Island of Ghosts

IX

The next morning I saddled Farna, collected the second ten of my bodyguard, and rode into the fort to see if Comittus also needed to go to Corstopitum.

I found the tribune in his house, having a late breakfast with Flavinus Longus and Facilis. They all jumped up and hurried over smiling when I walked into the dining room.

“A hundred greetings!” exclaimed Comittus. “I’m glad to see you looking so well. Sit down and have something to eat.”

“Thank you, I have eaten already,” I replied. “Did you need to return to Corstopitum?”

“You’re not planning to ride there now, are you?” asked Longus.

“I sent a messenger yesterday, saying I would come.”

“You can send another one today, saying you won’t,” growled Facilis.

I shrugged. “Are you coming, Comittus? Or any of you?”

“Vae me miserum!” exclaimed Longus. “Man, when you arrived yesterday you were the color of a dead fish and your teeth were going like castanets. There’s nothing so urgent in Corstopitum that it can’t wait a day or two, is there?”

I shrugged again. I was very uneasy about the hours I had forgotten, and I was aware that while I rested in the fort, things might be happening in the town that could devastate and destroy. I was particularly concerned about Siyavak and the fourth dragon, brought to the town as something very close to prisoners and at the mercy of the same lies that had killed Gatalas. Perhaps I’d find nothing to do even if I went, but I didn’t want to risk it. “I am perfectly well enough to ride,” I said.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” said Comittus.

“And it was true then, and is truer now.”

“You’re a very obstinate man,” said Longus.

At that echo I grinned, and then found them all staring at me.

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“You were smiling,” said Longus.

“So?”

“So I’ve never seen you smile. Not more than a lopsided, if-you-think-it’s-amusing sort of twist of the mouth. I’d decided it was beneath your dignity. What did I say that was so funny?”

Comittus suddenly started to grin. “That woman on the farm told him he was obstinate as well, and he smiled then.”

“A woman on a farm?” asked Longus, with lively interest. “What woman on what farm? A young woman?”

“A lady,” I corrected him, beginning to be annoyed. “The widowed landowner whose people took me from the river and who drew me back to life by her care.”

“She was young though,” Comittus said, mischievously. “And rather pretty. And you’re right, Gaius, I’ve never seen him smile like that. Is she why you’re in such a hurry to get back to Corstopitum?”

I cursed inwardly. Romans manage love differently from Sarmatians, and I was uncertain myself how I should go about following what was still nothing more than an interest, a stirring of desire that had been dead. But I did know that my own people allow women far more freedom than the Romans do. The reputation of a Roman lady is a delicate thing, and rough jokes in the fort could break it. “The lady is a respectable woman of rank,” I said severely. “I owe her my life, and I will not have her spoken of with disrespect because she showed me kindness. If anyone fails to treat her with the honor she deserves, I will fight him in earnest.”

They were silent a moment, digesting this. Then Facilis laughed. He had a harsh, barking laugh, an unpleasant sound, but his face was genial. “I’m sure the lady is modest and highly respectable,” he said. “And I suppose your wife back home is like them all, officially widowed.”

“My wife back home was killed by the Second Pannonian cavalry,” I replied sharply, “and my little son with her. Their bodies were burned. Do not speak of them.”

I don’t know why I announced it to them like that. No one had spoken of them. All my followers, and most of Arshak’s and Gatalas’ as well, knew what had happened, but they had kept silent about it for fear of offending me. The Romans had not known.

“I’m sorry,” said Facilis, after a silence.

“Yes,” I said. “As you once pointed out, we started that war.”

“I’m sorry,” Facilis said again, and sighed.

“The second ten of my bodyguard are waiting outside,” I said. “Is there anyone else that needs to come, or shall I go speak to Priscus and to Siyavak on my own?”

“I left some things in Corstopitum,” said Comittus. “I’ll come. But I need to get my warm cloak and saddle my horse.”

“We will ride on slowly; catch us up,” I said, and turned to go. Just at the door, I remembered another thing I had meant to say, and turned back. “Comittus, Facilis-thank you for vouching for me to the legate.”

“What were we supposed to do?” asked Facilis in his usual harsh voice. “Lie?” But he was smiling again.

The ride to Corstopitum did not tire me too badly and we arrived to find the town peaceful. (Most of the troops, both Sarmatians and Priscus’ legionaries, were camped outside the city, as there wasn’t space for them inside.) I left my escort at the stables in the military compound and went to the commandant’s house, where Comittus and I announced ourselves to the slaves. I asked where Eukairios was, but nobody seemed to know. A nervous pay-and-a-half clerk said that he had been billeted in the commandant’s house, but that he wasn’t there anymore. They were sending out runners to find him when Priscus himself appeared.

“Huh!” he said, scowling at me. “So there you are. What happened to you? They said they pulled you out of the river.”

“Greetings, my lord legate,” I replied. “They said the same to me. I do not remember it.”

“Huh!” he said again. “Well, at least you’re alive. Your advice has been wanted. The fellow you put in charge of the fourth dragon has been full of complaints about supplies, and everyone seems to agree that you’d find a way to satisfy him. Come into my office. I’ll summon him and Gaius Valerius, and we’ll go over it all. Lucius Javolenus, did you need to see me?”

“No, sir. I only came to Corstopitum to fetch some things, but of course, if you have anything for me to do…”

“Go tell Siavacus and Valerius that Ariantes is here and they’re to come at once.”

“Yes, my lord. Uh…”

Priscus didn’t wait for the question, but stamped off into the building. I followed the legate into his office-or rather, the prefect of the Thracians’ office, which Priscus had taken over-and perched uncomfortably on the three-legged stool he’d indicated when he seated himself in the chair. (I would have preferred the floor, but knew it would embarrass us both.)

I was glad the officers of the fourth dragon had to be summoned; I had another matter I wanted to discuss. “My lord legate,” I began carefully, “I have been giving thought to the matter we discussed a few days ago.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “You worry about your men’s pay even when you’re drowning?”

Very likely I did give him what Longus had described as an if-you-think-it’s-amusing twist of the mouth. “I considered the problem of the horses as I was recovering.”

He gave a snort. “What about the horses?”

“Do you remember, my lord, why I was reluctant to sell the additional ones we own?”

“You said that the poorest man you commanded had once owned a dozen horses, and had two, and the richest once owned over a thousand, and had six. You thought it would be humiliating and distressing to them to lose any more. Distressing or not, Commander, the province of Britain cannot pay for barbarian numeri to keep six horses just to satisfy their vanity.”

“That was one reason, my lord. I had another one.”

He sighed. “And I must admit, the second was a bit more compelling than the first. You don’t approve of native breeds of horse, and you want to keep those you have for breeding.”

“The British horses, my lord, with a few exceptions, are not large enough to carry the armor. And the exceptions are extremely expensive. The dragon could not afford to purchase enough of them.”

“Very well-but you know the rules. We do not let Roman troops engage in farming while on active service-and that includes Sarmatians taking time out to breed horses.”

“Sir, the horses we have are in their prime. In a few years they will be past that prime and aging quickly. Without sufficient horses of good quality, we cannot use our armor. If we are to function at all, we must begin breeding the animals at once. Now, my lord, the thing I was considering was this. I understand that the army can lease out property to private companies, that in fact this is done with land used to provide supplies. Could we not lease out some of the horses to a suitable private farm? The breeding stock would remain ours, but the farm would feed and care for the beasts, and in return receive a set price for the offspring.”

Priscus looked at me for a minute, rubbing a hand thoughtfully against his chin. “Did you think of that yourself?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re a pretty damned odd barbarian. Yes, that’s an excellent idea. We could fix a price that would make it worth the farm’s while, but still be well below the market value of your bloodstock. If we had any foals surplus, we could sell them at a handsome profit. It’s an excellent idea. But wouldn’t your men be distressed and humiliated at this as well?”

“No. We are accustomed to… let out… our cattle. I had horses with every man in the dragon: they cared for them, I picked out some of the offspring, and they kept the rest. The men will understand it at once. But, my lord, we would have to give some of them leave to visit any farms that were chosen, to teach the British owners how to handle the animals, and to assist in the autumn when the mares are covered and in spring when the foals are born. We have not been impressed at how well the Britons handle horses.”

Priscus gave a harsh laugh. “Setting your men horserearing by the back door, eh? Well, if it’s just a few men, and just spring and autumn… we’d be hard-pressed to find the stud farms to manage such pedigreed beasts otherwise.”

“I have found one, possibly,” I said, coming to the point that had given me the idea in the first place. “The place where I was brought when they took me out of the river. The previous owner had purchased a very fine stallion, intending to use it for stud, but he died before fulfilling his intention, and his widow does not have the skill to complete it. They have some good grazing land, though, and some people who could learn horse breeding. I believe the lady who now owns the farm would be interested in such a proposal. I was to see her in a few days, about the stallion, which she wishes to sell. If it is acceptable to you, I could put this suggestion to her then.”

Priscus laughed again. “You don’t waste your time, do you? Lying there, fresh from drowning, and planning to invest in horseflesh. Jupiter! Eh, Bodica, my dear!” I turned on my stool, and there indeed was the legate’s lady, stopped in the office door and staring at me wide-eyed with a look not so much of surprise as of outrage.

“Come in!” her husband told her jovially. “Here’s Ariantes back, alive and fit and with a very clever way to pay for all his horses.”

Bodica smiled at Priscus and came into the office. I stood and bowed my head to her in greeting; when I raised my eyes, I caught the look of murderous hatred she shot me while her face was turned from her husband’s. I knew, as soon as I saw it, that we’d met on the road from Condercum. The meeting was still hidden in the fog that covered my memory, but I could sense it there now. It was a relief. It hadn’t made any sense that I’d fought Arshak and ended up in the river without a mark on me.

“Lord Ariantes,” she said, sitting down on her husband’s desk. “I confess, I never expected to see you alive again.”

“No,” I replied. “I myself believed I was dead, two days ago. And I can still remember nothing between leaving Condercum and waking half-drowned. I live by the kindness of the gods.” I did not want a contest with her yet, and wanted her to know that. I still had no proof, and I suspected that even memory would afford me no proof-not the kind of proof I would need to convince the legate that his adored young wife was guilty of treason. The bare word of a man who’d been threatened with demotion and even flogging for “causing trouble” would clearly not be enough.

Bodica gave me another glare of rage and loathing, then looked quickly away before her husband could notice. “What is this clever plan about horses?” she asked.

Priscus was explaining it when Siyavak and Valerius Victor came in. Bodica gave a bright smile to Victor, which he returned, but a lingering, assuring smile to Siyavak-and I noticed that that, too, was returned. I decided I was right to have come to Corstopitum.

Both officers, and Bodica, joined in commenting on the scheme and suggesting modifications to it. Then we turned to the business of Siyavak’s supplies (too much grain, not enough meat and milk) and the legate’s wife smiled again, and said she hadn’t meant to distract anyone, she’d just heard that I was there and she wanted to be sure I was safe and well, and she’d go. She went, leaving us to draw up comparative budgets. I missed Eukairios.

I could not satisfy Siyavak: I was not satisfied with the supplies for my own men. However, we agreed on an arrangement that was as good as we could get, and as soon as we had, Siyavak excused himself. It seemed to me that for a man who’d been asking to see me, he was now in a hurry to get away from me. I also made my excuses to the legate, and left with him: I wanted to talk to him.

He tried to slip away, and said he needed to go to the stables to see how his troop’s horses were. I refused to be slipped away from, and said I would join him. He was not pleased, but endured it. As soon as we were private, in the same alley where I’d argued with Arshak, I asked, “Has the legate’s lady spoken to you?”

He stopped in midstride and whirled to face me. “What do you mean?” he demanded suspiciously.

“She has spoken to Arshak,” I said. “I wondered if she had spoken to you.”

“They’ve both said some things to me,” he replied. “Some things I agreed with.” He turned back and started on.

“Wait,” I called after him. “The rod that was sent to Gatalas.. ”

That stopped him and turned him around again. “Do you know who sent it?” he demanded, eagerly this time.

I shook my head. “But listen, Siyavak. Whoever sent it knew how to make divining rods and set them in a pattern. But they used British writing on the last rod to make their message clear: therefore, the sender is British, but familiar with our own people. Further, the sender was able to get the message into Condercum when there was tension in the camp without the Roman authorities being aware of it: therefore, the sender was not Pictish, despite being in league with the tribes, but was probably a person of some importance within the Roman army. The messenger who brought it said it came from Eburacum. The lady Aurelia Bodica was in Eburacum. She is a British princess and a legate’s wife. And she has spoken a great deal with Arshak, and could easily have learned, from him or from his diviner, how to construct her message. She was asking about such matters even on the road from Dubris.”

He let out his breath with a hiss. “She had no reason to do it! Why would she want my lord to die?”

“If she’s spoken to you, you know better than I. Is a mutiny against the Romans a thing that would please her?”

Siyavak walked back toward me, now frowning deeply. “Why?” he asked again. “She’s a legate’s wife. Why would she want to help raiders from outside the Roman border?”

This was a thing that puzzled me, too. She was an ambitious woman-but surely a legate’s wife not only has a position of power already, but has further scope for her ambition in advancing her husband’s career? Instead, it had seemed to me from the first that she wanted to use us for a purpose of her own. Why?

“I don’t know why,” I admitted. “I have no proof that she’s the one who did it, and without proof I’ve already said too much. But I think I can guess what she said to you. Perhaps she welcomed you, promised you her assistance in Eburacum, told you that the Britons are the natural allies of our people, far more than the Romans. And when you agreed and she saw that you hated the Romans, perhaps she hinted that we might not always be enemies of the Britons, but could join with them against a common enemy. She’s told you, certainly, that I’ve gone over entirely to the Roman side, and you should not trust me.”

I’d struck the mark: his frown vanished in a look of consternation. “And you haven’t?”

It hurt unexpectedly that he had believed it so completely, and I answered him more directly and passionately than I might have done. “I’ll tell you whose side I’m on,” I said. “I’m on the side of the sixth dragon. I’m on the side of my own people. They followed me on raids against the Romans, they followed me to war. Now everything we gained in raiding is lost, like the war, and we’ve become dead men to our own people, but they must follow me still, across the ocean to an island of ghosts. All that we had is gone, but as long as they and I both live, they are bound to me and I to them. I will do my utmost for them. If that means Romanizing, I’ll Romanize, as far as I need to. I have as much reason as any man living to hate the Romans, but I can’t choose my alliances from hatred. The honor and safety of my people is in my hands, and I would rather keep them secure than be revenged on any enemy-particularly an enemy we have all sworn on fire to serve.”

“But if we could make an alliance against the Romans?” Siyavak asked-whispering now. “A successful one?”

“With whom?” I asked. “With someone who told a lie that sent your lord to his death and which would have left me disgraced, and my men, most likely, killed mutinying? And I’ll tell you more: the Picts we fought here not ten days ago hadn’t just heard that there would be a mutiny on the Wall to distract the garrisons, they’d heard it well in advance. They’d had time to settle blood feuds and forge alliances between tribes. Whoever sent that message acted deliberately and with forethought, and chose to tell Gatalas nothing except the lie that killed him. I don’t trust allies who take no risks themselves but are very free with other people’s blood. I trust them even less if they are, as I suspect, headed by a woman who smiles sweetly at her husband when she lies to him and slips from his bed to plot with his enemies. She says she is our natural ally-why should we believe she’s truer to us than she is to the legate? It seems to me far more likely that she’s playing ‘divide and rule.’ When we and the Romans have killed each other, she’ll collect the spoils for herself. Look at what she does, Siyavak, not at her smiles, and think if you trust her then.”

Siyavak thought, and gazed at me in distress. “I’ve always hated the Romans,” he said, “and everything that’s happened since we came to Britain has only made me hate them more. When the lady Aurelia Bodica talked to me and hinted at revenge, it gave me hope. But you’re right. You’re right. Very likely it was her who killed Gatalas, and her alliance would only kill us all. But I’m not used to bridling myself with reason. I never was a scepter-holder.”

“You’re the commander of a dragon now,” I replied. “You and Valerius Victor. You’ll have to learn.”

“Help me,” he said wretchedly. “You’re saying that to revenge my lord’s death, I must fight the enemies of my enemies? Not just on the battlefield, but in secret? How can I do it?”

“By all the gods! You mustn’t even think of revenge yet. We don’t know for certain that she sent the message, and if you were found plotting to murder the wife of a legate, we’d all be punished. No, all I have said is that the alliance we’ve been offered is no alliance, but a death trap. Our only choice is what it always was: keep our oaths or die. And how can we lead our people to death? Your prince commanded you to surrender to the Romans so that you’d live: do you want to throw his last gift away?”

“No,” said Siyavak, soberly. “No-but it is my duty to revenge him.” He rubbed a hand wearily along his face. “And you’re right. It’s my duty to see that the others of my dragon stay alive and reach the good fortune the gods promised us. Both duties make me an enemy of Lady Aurelia. But I don’t know how to go about discharging either.”

I’d won, made him a servant of Rome, and I felt only grief and weariness. I leaned against the wall. “I don’t know any more than you,” I said, “but I must warn you: she’s won Arshak over, completely as far as I can tell-though you probably know that yourself. And you can add one more thing to what we know of her: she’s dangerous. Arshak and I met her on the way back from Condercum. I can’t remember now what she said or what came of it, but I do know that I didn’t agree with her-and I ended up in the river.”

He stared. “I thought perhaps Arshak had fought you,” he said, after a silence.

“You believed that Romanizing has made me so feeble I’d lose without either of us putting a mark on the other?”

“No,” he answered, flushing a bit, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think at all. Then how…?”

“I can’t remember. But I don’t think the details will make a great difference. The god warned us in Bononia to beware of lies and deceits, and we must take that warning to heart. It seems to me that if you’re not going to join her, you have two choices. The first, the course I will follow myself, is never to see her privately, never to accept any gift from her, and to distrust every message you receive that she might have tampered with-and you’ll have to be suspicious of Arshak as well, since he’s firmly behind her banner.”

“And the second choice?”

“Let her believe that she’s won you over, discover her plans, and expose them. That’s the way you’d get your revenge without harming your men. But you’d have to lie to her. She might either discover it, and kill you-or she might win you over in fact.”

When I saw his eyes light, I knew which choice he’d make. But I’d known that he’d choose the more dangerous path if it offered him revenge. It was the path I’d both hoped and feared he’d choose-hoped, because he could learn things that would let us destroy our enemies; feared, because I was letting him take a course of danger and dishonor that I’d been too proud to take myself.

“Do you think I’d go over to her if she’s guilty of Gatalas’ death?” he demanded impatiently.

“I think you hate the Romans, and she’s very persuasive. She might be able to convince you of something you wanted to believe.”

“I am not blind or stupid,” he said bitterly. “I heard her before in a fog, without thinking, but when a thing’s been pointed out to me, I can see it. I will watch facts now, not pretty smiles. No. I will get revenge. But…” He stopped, then nerved himself. “But you must help me. I feel as though I’m riding an unknown plain without landmarks, and I don’t know which way to turn to reach my goal. You must advise me.”

I’d never expected him to humble himself that far, and I blinked at it. He went on quickly, in a low voice, “I don’t know how to govern myself, let alone command a dragon subject to the Romans. You’re a scepter-holder and you’ve learned to use the Roman roads. You must advise me, Lord Ariantes.”

I said nothing for a minute. It was not that I didn’t want to advise him, but I didn’t see how I could.

“I know!” he said, misunderstanding my silence. “I’ve insulted you, now to your face and before in my own thoughts. But I’ve thought from time to time as well that the sixth dragon was lucky in its commander, and I beg your pardon.”

“I have nothing to pardon,” I answered, touched by it. “You served your own prince honorably. But how can I advise you if you’re in Eburacum, under Bodica’s eyes? For you to consult me would put your life at risk. But if you want my advice, I’m here. We’ll talk through what we can here and now, and I’ll try to find another way for you to reach me in future.”

We talked for some time, first in the alleyway, then at the back of the stables, and parted in the end warmly. I’d been quite right in my first judgment of the man, that he was both intelligent and loyal. I could only pray to the gods that he was intelligent enough to deceive Bodica, and loyal enough not to be turned by her.

When Siyavak had left the stables, I remained for a while, sitting on a bale of straw with my head on my knees, rubbing my sore leg. I was tired-not perhaps as exhausted as I’d been the day before, but still, deeply and immeasurably tired. I’d made no arrangements to spend the night in Corstopitum, and my bodyguard were planning to meet me back in the stables around the middle of the afternoon. The thought of the ride back depressed me; the thought of arranging accommodation in the town for the ten I’d brought with me depressed me as well. I was trying to work up the strength to do one or the other when I heard a polite dry cough, and picked up my head to see Eukairios standing in front of me.

I smiled, so pleased to see him that I surprised myself. He smiled back: I hadn’t seen him smile like that before, and it transformed his drab, weary face into something quite different.

“I met Banadaspos in the town,” he said, “and he said he was to meet you here, so I came looking for you. I’m very glad to see you alive, my lord.”

“The gods have been kind to me,” I answered. “But where have you been? I asked for you at headquarters and at the commandant’s house, but they did not know where you were.”

“I’ve been staying with a friend in the town. But I packed my things when I heard you’d arrived, and I’m ready to leave whenever you want to.”

“Readier than I am, then. Eukairios, I am tired.”

He hesitated, then said cautiously, “You look very tired, if I may say so, my lord. Well, should I take my things back to my friend’s? I’m sure you have a standing invitation to stay at the commandant’s house.”

“I have, my bodyguard has not. And the town is overcrowded, with all the troops here. They might be sent to the servants’ quarters, or somewhere else that would offend them. No, better to ride back tonight. I need to find my armor. Then we can set out as soon as the others arrive back here.”

Eukairios sat down carefully on the straw beside me. “Banadaspos was fetching your gear from the armory, my lord. He told me about it when I met him just now. Why don’t you go somewhere and rest for a bit?”

I was relieved to hear it. “Why go somewhere?” I asked, leaning back into the straw.

He gave his short, nervous laugh, and I looked at him questioningly.

“Your notion of what dignity demands is so different from a Roman’s,” he explained. “A Roman noble might swallow a dozen insults which a Sarmatian would kill for, but he’d be outraged at the suggestion he could rest in a stable.”

“That is what houses are for, is it?” I asked. “Dignity, dignity.”

“And comfort.”

“For some.” I remembered Pervica, her house and her barn, and I smiled again. I began to tell Eukairios about River End Farm and about my plan for the horses. “Do you think she would be interested?” I asked.

“If the set price for the horses was good, I would think so,” he replied. I could see him calculating it in his head: budget horse fodder; budget vet’s fees; take gross income from the foals at probable set price; take net. “It would be a good steady income,” he concluded, “and there’d be a good chance of extra, as well, since the army officials coming and going would probably buy the wool from the sheep too, and other farm produce as well. Yes, a sensible woman would be very pleased with it.”

“Good.”

We were silent for a few minutes, me lying back with my eyes half-shut, contented now, Eukairios still sitting primly with his feet tucked under him. Then the scribe said, hesitantly, “I was glad to hear that you succeeded in calming things at Condercum. May I… may I ask what caused the trouble there?”

I explained. When I came to the markings on the rod, he caught his breath. “I’d… heard a little bit about this. I’d been wanting to talk to you when you got back, only you didn’t come back. My lord, I was very frightened, and I could only pray for your safety. What did these markings look like?”

I sat up: he sounded like he knew something. “Not like Roman writing,” I said. “The lines were not joined up, and there were no curved lines. It was more sticklike.”

“Like this?” he asked, and he bent over and made a series of markings in the dirt of the stable floor.

“Yes,” I said, staring at them, “Exactly like that. You know that kind of writing?”

“A little.” He rubbed the markings out with his foot. Like Victor, he didn’t seem to like the look of them. He sighed, staring at the rubbed earth, then looked up suddenly and met my eyes. “Have you ever heard of the druids?”

“No.”

His mouth twisted. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. They’re… another illegal religion.”

“Like yours?”

“No. Oh no. Not ‘like’ at all. But… we know of each other. We’ve shared hiding places with them, and the names of officials who could be bribed; we’ve exchanged information about arrests, journeys, boats that could smuggle a passenger to safety. I think we both know that if the other group became legal, it would be an enemy, but we’re both threatened with death for our faith, and that creates a bond, even unwillingly. The druids think we’re atheists and we think they’re addicted to sorcery, but we help each other.” He paused, then went on, “They are the old priesthood of the gods of the Celts. Britain was the center of their cult. That writing is the kind they use.”

I had a feeling like the moment in a hunt when you sight the quarry. I knew that a number of things I hadn’t understood were about to be explained. “If they are the priests of an old religion, why are they illegal?” I asked quietly.

“Because they are enemies of Rome.” Eukairios looked at me levelly and spoke in a steady voice, though his shoulders were hunched with tension and his hands locked together in his lap. “They were enemies of Rome before there was a province of Britain, before there was a province of Gaul. When Italians first fought Celts, the druids cursed them, and they’ve been cursing them ever since. Britain was always the center of their cult, the place they came to study their sacred mysteries, and when Britain first became a province, the druids took shelter in the West and preached rebellion. The Romans marched on them and slaughtered them, together with their wives and their children. That was about a century ago, and they and all their schools have been banned throughout the island ever since. It’s not true elsewhere in the empire. In Gaul they’re perfectly legal-but in Gaul they’re not the same. The ban hasn’t destroyed them. I’ve sometimes thought that their power is greater as a thing of whispers and shadows than it ever would be if they were legal, as they are in Gaul. They even send out emissaries to the Gaulish druids, whom they regard as heretical, telling them to mend their ways.”

He fell silent for another long moment, then went on painfully, “I met one of them in Natalis’ house in Dubris, a man called Cunedda. He’d been an emissary to Gaul, and once I gave him some information about a ship which probably saved his life-he was being hunted by the authorities at the time. We were very surprised to see one another, but when he learned that I had become your slave, he was pleased. He knew who you were, my lord. He asked me my name-I never told him that when we met before-and then he asked what it means. When I said that it means ‘well timed,’ he said, ‘I accept the omen! I pray that this meeting is well timed indeed.’ He wanted me to arrange a meeting with you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, my lord. I… didn’t know what you would do if I did, how you’d answer him. I didn’t want to betray him to the authorities, but I didn’t want to get mixed up in anything seditious, either. I made excuses and hoped he’d go away. But I met him again in Eburacum, and then again here, in Corstopitum. He was growing impatient, and said that you were avoiding those who might help you. My lord, he has an ally in the legate’s house.”

It was everything I’d thought. “Aurelia Bodica,” I said.

The hunched shoulders slumped with relief. “You know, then.”

“I had heard nothing. But it fits.”

“I saw her with him, in the legate’s house when I was billeted there, my lord. I left the house to avoid them. I was afraid, I… You see, I wouldn’t do what they wanted, wouldn’t arrange the private meeting, and it would be so easy for her to destroy me; all she would have to do would be to tell her husband that I’d stolen from her. I went into the town and stayed with my friend. I told him about her and about Cunedda, and he told me what he’d heard about the lady from his

… contacts. It’s the same here as it was in Gaul: the Christians and the druids exchange the names of people who are sympathetic or bribable, or hiding places which the authorities know nothing about-though, of course, the druids are very much more powerful here, in their homeland, and the Christians are very weak. The lady is known to be eager to protect the priesthood of the old gods, and is thought to be devoted to one of the most extreme sects. My friend said that there’s been a lot of tension just in the past year, with the druids pushing the limits of official blindness, and he found it very easy to believe that an extreme sect has been growing in influence. I was very alarmed. I realized that I’d been a fool not to speak to you about it before, and I asked Banadaspos to let me know when you got back. Only you didn’t come back.

“I was very frightened. I asked around at the stables and I found out that the lady Aurelia had had herself driven out of Corstopitum, to visit a shrine of the god Silvanus. I rode out to the shrine myself, and I learned that when she’d arrived there, she turned her slave and her driver out of the chariot and drove on alone. There were troops searching the road for you by then, so there was nothing I could do but ride back and pray. I thank God that you are still alive! That’s not the end, though. Yesterday morning, when I was here in the stables looking after the horse you lent me, Cunedda came in looking for me. He gave me this message: ‘Your master refused to listen to us. It’s true that he still lives, but he will not live long. Before this season is ended he will die, and die not by any human hand but by the power of the sacred ones. You will see it and believe.’ ”

So. A threat. I had heard many of them in my time, and it didn’t trouble me unduly. “A curse or an assassination?” I asked.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “A curse, my lord, at least at first. They are famous for working magic, sir, famous. They claim superhuman powers. They’re certainly used to killing people secretly. Before the Romans came they practiced human sacrifice, mostly on willing victims. The official druids in Gaul now say that human sacrifice is hateful to the gods, and even some of the other British druids say that if the victim’s unwilling, the sacrifice is useless. But there have been bodies found, strangled and dumped in the sacred wells, or hung from the sacred groves, and it’s been clear that they weren’t willing. People are afraid of the druids. If they don’t talk about them much, that’s the reason.”

I was silent for a little while. “This sorcery,” I said at last. “Is it powerful?”

“The druids claim it is, my lord. For my own part,” he said defiantly, “I know that no power on earth or under it can stand against my God.”

“Who is not mine. Still, I trust Marha, the holy one, is not his inferior. And from what you say, the druids have been cursing the Romans for centuries, and the power of Rome has only grown greater. But I will be on my guard. What did this priest mean by ‘before this season is ended’? Before the end of the winter, or before this matter is settled?”

“I imagine it means before the end of the month, sir,” he said unhappily. “ This season would naturally mean the season we’re in now, midwinter. The midwinter solstice is holy to the druids. It’s only ten days from now.”

“So, I do not have long to wait? That is good.”

He obviously thought I wasn’t taking it seriously enough. “Be careful what you eat, sir!” he exclaimed urgently. “The druids study drugs and poisons as well as magic.”

The memory of the lost hours shifted again in my mind, chilling me, but again subsided. “Thank you,” I said then, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you very much. You have given more loyalty than I have deserved of you.”

“No, my lord. I have given what my duty demanded, but given it later than I should. If I had warned you earlier…”

“Could this Cunedda inform on you?”

He went still-then nodded miserably. “If he knew I’d informed on him, he would,” he added. “If he didn’t know, I’d probably be all right. My lord, what happened on the road from Condercum?”

I shook my head. “I do not remember. I remember setting out with Arshak, and nothing afterward until my wakening in Pervica’s house-but I am certain I met the lady Aurelia on the road. She is, I think, the head of this conspiracy.”

He blinked at that. He had obviously put her down as this Cunedda’s disciple, a rich and arrogant young noblewoman playing for excitement’s sake with an old and dangerous faith. “You don’t think that Cunedda…?” he began-but trailed off helplessly, as though realizing that Aurelia Bodica was nobody’s disciple.

“She wishes to be a queen,” I said, trying to set all my assembled pieces in order. “Her family is royal, and was long hostile to the Romans. She resents the marriage that was arranged for her and admires her ancestress, the queen of the Iceni for whom she was named. She has great influence with her husband, and has been able to appoint her kinsmen and friends to positions of power-Comittus at least owes his place to her, and there must be others. Comittus will tell you, too, when he sings her praises, that she has influence in the civil administration of the North, which is also in her husband’s hands. She has had the power to create an instrument of war against the Romans, and I do not believe she would create that instrument and set it in the hands of another. She is a proud woman, and hates to be crossed in any way.”

He was shocked silent. We weren’t facing just one or two people near the legate and a handful of druids, but a substantial conspiracy, an unknown large number of people in the army and in places of power throughout the province.

“Have you heard any rumors about what her husband thinks of this?” I asked. It was the crucial question.

Eukairios nodded wearily. “He’s heard the rumors, but doesn’t believe them. He’s not British, of course: he’s an Italian from Mediolanum. Her family is royal, descended from the rulers of two kingdoms: they could have had the citizenship generations ago, but they refused to have anything to do with the Romans until very recently. They say that the legate was proud of himself for winning them over.”

“And recent events have not made him suspicious?”

“My lord, there are hundreds of British tribesmen in the Sixth Legion and thousands in the auxiliaries. Dozens of them might have been able to send that message: anyone with druidical training would have been interested in your people’s method of divination, and you don’t keep it a secret. Why should the legate believe it was his wife?”

“She has been after us,” I answered, sharply.

“And he’s grateful to her, my lord, for helping him with such an irritable and indomitable people. He believes that without her help, he would have had far more trouble with Lord Arshak’s people in Eburacum.”

“She’s won over Arshak and tried Siyavak.”

“My lord, I thought as much. But the legions are not united either. There are factions even inside the Sixth at Eburacum, and I suppose that the legate thought she was winning them to his faction. My lord, Facilis would know more about this. He’s a good man; I’m sure he would help.”

Facilis was a shrewd man. He had guessed enough to let him suspect the lady, even without knowing about these druids, or hearing the hints she made to me and my brother princes. I was not surprised that he’d tackled Eukairios on the subject as well. But there were reasons why I could not accept any help from that quarter.

“So,” I said, ignoring the suggestion, summing up. “Our enemies may be anywhere. We have no evidence that we could bring to a Roman court. Even if I remembered what the lady said on the road, I could only pledge my word against hers and Arshak’s, and my word will not be enough. I am not trusted. Her own servants are unlikely to testify against her. This Cunedda is protected by her, and unlikely to be caught unless you inform on him, which you cannot do. As for you, she would say that you are my slave and will speak as I order you.”

“I can’t give evidence in court anyway,” he said hurriedly, looking sick. “Anything I said would be weighed as testimony, which doesn’t count as much as evidence… and… and I’m not sure I could repeat it, sir, under torture: please don’t ask me to.”

“Torture?” I asked in surprise.

He looked surprised in turn, that I hadn’t realized this. “The testimony of slaves is always taken under torture, sir.”

“Marha!” I exclaimed in disgust. “No. We cannot say anything to the authorities-not yet. We must wait in silence until we have the power to strike in force. Do not repeat what you have just told me to anyone-and particularly not to anyone in my bodyguard.”

He smiled weakly. “I imagine that they wouldn’t take it quietly if they knew the legate’s wife had tried to kill you.”

“They would decide among themselves who would kill the lady,” I told him, flatly and truthfully, “and that man would swear afterward under any torture that I knew nothing about it. They are brave and honorable men, and have sworn to defend me. I would not willingly lose any of them. And they would not understand that the Romans would be outraged and punish all of us, nor that the authorities are accustomed to lies and would believe me guilty anyway, nor that the conspiracy might survive the lady’s loss, and strike back. I believe that the lady Aurelia heads it, but I have no doubt that she is not alone.”

We looked at each other for a moment, and saw that we both understood that we could trust neither the honesty of the authorities nor the discretion of my subordinates. But perhaps I’d found a solution to another problem.

I told Eukairios about Siyavak and his resolve to discover and expose Bodica’s plans. “Do you have friends in Eburacum as well?” I asked.

He looked nervous. “There is a small ekklesia in Eburacum,” he admitted.

“A what?”

“A… an assembly. Of believers. We use the Greek word.”

“Could someone in this assembly write letters for Siyavak, and send them to me secretly? He is a young man and still impulsive, and I am afraid for him if he’s left entirely on his own with this lady-and even if he should discover something, it might cost him his life if he tried to reveal it himself. But I have no way of contacting him which she would be unable to interfere with-and for that matter, I do not completely trust Comittus not to spy for her in Cilurnum. He is her kinsman, and admires her greatly. I need some method of communication which she knows nothing about and cannot tamper with. Your friends could provide that. And I would welcome it very much if they, and your friend here, could continue to tell us what they learn from these ‘contacts.’ ”

He was silent, looking at his hands, his shoulders hunched again.

“Do your fellow cultists perhaps have more sympathy for these druids than for the Roman authorities who persecute you?” I asked.

“No,” he replied at once, but unhappily. “No, we pray for those in authority, and we know perfectly well that in Britain the druids would be far more ruthless with us than the Romans are. It’s true what Valerius Natalis said: no one has bothered the assemblies in Britain very much. No, it’s just… it’s just you’re suggesting we make an alliance with… with…” — a tribe of bloodthirsty barbarians, he meant to say, but didn’t-“an earthly power, and we…” He stopped himself, reconsidering. “But we are a part of the province of Britain, even though most of us aren’t Roman citizens or British tribesmen. If there were an… uprising”-he brought himself to say the word-“in Brigantia, and invasions by the Picts, we would suffer along with everyone else. We’d suffer more, if the druids had a kingdom of their own. I don’t know, my lord. I can’t answer for the Christians in Eburacum. I must pray, and write to them. Then they can answer for themselves.”

“That is fair,” I said. “Write to them. I will try to arrange for us to ride down to Eburacum when this season is ended.” I remembered the other thing he had told me, and added, relishing the old challenge, “If I am still alive.”