by Sheila Finch
She didn’t mean to let it, but a sob came out.
“Hush!” Catu said. “They’ll hear us.”
“Do something, Catu! Help Gallus!”
“What can I do?” he said. “I’m just a boy.”
Delamira led her mother past the tree where they were hiding. Lucia held her breath, but they didn’t look up. Her mother’s face was dirty too. She watched them go into the villa.
Uncle Valentinus wasn’t shouting any more, but his voice still sounded angry. He was waving his arms around as if he was giving orders. Now they could see the man lying on the grass was wearing a soldier’s tunic.
“Gallus is legion,” Catu whispered in her ear. “The legion will have to deal with it, whatever it is.”
He took his arm away from her shoulder. “Stay here. Don’t move and don’t make any noise. I’m going to try and climb further out on one of those big branches so I can see better.”
He wiggled away from her, across two more branches till he reached a large one that stuck way out and slid over that. Without his arm anchoring her, she was scared to move, so she clung to the scratchy bark. After a while he slithered back.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Catu, what happened?”
“The man lying on the ground is the tribune. I think Gallus killed him.”
* * *
They waited till the men and Gallus had gone before climbing down from the tree. Catu swung his legs over the branch and slid down. Reaching the snowy ground, he held up his arms for her and she dropped into them. They didn’t speak.
Lamplight twinkled in the villa’s windows. Shadows stretched across the snow. It was very cold. They didn’t go in; Catu said it would be better to watch through the window into the room where Tiberius did his special work. Uncle Valentinus and the men holding Gallus were still talking, but they couldn’t hear the words. They’d seen one man set off running up the road to Noviomagus, and he hadn’t come back yet.
Now there was an argument. She couldn’t make it out properly, but she thought her uncle won because everybody stopped talking and looked at him. The men who had tied Gallus’s arms led him out of the door and off somewhere.
“What are they going to do with him?”
“You expect me to know everything. Well. I don’t! But I’ll tell you one thing. It’s not good for Gallus.”
She understood that he wasn’t really mad at her. He was just as scared as she was. “We have to do something, Catu. They’re going to hurt Gallus.”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
She was shivering hard now. “We need to tell Niko. He’ll think of something.”
“He stayed in town. You know that.”
“Niko knows how to do everything. Fetch Niko!”
He looked at her for a moment. “I know where his friend lives. In the garrison.”
“A lot of people live in the garrison,” she said, feeling smarter than Catu for once.
“Well, I know his name too. But I’ll have to hurry. It’s getting dark.”
“Be careful, Catu,” she whispered.
“And you stay out their way while I’m gone!” he ordered.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Delamira coaxed her to sip the warm goat’s milk laced with honey. She didn’t want to eat or drink anything, but the girl insisted it would help. She lay back on the couch, and Delamira wrapped a blanket over her.
Valentinus was pacing the room, arguing with a man she’d never seen before, Roman by the look of him, a sea captain. Her brother stopped mid-pace and turned to her.
“Did you encourage him?”
“Valentinus!”
“Well – did you?” His voice was harsh. “Why else did the tribune come here? He knew your husband was away.”
“You insult me. You, my brother who should be my champion!” She recognized that part of her anguish came from the secret desire she’d once held for Marcus. If this attack was a punishment sent from the gods for those daydreams, she’d brought it on herself. Yet it was unjustly cruel of immortals whose own stories were filled with deeds of lust and jealousy and revenge to pour out so much pain on one who was only mortal.
“I’m trying to arrive at the truth,” Valentinus said, his voice cold.
“No,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t know why he came here.”
The room was quiet for a moment. Long-faced, Delamira padded about lighting the oil lamps.
Valentinus stopped pacing. “Get out!” He slumped in a chair with his back to the girl.
Delamira made an evil face at the back of his head before leaving the room.
“There’s no arguing the old man did it,” Valentinus said. “That was a Roman dagger we found in the undergrowth. No doubt whatsoever it’ll turn out to be his! This is a terrible matter. And I must take charge of it in the absence of the centurion.”
“Best to handle it right away,” the other man agreed . He was leaning against a wall, his face in shadow. “If a story like this gets out – a Roman tribune makes a secret visit to the wife of a barbarian king, then is murdered by a rogue legionary – who knows what reaction that’ll cause? I’ve been in these parts a while. A story like that? You need to quash it fast!”
“Legion discipline calls for a tribunal in a case like this. But the garrison in Noviomagus is small. Are there enough tribunes here?”
“Too bad you didn’t stick your own dagger in his ribs when you reached him. You had it out.”
“Are you challenging me? You think I wouldn’t have done it?”
She listened to them bicker, growing more disturbed. She wasn’t ready to let Gallus take the blame.“Valentinus! Didn’t you understand what I said? The tribune was trying to rape me – he might even have killed me – I had to do something –”
“Act swiftly now, centurion,” the man advised.
“I did it!” she shouted at them. “Not Gallus – I killed him! He would’ve raped me otherwise.”
The men ignored her.
“The guards I sent for should be here soon.” Valentine rested his head in his hands. “They’ll carry him up to the fort tonight. Best to get that done in darkness. I don’t know if the man has friends here. I’ll have to take charge. I’ll make my decision how to proceed by morning.”
“Valentinus, Brother. Please listen!” The brother she remembered from childhood was not so churlish. She put a hand on his arm, her wounded palm stinging at contact.
He brushed it off. “Say no more about it, Antonia. This is legion business.”
“It’s my business too! I killed the man who was trying to rape me!”
“Would you want your husband to hear the unpleasant details?” the sea captain asked. His voice was oily. For the first time she noticed how his tongue squirmed around in his mouth as he spoke. “What would it look like? A secret meeting while your husband was away –”
“This is best for you, Antonia,” Valentinus said. “I’ll try to spare you from the shame this time.”
She wanted to scream at them, but a woman’s rage had no power here. The worst of it was, she knew his assessment of the situation was right. She had nothing to gain by forcing her confession on them. They needed a scapegoat to show off their power. They would kill Gallus anyway.
“Lady.” Delamira stood in the doorway. “Soldiers – four of them.”
“Good,” Valentinus said. “We’ll get this taken care of quickly.”
* * *
She couldn’t sleep. She huddled in a wool blanket in a chair, watching the ghostly snow falling past her window. She couldn’t eat a bit of the meal Old Nev had prepared, but Valentinus had consumed his food with the appetite of a wolf. The sea captain hadn’t stayed, claiming his need to return to the ship in preparation for sailing on the dawn tide. Valentinus had announced his decision to stay in Noviomagus to oversee the trial of Gallus.
The four legionaries who’d come in response to her brother’s summons brought news of the centurion and his men. The patrol had return
ed that evening, but Marcus wasn’t with them. He’d gone on to the headquarters of the legion, carrying the news of Nero’s death to the legions’s commander. They expected him tomorrow. Her husband hadn’t returned with the men either. Her mind shut down, leaving her hearing words, and even answering questions when asked, but not able to hold their meaning for long.
Valentinus came into the room from the colonnade, letting in a blast of cold air and a swirl of snow.
“I’m going up to Noviomagus. In the absence of the centurion, I must stay here and take command. The killer must be sentenced and executed immediately as an example to others.”
“Can’t this wait till Tiberius returns?” He at least would listen to her.
“This concerns the legion, Antonia. No one else.”
“Tiberius fought with the legion –”
“No.”
She saw that he was wearing a leather cloak over his armor as protection against the snow. And what about Gallus? Would they provide a cloak for him too? She knew they wouldn’t.
“He’s an old man, Valentinus,” she said. “Show mercy.”
He went away without answering her.
Exhaustion finally took her down into fitful sleep that was broken by ugly dreams. In one, she turned from killing Didius and raised the knife against her brother.
Some time later, a noise in the room startled her. Niko stood by the chair she’d slept in, one hand on Catuarus’s shoulder. The boy looked ragged with tiredness and fear. They were both covered in snow.
“I brought Niko to help,” the boy said. “But it’s too late!”
“We passed them on the road,” Niko said. “They didn’t see us hiding in the bushes.”
“What could you have done anyway? Valentinus will see that he’s put to death.”
“My father won’t allow them to do that!”
“Your father won’t have any say in this, Catuarus,” she said. “It’s a Roman matter.”
He stared at her. She could see he was trying to make sense of something he’d never had to think of before. He and his father were Roman citizens, but not Roman.
“Will they be merciful to him?” the boy whispered. “I wouldn’t want Gallus to suffer.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Roman justice is many things, but never merciful,” Togidubnus said.
Nobody in the room said anything. Antonia looked wan. Niko had given her a potion to help her sleep but it hadn’t worked yet. The Greek hadn’t added anything to the discussion. The children crouched in a corner; he knew they feared he’d send them away if they made a noise; he let them stay. Food and a pitcher of wine stood on a low table, but nobody was hungry.
He’d made good time coming back from the Stone Circles, any faster and he would’ve injured Warrior, but the early winter night had closed in before he reached the villa. Even if he’d known, he couldn’t have been here sooner. Yet he felt guilty for not preventing the attack from occurring.
A king should not burden his soul with such poisons.
A dream. All that had happened in a dream. This – Antonia’s anguish, Gallus’s danger– was real.
“Gallus was trying to save me, Tiberius,” Antonia said in a small voice.
Her voice caught in her throat. For a moment, he had the idea there was something else here, something she wasn’t telling him. He sensed she’d been about to, but the children had come into the room and she’d fallen silent. He saw tears in her eyes and took her hand. He noted that she flinched slightly. He’d never showed her such an intimate gesture before. He should have. Regrets and guilt. Poison in the way of right action.
Niko stood up from a stool by the door and caught Antonia’s hand as she pulled it away. He stared at it.
“I tore it on some brambles when I was looking for berries,” she said, avoiding Niko’s eyes.
Niko went out of the room. In moments he was back with a small vial. He took Antonia’s hand again and anointed it with an unguent that gave off a sweet, herbal smell.
“We have to help Gallus.” His son’s voice was quavery.
“You must do something, Tiber,” the little girl said. “Don’t let them hurt Gallus.”
“What will happen to him?” Antonia asked. “My brother isn’t persuaded by tears or begging.”
He glanced at the children before answering, the girl getting tall now, his son with hair redder than his own used to be. It wasn’t good for a child to grow up before its time, but that option had closed when they’d first become involved. A long-forgotten memory surfaced, a scene along the Appian Way that he’d witnessed as a boy on his first trip to Rome: Prisoners lashed to wooden crosses and left to die a slow death in the hot sun. A warning to others. Gallus would be tortured first.
“Nothing good or merciful,” he said, and saw Antonia’s stricken expression.
“But you’re the king!” Catuarus insisted.
He was diminished in his son’s eyes. A wave of bitterness swept over him. His eldest son lost, his wife estranged. Antonia attacked. This was his reward for dreaming of a path forward for Britanni and Romans together. Better he’d died with Boudicca opposing them! He’d made a silent vow in the Stone Circles to lay down his Roman sword, not take up arms again in the Roman cause, but to accept his destiny as protector of his people. Yet he was helpless to aid his own family, or Gallus – who might as well have been family – in his time of need.
“There’s one last thing that can be done,” Niko said. He went out of the room.
“I’m deeply saddened this happened, Antonia. If I’d been here –”
“If you’d been here, Tiberius, it would’ve happened at another time.”
“Go, see to it that Warrior is well taken care of,” he said to the children. “He worked hard today. Take apples from the kitchen. For your donkey as well.”
“But it’s dark outside. We go to bed when it’s dark!”
His son stroked the girl’s arm, hushing her.
“Go to bed. I’ll do it.”
The child set her mouth firmly. “I’ll take an apple to Gallusina first.”
The children scurried out.
There was so much that should be said, but no words to say it.
* * *
Niko came back after everyone except Togidubnus was sleeping. A pale sliver of moon was rising over the ragged silhouette of the villa’s just started east wing, now sparkling with snow. He went out onto the colonnade to speak to him. The Greek was holding a slim bunch of feathery plants with small white flowers that looked to him to be something the local sheep herders called cow parsley.
“Not too hard to find, even in snow,” Niko said. “It grows everywhere, especially damp, shady places.”
“What is it?”
“The one last thing to be done.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I can’t prevent Gallus’s death. Neither can you. Once Roman justice gets underway, there’s no stopping it. But I can prevent his suffering.” The Greek fingered the stems cautiously. “I’ll need to make up a potion. After that, the utensils I use must be smashed or buried, never to be used again.”
“A physician who knows how to kill – painlessly?” His own shameful powerlessness to save a man who’d been his friend goaded him to add, “You’ve done this before.”
Niko stood motionless, his hands holding the poison plants. “My past is none of your concern.”
“Forgive me. I spoke in pain, not malice.”
“Hemlock is very powerful. He’ll sink into sleep and not wake again. In Greece it’s used for humane executions.”
He understood what Niko wouldn’t say: The Greek physician had first-hand knowledge of this. Had there been some cloud over his own practice? Perhaps that was why he’d been reluctant to return to Greece when Antonia’s father had freed him. Whatever the man’s reason might be, it was not his concern. “How will you get it to him? How can you hope to pass the guards?”
“I have a friend, a legionary wh
o performs guard duty tonight.”
He’d heard the gossip about Niko’s young friend. “This will be dangerous. The chances of discovery –”
“Do we have another choice?”
They went into the kitchen, deserted at this hour. Two oil lamps cast flickering shadows on the walls, shedding enough light for Niko to work. He watched as the man carefully laid the plants on a stone cutting board with a depression in the middle meant to catch blood and meat juices. Niko took out his own bone-handled knife and sliced the stems into small pieces. He wrapped the blade in a piece of sacking from the rubble the builders left outside. Carefully holding the wrapped blade, he used the bone hilt to crush the stems. A thin trickle of sap ran out into the depression, less than would fill a small wine-cup. Tilting the stone board, he gently poured the liquid into a small glass phial which he stoppered and put away in the pocket it had come from.
“The stone didn’t absorb the poison. But to be safe, it should be buried deep in the earth where no one will find it.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He was tormented with grief for Gallus and the knowledge of what Niko was preparing.
“My knife I’ll clean in the flame.” Niko took the glass shade off one of the oil lamps, turned up the flame and held the blade in it, turning it back and forth till it blackened. The sacking burned next with an oily smell. Then he put the knife away. “I’ll leave immediately.”
“Take a horse. Take Snowmark – she’ll be fresh.”
The Greek nodded and headed for the door.
This wasn’t right. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”
