The Memory of Snow Read online

‘Thank you, Pater,’ murmured Marcus. ‘I appreciate all you have done for me. If there is anything I can do…’

  The Pater raised his hand, silencing Marcus.

  ‘Thank you, Corax. I shall bear that in mind for the future. For now, just live by the ethos of Mithras and fulfill your vow as one of his worshippers.’

  ‘Your will and Mithras’ will shall be done,’ said Marcus. ‘I now take my leave of you, Pater, and thank you once more from the bottom of my heart.’

  Marcus backed out of the room, and was escorted back into the feast by the Heliodromus who had taken him to see the Pater.

  ‘Janus. My friend is Janus Cosconianus,’ he said to the sun-runner. The man simply nodded at him, and disappeared into the throng

  2010

  Liv was sure she had felt someone touch her shoulder. She shivered and looked around her. Ryan was way up on the hillside, jiggling from foot to foot. He had been moaning that his feet were sore this morning, barely even before they left home. Liv opened her mouth to call him, but again had the feeling that she mustn’t raise her voice here. The Sacred Well had to remain a place of calmness and peace. She looked up at the fort and scanned the horizon for the man she had seen on the top. He had disappeared as well.

  She realised she was beginning to sink into the mud and stepped away from the Well, onto firmer grass.

  ‘You had enough, then?’ called Ryan from his position on the hillside. He obviously didn’t feel the need to remain quiet in this place.

  ‘Did anybody pass you?’ asked Liv, knowing the answer already. ‘Just before. When I was down here?’

  ‘Nope. Nobody here except us,’ replied Ryan. He turned and half-walked, half-skidded down the dry hillside to join her. The summer grass up on the hill was quite a contrast to the thick mud which seeped out of Coventina’s Well. ‘Haven’t seen anyone around here at all. Why? Do you think some other mad people are going to be wandering around an old puddle and a pile of old stones? I mean, come on. The Roman’s have had, what, two thousand years to re-build their stuff? You’d think they would have done something about it by now.’

  ‘You’re so funny,’ said Liv. She was sharper than she meant to be with him. She felt a little unsettled and couldn’t resist having another look around her. She saw someone pass by the entrance to the temple and pointed. ‘Look. There’s someone else ‘mad enough’ to be here. Do you want to go and tell her you think she’s mad?’

  ‘Well, maybe she isn’t mad,’ said Ryan, watching a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and a backpack enter the temple from the opposite hillside. ‘She’s all togged up for it, anyway. She probably meant to come here. She’s probably doing that Hadrian’s Walk thing. I just meant that we were a bit mad. Coming to see a puddle. Well, OK, it’s a special puddle. It’s Coventina’s Puddle. But...’

  ‘Keep digging yourself in deeper,’ growled Liv. She marched off towards the Mithraic temple, ignoring Ryan’s attempts at appeasement.

  Once back in the valley to the south-west of Carrawburgh, Liv began to calm down a little. She stood and looked at the Mithraic temple properly, whilst she waited for Ryan to catch her up. He’d slipped and stumbled into a hole, presumably dug by a rabbit, and was moaning about that now, instead of the other stuff.

  A paved walkway led through a gap in the walls, and ended at three altars. A raised grassy area flanked the path on each side, dotted with short, stone columns. The backpacker lady was sitting on one of the raised areas, noisily unwrapping greaseproof paper from her sandwiches. She looked up at Liv and started.

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry. I just thought I’d have my lunch here, where it’s nice and quiet. I’ll get out of your way, so you can see the place without any twenty-first century people spoiling it for you... I spotted you in here earlier. I thought you’d finished.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t me,’ said Liv, shaking her head. ‘But please. It’s fine. You stay where you are. I’m waiting for him anyway,’ said Liv, jerking her had behind her. Ryan was now bending over, fastening his shoelace. He had discarded his backpack and it was balanced on the edge of the hill. Liv just knew that the backpack would end up down the gully, and probably roll into Meggie’s Dene Burn.

  ‘And there it goes,’ she muttered as Ryan looked in the direction of the tumbling backpack and swore loudly. He stumbled off down the bank of the stream and disappeared from view. Liv sighed. She made her way to the other side of the temple, following the wire fence that surrounded the monument. The entrance to the temple was through a kissing-gate, and she pushed it open, wincing as a loud creak echoed around the valley. She read the information board, and traced her fingers around the drawing which showed the temple in its heyday. It was difficult to equate the colourful, mystical place of fiction with the stone walls which remained in reality. It had been revealed in 1949, she read, during a long, hot summer. The water from Coventina’s Well had kept the ground moist, which was why everything had been preserved. She allowed herself a little smile. The ancient gods and goddesses of the area were looking out for one another, as if they were guardians of the area. It was a shame nothing remained of the shrine to the Water Nymphs. She would have liked to have seen that as well. It was incredible what secrets the ground had kept over the centuries.

  ‘Have you seen Coventina’s Well?’ asked the backpacker lady, standing up and crumpling up her sandwich wrappers. ‘It’s supposed to be around here somewhere.’ She looked around her. ‘I’m not sure where I can find it.’

  ‘It’s over there,’ said Liv, indicating the area across the field. ‘At least I think it is. There’s a spring over there, anyway. I’d have loved to have seen it when it was in use.’ The backpacker lady nodded, her curls bouncing wildly around her face.

  ‘Me too. Such a lot of history. It’s fascinating. I don’t know whether I believe it was destroyed deliberately or just fell into disrepair. So many questions. I don’t suppose we’ll ever get the answer to them.’ She shrugged. ‘Some people think the offerings they found were placed there for safekeeping. Others think it was a slightly more exciting reason. Enjoy your day, anyway. I’m going to head up there and see what I can find.’

  Liv smiled at the lady and stood back to let her past. Why couldn’t Ryan be as excited or as interested in it? It was a Boy Thing. It had to be. And speak of the Devil; here he came, stumping up to her. He grinned at her, silently seeking absolution and hoping she was in a forgiving mood.

  ‘So. This is the Mithraic Temple,’ he said, trying to sound enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Liv nodded, looking at the backpack which was now dripping water onto the ground. Ryan had the grace to blush.

  ‘Yes, this is the Mithraeum. This was where the Roman soldiers worshipped,’ Liv said. She headed through the gap at the entrance to the temple, and walked up the central aisle to approach the altars. Ryan stood outside and looked around him. He gave a cursory glance to the information board.

  ‘It’s a bit like a sheep pen, isn’t it?’ he said, dumping the backpack onto the ground; where it rolled over again and settled itself in a pile of dirt.

  AD 390

  Marcus had returned Aelia’s purple dress to her and been thanked most delightfully for doing so. The festivities of Saturnalia were over for another year, and Marcus fingered the small bone gaming pieces Janus had given him as his token gift. He had them in a leather pouch slung around his waist, carrying them with him in case he was overcome with an urge to gamble in the vicus. As promised, Milenius had pulled rank on him for the comments he had made about his wine.

  ‘I know you are more used to working with weapons, Marcus, but I believe my standard needs attending to. There is a small tear on the edge of it. Do you think you could mend it for me, perhaps?’ Milenius had said. Marcus had taken the task on with a smile, and returned the repaired standard to his superior with good grace. Longinius had been less than forgiving with poor Janus. Janus had been tasked with polishing Longinius’ bugle until it shone. Every tiny fingerprint had to be removed and the bugle had be
en returned to Janus three times already. Marcus found his friend mooching around the fort, his eyebrows drawn together and a dark, glowering expression on his face.

  ‘I really do not know if it was worth being Saturnalicius princeps,’ Janus grumbled, holding the bugle between thumb and forefinger distastefully. ‘Remind me, if we are allowed to celebrate Saturnalia next year and I am fortunate to be elected again, to choose different slaves.’

  ‘The choice may be slender next year,’ laughed Marcus. ‘You may be promoted and therefore have less superiors available to you. Or,’ he shrugged, ‘you could always ask the Commandant to participate,’ said Marcus, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  ‘Merciful Jupiter!’ howled Janus. ‘No, please do not send that thought out into the world. I cannot imagine anything worse!’

  ‘Then take comfort in the fact that I managed to speak to the Pater about your initiation. I cannot promise you anything, but he is willing to look at your case and decide the outcome.’

  ‘Truly? You are a good friend, Marcus. I do not deserve you.’ Janus hugged Marcus and then drew away from him, a grin splitting his face. ‘Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘You are most welcome, my friend,’ smiled Marcus. ‘As I say, he cannot promise you a quick initiation, but he is aware of your name and your interest and is willing to consider it.’

  ‘You did not tell him anything about the new Commandant, did you?’ asked Janus. ‘Just…’

  ‘No! No. I did not mention that to him,’ said Marcus. He spoke the truth, although he felt uncomfortable that he had implied as much to the Pater. Still – what Janus did not know would not hurt him.

  ‘One more thing,’ said Janus, curiously. ‘Who is the Pater? Do you know his identity? I am intrigued as to this secrecy that surrounds our Mithraic Temple.’

  Marcus shook his head.

  ‘I am sorry. I do not know who he is. If I did, I would go up to him and ask him to favour you directly. I somehow think that seeing his face would make me less intimidated. But I suspect his identity will remain a secret. Annoying though that is.’

  Janus nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘I agree. But still!’ He smiled at Marcus and hugged him again. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it. Now. I must go and polish Longinius’ bugle once more.’ He picked the bugle up and scowled at it. ‘Do you think Coventina would accept this bugle as an offering? It would make her position stronger, no doubt. And hopefully encourage a thaw of this dreadful snow.’ Janus shivered. ‘How I long for a posting somewhere else in this empire,’ he groaned. ‘Somewhere; anywhere, where Mithras smiles upon us all and covers our world in sunlight and warmth!’

  1650

  Meggie wandered along the banks of the burn, making her way to the Sacred Well. Her Grandmother had told her that Coventina was a Roman water nymph, as well as a river goddess. The place had such a magical sense, that Meggie felt at one with the earth and the water and knew that she belonged there. Coventina had helped Meggie’s people; she had melted the snow and ice and made the rivers flow again every year. Sometimes, in a long, hard winter, Meggie would make her way through snowdrifts and ice to plead with Coventina; the goddess always ended Scota, the goddess of winter’s, hold and brought Spring to the countryside. Occasionally, Meggie had felt a presence at the Well. She knew it was Coventina herself, coming to bless her and keep her safe. Coventina was thankful that someone still remembered her. She would be there for Meggie, so long as Meggie did not forsake her.

  Meggie had heard the women speaking in the village, and now their comments twisted around her mind like yarn on a spinning wheel. What did they mean, the man ‘had flushed them out of Newcastle’? Someone had mentioned witchcraft last week in the market, and she shuddered to think about that. The dark arts. Animal sacrifice. Wishing ill on fellow human-beings. It was all so wrong. Meggie knew how to heal people and how to help people. She knew how to harness the forces of nature. She knew how to use herbs and plants to make things better. She shook her head. How could people be so unkind to others? Everything she did, was for the good of her fellow human beings. At least nobody would suspect her of being a witch. Everyone knew that she was good and only had good intentions. An image of Charles Hay flashed in her mind and Meggie felt unsettled. He was the only person she didn’t trust. Yet he paid her well for her services. She had no way of refusing Charles Hay’s demands. How could she? His father was the most influential man in the village and his son could do no wrong. So long as Charles’ reputation remained unsullied, everyone was happy.

  Meggie said a quick prayer for the souls she had prevented from being born, and sped up as she hurried to Coventina’s Well.

  ‘Blessed Coventina and the Water Nymphs – forgive me. I know what I do is wrong. Yet I have no choice.’

  Another image of Charles Hay slipped into her mind; and she quickly blotted it out as she squinted towards the Well, trying to make out the shape she saw by it – she thought it was human, but whether it was male or female, she could not tell. Part of her felt annoyed at the intrusion. Part of her felt intrigued that someone else should be kneeling by the Well, as this figure seemed to be doing. Were they worshipping Coventina as well? She hurried up a little, and stumbled on the uneven ground. She picked herself up again and ran to the Well.

  Meggie arrived by the stone structure and looked around the area. Nobody was there. She wondered if it was the same person who had been on the old fort a little while ago. Perhaps they had wandered off into the dip of the valley and disappeared from sight. Ah, well. If they were important, they would come back to her. Instead of worrying about it, she knelt down by the Well and bowed her head in prayer. After a little while, someone spoke to her.

  ‘I thought I would find you here,’ The voice was soft and round, full of the rolling nuances of the true Northumbrian. Meggie looked up and smiled.

  ‘Alice!’ she said. ‘I was just thinking about you.’ This was not far from the truth. Alice was the latest girl to suffer at the hands of Charles Hay. She was Meggie’s closest friend. It had broken Meggie’s heart when she had been approached this time. Alice had asked her first, as soon as she realised. In truth, the brew Meggie had prepared was already working, when Charles had demanded an audience with her. Yet she could not tell Charles this. Alice had sworn her to secrecy and Meggie was loyal to her friends and enemies alike – everything that needed to be secret, remained a secret. Alice smiled back at her and sat down by her friend, hugging her knees to her chest. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy braid, accentuating her pretty face and dark blue eyes. Meggie cast an appraising gaze over her friend. She looked older than her seventeen years today. It wasn’t surprising, considering what had happened to her recently. Despite her prettiness, her face was pale and there was a sadness about her eyes that hadn’t been there last week.

  ‘Are you well, my love?’ Meggie asked, sitting back on her heels. ‘Mr Hay asked me to check anyway, but I need to know for my own sake. Alice shrugged her shoulders but didn’t answer. She looked out over the countryside and the remains of the fort.

  ‘I’ve always loved it out here,’ said Alice, evading the question. ‘I’m not surprised you do as well. But it is a strange place.’

  Meggie nodded, shredding some flower heads into tiny trumpets, ready to throw into the Well.

  ‘It is strange for those folk who do not understand it. For those who do, it is magical.’

  Alice laughed, but there was a bitter note to the sound.

  ‘Magical. Aye. Things happen out here. Things mortals do not understand. But you are different. You understand the place. You believe in its guardians and its spirits, don’t you? Anyway. I came out here to say goodbye to you. I’m leaving, and didn’t want to go without telling you.’

  ‘Alice! Where are you going? Are you leaving because of...what’s happened?’ cried Meggie. Alice nodded, still staring out at the countryside.

  ‘It can’t be helped. I’m sorry to do this to you. I hope you underst
and,’ she said.

  ‘But where will you go?’ asked Meggie. ‘Is there anything I can do to stop you? Is it him – Charles Hay? Is he making you do this?’ Her voice rose hysterically and she felt tears springing to her eyes. She brushed them away angrily. Alice was the only one who truly knew her, who she felt truly comfortable with. What would she do without her? Her Grandmother had died last year, her parents long before that. If Alice left, she would be alone.

  ‘Dear Meggie,’ sighed Alice. ‘If there was another way, I would seize it.’ As if to underline her point, she unfolded her arms from around her knees and leaned towards Meggie. She took Meggie’s hands in hers. ‘Thank you, Meggie. Know that you did what you could. I’m sorry this had to happen.’ Alice raised Meggie’s hands to her face. She brought them to her lips and kissed them. Gently, she replaced them on Meggie’s knee and smiled at her friend. A tear rolled down Alice’s cheek as well. ‘I’ll see you again, though. Don’t be afraid,’ she said and stood up. She brushed her dress down and looked at Meggie, who remained kneeling on the grass.

  ‘Alice!’ she cried. ‘Please...’

  Alice shook her head and turned away. She walked off across the valley and over the old fort. Meggie watched her until she disappeared from sight.

  ‘No,’ Meggie whispered, suddenly understanding. ‘Oh no!’ She jumped to her feet and ran as fast as she could back to the village. ‘No!’ she cried as she left Coventina’s Well behind. The flower heads lay scattered across the grass, until a breeze blew up and lifted them off the ground to dance away across the valley.

  Meggie arrived back at the village, gasping for breath and red in the face.

  ‘Alice!’ she cried as she ran through the dirty track which was the main street of the village. ‘Alice!’ She pushed her way past a crowd of farmers who were arguing about something and wove her way through the buildings until she came to Alice’s house. Before she even reached the door, she heard howls and crying coming from the building and she began to panic.