“My lord legate,” I said at last, “I have told you I trust your goodwill. Why should you believe that I know?”
He snorted. “This whole affair reeks of conspiracy so badly they can smell it in Londinium. The commander of the fourth numerus was sent a message purportedly from this very fortress, a piece of Sarmatian paraphernalia with British writing which made him mutiny. At just that time the Selgovae and Votadini staged a major raid, and prisoners interrogated afterward revealed that they’d been forewarned of the mutiny-by an unknown person whom they believed to be a senior officer of this legion. You, who stopped the raid, went to look at the treacherous message and reconcile the rest of the men to Roman service, and you very nearly never came back. Your good friend and brother prince, Arsacus, who was with you, says it was a hunting accident; you claim to remember nothing about it. But you had no business going in the water with a bow case if you were after a boar, as Arsacus says, and if you were after wildfowl, why was your bow found unstrung in its case?” I glanced quickly at Facilis, who looked away; Priscus noticed. “Yes, of course I’ve talked to him about it!” he snapped. “Him and others. A man is then murdered near Corstopitum, and a cursing tablet with your name on it is shoved in his mouth. You come here, and the house in which you’re thought to be sleeping is set on fire as soon as you arrive-the house that was the house of your friend and brother Arsacus, which he could easily have prepared for you. Come on! I’ve been patient, man, I think highly of you, I think I understand your motives for silence-but I’m not a damned imbecile! You know something, somebody else knows you know, and you’d better spit it out before the somebody’s efforts succeed!”
He was not a damned imbecile: he’d pieced more together than I’d realized. I even wondered for a moment if he was right that Arshak had prepared the house for me. He had wanted to set fire to it-but that was impossible: when I’d met him on the road there’d been no suggestion that he was contemplating such a cruel and alien method of murder. It was much more likely that Bodica’s friends had done it. If they’d told him they wanted to burn it after he’d left, he would have been pleased and asked no further questions. And I was still afraid to accuse the legate’s wife, particularly here in this fortress where she had spies “everywhere”-though a glance showed me she’d gone still and was watching me in terror.
“No Sarmatian would murder by arson,” I told Priscus. “My brother Arshak favors the spear, but even if he would dishonor himself with murder, he would not use fire. It is sacrilege to pollute Marha’s image with death. That is a Roman custom. And the man killed at Corstopitum was not killed in any manner familiar to my own people.”
Priscus was silent a minute, blinking, as he had when I first informed him of the cursing tablet.
“I can’t believe you’re right to be suspicious of Arshak, Tiberius,” Aurelia Bodica put in, rushing the words, her eyes dark. “He’s not the conspiring sort; you must have seen that. He revels in killing, yes, but he’s not a planner.”
Priscus grunted and stood up. “Very well,” he said, picking up a lamp from the stand in the corner. “It’s pretty clear that there are Britons involved. Very well, maybe Arsacus wasn’t guilty of that particular effort; maybe he’s not guilty at all, though if he isn’t, I don’t see why you’re keeping your mouth shut, Ariantes. It makes a lot of sense that you’d try to settle Sarmatian quarrels in Sarmatian ways: you’re vulnerable to accusations of Romanizing even without informing on a fellow commander. But maybe I’m wrong.” He set the lamp down on the table in front of me. “Put your hand over this and swear your people’s oath on fire that you believe Arsacus is innocent and you don’t know who’s trying to kill you or why.”
I stared at him, appalled. “Sir,” I said at last, “if I have suspicions, I have no evidence. And I have no wish to be accused of slandering eminent Romans without evidence. When I do get evidence, you may be sure I will tell you of it.”
He glared at me. “Eminent Romans, is it?” he asked. “Eminent Romans and Arsacus, or eminent Romans alone?”
I put my hand over the flame of the lamp; it made a spot of gold warmth on my palm. “I swear that when I told you I did not remember what happened on the way back from Condercum, I was telling the truth,” I said. “I swear that I believe Arshak to be innocent of the arson, and of the murder in Corstopitum.” The spot of warmth was becoming uncomfortably hot. I struggled to remember what else I could truthfully swear to, couldn’t think of anything, and took my hand away.
“That’s a long way short of what I asked you to swear,” observed Priscus.
There was one other thing I could swear to. I put my hand over the flame again. “I have not lied to you, my lord, nor broken the oath I swore at Aquincum in any way; on fire I swear that now.” I put my hand down and held on to the arm of the couch; my fingers were starting to shake. “If you like,” I added, “I will have my scribe write an account of what I believe to be the truth of these matters, and should my enemies’ efforts succeed, you may have it.”
“That’s not good enough! What are you afraid of?” demanded Priscus. “Do you think I’d let you be murdered while the business was investigated?”
“I have told you, sir, I have no evidence and no witnesses to call, and without them, I cannot speak.” I climbed to my feet, unsteadily-I felt as though I’d been riding hard all day. “May I go and rest, Lord Legate? I did not sleep well last night, and I am tired.”
Priscus swore, glaring at me. Facilis got up and straightened his cloak. “I’ll walk him back to his friends, sir, with your permission.”
“You won’t get anything out of him,” growled Priscus. “Ariantes, you are disobeying a direct order from your commander in chief. That is rank insubordination and punishable. Are you going to tell me the truth-or do I have to send you to prison?”
I said nothing. I stood there with the wine ringing in my head, looking at him. I was horribly aware of my sword, hanging from the arm of the couch, its hilt a few inches from my fingers. It would solve nothing. Prison for insubordination or prison for slander, death and disgrace either way. And what would my men do then?
Verinus Secundus, who had sat stony-faced through all of this, stirred and spoke for the first time. “But supposing he’s right, sir?” he asked. “The kind of murder there was at Corstopitum-there’s a lot of that, even in the legion. I’ve heard the lads whispering. We can trust his own men not to kill him, but if we put him in prison, who’s to guard his guards?”
Priscus grunted. After a moment, he nodded, and gave me a gesture of dismissal. I picked up my sword, slung it over my shoulder, and limped out, followed by Facilis.
When we were in the street outside the commandant’s house, and alone in the cloudy moonlight, I stopped and turned on Facilis angrily. “Why did you tell him?” I demanded. “Do you know what would be done to me in a prison? Do you know what my men would do if I were put in one?”
“He’s not putting you in one,” Facilis replied. “And what was I supposed to say when he asked me? He may be a cuckold, but he’s no idiot. He doesn’t suspect her yet, but he will, and why should we suppress evidence to slow him down? But I didn’t come along with you to talk about this. Ariantes, I need your help.”
“My help! Marha!” I turned on my heel and began to stalk off. Now that I’d escaped, I was furious, with the legate, with his wicked murderous wife, with the Romans in general and myself for Romanizing, and particularly with Marcus Flavius Facilis, for making himself my ally and then going some way to betraying me. And I had no idea what would happen next, whether I’d be allowed to leave Eburacum without confessing what I knew, whether I’d live another day.
“Your help!” agreed Facilis, running after me. “Look, that girl..”
“What girl?”
“Vilbia. Bodica’s little slave. I’ve got her in my house.”