“I’m so sorry. I’ve upset your friend, haven’t I? I shouldn’t have said anything; she told me never to say anything about you to anyone. But I’ve finally got away from her, and I was so surprised when Marcus Flavius said who you were, and I’m so tired. She cursed you…” The girl trailed off. “I’m sorry,” she finished miserably.
“It is for the best,” I told her. “Rest quietly. We will allow no one to harm you or the little one.” I climbed down from the wagon.
Banadaspos was still there, and others of the bodyguard were joining him. Kasagos and his squadron were up as well: they were all whispering together, explaining to each other what had happened. “.. the legate’s lady…” I caught, “… a witch, a follower of the Lie… fire… her slave… Arshak… no accident…” Facilis was slumped wearily against the side of the wagon. I ached to go back to bed, but I could only stand still and wait for what my men had to say to me. At least, I told myself, it’s Banadaspos, and not Leimanos. The claim the commander of my guard had on me was just that much greater than his deputy’s, and my failure to tell him anything just that much more shocking.
The murmured explanations stopped. “My prince,” said Banadaspos, stepping forward and speaking for them all, “who are your enemies?”
I told them what Bodica was and what she wanted. They listened in silence, though I could tell that they were all very angry, and when I’d finished, they remained silent.
“I do not want a battle with the Romans now,” I said flatly. “My fellow azatani, I relied on you even though I kept secrets from you. You know how I’ve taken you with me even to exercise my horses. Perhaps you thought I was taking precautions against the Picts: now you know better. I trusted you with my life no less than I ever did before-but I didn’t trust you to stay patiently quiet when I was threatened, and that is what is needed. You must show me now that I was wrong to doubt your restraint.”
“What can we do?” asked Banadaspos, now anxious as well as angry.
“What you were doing before,” I replied. “Keep my enemies’ knives out of my back, defend me from the Lie by your prayers and your honesty, and wait. I have hopes now that we’ll get evidence against our enemies, evidence that will ruin and disgrace them. I’ve made alliances and I hope they’ll bear fruit. But if we strike now, we’re the ones who’ll be disgraced, dying at the Romans’ hands with the world reproaching us as oath-breakers and slanderers. I know you’re angry with me, but I both beg and command you: be patient, and keep this quiet!”
“My prince, you can’t blame us for being angry,” said Banadaspos. “Without you, we might as well drag our standard in the mud for all the honor we’d get from anyone. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d have arrived in Cilurnum disarmed and scarcely better than prisoners, and we’d have stayed there when Gatalas mutinied instead of winning the glory of a victory. We’d have lost our wagons, like the other dragons, and we’d have to eat grain and beans like the Romans. We’d be paid shabbily and grub about in debt, and everyone would treat us with contempt. Even the Asturians would boast in front of us! We’ve gloried in how much the legate esteems you, sending for you to advise him on the other dragons; we’ve reveled in the knowledge that even when the other dragons do get the same wages and advantages as us, they owe them to our prince, not their own. And now we learn from a slave that your enemies have nearly murdered you without our even knowing-twice! It disgraces us, my lord, it disgraces us immeasurably. Give us another chance to prove our worth. Please, my prince, though we’ve failed you, trust us now!”
I was astonished. I looked around the group, and when I could see no hint of disapproval for what Banadaspos had said, I was stunned. I had Romanized full tilt, as Facilis had said, but always with a glance backward, painfully aware how far I’d come, anxious that I was leaving my people behind. I should have realized that my men had, as always, followed me every step of the way. In August, for their commander to be summoned by a Roman legate as his esteemed adviser would have been something to be ashamed of; now, not six months later, it was something they gloried in, something they would boast about in front of the other dragons. And probably even in the other dragons, the boast would be treated as real and not an empty sham. They had all seen clearly where honor lay among the Romans, and like true Sarmatians, they’d run after it. I felt ashamed of myself for my stupidity in underestimating them-and I felt acutely and utterly ridiculous.
“My dear friends and kinsmen,” I said, “in all the time you’ve followed me, you’ve never failed me once, let alone twice. You are my glory and my pride, and my chief concern all along has been for your honor and safety, compared to which my own life is a small matter. As I said before, I have no doubt whatever of your loyalty, your courage, or your strength, and I’ve relied on you to preserve my life from the moment I knew it was in danger. All I ask of you now is that you wait with me quietly for evidence that will satisfy the Roman authorities as to my enemy’s guilt. I want no violence, and I want no rumors spread. If we move without proof, the contest is lost. This very night I refused to answer the legate himself when he asked me my enemy’s name: don’t give away what I kept secret. Swear to me now, all of you, that you’ll stay quiet about this until I give you leave to speak.”
“May I speak to Leimanos?” asked Banadaspos, after a moment’s hesitation.
“To him, and to the rest of the bodyguard,” I conceded, “but to no one else.”
They swore it, all of them, stretching out their hands over the embers of the evening fire. Kasagos and his squadron looked smug, and I could only hope they really would stay quiet when we were back in Cilurnum, and not hint to the rest of the dragon that they shared a secret from which the other squadrons were excluded. But at least there’d be no crisis in Eburacum tonight, and I could go back to bed-though not, I found, to my own bed.
“My lord, you must not share a wagon with your enemy’s slave,” Banadaspos declared firmly, as soon as he’d sworn the oath. “Even if she was honestly asking for help when she went to Facilis, it might occur to her that if she murdered you, her mistress would forgive her anything. I will sleep in your wagon tonight, and you take my place in mine. It will be safer, anyway, for you to rest where we can guard you.”
I thought it quite absurd to suggest that Bodica’s poor frightened little slave would put down her baby and knife me, but I owed the bodyguard some respect, and I yielded meekly. When I went over to my wagon with Banadaspos to explain to the girl, Facilis, whom I’d almost forgotten, picked himself up.
“Settled ’em?” he asked me.
I nodded.
He gave a snort of amusement and rapped on the side of the wagon. “Are you still awake, Vilbia?” he asked.
“Yes, Marcus Flavius,” came the sleepy reply.
“Ariantes won’t be in the wagon tonight. His men want him in another wagon where they can keep an eye on him and be sure he’s safe. The one who’ll be sharing this wagon with you is called Banadaspos-so you don’t even have to be afraid of curses. Is that all right?”
“Oh! Oh yes, thank you.”
“Good night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, on the road.” Facilis turned to us and added, in an undertone and to Banadaspos, “The poor little bitch has suffered enough. I hope I can trust you not to take advantage of her.”
“Do not insult me,” Banadaspos whispered back, stiffening.
“Sorry,” said Facilis. “Just my slave-owning suspicious Roman nature.” He turned to go.
“Marcus Flavius,” I said, and he turned back and gave a questioning grunt.
“Perhaps I do not understand how you Romans use lying,” I told him, “but I have just understood that, as liars go, you are a consummate one.”
“To what do I owe that tribute?” he asked.
“We said nothing in Latin about Banadaspos sleeping in the wagon. And you have assured us all the way from Aquincum that you speak no Sarmatian.”
He was silent a moment, then gave a bark of laughter. “The troub
le with you, Prince,” he said, in the most villainously accented Sarmatian I’d ever heard in my life, “is that you do not allow a poor lying centurion to make a mistake once, even in the small hours of a cold night. Sleep well.”
XIV
When I went into my wagon early next morning to collect my armor, I found the slave girl and her baby still asleep, though Banadaspos was up by then. Vilbia lay on her side, huddled under the blankets, a pitifully thin girl with a white exhausted face. Of the baby I could see only the top of a head with a few curling wisps of black hair, cradled on her arm. The rug had slipped loose from on top of them, and I pulled it up; as I did so, I saw the marks on the girl’s bare shoulder. Scar on top of scar, and some of the slashes were new. I remembered that Facilis had said she had given birth only eight days before: she should not have been up at all, let alone beaten for slowness. I straightened the rug and went out, feeling angrier with Bodica than I had since I met her. To try to drown a strong opponent because he might prevent you getting a kingdom where you can practice your religion freely is understandable; to torture a miserable girl who only wants her baby back is unforgivable.
Eukairios arrived a little later to find us harnessing the horses, and was shocked. Although we’d concluded most of the business we’d had in Eburacum, he’d expected us to stay another day at least, to tie up any loose ends and to rest the horses. He’d bought some good parchment and drawn up a manumission document in triplicate, all ready to be signed and witnessed. But he wanted seven witnesses to make things absolutely beyond legal question, preferably mostly Roman citizens, and preferably mostly literate since I was unlettered: it was clear that now he’d have to wait until we were back in Cilurnum. However, he swallowed his disappointment quickly when I explained what had happened at the dinner party, and wrote two letters for me, one to the legate, apologizing for my insubordination and excusing myself, and the other to Siyavak with reassurances and promises of help. I sent one of the bodyguard to the commandant’s house with the first letter, and Eukairios to the Christians with the second, and the rest of us set out at once. I was apprehensive when we rode up to the gates, but we were allowed through without question. When the fortress was safely behind us, I sighed with relief and touched my horse to a canter. Eukairios and the other messenger had to gallop hard to catch up with us.
Facilis didn’t catch up with us until the middle of the morning, when we stopped for a meal at a roadside farm where we could buy some milk.
“You were in a tearing hurry to get away,” he observed, dismounting beside me. “Were you still worried that the legate wasn’t going to let you go?”
I had been worried about precisely that, of course, and he saw it and gave a bark of laughter. The slave girl Vilbia, who’d been hiding in the wagon, heard and recognized that laugh at once, and stuck her head out. “Is that you, Marcus Flavius?” she called.
“It is indeed,” he said genially. “And have you seen where we are, girl?”
She hadn’t-we’d woken her when we harnessed the horses, but she’d crawled under the bunk with the rug over her-and she jumped down from the wagon beaming delightedly. “We’ve escaped!” she exclaimed. She flung her arms about Facilis and kissed him on the cheek. “You got me out! They never even thought of looking for me in that wagon! Oh, Marcus Flavius, thank you; may the gods bless you!”
Facilis grinned and patted her on the back.
Eukairios was staring in shock: he hadn’t known that Vilbia was there. “Isn’t that…” he began.
Someone explained to him what she was doing there, and he shook his head in amazement. After a moment, he started smiling. Someone else brought Vilbia a bowl of warm milk from the farm for her breakfast, with a piece of our bread ration from Eburacum, and she went back into the wagon to be with the baby while she ate.
“You’ve left the fortress as stirred up as if you’d looted it,” Facilis told me, grabbing a piece of bread for himself and sitting down on the drystone wall of the field where we’d halted. “I was up to headquarters first thing this morning, and everyone was suspecting everyone else and cursing you. When I left, Priscus had just got your letter excusing yourself: I think if you hadn’t sent it, he’d have been annoyed enough to have you summoned back.”
“I had no wish to offend him,” I said.
“So you said in your letter. It made him slightly less offended than he would have been otherwise. Publius Verinus has been told to investigate the arson attack on you, though I don’t think he’ll get anywhere. I’ve been detailed to find out about the ritual murder in Corstopitum, and I have letters authorizing me to pursue inquiries. I just hope nobody finds out I’ve stolen my commanding officer’s wife’s slave. Me miserum! ” He took a big bite of the bread.
I nodded, taking my own piece of bread and sitting down beside him. “What will you do with her now?”
“One step at a time!” he replied. He frowned. “I don’t dare keep her in Cilurnum. It’s a small place, I’m known, people may recognize her. Comittus certainly knows her. Corstopitum’s probably a better place for her, though still a bit risky. It’s bigger, and she should be all right if I can find a safe house for her to stay inside. I’d ask your young woman to take her on that farm, but…” He stopped himself.
But he was as unsure of Pervica’s own safety as I was.
“I have a friend in Corstopitum,” said Eukairios, coming over. “He could find somewhere for her to stay.”
“Thank you!” Facilis exclaimed, surprised and pleased. “This is the ‘correspondent’ who sent you that letter about the mutiny, is it? Does he have a house of his own?”
“No, sir. But he’ll know who might be able to arrange things. Would you be prepared to”-he rubbed his fingers together significantly-“if it’s necessary?”
“If it gets the poor little bitch a safe refuge, yes.”
“My friend won’t want any money himself,” Eukairios explained, with some embarrassment. “Not when I tell him there’s a child’s life at stake. But hiding runaway slaves… well, you know how it is.”
“Hercules, Eukairios!” exclaimed Facilis, greatly amused. “Anyone would think you know how it is!”
“Eukairios,” I said, “do you have the tablets we were given yesterday?”
He nodded, becoming all at once very tense and unhappy. “Yes, my lord. I… looked at them last night. They… they contain at least one very unpleasant surprise.”
“Fetch them now,” I ordered.
He went off. Facilis looked at me suspiciously. “This is the result of the ‘plotting with strangers’ your men were so worked up about last night?”
“Yes. You have authority, you say, to pursue inquiries. I have information that might help. I cannot give it to you directly, though. I swore on fire that I would not show these tablets to the authorities, as most of the people whose names are written on them are innocent of any wrongdoing but would still suffer if their sympathies were known.”
“Whose are the names, then?”
“I have not had time to read them. It is a list of known druids, together with those who have helped them and the places they have hidden.”
“Jupiter Optimus Maximus! How on earth…” He stared at me in disbelief. “Is it from Siyavak?”
I shook my head. “When I hear from him, I hope to end the contest. This merely begins it.”
Banadaspos’ eyes lit up.
“Then how in the name of all the gods…”
Eukairios came back with the tablets. He stood holding them under one arm, looking at Facilis apprehensively. If Facilis used the list openly, the druids would probably realize where it came from, and then Eukairios and the Christians would suffer in turn.
“Very well,” Facilis said, swallowing his astonishment. “I won’t ask how you got them. I won’t ask to see them. I won’t charge anybody just because they’re on that list. I’ll simply go and visit them privately, with you, if you like, and use my authority to search for evidence. There’s no point
me swearing it on fire, because I’m no Sarmatian, but I promise you solemnly not to abuse your sources, and may the gods destroy me in the worst way if I do. Does that satisfy you?”
I nodded. I didn’t trust him not to break his oath, but I did trust him to honor mine and to avoid cruelty.
“What’s the nasty surprise, then?” Facilis growled, turning to Eukairios. “Who’s on the list?”
The scribe opened the tablets and looked down them, and set his finger against one entry. When he spoke, it was in a low voice that even the rest of our party, eating their bread and drinking their milk a few feet away, could not hear. “There is the name of a man believed to be from the city of Lindum, who came to Eburacum about a year ago, and has been active among the druids there on occasions since. The name, as reported here, is Comittus son of Tasciovanus. He is described as a young man, and believed to be an army officer.”
“Hercules!” whispered Facilis; “Marha!” exclaimed Banadaspos.
“The only thing I’m not sure of is the patronymic,” said Eukairios. “ ‘Javolenus’ is, of course, a Roman family name, and would not be used for… religious purposes. Lindum as origin is, I believe, correct, and the time matches.”
“It makes sense,” whispered Facilis. “He’s had one foot in the British camp all along, his cousin got him his place, and he admires her. He always swears by the divine Mothers and Maponus and the other old gods of the Britons. It fits horribly well.”
“Do the tablets say if he follows the extreme sect?” I asked.
“No,” replied Eukairios, closing them. “That detail’s been included when it’s known-but usually our… informants… wouldn’t know that.”
Lucius Javolenus Comittus. You can call me Comittus, because you’re not a Roman either. I remembered him smiling as he praised Bodica, and weeping over the Picts. I also remembered him lending me his horse, and making room for me on his couch in Dubris, and vouching for me to the legate-and arriving at River End Farm with Leimanos, overjoyed to see me still alive. And I remembered, with sudden uncomfortable vividness, his misery when the news of the cursing tablet reached Cilurnum, and his hesitant attempts, repeated attempts, to talk to me about it-attempts I, in my distress over Pervica, brushed impatiently aside.
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