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In fact, I didn’t need to think up an excuse to take me to Eburacum. The legate left for the fortress next morning, taking his men and the fourth dragon with him, but before he set out he sent me a letter asking me to visit him early in January to discuss plans about the horses “and some other matters that have come up.”
I was pleased at the invitation, though slightly apprehensive about the “other matters.” I resolved to visit River End Farm as soon as possible, to give Pervica plenty of time to decide her response to the stud farm idea.
By this time, it was the middle of December, approaching the solstice, which we Sarmatians celebrate as Sada, the feast of the winter fire. The Romans celebrate a festival at about the same time, the Saturnalia in honor of the god Saturn, and we’d agreed at Cilurnum to celebrate the holy days together. I was busy making arrangements for this feast-all the officers were-but as soon as I’d recovered fully from the aftereffects of drowning, I decided to take a day out to ride over to see Pervica.
“I’ll come along,” said Longus, when I announced this to my fellows.
I looked at him suspiciously. “That is not necessary.”
“But you might want someone to advise you about the farm! I have a farm in the area myself; I know how many horses they can support. And you might want someone to translate for you-Lucius isn’t the only one who speaks British, you know.” When I still looked at him silently, he raised his eyebrows and said, “You’re bringing half your bodyguard anyway: you’re hardly expecting a cozy chat with the lady.”
I was bringing half the bodyguard only because I’d taken what Eukairios had told me in Corstopitum seriously and involved myself in a lot of exasperating precautions against murder. I’d told the men of my dragon that we must be on guard against intruders into our camp, who might be relatives of the Pictish dead, seeking vengeance: this was a perfectly sensible move in its own right, and it meant that no Britons crossed the palisade unquestioned. I was very careful of what I ate and drank-which had meant finding excuses not to share the food of my Roman colleagues. (I trusted them, on the whole, though with unhappy doubts about Comittus-but I didn’t know or trust all their servants.) I’d also made a will. And finally, I’d forced myself to accept that I must not go anywhere alone, certainly not when others knew where I was going. In spite of all this, I had hoped that I’d be able to talk with Pervica quietly and in some reasonable degree of privacy. I had been wondering whether what I thought I’d seen in her wasn’t a product of my own mind, confused from the touch of death, stunned and overjoyed to find itself still alive. Whether I loved her or not, though, I was certainly indebted to her for my life and bound to do what I could to repay her. I’d chosen a gift for her, and I hoped to be able to discuss the plan for the stud farm sensibly and thoroughly. In none of these things was it likely that Longus would help.
“Why do you want to come?” I asked him bluntly.
He gave one of his doleful grins. “Pure curiosity. But I think you ought to have a Roman officer with you. Have you thought of the effect on the inhabitants of a medium-sized British farm of the sight of sixteen armed Sarmatian horsemen galloping into their chicken run?”
I hadn’t. “The chicken run is at the back of the house,” I said. “We would have no cause to gallop into it. But come if you wish.”
In the end, there were twenty of us who set out: myself, with Leimanos and fifteen of the bodyguard; Eukairios, whom I wanted along to take notes; Longus; and Flavius Facilis-who, however, was not going to River End, but to Corstopitum about some supplies for the festival, and who only joined us for the ride. We were all armed. I would have preferred to leave the armor behind, but (exasperating precaution) thought I’d do better to wear it. Comittus stayed behind to mind the fort.
It was a chill, overcast day, but not actually raining or snowing, and we rode along companionably, discussing the preparations for the festival until we were close enough to Corstopitum to begin looking for the farm. I was glad of Longus, in the end, since I had never actually ridden to River End Farm and hadn’t been paying proper attention when I rode from it: we needed to ask directions, and none of the people we found to ask spoke Latin. Facilis abandoned us to our search and turned toward Corstopitum, saying that he would meet us on our way back if he could.
We found the farm shortly before midday: my heart rose when we saw the colonnaded wings of the courtyard before us, enclosed in a valley that the melting of the snow had left a deep green. I hadn’t noticed before, but you could see the river shining in the distance as you rode down the mud track to the farm gate. Sheep dotted the hills to our left, and I wondered if Cluim was with them.
There was a shout as we reached the gate, and when we rode up to the courtyard, the redheaded servant Elen held the front door open for a man I hadn’t seen before. He was a tall, solid man with iron gray hair, well dressed for a Briton, having a gold collar as well as a checked cloak with a fine pin. He stood in the middle of the porch with his legs apart and his arms crossed, glaring at us.
“Greetings,” I said, stopping Farna in front of him. “Is the Lady Pervica at home?”
“Are you that Sarmatian she saved?” he demanded.
“I am. Are you one of her servants?”
His face reddened and he glared harder. “I am Quintilius son of Celatus, owner of Two Oaks Farm, and a friend and associate of Pervica. I was here doing some business with her and advising her.”
I looked at him a moment. It was to be expected that an attractive young widow with a good farm had “friends and associates.” I would have to discover how friendly and how close the association was. “Greetings, Quintilius,” I said, politely. “May I ask that you tell the lady that Ariantes son of Arifarnes, commander of the Sixth Numerus of Sarmatian Horse, is here to speak with her about the stallion, as he promised?”
At this moment Pervica herself came to the door. She stopped, framed in it, and stood still, staring at me around the side of her “friend and associate.” The moment I saw her I knew that what I had felt before was not mere fancy. I smiled at her and she smiled back. I dismounted and pulled off my helmet, holding it carefully so that the long red crest wouldn’t sweep the mud, and bowed my head to her. “Many greetings, Lady Pervica,” I said.
“Many greetings, Lord Ariantes,” she replied, stepping around Quintilius and coming forward. “Did I hear you say you’d come about the horse?”
“Yes, Lady-and about another matter to do with horses, if you have time to discuss it.”
“Of course. But I rather doubt that all of you will fit into my house.”
I glanced back at my men, sitting on their steaming horses in their armor and grinning. “No,” I agreed. “But if you will permit them to build a fire in back, they will make themselves comfortable while we are talking.”
“I’ll see if we can find them some beer and bread,” she said. “Elen!”
“Pervica, no!” protested Quintilius. “I’ve told you, you should have nothing more to do with any of these barbarians! The gods know what the savages might take it into their heads to do-you’ve heard the stories about them! How can you-”
Longus burst out laughing. “Oh, tell me the stories about them, please!” he said, jumping off his horse and elbowing his way to the front. “I’m sure you don’t know half of it, but tell me anyway.” He bowed sweepingly to Pervica. “The name’s Longus, by the way, most esteemed lady, Gaius Flavinus Longus, senior decurion of the Second Asturian Horse of Cilurnum. I’m sure my friend Ariantes would have introduced me in another minute. I hope there’s room for me indoors. Unlike the Sarmatians, I prefer to rest indoors when it’s cold.”