Amazon - Slave of Rome

Amazon - Slave of Rome - Preface

Preface

“Golden shielded, silver sworded, man-loving, male child slaughtering Amazons”

Hellanicus,

Greek Historian 5th Century BCE

On this freezing night two women visited the Eboracum graveyard. One, high-born, come to mourn the loss of a much-loved child the other, a Sarmatian warrior, there to cast her newborn into the cold night and leave the gods to decide his fate.

Asellia knelt before a recently commissioned gravestone. Her husband had praised the memorial made from imported Italian marble and commented on its being a worthy monument for the child of Decimus Clodius Albinus, governor of Britain. “Dis Manibus..”, “To the Spirits of the departed”, the formal commemoration began. Its words were unequal to the depth of Asellia’s grief. Cold stone could not capture anything of what she had lost: sweet infant breath, tiny fingers and toes and feathery light brown curls. One night her perfect boy lay to sleep but was never to awake. Of course Albinus’ punishment of the wet-nurse had been swift and final. Cruelty was all he knew. Cruelty would not bring back her child. Hunched and trembling Asellia made an offering of wine to the gods, her prayers beseeching them to take care of her beautiful child. Silently she made another prayer that the gods would take her too. She had no reason to live.

In the darkest recess of the graveyard a woman clutching a small bundle, pressed her back into a tombstone. The irony of its carvings was not lost on her. The limestone memorial captured the image of a helmeted horseman on a rearing stallion. In his hand he gripped the head of a barbarian whose body lay hunched under his vanquisher’s feet. A Sarmatian cavalry-woman of the Ala Sarmatia, Mhea would face a legion of such foes if she could escape her present nightmare. Silent tears ran from her eyes, down her cheeks to splash the parcel of cloths she held tight in her arms. Amidst the rags a newborn child slept.

Her birth pangs had come on suddenly the pain in her lower back signaling that soon she would be ready to push this child into the world. Thankfully his birth was quick and accomplished unaided amongst the lengthening shadows of the cemetery. Now it was time to leave the child and return to her life with the cavalry that patrolled the borderlands of Britannia.

Although it broke her heart to look at him and see already the resemblance to his father Mhea pulled back the blankets and placed a small Sarmatian Tamga symbol on the infant’s chest then readjusted the cloths tightly around the baby. Feeling the icy blast of a wintry flurry the child stirred. Before he could wake Mhea placed the bundle at the base of the cavalryman’s tombstone and turned to walk away. The baby began to whimper as he lost the warmth of his mother. Already a frost was forming. She could feel it crunching beneath her boots. With eyes closed and tears spilling down the front of her padded jacket Mhea prayed for the gods to be merciful and allow the cold of the night to make his time short. As the child’s cries grew louder Mhea hesitated. A small betrayal of emotion. Without looking back she walked on. This is what it is to be an Amazon.