Rome: The Emperor's Spy: Rome 1

by M C Scott

  ‘I don’t think so either.’ No softening showed in the marble stillness of his face, but his voice became unbearably gentle. ‘You had to choose, Hannah. Neither of us could do it for you. And you have. We all must live with that.’

  ‘Is there no going back?’ In full daylight, her world had become dark.

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Among my people … it would be different. In the roundhouse, men and women join for love or lust, a child is made, and perhaps by the time the child is born the man has gone and the child is reared by a man she names father who was not her sire. But we are not in the roundhouse now and you have not lived like that. Pantera, I think, would not share you. And if I am honest, I would find it hard. Some stay with their first love for life. I think I would be one such.’

  He lifted his hand from the reins. His horse took a step forward. ‘You should go,’ he said. ‘I will ride down to meet my mother’s brother and let him know that at least one part of the dreaming came to pass. We will each remember that we parted with courage. It is best that way.’

  Hannah’s breath was searing her chest. She heard horses on the road behind, and prayed as hard as she had ever done, to the god in whom Hypatia believed, that it was who she thought it was.

  To Ajax, she said, ‘Which part of the dream will be lost?’

  ‘The part which said that I would return to the care of my family bringing with me the other half of my heart, and that I would be father to the child conceived in Rome.’

  She counted four horses. Ajax must have heard them, too – he could hear a fly alight on a leaf a mile away. She made her own mare stand still.

  ‘That wasn’t your sister’s dream,’ she said. ‘You told me she dreamed only of Math.’

  ‘Graine is eight years old. And she has reasons of her own for not dreaming the making of a child. In that detail, her dreams were different from Valerius’, but in all other respects they were identical. And you have what you wanted. We are no longer alone.’ Ajax closed his eyes. She thought she heard him speak a prayer, or an oath, but not with her ears, only with her mind.

  Presently, without opening his eyes, he said, ‘Seneca’s leading: he leans to the left and unbalances his horse. Pantera, just behind, is exhausted close to the point of incapacity, but not quite there yet. Math, as ever, rides as if his passion gave the horse wings. He’s sad now. He has left his chariot horses behind in Rome under Nero’s care.’

  ‘And the fourth rider?’ Hannah asked. ‘Is it Shimon?’

  ‘Not Shimon. Someone lighter than him, with more facility on a horse. If I had to guess, I’d say it was the guard who was with Pantera through last night.’ Ajax spun his horse slowly on its haunches and looked at her properly at last. ‘Shall we find out?’

  Math saw Hannah first; since the last milestone, he had been searching the horizon for the sight of black hair and her smile beneath it. Coming round the final bend, he saw her cast sharp against the deep blue sea behind, with the sun spinning her hair to gold and sparking off a fragment of metal at her belt. She was too far away to see her face, but he knew from the set of her shoulders that she was unhappy.

  Pantera saw them too. He murmured ‘Mithras’ in a way Math had not heard before. His horse broke stride with the word then quickened straight after; he was always a man to face his own terrors.

  Mergus, who had travelled all the way at Pantera’s side, kept pace as if he were already bound to Pantera’s shadow. Math let his own horse have its head, cantering on the firm road. Seneca swore by a haphazard assortment of other gods, and followed.

  The old man hated riding; anyone could see that, but nothing short of death would have stopped him coming to the docks to see Math depart. At least, that was what he had said when he brought them their horses; not the four chariot colts, they must be left in Rome, but good riding horses, given by a tribune Pantera knew.

  Seneca had been uncommonly helpful. Math thought now that he had engineered everything so he could see Pantera meet Ajax in Hannah’s presence.

  Even this far away, with fifty yards still between them, the air was thick with things unspoken, sharp with care and fiercely fragmented passions, so that riding the last few strides to the dock in the hotly humid noon felt like breaking through ice on the horse trough at midwinter.

  Nobody had spoken. Nobody, Math thought, was going to speak. Having least to lose, he opened his mouth, ready to take that burden himself, when the shadows at the dockside shifted, and a man stepped forward, and said, simply, ‘Hello, Math.’

  Math gaped, and swallowed and gaped again and stared as if his eyes might break. The man was Ajax’s height, or even taller, but had Pantera’s colouring: a skin that favoured the sun. He had Pantera’s hair, grown long, but Ajax’s mouth and the same slant to his nose. He had straight shoulders, which was entirely unlike either of them, and eyes that were black as the night sky seen in a millpond.

  ‘You were in my dreams,’ Math said. His voice was strained, needing water. Everyone was looking at him. ‘You blew the horn for me at the roadside in Rome when we raced against the fire. And before that, in Alexandria, you called to me to roll tighter when I fell from the chariot. I thought you were Ajax. Or Pantera.’

  ‘I was trying to help. I apologize if it was improper.’ The man’s eyes said more than his words. Here, Math thought, was someone who had known grief and pain and unbearable loss and yet still felt himself beloved of his god.

  Math was staring again. He tried to look away and couldn’t.

  The man made a small, apologetic movement. ‘I’m sorry. With so many months to prepare, I had thought I might do this better than this. You’ve lost a father and I bring you news of your family, and even that I haven’t delivered yet.’ The man gave the formal salute of the Britons. ‘I am—’

  ‘You’re Valerius!’ Pantera pushed his horse past Math’s. Disbelief transformed his face. ‘Julius Valerius, decurion of the first troop, the First Thracian cavalry, stationed at Camulodunum. You’re a Lion of Mithras! You brought me to the god. You gave me the brand, and then later burned over it, so that the warriors of Britain might not know me as a servant of Rome, but would believe me one of their own. What in the god’s name are you doing here?’

  Valerius blinked. Math had not known him more than a dozen heartbeats, but already it was interesting to see him taken aback; it wasn’t something he could imagine happening often.

  ‘Sebastos Abdes Pantera. I had thought you dead four years since. I’m glad to see it not so.’ When nobody spoke, Valerius rubbed the side of his nose. ‘As to your question, I profoundly hope I’m here for the same reason you are, namely to return Math to his family. He has lost a father, but gained a brother and two sisters. The first of these, he knows. The others are waiting for him on Mona, where the legions have not yet returned.’

  ‘They’ll return soon enough,’ Pantera said. ‘When Nero is no longer emperor …’

  ‘Of course. And we’ll go to Hibernia, where Rome will never come. It is all ready. We wait only for Math. And those others who will come with us?’ His black gaze glanced off Seneca and Mergus, but lingered on Pantera, Hannah and, last, and longest, Ajax.

  Math was lost in a maze of words and meanings. Something Nero had said in the garden buzzed between his ears. He had thought it was another lie and given it no thought.

  We gave our word that you could take the boy to his brother, who had heard of the father’s death and come to look for him.

  Math pushed his horse a pace closer. ‘Are you my brother?’ he asked of the tall man who had been a decurion of the cavalry.

  Valerius frowned. He stood close enough for Math to see the lines about his eyes, and the thin web of old battle scars on his neck and hands.

  ‘It would be my very great honour to be Caradoc’s son,’ he said. ‘But no. The burden and joy of that fall to Cunomar.’

  Math stared at him, uncomprehending.

  ‘He doesn’t understand,’ Ajax said, from somewhere behin
d. ‘He knew our father as Caradoc. But he knows his brother as Ajax.’

  Math’s world melted, slow as ice in the noonday sun, each word a drop that made only lately gathered sense. Numbly, he turned on his horse, all the way round with his back to the mane and his feet pointing towards the tail, to face back to where Ajax was. It was a good horse. It stood and let him do it.

  ‘You’re not Ajax?’ he asked. He sounded like a small child.

  ‘I’m who you know me to be.’ Ajax brought his own horse close. He touched the back of Math’s wrist. His amber eyes were uncommonly warm. ‘As Ajax I came to Gaul to look for you, ready to follow wherever you went. But before I was Ajax I was Cunomar, son of Caradoc and Breaca, who was known as the Boudica, and who led the armies of Britain until her death three years ago. You are the son of Caradoc and Cwmfen, a warrior of the Ordovices. And you are my brother.’

  In the hot day, Math shivered. ‘My father was a warrior,’ he repeated. He had always known that. Here, now, it mattered to say it aloud.

  ‘The greatest,’ Ajax said.

  ‘But you’re a bear-warrior. You’re the greatest.’

  ‘I’m a small shadow compared to our father or either of our mothers.’ Ajax was smiling at last, which was a relief greater than anything else. ‘Come to me, little brother, who carries the world on his shoulders. Come to me.’ He pushed his horse alongside and, leaning over, swept Math off his own mount.

  ‘Little brother,’ he said again, with his lips on Math’s hair. ‘I saw you born, and saw our father fight for you, but I never held you or called you what you were. I should have done it sooner than this.’

  He pressed a kiss to Math’s crown, and then wrapped him close in a tight embrace. Slowly, it came to Math that he was weeping. Ajax was weeping. Seagulls watched them, keening. Lazy waves slapped against the dock. Ropes creaked with the swaying ships. Math clung to his brother in a blind, swooning joy, and was held.

  There was a way the joy could be made greater. Squirming free, Math eased back so that he could see Ajax’s face, in all its complex not-quite-hidden passion. ‘Will Hannah come with us to … the place where we’re going?’ The island’s name was still too foreign to speak. ‘Will Pantera?’

  He was half prepared for what might come, but even so the change in Ajax was still a shock; like a door slammed shut in his face, just as he was stepping through.

  He found himself set back on his horse. With his face set, Ajax said, ‘I don’t think that will be possible. Some things must—’

  A shadow slid between them. ‘You don’t know what’s possible or impossible,’ Pantera said. ‘Not yet. Ajax, we need to speak in private. Will you come with me, please?’

  * * *

  The sound of Math speaking his name jerked Pantera from the shocked stillness that had bound him.

  Under the gaze of Valerius, who had first brought him to Mithras – Pantera needed several days to become used to the idea of that – he found the strength to reach Ajax.

  Taking the man he had once called his brother by the shoulder, he signalled Mergus, who stepped back to let them pass and did not try to follow.

  They didn’t go far; only round the back of the harbourmaster’s house, to the southern, sunny side of the dock, where women were still cleaning the last of the morning’s catch, under a cloud of mewling gulls. Here, they could speak without being heard.

  ‘Ajax …’ Pantera still had no idea what to say.

  ‘No.’ Ajax put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him at a distance, keeping him quiet. ‘You are still my brother. There is no need for conflict. When the boat leaves, Hannah will stay with you here in Ostia. Math will come with us to Mona, to join his sisters and to learn his birthright. You will, of course, raise Hannah’s child well and if it chances that she comes to us in adult life, Math will be ready for her. Already he is dreaming with Valerius. These things do not happen often, or lightly.’

  ‘Did Hannah say that she wanted to be parted from you and Math?’ He could say her name. For that, Pantera gave private thanks to his god.

  ‘Hannah is … ambivalent.’ Ajax said. ‘I am grateful, naturally, for her kindness in that. But she made her choice last night in the goose-keeper’s—’

  ‘Stop.’ If they spoke of that, Pantera knew he would lose what courage he had. ‘If she had made any kind of choice, she would have told you so clearly. She has more courage than either of us.’

  A muscle twitched on Ajax’s cheek. ‘She does.’

  ‘So we can agree about something.’ Pantera sat down on the dusty stone harbour, leaning his back against the harbourmaster’s house. Ajax stood outlined by the crystal sky, and the sea. He burned with life; it was not hard to see why a woman might love him.

  Pantera said, ‘It’s not only Hannah who has to make a choice. I made mine this morning in Nero’s garden. Math’s freedom comes at the expense of my own. To Nero, I have given my word to hunt Saulos. To Shimon, I have promised to do whatever I can to keep Jerusalem intact. Hypatia and Mergus have pledged to help me.’

  Ajax shook his head. ‘Shimon and Hypatia would release you from your pledges, and from what I’ve seen of Mergus, he will follow where you lead and count himself lucky. As to Nero – you don’t have to keep your word to that … filth.’

  ‘I do. He’s emperor and his word is law. Your father escaped him, but Math has a family to meet and he can’t do so if he’s constantly running from Nero’s agents. So I must go, and Hannah can’t come with me. Even if she wanted to, I wouldn’t take her; the risk is too great. I give her to your care. Whether you choose to love her or to abandon her out of false pride is entirely your own affair.’

  Ajax watched the gulls a while. ‘Her child,’ he said. ‘In Valerius’ dream I was the father, but—’

  ‘When I was with the Dumnonii, a child’s father was the man who reared her, who taught her, who protected her, who cared for her as she grew. Who sired her mattered not. If that has changed …’ Pantera shrugged.

  ‘It hasn’t.’ Ajax crouched down on his heels. Their eyes were level. His gaze searched the crannies of Pantera’s soul. ‘You love her as I do,’ he said. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  Under the merciful touch of his god, Pantera gave the best and only gift in his possession. ‘When she reached the height of her passion,’ he said, ‘she spoke a name. It wasn’t mine.’

  ‘Truly?’ Ajax’s eyes did not let go.

  ‘I swear it in the name of my god, and by the oath I gave your father. Nothing is more sacred to me.’ By that same god, by that same memory of Caradoc, Pantera hid deep in his own memory the name he had heard and prayed that Ajax not ask it.

  He didn’t.

  They were silent a long time. Neither of them broke the thread of their joined gaze. At the end, Ajax held out his hand. They hooked their fingers together and, like that, using each other as a lever, they stood.

  ‘If you need help in killing Saulos,’ Ajax said, ‘you know the ways to ask.’

  ‘I know some of them, I think. But I’ll try not to impose.’

  ‘Helping a brother is never an imposition. And when you have killed him, there will always be a place for you amongst the bear-warriors of Britain, wherever we are. Hannah’s daughter will be there. She will grow knowing who sired her; that Sebastos Pantera was first among his peers in the skills of life, and war.’

  Pantera found his throat dry, and speech difficult. ‘If you were to name her Gunovar,’ he said, ‘it would be a great kindness. One day, perhaps I will tell her why.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  ‘Hannah?’

  She heard Pantera call her name, and could read nothing in it. But then she watched them come round the side of the harbourmaster’s house together as brothers, and knew there was only one way that could have come about. She was already weeping when Pantera reached her and drew her aside.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  The others turned their backs, giving them privacy. Pantera’s hands stroked her hair
as they had done in the night, and under the veiled gaze of dawn. His eyes fed on her face.

  ‘Nero had Math,’ he said. ‘The only thing I had to bargain with was myself. I have pledged to hunt Saulos. Hypatia and Mergus have sworn to come with me.’

  ‘Shimon?’

  ‘Shimon will die this evening. He is Nero’s scapegoat; a man on whom all blame can rest.’

  ‘Oh, Shimon …’ She pressed her head to his chest where the even beat of his heart reached her. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ The words were jagged in her throat.

  He kissed the crown of her head. ‘I’ll be with Hypatia. We can talk of you together. Ajax couldn’t have done that.’ He leaned back, and tilted her head up. ‘I promised I’d bring her to greet you. She’s here, she’ll come if you want her, but she said it would be easier on both of you not to meet again. You said your goodbyes in the goose-hut.’

  Hannah said nothing; speech was impossible. Pantera read the answer in her eyes. ‘I’ll tell her,’ he said.

  He stepped back. She caught his wrists, thinking he was leaving. ‘Will your daughter never know you?’ she asked. ‘What do I tell her?’

  ‘Tell her the truth. That you loved two men, one of whom sired her, one of whom fathered her. Ajax has said he will tell her the same.’ He eased his hands free, kindly. ‘Ajax said I could come and find you when Saulos is dead. I’ll send word first. If you don’t want me, if it will make your lives too difficult, tell me so and I will find somewhere else to go.’

  ‘I won’t do that.’ She was frantic now, feeling the end. ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘Don’t sell your future to the present. Only raise our daughter well, knowing love, and not war. You and Ajax can do this. It’s what matters most.’

  He bent his head and kissed her and straightened and walked away to speak to Math. Hannah did not move until he was gone.

  Without knowing, Pantera had saved the hardest to last.

  Math came to him slowly, as one who expects a beating. As he crossed the white stone, Pantera had time to think how long he had known it would come to this. Entering Nero’s garden, certainly, it had been clear there was no other way out. Leaving the goose-keeper’s cottage, he was fairly sure he had already known it. And then perhaps before he got there, in the night when he made his bargain with Nero and was prefect for the duration of darkness, with a promise that a boy would be freed with the dawn. Or before that, even, before he’d returned to Rome, when he saw the race in the compound at Alexandria, and Nero’s grief. Or in Coriallum, giving his oath to a dying man in a fire. Or stepping on to the dock, to see a gold-headed, filthy dock thief pretending to fish with the stink of horses in his hair. Or—