Alea Iacta VIII: Under Mud, Over Sea Chp. 3: Perchance to Dream
Thanks for all the kind comments. Shast thinks, in response to Shawn:
Oooh, I could totally take that servile Euro, or blocky Scree! Just let me at them; my creative talents far outshine their lowly fighting abilities!"
Orichalcum thinks: Shast-a-Chu! And yes, the ideas I came up with when thinking about how a powerful sorceress with very little ethics raises a child...well, you'll see some of them in future updates.
All is finally quiet in the Villa Luculli, and the residents settle down to dream:
Meloch: You fall sound asleep, and dream:
You kneel before the entrance to a small stone building, one you have never seen before, and then slowly pace into the darkness inside, holding a torch. Inside, there are rows upon rows of stone and pottery urns, with painted scenes on them and inscriptions below them. You proceed to the left. Near the entrance you stop at one urn as the torchlight falls on the inscription: Cornelia Crispa, Devoted and Learned Daughter. She lived eighteen virtuous years. From the entrance of the tomb, you hear the voice of Cornelius Nepos, Cornelia’s Gaulish cousin, calling. “Come, slave. We have indulged you long enough.” You hurry outside, and Nepos is standing there with a black chain and thick iron slave collar. “Now that I am your master, pygmy, you’ll learn some discipline.” He moves forward with the collar as you wake up, shivering.
Wena: You fall sound asleep, and dream: You hear the sound of thundering hoofbeats, and see the Iceni war chariots whirling past you. A woman in one of the chariots reaches down and sweeps you into her chariot and arms without stopping; she is intricately tattooed, with long, braided red hair, and her eyes glow a rich brown. “Morwen, my child, I can give you only the protection that I am able. Remember that our enemy shares the same fears that you do. He wishes to bring those fears to all peoples everywhere, and take revenge for his own suffering on the entire world. Use your knowledge of our history and our ways against him. Do not fear to risk all, for this is the moment when truth must triumph.” You wake, feeling oddly calm and at peace with the world.
Marcus: You fall sound asleep, and dream: Your father is sitting in his small workroom in Alexandria. He looks tired, and much older than when you last saw him. Your sister, in torn and bloody robes, comes into the room.
“I’m sorry, father. Mother’s gone. There was nothing I could do.” she says quietly, weeping and coughing.
“I know. You worked yourself to the bone just trying to save your son Petros.”
“If only we had more help, and more money. If only my brother had stayed here rather than abandoning us...”
“It’s best he’s not here, child. If he was, he’d just die of the plague along with the rest of us.” Your father coughs painfully, and your sister holds out a wooden cup to catch the blood that comes up. “But I wish he had used his mind to help us and others live rather than merely to kill the barbarians.” His tone is regretful, and despairing. You wake up, trying to persuade yourself the dream was just the product of too much wine at dinner.
Heilyn: You fall sound asleep, and dream: You are riding proudly into Eburacum, your horse and armor covered with gold and decorations from the hand of the Emperor and seven other foreign kings. Your armor and weapons glisten in the sunlight, and two mules follow you, laden with golden aurei and gems. Yet Eburacum is not what is was. There is much evidence of recent burning, and the walls are missing in several places. The few people you see are dressed in rags, and they run from you or huddle by small fires in the cold. You quicken your horse’s pace and come to your old forge, where your mother lives. It is burnt, and the anvil is missing. Searching through the wreckage, you find one crippled former apprentice. “What happened?” you ask desperately. “Where is my mother?”
“The Ouenikones and the Picts swept south, intent on revenge, and the Romans were too few to stop them. The Druids came here first of all, saying that they would slay the smith who defied them and stole their eagle god. They bound your mother to a tree and cut her heart out of her body while she watched; she died cursing your name and that of the gods who were unable to protect us.”
You wake up, shivering, trying to persuade yourself the dream was just the product of too much wine at dinner.
Metellus: You dream of a mountain meadow, scattered with sheep. Meloch appears before you, grinning, dressed in a white loincloth, with a golden bow and arrow. “Young master, it is time for you to choose.”
“Choose what?” you ask in confusion.
“Who is the most beautiful, of course!” Meloch hands you a brightly shining golden apple, and gestures to a grove of trees nearby. Cornelia, Nepa, and Lupina Silvanilla walk out from the grove, each dressed in diaphanous gowns and glittering jewelry.
“Choose me,” the young Lupina Silvanilla speaks. “I am the niece of the Emperor, and I need someone to protect me.”
“Choose me,” Nepa says. “I am quiet and pious, and I am well versed in all the proper feminine skills.”
“Choose me, “ Cornelia says. “I will help you when you are afraid, and stand by your side bravely fighting and defending you.”
“CHOOSE!” Meloch bellows.
“Choose!” your father says, appearing suddenly.
“Choose!” Llyr, Marcus, and Heilyn say, gathering around you and prodding you with their spears.
The chorus grows deafening. “Choose, Metellus! Make a decision!”
You take a deep breath, and before you can say a word, you wake up as the dawn light hits your pillow.
Cornelia: You fall asleep finally, after your exciting night, and dream:
You wake up, and Meloch looks strangely at you. “Domina Cornelia, are you feeling all right?” You furrow your brow in puzzlement, before looking down at your hands. They are faintly green, and you can see small scales beginning to grow on them. You run, terrified, to your mother.
“Ah, yes,” she says in a dispassionate tone, “ this happened to my great-aunt Licinia. Well, with luck, you’ll eventually learn enough magic to be able to conceal it most of the time.”
“What do you mean, most of the time? And how bad will it get?”
“Well, Licinia spent most of her days in the sun curled up trying to get warm, and she said the tail was a nuisance, but don’t worry, she still kept her mind till the end.”
“What about the most of the time?”
“Well, dear, no illusion magic works very well when you’re asleep, now does it?”
You run, terrified, out into the courtyard, away from your apparently unmoved and uncomforting mother. In the atrium, Metellus sees you, swears by Hercules, and faints. Lucretius, running out to see the commotion, pulls his small silver owl out of his armor and gestures threateningly at you with it. “It’s a evil spirit!” he shouts, “We must drive it forth and kill it!” Marcus strolls out into the courtyard and looks directly at you. “I always told you all she was a witch and would come to a bad end. Now she’s an evil spirit, too.” He draws his sword, and your friends advance on you, determined looks on their faces.
You truly wake up, shivering, and stare frantically at your hands, desperately convincing yourself that there are no signs of scales on them.
Llyr: You fall soundly asleep, and dream:
You are in the midst of a raging battle, with strange creatures all about you. You spear a crocodile and then leap nimbly up to stab a Druid through the throat with your short sword. To your left, you see Heilyn, fighting a white-robed philosopher, and he shouts, “He has the Cap of Lugh, Llyr! Come around him from the back and we’ll surely get it! I need your help, now!” Ahead and to the right, you see Metellus, surrounded entirely by Druids and other warriors; he is fighting bravely, but is sorely wounded, and glances desperately towards you. You hear the voice of Talat in your head, whimpering, “Llyr, the bad men are here. They’re hurting me. Stop the bad men, Llyr.” You stop, frozen in your tracks, unsure which way to turn. As you stand there, uncertain for just a moment, you see Metellus fall, and the voice of Talat grows quiet in your head. You glance over to Heilyn, to see that the philosopher has vanished again. You wake up, sweating, glad that it is finally morning.
Lucretius: You fall soundly asleep, and dream:
You are in the midst of an enormous battle, with strange creatures all about you – flying hags throwing spells down on you in the air, Druids fighting with enormous shadowy wolves, and even crocodiles, attacking from the right. To your left, you see Cimbrus, surrounded by enemies, with only two Praetorians left around him, and those badly wounded. You start to urge Sapientia forward to assist the Emperor’s son, when you see Cornelia to your right, about to be swallowed whole by a crocodile. Both call out to you for help, and as you panic momentarily, unsure where to turn, you watch both die before your eyes. As Cornelia dies, her body turns into that of the little girl you chopped in half outside the Temple of the Vestals, and her eyes stare accusingly at you.
You wake up, shivering, trying to persuade yourself the dream was just the product of too much wine at dinner.
