The Chicken's Curse Read online

  ‘Then how can you deliver it?’

  ‘I’ve memorised it.’

  ‘Is that right,’ said the girl. It didn’t sound like a question.

  There was a moment’s silence, then she barked: ‘What did you have for dinner two nights ago?’

  ‘T-two nights ago?’ Felix stammered. ‘I-I don’t know. I can’t remember.’

  ‘I knew it.’ The girl sounded smug. ‘No one would trust you to memorise a secret message. I bet you can’t even remember your own name.’

  ‘Of course I can,’ said Felix, stung. ‘It’s Felix.’

  ‘And you’re not really a messenger, are you, Felix?’

  ‘No,’ he confessed with a sigh. ‘I’m running away.’

  ‘I never would have guessed,’ said the girl, though it was apparent she had.

  ‘I’m General Porcius’s servant. I’m on my way home to Rome so that I don’t get turned into a slave by the Nervians. Tomorrow’s battle has been cursed.’ Felix pointed at the chicken. ‘By you.’

  The girl turned her gaze to the chicken. ‘What’s your story?’ she asked.

  ‘I told you: I’m a sacred chicken,’ the chicken said. It sounded as haughty as the girl.

  ‘Why did you curse the battle?’

  ‘I don’t know about the others, but I just didn’t feel like grain.’ The chicken tossed its head so that its wattles shook. ‘I can’t help it if I’m a picky eater.’

  ‘So what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m running away too. I’m going to Rome, where the sacred chickens are fed on cake. I like cake.’

  ‘You’re going all the way to Rome on your own?’

  ‘Why not?’ said the chicken.

  ‘Aren’t you scared of foxes?’

  ‘No,’ said the chicken defiantly, but Felix thought he detected a tremor in its comb.

  ‘You’ll never make it to Rome on your own either,’ the girl said to Felix. ‘Think about it: wolves, bandits, Nervians. And what about when the general finds out you’re gone? He’ll probably send someone after you.’

  Felix knew the girl was right. He’d been foolish and impulsive. There was no way he was going to get away with this. He should go back to camp. Perhaps if he told the sentries he’d been sleepwalking …

  ‘It’s your lucky day,’ the girl announced.

  That seemed unlikely, thought Felix.

  ‘I’m going to Rome, too. The general’s men will be looking for a boy travelling alone, so I’ll let you travel with me.’

  ‘What about me?’ said the chicken. ‘You can’t leave me here.’

  ‘Why not?’ said the girl.

  ‘I’m a sacred chicken. If you abandon me to the foxes, you’ll be cursed.’

  The girl looked at Felix.

  ‘The chicken’s right,’ Felix said. ‘We can’t leave it.’

  The girl sighed. ‘Fine. We’ll all go.’

  They began to wind their way between the trees in single file, following what might have been a path, or a track used by animals, or just the random whim of the girl, who was in the lead.

  ‘So why are you travelling alone?’ Felix asked her. Someone of noble birth should be safe in a carriage, attended by servants or slaves, not wandering through the forest in the middle of the night.

  ‘I’m not travelling alone,’ she replied. ‘I’m travelling with you and the chicken.’ Felix could tell by her voice that she was rolling her eyes.

  They walked in silence for a while, Felix glancing over his shoulder every now and then to check if they were being followed. A faint lightening of the sky above the forest’s canopy suggested the approach of dawn. It was only a matter of time before General Porcius noticed he was missing.

  As the first tendrils of sunlight crept between the leaves, the track they’d been following met up with a path.

  The girl hesitated, looking from left to right. ‘Which way, do you think?’ she asked, turning to Felix.

  The light was coming from behind them, so they must be facing west, Felix reasoned. That meant left was south and right was north. Rome, he knew, was south.

  ‘Left,’ he said. And then, recalling the route the army had taken all those wet, soggy months ago, he said, ‘We should reach a road to Durocortorum.’

  ‘Is that a kind of cake?’ asked the chicken.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I know Durocortorum,’ the girl said. ‘It’s a big town. We can try to get seats in a fast carriage heading in the direction of Rome. That will be far quicker than walking.’

  The path was wider than the track had been, and Felix and the girl were able to walk side by side. Now they’d be able to talk properly.

  ‘The sooner we get to Rome the better,’ Felix began. ‘My mother will be pleased to see me. She’ll probably tell me I shouldn’t have deserted, but I’m sure she’ll understand when I explain it. And I’ve got two sisters – they’ll be pleased to see me too.’ Actually, he wasn’t so sure of this. His sisters sometimes talked to him as if he were a fool and at other times refused to talk to him at all. They were a lot like this girl, in fact.

  ‘Do you have a brother?’ he asked her.

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘Do you live in Rome?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Do you have a name?’ he asked.

  The girl hesitated, as if reluctant to reveal confidential information.

  ‘Livia,’ she said finally.

  They had been walking for several hours, up and down what seemed like an endless series of hills, when the path emerged from the forest. Felix blinked. It had been hard to tell what time it was in the forest, as only a meagre amount of light had penetrated the thick canopy, but now he saw that the sun was quite high in the sky. At least, Felix presumed it was the sun. Something was glowing beneath the cover of grey.

  Looking behind them, Felix saw the road curving out of sight behind a hill. The section before them was long and flat, the flagstones glinting here and there where water had pooled in the crevices. On either side were fields, separated from the road by ditches.

  While the trees had felt oppressive, a haven for bandits, now that they’d left the forest behind he felt exposed. They’d have nowhere to hide if they were pursued.

  The chicken didn’t seem at all concerned to be out in the open.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ it complained. ‘What have you got to eat?’

  ‘Didn’t you bring anything with you?’ Livia asked.

  ‘In what? My basket?’ The chicken stared pointedly at the basket Livia was carrying. ‘I presume you have some food in there.’

  ‘Why should I share it with you?’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to,’ said the chicken. ‘Though denying food to a sacred chicken isn’t going to bring you good fortune for your journey, is it?’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Felix.

  Livia sighed. ‘I suppose I could give you some bread.’

  ‘That’ll have to do,’ the chicken grumbled.

  ‘Listen!’ Felix broke in. ‘I think I hear something behind us.’

  They all turned around.

  No one was visible, but the clatter of hooves on stone was unmistakable.

  ‘Into the ditch!’ Livia ordered. ‘Quick!’

  ‘My feathers will get wet!’ the chicken protested.

  As he dived into the ditch, Felix scooped up the sacred chicken in one arm.

  They crouched in the muddy trench as the hooves drew closer and closer. Had the riders seen them? Felix felt water seeping through his clothes, yet he didn’t dare move.

  As the thunder of hooves sounded right above their heads, he heard snatches of conversation.

  ‘—ran off last night—’ a voice boomed.

  ‘—can’t have got very far on foot—’ came a shrill reply.

  They were talking about him!

  His body tensed, causing him to squeeze the chicken, which pecked his armpit viciously.

  Suppressing a yelp, he relaxed his grip. The chicken promptly wr
iggled free.

  Squawk!

  ‘Shhhh!’ Felix and Livia hissed in unison.

  Squawk!

  Felix held his breath, praying to Jupiter that the men hadn’t heard. But the hooves thundered by, and gradually faded.

  When his heart had ceased thundering too, Felix burst out: ‘Did you hear what those men said? They were looking for me!’

  ‘No,’ the chicken corrected him. ‘They were looking for me.’

  Livia said nothing, though as they clambered from the ditch, she appeared strangely subdued. Her brow was furrowed and she gnawed her bottom lip while staring down the road after the riders.

  As he wrung out his cloak Felix was struck by a thought. ‘You didn’t need to jump in the ditch, Livia. The men weren’t after you.’

  Livia turned her gaze away from the road to look at him. ‘I decided it would be safer to hide. What if they asked me if I’d seen you and I accidentally gave you away?’

  Watching as she brushed the mud from her fine cloak, Felix felt touched by her concern. Despite her aloof manner, she cared about what happened to him.

  Yet while she had done her best to protect him, the chicken hadn’t, he recalled. He frowned at the chicken. ‘Why did you squawk like that?’ he demanded. ‘They might have heard you.’

  The sacred chicken shrugged. ‘I can’t help it. I’m a chicken. Squawking’s what we do.’

  They carried on down the road, but more cautiously now. Every flicker of a shadow seemed like a warning, and the sound of a pebble clattering across the flagstones like approaching hooves.

  The chicken strutted along ahead of them, the plume of its tail feathers held aloft proudly, red comb rippling in the breeze. It was clearly feeling none of their anxiety. Livia whispered to Felix, ‘I think we should dump the chicken. It’s going to get us caught.’

  ‘We can’t dump it,’ Felix whispered back. ‘We’d be cursed.’

  ‘But it’s run away,’ Livia argued. ‘So it’s actually a bad sacred chicken.’

  ‘I heard that!’ the chicken yelled.

  ‘She didn’t mean it,’ Felix said quickly.

  ‘Yes I did,’ snapped Livia.

  As he tried to soothe the chicken on one hand and appease Livia on the other, Felix felt a wave of weariness wash over him. They’d been travelling together for only a few hours and he was already worn out from trying to keep the peace between the noble girl and the sacred chicken.

  Not to mention trying to evade the men who were pursuing him …

  Chapter 3

  ‘We need to get off this road,’ Felix said, glancing over his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been raining on and off for hours and their cloaks and feathers were sodden, but Felix was so preoccupied by his fear of patrols and pursuers he hardly noticed.

  ‘We have to get to Durocortorum,’ Livia reminded him. ‘And this is the road that will take us there.’

  When, towards the end of the afternoon, they met a traveller coming in the opposite direction, Felix hailed him. ‘Excuse me,’ Felix said, ‘do you know of another way to Durocortorum? We’re taking our chicken to market and, um, the hard flagstones are giving it sore feet.’

  The man didn’t even blink at this wild invention. ‘No wonder,’ he said, observing the muddy, dishevelled chicken. ‘It’s so scrawny. Hardly worth putting in a pot. Good luck trying to sell that!’

  When the chicken looked like it was about to protest, Livia flung her cloak over it. ‘Oops,’ she said. ‘I dropped my cloak.’

  ‘Just past the next milestone there’s a shortcut through the forest to Durocortorum,’ the traveller told them. ‘Look for the blasted oak on your right – there’s a path beside it.’

  When the man set off down the road, Livia retrieved her cloak.

  The sacred chicken shook itself angrily in a flurry of wet feathers.

  ‘Sell me at the market? As if I was some kind of common barnyard animal? I’ll have you know I lived in the finest coop in the legion. The wire was all spun from gold and I had a drinking trough made from marble.’

  Felix suspected the chicken must be exaggerating. He’d never seen anything like that around the camp.

  ‘You have never seen such splendour in your life,’ the chicken finished.

  Livia was unimpressed. ‘I’ll have you know I happened to live in a very grand—’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘What?’ said Felix. ‘A very grand what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He knew it! She was probably from one of Rome’s finest families, with a large house on the Esquiline Hill. While Felix, his mother and sisters were crammed into a single room on the fourth floor of a crowded apartment building in Subura, Livia no doubt had a huge atrium and a dining room decorated with mosaics, and slaves serving her honeyed figs while she reclined on a couch in the garden.

  ‘A grand house? A grand villa? A grand mansion?’ Felix pressed.

  In response, Livia took a large handkerchief from her basket and blew her nose loudly.

  ‘I suppose you bathe in rosewater and scent the soles of your feet with jasmine perfume.’

  Shaking her head, Livia tucked the handkerchief back into her basket.

  ‘I suppose you dine on roast peacock every night.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Livia, though her lips twitched.

  ‘I suppose you ride to banquets on an elephant,’ Felix continued.

  ‘Hmph,’ she said, as if he was being too silly for words, but he thought he caught a fleeting smile and, despite the heavy grey clouds pressing down on them, his heart immediately felt lighter.

  The lightening of mood was soon dampened by the drizzle.

  ‘This is outrageous,’ the sacred chicken declared. ‘My comb is waterlogged. The gods will not smile on you for subjecting a sacred chicken to such torment.’

  ‘You should have stayed in your golden coop then, shouldn’t you?’ Livia retorted.

  ‘What’s that in the sky?’ Felix jumped in to stop another round of bickering.

  Luckily, his ploy worked, as both Livia and the chicken looked up.

  And to Felix’s relief there was something to see in the sky.

  ‘It looks like a bird of prey,’ said Livia.

  ‘I think it’s an eagle,’ said Felix.

  ‘It’s probably a chicken,’ said the sacred chicken. ‘It can be hard to tell chickens and eagles apart when they’re in flight.’

  Felix couldn’t help it; he began to laugh.

  ‘What?’ said the chicken crossly as Livia gave Felix a quizzical look.

  ‘Imagine the standard bearers,’ Felix said to Livia.

  He marched ahead of her along the path holding an imaginary pole. ‘See the mighty Roman legions marching into battle with their silver chickens aloft.’

  Livia giggled.

  ‘Marching under the symbol of the majestic chicken of Rome!’

  Livia giggled some more.

  Felix pointed. ‘Up there! In the sky! It’s a vicious chicken about to attack!’

  By now Livia was laughing so hard she’d had to stop walking.

  The sacred chicken looked most put out.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Felix, ashamed for making fun of it.

  ‘I’m not talking to you,’ said the chicken.

  Livia had stuffed her cloak into her mouth to muffle her laughter, but her shoulders were shaking.

  ‘Go on, laugh away,’ the chicken said bitterly. ‘I know you don’t care about me at all. Dump the sacred chicken, you said. Leave the sacred chicken to die, you said.’

  ‘I don’t think she said we should leave you to die,’ Felix objected.

  But the chicken ignored him. ‘I’ll see if I can find a fox to do the job for you, shall I?’ And it stormed off into the forest.

  ‘Wait!’ said Felix, alarmed. ‘Come back!’ He rushed after it.

  Muttering to itself, the chicken allowed Felix to usher it back to the path.

  ‘Livia, please.’ Felix gave her
a stern look. ‘I think you owe the sacred chicken an apology.’

  Livia looked at the chicken and then back at Felix. ‘You seriously believe it can curse us?’

  Felix thought of General Porcius. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I really do.’

  ‘If it means that much to you …’ She turned to the chicken. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Your apology is accepted,’ the chicken said graciously.

  The grey sky had turned a bruised purple by the time they reached the milestone, and it was so dark by the time they saw the blasted oak that they almost missed the turn-off into the forest.

  ‘Perhaps we should stop here for the night,’ Felix suggested hesitantly, reluctant to venture into the black forest, and to his relief the others agreed.

  Livia surveyed the patch of grass and shrubs between the road and the forest. ‘We’ll need to find some kind of cover from the drizzle,’ she declared.

  Felix tramped through the tall, wet grass until he found a shrub that seemed to provide a little more shelter than the others. ‘Over here,’ he called. ‘This one’s only a little damp.’

  ‘Why would I want to sleep in that damp shrub when it’s perfectly dry here in the hollow of this tree?’ the chicken called back.

  ‘You found shelter?’ said Felix. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I thought you must have wanted to sleep in a damp shrub, you were going to so much trouble.’

  It was a bit of a tight squeeze by the time they were all settled in the hollow, but at least it was warm, and they were well hidden from the road. For the first time since he’d fled the camp, Felix started to relax.

  Felix was woken at dawn by the ear-splitting squawking of the chicken.

  ‘Stop it!’ he cried.

  ‘I’m a chicken,’ the chicken reminded him. ‘It’s what we do in the morning.’ It walked over to Livia’s basket and stuck its beak in. ‘How about some bread?’

  Grumbling sleepily, Livia brushed it away. ‘I don’t have any more,’ she said.

  After an unsatisfying breakfast of wild mushrooms foraged from among the pine needles near a stand of trees, they set off along the path leading into the forest. Dark, shadowy pines mingled with the pale trunks of birch and fresh green beech. It would have been almost lovely, Felix thought, if only the patter of rain on the ferns didn’t sound quite so much like the footsteps of a patrol creeping through the undergrowth; if only the whistle of wind through the leaves didn’t sound like the whistle of a Roman soldier who’d spotted the general’s runaway servant.