She pinched my arm to make me move it and adjusted her palla. We both sat down. My hands started shaking again.
“A vigil came today, after the governor. He was looking for Rhodri, asking questions about Maecenas. I told him about the marriage contract-I had to. Nothing else. I didn’t mention you, though your name came up. He wanted to see if I knew you.”
She answered the alarm in my face. “I wasn’t followed here. I’m not a fool. I know you sent your man out after me that day. I recognized him in the tavern.”
I smiled a little. Bilicho would be devastated. She swallowed, and licked her lips. The next part would be harder.
“I’ve been protecting Rhodri. If I told you where he went, I was afraid someone else would find him first. The vigiles won’t believe his story, and he won’t tell it all because it involves me.”
“Go on.”
“Yesterday I hoped you’d forget him, let him escape to the north or to Gaul. Today I want you to find him. You’re his only chance. I see that now.” She looked at the floor and her fingers grasped the chair arms until her knuckles turned white. “I’m the reason he’s in danger.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I told you. After you left I was miserable. I knew you were right. And then this morning-”
“This morning you and Rhodri were both in danger. From the vigiles, from Caelius. So you came to me for protection.”
She leaned forward and half-rose, her mouth twisted into a scar. “What do you mean? I told you how I feel. I-I love you. I’m not a liar.”
“You’ve been doing an awful lot of it for someone who isn’t.”
She sank back into the chair. Her voice was heavy, and her eyes tightened into bright blue slits, blinding me like a ray of sun in a dark cave.
“Think what you want. I’ve always told you the truth, as much as I could. And when I’m through, you can tell me to go to hell, if that’s what you want. I’ve done what I’ve done to protect my family. What do you care about, Ardur? Is everything tainted for you? Is everything ugly and dead?”
Camulodunum, twenty-three years ago. A little boy, frozen to the ground, hiding in the woods, watching while his mother was cut down like last year’s chaff. I couldn’t move, then, couldn’t think. Twenty-three years ago. Why was I still paralyzed?
The voice whispered, “If not now, when, Arcturus?”
I stared at the woman in front of me, who blended into my mother’s face.
Keep waiting, Arcturus, keep in the shadows. Wait until you’re crawling with worms, a skinny undertaker bargaining for what kind of wine to pour on your shade. Or wait until you can smell the burning fat and hear it sizzle. Go ahead and wait. Because if not now, when, Arcturus? When?
I walked to her chair. Her eyes met mine. There was no guile in them.
“I love you, Gwyna. Whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ll do.” I didn’t need to kiss her. I fell back in the chair. My hands were still.
She cleared her throat. A lifetime came and went.
I said: “Tell me.”
It came out fast. “When I first learned about Maecenas, I planned to kill the both of us. I’d give him a warm, sweet drink with enough yew bark to kill him. No one could prove it was poison-yew acts slowly, as you know. He wasn’t a well man, and he was a drunkard. So I felt safe.”
She leaned forward and put her hands on my knees, like a suppliant. “There was something quicker for myself. My father and brother would have enough money to live. That was my plan.”
“And what happened?”
She looked away, but turned back to face me. Her cheeks were flushed, almost feverish.
“Rhodri convinced me not to. I told you I thought I was in love with him. It would be better to say that I wanted to be in love with him. He‘s one of my people, and knew my husband. He’s like a little boy, and I’m fond of him, and I persuaded myself that I could love him. It was easier than persuading myself to die.” Her shoulders shook. My lovely, lovely, so-alive Gwyna.
“So what was his idea?”
“He thought it would be better if I just drugged the Syrian enough to make him sleep, and he’d come in later and steal the money, and then I wouldn’t have to go through with the-the marriage. Maecenas wouldn’t be able to prove anything, or find Rhodri, and eventually he’d have to leave and go back to Rome.
“So when we got word that he was at Caelius’, Rhodri came that night and made the preparations. My father didn’t want to let him in the house. He knew Rhodri still loved me. But Rhodri had already made plans, and some of his men agreed to help him. All of them except Madoc thought it was just an excuse to fight the Romans.”
“I’ve met Madoc. He’s a priest, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “Rhodri is as well. There are so few left, the Druvids are now both wise men and soldiers. But you must know that. He leads many men and women who are unhappy and poor and blame the Romans.”
I grunted. “There are quite a few unhappy and poor Romans, too. I don’t say Rhodri or any native doesn’t have reasons for resentment, but he doesn’t look like Rome’s hurt him much.”
“He’s a stubborn man.” She squeezed my knee. “In many ways, like you.”
I asked: “What happened that night?”
“Everything that I told you before. The Syrian mocked me, pawed at me. But I stayed long enough to see him drink. He took a few sips, and I urged him to finish it, told him it would help him be a-a husband to me.” She avoided my eyes. Her neck was taut, and she held herself steady on the edge of the chair.
“He had half a cup by the time I left. And I was afraid that I’d killed him.” The words came out simply, without emotion.
That explained the slightly sweet odor I caught that night, and Maecenas’ sluggish blood. I chewed my cheek again. The pugio was meant to kill him. Intention was enough. I looked at her.
“You didn’t. He was stabbed in the back.”
She nodded, relieved all over again. “The vigil told us. And you’d told me about his throat, and the mithraeum, and I knew something terrible-someone terrible-had interfered with Rhodri’s plan and had killed the Syrian.” She shook her head.
“He didn’t want to tell me anything when he came the next morning. Except to say that he’d waited by the temple with Madoc, and they saw where the body was buried, and they dug him up but didn’t find the gold.”
She looked at me again. “I was so thankful when you told me you had it-one less thing they could find to hang him with. But poor Rhodri-he wouldn’t tell me what went wrong. He was supposed to run upstairs, grab the money pouch, and run out the back. He must not have had time to get to Maecenas or the pouch, and I suppose he and Madoc followed the murderer to the temple, trying to find the money for me. He was shaking when I saw him last, white and shaking and terrified.”
“He’s brave.”
“Yes, he is.” She hesitated. “And part of me wishes I could love him, because he’s a good man and he’s sacrificed everything for me.” She held my eyes and didn’t blink. I hoped she’d always look at me like that.
“But all I could do was protect him, keep his secrets. Our secrets. I hope you understand that now, and forgive me. Forgive me for lying. Forgive me for not loving Rhodri. Forgive me for loving you.”
My mouth was dry, as I stared at her. “I think I can manage.”
“He knows I have feelings for you. In the meeting we had before you came, I mentioned you. He’s jealous, Ardur.”
“So am I. Where is he?”
This time, she said: “He told me Camulodunum. He has a farm, and there is a stronghold of the Old Faith in the forest nearby.”
“I’ll leave tomorrow morning. The vigiles are hunting him because they think he’s guilty. And while they’re at it they plan to make life miserable for the natives in this town. Be careful while I’m gone. Draco will keep an eye on you.”
I looked down at her until it hurt too much not to hold her. And then I remembered the shadow.