I took the rebuke as it was intended, gently. "I'm sorry, Auntie. I know I've been neglecting you, but I've been really busy. There's much happening."
She released me from her embrace but continued to hold my upper arms, leaning back slightly to gaze up into my face. "God, how those words sound familiar! That was Publius Varrus's favourite song! But at least he did come home to me, from time to time. He was not like you, staying away and breaking an old woman's heart while he tried to break a young one's hymen."
"Aunt Luceiia!"
"Don't Aunt Luceiia me! I've heard all about you, young man. And you needn't pretend to be shocked, either. One of the few privileges of being an old woman is that you don't have to worry about what people think of you, and another is that you can still remember what it's like to be young. Would you rather have me pretend that I don't recall what life is like? Or that I have never known passion or a man's love? That would dishonour me, as it would Publius Varrus. Here!" She grasped me by the wrist and pulled me down towards her. "Kneel down, boy, I have things to say to you."
Smiling, I knelt in front of her and she leaned close to me, directing her words straight into my eyes. "I—am— alive! Do you believe that, Nephew?"
I laughed aloud. "Of course I believe it, Auntie. What's the matter? Don't you?"
"Oh yes, Nephew, I believe it, but there are too many people around here who do not seem to. They all tippy-toe around me as if I'm not here, or as if I'm. asleep, or dangerously ill, and they are afraid of disturbing me. Even worse, some of them seem to think I am a piece of furniture that remains in the spot where it is placed and is not supposed to communicate anything other than its presence—and that mutely! Hmm!" She nodded her head and stamped her foot emphatically. "But I know what goes on around here," she continued. "More than most people think I know. For one thing, I know about that poor girl in the stables."
My heart almost stopped at the unexpectedness of this. I looked at her for several heartbeats, trying to mask my dismay while she grinned at me with a look of pure triumph. How had she found out? And how much? I forced my voice to remain calm, as I asked, "What do you know, Auntie? What about her?"
"I know who did it."
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. 'Then you know more than anyone else. Who was it?"
"Remus."
"Who?" The name meant absolutely nothing to me.
"Remus. The priest."
"What priest, Auntie?"
"The strange one. You know! Remus, the one with the cold eyes. He is an evil man, that one."
I took a deep breath. "Aunt Luceiia, I have no idea of who, or what, you're talking about."
"Of course you do, Caius, or you've simply forgotten him. I am talking about the priest, the Christian priest they call Remus. At least, he calls himself a priest. You met him here, the day you got back from your last patrol."
I remembered then that there had been a priest in the room when I had last called, but I had paid no more attention to him than I would to any other cleric, which is to say I had ignored him. Aunt Luceiia was always being visited by ecclesiastics on the search for alms and charity, and I had long since stopped paying attention to any of them. They were simply a fact of Aunt Luceiia's life. She was a very religious woman. I swallowed again, hard.
"You called him evil. Why would you say that about him?"
"Because he hates women."
I began to relax, feeling a superior smile invade my face. "Come now, Auntie! How does that make him evil? I can think of a dozen men I know who have no liking for women." Ludo's face had popped into my mind immediately.
"Caius, listen to me," she snapped, utterly impatient with my male obtuseness. "Listen to what I am saying. I know men, and what they like and dislike. That one hates women. He cannot conceal his hatred. He tries to dissemble it, but it comes out. I am not suggesting the man is effeminate; I am saying he is depraved."
I was frowning by this time. "Auntie, I remember seeing him, but I don't remember anything about him. Who is he? Where will I find him? And why would you think he could do such a thing? I mean, disliking women, even hating them, is one thing, but beating a girl almost to death for no reason other than that is another matter altogether. Particularly if the man is a Christian priest."
Aunt Luceiia sat erect and began to pleat a fold in her gown, looking down at her hands almost primly. "You know Bishop Patricius?" I nodded, and she continued. "He is a pleasant man, and well-meaning, but he is not half the man his predecessor, Bishop Alaric, was." Alaric had been a dear and lifelong friend to my great-aunt and all her family and I knew him well from their writings. "I saw that the first time I met him, but I could not condemn him for that. God makes very few Alarics. Patricius will be an able enough bishop, but not an inspiring one. He lacks the human insight Alaric had.
"Anyway, Patricius came here to visit me, and he brought this Remus with him. I did not like him then. He disturbed me, but I said nothing to Patricius. Remus returned that same day you and Uther did, and I sent him away. I am not normally discourteous or inhospitable, but he offended me deeply and so I banished him. I told him to leave my house and this fort immediately and never to return. I threatened to call the guards and have him escorted from the main gates, but he left before I could do so."
I was impressed. The man must have been a boor indeed to have such an effect on my aunt, who was the most gentle- natured person I had ever known.
"What did he do to offend you so deeply?"
"He was himself, that is all. He refused to accept a drink from the hands of one of my serving girls. He dashed the cup from her hands and told her to stay away from him, that she was unclean! Unclean, Caius! In my house!"
"I see. So what did you do then?"
"I threw him out. Told him to leave immediately, not just my house, but Camulod itself. He was unwelcome here and would remain so."
"And you threatened to call the guards?"
"Yes."
"But you didn't?"
"No." She shook her head. "I told you, there was no need to. He left."
"And? That was all of it?"
"No, not quite. That was all that happened, but there was something else that I dismissed at the time because it was unimportant: He walked with a slight limp, and instead of a staff, he leaned on a curious stick, strongly made and shaped to fit his hand."
"Sweet Jesus! Why have you waited so long to tell anyone this?"
She threw up her head, in mute protest at my outraged tone, her face betraying a strange mixture of resentment and guilt, and the asperity of her immediate response showed me how deeply conscious she was of having said nothing about this earlier. "Because I did not know until this afternoon that the girl had been beaten with a stick. When I heard that, I sent for you at once. It was late in the afternoon when this man Remus left here. Almost dusk. I think now he might have lingered in the fort and spent the night in the stables."
"Might have!" I was on my feet. "Auntie, you did well to make the association with the stick and tell me this. How well, you may never know. But I wish you had screamed for your guards at the time this happened. Excuse me now, I have to find this man." I kissed her on the cheek and almost ran out of there.
A search of the entire fort, backed up with intensive questioning, produced only five people who had seen this priest, and all of them had seen him on the way to Aunt Luceiia's quarters. No one had seen him leave again, and no one had seen any sign of him after that. I sent out patrols to scour our entire territory in search of him, but it was hopeless. He had had three days and three nights to remove himself and we found no trace of him, nor was anyone resembling him ever seen again in our lands. Proof of his existence had, however, established reasonable doubts of Uther's guilt in my mind, and I was glad of them. There was another suspect, the only one, as far as Aunt Luceiia was concerned, and I did not undervalue her judgment.