When the owl flew out of the tree, Claudia gave it no thought. It was the time of day owls set off hunting. Why not? Then she heard footsteps and was glad of the dagger still strapped to her calf. Crouching, the figure emerged from the woods. Keeping low to the ground, he moved cautiously, but unerringly, through the long rows of herbs. So then. He knew where the anise seeds were.
'Looking for this?' she asked.
There were many things a frightened man living rough in the woods might have bargained for, but a woman in green rising up from the tall ferns of fennel and tossing a doll at his feet wasn't one of them. He was literally too stunned to move.
'Who are you?' he whispered. ’What are you?'
'Who I am doesn't matter. What I am is a friend of Luci's. Oh, and, if you're interested, I'm a friend of Stella's, as well.'
'Is… is she here?' Troubled eyes searched over her shoulder. 'Is Stella with you?'
'No.' Now he mentioned it, she hadn't seen Stella for several hours, nor Hannibal for that matter. 'And Luci's tucked up in bed.'
You mean Belisana?'
'Luci, Belisana, what's the difference? She's an endearing little thing, isn't she? Full of life and vitality, just like her mother, and with big blue eyes and blonde hair, the spitting image — ' Claudia drew a deep breath — 'of her father.'
She hadn't been prepared for the resemblance to be quite so striking. Right down to the fair curls and dimples…
'I shouldn't have walked out on them,' he rasped. 'But there were too many children too quickly and I couldn't cope.'
'You were the one who pushed for a large family.'
'I know.' He rubbed his face with weary hands. 'But I was young, such an idealist in those days. I didn't realize babies would be such hard work or make so much noise. From the word go they demanded not just my time, but my energy. They sapped it all, night and day, until there was nothing left.'
Well, poor you.
'I couldn't sleep. One of them was always wanting something — a drink, a cuddle, reassurance after a nightmare. They drained me like a vampire drains blood and I couldn't stand being stifled by their lack of conversation. The sheer bloody repetitiveness of their games was driving me mad. Their endless questions and mindless chatter, I just had to get away.'
Sorry, he'd said in his note. Sorry. Never mind Stella. Never mind what she'd had to put up with (and twenty times over once he was gone). Never mind five tiny tots who cried themselves to sleep, waiting for Daddy to come home. Or number six on the way, whose mother would have no support with the birth, no money afterwards and what little strength she had left needing to be diverted into six demanding kids. No, you just feel sorry for yourself, chum.
'By walking out, I was released,' he said. 'Like a bird, I suddenly found I had wings. Without an identity, without a past, without responsibility, I was free! Free to live as I chose, go where I wanted, see places I had only dreamed of.'
'What places?'
Pain clouded his huge blue eyes. 'Well, that was the problem. It didn't take long to realize what I'd done. I honestly believed Stella would manage. She's such a strong, capable woman that it seemed natural that she would simply take over the business. After all, I'd left her the house, the estate, everything!'
'Everything except experience, freedom, the lack of demands of a young family.'
'I know, I know.' Tears made runnels through the grime on his face. 'I didn't get further than Massilia before my stupidity hit me, but it was winter and I fell sick. By the time I was well enough to travel, it was too late. Debt had forced her to sell and she was living here, under Marcia's protection.'
There were serious flaws with his arithmetic, Claudia mused. Stella didn't fall on hard times overnight. But she let him continue.
'I want to come home,' he wailed. 'I am so sorry for what
I put them through, dear god, you have no idea how sorry I am, but now I… I just want to come home, and I'm scared.' He wiped his eyes. 'I see the children playing. Laughing. Living Roman ways with Roman names. And I don't know how to tell Stella I'm here.'
Oh. Shit.
I'll do anything she asks, anything! I'll never leave again, I swear. Only…' Pleading blue eyes as big as the Aegean turned to Claudia. 'I want us to be a family again. Can you understand that?'
She picked up the broken doll. Smoothed its ragged tunic and ran her hand over its carefully washed hair. Orbilio was right. This was a treasured possession. Probably Luci's (she was always leaving things behind). The Scarecrow had cared for it as though it was his own daughter.
'You're asking me to have a word with Stella? You want me to plead your cause, as a husband, a father, a sinner who repents all his sins.'
His face lit up. 'You said you were her friend.'
'I am,' she said softly, 'and that's why I cannot speak for you.' She handed him back the doll. 'There's only one person who can clear up this mess. You. The responsibility of fatherhood never goes away, and you can take my word for that.'
He drew a deep breath and she was surprised how much it was juddering. 'From the moment I moved into these woods, I knew the day would come when I had to stand up and be counted.' The Scarecrow put his head in his hands and waited until they stopped shaking. Finally, he looked up and this time when his eyes locked with Claudia's his gaze was steady. 'Will you help me?'
'I told you, I'm Stella's friend. Of course I'll bloody well help you. Only for heaven's sake let's get out of this field while we can still see where we're going!'
High in the hills, in the cave from which the Spring of Prophecy bubbled from the rocks, the Arch Druid Vincentrix stretched the long night out of his muscles and kicked over the traces of his fire in which his magic herbs still burned. Dawn was breaking in the east. The four horses that had galloped so despondently as they carried the Shining One on the last leg of yesterday's celestial journey had replenished their energies in the Paddocks of Plenty on the far side of the horizon. Now they were itching to be harnessed to the chariot that would light the last day before the autumn equinox, and Vincentrix smiled. Come midnight, the power of the gods would be restored. Come midnight, the blood that was owed them would be theirs.
One by one, the Druid pledged obedience to his gods.
First, he kneeled at the dainty feet of the Silver One, who sees everything from her star-studded chariot of night. Then he turned to face the Gentle One, who heals the sick and brings comfort to the dying, then the Flower Queen, the Horned One and the Thunderer. Finally, he made obeisance at the feet of the Ancient One, from whose tongue hangs fine gold chains from which the Knowledge of the Universe falls in tiny drips. Vincentrix closed his eyes and begged that one of these droplets might fall upon his unworthy head.
Far below, a cockerel crowed.
A cockerel crowed, and Hannibal stared at the figure before him. Mesmerized by the sweet bloom of youth, his eyes travelled over the curve of her breasts, the narrowing of her tight waist, the slenderness of her hips. Was any skin more flawless? Any eye more clear? A tentative hand reached out to touch the texture of her long, heavy hair. Captured at her peak, age would never raddle her internal organs or time brittle her bones, and the sun would never brown and wrinkle her perfect skin.
He placed a shaking hand against her cheek. The sweet bloom of youth was cold to his touch. Cold and stiff and unyielding. Soon, though, the sun would rise to warm this latest study in perfection…