I thought it quite absurd to suggest that Bodica’s poor frightened little slave would put down her baby and knife me, but I owed the bodyguard some respect, and I yielded meekly. When I went over to my wagon with Banadaspos to explain to the girl, Facilis, whom I’d almost forgotten, picked himself up.
“Settled ’em?” he asked me.
I nodded.
He gave a snort of amusement and rapped on the side of the wagon. “Are you still awake, Vilbia?” he asked.
“Yes, Marcus Flavius,” came the sleepy reply.
“Ariantes won’t be in the wagon tonight. His men want him in another wagon where they can keep an eye on him and be sure he’s safe. The one who’ll be sharing this wagon with you is called Banadaspos-so you don’t even have to be afraid of curses. Is that all right?”
“Oh! Oh yes, thank you.”
“Good night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, on the road.” Facilis turned to us and added, in an undertone and to Banadaspos, “The poor little bitch has suffered enough. I hope I can trust you not to take advantage of her.”
“Do not insult me,” Banadaspos whispered back, stiffening.
“Sorry,” said Facilis. “Just my slave-owning suspicious Roman nature.” He turned to go.
“Marcus Flavius,” I said, and he turned back and gave a questioning grunt.
“Perhaps I do not understand how you Romans use lying,” I told him, “but I have just understood that, as liars go, you are a consummate one.”
“To what do I owe that tribute?” he asked.
“We said nothing in Latin about Banadaspos sleeping in the wagon. And you have assured us all the way from Aquincum that you speak no Sarmatian.”
He was silent a moment, then gave a bark of laughter. “The trouble with you, Prince,” he said, in the most villainously accented Sarmatian I’d ever heard in my life, “is that you do not allow a poor lying centurion to make a mistake once, even in the small hours of a cold night. Sleep well.”
XIV
When I went into my wagon early next morning to collect my armor, I found the slave girl and her baby still asleep, though Banadaspos was up by then. Vilbia lay on her side, huddled under the blankets, a pitifully thin girl with a white exhausted face. Of the baby I could see only the top of a head with a few curling wisps of black hair, cradled on her arm. The rug had slipped loose from on top of them, and I pulled it up; as I did so, I saw the marks on the girl’s bare shoulder. Scar on top of scar, and some of the slashes were new. I remembered that Facilis had said she had given birth only eight days before: she should not have been up at all, let alone beaten for slowness. I straightened the rug and went out, feeling angrier with Bodica than I had since I met her. To try to drown a strong opponent because he might prevent you getting a kingdom where you can practice your religion freely is understandable; to torture a miserable girl who only wants her baby back is unforgivable.
Eukairios arrived a little later to find us harnessing the horses, and was shocked. Although we’d concluded most of the business we’d had in Eburacum, he’d expected us to stay another day at least, to tie up any loose ends and to rest the horses. He’d bought some good parchment and drawn up a manumission document in triplicate, all ready to be signed and witnessed. But he wanted seven witnesses to make things absolutely beyond legal question, preferably mostly Roman citizens, and preferably mostly literate since I was unlettered: it was clear that now he’d have to wait until we were back in Cilurnum. However, he swallowed his disappointment quickly when I explained what had happened at the dinner party, and wrote two letters for me, one to the legate, apologizing for my insubordination and excusing myself, and the other to Siyavak with reassurances and promises of help. I sent one of the bodyguard to the commandant’s house with the first letter, and Eukairios to the Christians with the second, and the rest of us set out at once. I was apprehensive when we rode up to the gates, but we were allowed through without question. When the fortress was safely behind us, I sighed with relief and touched my horse to a canter. Eukairios and the other messenger had to gallop hard to catch up with us.
Facilis didn’t catch up with us until the middle of the morning, when we stopped for a meal at a roadside farm where we could buy some milk.
“You were in a tearing hurry to get away,” he observed, dismounting beside me. “Were you still worried that the legate wasn’t going to let you go?”
I had been worried about precisely that, of course, and he saw it and gave a bark of laughter. The slave girl Vilbia, who’d been hiding in the wagon, heard and recognized that laugh at once, and stuck her head out. “Is that you, Marcus Flavius?” she called.
“It is indeed,” he said genially. “And have you seen where we are, girl?”
She hadn’t-we’d woken her when we harnessed the horses, but she’d crawled under the bunk with the rug over her-and she jumped down from the wagon beaming delightedly. “We’ve escaped!” she exclaimed. She flung her arms about Facilis and kissed him on the cheek. “You got me out! They never even thought of looking for me in that wagon! Oh, Marcus Flavius, thank you; may the gods bless you!”
Facilis grinned and patted her on the back.
Eukairios was staring in shock: he hadn’t known that Vilbia was there. “Isn’t that…” he began.
Someone explained to him what she was doing there, and he shook his head in amazement. After a moment, he started smiling. Someone else brought Vilbia a bowl of warm milk from the farm for her breakfast, with a piece of our bread ration from Eburacum, and she went back into the wagon to be with the baby while she ate.
“You’ve left the fortress as stirred up as if you’d looted it,” Facilis told me, grabbing a piece of bread for himself and sitting down on the drystone wall of the field where we’d halted. “I was up to headquarters first thing this morning, and everyone was suspecting everyone else and cursing you. When I left, Priscus had just got your letter excusing yourself: I think if you hadn’t sent it, he’d have been annoyed enough to have you summoned back.”
“I had no wish to offend him,” I said.
“So you said in your letter. It made him slightly less offended than he would have been otherwise. Publius Verinus has been told to investigate the arson attack on you, though I don’t think he’ll get anywhere. I’ve been detailed to find out about the ritual murder in Corstopitum, and I have letters authorizing me to pursue inquiries. I just hope nobody finds out I’ve stolen my commanding officer’s wife’s slave. Me miserum! ” He took a big bite of the bread.
I nodded, taking my own piece of bread and sitting down beside him. “What will you do with her now?”
“One step at a time!” he replied. He frowned. “I don’t dare keep her in Cilurnum. It’s a small place, I’m known, people may recognize her. Comittus certainly knows her. Corstopitum’s probably a better place for her, though still a bit risky. It’s bigger, and she should be all right if I can find a safe house for her to stay inside. I’d ask your young woman to take her on that farm, but…” He stopped himself.
But he was as unsure of Pervica’s own safety as I was.
“I have a friend in Corstopitum,” said Eukairios, coming over. “He could find somewhere for her to stay.”
“Thank you!” Facilis exclaimed, surprised and pleased. “This is the ‘correspondent’ who sent you that letter about the mutiny, is it? Does he have a house of his own?”
“No, sir. But he’ll know who might be able to arrange things. Would you be prepared to”-he rubbed his fingers together significantly-“if it’s necessary?”
“If it gets the poor little bitch a safe refuge, yes.”