over a promise of land…’ Half-heard discussions between the men over dinner, debates she had only partly understood or ignored. The Visigoths had entered Rome before, demanded a vast bribe in gold, then they had gone away, leaving political turmoil. But that was all settled now. Honorius was back in control in Ravenna…
‘No misunderstanding. Treachery. We fight for your emperor for many years, we hold back the Hun hordes from the east from your lands, even as they overrun ours, and he promises us land, grain, security. And gives us lies. Now we have come to take what is owing. Two years ago we entered Rome, but it seems you Romans do not learn from the past.’
He stood there, as solid as the stone pillar behind him, as alien as the wolf that walked by his side, and she could believe that he would take anything he wanted. And there were thousands like him pouring into her city while frightened, overcivilised men in togas or silk tried to talk away the danger. Two years ago it had seemed they had placated Alaric. They had been wrong.
‘Honorius is not here; he is in Ravenna.’ Behind impregnable walls, equipped for the longest siege, while here the food was already running out. The invaders would find gold and silver, but they would find precious little to eat.
‘We know. The time for talking is past. Come.’ He turned on his heel and began to walk down the alleyway. Julia stood watching his back. Broad shoulders carrying a chain-mail shirt as easily as though it was linen, bare arms, tanned to a golden colour so different from her own olive skin, long legs in cloth trousers tucked into leather boots like a legionary’s. The broad belt cinched around his waist was legionary kit too, but the tall figure was anything but reassuringly familiar. Everywhere about him was the living glow of gold and the sullen blood red of garnets. His sword hilt, the scabbard, the buckle on his belt, the gold bands that strapped his biceps and wrists, all gleamed.
He was bigger than any man she had ever been close to—as big as the emperor’s German guard—and he moved with the predatory grace of a gladiator in the arena.
Behind her the burning shop collapsed across the alley with a crash. There was nowhere to go but to follow him. ‘You will take me to the Basilica?’ She had to run to catch him up.
‘We may go there.’ Wulfric stopped at the end of the passageway and surveyed the cross-street. A man peered out from a doorway, saw him and slammed the door to. Julia heard the thud of a falling bar. A woman, a child in her arms, ran past, shied away with a shrill scream and hurried on. At both ends, where the street opened out onto wider thoroughfares, there was a chaos of carts and mules and people shouting and shoving.
‘What do you mean? We may go there?’ She put her hand on his forearm and shook it when he did not immediately reply. Wulfric looked down at her, one corner of his mouth lifting, and she saw that the green eyes had lost their chill. Julia lifted her hand off his arm with elaborate care and stepped back, her heart thudding in response to the heat in that look. ‘No. No…you wouldn’t…’
‘Wouldn’t…’ He searched for a word. ‘Wouldn’t ravish you? I do not approve of ravishing women, as you saw just now. You need not fear that. Now, come.’
Relief made her snap at him. ‘Come where? I want to go to the Basilica.’
‘But what you want is no longer important. Come with me. I told you we had come to take what is owing. And we need it to be portable. Grain, horses, gold, silver and slaves—we take all of those.’
‘But…you want me as a hostage?’ Incomprehension turned to cold fear. She had leapt from the skillet into the fire.
‘No.’ She had amused him again. It was perversely insulting. ‘We already have the best hostage after the emperor. We have his sister. We do not need any more; hostages are hard work. They need looking after.’
‘You have Galla Placidia?’ A gracious lady, one who lived closer to the people than her brother. She had stayed in Rome, not fled to the thick walls and high towers of Ravenna at the first hint of danger.
‘Yes. Now come.’
‘Where? Why?’
Wulfric turned on his heel and studied her with the air of a tutor confronted by a dense pupil. ‘With me. You are now mine. I need a household slave. You will do very nicely.’
‘A slave? Me? You are jesting.’ There was no hint of teasing in the calm regard. ‘A…’ He meant it. ‘No!’ Julia took to her heels. Ahead the turmoil of the street, once so terrifying, now seemed to offer sanctuary. The breath tearing in her throat, she yanked up her skirts and ran. Only a few more yards, a few more steps.
A blur passed her and then stopped in front in a scrabble of claws on stone. The wolf. Julia juddered to a halt. It wasn’t showing its teeth. ‘Good boy, there’s a nice wolf. Stay! Sit?’ It regarded her impassively then padded forwards. She spun on her heel. Wulfric hadn’t moved. If she could just make it to the door that stood ajar…
Something hard and wet and hot closed gently round her right wrist. She looked down. The animal had her arm between its jaws. It was not biting, just holding with a pressure that would not crack an egg, yet which had all the potential to rip her flesh from her bones.
Wulfric whistled loudly. There was a disturbance in the milling crowd and a horseman pushed his way through and into the side road, another horse on a leading rein behind him. No, not a man, a youth, she realised, sixteen at most. He had a leather jerkin over a linen shirt, no helm on his head, but a long dagger hung from his belt and he controlled the horses with ease.
He spoke to Wulfric in a tongue she did not know.
‘Speak Latin, else how will you ever have it perfect? This is Julia, she comes with us. Take her up behind you.’
The boy turned interested blue eyes on her. ‘The new slave? The one you said you would find to cook for us? That is good, I am tired of cooking, it is women’s work.’
‘I am not a slave, I am not going with you! I am a noblewoman!’
‘You do not appear to be in any position to argue.’ The infuriating man strolled towards her.
‘You mean you would let your wolf savage me if I try to escape?’ Julia enquired sarcastically. ‘I wouldn’t be much use as a slave then.’
‘True.’ He picked her up with startling suddenness and tossed her up behind the boy, whipping a leather thong out of his belt and lashing her hands to a ring in the youth’s broad belt. ‘Don’t forget she is there, Berig,’ he advised. ‘You do not want her landing on top of you when you dismount. Oh, no!’ He grabbed Julia who was trying to slide off the far side. ‘Berig is not very big yet, but he is heavy enough. I advise you to sit still.’
He swung up onto the other horse, a rangy, ugly grey. ‘Now, we go and find ourselves some more gold.’
With the wolf trotting at his heels, he forced his way out into the crowded street, the very sight of him sending terrified citizens diving into side alleys. The boy Berig followed. Julia slid, gasped and tightened her hands on to his belt in an effort not to fall off. Sooner or later they have to untie me. That wolf can’t be everywhere, sooner or later I can run…
‘Hwa namo thein? Er…What is your name? Are you a good cook?’ Berig tossed back over his shoulder as he steered his mount in his master’s wake.
‘Julia Livia. And, no, I am not,’ Julia snapped back. ‘I cannot cook. I
