Hadrian's wall

XXII

I would like to be surprised by this tale, but I'm not. I have made too many reports about the things people do or say in the heat of passion. "He seems injudicious," I observe mildly to Marta.

"He'd exercised so much power over base women that he mistook his opportunity with Valeria. Or was so frustrated that he was willing to take a risk."

"You thought him foolhardy?"

"Men should know their station."

Of course! It's interesting that slaves are more conscious of proper station than any of us. I wonder if any of this disaster would have occurred if all involved had simply accepted the duty and conformity that sustains the empire.

"Still, quite risky in the commander's house."

"He still thought of it as his house, inspector. And he was reckless from envy. This issue of command was eating at him. He also knew she'd never breathe a word of this to Marcus; he'd calculated in advance that her embarrassment would be greater than his own. But he also knew he was finished with her and finished with her husband. He'd gambled, and lost. He'd let his shield drop and been stabbed to the heart."

"And went to you."

"He was a stag in heat, and I his substitute."

"You endured it."

"I enjoyed it."

I shift uncomfortably, never quite accustomed to the bluntness of slaves. "Did they see each other again before Marcus came back?"

"Of course. Petrianis is a cramped place."

"How did she react?"

"She was cool, but not as outraged as she pretended. His advance repelled but fascinated her, I could tell. Not that she welcomed it, but she couldn't help but be flattered. Curious. I know she heard us crying out as we coupled. Galba was a man of passions her husband didn't have. He was a stag, and she was like a fly to a spider. He sensed this, and it tormented him. Tormented her. We laughed at both of them. With my class, these things are much simpler."

She wants me to envy her, and I do, in a way. "Nothing else happened?"

"Galba let it quietly be known that he'd solved the murder of the slave Odo."

"What evidence did he have?"

"He wouldn't say. Not yet, anyway."

I dimly begin to see it now. "And then Marcus came back."

"Bloody and sated and full of his own righteousness, hardly seeing anyone else around him. Valeria and Galba pretended nothing had happened, of course, but Marcus was strutting too much like a rooster to notice anyway. That fool Clodius was even worse, having stolen a tribesman's neck torque to cover his scar and pretending to be the new Achilles. These were men who'd played at war and loved it. They'd seen the fires of the spring festival of Beltane before their raid, assumed they were some kind of tribal war signal, and credited themselves when the fires went out! It's no wonder they lit a real fire."

"Did Clodius come around to visit Valeria?"

"Yes. She put him off for a time out of confusion and embarrassment, but they were nearly the same age, and friends. He could sense her desire."

"Were they lovers too?" Any question seems within bounds with this Marta.

"I don't think so. They liked the tension more than the release. Flirting more than fucking." The slave shrugs, the ways of her betters incomprehensible to her.

"And what happened then?"

"Real trouble started. Marcus had committed a sacrilege by burning that grove. It was just what Celtic leaders wanted. The Petriana had a patrol chased. A sentry was shot through by an arrow under a full moon. There were reports of brigands slipping through the Wall. The praefectus hadn't cowed the tribes, he'd aroused them. The duke called him to Eburacum to give account. And that's when Galba threatened to arrest Clodius."

"He what?"

She smiles and nods, enjoying being able to surprise me with the miscalculations that humans can make. Except, what if it was no miscalculation?

"With Marcus at Eburacum, Galba was once more in charge of the garrison. He pretended to make friends with Clodius, complimenting the youth for his performance in battle. He ordered him to inspect the Wall to the west and then swing north to the spring of the Celtic god Bormo, to meet one of Rome's agents and learn the mood of the tribes. The boy was flattered. Once he was gone, the senior tribune met with the centurion Falco, who'd owned the slave Odo."

"Yes. I have been interviewing Falco."

"Galba claimed he'd found one of the centurion's wedding table knives secreted in the junior tribune's chamber. He said Clodius was also hiding a Celtic bracelet that had been worn on the wrist of the slave. He said the youth should be confronted."

"How do you know this?"

"The steward Clio, who serves at headquarters, told us. Nothing is secret in the fort of the Petriana." She smiles again, enjoying my discomfiture. If post slaves know the results of officer conferences, so, I suspect, could any enemy. This is a point I should make in my report.

"Falco," Marta goes on, "said he'd been asked by Marcus to drop the matter. But Galba insisted an unpunished Roman murder would be used to incite the tribes. Formal charge, and formal compensation, might demonstrate Roman fairness."

"And blemish the young Clodius's career."

"Galba said the grove assault had been a mistake and that his doubts about Marcus had been confirmed. He said the line officers should act against Clodius before Marcus returned because aristocrats try to shield each other. Since the youth was north on reconnaissance, he could be arrested with a minimum of disruption. The boy had won some loyalty. At the shrine of Bormo, he wouldn't have protection from his men."

None of this makes sense to me. "Falco had already been promised compensation by Marcus. Why would he agree to this plan?"

"Oh, but he didn't, we learned later. He said a slave wasn't worth disruption and that they must wait until Marcus returned. Falco was no fool. He feared Galba was plotting mutiny and wouldn't have it. But all that was of no matter."

"No matter? Because Galba was going to act alone?"

"Because no arrest was ever intended. The entire idea was a sham. Galba caught Clio listening to the proposal and sent him away before Falco could make his objection. He knew the slave would eavesdrop and knew just how much he wanted Clio to hear."

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever watched a street magician, master?"

I'm annoyed at her manner, of teacher to slow-witted pupil. "Yes, yes. What of it?"

"Do you know how he does his trick? He persuades you to look at one hand while he does his mischief with the other."

"What does that have to do with the arrest of young Clodius?"

"Galba was a magician."

"I don't know what you mean."

"There was never to have been any arrest. His talk with Falco was intended only as slave gossip, designed to reach the ears of the maidservant Savia through the eavesdropping Clio. And through her to Valeria."

Suddenly I see it. "He didn't care about Clodius at all!" Galba had seen the girl escape her abduction. Watched his rival marry her. Failed to undermine that marriage by seducing her. But her husband had blundered by attacking the druids, and if Galba could eliminate the source of Marcus's political influence…

"The young tribune was of no real importance to him, "Marta says. "But Valeria had scorned and humiliated him. She was naive enough to believe any plot. Rash enough to leave the fortress. Brave enough to warn her young friend of an impending arrest that was never to have happened. Fated enough to go to a new world."