Island of Ghosts

by Gillian Bradshaw

  “Consider?” demanded Facilis. “Your gods are the sort, then, who leave such matters open to question?”

  Comittus shook his head, lower lip trembling like a child’s. “We’ve been persecuted for a long time, Marcus,” he protested wretchedly. “When people have hurt you, it’s natural to hate them. I haven’t suffered myself, so I can’t condemn… that is, I don’t say it’s right, but… but can’t you understand?”

  I was sure Facilis understood perfectly, but he showed no sign of it. He cursed Comittus for a traitor and a hypocrite. Then he whipped out the writing leaf with the list of suspected ringleaders. The evidence of how much we knew shook Comittus so badly I thought for a moment he would faint, but still he did not want to speak, though he eventually confirmed two of the names in a voice thick with distress. One name was Cunedda’s.

  Facilis pounced. “The archdruid,” he said contemptuously. “The Brigantian poisoner who dreams of dragons fighting, the man the person at the head of all this chose as chief adviser. Yes, of course we know who the leader of this conspiracy is! We know where that person is; where is this Cunedda?”

  Comittus began to cry again.

  “You know,” said Facilis mercilessly. “He’s one of the friends who asked you questions about Ariantes, isn’t he? And he’s the one who sent you a message after the curse, trying to arrange a meeting, isn’t he?”

  Comittus nodded.

  “You know what he wanted then, don’t you? His curse wasn’t working, so he wanted you to help him murder the prince. Just think of that! If you’d gone along with that, you could have painted this fort with blood. Gods and goddesses! He’s a murderer, Lucius, and by your own reckoning he’s a blasphemer as well. Why are you protecting him? You say you think he’s wrong. Who’s going to believe that when you try so hard to shield him? You’re in trouble anyway: why should you make your own sufferings worse to protect him? Come on! If he proposed a meeting, he must have told you where you could reach him. Where was it?”

  Choking, almost unintelligible with grief, Comittus named a place, then covered his face and doubled over sobbing.

  It was enough, and I finally put a stop to his misery. “Comittus,” I said, “the authorities do not know your name and we will not betray it to them.”

  Comittus uncovered his face and stared, first at me, then at Facilis.

  Facilis gave me a look of intense annoyance, then sighed and nodded. “I’ve been given the responsibility for investigating that sacrificial murder,” he said, “and the only people I want punished for it are the guilty ones. You and these convocation-calling friends of yours weren’t there and I’m not going to bother you.”

  At this Comittus wept again and thanked us, clutching all our hands. We left him in his house to calm down and went across to headquarters to discuss what to do next.

  Eukairios was waiting in the commander’s office, his three sheets of parchment sitting on the desk, rolled neatly and tied with a cord. “The mysterious document!” observed Longus, but the usual facetious words were spoken in a voice uncharacteristically tired and unhappy. “I hope it’s not another nasty surprise, Ariantes.”

  I shook my head. “It’s Eukairios’ manumission. How many witnesses do we have here at headquarters?”

  Facilis gave a bark of laughter. “I should have guessed it. Eukairios could have invested in a red hat months ago.”

  “A red hat?” I asked, puzzled.

  “A freedman’s hat,” explained Longus. “He puts it on and everyone knows to congratulate him. A red hat with a peak. Like yours, but a little floppier and without the earflaps.”

  “Like mine?” I demanded, horrified: had I been wearing a hat that marked me as a freed slave?

  Longus and Facilis both began laughing. “Oh gods, Ariantes, didn’t you know?” said Longus, forgetting his unhappiness. “No, I suppose not! Nobody dared say anything.”

  I took my hat off. They both laughed again.

  “Ariantes, nobody in their right mind ever mistook you for a freedman,” Longus told me. “Nobody. The thought of you as a slave-it’s like that play where the god Apollo gets made the slave of some Thracian as a penance, and his master runs around fetching things for him. And that hat isn’t really the right shape-it’s just that it’s red.”

  I shook my head. I would have to buy a hat of some other color. “Do you need a red hat?” I asked Eukairios.

  He began laughing as well, but stopped himself. “Yes, my lord. I hadn’t bought one, in case it brought me bad luck.”

  I handed him mine. “Let us sign the document, and then you can put it on.”

  He unrolled the document and read it out, and I signed it, in triplicate (“You make your mark there, my lord, and I write ‘Unlettered’ here ”), and after me Facilis, Longus, four Asturians who were working in the headquarters as clerical staff, and Leimanos, who’d come down to see if I’d finished with Comittus. Then Eukairios put on the hat, looking pink as a girl who’s just been kissed, and everyone shook his hand and congratulated him. When it was my turn to shake his hand, he clutched my hand in both of his-then dropped it, flung his arms around me, and hugged me like a long-lost brother. “Thank you,” he shouted, “Patron!” He was shaking with joy.

  I had no heart then to discuss druids with Facilis, or mislead Longus about what I knew. I told Eukairios to go buy himself a drink, then told the others that I was going to visit Pervica. I wanted to tell her my dream. Leimanos left headquarters with me.

  When we had collected our horses and were riding down the Via Decumana to the south gate, I remembered the other piece of important business I had to conduct that day. “Leimanos,” I said, “has Banadaspos told you everything that happened in Eburacum, and at River End Farm?”

  He stiffened, and his horse laid back its ears. “Yes, my lord,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry we didn’t defend you better.”

  “I have no complaint against you in anything. I spoke because I want to send a messenger to Condercum.”

  He looked into my face and smiled, but I could see his knuckles whitening on the reins. An insult to his commander, even given through the commander’s betrothed, was an insult to him. He’d had enough of Romanizing and restraint, of secrets and conspiracies: he wanted battle, and his honor avenged. But he knew that Arshak was a dangerous opponent, and he was afraid for me. “My prince,” he said, very softly and humbly, “may I ask you to send me?”

  He was taking a position of danger himself, offering to ride into Condercum and speak defiance to Arshak. Arshak’s men might resent what he said even if their commander didn’t. But it was also the position of honor, and I’d known that he would ask for it. I reached out and touched his hand. “Who else would I send, kinsman?” I asked him, and he smiled again.

  I settled to the details. “Take the first ten of the bodyguard with you, and make sure you get guarantees of safe conduct before you enter the fort. I don’t think Arshak would injure you, but I don’t know now, he’s not what he was before. Don’t tell the Romans anything. None of the Roman officers in Condercum even realize we’ve quarreled, and it’s better to keep it that way: speak in front of them as though you were bringing Arshak a friendly invitation to go hunting.”

  He nodded. “And to Arshak I should say?”

  “Say to him, ‘Son of Sauromates, when I met you on the road, I told you I would meet you whenever you wished. You had no cause to ride to Corstopitum to hurl a few cheap and ridiculous words at a noble lady you had never met, as though I would be timid unless I were provoked. Stop behaving like a herdsman, leave off your attempts to murder me through the hands of your lying and treacherous allies, and come meet me like a prince.’ ”

  Leimanos’ eyes glowed, and he tapped out the signal for the charge on his saddle. “That’s the way to speak, my lord!” He repeated the message twice to make sure he had it, elaborating it slightly each time, and grinned.

  “Though when we come to the arrangements,” I confessed, “he cannot possib
ly meet me like a prince. The Romans would arrest us both if they knew we meant to fight. Make it clear to him that it’s going to take ten days or so to set things up, and that if we’re indiscreet, we’ll lose our chance. I’m not in too great a hurry. I expect to be able to move against his allies soon, and it will be much the best if I fight him with their ruin hanging over him, whatever the outcome of our meeting. Then even his triumph would be clouded and short-lived.”

  Leimanos grinned even wider. “It’s good to see you like this, my lord. Almost like the old days. You remember the message you sent Rhusciporis when we got back from Segedunum?”

  I had flaunted a successful raid to a rival at home. But this was something more serious, though I used the same kind of bold language. I nodded and made no comment. “Look out for a good place to meet on your way to and from Condercum. We need somewhere off the road, somewhere we won’t be seen by casual passersby, but it will have to have enough space for the horses. Suggest to Arshak that we each bring our bodyguard to the meeting, but leave the rest of our men behind-too many onlookers and the Romans will come searching for us. All the squadron leaders should be informed beforehand, though, and be made to swear that the contest will end with the death of one or both contenders. There must be no attempts at revenge and nothing that will cause trouble with the Romans.”

  Leimanos nodded, but he was frowning now. We had come out the south gate by then, and had reached Flavina’s house; I reined in by the front door.

  “What will the Romans do afterward?” he asked, in a low voice.

  I shrugged and spread my hands. “I don’t know. If Arshak has been exposed as a traitor already, they may not punish me. They will probably arrest me, though. And Leimanos, I will want you, and the bodyguard, and all who follow me, to bear that quietly. I’ll require oaths from you on that, too.”

  He was silent.

  “Even Gatalas required that from his men,” I said.

  “But not from his bodyguard.”

  “He meant to die in battle against the Romans. I don’t.”

  He sighed. “I can swear to bear it quietly if they arrest you for killing Arshak, my lord. I cannot swear to stand by and do nothing if they decide to execute you for it.”

  “Leimanos, you are my heir. You know what I want.”

  He shook his head, and suddenly pressed both hands to his ears, covering them to show that he would not listen. “You want the honor and safety of the dragon. But I’m not you, my lord. You were a scepter-holder, and you had no son or brother to inherit the scepter. If you’d petitioned the king, he would have granted you the right to stay in our own country, granted it freely, and I would have been left to take the dragon to Aquincum in your place. You chose to give the scepter to your sister’s son, instead, and come yourself, because you were our prince and we relied on you. We all know that, and we’ve been glad of it a hundred times over. I will not swear to stand by and watch the Romans execute you.”

  I was silent a minute. I had underestimated them all again. No one had ever said to me, “You could have stayed at home,” and I’d thought that that realization had been mine alone. But my motives for coming had not been as pure as Leimanos seemed to think. I reached over and pulled one of his hands away from his ear. “That you relied on me was only one of the reasons,” I told him quietly. “I had others.”

  He nodded. “And I know those, too, my lord-no wagon to ride home to, and imagined guilt because our raids helped to start the war. But the fact remains that you might be a prince and scepter-holder still, wealthy and powerful and able to choose a wife from among a kingdom of widows-and instead, you’re here. If you die in combat, I must accept that as the will of God. But I will not accept it otherwise. I swear it on fire.”

  I let go and sat staring at him for a moment; he stared angrily back. I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “Well,” I said. “Well, chances are that either I will die in combat, or that the Romans will agree that Arshak was guilty of treason and do nothing to punish me. So long as you don’t start shooting if they arrest me, I’ll have to be content. And I’ve had a good omen, Leimanos. I met Tirgatao in a dream last night, and she said that she met Marha when she was in the fire, and that she begged my life from him. She said she gave it now to Pervica. I believe it was a true dream and that I will live to marry again.”

  His eyes opened, very wide and blue. Then he raised his right hand toward the sun. “I pray it was true, my lord! She’d come whole out of the fire, then, by Marha’s kindness?”

  “I met her in a meadow full of flowers, and the children were with her. The baby as well. And there was another thing in it that will please you: she gave me a dragon to carry me back to this earth, and it was our dragon, our standard.”

  Leimanos grinned. “I accept the omen!” he cried, raising his hand again.

  “It pleased me too,” I said. “I’m going to tell it to Pervica. If I had a kingdom of widows to choose from, Leimanos, I don’t think I could choose better than I’ve chosen here.”

  “She is a brave and noble lady,” he agreed, much happier now. “Give her my regards. I must go now and collect the men. We’ll have to set out soon if I’m to reach Condercum today. I can tell Banadaspos what you’ve said?”

  “Yes. Go with good fortune then, kinsman.”

  He grinned, made his horse dance as he turned it, and galloped back up the road.

  When I had tethered my horse by the house, I found that Pervica and Flavina both had been watching us through the shutters.

  “Wasn’t that your captain Leimanos you were talking to?” asked Flavina, ushering me into the house. “Where’s he off to in such a hurry?”

  “I had an errand for him,” I replied. “He sends his regards.” I had no intention of discussing Arshak in front of her, either: she’d be sure to tell her brother.

  Pervica remained in the doorway a minute, looking anxiously northward after Leimanos. “You were talking very seriously.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I had a dream last night which I have taken as an omen. It was of great concern to you, so I have come to tell it to you.” At this she looked so worried that I smiled and added, “It was a good dream.”

  Like me, and like Leimanos, she liked the dream and was cheered by it. Flavina, who remained with us the whole time I was there, to guard Pervica’s reputation, was also impressed by it, particularly Tirgatao’s instructions to Pervica to tease me. “But that’s exactly the sort of thing someone might really say!” she exclaimed. “Did she tease you?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Always. We first met when she beat me in a horse race, and she always said that I married her to get the horse.” I realized as I spoke that it was the first time since she died that I’d been able to think of Tirgatao without being tormented by the image of her burning, to remember her as she was, laughing and alive.

  Flavina giggled. Pervica put her hand over her mouth. “What happened to the horse? Did you bring it with you?”

  It was an unfortunate question. “Ask the Second Pannonian Cavalry,” I replied bitterly.

  “The Sec… What do they have to do with it?”

  “It was Tirgatao’s favorite horse, and she had it at our own wagon when she was killed. The Second Pannonians drove it off with the rest of the cattle.”

  “Oh!” said Pervica, going white. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t even know… I thought she’d died naturally. You hadn’t said.”

  I hadn’t said, to her, and stared a moment in amazement, realizing suddenly how little we knew of each other. I would have to tell her one day how Tirgatao had died. But there was enough death about without darkening the day with that now.

  It was Flavina who broke the uncomfortable silence. “It’s hard to remember that you used to be…” she began, then stopped herself. “I was going to say, ‘on the other side of the Wall.’ But it was the other side of the Danube, wasn’t it? Gaius says your men are always boasting of what they did on raids. It just seems very odd to think o
f you doing that.”

  “It seemed the natural thing at the time,” I replied.

  “Why?” asked Pervica. She, too, must have realized how little we knew of each other, because she leaned forward a little on the couch, watching me intently. “I can’t imagine raiding seeming natural to you.”

  “Things are different on the other side of that river,” I told her. “My reasons for raiding seemed good to me at the time. I needed goods, and there they were across the Danube. Everyone always praised the daring and skill of any commander bold enough to go and take them, and I needed a reputation in war even more than I needed goods.”

  “Why did you need goods and a military reputation?” asked Pervica.

  “Oh, that is complicated!”

  “Go on!” She was smiling now. “Tell me!”

  I hesitated, then yielded and spread my hands. “My father, Arifarnes, had an enemy called Rhusciporis, with whom we had a dispute over grazing rights in the summer pastures. The king, of course, does not like his scepter-holders to have disputes with one another, as it weakens the nation, but he does not like to offend any of them that are powerful. He would not adjudicate the matter, and it dragged on and on. Then one day Rhusciporis attacked my father when he was out inspecting the herds of a dependant, and they fought. Rhusciporis triumphed and took my father’s head for a trophy. My father had no brothers to inherit from him and no sons but me-and I was out of the country. With no one to hold the scepter, my family had to agree to accept a blood price for my father’s life, and made a compact of peace with his murderer. They could not even demand the head back: Rhusciporis kept it, and made the skull into a drinking cup, which is a custom of ours with enemies who matter to us. When my mother and sisters had sworn the peace, Rhusciporis took the matter of the grazing rights back to the king, and the king decided in his favor-I was still out of the country, and anyway, I was barely eighteen at the time, so he had no concern about offending me.”