The governor looked at me, his brown eyes bleary. He wasn’t looking well. I’d seen him without food, without clean water, cut, shot, sore and exhausted. But not like this. “What do you want from me, Arcturus?”
“Just your trust, which I hope I have already. And your word that you won’t torture Rhodri. The jail is miserable, but he’s safer in there. He’s one of two people, other than Caelius, who’s seen this third man. When I get a lead, I’ll need your help. I might have to send a message to you, and if it sounds strange, please just do what I ask.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I was hoping it was all over. Maybe I wanted it to be.”
I added gently: “I wish it were. Meanwhile, it would help the city’s morale if you tell Meditor to end the curfew. They have one Briton and one Roman in official custody. That should be enough to prove it wasn’t a British conspiracy, and yet not lose any face.”
“All right.”
I walked to the desk, and picked up his arm. It was heavy and lifeless. “You need rest. That’s your doctor speaking. And here’s the prognosis: Agricola is the greatest man of his time. He will complete the exploration and conquest of Britannia, and he will be remembered that way. He’s going to live happily for many, many years, raise a handsome son, and enjoy the peace and prosperity he’s fought for. That’s your future, general. Don’t argue with your doctor.”
“I generally don’t. I find I lose too easily.”
The words helped him a little. I left them puzzling over a document I hoped they’d never have to send. Lying to Domitian-or if he thought you were lying-was treason. If someone had done what Priscus suggested, and sent word to the Emperor about Maecenas, Domitian would automatically blame Agricola-he had the best of all reasons to kill the message and the messenger. But if Agricola then told him a different story, he’d use it as proof of a premeditated conspiracy to revolt, and have the governor arrested and killed. Wait or lie? We were foundering between Scylla and Charybdis, and the goddamn ship was leaking.
It was dark when I got home. It was always dark when I got home. I tapped on the outside door, and Brutius answered it. “Dominus-you’re here!”
“I’m surprised myself. How’s Pyxis?”
“Much better. The compresses have helped, and she’s eating well. I don’t think she will need the pain draught tonight.” There was still straw from the kennel floor clinging to his brown curls.
I grinned. “Good.” Agitated voices drifted in from the examination room.
“Is someone waiting?” Before he could answer, I pushed open the curtain.
Draco and Coir were arguing. When he saw me, he let go of her shoulders, turned pink, saluted, and strode from the room. Coir watched him go, the corners of her mouth pinched, her tousled hair more tousled than usual.
“Wait, Coir. I want to talk to you.”
She stood looking down at the floor, but her body was defiant. Brutius retreated into the triclinium. We were alone. I walked over to her.
“Yes, Master?”
She made it sound like a name you wouldn’t want to use around your mother. I cleared my throat. “I’m glad you and Draco are … together.”
She met my eyes, then. “He’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is. I just wanted to let you know that I’m-I’ve-you’re an excellent servant, and I want you to be happy, and if I can do something-”
“You can set me free.”
“What?” I’d been expecting to buy her a new coat. I ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath.
“That’s what Draco and I were arguing about. He doesn’t think we’re ready for freedom, neither one of us, but I told him I think we are. He says he couldn’t support me, and he couldn’t even support himself because he eats too much, to keep up his strength, and what would he do if he weren’t your bodyguard, and what would you do, and I said we’d find a way. We’d go back to my village. But he’s set against it.”
I chewed my lip a little. “Well, he’s got a point, Coir. You’ve learned a great deal, but the more you learn, the better your chances.”
Her jaw line was as stubborn as the curl sticking up in the wrong direction. “That may be, Master, but you asked. So I told you.”
I held her chin in my face, and she lifted it as far away as she could.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say it without hurting you-I’ve already hurt you. I’ll always care about you, Coir. But not the way you hoped.” This was harder than I expected, and I tried not to shuffle. “Draco is a better man for you. I don’t want you to leave, but if it will make you happy we’ll talk about it. You, Draco and I.”
She lowered her chin, and I removed my hand and rubbed my neck. “I was hoping you’d want to stay on, together with Draco.”
“In the same house? With-her?”
“Gwyna. She’s your Domina.” She looked into my eyes and knew better than to say anything else about “her.”
“Well-” She unbent a little. “He is a good man. And he says he loves me.” She smiled a small smile of power. “He says he always has.”
“We can find a bigger room for you, rearrange things.”
She giggled, a strange sound coming from Coir. “He says he likes it small.” She suddenly flashed her eyes up at me and got business-like again. “I’ll stay. I want to keep learning.”
I nodded, and wondered when she had become so cold.
“Will Bilicho live here? With Stricta?”
“I don’t know. Have you seen them?”
She giggled again. “They’re in his room.”
I turned red. “All right. I’m glad you changed your mind.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Master. I hope-she-feels the same way.”
Coir walked out of the room, her head erect. I was hoping like hell for the same thing.
“She” was in the triclinium waiting for me, and for a second I felt like Lugh had stomach-punched me. She was wearing the aqua tunic I’d first seen her in. I couldn’t keep my thoughts off her. Someone had started the furnace, and even my feet were getting hot.
Hefin was sitting beside her, innocent of the looks we exchanged over his head. I don’t remember what I ate. All I could smell was lavender, and the sweetness of her skin, and I chewed and swallowed but didn’t taste much other than anticipation. She complimented Venutius, which was what he’d been waiting for, and, like the man of the world that he was, he retreated to his domain and left us alone.
Hefin chattered about the dogs, the cats, playing with Brutius. All I could hear was the rustle of silk between her thighs, against her breasts. Her eyes crinkled at me. She was enjoying herself. Finally, she sent Hefin to her room, and we were alone.
She led me to the caldarium. There were towels and some oil and a strigil waiting. And then she started to undress me.
“Wait-your stola-you’ll get it wet-”
“I didn’t know you worried about my wardrobe, Ardur.” She was pressed against me, uncinching my belt. “You do smell a little like a goat.”
“Keep leaning on me and I’ll look like one, too.”
She laughed, and kept going, and soon was standing in front of me, eyeing me critically. “Turn around.”
On her tiptoes, she carefully lifted off the leather cord that held my mother’s medallion. Then she turned me around again.
“You have a large bruise on your back. Get in the water.”
I climbed in, while she wetted a cloth. Then she told me to stand up, and applied it to my side. I didn’t know I hurt so much. She dripped the water down my back, squeezing the cloth against me gently with a squishing sound. It was about all I could take.
“Gwyna-”
“Now your hair.”
She poured a pitcher over my head, while I sputtered. Twigs and grass fell out on my shoulders and chest. “You look like a wildman from the mountains.”
I growled at her.“Maybe I am.”
She scrubbed my neck with a rough sponge, and rubbed some salt all over me. Then she told me to rinse, and I did, and she beckoned me out. “You need oil.”