Ludmilla had evidently decided to return these items to their proper place as part of the general refurbishment. I immediately wondered then if she would resent our presence in the house because of that. Had she intended to move her household here? And if so, would she then wish to reclaim the various pieces of plate and ornamentation?
Thinking that thought, and looking at my dear Tress gaping wide eyed at these treasures, a vision of my beloved Cassandra flashed into my mind, and I felt a momentary stirring of some ancient guilt. What would she think of this, I wondered, if she were looking down on me right now, and how would she feel about this young woman sharing my life and my possessions? And then the answer came to me as clearly as if Cassandra herself had spoken the words in my ear. Like Ludmilla, Cassandra would be glad for me, happy that I had found a woman to brighten my life as this one did. Left to my care alone, this villa would have continued to degenerate as it had for the past forty years and more. The scars it bore would have grown darker; the dust would have grown thick in its corners. Now, with Tressa, my life had changed, just as Ludmilla had brought life back to the Villa Britannicus itself.
I led the group up the double flight of wide, marble stairs to the family sleeping chambers on the upper floor. The entire upper storey was floored with thick, interlocking planks of solid pine, glazed with the patina of more than a hundred years of care. Each of the ten sleeping chambers there had its own window and was filled with spring sunlight at this hour of the afternoon. The windows were small, and covered with wooden shutters inside and out, the inner set fitted with adjustable slats that could be closed completely, or angled to permit light mid air to enter. The air circulating throughout the villa, I pointed out for the sole benefit of Tress, was uniformly warm, thanks to the heated air carried throughout by the hypocausts, hot air ducts fed by the furnace that burned constantly beneath the bathhouse and was refuelled twice each day. And the house had two sets of baths, one for the family and another for the household staff, each of them walled entirely with tiny, white, glazed tiles imported from beyond the seas when first the house was built.
We completed our tour with a visit to the facilities surrounding the interior courtyard, although the bustle of activity of the staff in the kitchens and bakery discouraged us from interrupting. Marco, the chief cook of Camulod's kitchens, whom I had known since he first apprenticed to my old friend Ludo thirty years before, greeted me warmly and was happy to make Tressa's acquaintance. Marco, as his mentor Ludo had been before him, was openly and unabashedly homosexual. He was gifted in the preparation of food of any kind, although his greatest talents were reserved for the preparation of pies and pastries. He paid Tress the signal honour of allowing her to taste and test one of his sauces, and rolled his eyes in delight when she moaned with the pleasure of it. Then, graciously, he eased us out of his kitchen again, recommending the beauty of the inner courtyard and the afternoon.
The courtyard contained a garden—more of an orchard, really, with apple, pear, cherry and plum trees as well as vegetables and herbs. The earth in some of the beds was freshly turned, and the debris of winter had been swept up into neat piles in the comers of the two sections where the soil lay undisturbed.
When we had seen all there was to see there, I led the entire group, largely silent now and much subdued, back into the family living room. Ambrose's earlier suggestion of a cup of mead and a comfortable sprawl around a brazier now seemed like an excellent idea, and we passed the interval before dinner in pleasant, general conversation, most of it dedicated to admiration of the villa and the reclamation work done under the supervision of my brother and his wife.
I was happy to see that Tressa seemed at ease with Ambrose and Ludmilla. She sat listening closely, and on one occasion Ludmilla asked her something about the fabrics on the walls and chairs. Tressa brightened and launched immediately into a response that interested me not a whit and quickly lost me in a sea of feminine intricacies. Watching the two of them talking easily, however, I was relieved to know I had been right. These two would become close friends.
As the dinner hour approached, the others who would join us began to arrive from the fort, some of them in wagons and others, notably the officers of the former Mediobogdum garrison, on horseback. We had decided that, on this first evening of homecoming celebration, the boys and other children should be accommodated elsewhere, to allow their parents the unaccustomed luxury of being themselves for once, without fear of being overheard or interrupted at their meal. All the children, therefore, including the four boys who would have been mortified at that description, were being cared for by the household staff up on the hill. As each group arrived, Ambrose and Ludmilla welcomed them and Plato plied them all with wine, ale or mead, and they were soon absorbed into the ongoing conversations.
At one point, Shelagh approached and took me by the arm, smiling at Benedict, with whom I had been discussing something trivial, and leading me away to stand against a corner wall where she could talk with me alone. I was curious to know what had prompted this move, but for some time she spoke only of the afternoon's activities and the changes Ambrose and Ludmilla had effected in the old house. Finally, prompted by her evident unwillingness to say what was really on her mind, I asked her outright why she had taken me aside. She stilled, and then she smiled.
"Why should you even have to ask? Don't you think it possible I might have wished for a few moments alone with you, to thank you personally for this afternoon? You taught me more than I have ever known about this place."
I grinned right back at her. "Aye, of course, darling Shelagh, that's it. After all the years we've known each other with our gentle lusts and unfulfilled attraction, you've chosen today to declare your love, in full view of Tress, your husband, and our assembled friends. What's wrong, really? Something's troubling you."
"No, it's not troubling. Merely that... I had a dream last night, one of those strange ones, the first I've had in years."
I felt my heartbeat surge immediately and my breath grew tight in my chest. "What? What was it?"
She shook her head. "I saw you and Ambrose, side by side, in a strange place filled with swirling smoke. He stood above you, bare headed, the light from... from something... reflected in his hair. You sat huddled at his feet, your hair dull brown as now, your shoulders hunched. But then you sprang erect and into him, and the two of you became one, brilliant with light mid surrounded by swirling smoke..."
"What? I sprang into him, you said. I knocked him down?"
"No, you sprang into him... inside him. You lost yourself in him, and he in you. You became one. "
"Oh... What happened then?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. I woke up. That is all there was. "
I turned to look to where my brother stood laughing with Tress and Mark, our carpenter, and then I looked back at Shelagh, who stood watching me with no expression that I could define.
"Shelagh, that makes no sense to me at all. Does it to you?'
She shrugged. "No, but when did these dreams ever make sense? I know only that when they occur, I recognize them for what they are, and they always have meaning of some kind. But the thing I noticed most in there was the colour of your hair. Will you change it back to yellow, now that we've come homer'