Chapter VI Lela
VI
LELA
“What does she mean?” asked Andreas, sitting on my bed while I held the missive that the noblewoman had given me. Sitting at my vanity, I stared down at the note.
My bedchamber was more luxurious than and set apart from the other slaves’ quarters. Valerius liked to pretend that I was precious to him by keeping me in a cage of silk and finery.
“I don’t know,” I finally answered.
“Read it again,” he urged me.
It was written in Latin, and Andreas couldn’t read, not in any language.
Fortunately, Bunica had taught me and my sisters well.
When we asked why we had to suffer through learning the enemy’s tongue, she’d simply said, “You’ll need it one day.
” We didn’t argue further because we believed everything Bunica told us. At least, back then I did.
“It says, I believe we can learn much from the Greeks. I thought you might enjoy the wisdom of Thucydides. Then she leaves two quotes. One reads, Justice will not come to Athens until those who are not injured are as indignant as those who are injured. And the second reads, the secret to happiness is freedom and the secret to freedom is courage.”
“Why should we care about the Greeks in Athens?” Andreas asked.
“I don’t think she’s speaking of the Greeks.”
Andreas stood and paced beside my bed. He visited me every night before we both went to sleep. Valerius never minded him being in my bedchamber since Andreas preferred male lovers. Besides, Valerius had made it abundantly clear to his male slaves that they would die if they dared touch me.
“Have you met this noblewoman before?” he asked.
“No. I mean, I never actually meet any of the patricians I come in contact with.”
“I haven’t ever seen her at one of Valerius’s parties,” he noted.
“She hasn’t been here,” I agreed, knowing I’d committed all of those faces to memory. “But I did see her once at a taberna that sold fine silks and cloths.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“No. She stared at me, but everyone does that.”
I gestured to the bridle I’d worn today, still sitting on my vanity table. The others lined the wall of shelves across from my bed.
“Perhaps she simply wanted to send you some inspiring words. To be kind.”
“No,” I said, remembering the strange encounter in the street yesterday, “it was more than that. You should’ve seen her expression. She’d given it to me in secret. There was an earnestness in her eyes.”
“It makes no sense.”
“And these words aren’t kind, Andreas,” I went on. “They’re cruel. To point out that freedom is the guide to happiness? To say that to me.”
I scoffed and folded the parchment, dropping it among my bottles of ointments and lotions on the vanity.
“Unless,” added Andreas, crossing his arms, “her message is about finding the courage to be free.”
“And what of the indignant ones she speaks of?”
“You’re the injured one,” he stated, “as am I. And all those beat down under the yoke of Roman law.”
I stood. “She is not injured. She’s a patrician, a wealthy woman who lacks for nothing.” I pondered a moment. “I believe she’s saying she’s as indignant as the injured. As us. She speaks of justice.”
“And freedom and courage,” added Andreas.
We stared at one another, confused, for there was only one justice for me. But I’d surely be executed for it. I’d gain no freedom at all.
“But to what end? How can she change anything?”
She may be a dragon and a powerful woman in her own right, but this world was still ruled by men.
“Maybe,” I whispered, “she wants to ally with me for something.”
“Like what? Getting your freedom?” Andreas said it, but we’d both been thinking it.
Heavy footsteps drawing closer announced someone coming down my short hallway. Grigor appeared in the doorway, unsurprised to find Andreas here with me.
“Dominus wants you,” he said to me.
My heart plummeted. He hadn’t called for me in months, too busy with his new girl, Roza.
Andreas stepped toward the door, glancing at me sympathetically. “I’ll go to him tonight.”
“No,” snapped Grigor, turning his head to me. “He wants you. And he wants you now.”
Andreas crossed the chamber to stand in front of me. “You are the Queen of the Abyss. Remember that.”
He hadn’t reminded me of that tale in quite some time. The naiad who became Queen of the Abyss.
Andreas used to tell me the story, to remind me to go into the abyss in my mind, to help me endure my trials with Valerius. He hadn’t needed to remind me of it in a while. He must’ve caught the panic in my expression just now.
“Yes, I am she,” I tried to assure him. “Good night, Andreas.”
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze, pecking a kiss to my cheek, despite Grigor watching. Andreas was lovers with Mitko, Grigor’s brother, so Grigor ignored his trespasses and familiarity with me.
“Good night, darling,” he whispered then left the room, skirting past Grigor.
Seeking that cold place inside, I sat down at the stool facing my vanity. I’d already unpinned my hair for the night and was dressed in my white sleeping gown with green satin trim.
Grigor went to the shelf and lifted the golden bridle that kept me completely voiceless. I opened my mouth as he fitted it over my face, and put the tongue depressor in place, then he latched it at the back, turning the lock with his key.
I watched in the mirror as he stood behind me, his brow pinching. That slight show of distress wasn’t a good sign.
“Be obedient,” he told me. “It will be over faster.”
Panic rose again. Grigor never showed any emotion, nor did he ever offer advice. He remained completely detached where I was concerned, which was why this was both shocking and terrifying.
When he met my gaze in the mirror, he must have seen the question there.
“He’s been feasting.” In other words, drinking. “And something’s got his blood up.”
Then Grigor turned and marched out of my room, leaving me to prepare myself.
Queen of the Abyss. After my worst beating, when I’d last tried to run away from this hell, Andreas had told me the story while he treated my injuries with a cool salve and calm words.
There was once a naiad who was born in a shallow pond near the sea. The goddess Diana told her that this small pond would be her domain for all her life because she would be protected from the world.
At first, the naiad was content to swim in her little pool. However, she soon realized that she was too confined, too restricted for this one tiny space. She longed for more, to see the world beyond.
The goddess had put a spell on the shore for her protection so that every time the naiad tried to cross the rocks, she would experience pain to force her back into the pond where she belonged.
The first day, the pebbles were fiery hot and burned the tender soles of the naiad’s feet. She jumped back into the safety of her pond right away.
The second day, the pebbles turned into freezing ice needles. The naiad could hear the sea birds and the waves crashing so she walked a little farther. But then the freezing pain became too much so she turned back again.
The third day, the pebbles turned into shards of glass so that every step the naiad took, the glass stabbed and cut her tender feet. Even so, she made it farther than the last time. She could even smell the salt of the sea before she finally turned back.
It was the fourth day when she awoke to a promise on the wind that any pain she endured would be bearable. The salty air carried a song of the sirens that pierced the naiad’s heart so deeply that she knew she could endure anything to reach the sea.
So she did. Step after step, she endured the pain of all three—the ice needles, the fiery coals, and the shards of glass.
By the time she reached the sea, her feet were damaged beyond repair.
But it didn’t matter. She entered the water and swam with the sirens, no longer needing her feet, comforted by the serenity of the water and the deep oblivion.
And because she endured more pain than any small naiad should be able to, the goddess Diana anointed her the Queen of the Abyss, the maid of the deep fathoms of the ocean.
The tale was short, but it had hit home. I internalized it by imagining myself swimming the deep blues of the ocean whenever Valerius summoned me. I could endure anything if I tapped into the cold depths of the icy waters living inside me.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, abhorring the sight of the golden muzzle. Voiceless yet again. My pulse quickened, my hands trembling as I reached for the parchment from the noblewoman. My gaze landed on the words the secret to freedom is courage.
My chest rose and fell swiftly. I didn’t want to be the Queen of the Abyss. I wanted to be the Queen of Fury.
“The Mother Song” wove into my mind. The melody kept haunting me lately.
I was singing it two nights ago in the temple when I met Trajan, when I cut myself and bled yet again.
For what? For a release to this constant pain.
It would never be enough until I poured out every drop of blood from my body.
I stared into my own eyes, hardly recognizing the fiery blue, the furious creature staring back at me. Since I’d been here, I’d been compliant, submissive, obedient.
No more.
I could take it not one … moment … more.
I opened my vanity drawer and hid the noblewoman’s letter in the secret compartment at the back where I kept my herbs from Euphemia.
Lifting an oil lamp by the handle, I made my way along the passages toward Valerius’s bedchamber. The house was dark, most everyone asleep. The flickering fire from the lamp lit my way. I wished for it to go out. I wished for everything to burn out—my sight, this life, this entire world.
I hummed the melody of “The Mother Song,” hearing Bunica singing in my mind. I could see her wrinkled face by the crackling fire as she sang to me and my sisters.