Terra Incognita

5

Just as pos Tumus had predicted, the lone rider reappeared- on a low rise to their right this time-just after the column had stopped for water. The officers continued to ignore him. When everyone moved on, he disappeared.

Ahead of Ruso, Postumus was berating a marcher for some misdeed or other. Ruso found it difficult to see how anyone could get into trouble simply by putting one foot in front of another, but some remarkably creative men seemed to manage it. Indeed, a man on a long journey could begin to think and do all manner of bizarre things. He could start to wonder if his housekeeper truly had seen something strange in the yard at the inn. Tilla was no fool: perhaps he should have been more sympathetic. He could wonder what he should do with the rest of the stolen money. He could even, after he had exhausted all other possibilities, begin to wonder if he should have listened to his ex-wife. Certainly, since he had discovered the true extent of his family’s debts, Ruso had begun to see-too late-the sense of Claudia’s plans to expand his business.

“I’m not a businessman,” he had objected. “I’m a doctor.”

“But you never try to make yourself known, Gaius. Do you? I keep telling you!”

“I don’t want to be known. I’ve plenty of work already. If I make myself more known, I’ll have more patients than I can cope with.”

“Of course you will! That’s the idea. Take on an apprentice to deal with the easy cases and-”

“But if people want me, they want me. Not some apprentice.”

“Oh, Gaius, for goodness’ sake! All you have to do is hire somebody who’ll be nice to people! You said yourself that lots of patients get better by themselves and all you have to do is try not to kill them while they’re doing it!”

“I said what?”

In the course of the argument that followed, it became clear that some unguarded and long-forgotten remark of his had been horribly mangled on its journey through the space between his wife’s ears and her mouth.

Finally, unable to shake her belief that she was repeating his exact words, he said,

“I hope that’s not what you go around telling people?”

“Of course not! I care about your career, even if you don’t!”

Ruso scowled at the ears of his horse. He needed a promotion. Distracted by Tilla and entangled in that business about the barmaid, he had failed to impress the right people in Deva. He could not allow that to happen a second time. In the future he must avoid dabbling in matters that were none of his business. And he must make it clear to everyone at this temporary posting that Tilla was not the troublesome sort of native who met gods in stable yards or spread rumors about men with antlers, but a respectable housekeeper who was under proper control.

It was starting to spatter with rain again. Ruso leaned back in the saddle as the horse began to pick its way down a long slow drop that had been cut into the side of the hill. To his right, a bank loomed above the road. To the left, a grassy slope fell away into a thickly wooded valley.

The column must have been descending for at least half a mile when he drew the horse to a standstill. For some reason the pace had slowed to a crawl, and there seemed to be a line of stationary vehicles ahead. He heard Postumus bellow the order to halt.

It was not a wide stretch of road, and the cavalryman coming up the hill had to weave his mount through the queue of men and carts.

“What’s the holdup?” asked Ruso.

“The river’s burst its banks,” explained the cavalryman. “Taken part of the bridge with it. They’ve got a team patching it up, but-” He broke off, distracted by shouting farther down the hill.

Stationary and bored, soldiers who had had nothing interesting to look at for some miles were craning to their left and yelling abuse. A rider was galloping at full tilt along the margin of the woods not 150 paces below the road. Ruso blinked. He rubbed his eyes. The rider definitely had the head of a stag. And the stag had antlers.

The cavalryman wheeled his horse around and plunged headlong down the hillside to join his comrades in pursuit. Ruso was wondering whether to follow them when over the shouting he heard someone farther back in the line roar, “Clear the road! Out of the way!”

What happened next was over in seconds and seemed to take hours. Ruso urged his own horse aside to the sound of screams and the bellowing of frightened animals. People were trampling over one another in the rush to escape the path of a heavy wagon careening down the road out of control. The axles were shrieking, the oxen galloping and skidding in a vain attempt to outrun the vehicle to which they were still yoked.

Ruso grabbed a fistful of mane as the terrified horse reared beneath him. One of the front oxen fell. The others were dragged down around it. The wagon collided with the thrashing tangle of black bodies. It slewed off the road, crashed onto its side, and rolled down the hill. For a moment there was a terrible silence. Then came the sound of men screaming.

Finally bringing the trembling horse to a standstill, Ruso surveyed the chaos. Further back, two carts had tipped off the road. One had a pair of mules still struggling and kicking in their harness. A boy had slid down from the bank above them where he must have leaped for safety, and was wiping the mud from his hands. A woman was comforting her sobbing children. People were calling the names of friends and of gods, gathering their scattered possessions or sitting dazed at the roadside while drivers set off toward the woods in pursuit of fleeing animals.

Legionaries were running to form a guard as two men with bloodied swords stepped away from the carcasses of the oxen. Down by the stricken wagon, Postumus was barking orders and a squad was struggling to heave the cargo of lead out of the wreckage.

He could not see Tilla.

He dismounted and put his hand on the shoulder of a pale boy who was standing motionless with his fingers in his mouth. “Are you hurt?”

The boy shook his head, still staring at the scene.

“Hold her steady for me,” ordered Ruso, pressing the reins into the boy’s hand. The child looked relieved to have something to do.

As he strode up to retrieve his medical case from one of the stricken carts, Ruso glanced down at the woods. The Stag Man, or Cernunnos, or whoever he was, had vanished.