The Chicken's Curse Read online

  Of course, it was hard to hear any of these things over the sound of the chicken’s sulky mutterings. For the sacred chicken complained endlessly.

  He complained when it rained.

  ‘My feet are wet.’

  He complained when the clouds parted briefly and the sun shone.

  ‘My feathers are steaming.’

  He complained when it was windy.

  ‘My giblets are rattling.’

  And most of all he complained about how hungry he was.

  As their stomachs rumbled, they talked about their favourite foods.

  Felix thought of the meals his mother had served up back in their cramped apartment in Rome. ‘Wheat porridge with mushrooms,’ he said. ‘Or maybe cabbage soup. Or …’ Come to think of it, they never seemed to eat anything but wheat porridge and cabbage soup.

  Livia said, ‘Dormice drizzled in honey and sprinkled with poppy seeds. And for dessert … a pear soufflé.’

  Dormice drizzled in honey? Felix couldn’t even imagine the world she came from. It was astonishing that he should find himself travelling with someone of Livia’s rank. ‘So, are you the daughter of a senator?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice short.

  ‘The daughter of a governor, then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The daughter of—’

  ‘Leave it, Felix,’ she snapped.

  Felix felt hurt. He didn’t see why she had to be so secretive.

  ‘What about you?’ Felix asked the sacred chicken. ‘What’s your favourite meal?’

  ‘Cake,’ said the chicken firmly.

  As they passed through a small hamlet – a scattering of houses with thatched roofs surrounded by vegetable plots – they debated stopping to ask for food.

  Felix pointed to a rustic cottage with a thatched roof set below the path in a dip between two hills. A broad, red-faced woman was weeding the garden by the side of the house. ‘She looks kind,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’ll help us.’

  They strode down the hill towards her.

  ‘Good morning,’ Felix said politely. ‘We’re very hungry and we wondered if you had some food?’

  ‘Why, yes,’ said the woman. ‘I do.’

  As Felix turned to smile at Livia, the woman reached out and grabbed the sacred chicken around the neck.

  ‘I have this chicken,’ she said.

  ‘What? But that’s our chicken!’ Felix exclaimed.

  ‘Not anymore, it’s not,’ said the woman. ‘I found it fair and square. And now I’m going to put it in my pot.’

  As she tightened her grip around its neck, the chicken began to gasp and cough.

  ‘Stop your cackling, you old boiler,’ the woman said, giving the chicken a shake.

  ‘You can’t talk to it like that,’ said Felix, aghast. ‘And you can’t eat it. It’s a sacred chicken.’

  ‘This? A sacred chicken? What do you take me for – a fool?’ With her free hand she cuffed Felix’s ear. ‘A country bumpkin, is that what you think?’ She delivered another mighty whack, which landed on Felix’s shoulder.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Look,’ said Livia impatiently, ‘this is our chicken and we want him back.’

  ‘If you want him that badly, I’ll sell him to you,’ said the woman craftily.

  ‘We don’t have any money,’ Felix said.

  ‘Oh, really?’

  The woman fixed her eyes on Livia. ‘What have you got in that basket, girly?’

  Livia glared at her. ‘Do not call me “girly”,’ she ordered.

  ‘Proud one, aren’t you? Well, let me put it this way: I’m putting this chicken in my pot unless you make it worth my while not to.’

  ‘Livia?’ Felix pleaded.

  Even the chicken gazed at her imploringly.

  ‘Very well,’ said Livia.

  She raised a corner of the cloth that covered her basket and rummaged inside. After several seconds, she produced a gold ring.

  The woman’s eyes glinted greedily as she reached for it.

  ‘Just a moment,’ said Livia, closing her hand around the jewel. ‘We’ll be wanting more than the chicken for this. We’ll need a loaf of bread and some cheese, too.’

  ‘And cake,’ added the chicken.

  ‘You should thank Livia for selling her ring to get you back,’ Felix said to the chicken.

  They had rounded a corner and were sitting on a large, flat rock by the side of the path, enjoying a hearty breakfast.

  ‘Big deal,’ said the chicken, which was pecking at a sticky honey cake. It looked up, its beak covered in crumbs. ‘She can afford to give away a ring – that basket is stuffed full of jewels.’

  Livia glared at it. ‘Have you been sticking your nosy beak into my basket?’

  ‘I was hungry,’ the chicken defended itself. ‘I thought you might have some cake hidden in there. Speaking of which, this cake is … bery bood … but bery shhticky.’ It seemed to be having trouble getting its beak open.

  ‘Maybe if you didn’t eat so fast,’ Felix suggested. He closed his eyes to savour the cheese. It was wonderful to eat a proper meal. Some sun on his face, food in his belly, friends by his side – he hadn’t felt this content since leaving Rome.

  Then a large hand seized him roughly by the arm and a voice boomed: ‘Got you!’

  Chapter 4

  The man who’d grabbed Felix’s arm dragged him to his feet. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

  The man was as big and beefy as a bull in a tunic, and his booming voice was familiar. It must be the men they’d heard when they were in the ditch, Felix realised. The men who were after him! He’d been lost in his happy reverie and hadn’t even heard them approach.

  ‘I … I …’ Felix quavered. If the man hadn’t held his arm in such a tight grip Felix would have fallen, he was trembling so violently.

  ‘Eh, girl?’

  Felix blinked. Girl?

  Then the other man spoke. ‘Hang on, it isn’t her. It’s a boy.’ This man was as slender as a reed with a high, reedy voice.

  The larger man dropped Felix’s arm, took a step backwards and examined him. ‘Well, it’s about the right height.’

  ‘Where’s the girl?’ the smaller man demanded.

  Felix looked around. Livia and her basket had vanished.

  ‘Wh-what girl?’ he stammered.

  ‘Who were you talking to just now? We heard you talking.’

  ‘M-my chicken. I was talking to my chicken. I-I’m taking it to market in Durocortorum.’ Felix’s voice came out as a squeak.

  ‘Just the one?’ boomed the large man.

  ‘My family is very poor.’

  ‘That explains why you’ve got such an ugly, scrawny chicken.’

  Mmmmmpppph. The chicken’s eyes were nearly popping out of its head as it struggled to open its beak, which was still stuck shut from the honey.

  ‘Enough about the chicken,’ the reedy man broke in. ‘You seen a girl about this high?’ He held his hand up level with the top of Felix’s head.

  ‘N-no.’

  ‘Well, if you do, you should seize her,’ Beefy advised. ‘She’s a runaway. The governor of Nemetacum wants her back.’ He sat down on the rock and stretched out his legs in front of him. ‘And he’s promised us a big reward if we find her,’ he continued as he helped himself to Felix’s bread and cheese.

  Taking a seat beside him, Reedy took a knife from his belt and sliced off a piece of the honey cake, seemingly unaware of the chicken’s frantically flapped objections.

  ‘We’ve been up and down that road from Durocortorum to Nemetacum and there’s been no sign of her. That’s why we decided to try this path. But …’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘It’s like she’s vanished.’

  It seemed she was good at vanishing. Felix collapsed onto the rock beside the beefy man. Wait. It was Livia they were after? Not him? His mind reeled.

  When the governor’s men had finished all the food, they stood up and brushed the crumbs from
their tunics.

  ‘If you see her, don’t even think about helping her,’ Reedy warned. ‘The governor will take it very badly.’

  ‘Good luck selling that chicken,’ Beefy added. ‘You’ll need it.’

  They set off down the path as Felix, still stunned by the men’s revelations, stayed sitting on the rock, which was now surrounded by the crumbled remains of the meal he had so recently been enjoying.

  It was Livia they’d been after all along. It explained why she’d been so quick to jump into that ditch when he’d heard the men’s horses. But what would make her run away from her luxurious life in the governor’s mansion to sit in muddy ditches and trudge through damp forests? ‘And why didn’t she tell me the truth?’ he asked aloud.

  There was a whisper from behind him. ‘Are they gone?’

  ‘Livia?!’ Felix looked around. He couldn’t see anyone.

  ‘Down here. Help me up.’

  Peering over the edge of the rock, he could make out Livia crouched in the bushes in a hollow.

  He extended his hand and helped to heave her back onto the rock.

  ‘I knew it,’ Felix said when she was sitting beside him, panting from the effort of the climb. ‘You’re the governor’s daughter, aren’t you?’

  She shook her head. Her lips were sealed as tight as if they’d been glued shut by honey cake.

  ‘I told you the truth,’ Felix said to Livia. ‘I told you I deserted from the army. I can’t believe you don’t trust me.’

  ‘I do trust you,’ said Livia. ‘It’s just … it’s better for you if you don’t know the whole story.’

  ‘The whole story? What story?’

  She tightened her lips once more and refused to speak. And seeing that she appeared anxious and frightened and not at all haughty, Felix relented.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, standing up. ‘Durocortorum can’t be far.’

  As they drew closer to Durocortorum, they made plans. They would need to leave the town as soon as possible now that they knew Beefy and Reedy were patrolling the road. Livia would exchange some of the jewels in her basket for their passage in a carriage.

  By the time the path through the forest rejoined the road, they were only a couple of miles from their destination. As they were near the town, there were more people on the road: some on foot and carrying baskets, bound for the market; others driving carts piled high with produce. Livia wore the hood of her cloak over her head so that her face was in shadow.

  Finally, they reached a bridge over a river. On the far side was the entrance to the town, guards standing by the gate.

  ‘We made it!’ said Felix as he stepped onto the bridge. He felt jubilant. Once they were in the carriage, none of them would have to worry about being pursued anymore. They’d be free!

  ‘This is Rome?’ said the chicken, looking around. ‘I thought it would be much more impressive.’

  ‘It’s not Rome. It’s Durocortorum.’ Honestly, Felix thought, doesn’t the chicken ever listen? He turned to exchange a look with Livia, but she was no longer beside him.

  She had stopped walking and had tilted her head back to watch a crow swooping past her left side from the top of the town walls. The hood of her cloak had slid down to her shoulders.

  ‘Livia,’ he called, ‘come on.’ Surely she knew that to see a crow on your left side was a bad omen. Suddenly, he had an uneasy feeling. ‘Livia!’ he called again.

  Just as she twisted in the direction of his voice, a second voice rose behind them, high and thin. ‘There she is!’

  Felix spun around.

  Clattering down the road towards the bridge was a chariot drawn by a single horse. Beefy held the reins. Beside him, Reedy was pointing at Livia, who stood frozen.

  ‘Quick!’ Felix urged. ‘It’s the governor’s men.’

  Spurred into action, Livia began to run.

  Reedy called in his high voice, ‘Stop her! Guards – seize that girl!’

  The soldiers guarding the gate raised their spears and advanced.

  ‘This way, Livia,’ yelled Felix, quickening his pace. His mind, too, was racing. A girl was herding some geese across the bridge, followed by a trio of chattering women with baskets full of onions and turnips. Perhaps Felix and Livia could mingle among them, so the soldiers didn’t know who it was they were meant to be stopping.

  He looked over his shoulder to see the chariot overtake Livia and swerve into her path. Reedy leaped nimbly off the back and moved behind her to block the possibility of retreat.

  ‘Livia!’ Felix attempted to run back the way he had come, only to trip over the chicken.

  ‘Thought you’d got away, didn’t you?’ crowed Reedy.

  ‘Please,’ begged Livia in a voice quite unlike her usual haughty tone. ‘Don’t take me back there.’

  ‘Quiet,’ thundered Beefy.

  Felix, sprawled on the ground, watched in shock as the governor’s men grabbed Livia roughly and tied her wrists behind her back. When she opened her mouth to scream, Reedy stuffed a gag in it.

  As Felix scrambled to his feet, Beefy half dragged, half carried her to the chariot and shoved her in, then he and Reedy climbed up after her.

  With a flick of the reins, Beefy turned the horse about. As the chariot wheeled around, Felix caught a glimpse of Livia’s face gazing at him from where she was slumped on the floor by the men’s feet. Her eyes were wide with terror.

  Felix stood on the bridge for a long time, watching as the chariot grew smaller in the distance. He kept watching until it was no longer in sight.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ said the chicken.

  Felix realised he was too: hungry and hopeless. He had no money, no food, no transport. All he had was a sacred chicken, and that didn’t seem to be bringing him much good fortune. He’d had no plan for getting to Rome when he ran away, but that hadn’t seemed to matter when he was with Livia. She had seemed so brave and determined that it had made Felix feel confident too.

  But she was on her way back to the governor’s mansion. It was just him and the chicken now. His most immediate concern, he decided, was their next meal. It would be easier to work out how to get to Rome if he wasn’t so hungry.

  He walked through the town gates unchallenged, and found himself on a busy street lined with two-storey buildings. The shops on the ground floor were selling everything from shoes made of leather to copper cooking pots. He passed a baker’s stall set out under the cover of an overhanging balcony and looked longingly at the loaves stacked neatly on a wooden bench. Reaching a crossroads, he saw a tavern on the nearest corner. Above the door was a sign painted with a golden cockerel. ‘That has to be a good omen,’ he said to the chicken. He stepped inside only to be shooed out immediately by a woman wielding a broom.

  ‘I’m looking for work,’ Felix said politely. ‘I’d be happy to do the sweeping for you. I just need a few coins.’

  The woman brayed a laugh. ‘I couldn’t have you in here; you’d scare away the customers. You look like a beastie. Though I don’t know how many beasties travel with a chicken.’

  That was a bit rude, Felix thought. Clearly the woman didn’t like redheaded boys.

  Felix headed down a narrow alley away from the bustle. Perhaps in a quiet, out-of-the-way tavern they would be more inclined to help redheaded runaways with chickens.

  But the alleyway didn’t produce any such taverns, only a few quiet, out-of-the-way houses with blank white walls and small windows. At the end of the alley was a square with a water trough in its centre. Walking over to it, he gazed at his reflection in the water’s surface. The boy staring back was so covered in mud and leaves and chicken feathers he was barely recognisable as Felix. He was extremely dusty and dirty, and there was no sign of his red hair.

  Felix had to admit the broom-wielding woman had a point. ‘I do look a bit like a beastie,’ he conceded as he took off his cloak and shook it out, then sluiced icy water over his head and scrubbed at spots on his tunic.

  ‘You could wash too,’ he
told the chicken.

  The chicken gave itself a shake but declined Felix’s offer to dunk it in the trough. ‘There’s no need. My natural beauty will always shine through.’

  When Felix was clean – or cleaner, at any rate – he walked back down the alley to the main street and continued on into the heart of the town, grateful that it wasn’t raining and there was a chance the weak sun might dry his still-damp clothes.

  After a few minutes he entered a market square. Although the stalls had long since been packed up, the chicken found a scattering of grain to peck at, complaining the whole time. Felix’s own supper was two limp carrots that had clearly been considered rubbish.

  The sun was setting, and rather than risk being found by the nightwatchmen, who might be on the alert for a boy and/or sacred chicken who’d deserted the army, they left the town before curfew. It had started to rain again, and they found shelter under the same bridge they had walked across with Livia only a couple of hours before. Where was she now? Felix wondered. Would her father punish her for running away, or would he be so relieved to see her home that he’d order a huge banquet in her honour, with … what else did rich people eat besides baked dormice and roast peacock? Nightingale tongues? Boiled flamingo?

  He rubbed his empty stomach ruefully. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would make a plan to get himself and the chicken a good meal and passage to Rome. And he would try to forget Livia’s scared eyes …

  Chapter 5

  Felix spent the morning in and around Durocortorum, trying to make some money. He earned a few coins shovelling manure in the stables of an inn. He earned another holding a horse for a well-dressed man while he heeded the call of nature. He earned a whole handful when he helped unload some amphorae of wine from a boat that had come by river from Lutetia. After the jars had been arranged in the back of the cart, he rode with the delivery driver to help unload the wine at a tavern just outside town. Felix recognised it as one they had walked past the day before.