Saturnalia

XLVIII

She was older than I expected – much older than I remembered. That was a shock. Although the circumstances of our first encounter may have washed my memory of her with a golden haze of romance, being captured by Rutilius Gallicus had brought about one of those abrupt deteriorations that affect some people physically. She must have aged fast over a short period; endless forests notoriously lack discreet little cosmetics shops to remedy that kind of damage.

She recognised me. 'Didius Fako.' Those blue eyes saw what I was thinking about her appearance. Mind-reading is one of the traits that mysterious priestesses always cultivate. 'You seem unaltered by time!' It did not sound like a compliment. Rats, I was used to that. 'Don't be fooled. I'm married with two children. I grew up.' I wondered if she knew that something similar had happened to Justinus. Presumably when the fool wrote, he told her. Or maybe not…

Away in the forest Veleda had looked every inch a rebel leader, the brilliant inspiration of ferocious warriors who under her guidance not only took on the Empire, but took on Rome and nearly won. My companions and I had seen her walk among her people with magnificent assurance. The wiles that entrapped Justinus had been based on her physical beauty, as well as her intelligence and power (Plus that talent all clever women use against men – showing an interest in him). She still was a striking woman. Tall, erect of bearing, riveting blue eyes, fair – though when her hood fell back as she turned towards me, the shining blonde had faded. If grey was not yet covering the golden braids, it would be rampant soon. None of her confidence seemed to have been sucked from her by the humiliation of capture, yet something had died – or was dying – within her. It was simple enough. The legendary Veleda was no longer a girl.

She felt no change. I could see that. The blur of a bronze or silver mirror would not have shown her those fine lines around her eyes and mouth, or the way her skin had begun to lose its elasticity. It was likely the doctors who attended her at the Quadrumatus house, the men Helena had derided for instantly deciding that Veleda's problems were 'women's hysteria', had correctly diagnosed that she had hit the change of life – though looking at her, I could see signs of real illness too. But Veleda was still herself; she faced the future wanting life, influence, success. It meant she was still dangerous. I must remember that.

'Veleda. I never thought that we would meet again. Sorry; that's trite.'

'You don't improve, Falco.' Now I remembered, she had never liked me. She had taken to Camillus Justinus at once because he was uncynical, innocent and – as far as he ever could be on a dangerous mission – honest. Very few Romans would be as open in a tight situation as he was. She had convinced herself the young hero was genuine – and he did very little to disappoint her.

In contrast, she had realised I was trouble. I had been sent to the endless forest where she lived in an old Roman signal tower, guarded by a disgusting crew of hangers-on: male relatives, exploiting their relationship. I was sent specifically to manipulate her, coerce her, stop her fighting Rome. I might even have killed her. For all she knew, that had been my intention. I was not sure myself what I would have done, had the opportunity presented itselЈ Whenever I worked as the Emperor's agent, I was the hitman with no scruples, ordered off on dirty tasks abroad that the state would not acknowledge and could not openly condone. I unbunged the blockages in the diplomatic sewers. If elegant conversation had been enough to deter Veleda as our foe, Vespasian would never have sent me.

Last time we met, I was her captive. Now there were just the two of us, standing on a deserted lakeside, me with a sword and her unarmed. Once again, she knew what I was thinking. 'So, are you going to kill me, Falco?'

'If this were Germania Libera…' I sighed. Life was foul and fate was filthy. Here a swift end for Veleda was against the rules. I didn't care about the rules, but somebody might be watching us. 'I don't expect you to believe me, lady, but my version of civilisation says it would be best to kill you cleanly, rather than have you paraded on a cart like a trophy and the life choked out of you by some filthy executioner. '

Veleda made no answer. Instead, she turned away again, staring into the lake as if she glimpsed shifting images of those sunken barges in its peaceful waters.

I moved closer to her side. 'You may have met an old man who told you, there are fantastic ships lying in the lake, ships created for an emperor. I shall never forget that you gave me the precious gift of a general's ship once. You saved our lives. Your tribe must have hated you for it. So, Veleda, are you calling in favours?'

Veleda turned and raked me with a cold glance. 'If I wanted a return of my favour, I would have sent to you as soon as I arrived in Rome.' 'Who did you send to for help then?' I challenged her. She stood straight as a spear. 'I sent to no one.' I smiled thinly. 'No need, of course. There was a young man with a high sense of duty – and strong feelings for you that had never died.

So he wrote to you.' 'If you know that, Falco, then you know I never answered him.' I could not decide whether we were making progress, or just swamping ourselves in pointless talk. Now we were both staring into the lake water.

'I believe you, Veleda. We may be enemies, but in the past we dealt with one another fairly. I told you straight why I came to your domain, and you in turn honourably told me the fate of a man whose death I was investigating. When my companions and I left you, we went with your foreknowledge and approval. We had put our arguments for peace before you; you remained free to choose whether to continue hostile activity against Rome or to be swayed by us.' I meant, swayed by Camillus Justinus, for he had been our spokesman. He was the only one Veleda would listen to.

I dropped my voice. 'So still in the same spirit, Veleda, tell me this: was it you who killed Sextus Gratianus Scaeva?'

The priestess stepped forward half a pace and crouched suddenly at the water's edge. Leaning out, she trailed her slender fingers in the lake. Waves trickled against them as she moved her hand one way and then the other. She looked back at me over her shoulder with angry eyes in a pale face. 'And cut offhis head? And placed it in the stagnant water?' I noticed she spoke as if those had been two distinct actions and that she despised the collected rainwater in the atrium pool. She was clearly aware that blame for the atrocity had been assigned to her. Her voice sounded defiant. 'No, Falco!'

She stood again. Now she was too close to the edge of the lake, her sandalled feet actually in the water. Waves wetted her gown hem. At her flurry of movement, waves even tugged the hem of her long cloak away from her a few inches.

I wanted to ask whether she knew who did commit the murder. But I stopped. I saw from her expression that Veleda had noticed something. I glanced behind. Walking down the shore towards us, unhurried but with purpose, came Helena Justina: Helena my wife, the extremely protective sister ofVeleda's one-time Roman lover.