Bruce Macbain - The Bull Slayer

Weeping, she began to gather her things.

Another sound-the snorting of a horse-and then there he was! She ran to him, threw herself against him. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry, couldn’t get away sooner. Had to tour the farm, listen to a lot of boring talk.” He unwound her arms from around his neck. “Anyway, I’m here now. Famished actually, let’s eat.”

“No, make love to me.”

“On an empty stomach? I couldn’t really. Here, I’ve brought some venison. Killed it myself, much to everyone’s surprise.”

They ate. And they made love, rolling and laughing in the crackling leaves. And again he made her feel things that she had never felt with her husband. And she thought she had never been so happy in all her life. Afterwards they lay on their backs under a blanket and Agathon said, “Are you a good climber? I’ll take you up to the top of that hill.

“I’m a country girl,” she laughed, and jumped up, and started to run. And when they reached the top, panting, their cheeks flushed red, they looked back and they could see the white walls and red roofs of the city, and, tiny as toys, the palace and the temples and beyond them the grey sea.

“What a sight,” she said. “I wish I had my charcoal and parchment.”

“There are caves all over here,” Agathon said. “One just up there. When I was a kid I used to go exploring.”

“Let’s find one and make love in it,” she said, “like Dido and Aeneas.”

“Friends of yours?”

“You ignorant boy,” she laughed.

But her laughter was cut short by a man’s shout. An optio and two soldiers were scrambling up the rocky path behind them. They had spent weeks combing these hills, searching for the cave of Mithras. They had spotted the red rag tied to the tree branch and thought it might lead to something.

“They’ve seen us!” Calpurnia cried.

“Quick!” He pulled her after him around a thorn bush that tore at her clothing and into the dark mouth of a cave, stooping under its overhanging eave.

“Stop there, you!” the officer called.

“Agathon, we’re trapped!”

“Follow me.” He plunged deeper into the cave, dragging her behind him.

“I can’t see anything!”

“Follow the wall.”

The floor of the cave sloped downward. Calpurnia slid on loose stones, fell to her knees, tearing them, struggled up again, reached out and felt for the cold stone, slid again. The soldiers had lit a torch. Its light and their echoing shouts pursued them.

“Agathon, where does it lead?”

“I don’t know!”

The passage bent to the left, like the leg of a dog, then turned again, and grew lower and narrower until Calpurnia could stretch out her arms and touch both sides. And then suddenly it ended in a wall made of dressed stone blocks. She and Agathon shrank against it, their chests heaving. In another moment the soldiers caught up with them. The officer held out his sputtering pine branch and peered at them. “Lady Calpurnia?” he said.

Authority was her only weapon. “What d’you mean by chasing us? I’ll see that you’re disciplined for this. My friend is an artist, we came out to sketch. Now leave us in peace.”

“But-” He took a step back.

“Look here, would you.” One of the soldiers was on his knees, running his hands over the stone wall. There’s a ring set into it.” He pulled on it. “It’s moving, lend a hand.” The other knelt beside him and they pulled together. With a screech of stone on stone a part of the wall swung out. The optio shouldered them aside and, holding his torch in front of him, crept through the opening. There was a long moment of silence and then a whoop.

“Boys,” he shouted, “we’ve found it!”

The cave of Mithras.

The soldiers clapped each other on the back. They were sure to be rewarded for this! They had stumbled on its back door, in fact, which opened into a small chamber behind the bas relief of the bull-slaying. There they found a lamp on a stand, positioned so that its light would shine through holes drilled through the god’s eyes. The effect on worshippers must have been spectacular when, at some climactic moment in the ritual, one of the priests, concealed behind the relief, lit the lamp and the sun god’s eyes blazed in the darkened cave.

A quick search of the cave proper revealed nothing of interest, at least to these hard-bitten soldiers. No gold, no jewels. When they made their way through to the cave’s front entrance they found it so well camouflaged with bushes that you could have stood right next to it and not known it was there. They found they were only some two hundred paces away from the rear entrance, just around the curve of the hill and a little higher up.

The officer told his men to stay there and guard the place. “And I will take these two back to the city.” He led Calpurnia and her companion out into the open.

Calpurnia forced a smile. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Marcus Catulinus, ma’am. Optio in the third cohort.”

“Well, Marcus, just tell them you found the cave. You needn’t say anything about my friend and me. You’ll have my gratitude, you understand?”

“Ma’am, I can’t-”

At that moment, Agathon let out a curse and started to run, bounding down the hillside and dashing into the trees. Before anyone could make a move to stop him he was on his horse and galloping away.

Calpurnia sank to the ground with her face in her hands.

“Come now, lady,” the officer pulled her to her feet. “We’d best be off. I’ll ride your horse and you’ll sit behind me. I want no tricks.”

“Take your hands off me!” she screamed. “You’ll regret this!”

He looked at her not without a touch of pity. “That’s as may be.”

***

Two days later

Pliny stalked up and down the room, their bedroom, clenching and unclenching his hands, fighting to control himself. Calpurnia, small and miserable, huddled in a chair and followed him with her eyes. A winter storm had arrived the night before; Pliny had ridden through it without stopping. Outside, the morning was almost as dark as night and a high wind hurled sleet against the shutters. It was freezing in the room.

“Who is he? Who is this man you betrayed me with?” His voice was thick. He felt he could hardly breathe.

“I haven’t betrayed you, Gaius. Don’t be silly. We went sketching, he’s an artist, nothing happened. We thought the soldiers were brigands, we ran…” Her eyes pleading.

“Don’t lie to me! Tell me his name. You made love with him in his house. You were seen there by his hetaera . Did you know that? Suetonius knows, Sophronia knows, maybe the whole city knows. How could you do this to me? To us? You think you’re the wife of some shopkeeper that you can act like this? I am the governor!” He stood over her, his fists white-knuckled. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes! Yes! My mind, my heart, my honor!” She was sobbing now. “Gaius, I love you but I couldn’t help it. I was so lonely. You were too busy for me and then you were gone and I was left alone with these people who hate me. I wanted be the governor’s wife, to make you proud of me, but I couldn’t. Gaius, you look at me but you don’t see me. I’m not the woman you think I am. I wish I were, but I’m not. That woman doesn’t exist. And so I found a friend. He made me laugh, he flattered me. And I could talk to him just because he was nobody, not one of you. And then the rest-I never meant for it to happen. I beg you to believe me. I’m so sorry.”

That woman doesn’t exist. He was stunned. She had come to him as a child of barely fourteen-fresh, innocent, unformed. And he, like a father as much as a husband, had molded her into the woman he wanted. Had she always secretly resented that? But she had grown more beautiful and accomplished than he could have hoped for-so much that sometimes it almost frightened him. He knew he didn’t cut a dashing figure, had never had great success with women, but he had trusted her, never been jealous of the admiring looks she got from other men.