Hadrian's wall

XXX

I realize, when Savia is brought before me again, that our relationship has subtly changed. I had her moved to better quarters and quietly inquired about her purchase price. It was low, as expected. Some word of my interest must have filtered back to her. She sits before me with new confidence.

Certainly we seem not so much master and slave, or interrogator and witness, as tentative allies trying to understand what happened at Hadrian's Wall. I don't find this assumption of equality entirely disturbing because I realize that I look forward to her company. This is the woman closest to the heart of Valeria, and thus most vital to my own understanding. I also find some strange comfort in her presence, as if we know each other better than we do. She's a little thinner than when I saw her last, but not disagreeably so, and in fact has an attractiveness that I didn't entirely recognize before. It is the serene beauty of the good mother or the longtime companion. It occurs to me that the beauty of another person increases with affection. Is it possible that I feel something for this woman? What does that say about my habit of solitude? I have roamed the Roman world and met thousands of people. Who, in the end, do I really feel close to? This is a question that seemed trivial in my youth. It is of increasing importance as I age.

She sits before me less anxious this time, knowing there's some unspoken understanding between us. Perhaps she thinks the story I'm piecing together has subtly affected me. Certainly I have become more at home in this tale of Britannia, less the skeptical sophisticate sent by Rome. My imagination has smelled the acrid smoke of the burning grove and the rank musk of a dead boar. What seems inexplicable at long range sometimes seems inevitable when explained in context. We share a history now, she by experience and I by understanding, and are bound to each other by what happened and what must happen next.

I greet her politely and relate what I have learned from the druid Kalin, who nursed Valeria on that crannog. I ask Savia to think back to her captivity in Caledonia with the clan of Arden Caratacus, prince of the Attacotti. What developed between this Celtic warrior and this Roman woman who had been ripped so quickly from her new marriage?

"I have been told of this boar hunt, for example. It changed things, did it not?"

"It changed Valeria." Savia looks at me now with hope.

"How?" My tone is gentler than the first time we met.

"She was almost killed, and thus never more alive. I saw the huge gorgon she'd killed when it was brought back to Tiranen for feasting, so heavy it had to be suspended between horses instead of men. Yet this Roman girl had slain the boar."

"The Celts were impressed?"

"The Celts thought it a sign. When she rode back from the crannog with Arden and passed between the wooden gate towers of Tiranen, they sang her powers as if she were an Amazon. Hool rode back with them, still bandaged with splints to his leg and torso, but everyone knew she had saved his life, and helped nurse him afterward. He shouted her praises. Cassius, her former bodyguard, gave her the polished tusks to wear on her neck. She had a look of stunned radiance. She'd felt the fire of being a barbarian."

"She liked it."

"She told me later that she'd never felt such fear. Or such exaltation at having survived. That hut on the lake where she'd healed had seduced her as well."

"So she and Arden came together."

"Oh, no. She remained a chaste married woman. You could tell by his longing."

"She felt loyalty to her husband?"

"Loyalty is everything. The question is how much loyalty her husband felt toward her."

"She gave up on the idea of rescue?"

Savia thinks about this for a moment. "She felt the rescuers had given up on her. Both of us felt that way, master. We still waited to hear the bleat of the Celtic warning horn that would signal her husband's approach in his golden armor, determined to wrest her away. This is the way it is in the old stories, like Agamemnon sailing to Troy to win back stolen Helen. Yet day after day went by without even word of negotiations. Then week after week, month after month. We didn't understand what was happening in the Empire, nor how Galba plied Marcus's fears. None of this would be made dear until the winter."

"And so Valeria, despite her chastity, felt doubt."

"We felt abandoned."

Abandoned. And adopted, I think. "What was your life like among the Celts?"

"Simpler. In Rome, everything was strategic: marriage, career, children, assignment, house, neighborhood, entertainment. One measured the progress of one's life by money and station. The barbarians, in contrast, were like animals, or children. It was hard to get them to commit to anything tomorrow, let alone months or years ahead. Time had less meaning. You'd set a meeting, and they might ignore it completely. Or show hours late with no apology. They were wonderful craftsmen who could carve a piece of wood into a song-but would also put off the repair of a leaky roof for weeks."

"Surely they had to pay attention to the seasons."

"That's what the druids were for. The priests would watch the sun and stars and tell them when to plant and reap. They'd also divine the future."

"With blood sacrifice?"

"Of animals. Yet I didn't doubt it might be with Roman captives, too."

"Was it clear that war was coming?"

"The raid on the grove had aroused the tribes, but the Wall was still too strong and the barbarians too divided. Uniting the Picts and Attacotti and Scotti and Saxons into one great army was Arden's goal, but it was an almost impossible one. There was no strategy. Arden understood planning because he'd lived among the Romans, but it was difficult to explain to his people. To them, time was circular and life was brief."

"A rather aimless existence."

"Not aimless. Simply that every deed was aimed at that day, not the next. It's a way of life not entirely unpleasant. They measure happiness by feelings more than achievement. Their homes are cruder than a tenement in Rome, their heat is more spotty, a proper bath is nonexistent, their clothes are rougher to the skin, their cooking is plain, their mud is everywhere, and they are more apt to have a cow in their dining room than an aristocrat. Yet why was there more laughter in Tiranen than at Petrianis, or even the Roman house of Senator Valens? Because they had so little, they worried less about keeping it.

Because they had so little to be proud of, they seemed less poisoned by the sin of pride."

"Surely Valeria longed for Roman comforts-"

"Their barbarism meant that our own worries receded as well. I'd never noticed as many flowers and as many birds as I did that summer. I enjoyed rain, and the sewing that it meant inside, and then sun because it meant we'd roam the meadows. Valeria rode almost every day on the new mare that had been given her, and Brisa began to teach her the bow and arrow. The archer had taken my lady under her wing, finding a kind of sibling that she'd missed since the deaths of her brothers. As Valeria improved her Celtic, Brisa learned some Latin. We were so dependent on our captors that we developed a strange fondness for them, the natural surrender of child to parent, or slave to master, or legionary to centurion. We still expected rescue and return, of course, so we regarded it all as an interlude. Almost a dream."

"The barbarians were kind to you?"

"The barbarians were people. Some were kind, and some were vulgar. None molested us except Asa, who resented Valeria and would play her little tricks. Once it was a burr under the saddle that caused her new horse to buck her off. The bitch would slip salt into a serving of honey or vinegar into a draught of wine. Petty things and catty gossip. It was annoying, and Valeria's protests did no good."

"Why did Asa resent her so much?"

"Because Asa was in love with Arden, and he'd forgotten the Celtic girl's existence. He'd been blinded by Valeria. She can do that, you know; the pretty minx has known how to manipulate and get her way since she was a young child. She'd flirt with him even while clinging to her married purity, and enjoy his torture without admitting it to herself. He'd warned others to leave her be and so felt he had to do so, too, and feared she'd lose her value as a hostage if despoiled. Yet it tormented him. Despite his professed hatred of Rome, he viewed her as exotic, somehow better than the women in Caledonia. I think he wanted Rome as much as he wanted to destroy it: his hatred and fascination came in part from a conviction of inferiority. The awkwardness was made worse because she was attracted to him. She tried to hide it, but I knew. Everyone did-"

"He was more her own age than her husband was."

"And handsome, daring, and commanding. Every woman felt a tremor when he went by. And yet it was more than that, I believe. The two fit naturally together like the halves of a broken coin. Despite his protestations, he was Roman enough to understand her world, and she wild enough to understand his. Yet they kept apart as if they'd burn if they touched. Both seemed haunted, and it worried the warriors. There were rumblings that he should either couple with the Roman vixen or get rid of her."

"What did you advise? "

"That she remain loyal to Marcus, of course. But when he didn't come and didn't come, I could see the child's doubt. Each evening we'd go to the palisade, and the country to the south would be empty of rescue. She'd never really been married; the man was too remote. Now this barbarian was at her side. My counsel was duty, hut my secret question was, Where did her happiness lie? Finally I went to see Kalin."

"What a meeting that must have been! The Christian and the Celtic mystic!"

"We'd talked before. He feared my god because I didn't fear his. I told him the old gods were dead and that he'd see as much if he tried to attack the Wall; that Rome had the protection of the Jesus it had once crucified. My warning made him wary. For men to sacrifice to the gods, this he understood, but for a god to be sacrificed for men: this, he complained, was almost impossible to believe. How could people follow such nonsense? And yet I'd describe how the Christian martyrs had in turn sacrificed themselves. He was fascinated by a Rome he could scarcely imagine, and I was intrigued by his herbs and roots to ward off sickness and heal wounds."

"So you were friends?"

Savia laughs. "I was determined he not sacrifice me!"

I smile. I'm not the first man Savia has manipulated. "What did he suggest for Arden and Valeria?"

"The new year's feast comes after the leaves fall from the trees. The Celts date their year from the end of harvest and the start of winter, and call it Samhain. They believe the spirits of their dead ancestors wake to walk the earth that night, and that the festival grants strange powers and unusual liberties. There's a fertility rite that involves two Celtic gods, the male Dagda and the female Morrigan. Each year a different man and a different woman are chosen by lot to play the roles. Kalin draws the lots."

"He decided to draw Arden and Valeria."

"He said it is a night of that other world, not this one, and that what happened between them on Samhain would be in the hands of gods, not men."