Cassia

Seven - Four Days Later

Cassia knocked on the door of the small house. The door opened, and a young woman met her. “Yes?”

“I am Cassia.”

“I’m Bart’s friend, Debbie. Come in.”

Cassia walked into the house. It seemed strange that the house could have been made of dirt, or as they called it, “sod,” and after two years it was still standing. Even after Bart had explained the process of building a sod house, she still wondered if some sort of magic kept it from falling in or washing away.

The next thing that struck her about the house was how small it was. With only two rooms, it was roughly the size of the home a struggling farmer would have. It amazed her that anyone could live here, much less one of the leaders of a Freeman’s Hold raiding group. It amazed her even more that her residence was more spacious than this one.

She shook her head. “Odd that my apartment is larger than this,” she said. She looked at Debbie. “If I have offended you, I am sorry.”

The other young woman smiled. “No.” She let out a laugh.

“What?”

“That was, I think, one of the first things Bart said about our house when he first came here.” Debbie waved at the table in the main room. “Please, sit down.”

Cassia looked at the other woman while she sat down across from her. She was a few hand’s breaths taller than Cassia and about Bart’s age. She clearly had a shapely figure, but was dressed modestly. Her light brown hair was neatly combed, and her light brown eyes sparkled. She wore only two pieces of jewelry: a silver band on her right ring finger; and a silver lower-case ‘t’ on a chain around her neck.

Cassia touched her translator. “How is your Latin? Or should I keep this on?”

“I have to concentrate to speak Latin. How is your English?”

“Very modest, but improving. I shall keep this on.”

“Fine. Bart told me about you, what you were, what happened to you, and why you’re here. I take it you were continuing your interviews this morning.”

Cassia folded her hands in her lap. “Yes.”

“How have they been going?”

“Well enough.”

“Have you told any of the girls about yourself? Told them your experience?”

“I did not mention it if I was not asked. I told my story perhaps half a dozen times yesterday, and a few times today.”

“And?”

Cassia let out a breath. “There seems to be very little sympathy for me. Even when I tell what Varus did to me, the other women have not been understanding. Two said I received what I deserved.” She glanced at the floor.

“Do you understand why they might say that?”

“Yes. I was warned.”

Debbie nodded. “What you’ve just gone through, Cassia, is equal to an idea we have back home. The idea is that it’s one thing to know something intellectually, say, to read an account of a battle. It’s something different to experience that thing. You knew that you might not get any sympathy, but knowing and experiencing aren’t the same.”

“No, they are not.” She looked directly at Debbie. “Bart said this would help me to recover. Yet I do not feel better. Was he wrong?”

“No, not at all.” She smiled slightly. “I think I see another reason why Bart wanted me to talk to you.”