No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal

by Emma Marshall

Since she and her brother had left Verulam, in the sunny days of July, for that distant Rome, which was then, to all intents and purposes, as far from Verulam as San Francisco or Lima would be from the St. Albans of to-day, Claudius had felt a terrible blank in his life. Games and athletic sports, feats of arms, and dashing military exercises, were much to him, but till he had lost Casca he did not know how his life had been bound up in him. Those pleasant talks in the twilight with Casca, who had read much, and was of a studious rather than a warlike nature, were all over. Claudius had felt the fascination of Casca’s conversation, although he professed to despise all those aspirations and longings which were in the boy’s heart, and welled up like an irrepressible spring, which could not be stopped in its overflow. With Casca and his young sister’s departure all the gentler elements had died out of Claudius’s life, and he had thrown himself more eagerly into any amusements, or any occupation which could drown reflection, living only in the present, and persuading himself that the present was enough. His old father had filled a post of honour under Carausius, who had held Britain as an independent province for ten years. Then Carausius was assassinated by Allectus, who had at first asserted himself, and held the command with but few Roman soldiers, and a large army of the northern tribes, who are now known to be the Caledonians.

When at last the whole province was united under the Imperial sway of Diocletian, old Caradon lived on in gloomy subjection to Roman authority, asking no public office, and allowing his two children, left to him by his Italian wife, to follow their own devices. He found them harder to control than any of the savage tribes over whom, during the temporary rule of Carausius, he had held authority; and the evening of his days was spent in a state of inaction and regret for the times which were past.

Severus treated him with a hardly concealed contempt, and his temper was soured and his patience tried by the wild freaks of his daughter Junia, and the independent spirit of his son Claudius, who had eagerly caught at the offer of accompanying Valens to hunt out the Christians under Amphibalus: little thinking that he should find Ebba amongst them, and be compelled to fulfil the solemn vow he had made to Hyacintha, the daughter of Severus, and the sister of his friend Casca.

Now, as he paced up and down before the rude stone building which was used as a sort of courthouse and prison in Radburn, Claudius thought on all possible means to effect her escape. As soon as it became known that Ebba was one of the two women who had been brought to Radburn with Amphibalus, she would be seized and beheaded, so that the price set upon her head in the spring might be claimed.

Claudius well knew the risk he ran in aiding and abetting Ebba’s escape, but he was brave and honourable, and held his vow made to Hyacintha by the gods as binding.

There was no time to lose. Valens would at once see the Governor and Severus at Verulam, and it was only too probable that the two women, Agatha and Anna, would be taken before them the next morning. They would be called upon to renounce their faith, the British slave Ebba would be recognised, and for her there could be no hope of mercy; while Agatha’s connection with the soldier who had died rather than carry out the sentence of death on Alban, would probably cause her to be tortured, if not instantly beheaded.

Under cover of the darkness of the late October night, before the moon, now on the wane, rose in the eastern sky, Claudius felt whatever he did must be done at once.

He summoned the men under his command to the small square hall in the building. A fire had been kindled there, and the smoke made its way out by the slits and apertures which pierced at intervals the thick walls. Claudius was a young commander, and the stout Roman soldiers were at first rather inclined to resent his authority. Claudius, however, had that free, pleasant manner which the roughest and hardest natures find it impossible to resist.

He ordered two of the men to go out and cater for provisions, adding, “We will sup together to-night, and will not spare the cup. See that every one of you gets his fill.”

Then he seated himself at the board on the rude bench which was placed near it, and the village of Radburn was soon found sufficient to supply the wants of the little band, and satisfy even their large appetites.