Island of Ghosts

by Gillian Bradshaw

  The precautions taken by the officers at Cilurnum proved to have been sufficient, and my fears unfounded: though things had been tense, my men had not yet begun killing Asturians. When I appeared, somewhat the worse for the ride, the Asturians came running out of their barracks and the Sarmatians galloped up from the camp, and there was a great deal of shouting. Even Facilis seemed pleased to see me.

  I was by this time feeling very chilled and utterly exhausted, so after letting my men see that I had not been murdered by the Romans and giving a few orders to my officers, I went to my wagon to rest. When I got off my horse, my bad leg gave under me and I fell, then, to my disgust, found I couldn’t get up again. Everyone crowded about exclaiming and explaining to one another that I’d been practically dead of drowning two days before, and arguing with each other over how I should be looked after. The Romans would have whisked me off to the fort hospital at once, but I refused to allow it, and managed to pull myself back onto my feet, though I had to lean against the side of a wagon to stay there. We had by this time built shelters of wattle and mud daub out from the front of the wagons, put awnings over them, and covered the ground beneath them with straw to give ourselves somewhere warm to sit in the evenings. My men built a roaring fire in front of my own shelter, covered its floor with extra straw and several thicknesses of rugs, and there I sat to get warm. The bodyguard fussed over me like a pack of old women at a childbed, bringing hot compresses for my feet, fetching blankets and pillows, offering cups of warm milk and bowls of beef stew. It was some time before I could persuade them to go away and let me rest. Then I drank the milk and ate the stew, and lay still, looking at the fire and thinking about Pervica. I forgot Arshak, Bodica, and the nagging uncertainty about the Brigantes and the Picts. I realized now why she’d called herself a fool. When she learned I was an officer, she realized that I would be free to marry her, which I couldn’t have done as a common soldier-and she’d at once told herself that it was far too early to worry about such matters and she was a fool to think of it. But she had needed to tell herself that: she was not indifferent to me. I saw her again, standing flushed and angry on the porch of her house, telling me I was obstinate and arrogant, and I was happy.

  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 o
f 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 midstrid
e 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?