Chapter Seventeen: Byford Augusta

Byford Augusta was a jewel of a town. It nestled between the forest to the North and great swaths of farmland, riddled with irrigation canals, to the South. The fields were green and gold with ripening grains, and the grey city stood on a river that wove through the fields like a blue hair-ribbon. The city walls were of limestone and stood tall, the parapets at least two stories above the traveller's heads as they reached the gates. There were men up there, clad in chain mail bearing the imperial sigil. They looked curiously down at the travellers as customs agents questioned them wearily.

The sight of the imperial soldiers patrolling the walls made Marcus’ heart settle comfortably where it belonged, neither in his mouth nor in the deepest pit of his stomach. They would be safe here, or, at least, safer. If anyone dared to try anything, it was only steps to the law provided by the imperial garrison. This was a good place to rest, before continuing on to Arcius and Marcus' duty to his dead brother.

Petro, too, looked relieved. Byford Augusta looked like his type of town. It was the type of town he had grown up in – prosperous and solid enough to be full of little inns and taverns where a man could find a drink and relax, with maybe hope of finding a pretty girl afterwards. And baths, a town this size in an area that had been under imperial control for generations would have at least one bath house, and it would be nice to be clean again. The baby was the only one who had been regularly bathed, and even she was starting to smell musty with sweat. In Petro’s opinion, Marcus in particular was starting to smell pretty ripe.

Mulberry was intrigued by the town. The way Marcus and Petro talked about it, it was fairly small – nothing compared to the imperial capital – but still bigger than the town she had grown up in, or any of the market towns she had visited. She found she liked the tall, grey walls much better than she did a palisade of wood. The walls were beautiful where the palisades of her childhood had only been functional. The imperial soldiers at the gates were well-dressed and well-fed, looking better than most of the men in Marcus and Petro’s legion. She was curious, too, to see what the town might look like within the walls.

She was not, however, to have her curiosity satisfied as quickly as she hoped. The great wooden gates swung open to reveal not a bustling town, but a grassy verge bordered by another, inner wall, the exact twin of the outer wall. To Marcus’ considerable delight, there was a stable between the inner and outer walls of the town. Like many imperial towns, horses and horse-drawn vehicles were not allowed within the city proper, and this stable was manned by members of the imperial garrison. Thus, after a few documents out of Marcus’ pouch and one out of Petro’s proved that they were travelling on official business, the horses could be boarded for free. Once the horses had been passed off to a pair of young guards, the three adults and one baby sat on the grass and argued. That is, Marcus and Petro argued. Mulberry and Aurelia just listened.

They sat on a patch of grass between the two rows of walls, close enough to the stables that the occasional whiff of horse was carried on the breeze. Marcus wanted to stay with the garrison, even though that meant they’d most likely end up pitching their tent here between the walls. Petro, on the other hand, definitely wanted to stay at an inn.

“An inn with soft beds, and clean sheets, and acres of fluffy pillows,” he said in nostalgic tones, thinking of inns he had stayed in, now and then, on his travels.

“But that requires going in to town. We’re safer with the garrison here between the walls, and besides, I don’t want to spend the money,” Marcus replied.

“Cheapskate,” Petro retorted with a roll of his eyes, “So you don’t want to go into town at all?”

“Not if I can help it,” Marcus replied stubbornly.

Mulberry, bouncing Aurelia on her lap, sighed a little. She really had wanted to see the imperial town. If the walls themselves had been any indication, this town would be different from anything she had ever seen.

Petro looked over at Mulberry and smiled. I have an ally, he thought.

“Oh, come on, Marcus! Live a little. Come on, Mulberry, wouldn’t you like it if mean, old Marcus would let us go in? We can eat hot food that someone else cooked, and sleep where we won’t be rained on, and I bet there are baths here! Imagine bathing in a pool of water that smells like flowers while someone washes your clothes, and a few hours later you and the clothes are both all warm and dry and nice-smelling? Come on, Mulberry, tell Marcus you want to do that.”

Marcus looked over at Mulberry, who looked down at the top of Aurelia’s head.

“I – well, I sort of want to,” she admitted, “But I can’t go to a proper inn. Not – not dressed like this.”

She indicated her well-worn and rather dirty clothing. She still had only her shift, and Marcus' old tunic to cover it.

Both Marcus and Petro blushed a little. Marcus drew out his little pouch, and fished around a little. Slowly, he set out a pile of coins on the grass in front of him. Mulberry’s eyes grew wide. He set out ten copper coins, and then, after a moment of thought, added two of silver.

“Find yourself a dress or two. Something strong, but not heavy. You have to carry them yourself, you know, and they have to be okay for you to work in. Then go to the baths, get clean, and get us all something to eat.”

Mulberry blinked, then, in complete delight, squealed, “Really? I can?” If Marcus had been her husband, instead of her master, she would have kissed him for that. As it was, she grinned sheepishly at him.

“Yeah,” Marcus smiled at her enthusiasm, “And I’ll even watch Aurelia while you go.”

Petro frowned, saying, “Uh, Marcus?”

“Fine, Petro, you go find us somewhere to stay, if you’re so set on that!” Marcus retorted.

“Well, sure,” Petro agreed in surprise, “But that’s not really what I meant. I meant, geez, Marcus, look at her.”

Marcus looked over at Mulberry. To his eyes, she just looked like herself, if a little embarrassed. He took in the dark hair, short and tousled, a single burr caught by her left ear. He took in the tunic that didn't quite reach the girl's knees, the muddy shift beneath it, and the strong arms striped with scratches from picking blackberries in the brambles as they travelled. And he took in the joyful blush that seemed to suffuse Mulberry's features.

“Er, she’s herself. So?”

Petro shook his head, “You’re so slow sometimes, Marcus. What I mean is, isn’t it obvious what she is? That she belongs to someone? And they aren’t going to think she has his permission to be out shopping or dallying at the baths! Not when she’s muddy and has burrs in her hair!”

Mulberry turned bright red and ran her hands through her hair, trying to find and remove the burrs. She did not like them talking about her as if she could not hear them, and she did not like to be reminded of what she was, now. After all, she was not here because she considered Marcus or Petro a friend, or because she had volunteered to watch over baby Aurelia.

“She’ll look fine once she bathes, well, if she gets her hair evened out, and wears something clean,” Marcus said, looking Mulberry over. “She’s well-fed; she’ll look like a slave from a prosperous household.”

“Yeah, but in the meantime . . .”

Marcus sighed. In the meantime, she looked like she was about to be sent to the mines, “Well, she can't bathe until she gets to the baths, now can she? So what do you suggest?”

“Give her written permission,” Petro said, in a voice that implied that it was obvious, “Write a note saying what she’s allowed to do, and then get the stable master here to seal it.”

“That’s a great idea!” Marcus agreed, choosing to ignore the implications of Petro's snarky tone.

He stood up and strode back to the stables. Mulberry followed anxiously on his heels, still cradling Aurelia in her arms, while Petro followed, languidly, a few steps behind.

It took some explaining before a pen and some ink and a single piece of reused, but well-scraped parchment were placed before Marcus. He wrote thoughtfully, saying,

“This hereby gives permission to the slave woman MULBERRY”

“Put in a physical description, a description!” Petro said anxiously.

Marcus nodded and continued, “Who has dark hair and dark eyes, permission to avail herself of the amenities of the baths, and to purchase . . . to purchase . . .”

He left off, sucking on the end of the pen, then smiled, saying as he wrote,

“Whatever she pleases.”

Mulberry grinned.

The paper was handed back to the stable master, who duly stamped it with the seal of the garrison, and handed it to Marcus, who pushed it into Mulberry’s hands.

“Don’t forget, we need lunch and supper, too, not just dresses. And pick up some clothes for the baby. She needs better diapers than ripped up blankets.”

“Food with meat in it!” Petro put in anxiously.

With a smile, Mulberry was on her way.