Finally, several of the older men arrived with two old packhorses. Vicinius arranged for the quarters of the boar to be lashed to the horses. Then, at last, he turned to Hunter with a big smile.
“That boar will feed the village for days. My friends who were with me yesterday will wish they had been free today, instead.”
“It was a very dangerous quarry,” said Hunter. “You are indeed an excellent hunter. Are we ready to continue on our way?”
“Of course,” said Vicinius cheerfully. “We will go along the river.” He picked up his spear and slipped past Hunter. “Come on.”
Hunter and Gene followed him. When they reached the edge of the trees, Vicinius ignored Steve and Jane’s footprints, which turned to the right in the soft earth. Instead, he marched straight out across the narrow flood plain to the edge of the rushing water.
“I would like to rejoin Steve and Jane,” Hunter said courteously, coming up alongside Vicinius.
“This is where the footprints of your other friend will be,” said Vicinius. “Along the water. But if he approached the river from upstream, then Steve and Jane might cross his tracks coming or going from the forest. We must move downstream to look for his tracks there.”
“I am concerned about Steve and Jane,” said Hunter. “Our party should be together.”
Vicinius turned to look upstream in the distance. The wind blew his long, shaggy hair from his face. “The Romans are nearby. If you wish, I will search downstream for you and sound my horn if I find any sign of your friend.”
“Maybe we can go downstream for a little while,” said Gene. “We have a lot of daylight left. We can go after Steve and Jane later.”
“Agreed,” said Hunter. He felt some internal stress from the First Law, but Steve and Jane seemed safe for the time being.
Vicinius moved down the bank quickly, hopping from rock to rock, over exposed tree roots. He wasted no time, glancing quickly at the mud or soft sod near the water. Hunter had no trouble keeping up, of course, but he repeatedly waited for Gene to find his way over the rough ground.
Over their heads, Hunter saw the sun only as a slight glow behind the gray clouds. Hunter calculated how much time they would have to reverse direction, catch up to Steve and Jane, and return to the village. After more than an hour had passed, they had seen animal tracks leading to the water but no human’s tracks.
“I have found something,” Vicinius said suddenly. He crouched near the edge of the water.
Hunter stood over him, magnifying his vision to examine the details of several partial footprints.
“They are unusually small,” said Vicinius. “And he is barefoot. This matches what you told me.”
“Yes,” said Hunter, as he identified the footprints. “These are the footprints of MC 3.”
“Really?” Gene leaned down to take a good look, leaning on his spear.
“He’s moving downstream,” said Vicinius, standing up. “Come on.”
“What about Steve and Jane?” Gene asked.
Hunter looked at the sun again. “If we are going to catch up to Steve and Jane in time to return to the village together, we have to reverse direction now.”
Vicinius looked at him in surprise, waiting.
“What do you want to do?” Gene asked.
“The footprints are sharp and clear,” Hunter continued. “MC 3 made them earlier today, since the intermittent drizzle has not had time to dull their edges or wash them away.”
“Yes, of course,” said Vicinius.
“We shall catch MC 3 first,” said Hunter. Finding MC 3 was a more pressing First Law problem than rejoining Steve and Jane, who appeared to be in no particular danger. He followed Vicinius, and signaled Steve and Jane on his internal transmitter. They did not answer.
7
Wayne lay on the ground in the German village in the drizzle. The previous night, he had been grabbed by the villagers amid a great deal of shouting and arguing and roughly dragged back to the middle of the village. In the midst of all the yelling, he had only made out two words. One tall, hulking young man was named “Arminius” and seemed to be in charge. He called out to a slender, wiry young man named “Julius” and then walked away from the crowd of villagers around Wayne, uninterested.
When they had realized that Wayne could not understand any of what they were saying, Julius yanked his arms around a tree trunk, then lashed his wrists together with rawhide thongs. Leaving him out in the rain and cold, the villagers had gone to bed in their huts.
The village dogs barked at Wayne and sniffed around him at first, but soon lost interest. He had not slept, exactly, but he had dozed from exhaustion even as he shivered. The next morning, in the early dawn light, he discovered that he had been lashed to a tree trunk next to the village refuse heap. Only the cold kept down the smell of rotting waste.
Most of the villagers had ignored him as they went about their morning routine. Julius and a few of the other warriors had given him a curious glance, but no more. Some of the children had poked him with sticks to see what he would do, but they, too, had lost interest when he had just stared at them.
Afterward Wayne had spent most of the day quietly straining at the leather thongs. He had quickly noticed that the untanned leather binding his wrists was absorbing the steady drizzle that was falling. When he pulled, no matter how much it hurt his wrists, the thongs stretched slightly. The more they stretched, the thinner they became, and he gently rubbed them against the rough tree trunk in a sawing motion. The rawhide thongs were much weaker than finished leather.
He had given up any hope of escaping the village by running away. All he wanted to do was reach the control unit on his belt. To survive, he would have to risk going back to Room F-12 in his own time.
As the gray, overcast day slowly darkened into evening, Jane sat primly on a rough wooden bench in the governor’s tent. With an amused smirk, Steve was standing attentively behind her against the wall of the tent. Demetrius, the governor’s elderly personal Greek slave, who had served dinner, stood behind the governor and Steve had decided to imitate him.
Governor Publius Quinctilius Varus was hosting her as the guest of Marcus, his aide. The other Roman officers were eating in a separate tent. Steve, as Jane’s personal slave, was expected to remain in her company.
“You were very fortunate to find us,” said Governor Varus. He was in his early thirties, with short brown hair. His heavy woolen tunic looked very warm and comfortable. “These barbarians would not know how to behave with a lost lady from Gaul.”
Jane smiled politely and picked daintily at the piece of roasted fowl in front of her. It smelled very good, and lay on an engraved gold plate, but she was so tense that her appetite was gone. She was anxious not to say anything that would ruin their masquerade.
“Oh, you need not be too fearful,” said Governor Varus. “They know their place. The power of my great-uncle has been made clear to them often enough.” He smiled confidently and raised his engraved golden goblet of wine.