Ashes Under Uricon
Chapter 15. Debts (367)
By Mihangel
Mirabar enim ceteros mortales vivere, quia ille, quem quasi non moriturum dilexeram, mortuus est; et me magis, quia ille alter eram, vivere illo mortuo mirabar. Bene quidam dixit de amico suo: dimidium animae suae. Nam ego sensi animam meam et animam illius unam fuisse animam in duobus corporibus, et ideo mihi horrori erat vita, quia nolebam dimidius vivere.
I was amazed that others, though mortal, were alive, because the man whom I had loved as if he were immortal had died. I was yet more amazed that I, who was his other self, could live while he was dead. Well did someone describe his friend as half of his soul, for I felt that my soul and his soul were one soul in two bodies. In this way life became repugnant to me, because I did not wish to live when halved.
St Augustine, Confession
Now that we had seen him towards the otherworld, if such a place existed, there was time to think. My thoughts hurt. Hitherto I had been merely numb. Now I felt all the pain of despair, of single-minded and selfish despair at my own loss. I thought of nothing but my own emptiness, of nobody but myself. I should have been with Tad and Bran, supporting them. They wanted to be with me, supporting me, but I shook them off. My heart was darkened, and whatever I set eyes on was death. Viroconium seemed a prison, the family home a strange unhappiness. Whatever I had shared with Lucius throughout that carefree summer of three years ago became, without him, a torment. My eyes sought him everywhere, but did not find him. I hated every place that did not have him, for it could not now tell me 'he'll be here soon,' as it had done when he was alive. I gave up sleeping in our bedroom, I gave up eating at the family table. I spent much of the time in tears. To myself I became a great riddle. To Tad and Bran, for all their sympathy, I became a frustration.
Oh, Lucius!
Tad found me, after two days of this morose and boorish behaviour, sitting head in hands in the evening sun in the courtyard of our house. It was after dinner, which I had skipped. He went away and came back with Bran, and in Bran's arms was Maglocunus, fast asleep, borrowed from the nurse. Bran sat beside me, smiling down at the baby.
"We're his parents now, Docco.
Incipe, parve puer: cui non risere parentes
Nec deus hunc mensa, dea nec dignata cubili est.
Come on, little boy. If your parents don't have a smile for you, then neither will a god think you worth inviting to dinner, nor a goddess to bed."
He looked across at me.
"There is a future, Docco. You and Lucius swore love until you died, didn't you? And so it was, until one of you did die. You can love his soul beyond the grave, and you will. But you can see no love on this side of it. That's the trouble, isn't it? Call me wise after the event, but I'm glad after all that Lucius did marry. We would have lost him anyway. But he has left us this." He looked down again at the bundle in his arms. "And Maglocunus is Lucius reborn, almost. We owe him love. We owe him a future. He is the future."
I tried to envisage a future. I tried hard, but I failed.
"Talking of owing, Docco," said Tad, very serious, almost stern, "there are other debts. Not just to Maglocunus. I can't tell you how much we owe to Bran. He's been a second son to me, a pillar of strength all the time you've been away. He's helped on the farm, he's helped with the mines, he's helped with my . . . loss of you. He's kept my hopes alive. On top of that, he's been a buttress to Lucius in all his tribulations, and the gods know they were far worse than mine. Since he fell ill he's nursed him day and night, as if he'd been his own brother. And ever since Maglocunus was born he's been his effective father. I don't know where any of us would have been without Bran."
Oh, Tad! Oh, Bran!
It had the desired effect. It hauled me up from the pits into the real world. It made me recognise, as I should have done long before, a new level of respect and friendship between the two of them -- Bran had indeed, in a sense, stepped into my shoes. It made me recognise that, for all the contribution I was making to the household, I might as well be still in Ireland. My churlishness was exposed in all its mean egotism, my own miseries were submerged. I was ashamed, and had to make amends.
"Oh Bran." My eyes were full of tears. "I'm sorry. I've been too full of my own grief. Thank you, Bran, for being a son to Tad. A brother to Lucius. A father to Maglocunus. A damn good friend to me. You're everything to all of us. You're part of the family . . ."
Amemory crept back from the distant past.
"Bran, what are you?"
He smiled through his own tears.
"Your slave, master."
Oh, Bran!
He too recalled it, from all those years ago when I was a naïve and unthinking child, as unthinking as I was now. But . . .
Slave! Master!
That jolted me, brutally and all too tardily, into remembering that I owed Bran more than thanks. I took a deep breath.
"Bran . . . Until a few days ago I was a slave too. I haven't told you how I got away. My master was talking to me, and I told him that I had an Irish slave back here. And he offered to let me go, provided I promised to free you when I got home. Or rather to offer you your freedom. And I him gave my promise . . . Bran . . . Oh, Tad, would you take Maglocunus, please?"
He was transferred, carefully, and I knelt in front of Bran and took his hands in mine. Reassurance flowed from their grip, their warmth, their strength.
"Bran . . . Years ago you said you wouldn't accept freedom as a reward for good service. Will you accept it now? I know I made that promise for selfish reasons, to win my own freedom. But . . ."
Tad interrupted.
"Docco, there's more to it than that. Let me tell you this, because I doubt Bran will tell you of his own accord. Not only do you owe Bran his freedom, you owe him your freedom."
"Uh?"
"Go on, Bran, spell it out."
"Well . . ." Bran hesitated. "Well, all right. Let's start with when you were captured at the farm . . . The man who grabbed you yelled that if we tried to follow, he'd cut your throat. Lucius didn't understand Irish, of course, and I had to use force to stop him following. We had to let you go. But the man who grabbed you was very distinctive -- that mane of auburn hair, remember? That stuck in my mind, all too well.
"Then a few weeks ago the Irish attacked Viroconium, as you know. In the end they gave it up as a bad job and moved off. But one group hung back to cover their retreat, and its leader was that same man. He stood out a mile. Well, it seemed a golden opportunity. I told your Tad what I was going to do. I didn't want him or anyone else to think I was betraying the town. I borrowed his horse. He authorised the gate wardens to let me through, and I galloped out after the Irish and caught up with them. I wasn't armed. I just held up my hands shouting siochain, which means 'peace'. Oh, of course you know that now.
"Well, a group of them surrounded me, a savage-looking lot, and I asked them to take me to their leader, the man with the auburn mane. They were suspicious and put arrows to their strings, and made me dismount. But they took me to him, with a sword pricking me in the ribs. As we went I asked them his name, and they told me it was Maqqos-colini.
"And so we met, and we talked. 'What is an Irishman doing,' he asked, 'coming out of the town in Roman dress and on a good horse? Are you a slave?'
"'Yes, I am.'
"'But your speech is strange. Can you prove you are Irish, not a Roman setting a trap?'
"'If my speech is strange,' I said, 'it's because I learnt it here, from my father and grandfather. I have never been in Ireland. But my name is Bran son of Tigernac son of Broc son of Maile son of Lochru son of Erc son of Trenu, of the Uí Garrchon.'
The pedigree rolled proudly off Bran's tongue.
"He was surprised. 'We too are of the Uí Garrchon,' he said, and he looked a question at an oldish man beside him, who must have been a keeper of the tribal memory.
"'It is true.' this man said. 'Our memory tells of Lochru son of Erc son of Trenu, who was captured by the Uí Failgi and sold no doubt as a slave. Maqqos-colini, this young man is your distant kinsman.'
"And Maqqos-colini took me by the shoulders and said, 'Then welcome, kinsman. Are you running away to rejoin us, after so long a time?'
"'No,' I said, 'Viroconium is where I belong, after so long a time. But I do have a question to ask you. Are you the man who three years ago captured a boy at a farm near here?'
"'Possibly,' he said, warily. 'I have captured many. How old is he? How does he look? What is his name?'
"'He was then just sixteen. Nineteen now. With dark curly hair. Named Docco.'
"I saw recognition in his eyes. 'I recall him,' he said.
"'And is he still in your keeping? And in good health?'
"'As far as I know. But I have never spoken with him. I do not concern myself with my slaves. I leave that to my foremen. Why do you ask?'
"'Because he is my master, and my very good friend.'
"'Your master? Your very good friend? I do not mistreat my slaves as Romans do theirs, but none of them would call me their friend. How can you be friends with your master?'
"'Because he is not a Roman. He is a Briton, and nobody is more kind and honourable than he. My lord, my kinsman, I have a favour to ask. That you release him. Will you take a ransom for him?'
"He looked at me long and hard. 'If it is adequate,' he said.
"Well, I gave him, um, something valuable, and he nodded slowly.
"'I will release him,' he said, 'and send him back to you.'
"'Thank you,' I said. 'But please do not tell him that I have spoken to you. And I have another favour to ask.' I knew I was chancing my luck. 'That you leave his farm intact for him to return to.'
"'Where does it lie?"
"I pointed in the direction, and described how it lay.
"'I remember it,' he said. 'Very well, I will spare it. Expect him within two weeks. Would that I had friends like his. Go with the gods, my kinsman.'
"He told his guards to see me safe back towards the town, and that was that. I was sure he would honour his promise. It was just a matter of waiting for you, and hoping you'd be here before Lucius died."
Oh, Bran!
He had risked, for my freedom, his very life.
Luckily he had an honourable man to deal with. That thought jogged my mind again. Anguish for Lucius and for myself had overlaid the memory of what had happened during my return home. I went to my room to rummage in my meagre pack of belongings and came back with Maqqos-colini's package, which I handed to Bran. Maqqos-colini was indeed an honourable man. Inside was the great crossbow brooch, the gift from Lucius inscribed AMICITIA, friendship. Bran wept to have it back.
He had sacrificed, for my freedom, the most valuable thing he had ever possessed, except for his indomitable soul. Had he not disproved his own remark of all those years ago, that a slave cannot give freely?
Oh, Bran!
I took his hands back in mine.
"Bran . . ." It was hard to speak for tears. "Bran, will you accept your freedom now?"
"Yes, Docco." His voice was also breaking. "Yes, I will."
We hugged. My heart was full to bursting.
"Tomorrow, then," I managed to say. It was merely a matter of registering his manumission with a clerk in the Town Hall. "And at last we'll be equals, in every way."
Equals!
It suddenly hit me. No longer were we parallel lines, incapable of meeting. I looked at Bran with new eyes, and he saw it. The look that came back from his own eyes was an old, old look.
Tad slipped discreetly away, the baby still asleep in his arms.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
