tanaquific (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tanaquific) wrote2012-10-27 08:26 pm
tanaquific) wrote2012-10-27 08:26 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Eagle of the Ninth - Two Worlds Meeting - General
Title: Two Worlds Meeting
Fandom: The Eagle of the Ninth – Rosemary Sutcliff
Rating: General
Contains: Nothing beyond canon
Words: 2285 words
Summary: Marcus, Esca and Cottia still have much to learn about each others' worlds as they work together to turn a downland valley into a farm. Written for thespook_me Halloween ficathon.
Disclaimer: This story is based on the Rosemary Sutcliff novel The Eagle of the Ninth. It was written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from it nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to Scribbler (scribblesinink) for the beta.
oOo
Marcus's heart lifted at the sight of the valley opening out below him as he crested the ridge. Blinking away the raindrops that, in the half dusk, blurred his vision, he gently urged his tired mare on down the track. She snorted softly, her ears pricking up as she scented her stable—or, perhaps, caught his own mood. For all the misery of the autumn rainstorm he had ridden through, which had made him wonder more than once in the past few hours why he had turned down his uncle's invitation to spend another night in Calleva, he was glad to be home. After all, there had been no reason to stay: he had concluded the business that had taken him to Calleva—more quickly than expected—and was keen to share the news of his successess with Cottia and Esca.
Seen from this angle, the houseplace wing was dark, but a lit lantern already hung at one end of the low barn that stood at right angles. In the gusting rain, the lantern cast an uncertain but welcoming light among the cluster of wattle-and-daub buildings.
Marcus had supposed from the lantern's presence that he would find Esca in the barn, attending to evening tasks. Yet when he had slid off his mare and led her inside to strip off her harness and rub her down, he found no sign of Esca, though the barn was crowded with all the cattle and sheep brought in from the fields.
Nor did he find Cottia once he turned his steps to the houseplace, pushing through the outer door into the shelter of the corridor that ran the length of building and led from the sleeping cells at one end to the dining room at the other, past the tiny atrium where they sat on those evenings when there was no work to be done elsewhere. Marcus supposed that both Esca and Cottia might be in the kitchen, which formed the third wing of the little courtyard, set apart from the houseplace in case of fire. Certainly, dinner could be expected soon: warm light was spilling out of the doorway of the dining room. Too weary to seek further, Marcus cast off his cloak and sank on to one of the benches set around the dining table.
There was bread already laid on the flat dish in front of him and he broke off a piece and ate eagerly, not caring to wait for whatever else Cottia and Esca might have prepared. A part of his mind wondered, as he chewed the honey-sweetened bread and let himself be warmed by the heat thrown out by the brazier in one corner of the room, why they had not set his dish in its usual place, but nearer the door. Wondered too, how they had known to set a dish for him at all, when his return was not expected until the day after, at the earliest. But he was too sleepy to wonder overmuch. Perhaps, he thought, reaching for the jug of thin beer that had also been set ready and filling the nearest goblet, they had seen him coming down the track and hastily made a welcome for him....
A sharply indrawn breath from the doorway behind him jerked him from his half-stupor. Even as he blinked away the fog of exhaustion, he heard a second voice from a little further away: Cottia's, though all she said was a surprised-sounding "What—?" before she, too, let out a gasp.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Marcus saw her standing side by side with Esca in the doorway. Both of them wore the strangest look, almost as if they had seen a ghost.
"It is all right," he reassured them. "It is only Calleva I am come from, not returned from Erebus. The business went well, and I would be home...." He trailed off uncertainly as they went on looking at him, not unwelcoming but not quite welcoming either.
After a moment, Cottia gave herself a little shake and moved forward to place the bowl she was carrying on the table. "Of course." She glanced back over her shoulder at Esca, who followed more slowly with the platter he carried. "Did we not set a guest-place, after all?"
Esca still wore a frown as he set the platter down, but after a moment, he allowed himself a small smile. "We did. But I am thinking we should set another now."
Cottia nodded at him. "I am thinking that also."
Marcus watched, puzzled, as Esca hurried out of the room again, before he turned back to Cottia. She had moved to stand next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder as if to reassure herself he was really there. He caught her hand and kissed it. "It is good to be home." He sent another puzzled glance in the direction Esca had gone. "But why another place?"
"It is good to have you home." Cottia sank on to the bench next to him. "And another place because it is the Feast of Samhaim."
Marcus dimly remembered hearing some talk when he had been at the fort during his first—his only!—command, and then, later, when he and Esca had been beyond the wall. "That is a feast the tribes hold?"
Cottia nodded. "It is the feast of home-coming. To bring the cattle and sheep safe within the gates for shelter, until the weather grows bettter. And to offer shelter to all our people likewise—even the ghosts of our dead."
"Ah." Marcus gave Cottia's hand another squeeze. "And so, when you saw me sitting here, in the place you had set, and not expected for a day or more...." He threw an apologetic glance toward Esca, who had returned with another dish and cup. "I am sorry."
Esca returned the look, his lips twitching in amusement, though his eyes were still grave. "No need to be sorry. See, here is another place, should any other wanderer chance upon us, living or not. And here is good food enough for all of us." He gestured toward the other dishes on the table, before folding himself onto a bench in his accustomed place.
"One thing I still do not understand." Marcus reached for the hard-boiled duck eggs and beets and dried fruit arranged on the platter Esca had carried in. "This house has stood here only since the frosts of last winter passed and we could break soil. And we three," he gestured around at them, "are all the family that has dwelt here."
"But we are perhaps not the first to live in this valley," Cottia pointed out gently as she too sat down and began to serve herself. "And Esca and I, we have kin who, though they lived—and died—many miles East or North of this place, may yet seek shelter under a new roof. And perhaps even a stranger on the road, forever passing, may have need of welcome."
Marcus nodded, accepting her explanation. Accepting that there were still mysteries in the curves of the shield boss that he did not understand.
oOo
At first Cottia thought it was the patter of returning rain that had woken her. The skies had cleared a little earlier, just before she and Marcus and Esca had turned in to bed, and the soft drumming on the thatch above them had ceased. Yet when the sound came again, as she lay half-wakeful, it was not the gentle rattle of rain but a sharp clatter, as of small stones falling.
Nearly at the same moment, she became aware that the bed next to her was empty. Perhaps Marcus, always a light sleeper, had already woken and gone to investigate.
The noise came again, this time closer, almost next to her on the other side of the wattle-and-daub outer wall of the house. This time, she thought she heard someone speaking as well, although too quietly for her to make out the words.
Slipping from under the bedclothes, she padded in bare feet to the doorway, shivering as she pulled back the blanket that hung across the door and met a chilly draught blowing along the corridor. A faint outline showed her where the door that led out in the direction of the barn stood a little open. Maybe Marcus had gone outside to investigate.
The strange clatter sounded yet again from beyond the wall behind her. She was sure now that, through the open door, she could hear a voice as well, still too low for her to make out what it said. She whispered Marcus's name into the darkness in the corridor, trying to calm her racing heart.
"What is it?" It was Esca who replied, speaking softly as he ducked his head out of his own sleeping cell, which lay between where Cottia stood and the open door.
"There's someone moving about outside," Cottia murmured, gesturing beyond him towards the door. "And talking. And I don't know where Marcus has gone...."
Even as Esca turned to look in the direction she indicated, she saw a dim white shape appear briefly in the space between door and door-post. Again, the rattle came, and the muttered words.
Esca sucked in a sharp breath. "Lugh protect us!" He ducked back inside his sleeping cell for a moment, before emerging again, dagger in hand, and cautiously making his way towards the open door. Even as he began to move, Cottia heard another sharp clatter from the front of the houseplace, from where she supposed that pale shadow she had seen might now have reached.
Following Esca, Cottia glanced back over her shoulder. Where was Marcus? Where had he gone? Had—? She pressed down on the thought. They had set another dish and cup: surely the spirits of the dead could not begrudge that Marcus had taken the place set first for them.
Esca had reached the door. He quietly pushed it further open, glancing first towards where the shade had come from and then peering around the door in the direction the figure had gone. After a moment, apparently finding nothing in sight, he slid outside and moved to where he could look around the corner of the building.
"What the—?" Esca no longer bothered to keep his voice low. A moment later, Cottia understood the reason as he added, "Marcus, in the names of all the gods, what are you doing?"
Hurrying after Esca, Cottia found him standing with his hands on his hips, staring disbelievingly at her husband. There was just enough light from the moon shining down between the ragged clouds for her to see that Marcus was carrying a small sack in the crook of one arm and that his other hand was curled around a fistful of something: whatever was contained in the sack, she supposed. Cottia thought Esca's question was an excellent one and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for her husband's explanation.
Marcus gave an embarrassed-looking shrug. "It is the ritual of Lemuria," he muttered.
"Sa, is it so?" Esca lifted a hand and scratched the back of his neck. "And what is it, this ritual, that it must be performed in the middle of the night and have all the rest of the household fearing some evil has befallen you?"
Marcus dipped his head. "For that I am sorry. As for the ritual, it is our rite of the dead. The Roman rite, I mean. To exorcise the restless spirits who mean us harm. There are words to be said and...." He hestitated and then opened his hand. "Beans to be thrown." Cottia thought that if there were more light, she would have been able to see a flush on his cheeks.
Esca laughed, though not unkindly. "Beans?"
"Beans," Marcus confirmed, now sounding as if he could see how silly it all seemed. He looked past Esca to Cottia. "I couldn't sleep, you see, for thinking I'd taken a place that had been set for others, and that perhaps that would bring ill-luck. To either of you, or both, or to the farm. I couldn't bear if anything should happen, just because...."
Cottia stepped past Esca, touching him briefly on the arm as she made her way towards Marcus. "So you wanted to make sure we were safe?" She smiled at him. "Is the rite complete? Or is there more to be done?"
"I still...." Marcus gestured shyly with the handful of beans. "Another three times. And then...." He hesitated before plunging on, "I must bang a cooking pot, while telling the spirits to be gone." He glanced over his shoulder and Cottia saw a bronze cauldron from the kitchen had been propped against the wall, ready for Marcus to catch it up once he was done with the beans. He cleared his throat. "In truth, it is the rest of the household who should do that...."
"So...." Smiling to herself, Cottia moved past him and picked up the cauldron. She turned back to face him. "I am ready to do my part," she said lightly.
Marcus gaped at her, apparently not quite believing she was prepared to humour him rather than simply laugh at his fancies.
"Should I fetch a pot also?" Esca asked from where he still stood by the other corner of the building. When Marcus turned to look at him, he added quietly. "I also would not have any ill-luck come to those I care for."
A few moments later, joyfully raising a din with the cauldron that would surely frighten away any spirits who lingered, Cottia thought that no real ill-luck could ever come to the farm as long as it was blessed with the three of them united in love.
oOo
End Note: The Feast of Samhain is very briefly mentioned in The Eagle of the Ninth, during the description of the Feast of New Spears, although it's not clear whether the custom is ever explicitly explained to Marcus. In The Silver Branch, Sutcliff does have someone explicitly explain the custom to Flavius—which is a little odd, given Flavius grew up in Britain; it would have made more sense to have Justin ask the question. Anyway, I feel justified in having Marcus largely ignorant of British tribal customs and certainly not expecting to find them being carried out in his own (Roman) home, while also having Esca and Cottia feeling the need to perform them. The details of the Roman rite of Lemuria, which was performed on May 9, are taken from Ovid's Fasti Book V.
Fandom: The Eagle of the Ninth – Rosemary Sutcliff
Rating: General
Contains: Nothing beyond canon
Words: 2285 words
Summary: Marcus, Esca and Cottia still have much to learn about each others' worlds as they work together to turn a downland valley into a farm. Written for the
spook_me Halloween ficathon. Disclaimer: This story is based on the Rosemary Sutcliff novel The Eagle of the Ninth. It was written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from it nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to Scribbler (
scribblesinink) for the beta.Marcus's heart lifted at the sight of the valley opening out below him as he crested the ridge. Blinking away the raindrops that, in the half dusk, blurred his vision, he gently urged his tired mare on down the track. She snorted softly, her ears pricking up as she scented her stable—or, perhaps, caught his own mood. For all the misery of the autumn rainstorm he had ridden through, which had made him wonder more than once in the past few hours why he had turned down his uncle's invitation to spend another night in Calleva, he was glad to be home. After all, there had been no reason to stay: he had concluded the business that had taken him to Calleva—more quickly than expected—and was keen to share the news of his successess with Cottia and Esca.
Seen from this angle, the houseplace wing was dark, but a lit lantern already hung at one end of the low barn that stood at right angles. In the gusting rain, the lantern cast an uncertain but welcoming light among the cluster of wattle-and-daub buildings.
Marcus had supposed from the lantern's presence that he would find Esca in the barn, attending to evening tasks. Yet when he had slid off his mare and led her inside to strip off her harness and rub her down, he found no sign of Esca, though the barn was crowded with all the cattle and sheep brought in from the fields.
Nor did he find Cottia once he turned his steps to the houseplace, pushing through the outer door into the shelter of the corridor that ran the length of building and led from the sleeping cells at one end to the dining room at the other, past the tiny atrium where they sat on those evenings when there was no work to be done elsewhere. Marcus supposed that both Esca and Cottia might be in the kitchen, which formed the third wing of the little courtyard, set apart from the houseplace in case of fire. Certainly, dinner could be expected soon: warm light was spilling out of the doorway of the dining room. Too weary to seek further, Marcus cast off his cloak and sank on to one of the benches set around the dining table.
There was bread already laid on the flat dish in front of him and he broke off a piece and ate eagerly, not caring to wait for whatever else Cottia and Esca might have prepared. A part of his mind wondered, as he chewed the honey-sweetened bread and let himself be warmed by the heat thrown out by the brazier in one corner of the room, why they had not set his dish in its usual place, but nearer the door. Wondered too, how they had known to set a dish for him at all, when his return was not expected until the day after, at the earliest. But he was too sleepy to wonder overmuch. Perhaps, he thought, reaching for the jug of thin beer that had also been set ready and filling the nearest goblet, they had seen him coming down the track and hastily made a welcome for him....
A sharply indrawn breath from the doorway behind him jerked him from his half-stupor. Even as he blinked away the fog of exhaustion, he heard a second voice from a little further away: Cottia's, though all she said was a surprised-sounding "What—?" before she, too, let out a gasp.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Marcus saw her standing side by side with Esca in the doorway. Both of them wore the strangest look, almost as if they had seen a ghost.
"It is all right," he reassured them. "It is only Calleva I am come from, not returned from Erebus. The business went well, and I would be home...." He trailed off uncertainly as they went on looking at him, not unwelcoming but not quite welcoming either.
After a moment, Cottia gave herself a little shake and moved forward to place the bowl she was carrying on the table. "Of course." She glanced back over her shoulder at Esca, who followed more slowly with the platter he carried. "Did we not set a guest-place, after all?"
Esca still wore a frown as he set the platter down, but after a moment, he allowed himself a small smile. "We did. But I am thinking we should set another now."
Cottia nodded at him. "I am thinking that also."
Marcus watched, puzzled, as Esca hurried out of the room again, before he turned back to Cottia. She had moved to stand next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder as if to reassure herself he was really there. He caught her hand and kissed it. "It is good to be home." He sent another puzzled glance in the direction Esca had gone. "But why another place?"
"It is good to have you home." Cottia sank on to the bench next to him. "And another place because it is the Feast of Samhaim."
Marcus dimly remembered hearing some talk when he had been at the fort during his first—his only!—command, and then, later, when he and Esca had been beyond the wall. "That is a feast the tribes hold?"
Cottia nodded. "It is the feast of home-coming. To bring the cattle and sheep safe within the gates for shelter, until the weather grows bettter. And to offer shelter to all our people likewise—even the ghosts of our dead."
"Ah." Marcus gave Cottia's hand another squeeze. "And so, when you saw me sitting here, in the place you had set, and not expected for a day or more...." He threw an apologetic glance toward Esca, who had returned with another dish and cup. "I am sorry."
Esca returned the look, his lips twitching in amusement, though his eyes were still grave. "No need to be sorry. See, here is another place, should any other wanderer chance upon us, living or not. And here is good food enough for all of us." He gestured toward the other dishes on the table, before folding himself onto a bench in his accustomed place.
"One thing I still do not understand." Marcus reached for the hard-boiled duck eggs and beets and dried fruit arranged on the platter Esca had carried in. "This house has stood here only since the frosts of last winter passed and we could break soil. And we three," he gestured around at them, "are all the family that has dwelt here."
"But we are perhaps not the first to live in this valley," Cottia pointed out gently as she too sat down and began to serve herself. "And Esca and I, we have kin who, though they lived—and died—many miles East or North of this place, may yet seek shelter under a new roof. And perhaps even a stranger on the road, forever passing, may have need of welcome."
Marcus nodded, accepting her explanation. Accepting that there were still mysteries in the curves of the shield boss that he did not understand.
At first Cottia thought it was the patter of returning rain that had woken her. The skies had cleared a little earlier, just before she and Marcus and Esca had turned in to bed, and the soft drumming on the thatch above them had ceased. Yet when the sound came again, as she lay half-wakeful, it was not the gentle rattle of rain but a sharp clatter, as of small stones falling.
Nearly at the same moment, she became aware that the bed next to her was empty. Perhaps Marcus, always a light sleeper, had already woken and gone to investigate.
The noise came again, this time closer, almost next to her on the other side of the wattle-and-daub outer wall of the house. This time, she thought she heard someone speaking as well, although too quietly for her to make out the words.
Slipping from under the bedclothes, she padded in bare feet to the doorway, shivering as she pulled back the blanket that hung across the door and met a chilly draught blowing along the corridor. A faint outline showed her where the door that led out in the direction of the barn stood a little open. Maybe Marcus had gone outside to investigate.
The strange clatter sounded yet again from beyond the wall behind her. She was sure now that, through the open door, she could hear a voice as well, still too low for her to make out what it said. She whispered Marcus's name into the darkness in the corridor, trying to calm her racing heart.
"What is it?" It was Esca who replied, speaking softly as he ducked his head out of his own sleeping cell, which lay between where Cottia stood and the open door.
"There's someone moving about outside," Cottia murmured, gesturing beyond him towards the door. "And talking. And I don't know where Marcus has gone...."
Even as Esca turned to look in the direction she indicated, she saw a dim white shape appear briefly in the space between door and door-post. Again, the rattle came, and the muttered words.
Esca sucked in a sharp breath. "Lugh protect us!" He ducked back inside his sleeping cell for a moment, before emerging again, dagger in hand, and cautiously making his way towards the open door. Even as he began to move, Cottia heard another sharp clatter from the front of the houseplace, from where she supposed that pale shadow she had seen might now have reached.
Following Esca, Cottia glanced back over her shoulder. Where was Marcus? Where had he gone? Had—? She pressed down on the thought. They had set another dish and cup: surely the spirits of the dead could not begrudge that Marcus had taken the place set first for them.
Esca had reached the door. He quietly pushed it further open, glancing first towards where the shade had come from and then peering around the door in the direction the figure had gone. After a moment, apparently finding nothing in sight, he slid outside and moved to where he could look around the corner of the building.
"What the—?" Esca no longer bothered to keep his voice low. A moment later, Cottia understood the reason as he added, "Marcus, in the names of all the gods, what are you doing?"
Hurrying after Esca, Cottia found him standing with his hands on his hips, staring disbelievingly at her husband. There was just enough light from the moon shining down between the ragged clouds for her to see that Marcus was carrying a small sack in the crook of one arm and that his other hand was curled around a fistful of something: whatever was contained in the sack, she supposed. Cottia thought Esca's question was an excellent one and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for her husband's explanation.
Marcus gave an embarrassed-looking shrug. "It is the ritual of Lemuria," he muttered.
"Sa, is it so?" Esca lifted a hand and scratched the back of his neck. "And what is it, this ritual, that it must be performed in the middle of the night and have all the rest of the household fearing some evil has befallen you?"
Marcus dipped his head. "For that I am sorry. As for the ritual, it is our rite of the dead. The Roman rite, I mean. To exorcise the restless spirits who mean us harm. There are words to be said and...." He hestitated and then opened his hand. "Beans to be thrown." Cottia thought that if there were more light, she would have been able to see a flush on his cheeks.
Esca laughed, though not unkindly. "Beans?"
"Beans," Marcus confirmed, now sounding as if he could see how silly it all seemed. He looked past Esca to Cottia. "I couldn't sleep, you see, for thinking I'd taken a place that had been set for others, and that perhaps that would bring ill-luck. To either of you, or both, or to the farm. I couldn't bear if anything should happen, just because...."
Cottia stepped past Esca, touching him briefly on the arm as she made her way towards Marcus. "So you wanted to make sure we were safe?" She smiled at him. "Is the rite complete? Or is there more to be done?"
"I still...." Marcus gestured shyly with the handful of beans. "Another three times. And then...." He hesitated before plunging on, "I must bang a cooking pot, while telling the spirits to be gone." He glanced over his shoulder and Cottia saw a bronze cauldron from the kitchen had been propped against the wall, ready for Marcus to catch it up once he was done with the beans. He cleared his throat. "In truth, it is the rest of the household who should do that...."
"So...." Smiling to herself, Cottia moved past him and picked up the cauldron. She turned back to face him. "I am ready to do my part," she said lightly.
Marcus gaped at her, apparently not quite believing she was prepared to humour him rather than simply laugh at his fancies.
"Should I fetch a pot also?" Esca asked from where he still stood by the other corner of the building. When Marcus turned to look at him, he added quietly. "I also would not have any ill-luck come to those I care for."
A few moments later, joyfully raising a din with the cauldron that would surely frighten away any spirits who lingered, Cottia thought that no real ill-luck could ever come to the farm as long as it was blessed with the three of them united in love.
End Note: The Feast of Samhain is very briefly mentioned in The Eagle of the Ninth, during the description of the Feast of New Spears, although it's not clear whether the custom is ever explicitly explained to Marcus. In The Silver Branch, Sutcliff does have someone explicitly explain the custom to Flavius—which is a little odd, given Flavius grew up in Britain; it would have made more sense to have Justin ask the question. Anyway, I feel justified in having Marcus largely ignorant of British tribal customs and certainly not expecting to find them being carried out in his own (Roman) home, while also having Esca and Cottia feeling the need to perform them. The details of the Roman rite of Lemuria, which was performed on May 9, are taken from Ovid's Fasti Book V.