The month of February is the month of festivities, the time when birds
find their mates and the Lupercal, the festival of the god of fertility. Yet
for me, this is the month when I have experienced the optimum happiness in my
life with a tinge of regret that I felt it when my days have become numbered.
Tonight, it is very cold and even my bones can feel the chill this
might. I don’t know what hour it is. But the little glimpse of sky that I view
from my barred window, it looks dark blue with a glow. Looks like it must be
three hours past midnight.
Not that I was a reader of the skies but judging from the months of
captivity and the hours when the watch changed in the tower, I think I have
become adept at it. But there is something very special about this day as it
might be the last one I might see. This day I go to face my death in the
gallows before the huge crowd gathered for the Lupercalia this week.
There are occasional shouts and celebrations that one can hear rising
from the streets. Just like every year, this year too many young men will prove
their valour in the competitions held before the emperor. The women will be
showered with the ceremonial blood from the sacrifice of animals before the god
of fertility near the caves of Romulus and Remus.
Then, there will be the choosing of one’s bride from the urn of good
fortune. Julia will also be chosen by some warrior or the other. Even the
thought makes me angry as it brings to my mind a very unpleasant memory of
having to tend for her for days on end and then having to leave her side on new
orders from the Emperor.
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