He touched the gold bracelet on his wrist. "I was at the scallop-shell altar," he said, "the night a shower of stars fell from the sky. A river of debris covered the countryside, mostly bits of ice and rock no bigger than a grain of sand, but that night, as the star-shower streaked the sky, I saw a star fall to earth, and I ran out into the hills to find it." He touched the small, gray stone on his gold bracelet. "The crust was hot at first, but it cooled, and I kept it as a trophy, an actual fragment of a star."
His face darkened, his gaze going inward as he said, "And then the letter came, informing me of Lucius's death, and when the author of the letter specified the exact date—the tenth day of that month named for Julius Caesar—and I realized it was the same day on which I had found the star-stone, I knew it was a sign from my brother. But I also realized that I had sent my brother to a death that should have been my own, and so I made a vow that day, on the sacred scallop shell, never to remove this bracelet, in memory of my brother."
"I'm sorry," Ulrika said. "That is a sad story." She suddenly sat up. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Ulrika listened. Beyond the cave's entrance, the forest stood in complete darkness, with not even moon glow to relieve the night. She turned and looked toward the back of the cave, also plunged in darkness. "We are not alone," she whispered. "Someone is in here."
Sebastianus shook his head. "It is impossible. There is no other entrance."
"There is someone at the back of the cave. I'm sure of it."
Wrapping a dried vine around the end of a stick to form a torch, Sebastianus rose and walked toward the back of the cave, Ulrika following. But the light illuminated only cold, stone walls and an earthen floor, with a ceiling so low they had to lower their heads. When they reached the end, they found no exit, no way for an intruder to get inside.
"You see?" Sebastianus said. "There is no one here."
"Look!" Ulrika whispered, pointing.
He turned and, lifting the torch, saw the rock wall suddenly spring to life. It was covered in vivid paintings, and as Sebastianus examined the figures rendered in bright reds and yellows and browns, he was able to identify bison, deer, wolves. There were also small figures of men carrying spears, chasing the animals, hunting them. All executed in a lifelike manner. Sebastianus had never seen anything like it.
"Someone is buried here," Ulrika murmured. "He was a holy man ... a long time ago."
Sebastianus turned to her and saw Ulrika's face cast in strange shadows. Her eyes were wide as they swept the darkness, as if searching for that ancient holy man, as if expecting to find him there, welcoming the two intruders.
"This is why we are safe in here," she added quietly. "This is why those men outside will not come in here. It is a holy place, and taboo for them to walk on this ground."
"How did you know?"
"I think—" she began. "Do you remember the old woman who told you in which direction I had gone? She took me into her hut for a while and she told me that I have a gift."
"What sort of gift?"
"I am visited by visions, dreams. I thought it was a sickness, but the old woman said it is a power given to me by the gods and that I am to use it to help others."
Sebastianus nodded. "My mother believed in such powers. She called it the Invisible Eye." He took in the loose tawny hair, trailing over one shoulder but still coiled on the other side, the smudges on her cheeks and chin, the tattered dress that spoke of disappointment and grief. And suddenly he was gripped with the impulse to take her into his arms and hold her, keep her safe, make love to her. "It is late. You need to sleep."
As he led the way back to the reassuring fire, they both tried to ignore the forest beyond the cave's entrance, an uncanny realm of ghosts and owls and Barbarian rebels awaiting the unsuspecting trespasser. Ulrika gave Sebastianus's cloak back to him, saying her own would be sufficient now that the fire had warmed the cave, and then she took a place by the amber flames, to lie down and curl up in her cloak.
Soon, troubling images filled her slumbering mind. The valley strewn with the victims of Roman treachery. Her father, cut down by an imperial sword. Did he fight to the very end? Did it take ten soldiers to finally bring the great Wulf to his knees? In her dream, Ulrika wept until she thought her heart would break.
And then she realized she was not sleeping by the fire anymore but had somehow made her way to the back of the cave, where she was alone beneath the stony vault ceiling.
In the next moment, sandaled feet stood before her. Ulrika pushed herself up and saw an old man looming over her, robed in a bear skin and carrying a spear. His hair and beard where white and long. He spoke. "I am the shaman of our tribe. We are Wolf Clan. I created these paintings eons ago. They tell the story of our people. Your people. You have forgotten who you are, your ancient names, your purpose and destiny. It is not for you, Ulrika of the Cherusci, to sit at a loom, recline on silken couches, and have slaves attend you. Ancient blood swims in your veins. Feel it. You know in your bones, you know in your sinew, who you are. You know, too, that the gods have singled you out for a special purpose. You have been given a great gift, which you must use for the good of humankind. But first you must return to the place of your beginning."
"My beginning," Ulrika whispered. "I do not know where that is."
"Your mother told you the story long ago. You have not forgotten. The name of the place sleeps in the deepest part of your soul. Think, Ulrika!"
She struggled with her thoughts. Yes, her mother had told her of her journey through Persia with Wulf. But there had been many place names—
"Go deep into that place you rarely venture, Ulrika, to that part of your soul which slumbers, a repository of precious memories. Your mother and father stopped to rest at a place called..."
"I remember," Ulrika said in wonder. "They stayed beside the Crystal Pools of Shalamandar."
"And that is where you must go ..."
The old man was bent and wizened, skin and bone, but as he stood before Ulrika against the backdrop of vividly painted bison and deer, the flesh began to grow on his limbs, muscles filled out beneath the shriveled skin, he grew tall. His hair turned from white to bronze, the fragile jaw filled in and grew a stubbled beard.
Sebastianus!
He wore only a loincloth. She saw the wound on his upper arm, which she had cleaned and bandaged, an injury to muscles that had wielded the heavy sword when he came to her rescue. He glistened with sweat.
What had he to do with this cave, with the shaman who slept here?
Sebastianus filled the stone chamber with his masculine power. Ulrika had never known a man so strong, so male. She became warm, feverish. She rose to her feet to stand before him, to face this powerful man.
He spoke in the voice of the ancient shaman: "You must not turn your back on the call from the gods. You are courageous, Ulrika. You will not deny your destiny."
"But I do not know how to find the Crystal Pools of Shalamandar. And it is such a long and hazardous journey."