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I grabbed her work-toughened hands. “I can’t believe my good fortune.”

She nodded toward the statue. “Maybe your fortune had a little help.”

“Can you tell me about her?” I let go of her hands reluctantly and settled back on the bench.

“We met at the Schola, like many girls do, and we apprenticed together at Casa Caligine. We were inseparable.” She smiled at the memory. “The two of us were in trouble all the time, wandering around, never where we were supposed to be.”

I pictured them moving through the rooms and corridors that were so familiar to me. “I must have inherited that from her. I’m like that too.”

Hortensia brushed a loose gray hair away from her face. “About a year after our bidding season, Antonia was noticed by a member of the Imperator’s household who had come to select courtesans to send back to the palace at Panpirion. At that time, two or three women were sent each year to entertain the Imperator.”

“Women are still sent to the Imperator’s court,” I said. “Was she sent there?”

She shook her head in disgust. “No. The scout wanted her for himself. A few weeks after he left, she learned that she was expecting. She was completely distraught. Nearly out of her mind.” She sighed and shifted on the bench. “I heard very little from her during her confinement. When she returned to Casa Caligine, she had changed. She didn’t want to let you go, but she had no choice, and you were placed in a nursery. She became deeply depressed. Each day was a struggle. And then one day she was gone.”

“Did she come here? Where is she now?”

“I know that she passed through this place. I learned that the year after, when I fled here myself. I heard that she stayed briefly and then continued east, but to what fate, I don’t know. She was a beautiful, restless spirit. I hope she found peace somewhere.”

I sat on the bench, lost in a swirl of thoughts and emotions. It was like trying to grab onto smoke. “What was she like, Hortensia? What kind of person was she?”

“Bright and funny. Curious. A good friend. Caring, but she never took anything too seriously. Except for her pregnancy with you. That changed her, as I’ve said.”

Tears filled my eyes. “Thank you for telling me this. It means so much to me. I’ve spent my whole life wondering. My only clue came from Flavia, the old laundress at Casa Caligine, who told me that her name was Antonia. Even that little bit of knowledge, I’ve clung to for months.”

“Flavia must suspect that Antonia fled here,” Hortensia said with a shake of her head. “She’s a link in the chain of knowledge that leads women to this refuge.”

“But she didn’t tell me?”

She shrugged. “This secret has been kept for centuries because of discretion from women like Flavia.”

For the second time that day I pulled the little Goddess figurine out of my satchel. “My mother wrapped this in my swaddling garments. It is the only thing I’ve ever had of hers. Portia says it carries a blessing, and it would have been a great sacrifice for my mother to give it up.”

Hortensia turned the statue over in her callused hands. “I remember this. It was given to Antonia by her own mother, your grandmother, when she entered the training school. She considered it very precious, and yet, it doesn’t surprise me to learn that she left it for you.”

“Why? How did she know I would need it?”

Hortensia closed her eyes and smiled. “Perhaps a way out was her gift to you.”

WE TALKED UNTIL the early afternoon. The sun rose high in the sky, and although it was bright, the wind had picked up again.

“I need to get back,” I said. “It was wonderful to meet you. This conversation has been more than I could have hoped for.”

“And it’s been the joy of my life to learn what became of Antonia’s daughter. She would be so proud of your strength and beauty. You really won’t consider staying?”

But I had already made up my mind. “I can’t. I have something else I must do.”

We walked together back to the bustling farmhouse kitchen, where we hugged goodbye. I said farewell to the other women also, and to Ismene, whose worried face had already relaxed in the few hours she had been there.

Portia led me back through the dense forest until we reached the footpath near the village, pretending not to notice my wet cheeks. Once we parted ways, I walked slowly along in the cold afternoon, crying all the way until I arrived at the town square.

THE INN WAS quiet. The fire in the common room’s hearth had burned down, and a chill had settled on the room. Pollux would surely be frustrated that I had delayed our departure yet again, and I needed a minute to compose myself before I faced him. I had hoped for a warm mug of cider, but the innkeeper was not in his usual spot behind the counter. A cup and a rag sat abandoned on its surface. As I waited for him to return, I pulled my chair close to the embers and thought about all I had seen and heard at the sanctuary. My mother had passed through that very place. Where did her footsteps lead?

After a few moments, I heard a door open. The innkeeper emerged from the kitchen carrying a crate of empty jugs and hesitated when he saw me, a startled expression on his face.

“Hello,” I said. “Could I have a mug of hot cider brought upstairs to my room?”

He put down the crate of jugs with a clatter and clasped his hands across his broad girth. “You don’t have a room anymore. The man you’re traveling with told me you had already gone. He left himself just after midday.”