Fic: A Wedding Gift
"Slaves!" She made a quick, contemptuous gesture. "They stand in doorways and chatter like starlings; but Nissa is the worst of them all!"
Cottia is still fairly young when we first meet her in Eagle of the Ninth, so it's no surprise that she doesn't see her pestering slave Nissa as a person. I thought it would be interesting to write a story where this perception gets challenged.
Title: A Wedding Gift
Fandom: Rosemary Sutcliff, Eagle of the Ninth
Rating: G
Beta: carmarthen
Disclaimer: So not mine. :(
Summary: "My aunt Valaria means to give us Nissa as a wedding present, to go with us and spy on me!" Cottia cried.
Also at AO3, here.
“She means to give us Nissa!” Cottia shouted.
Marcus and Esca both looked startled, and well they might, for their backs had been on Cottia as she slipped into the Aquila garden. She was too old, perhaps, to come sneaking through the bushes, and the melting slush soaked her thin slippers; but she did not care.
“My aunt,” she said, panting with fury. “My aunt Valaria means to give us Nissa as a wedding present, to go with us and spy on me and check to see if we - ” and then she cut herself off, as embarrassed as she was enraged. “She will poke and pry her nose in everything, and she will talk and talk and talk until you yearn to stop your ears,” she finished.
Marcus half-rose from the bench. “She cannot be as bad as all that,” he protested hopefully.
“Yes, she can! You think not, because Esca would not spy, and your uncle would never ask it of him anyway; but Nissa does, and Aunt Valaria would, and even if Nissa were not set to spying she tells all the world everything anyway.”
Marcus frowned, and he and Esca exchanged a speaking look. Esca crouched by the bench, even as he had when he was Marcus’s slave; but he looked so different in a free man’s clothes. And he was not wearing Marcus’s tunics anymore: this one fit him well, showing cleanly the line of his broad shoulders. He would have been handsome were it not for his clipped ear.
Marcus raised his gaze to Cottia. “Well, what will you do about it?” he asked.
“Refuse to take her, of course!” Cottia cried. “I did not escape Calleva, just to have Aunt Valaria chain Calleva to me, so we can never be free!”
“When you are gone, your Aunt Valaria and Uncle Kaeso will have no use for her anymore,” Esca said gravely, looking at her. Cottia never could read his feelings. Sometimes she seemed to see them seething beneath his skin, and it fascinated her that he could be so calm despite it.
She did not think he approved of her.
“Yes - because her use has been spying on me,” said Cottia savagely. A drop of melted snow fell onto her wrist. She brushed it off.
“And they cannot want to feed a slave they have no use for, so probably she will be sold,” Esca said, and Cottia felt uncomfortable under his gaze. “And that is not a pleasant thing for a slave.”
“No - ” Cottia was embarrassed, and found herself poking her toe at the slush. She felt like a spoiled child under his gaze, and she resented it, far more than she had ever resented the tie between him and Marcus.
But he spoke true, so she said, “No, you are right. I did not think of that. I could…” She twisted her bracelet around her wrist, thinking, and avoiding Esca’s eyes. “I could free her! Yes! Marcus, what think you of that?”
“I think that would be a very fine thing,” he said. “And I think you had better not tell Aunt Valaria of it until after the wedding.” An unconscious smile bloomed on his face, and Cottia could not but smile back: the wedding would be soon now, soon, and they would leave Calleva.
But her smile slipped away. She wanted to be away from Calleva, and to be with Marcus always. But she could not imagine her life ahead, and a part of her was afraid.
But a warrior shows no fear, so Cottia only said, “I never tell Aunt Valaria anything until I must.”
“A sound plan,” Marcus agreed, and moved aside so she could sit beside him on the bench.
But before Cottia could sit, Nissa’s voice rose above the garden wall. “My lady Camilla!” she called. “Lady Camilla! Ladybird, where are you?”
Cottia rolled her eyes and hurried back.
***
So Cottia sweetly accepted Aunt Valaria’s wedding gift. And after the snowdrops had bloomed, and the wedding was to take place the next day - for Marcus wanted them all to go to his land and sow it, as soon as the winter was done - then Cottia told Nissa that she meant to free her. She did not think Nissa could keep a secret any longer than that.
Nissa took the news in silence, the last of Cottia’s new mantles hanging between her worn hands. She did not speak and did not speak, and Cottia began to fidget with discomfort, for Nissa was forever talking.
Nissa lowered the mantle to her lap, and at last she spoke. “Is it that you are sending me away?”
Yes, a childish voice in Cottia cried; but she looked at Nissa’s downcast eyes, and could not say it. “No-o,” she said, slowly. “No, it is…it is in the manner of a thank-you, for all these years you cared for me.”
It was only a kind thing to say; yet as she said it, she saw that it was true. Annoying though Nissa’s chatter and her spying were - she had cared for Cottia all those years, and kindly too, even when Cottia shouted and stormed and misbehaved. Nissa brushed her twig-tangled hair, mended her ripped gowns, and cleaned her skinned knees, without complaint; it was always Cottia who complained about Nissa.
Nissa raised her face to look at Cottia, and Cottia saw with horror the tears on her lined face. “Oh, please, please don’t cry,” Cottia said. “I have been horrid to you, I know; I never thought to thank you for anything before.”
“Don’t fret on it, Ladybird. No one thanks a slave,” said Nissa, and Cottia felt a hundred times worse.
“No, but I am sorry. And even if no one thanks a slave, still you deserved to be thanked, and I never thought - oh, Nissa, sometimes I think I’m too thoughtless to get married.” Heat rushed up in Cottia’s cheeks. “I don’t want to be any longer in Calleva,” she said, “and I know Marcus must go and claim his land, and I do not want to be left out of this adventure too. But I don’t know if I can run a household - ”
She took a deep breath, suddenly mortified, and set to packing her jewelry. “I am sorry. I did not mean to lay that on you.”
“No, milady, don’t fret,” said Nissa. “Any new bride is nervous, you know, it is the way of the world. Why, I remember at my last house, my lady Tertia cried nearly a week before she went away, and we had to lay cool clothes on her face would not swell so much, and still at her wedding she looked like a beet - ”
“Yes; I suppose,” Cottia said.
“And of course,” said Nissa, “Lady Tertia was going to live in a villa in Aqua Sulis, with nearly a hundred slaves, or so they said; whereas you are headed into the wilderness, and will have no one to help with the cooking, or washing the clothes, or breaking the sod - for assuredly, Master Aquila will need every hand on the farm, these first few years - though of course that will be hard for you, once you are with child - ”
Cottia felt a little faint.
“ - and babes are sweet, of course, Lady Camilla, but such a lot of work, and that’s before you even remember that they double the wash. And you’ll need your own herb garden, of course, so far out there from nowhere; and someone must clean whatever passes for your house…”
“Nissa,” said Cottia, and could but half believe her words. “You are free now, to go anywhere you please; but you are welcome to come with us, if you like.”
Nissa kissed her hand. “I would be honored. The country around there is beautiful, I hear. Just last week at the market, Lady Camilla, I heard from Echo that - ”
“You’ll have to call me Cottia now,” Cottia interrupted hastily. “It is my true name; and also, that is what Marcus calls me.”
“Of course, Lady Cottia,” Nissa said.
“No; only Cottia, now that you are free,” Cottia said. She was not sure why she said it, for it was not the custom for freedwomen to be so familiar; yet in her mind, she seemed to see Esca’s eyes on her, and could not do otherwise.
“Cottia,” said Nissa, and smiled, her nervous birdlike smile. She plucked at the mantle on her lap, folded it and unfolded it again, and said, “Could I ask a thing of you, milady? It is only a little favor, a very little one, and perhaps I ought not ask it after all, when you have already so favored me, but - ”
Cottia pushed back a sigh. Nissa would go on like this. “No, please ask,” she said.
Nissa dropped the mantle in her lap, and pressed her worn hands together, and leaned forward. “I would - that is, if you do not mind - I would like it very much if you would call me Clio.”
Cottia had not expected a favor like that. “Is it the name your mother gave you?” she asked.
Nissa’s nervous smile froze on her lips. “No-o. That name I forgot long ago. I have always liked the name Clio, and I thought, now that I am free, that perhaps it was time for a new name - for new masters always give new names - and now I could name myself; but it is just a foolish fancy, perhaps...”
Cottia did not know quite what to do. In all Nissa’s chatter, she could not recall her ever asking for anything personal. “No, no, of course we will call you Clio,” Cottia said. “Clio. I am glad you will be with us.”
And she thought that she might make it true.
Cottia is still fairly young when we first meet her in Eagle of the Ninth, so it's no surprise that she doesn't see her pestering slave Nissa as a person. I thought it would be interesting to write a story where this perception gets challenged.
Title: A Wedding Gift
Fandom: Rosemary Sutcliff, Eagle of the Ninth
Rating: G
Beta: carmarthen
Disclaimer: So not mine. :(
Summary: "My aunt Valaria means to give us Nissa as a wedding present, to go with us and spy on me!" Cottia cried.
Also at AO3, here.
“She means to give us Nissa!” Cottia shouted.
Marcus and Esca both looked startled, and well they might, for their backs had been on Cottia as she slipped into the Aquila garden. She was too old, perhaps, to come sneaking through the bushes, and the melting slush soaked her thin slippers; but she did not care.
“My aunt,” she said, panting with fury. “My aunt Valaria means to give us Nissa as a wedding present, to go with us and spy on me and check to see if we - ” and then she cut herself off, as embarrassed as she was enraged. “She will poke and pry her nose in everything, and she will talk and talk and talk until you yearn to stop your ears,” she finished.
Marcus half-rose from the bench. “She cannot be as bad as all that,” he protested hopefully.
“Yes, she can! You think not, because Esca would not spy, and your uncle would never ask it of him anyway; but Nissa does, and Aunt Valaria would, and even if Nissa were not set to spying she tells all the world everything anyway.”
Marcus frowned, and he and Esca exchanged a speaking look. Esca crouched by the bench, even as he had when he was Marcus’s slave; but he looked so different in a free man’s clothes. And he was not wearing Marcus’s tunics anymore: this one fit him well, showing cleanly the line of his broad shoulders. He would have been handsome were it not for his clipped ear.
Marcus raised his gaze to Cottia. “Well, what will you do about it?” he asked.
“Refuse to take her, of course!” Cottia cried. “I did not escape Calleva, just to have Aunt Valaria chain Calleva to me, so we can never be free!”
“When you are gone, your Aunt Valaria and Uncle Kaeso will have no use for her anymore,” Esca said gravely, looking at her. Cottia never could read his feelings. Sometimes she seemed to see them seething beneath his skin, and it fascinated her that he could be so calm despite it.
She did not think he approved of her.
“Yes - because her use has been spying on me,” said Cottia savagely. A drop of melted snow fell onto her wrist. She brushed it off.
“And they cannot want to feed a slave they have no use for, so probably she will be sold,” Esca said, and Cottia felt uncomfortable under his gaze. “And that is not a pleasant thing for a slave.”
“No - ” Cottia was embarrassed, and found herself poking her toe at the slush. She felt like a spoiled child under his gaze, and she resented it, far more than she had ever resented the tie between him and Marcus.
But he spoke true, so she said, “No, you are right. I did not think of that. I could…” She twisted her bracelet around her wrist, thinking, and avoiding Esca’s eyes. “I could free her! Yes! Marcus, what think you of that?”
“I think that would be a very fine thing,” he said. “And I think you had better not tell Aunt Valaria of it until after the wedding.” An unconscious smile bloomed on his face, and Cottia could not but smile back: the wedding would be soon now, soon, and they would leave Calleva.
But her smile slipped away. She wanted to be away from Calleva, and to be with Marcus always. But she could not imagine her life ahead, and a part of her was afraid.
But a warrior shows no fear, so Cottia only said, “I never tell Aunt Valaria anything until I must.”
“A sound plan,” Marcus agreed, and moved aside so she could sit beside him on the bench.
But before Cottia could sit, Nissa’s voice rose above the garden wall. “My lady Camilla!” she called. “Lady Camilla! Ladybird, where are you?”
Cottia rolled her eyes and hurried back.
***
So Cottia sweetly accepted Aunt Valaria’s wedding gift. And after the snowdrops had bloomed, and the wedding was to take place the next day - for Marcus wanted them all to go to his land and sow it, as soon as the winter was done - then Cottia told Nissa that she meant to free her. She did not think Nissa could keep a secret any longer than that.
Nissa took the news in silence, the last of Cottia’s new mantles hanging between her worn hands. She did not speak and did not speak, and Cottia began to fidget with discomfort, for Nissa was forever talking.
Nissa lowered the mantle to her lap, and at last she spoke. “Is it that you are sending me away?”
Yes, a childish voice in Cottia cried; but she looked at Nissa’s downcast eyes, and could not say it. “No-o,” she said, slowly. “No, it is…it is in the manner of a thank-you, for all these years you cared for me.”
It was only a kind thing to say; yet as she said it, she saw that it was true. Annoying though Nissa’s chatter and her spying were - she had cared for Cottia all those years, and kindly too, even when Cottia shouted and stormed and misbehaved. Nissa brushed her twig-tangled hair, mended her ripped gowns, and cleaned her skinned knees, without complaint; it was always Cottia who complained about Nissa.
Nissa raised her face to look at Cottia, and Cottia saw with horror the tears on her lined face. “Oh, please, please don’t cry,” Cottia said. “I have been horrid to you, I know; I never thought to thank you for anything before.”
“Don’t fret on it, Ladybird. No one thanks a slave,” said Nissa, and Cottia felt a hundred times worse.
“No, but I am sorry. And even if no one thanks a slave, still you deserved to be thanked, and I never thought - oh, Nissa, sometimes I think I’m too thoughtless to get married.” Heat rushed up in Cottia’s cheeks. “I don’t want to be any longer in Calleva,” she said, “and I know Marcus must go and claim his land, and I do not want to be left out of this adventure too. But I don’t know if I can run a household - ”
She took a deep breath, suddenly mortified, and set to packing her jewelry. “I am sorry. I did not mean to lay that on you.”
“No, milady, don’t fret,” said Nissa. “Any new bride is nervous, you know, it is the way of the world. Why, I remember at my last house, my lady Tertia cried nearly a week before she went away, and we had to lay cool clothes on her face would not swell so much, and still at her wedding she looked like a beet - ”
“Yes; I suppose,” Cottia said.
“And of course,” said Nissa, “Lady Tertia was going to live in a villa in Aqua Sulis, with nearly a hundred slaves, or so they said; whereas you are headed into the wilderness, and will have no one to help with the cooking, or washing the clothes, or breaking the sod - for assuredly, Master Aquila will need every hand on the farm, these first few years - though of course that will be hard for you, once you are with child - ”
Cottia felt a little faint.
“ - and babes are sweet, of course, Lady Camilla, but such a lot of work, and that’s before you even remember that they double the wash. And you’ll need your own herb garden, of course, so far out there from nowhere; and someone must clean whatever passes for your house…”
“Nissa,” said Cottia, and could but half believe her words. “You are free now, to go anywhere you please; but you are welcome to come with us, if you like.”
Nissa kissed her hand. “I would be honored. The country around there is beautiful, I hear. Just last week at the market, Lady Camilla, I heard from Echo that - ”
“You’ll have to call me Cottia now,” Cottia interrupted hastily. “It is my true name; and also, that is what Marcus calls me.”
“Of course, Lady Cottia,” Nissa said.
“No; only Cottia, now that you are free,” Cottia said. She was not sure why she said it, for it was not the custom for freedwomen to be so familiar; yet in her mind, she seemed to see Esca’s eyes on her, and could not do otherwise.
“Cottia,” said Nissa, and smiled, her nervous birdlike smile. She plucked at the mantle on her lap, folded it and unfolded it again, and said, “Could I ask a thing of you, milady? It is only a little favor, a very little one, and perhaps I ought not ask it after all, when you have already so favored me, but - ”
Cottia pushed back a sigh. Nissa would go on like this. “No, please ask,” she said.
Nissa dropped the mantle in her lap, and pressed her worn hands together, and leaned forward. “I would - that is, if you do not mind - I would like it very much if you would call me Clio.”
Cottia had not expected a favor like that. “Is it the name your mother gave you?” she asked.
Nissa’s nervous smile froze on her lips. “No-o. That name I forgot long ago. I have always liked the name Clio, and I thought, now that I am free, that perhaps it was time for a new name - for new masters always give new names - and now I could name myself; but it is just a foolish fancy, perhaps...”
Cottia did not know quite what to do. In all Nissa’s chatter, she could not recall her ever asking for anything personal. “No, no, of course we will call you Clio,” Cottia said. “Clio. I am glad you will be with us.”
And she thought that she might make it true.