The Ghosts of Herak- Part 1

I had often heard my grandmother speak about ghosts and spirits that howled in the night, not just any other night but during Lemularia, where ghosts of the ancients came back to their old homes and want to return to the land of the living.
 
My sister Pandora and I loved to listen to the old tales but giggled about it after that. We found it absolutely funny to think of our old grandfather toddling back to life.
We lived with our  grandmother as our father a Roman Centurian had died gloriously in battle far away. He was the first batch of officers after the Marian reforms initiated by Gaius Marius. He had headed a batch of 100 land soldiers, but was beaten back by the barbarians at the border. We heard he died valiantly and gloriously.  Not that it was any consolation to our mother, Aelia.
 
She was a beautiful woman, who loved the Greek’s finer arts and way of life. That was why she named my younger sister Pandora, as she was fair and beautiful. I was stuck with the common name of Grace, as I was dark and sturdy. My mother thought I looked more like my father, while Pandora favoured her.
 
Anyway, my mother was heavy with child when she heard about my father’s death. She was not able to take this, and slowly sickened. She died during childbirth, calling my father’s name, as she breathed her last. Our tears were not enough to make her stay.
 
Our brother, whom we called Gaius, died soon after. So Pandora and I were packed off to live with our grandmother, also widowed by a war. We grew up with her, in a cottage, tending sheep and the wheat, barley, grapes and olives with our many uncles, aunts and cousins who lived around the farm.
 
Pandora and I were not supervised much by our grandmother, so we had freedom to run around the farm, helping or making a nuisance of ourselves.  
 
This was our life until one fine day, the Tiber overflowed and the farm was submerged. We escaped into higher ground and my family travelled far away into a piece of land away from the roads that crisscrossed Rome. It was a land where gigantic trees grew and lush grass carpeted the ground. It was strange to be away from the amenities of Rome and the older folks looked fearful.
 
Nevertheless, we started to ready the land for cultivation, as we were farmers and that was all we knew. It was a tough time for Pandora and I for we were used to the relatively relaxed lifestyle of the old rambling farm.  
 
One day, this world we created for ourselves, was turned upside down when spring turned to summer. We had forgotten Lemularia, and it came to us with a vengeance.  
 
That day, the night fell hard and heavy, the mists hung low, and the trees canopy seemed to knit together to hide the skies. Romulus’ had forgotten to appease Remus, and his minions came gleefully from beyond the portals to conquer the only place where the black beans were not strewn, for it was the custom to walk barefooted, and strew the beans over the shoulder chanting ‘Haec ego mitto; his redimo meque meosque fabis’ –   ‘These words I spake, I send these beans to redeem me and mine’.
 
My grandmother was ailing in bed, nigh to death as Pandora and I stared outside at the eerie light, neither night nor day. We shivered with fear and the cold that seemed to pervade the atmosphere.
 
To be continued…