“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
The 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.”