Galba nodded. "The situation has been more than a little frustrating for Marcus Flavius. I pretend ignorance about the girl's whereabouts while he fears to even hunt for her. He's wretched about doing nothing and wretched about doing something. He vacillates and broods and blames me, while ignoring letters from Rome seeking news of her plight. What a coward the man is! Given enough time, the duke would relieve him. But events on the Continent mean we don't have that time."
"What do you mean?"
"It's I who am about to be transferred. To Gaul or Spain."
"You?"
"It's the work of the praefectus. He's never trusted me and secretly blames me for the loss of his wife. Never mind that I lost four good men trying to save her."
"From a rendezvous you engineered, Brassidias."
"At your suggestion, Caratacus."
"You didn't warn us those four would come after her."
He shrugged. "I didn't know. There happened to be a conscientious duplicarius that night. When they didn't succeed, I had to punish him for his diligence. I had to pretend surprise."
Arden looked at the tribune curiously. "It doesn't bother you to be ruthless, does it?" It was as if he only now fully realized the menace of the man he was treating with.
"It doesn't bother me to be effective, forced by the jealousies and preferment of lesser men. Marcus hates that I've forgotten more about running the Petriana than he'll ever learn. He's as afraid of me as he is envious. So he's trying to get rid of me, and now, with events changing, the duke seems inclined to listen."
"What events?"
Galba leaned back, savoring his announcement. "The emperor is ill."
"Valentinian? He's been sick for a year."
"But now near death. The appointment of his son Gratian as co-emperor has divided the court. The Germans sense opportunity. Generals are taking the child under their wing and filling his ears with nonsense. Troops are being moved into Gaul as a precaution against invasion or civil war."
"How does this change things for us?"
"I'm to go there because soldiers are being taken from Britannia."
There was a long quiet. Kalin, who'd been so still that Valeria wondered if he'd fallen asleep, had straightened.
"Where from Britannia?" Arden asked with quiet intensity, his posture taut.
"The Wall."
The Celts absorbed the news. "They'd risk that?"
"The duke thinks it insane, but commanders in the south have more influence to hold their troops. The difference is being made up from the Sixth Victrix. Marcus contributed by claiming his raid on the grove suppressed chances of a northern uprising. He even cites the hostage of his wife as evidence of truce! As a reward, the Petriana is being depleted and given twice the length of wall to patrol."
"They think that little of us?"
"You know better than I that the tribes and clans have never acted in concert. The Romans think they can bluff you until the succession is settled. They regard you as a fool, Arden Caratacus."
Arden smiled grimly. "I hope you encourage them to continue that view, tribune."
"Continental transfer be damned! I'm too old, and I've worked too hard, to give up Britannia. By the gods, I gave my life to Britannia, my blood and my sweat, and they've rewarded me with second-place spit. I tried working with that plodding praefectus and buttering his little bitch, and they both disdained me. So I'm half tempted to take their transfer to Gaul and leave Marcus Flavius to roast in one of your wicker cages, screaming as he recognizes his own stupidity."
"We don't roast anybody anymore, Galba."
"Pity. I've persuaded him that you do. But while such a fire would satisfy my emotions, it won't fulfill my goals. So listen. The empire is weak and divided. You've a once-in-a-lifetime chance to wrest Britannia away from Rome. Rally the tribes, advance on the Wall, and you'll cut like a knife through cheese. You can loot your way to Londinium and crown yourself king."
"He's a traitor!" Savia hissed in the hay. Valeria pinched her maid's shoulder. The men didn't hear.
"You'll help us do that?" Arden asked.
"I'll make sure the Petriana doesn't oppose you too strongly."
Arden added charcoal to the fire. "What do you want in return?"
"My own little kingdom, of course."
"The Wall?"
"South of it, among the Brigante tribe. I know those people and can keep them from turning on you Attacotti. I can tell you how to beat the legions. What I want is northern Britannia and a quarter share of the gold you'll loot in Londinium."
"You don't care about your fellow soldiers?"
"The ones I care about will stick to me."
There was silence then, the men regarding each other. Bound by necessity, mistrustful by experience. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"The news about the emperor is no secret, and the transfer of troops not much more of one," Galba said. "Ask your allies. Query your spies. They'll confirm what I've told you. Believe me, Caratacus, at one time I'd have opposed you with all my might. But I've learned that the empire is a place where the best men are passed over and the least rewarded. I despise Marcus Flavius, and I despise the Roman bitch who allowed herself to be used by him for advancement. I want to build a-"
"Stop calling her that." It was flat warning.
"What?"
"Don't call Valeria a bitch."
Galba paused in surprise. Then he grinned. "Ah. I see. That little beauty has gotten to you, too. Why am I surprised? Too bad that initial ambush we arranged on the way to the wedding didn't work as intended. If you'd ambushed them before we were near, you wouldn't have vows in your way."
Valeria sucked in her breath. Galba had intended her abduction all along? He'd conspired with the brigands in the forest from the beginning? Of course! That was how the Celts had known when and where she'd be. That she could ride a horse. He'd maneuvered Clodius into being her lone escort. Had Titus known?
"The gods work in their own strange way," Arden said. "If I'd captured her then, Marcus would have likely lost his posting, and I'd be preparing to fight you, Galba."
"True enough. Still, the wedding-"
"Empty vows are no vows at all. She lives here now."
The tribune snorted. "Until she gets a chance to betray you. Wake up, man! Rut her if you wish, but never forget she's Roman. The purebloods live for intrigue."
"I don't think she's Roman anymore."
"Then you're naive."
"Look. She gave me this." Arden took from a pouch something small and bright. Valeria stiffened and felt Savia do the same.
It was her ring, the one given to her on her wedding night by Marcus. She'd forgotten she'd let him slip it off at Samhain and put it in the golden cup.
Galba recognized it. "By the gods, you've bedded her, haven't you? And she's driven you crazy as a result! Does she taste as good as she looks?"
"Shut up, Thracian pig, or you'll not leave my fort alive." This time the low warning was unmistakable and deadly.
Galba held his hands up in mock apology. "I'm just saying she's an eyeful."
"She has more courage than most men."
"And how many men have courage?" The tribune looked at the ring with interest. "I don't care what you do with her. I wish I had that bauble, though. I'm missing one from my chain of trophies." Valeria heard the clink of his waist belt.
"You're a bastard, Brassidias."
"I'm a survivor. And you'll learn her nature soon enough. Don't be a fool."
"It's you who are the fool, Galba. You who have never loved."
"And how do you know I've never loved?" There was a silence of surprise at the tribune's hurt expression. Indeed, who knew anything about Galba's past?
"I don't," the chieftain conceded. "I just know I love this woman."
Galba burst out laughing. Any tenderness had been a pretense. "Love, love! Fair enough. It's all the Christians talk about, you know, this love they claim."