Island of Ghosts (24 page)

“Why not?” asked Comittus in surprise.

“Because it’s perfectly true that yesterday afternoon he was too weak to stand and believed that he was lying dead in his tomb. And he had good reason to believe himself dead: when I first saw him, I thought the same. I didn’t pull him back from the grave to see him catapulted into it from a horse’s back.”

I left Farna and came over to her. “Lady Pervica,” I said, “you need not fear that your efforts have been wasted. I can rest on horseback as comfortably as in a bed. And I must return to Cilurnum at once. My men need me.”

“To Cilurnum!” she said, frowning at me. “That’s even worse! It’s farther!” Then she caught her breath. “You’re the prefect at Cilurnum, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly. I am commander of the Sarmatian
numerus
there. My friend Lucius Javolenus Comittus here ought to be prefect, but is called a liaison officer instead. The titles have been changed because of our . . . notoriety.”

She didn’t smile. “And . . . they said you’re a prince? All these men are your subjects?”

“That was how it was when we were in our own country. Here it is different. I ask you to understand, though, why I must leave at once. My brother prince at Condercum died at Roman hands only a few days ago, and my men will have been very alarmed at the news that I was missing. I left Leimanos here, who is commander of my bodyguard, in charge of the rest of my company at the fort. But he believed his first duty was to find me, and has left the rest of the dragon under the command of those whose authority will not master them. I must return at once to reassure them.”

She caught her breath again, angry, astonished, and bewildered. “We can’t possibly accept all the gold your . . . your men have given us. It’s far too much, and I couldn’t justify keeping it. I don’t want money from you.”

“My bodyguard paid Cluim, and you, the debt they owed to their own honor,” I told her. “They were ashamed because they had been unable to defend me themselves and because they had attacked the one who had done it in their place. I could never correct them in something that concerns their honor: you must keep what they gave you. But for my own part, I know only too well that I have given you nothing but thanks.” I took her hand. “And those I give you again, with the promise that my life is at your service.” I kissed the hand, pressed it to my forehead, let go of it, and stepped back. She stared at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “May I come back in a few days to talk about the horse?” I asked her.

“Y-yes,” she said. “Yes, if you like—but you shouldn’t ride today!”

I went back to my horse. I slid the stirrups down the leathers and mounted. “Tell Cluim I regret it that Leimanos struck him,” I said, unfastening the lead rein from Farna’s bridle. “I will see you in a few days. Lady, good health!”

“You obstinate, arrogant man!” she replied. “I pray the gods give
you
good health!”

I looked back at her and smiled. Tirgatao used to talk to me like that. I gave the signal for the bodyguard to mount, bowed to Pervica from the saddle, and trotted away from the farm, leaving her standing on the porch and staring after us, a slim gray figure against the whiteness of the snow.

Pervica had been right to doubt whether I was fit to ride any distance. I could rest comfortably on horseback, as I’d said, but I was shivering with the cold before we’d gone a mile. It didn’t help that I’d lost my hat. Comittus noticed and suggested that we go to Corstopitum after all, and said that we were expected there, but I was concerned about the situation at Cilurnum and anxious to return at once. I sent a Latin-speaking bodyguard to Corstopitum instead, to announce that I was safe and would go there the following day as soon as I’d reassured my men. I borrowed the messenger’s helmet to keep my ears warm.

Comittus asked me several times on that ride whether I was really all right, whether I was chilled, whether we shouldn’t stop and rest a bit. I found it exasperating and answered only by asking him questions about other things. In this way I learned that the Sarmatians in Cilurnum were confined to our camp, very sensibly, and the Asturians to the fort; that my weapons and armor, except for my bow case, were in Corstopitum; that Eukairios was still in Corstopitum; that the legate was also still there; that the fourth dragon was also there; that Farna had been found on the road the evening I disappeared, with my spear in its holder, my sword hung from the saddle, and my armor in its pack behind. My bow case was missing. “Arshak told us that you’d both seen a wild boar,” Comittus said, “and had decided to hunt it. He said he lost you and the boar both in the chase. Why didn’t you bring the spear? Those bows of yours are powerful, but I wouldn’t have thought they’re the gear to use on boars. We’d been imagining you lying wounded, gored by the beast, or perhaps eaten by wolves. How did you end up in the river?”

“I do not remember,” I replied.

But even without remembering, I knew that Arshak was lying. I did remember how we’d argued in Corstopitum, and how we’d set out from Condercum, with Arshak glowering at the road before us: we had not gone hunting. I struggled to remember the missing hours, but they were fogged, and I was left only with the sense of horror at something forgotten. I knew, though, that what had happened was somehow bound up with the legate’s wife, and I hadn’t forgotten that she was Comittus’ kinswoman and that he admired her. I said nothing to him about my doubts. I said nothing to my men, either: if they knew that someone had tried to murder me, they would be out for revenge, and that would only cause trouble. So I let Arshak’s story stand.

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

T
HE  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 of 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.)