One Virgin Too Many

LVII

I have always hated wells.

The worst part was being first positioned. Upright, I could have climbed in, easing myself gradually into the shaft. Head down, there was a moment when I just had to drop. Had I not already collected quite enough nightmares to haunt me, this would have been the one that woke me screaming for years afterwards.

They did their best to maneuver me safely over the edge. After I was fed past the timbers, the bad moment came when I felt the helping hands let go of me, and my weight tensing the ropes around my ankles. I swung out of control as they first took the weight. I would have screamed with terror but I was too busy stopping myself being scraped against the side wall. I heard a lot of desperate noise above me, then they regained control. I had my arms out to brace myself and control lateral movement. I kept trying to move my feet apart too, forgetting they were taking my weight. The descent was fairly smooth, but if they let me slip unexpectedly, my palms were badly grazed. I swore. In my head. We should have brought in stevedores for this part. At this rate, I was about to find out how a sack feels when it has been carelessly spilt open on the docks.

They steadied. Thank the gods for that. They were learning. I might have been learning too, learning to trust them. In that position, frankly, you never do.

Slowly now they let me down.

Despite the light we had sent down first, it was virtually pitch black. I felt like a trussed goat, but without the support of a spit. Petro was right. The blood had drained from my feet and legs. I was far too hot. My ears throbbed. My eyeballs were straining. My arms felt swollen. My hands felt huge. Sweat began to trickle down my chest inside my tunic and down my face, straight into my eyes.

It was difficult to look down. I kept my head level, except for occasional attempts to see whether I was near the child.

The ropes felt as if they were stretching. Best not to think about that. I tried not to think about anything.

I was so far down, those above had no chance of controlling me. Frequently I bashed against the sides. I used my hands as best I could, but that sent loose material skittering below me. The atmosphere was dank, and sometimes my palms slipped on slime. If there was any sound from Gaia, I was too preoccupied to hear her.

They had stopped lowering. I was stuck. Panic rose, as I hung motionless. I forced myself to keep calm and still.

"Falco!" Petronius. "If you shout, call 'Down' or 'Up!' " His voice seemed muffled, yet it echoed around me. My anxiety increased. Soon I would be so frightened I would be absolutely useless.

"Down!" Nothing happened. They had not heard me. After a moment they started to drop me further anyway. Thanks, lads. If I ever yelled "Up" would they hear that?

Suddenly I thought I heard a whimper. Faint light glimmered at last. I knew they had managed to position the lantern right opposite Gaia. As I tipped my head back, my skull hit something. Dear gods-the boards!

I reached out blindly. My hands found something. I clawed into cloth; pulled; felt weight; was kneed in the eye; clung on.

Around me noise roared. I had dropped right into the fallen boards and dislodged them. They were now tumbling down the shaft. For a moment, I felt as if I was going with them. Dirt and timber showered down below us. Noise thundered. I thought I heard water splash. Shouts came faintly from somewhere I could not place. Of course the light went out.

Everything settled. I stopped spinning, more or less. My left leg felt half dragged from its hip where Petro and the others must have been trying to help still me. The harness was by now cutting deep into my shoulders and waist; they must have used the safety rope. I was in agony-but now hard against my chest was the weight of a child. I had felt cold limbs. Her hair had brushed my cheek. I gripped her clothing fast, forcing my hands inwards to keep her tight against me, sticking out my elbows to protect her from being crushed against the rough sides of the well.

"Up! Up!"

If the descent was ghastly, the ascent was even worse. It was the longest few minutes I had ever lived. The lads must have pulled as hard as possible. They must have raised me as fast as they dared. It seemed endless. I was unable to brace myself, but repeatedly swung against the stony shaft. It was unbelievably painful. I could feel that the ropes were now definitely stretching.

"Stop!"

She had moved. I lost my grip.

As she slipped, somehow I regained my hold on her. But she was now much lower, held against my neck and not my chest. No way could I move her. Any moment I would lose her. I dared not adjust my grip in case she fell again. I just clung on, even sinking my teeth into her dress where I felt cloth in front of my face.

I could not shout now. The others decided to start pulling me up again anyway.

From above, I heard Petronius-nearer-speaking quiet but tense reassurance. Perhaps he could see me now. It sounded as though he was soothing the child. He may have been calming me. I fixed my attention on his voice and waited for death or rescue. Either would be suitable. Either would be a relief.

When hands grabbed my ankles, I jumped so much it nearly ruined everything. Rough timber scraped my spine. Suddenly I was jerked so fast I would have lost Gaia for certain, only by then other people had taken her. I remembered to unclench my teeth. All parts of my own body were being gripped ferociously, lest I fell back down.

I must have been safe because I heard Petro grunting, "Full moon below!" Yes. The worst had happened. I was now being tortured by my tunic, which had worked free, stifling me and exposing all my nether parts.

The jokes started coming thick and fast. "Is that what all the fuss has been about? A lot of women have been very loyal, I must say-"

"You'd shrink a bit if you'd been through what he just has!"

I didn't care. They had brought me out. These strong, insulting bastards were wonderful. I was swung like a sandbag, caught, hauled sideways, dropped gently onto earth. Air hit me. Bright June sun blinded me. The ropes loosened. The pain grew worse as my blood returned too fast to its accustomed channels. I could near Nux barking hysterically; then she must have escaped from whoever was holding her because next minute a hot tongue was passionately licking my face.

I wrenched violently sideways-and, yes, glimpsed the child. She was white-skinned, her clothes filthy, her dark hair tangled. The vigiles were rubbing her limbs furiously; then they bundled her into a blanket. One swept her up, and he set off at a run towards the house-so they thought she was alive.

They had laid me down on my side. Somebody was violently massaging my own shins and calves. Suddenly I became aware of my agony. I was so cold I had lost all feeling below my waist. My feet were free. People were dragging my boots off to attend to the entrenched weals made by the supporting ropes.

I could rest. I could stop being frightened. As I gasped for breath, my brain stopped fearing it would burst.

"Gaia-"

"She's alive. She's gone to the doctor. Well done."

I closed my eyes. The world stilled gradually.

"Do you want anything, Falco?"

"Peace. Merit among my equals. Restraint from the gods. The love of a good woman-that's a particular woman, by the way. The Blues to beat the bloody Greens into Hades. A home with its own bathhouse. A dog who doesn't smell. A pork rissole with rosemary and pine nuts, and a large beaker of red wine." I waited for one or another to tell me that I talked too much. They must all have collapsed with exhaustion too.

"I'm sure we can do you the rissole," offered young Aelianus after a moment. He sounded tired and remote.

"And the drink," said Petronius in an interested voice.

"We could fetch his woman for him," said Anacrites, also rather more friendly than his norm. "Assuming she wants to come."

I rolled on my back and looked at the three of them. They were all sitting on the turf around me. Despite the jibes, they looked devastated. Their hands, where they had paid out the rope, were lolling limply on their knees, red raw. Their heads hung. Their faces wore the drained and haggard look of men in shock who had been far too close to another's near death. They stared back, unable to do more.

"Thanks, partners," I said tenderly. "I'm glad you didn't leave me down there. I would never have wanted to be on your consciences."

"Think nothing of it," said one of them, smiling. I cannot even remember now which of them it was.