'Amid the sense of outrage on the one hand and betrayal on the other, who can blame the Santons for ignoring Rome's pleas to let their cohorts hunt down the renegades? Mustering a group of vigilantes, and bearing in mind our Gallic fondness for horseflesh — ' it was the closest the Druid came to a smile — 'it didn't take the warriors long to track down thirty or so Parisii sitting round a camp fire, laughing and drinking so hard that the first they knew of any assault was when the warriors fell upon them.'
Fine so far. Claudia could easily see why Rome wanted the matter hushed up. The Governor had failed to take adequate precautions for the safety of those in his care, and if a whole village being wiped out didn't destroy his career then a full-scale rebellion by the Santon people certainly would. No wonder so many natural disasters befell the official records! Mice, mould, floods? The Governor probably imported rodents for the very purpose! What she didn't understand was why the locals wanted it swept under the rug.
'Ah, you Romans. Always so impatient,' Vincentrix said, and, now she thought about it, she realized he hadn't struggled against his bonds since the beginning. 'But, as it happens, this brings us to the next page in our storybook.'
As the victorious vigilantes danced in triumph round the corpses in the Forum, hacking off the heads of their enemies so that their souls would be denied rebirth, the army returned with prisoners in tow.
'It would appear our glorious warriors made a mistake,' Vincentrix said grimly.
While the hotheads went charging off on the finest horseflesh in Gaul, the legionaries employed two centuries of tracking skills to run down the real culprits — and how did they know it was them?
'Because they produced the trophies the real bandits had been parading,' he said. 'Namely, the villagers' heads impaled on poles.'
Going through the satchels of the slaughtered Parisii, it quickly became clear that the Santons had succeeded in butchering a trade delegation on its way to Burdigala on the Jirond.
'So a deal was struck?'
'And why not?' the Druid countered. 'It was hardly in Rome's interest to incense allies who had trekked hundreds of miles to talk peace, while, far from being the heroic avengers they believed themselves to be, the Santons find they are killers of innocent men.'
Nothing like embarrassment, contrition and shame to unite opposing factions, she reflected, pulling a stem of long grass from the river bank and chewing on the juicy end. Everyone was agreed: the delegation never arrived. No one saw them. No one heard them. The Parish simply vanished into thin air somewhere along their arduous route…
The landlady's words echoed back to her. You won't find anyone around these parts willing to talk about what happened back then, not a soul, she had said, adding that some things were best left in the past and how it was a waste of time trying to dig deeper. She was wrong. Trying was never a waste of time. Unless you try you cannot succeed, and while Claudia was no closer to finding her father, she had at least broken through the barrier of silence. Even though it nearly cost her her life.
'You didn't have to kill me, you bastard.'
'Not a decision I took lightly.' And she wasn't sure whether the pain in Vincentrix's eyes was because he was truly contrite or whether his arms were starting to strain in their sockets. 'But you have to remember, Claudia Seferius, that if word got out about that tragic day, the Santons involved would be rounded up and made examples of He drew a deep, shuddering breath. 'One life sacrificed to save twenty, not to mention the families whose lives would be ruined by the disclosure? It had to be right.'
'Didn't it occur to you that Rome doesn't want this business aired, either?'
'Of course.' His kestrel head nodded. 'But once it is, there is no going back, and when you bear in mind that most, if not all, of the legionaries involved back then have retired, the consequences for Rome are negligible. For the Santons, however…' He let his voice trail off. 'I am sorry,' he added.
'That you missed me?'
'I didn't miss, I miscalculated, there's a difference, and what I miscalculated wasn't the drop of the block or the accuracy of my mathematical computations, Claudia Seferius, it was you. You were too fast for me.'
Always, Vincentrix. Always…
'What made you suspect me?' he asked.
Oh, come on! Who else could have blended in so seamlessly into a bustling building site than the Arch Shapeshifter himself?
'You gave the game away, Vincentrix, when you were telling me about your tragic marriage. At any cost, you said. You said you wanted that woman to be your wife at any cost, and you actually admitted that you couldn't see what was in front of you because of your obsession. The very same quality you recognized in me and played on,' she told him. 'A desperate need to find my father.'
'Your father, was it?'
'Does it matter?' She wondered whether the prison guard would have to replace the leg irons out of his own personal funds. 'Right from the outset, when I first started making enquiries about events that took place fifteen years ago, you realized it had to be something of vital personal importance that dragged me all the way out to Santonum, and you just couldn't resist showing off when you realized that I couldn't sleep from the anxiety. You played on my insecurities, Vincentrix. Exploitation of the mind is your job and I have to hand it to you, you're pretty damn good at it.'
Anger surged through his captive body. 'I serve my people through communion with the gods. That cannot be construed as exploitation.'
'Manipulation? Magic? Your argument, then, is what does it matter so long as they believe?'
'Yes,' he hissed. 'So long as they believe, their souls are safe. That, Claudia Seferius, is my job and that is what I am good at. My people entrust me not with their lives, but with eternity. I. Will. Not. Let. Them. Down.'
A fanatic with conviction in his beliefs? Or a man addicted to power and authority? Claudia did not know the answer. Leaving Vincentrix pinned to his own high-backed chair, she untied the rowing boat and silently made her way back to the shore.
From the long grass, the tabby cat watched her depart.
Twenty
'Uncle Hanni, what does stamina mean?'
'Great Jupiter, young Luci, that's a very long word for a very short child. Let me think.' He cupped his jaw and frowned. 'What would that information be worth, do you suppose? Two copper quadrans?'
Blue eyes bulged in horror. 'Two quadrans?'
'Very well, two copper quadrans it is.' He fished around in the bronze purse that hung from his belt and passed them across.
'Gosh.' Luci squirrelled the coins away in the depths of her robe. 'I thought you meant I had to pay!'
A smile was quickly suppressed. 'Stamina, I believe you were enquiring about?'
'Yes, because Mummy told me I'd soon learn it, if I didn't eat my leeks, beans and onions.'
'How does that work?' he asked, in his rich, fruity tones. 'She said she'd make me sit at the table until they were gone and that would teach me about stamina. Only I thought if I asked you first then I'd know what stamina was, and then I wouldn't need to eat those horrid vegetables.'
'Those horrid vegetables are good for you.'
'Those horrid vegetables were cold.'
'Only because you didn't eat them.'
Crouched under the dogwood, the Scarecrow followed the interchange with an ache in his heart. He watched a tiny pink hand slip into a leathery brown one. Felt a wrench in his gut when the man kneeled down, looked deep into the child's enormous eyes and said, 'Suppose you and I play a game on your mother? Suppose tomorrow you gobble up all your leeks, beans and onions as soon as she puts them in front of you? What do you think she'll say to that?'