I nodded.
“Everyone thought you were there. Everyone except your own men.”
“Yes. I do not know what to say to the legate. It is clear now that it must have been a Roman who arranged it: only army people are allowed in the fortress at night. They will think of the message that was sent to Gatalas. They will start guessing. But we still have no evidence, and how can I speak without it? It would be easy for them to kill me, if I were arrested here. Something in the prison food while I awaited trial for slander, another fire-nothing would be easier. Marha! I do not know what to say.”
I started back toward the wagons, and Eukairios fell in beside me. “You’re very upset about it,” he remarked. He sounded surprised.
“I am very glad you are alive,” I told him, beginning to recover myself. “I thought you were dead and your body burned.”
He stopped a moment. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, yes-of course.” He hurried to catch up with me again, and we walked on together, as though we were members of one household. We arrived back at the wagons, where my men were gathered in an anxious knot that broke in shouts and exclamations of relief when I appeared.
The following morning Eukairios was eager to go back into the town: he hadn’t finished arranging matters with the Christians when the fire started. “I spoke to the… the presbyteroi of the ekklesia yesterday,” he said. “The elders of the assembly, that is. They’ve prayed about the alliance. They are mostly Brigantians, and they don’t want to see a rebellion or an invasion of the northern tribes-but they’re not quite sure. They want to meet you.”
“Meet me? Why?”
“My lord… we can be injured very easily. One has only to go to a magistrate and say, ‘He’s a Christian,’ and that in itself is a sentence of death. And we don’t want to start a struggle with the druids: we’d be crushed. If we’re to commit ourselves to the risks of an earthly alliance, we have to be sure of our allies. They-one of them in particular-isn’t sure about you at all. I’ve vouched for you-but I’m your slave.”
I shrugged. “But what do they expect to gain by meeting me? They must know that I am not of your faith, that I am… how did you put it once?… a man who decorates his horses’ bridles with scalps and drinks from a Roman skull.”
“You don’t, anymore. They just want to know if you’re the sort of man they can trust not to betray us. Please, sir, I don’t think they’ll help if they haven’t met you.”
I was not eager to meet Eukairios’ friends. I preferred not to know the sordid details. But I did want their help in keeping contact with Siyavak and whatever knowledge their contacts with that other illegal cult had to offer me. “Very well, very well!” I said irritably. “You may tell them that I will meet them at midday, in a place of their chosing. But be back as soon as you can. I wish to have a list of proposals ready for the legate when we meet him this afternoon.”
He saddled my red bay carriage horse and galloped off almost as briskly as a Sarmatian.
Without Eukairios to help me with my list, I had the morning free. I considered trying to arrange some meeting with Siyavak-but decided that however I did it, I might endanger him, and it was safer to allow him to choose his time to meet me. I worked with the stallion Wildfire instead.
I’d accustomed the horse to the feel of a saddle while we were still in Cilurnum, and I’d ridden him for short distances beside Farna while we were on the road. It was probably fortunate that he’d been trained only as a carriage horse before. The saddle held no particular terrors for him-unlike the bridle, the very sound of which made him roll his eyes and lay his ears back. His mouth was so badly scarred, anyway, that he was unable to feel anything short of a wrestling hold on the reins, so I left him with his head in a halter and trained him only to the signals I gave him with my feet. He already knew the Latin carriage calls for “stop” and “go,” so it was easy to teach him that, and he learned to turn quickly. I rode him round and round the stable yard that morning-turn to the right, good lad, turn to the left, good, my brave one, stop! good, very good, here is some grain for you; turn to the left, trot, to the left, yes, good-and he was working well, still nervous of strangers or any sudden sound, but enjoying himself, wanting to please and be praised. When he’d walked and trotted for about an hour, I stopped him in the middle of the yard and began to show him that riders can do odd things in the saddle but that these are nothing to worry about. I stood up in the stirrups, moved over to one side, moved over to the other, leaned down, talking to him quietly all the while. He stood still, flicking his ears backward and forward, and only occasionally trying to move off. I praised him, then drew my legs up and knelt in the saddle. My left knee was stiff, but did not threaten to give under me. I stood up, carefully-and felt ridiculously proud of a feat of balance I’d once taken for granted.
All of a sudden we heard voices at the end of the stable yard, and Wildfire laid his ears back and shied violently. I managed to drop back into the saddle, though he had moved so that I landed hanging sideways by one leg; he leapt across the yard stiff-legged, prancing and snorting, with me hanging off on one side and dragging myself up by his mane. He nearly crashed into the wagons, shied again, twisted about, and neighed loudly, kicking. I had my hands full trying to stay on, and my men began running to help. Wildfire backed among the wagons, kicking and rolling his eyes. I slipped off and caught his head, put my arm about his neck and crooned into his ear. He stood still, shivering. Banadaspos ran over and caught the other side of the stallion’s halter, while I stroked the damp neck and whispered to the animal. I heard the rattle of a carriage crossing the yard, but was far too busy to pay any attention to it-until I heard Bodica’s voice, very close, saying, “Having trouble with your horse, Lord Ariantes?”
Wildfire neighed again and tried to rear. I put my coat over his head, but he still shifted, trembling and snorting.
“I think perhaps he remembers you,” I told Bodica, not looking up. “If you will please move away, Lady Aurelia, I can put him back in the stables.”
I led the horse past her without looking at her, only vaguely aware that she was sitting in her chariot and watching me. Wildfire calmed a little as I brought him into the stable. I put a blanket over him, and asked Banadaspos to walk him up and down and give him a drink of water when he was cool. Then I went back into the yard.
Bodica was still there, standing and leaning on the chariot rail now, letting the flower-bordered edge of a new white cloak drape elegantly over the painted side. “I think you’re right,” she told me, smiling. “I believe I did own that horse once. But he turned vicious and I sold him. I didn’t know you were interested in secondhand animals.”
I had wondered before if the stallion had ever been hers. While there are plenty of people to mistreat animals, few could afford to abuse such a fine one, and she obviously liked driving large and powerful stallions. “Most creatures turn vicious if they are punished unreasonably,” I told her. “Did you wish to speak to me, Lady Aurelia?”
“My husband and I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight, Lord Ariantes,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I hope you can come. We would be most offended if you couldn’t.”
I set my teeth. I’d been afraid of this, and had tried to think of a good excuse not to share a meal with my commanding officer. I’d been unable to. I would simply have to hope that she would not poison me at her own table, where her husband might discover it. “I am honored,” I told her, bowing my head. “I will come.”
“Good!” she said, and sat down again, “We’ll expect you about five o’clock then.” Her driver shook the reins, and the chariot moved off. I watched the white stallion trot smartly out of the yard, and wondered how long it would be before he “turned vicious,” too.