Roma Mater

by Poul Anderson

  Unsurprised, she nodded. ‘Can you guess why?’

  ‘Well, you are the closest of the Nine to the mundane affairs of the city. Quinipilis doubtless was once, but her years are upon her. The rest have their special interests. For yours, you occupy yourself with business of the Temple corporation. You are often in conference with Soren Cartagi, who’s not only Speaker for Taranis but a power in the economy and politics of Ys. Hannon Baltisi, too, Lir Captain – you’ve taken a lead in reconciling them with me, or to me. In that it’s helped that you have more knowledge of the Roman world than perhaps anyone else among your people. Were you a man, Lanarvilis, I’d call you a statesman.’

  ‘You cannot, simply because I am a woman?’ she said in an undertone. Promptly, aloud: ‘Your words do me honour, my lord. Aye, the Sisterhood did feel I might best represent them this eventide – not least because I am, as you know, favourable to Rome. Rome has given civilization so much – the Roman peace –’

  As her voice trailed away, he added, That peace which is falling apart, but which I hope to help restore.’

  True. Therefore ’twas felt we should talk freely, you and I. Tell me, for you’ve been taciturn about it, what your plans are for your journey.’

  ‘If I’ve said little,’ he replied carefully, ‘’twas on account of there being little to say. How can I lay plans ere I’ve learned, in detail, what the actual circumstances are? ’Twould be scant use sending Ysan agents unaccompanied. No matter how honest their intentions, they could never quite see, quite understand.’

  She smiled. ‘I do, at any rate to the extent of agreeing ’tis a Roman military man who must go. But can you say somewhat of your aims afterwards?’

  He had no hesitation about that, and the meal passed in conversation as good as with Bodilis – not the same, largely down-to-earth, but scarcely less intelligent. The wine flowed more readily than either of them noticed.

  – Her bedchamber adjoined a room of blue carpeting, crimson drapes, furniture with inlays of walrus ivory and upholstery of leather. There they went for dessert – honeycakes, spiced fruit, a sweet Falernian to drink – and private talk prior to retiring. They sat together, leaning against the cushions on a couch that had a back, the refreshments on a low table before them. He rested an arm across that back, hand on the warmth and smoothness of her shoulder. She leaned close to him. Several beeswax candles burned; their light picked out the fine lines in her brow and radiating from her eyes, the mesh across the skin beneath her throat; and the flesh under her chin had started to sag; yet she was a handsome woman.

  ‘Your scheme looks sound to me,’ she said softly. ‘I will so tell my Sisters, and we’ll ask the Gods to favour your enterprises.’

  ‘You can do better than that,’ he responded. ‘You can work on the secular powers, Suffetes, Guilds, aye, common folk. If Ys is to take the lead in Armorica that duty calls for, and reap the rewards that faithful service calls for, Ys must be whole-hearted about it.’

  ‘What can I… we … do?’

  ‘Persuade them. Make them see ’tis their destiny. You, Lanarvilis, you could begin with Soren Cartagi –’ He felt her stiffen. ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Oh, naught.’ She leaned forward, took up her goblet, drank deep. Staring before her: ‘Soren is an honourable man.’

  ‘Did I say otherwise? Look you, I’ve always regretted it when we’ve been at odds. I cannot think why. He’s learned, able, aye, and a patriot. He should know where the real welfare of Ys lies. For myself, I’m willing to yield on many matters. But if I seek discussion, he soon breaks it off. What is it that makes him clash with me, over and over? Can you, his friend, milden him?’

  ‘I can try.’ Again she took a long drink, before turning her head and saying, eye to eye: ‘But you do us, your Queens, an injustice. You never trouble to imagine how we already labour for you.’

  Caught short, he had no better return than, ‘What? Well, I know you pray, and … and you tell me ’tis your doing I am here, although –’

  ‘Nay, more than that, and more. But I verge on secrets.’ Lanarvilis brought her attention back to the cup. Her laugh was uneven. ‘Desist. We’ve been political quite long enough, and morning comes far too early, and you must be away and I to my penance. Let us be happy while we may.’

  ‘Your penance?’ he asked sharply. ‘What mean you?’

  She bit her lip. ‘I misspoke me.’

  Concern rose in him. During these past difficult months she had been steadfast, neither toadying nor accusing, just quietly going about her work on behalf of the city and its Gods. Her spirit was a soldier’s. ‘Dear, tell me. Is aught amiss?’

  Yea!’ she flung forth. ‘And we must set it aright, we, the Nine. As soon as you are gone … certain austerities begin.’

  ‘But what is the matter?’ he pleaded. ‘I should know, that I may help. I am the King.’

  Metal rang: ‘You are the King. A man. Do you admit me into your mystery of Mithras? Then ask no more about this.’

  He took a while to say, unwontedly humble, ‘So be it. However, here I am, and here I will be again. Always feel free to call upon me.’

  ‘Oh, Grallon – Gratillonius!’ She put down her cup and cast arms about his neck. Her breath was heady with wine. ‘Enough, I said. Let’s forget all else and be only ourselves. Surely we’ve earned that much.’

  – Very late, as lamps were flickering low, he raised himself on an elbow and looked down at her where she lay half asleep. Drowsiness crept over him too. But the thoughts, the images stole by behind his eyes, before his soul. Of the seven who were fully his wives, might this be the strangest?

  Dahilis, of course, was purely loving. Maldunilis enjoyed, in her lazy and slipshod fashion, and was in truth not a bad person. Bodilis was … comradely, altogether a woman when they embraced but otherwise a friend who had a great deal to impart; between him and her he felt bonds of loyalty growing like those between him and his father or him and Parnesius or – With Innilis he came to the frontier of enigma. She was sweet, acceptant, sometimes responsive, delighted to be bearing his child … and beyond her defences he glimpsed a shadow, a thing which he could not bring himself to ask about because he was afraid of hurting her. Vindilis seemed (though what was a seeming worth?) a little more comprehensible, whatever wounds she bore being encased in armour, out of sight and never bespoken. About anything else she talked with him like man to man; that included their joinings, where they had found ways which suited him sufficiently and left her, well, not disgusted. Forsquilis – He had looked forward to spending this night beside Forsquilis. Whether or not it was true that a King was powerless except among the Nine, Gratillonius must needs keep abstinent on his coming travels, since Ysans as well as legionaries would accompany him. Forsquilis might actually have made him welcome such a rest. He knew she was the deepest into the unknown of all the Gallicenae; but whenever they were alone, that soon ceased to make any difference.

  Lanarvilis, though – He lowered his head to brush lips across the down that covered her cheek, as soft as moonlight. She had learned how to take her pleasure with him, as she took it with her home, art collection, food and drink, the spectacles and recreations and social occasions which Ys so abundantly offered. As for her work in administration and statecraft, doubtless she had a strong sense of duty, but doubtless it was also something she enjoyed, perhaps in the same way as he enjoyed making a piece of craftsmanship grow between his hands. Then what was lacking in her life? From time to time Gratillonius had caught a sense of terrible emptiness. This, too, was a thing about which he did not venture to ask.

  She stirred beneath his caress. ‘You are a good man,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll do my best, for you and your Rome.’

  XXIII

  1

  The Black Months were upon Armorica. As Midwinter drew nigh, day shrank to little more than a glimmer between two huge darknesses, the sun wan and low and oftenest lost in leaden clouds or icy rain. Weather slowed the last stage of journeying, a
nd dusk had fallen when Gratillonius saw Ys again from the heights of Point Vanis. It sheered sharp athwart the tarnished argency of the sea. Beyond, mists drifted past the pharos flame, the sole star aloft.

  He reined in to give the headstone of Eppillus a Roman salute. Metal clinked, leather creaked, horses snorted wearily at his back. ‘Dress ranks!’ he heard Adminius bark. ‘We’ll enter in style, we will.’ With a rattle of shields and stamp of hobnails, the soldiers obeyed, also the Ysan marines who reinforced them. The deputy had extended his authority over those, not overtly as against their own officer, but by sheer weight of example on the march.

  If there had been no trouble, quite likely that was thanks to the sight of disciplined troops. Saxon pirates had ended their raiding till spring, but the woods housed Bacaudae the year around – ever more numerous, it was said, and certainly apt to be desperate in this season.

  Gratillonius turned downhill. The horse of Bomatin Kusuri came alongside. He had represented Ys before the Imperials of Armorica. Well qualified he was, Mariner delegate to the Council of Suffetes: more than that, a man reasonably young and entirely vigorous, himself a skipper whose trading and occasional slaving voyages had made him the familiar of folk from Thule to Dàl Riata. Gratillonius and he got along well.

  ‘Ha!’ he said in his bluff fashion. ‘Is it a true parade when nobody’s out to watch? Well, I’m as glad of that. Best to arrive quietly.’

  Gratillonius glanced at him. In the murk he saw only the hulking body, the flamboyant sweep of moustaches; barbarian-bestowed tattoos were shadowed. ‘I daresay you’re eager for hearth and bed.’

  ‘Well, now, my lord, between the twain of us – mind you, I say naught against my wife, she’s a fine woman, though I could wish she’d nag me less to put on her kind of airs – but as long as we are coming in unheralded – Should she ever ask, would you tell her I had work to clear away, and therefore lodged this night in Dragon House?’

  ‘But there’s nothing we can’t take care of tomorrow.’

  ‘Save for a bit of sport, without getting jawed for it afterwards. We’ve been going hard, this trek. For safe return, methinks I should make a thank offering to Banba.’ That fertility Goddess had, in Ys, become the patroness of harlots. ‘Pour Her a libation or two, haw!’

  Gratillonius frowned. Lying went against his grain as well as his faith. However, the chance was slight that Bomatin’s wife would ever inquire of him, no matter how much she tried to shine by reflection from the King.

  ‘You, my lord, have a choice ready for you –’ The seaman checked himself. ‘Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. ’Tis but that we’ve fared and worked shoulder by shoulder all this while, you never throwing your weight around more than necessary. I’ve sometimes forgotten you’re also the Incarnation of Taranis.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Gratillonius, relieved. He would have hated to give a reprimand or, worse, a cut of the vinestaff. Yet if he did not maintain the dignity of the King, could he remain effective as prefect? He had two dozen legionaries to support his governance of a city ancient, proud, and secretive. It was not what he had awaited when he left Isca Silurum, ages agone.

  ‘We did a good job,’ Bomatin said. After a silence broken just by clopping hoofs and thudding feet, surf on reefs and cliffs as they neared the water: ‘Did we not?’

  ‘The future will tell,’ said Gratillonius, which ended talk.

  Riding onwards, he found his own mind less on what had happened than on what lay ahead. Immediately ahead. Had he entered by daylight he would have gone straight to Dahilis. No, the dear lass would have come forth to meet him, running as fast as the weight within allowed, laughing and weeping for joy. But she was doubtless asleep, or ought soon to be, and rousing her might be a little risky, now when her time approached …

  The sentries at High Gate, and up in the Gaul and the Roman, cried hail. ‘Quiet,’ Gratillonius ordered. ‘No sense in a tumult. Everything went well. Tomorrow in the Forum I’ll tell the people. Tonight we’re wearied and need our rest.’

  He left his horse to the military grooms, bade his men farewell as became a commander, and walked off, still in wet cloak and muddied centurion’s outfit. Windows gleamed here and there, out of surrounding houses or aloft in towers. Even nowadays, when oil had become costly, Ysans liked to keep late hours; they would burn tallow if they must. Despite gloom rapidly congealing to night, broad Lir Way was easy to walk on, and when he turned off in the direction of Elven Gardens, Dolphin Lane was so known to him that he walked its narrow, wall-enclosed twistiness with never a stumble.

  Glass was aglow at the house of Bodilis. He banged the knocker, which was in the form of a fouled anchor, blurred by centuries of hands (and what had each of those callers been seeking?). It was no surprise that she opened the door herself. She usually let her servants go home when they had cleaned up after a supper simple and early. Then she was likely to stay awake far into the night, reading, writing, creating.

  What caught at Gratillonius’s throat was how beautiful she was. A blue robe, wrapped around and held by a sash, hugged the full but still graceful figure. Her hair fell in soft and lustrous waves past the broad, blunt, alive countenance and eyes that were like Dahilis’s. Lamplight and beeswax candlelight from behind could only touch a curve, a tress, the hands that reached forth, but somehow he saw. ‘Oh, you, you,’ breathed the husky voice, ‘welcome home, beloved!’

  He embraced her, mouth to mouth, till he heard a slight gasp and realized he was straining her breasts too hard against his coat of mail. He eased his grip, let palms rove across shoulders, back, hips, while the kiss went on.

  ‘Come in,’ she said finally, let him by, and closed and barred the door behind them. ‘How are you? What have you … what have you accomplished, King?’

  ‘I am well.’ He glanced down at himself and snorted a laugh. ‘Though mired and sweaty and, in general, unfit for polite company … Dahilis! How fares she?’

  ‘Excellently.’

  ‘A-a-ah-h-h.’

  Bodilis hesitated. ‘I took for granted you’d seek her first.’

  He felt his face grow warm. ‘We arrived later than we foresaw. Best leave her undisturbed. I knew you’d tell me the truth.’

  Bodilis laughed, low in her throat. ‘And once any fears for her were allayed – why, you’ve been long on the road.’

  He gave her a crooked grin, ‘I have that.’

  Her eyelids drooped. ‘’Tis been long for me too.’

  He strode forward. She fended him off, playfully, seductively. ‘Nay, wait half a heartbeat! Would you not like refreshment first? You wouldn’t? Then let’s at least remove your armour and wash you clean. I’ll enjoy doing that.’

  – They lay on their sides, close together, each with a hand on the haunch of the other. As yet they felt no need to draw up the blankets. Recklessly many lamps illuminated her in gold. Outside, rain had begun, a susurrus against the shutters.

  ‘Aye, on the whole, things have continued as erstwhile in Ys,’ she said. ‘Well, poor Innilis has been having a bad time, as she did when carrying Hoel’s child. Sickness, pains – but no worse than before, if we remember aright, and the first birth is commonly the hardest, and we Sisters have been taking care of her. I think – if you seek her out tomorrow as a friend, simply a friend … that will cheer her much.’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘Of course. You are you.’ Bodilis’s expression intensified. ‘She needs every help she can get. This solstice she takes Vigil on Sena.’

  ‘What?’ asked Gratillonius, bemused. ‘I thought … on the quarter days … all the Gallicenae were here.’

  ‘Hitherto true. But the age born of Brennilis is dying, and –’ Bodilis laid fingers across his lips. ‘Search no further. This is a thing that must be, that Ys may live.’

  Chill struck through him. She sensed it, smiled, flowed nearer. ‘’Tis well, not ill. A duty to carry out, like standing on the Wall. Surely you’ve overcome worse hazards this trip. Te
ll me.’

  He hung back. She nibbled his earlobe. ‘Oh, do, Gratillonius. I’m afire with curiosity.’

  He became eager to oblige. It was a line of retreat from that which had no name. And this was Bodilis whom he had sought, Bodilis, because she was the one who could both meet his body’s needs and then discourse widely and deeply – more so than he could always follow, but that was itself a rousing challenge – He set Innilis aside.

  The tale goes on and on, like the miles,’ he said. ‘I’ve kept a daily record which I want you to read, if you’ll overlook my lame language. For now, though – you’re not sleepy? Well, let’s bring in some wine and lie at ease while we talk. Interrupt me whenever you wish.’

  She did, in questions and comments that heightened his own understanding of what he had seen and done; but mostly she led him on. The story came forth of his march to sad Vorgium, which had once been prosperous as Ys; to Condate Redonum, where he privily broached ideas for putting the Frankish laeti in their place; south as far as Portus Namnetum and Condovincum, to consider mutual assistance between the hinterland resources of those neighbouring cities and the navy of Ys; back north to Ingena and thence along the route he had followed earlier, until he branched off it to visit the tribune in charge at Gesocribate –’On the whole, we reached agreements in principle. ’Twill take years to build the machinery and get it working properly, I know. Still, we’ve made a fair start.’

  ‘You have,’ she murmured, and again her caresses went seeking.

  2

  Vindilis had moved in with Innilis. None thought the worse of this, or even of their sharing a bed. The younger woman was so often ill and in pain; she should not be left to servants who loved her but were ignorant and clumsy about such matters. In truth, nothing untoward happened, as weak as Innilis had become, beyond kisses, and those grew to be as between mother and child.