She paused, eyeing me with her head to one side, and then she sniffed and turned quickly away, but not before I had seen the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "I shall have to meet this young woman," she said, over her shoulder. "If she won't come to me, then I shall find a way to go to her. Now, those are all light things. She will need some heavy woollens for cold weather, and I have just the thing." She crossed the room and began to sort through another wealth of clothing, all of these heavier than the ones I held, and the pile in my arms grew cumbersome. She finished it off with a magnificent, heavy, hooded cloak of thick, white wool that would shut out a winter storm completely. Finally, she was satisfied. "Good. Bring all of these back into the family room. Ludella will pack them in a chest and you can send a soldier for it in an hour or so. It should sit on your horse's rump, so you'll have no problem transporting it. Now. Is there anything else she needs?"
I could think of nothing else, and thanked her profusely, but she waved my thanks away.
"Now give me a kiss and let me get about my business. I have company coming."
I grinned at her. "A secret assignation?"
"No. A priest."
"More priests, Auntie? Haven't you got enough of those?"
"Don't be impertinent. Kiss me and go."
I did as she bade me, feeling much better than I had in coming.
Back at my quarters I called in the guard on duty and told him to have my prisoner brought to me under escort and to send the Legate Titus to me immediately. By the time I heard the approach of marching feet, I had signed the copies of my orders on the horse census and was finishing my instructions to Titus, who glanced curiously at the giant young Scot, saluted me smartly and left to begin the count of the livestock in the fort. I looked up at my prisoner.
He stood erect, a portrait of pride and indifference, staring at a spot somewhere above my head. His escorts flanked him, standing stiffly at attention.
'Thank you," I said to them, "you can wait outside." They withdrew, closing the doors behind them. I let young Donuil stand there as I returned to the documents in front of me, giving them one more unnecessary reading. Finally, I sat back and crossed my legs. "Well, Prince Donuil, what do you think of Camulod so far?"
He did not answer, so I rose and crossed to the window, turning my back on him deliberately, fully aware of the sword I had left lying on the table top within his reach. The shutters were open and I looked for some moments at the life going on outside. There was no sound of movement from behind me. I turned back and faced him. He had not moved a muscle. I crossed my arms in front of me and spoke to him again, weighting my voice only slightly with an edge of ill humour.
"Are you being sullen just to bait me? Or do you regret your bargain already? Your presence here spared the lives of more than a thousand men. Do you intend to celebrate that by spending five years in silence? And in a cell?" Still no response. I went back to my seat and sat there, staring at him in silence, fully prepared to wait him out. I had nothing to lose but time and it was on my side. The silence stretched and grew until it approached the point where stubbornness became a matter of pride, but I was prepared for that. Just before I judged that time to have arrived, I picked up a small wooden hammer and rang the brass gong on my table top. The door opened immediately and the guard stepped into the room.
"Commander?"
"Ask the centurion of the guard to send a messenger to me at once."
The guard left and we returned to the waiting game, and this time I busied myself with one of my uncle's codexes until I heard a knock at the door.
"Come!"
A trooper stepped into the room. "Centurion Tertius sent me, Commander."
"Good. Please go at once to the quarters of my aunt, Luceiia Varrus, and collect a chest that she has there for me. If it is not ready, wait for it and take it to my sleeping quarters. You will be expected."
"Yes, Commander." He, too, left and I spoke again to Prince Donuil.
"Obviously you have nothing to say. Do you wish to return to your cell?" No flicker of reaction, so I went on, "I had thought to have offered you better quarters, but since you seem to have no interest in being civil I can only assume you are comfortable enough where you are presently lodged. You surprise me. Five years can be a longtime, behind bars." That reached him. He frowned and glanced sidelong at me.
"What kind of better quarters?"
I resisted an impulse to smile at him. "Open ones, for a start. Not quite fit for a prince, but comfortable enough for a princely prisoner."
"What would I have to do?" His voice was heavy with suspicion, wondering what price I would exact of him for any relaxation of vigilance. "If I were to accept these better quarters, what would you expect of me?"
I shrugged one shoulder. "Little more than you have already promised. I have your word that you won't attempt escape. Now, in return for your co-operation, I could permit you a room of your own, with privacy."
"Co-operation?" I could tell from his voice he knew I was about to name my price. "What would this co-operation consist of?"
"An end to this sullenness of yours, for one thing. There is no need for it, and it simply breeds suspicion and dislike." He blinked and was silent for a moment, obviously confused and trying to hide it.
"And? What else?"
"A willingness to contribute to the life of this Colony while you are part of it."
"Contribute? What form of contribution?"
"Work of some kind, not necessarily menial. We all contribute, every one of us, each according to his abilities."
He looked sceptical. "Even you?"
"Of course!" I laughed. "Even my father, the General. There are no parasites in Camulod."
I could not identify the tone that now coloured his voice. "What does your father do?"
"He is Administrator and Commander-in-Chief of our forces. He heads the Council of Governors of the Colony."
"And you, what do you do?"
"I assist my father. I keep records. I command a regiment. And I count horses."
His face went blank with surprise. "You what?"
"Count horses. I have just been charged with taking a census of all the horses that the Colony owns."
"You have that many horses?" His eyes showed wonderment. "How long will that take?"
I made a face to show my ignorance of that answer. "I do not know. In truth, I have no idea. A week, perhaps two, if nothing unexpected happens, like another raid, to interrupt the task."
His face creased into a frown. "What could I do? I have no training in any kind of work such as you describe, and I will not work with my hands like a bondsman."
"I didn't think you would, nor would I ask you to, but there must be something you can do. Do you have skills with iron?"
"You mean making it? No."
"Can you write and read?"
"No."
"Can you relax?" He blinked at me and I signalled towards the chair in front of him. "Sit down, you are too tall to gaze up at constantly." He sat down slowly and I picked up the sword that lay on the table and unsheathed it, laying it before him. "Look at it," I said. "This sword was made by my own great-uncle, Publius Varrus, a master smith. He was a soldier and a founder of this Colony, but he worked with his hands in metal all his life and saw no shame in it." I slipped the blade back into the sheath. "Every man has skills that are all his own, Donuil. Here, in our Colony, we ask that each man use his skills for the benefit of everyone, earning in return the right to live here, sharing in the Colony's prosperity. By making your own contribution you would be earning your keep—no more, no less. You will be asked to do nothing that could embarrass you or cause you to feel guilt in any way. You will not be asked, for example, to fight against your people, should they raid our lands again, although such an event would itself place you in a bad position, since your presence here means that we are at peace with Hibemia for five years."