'What did he say, Marcus?' Albilla had taken a napkin from beneath her cloak and was wiping her lips.
'He asked if you wanted to go in.'
Albilla's eyes went to the woman with the bucket. She was big and brawny, almost as well-muscled as her husband. The pig's blood had splashed over her bare arms and mottled her face with specks of red.
Albilla shuddered. 'Tell him no thank you,' she said. 'Marcus, that was horrible.'
'It was only a pig-killing. You'd never seen one before?'
'No.' Albilla took a gulp of air. 'You can let go of me now. I'm all right.'
'You're sure?'
'Of course I'm sure. Stop fussing.' She took another deep breath, held it, then exhaled. She did not look at the pig. 'Is this the right place?'
'Yes. The horse is round the back.' Severinus turned to Moricamulos. 'The lady will come as well,’ he said. ‘Our thanks, though, for the offer.'
'Is it the morning sickness?' Moricamulos said. 'Lacta's quiet enough, but perhaps not the horse for a woman in cub. I've another that might suit her better, if you'd care to see it.'
'No, she's not pregnant.' Severinus stifled a grin. 'Just squeamish.'
'So.' Moricamulos nodded, satisfied. 'My sister's daughter is the same, poor girl. Heaven help the man she marries. Well, come you both this way.'
He led them round the side of the hut. The mare stood alone in the paddock, pulling at a net of hay fastened to a hurdle. She was a beauty, milk-white like her name, almost Tanet's size and much bigger than Severinus had expected. Younger, too, no more than four years old. Judging by the sheen on her coat and the ripple of muscle at shoulder and hind she had been well fed and looked after. That, at least, he had expected: the British cared for their horses as well as they did for their children.
'She's broken to the saddle?' he asked.
'Aye.' Moricamulos had stopped a good three yards short of the hurdle; he would go no closer, Severinus knew, with the smell of blood on his hands. 'I did it myself.' He whistled, and the mare cantered over readily and stood waiting without any trace of nervousness: another good sign. 'Go you in and look, sir. Take your time.'
Severinus moved the hurdle aside. The mare watched him, but she did not move.
'You want to come too, Albilla?' he said in Latin.
'Of course.' Albilla still looked pale, but she had regained some of her perkiness. 'She's lovely, isn't she?'
'She is that. And the man seems honest enough.' Severinus walked across the patchy grass, his eyes taking in the mare's points. They were all good: strong hip bones, a clean coat with no bald patches, spine straight with no bowing. He reached out and touched her head. The mare shifted and blew down her nose, bending her muzzle down to butt his chest. 'I'd say you're in luck. She's a fine animal.'
'Can I try her out? Just here in the paddock.'
'Best let me first.' He turned. 'Moricamulos!'
'Aye.'
'Have you a saddle and a set of tack we can borrow?'
'Surely.' The man disappeared in the direction of the barn.
Albilla was stroking the horse's neck while she fed her the apple she had brought. Her eyes were as bright as the mare's.
'Marcus, she's absolutely beautiful!' she said. 'And I'm sorry for being so silly earlier. It was just –'
'Forget it.' Severinus had squatted down and was examining the horse's hooves. They were thick and strong, with no splits. 'I didn't expect it myself. Most of the farmers have done their winter slaughtering long since.' He straightened and wiped his hands on his cloak.
'What did Mori say to you, by the way? Just before he brought us round?'
'He thought you might be pregnant.'
Albilla laughed. 'That's lovely! I hope you told him I was.'
Their eyes held for a moment. Severinus looked away.
'There's a good stretch of field here,' he said. 'I'll take her round it and if she handles well then you can have a go yourself. Then if we're both still happy with her we can get down to talking price.'
'Good.' Albilla paused. Then she said, in a different voice: 'Marcus, why don't you like me?'
'What?' He raised his eyes, startled.
'It's a simple enough question.' She was fondling the lock of hair on Lacta's forehead, not looking at him. 'You don't, do you?'
'Of course I like you!'
'No, you don't. You know what I mean. You make that quite obvious.' She turned. 'Or maybe it isn't me, or just me. Maybe it's my parents. Oh, I know they can be pains, but they're quite sweet, really, even Mother on a good day, and they try so hard.'
'Albilla, for the gods' sake! I don't dislike your parents!' Severinus found himself flushing: he had never felt comfortable with lies, even white ones.
Albilla shook her head. 'I wouldn't have mentioned it,' she said, 'but...well...' – she hesitated – 'there's that stuffed fish Agricola. He's very good-looking, of course, and Mother's quite keen. I don't actually dislike him, but the thought of an engagement...'
The word had been said. Severinus looked away, and the silence lengthened.
'Here we are.' Moricamulos reappeared carrying a saddle, saddlecloth and harness. 'I'll have her ready for you in a moment.'
'No, give them to me.' Severinus turned away from Albilla. 'I'll do it myself.'
He saddled and bridled the mare while Moricamulos watched with critical approval. Then, still not looking at Albilla, he mounted the horse and gathered up the reins.
'I'll just take her across the field,' he said.
'Fair enough,' Moricamulos grunted. 'She'll enjoy the exercise. What with the pig killing she's had none this morning.'
Severinus raised his hand and swung the horse round, feeling her eagerness between his thighs. He set her off on a light rein towards the gap leading from paddock to field, then suddenly brought his knees together and crouched low, giving her her head.
She took off like a bird and the wind caught him, cold against his exposed skin with a dusting of fresh, powdery snow. He dug his knees in harder and felt the mare respond, reaching for the gallop. A bare three strides from the broken line of the beck at the field's far side he dropped the rein and pulled her round hard in a cavalry turn, then as her hindquarters dropped drove both knees into her flanks and crouched low, sending her downstream like an arrow. At the edge of the field he turned again in a flurry of earth and snow and brought her to the gallop in a long, wide, curving sweep towards his starting point. As he neared the hurdle where Moricamulos and Albilla were waiting, he straightened in the saddle, pulling gently on the reins. The mare responded at once, slackening her pace to a walk. He pulled her up short and dismounted.
Moricamulos had been watching him closely. He was nodding in approval.
'Aye,' he said. 'Good. Very good. I couldn't have done much better myself.'
'She's a fine horse.' Severinus patted the mare's flank. 'You've trained her well.'
'I've taken a bit of trouble with her.' Moricamulos grinned. 'She'll be as good as any in a year or two, a proper swallow.' He turned an eye on Albilla. 'Mind you, I'm thinking that the lady will be somewhat less demanding.'
Severinus offered Albilla the reins. 'Your turn,' he said.
She shook her head. 'How was she?'
'Perfect. A beauty, biddable and soft as milk. You were right, she's well named.'
'Then we'll buy her.'
'You don't want to ride her first?'
'No. I'll take your word for it. Besides, in these conditions I'd probably fall off.' Albilla grinned, although the smile did not touch her eyes. 'Isn't that what Mori was saying?'
'No.' Severinus felt uncomfortable. 'Not at all. You're sure?'
'I'm sure.' Albilla kissed the mare's nose, then looked up again. 'Anyway, I don't care if I can never ride her, Marcus. She's sweet. Buy her for me?'
'If you want.'
'Yes, I do want. Very much.'
Her eyes were still on his. Severinus turned to Moricamulos.
'The lady is asking
the price,' he said brusquely.
Moricamulos reached out and touched the horse's muzzle. 'It's cold out here for haggling,' he said. 'We'll go inside and settle matters in comfort.'
. . .
The hut was smaller than Brocomaglos's, but just as neat and clean, and the fire on the central hearth was bright and smokeless. Moricamulos reached for the steaming jug at its edge.
‘You’ll take some ale?’ he said.
Severinus nodded. 'Gladly.'
The dunsman poured two horn cups and held them out. 'Your health. Yours and the lady's.' He indicated two wicker chairs beside the hearth. 'Sit you down and warm yourselves.'
Albilla sat carefully. Severinus noticed that her lips puckered as she sipped the honeyed ale, but she did not set the cup aside.
'So.' Moricamulos had pulled up a wooden stool for himself. 'Our Lacta pleased you.'
'Very much.'
'She should. Her grandmother was from the old king's stable.'
'The old king?'
'Cunobelinos, that died before you Romans came.'
'Is that so, now?' It could have been a ploy – the excellence of the Catuvellaunan king’s horses was already the stuff of legend – but the mare had good blood, that was obvious. 'She's big for a native-bred horse, all the same.'
'Aye.' Moricamulos blew on his beer. 'She's a cross. Her father was one of yours, a Spaniard, although I had him from the Iceni.'
'The Iceni breed from Roman stock?'
'For racing, aye.' Moricamulos laughed. 'They're mighty racers, the Iceni.'
Severinus looked at Albilla. She was sitting prim and erect as a schoolgirl, holding her cup with both hands, sipping at it like medicine. 'So, Moricamulos,’ he said. ‘What price would you set on this princess among horses?'
Moricamulos rose and took the jug from the hearth. Carefully, he filled his own cup, then Severinus's.
'Ten gold pieces,' he said.
Severinus caught the finality in the man's voice: there would be no haggling, it seemed, after all, despite what he had said outside. The price was high, but fair. He turned to Albilla and repeated it in Latin.
'Does the lady agree?' Moricamulos sipped his beer.
'Tell him yes, Marcus.' Albilla was smiling.
Severinus smiled back. 'Then you've bought yourself a horse,' he said.
. . .
They set off back towards the gate of the dun, Albilla in front. Moricamulos had included the borrowed saddle and harness in the price and she was riding Lacta with her pony following on a short halter. Severinus was frowning as he rode. He liked the girl; of course he did, he liked her very much, he always had. Perhaps he even loved her. But all the same, in a way, she had been right...
'You're very quiet, Marcus.' Albilla had turned round. She was smiling at him.
'Mm?' He jerked on the rein and Tanet's head came up. 'I'm sorry. I was just thinking.'
'What about?'
'That perhaps we should get engaged.'
The words were out, too late now to call back.
Albilla had pulled Lacta up hard and was waiting for him to draw level. She had stopped smiling.
'That's not funny,' she said. 'Not even remotely so.'
'It wasn't meant to be.'
They stared at each other for a long time, knees touching. Then, slowly and carefully, Albilla leaned over and kissed him.
'In that case, yes,' she said, her voice grave. 'Yes, I would like that very much.'
Severinus laughed. He leaned over and pulled Albilla towards him. The two horses shifted nervously.
'Marcus! Be careful!' Albilla was laughing too now. 'You'll have us over!'
He slackened his grip. 'My father's going to kill me for this,' he said. 'You know that, don't you?'
'Not if Mother gets you first. She's invited Gnaeus Agricola to dinner tonight.'
The horses began to move apart, and they straightened in the saddle. Albilla's face was bright red. Severinus suspected that his own was, too.
'Then it's the perfect time to break the news,' he said.
13.
'You're what?' Aper stared at him from where he lay on the dining couch.
‘Engaged to Arrenia Albilla.'
'Jupiter's holy beard, boy!' The book his father had been reading rolled itself up unnoticed in his lap. 'It's not a month since you told me–!'
'Titus, that's quite enough.' Ursina leaned over in her own chair and hugged her son. 'Congratulations, Marcus. From both of us.'
'It surprised me, too, Dad.' Severinus kissed his mother's cheek. 'If that's any consolation.'
'None whatsoever.' Aper carefully wound the worn translation of Xenophon onto its spool and replaced it in the box at his side. 'You daft young bugger!'
'Titus!'
Severinus laughed. 'It can't be that bad, surely?'
Aper's mouth twisted. 'It's all right for you,' he said. 'Albilla's a good enough girl and for some reason she's always had a fancy for you. But, oh, gods, Marcus, I could've done without Bellicia for a relative!'
'Don't be silly.' Ursina smiled and wiped her eyes on her mantle. 'Do her parents know yet, Marcus?'
'Albilla's probably telling them right this minute.' Severinus sat down and helped himself to a cup of wine from the jug on the brazier.
'Uricalus will be cock-a-whoop, that's certain.' Aper held out his own cup for Severinus to fill. 'The old devil's been angling for this for years. Bellicia now...well, with that young tribune almost in the bag I reckon if we listened hard enough we could hear the screams.'
'Nonsense.' Ursina's lips twitched. 'Bellicia will be delighted, I'm sure, like the rest of us.'
'Aye, maybe. And pigs might fly.'
'When is the wedding to be, Marcus? Have you and Albilla decided?'
'Not for a while yet. At least a year. I don't break all my promises, and I've the Foxes to consider.'
'I'm delighted you remembered that, at least, boy,' Aper grunted. 'It shows you haven't lost your senses altogether.'
'I seem to recall that you were quite anxious yourself to get me in post after we were engaged, dear,' Ursina said.
'That was different, Bear-cub. You know it was.'
'Was it?'
'I was stationed at Mainz. Braniacum's the back of beyond.'
'It isn't all that far away. Just this side of the Icenian border.'
'Dad's right, Mother,' Severinus said. 'We can wait. Besides, I doubt if Albilla's in any hurry to swap the Colony for a barrack block.'
'She'll have to eventually all the same. If she's lucky and you get permission to take her in post with you.' Aper's single eye rested on his son. 'You've both thought of that, I suppose?'
'Aye. We have.' Severinus tried to keep his voice light; Aper had made a valid point, and all of them knew it. Ursina had been a soldier's daughter herself and used to forts, while Albilla was from a merchant family, Colony born and bred. His father was right; there was all the difference in the world. 'She'll be fine when the time comes.'
'Of course she will,' Ursina said quickly. 'You're very lucky, both of you.'
'That you are.' Aper stood up. 'Well, I hadn't expected to be drinking Falernian tonight but events seem to demand it. We've a jar in the cellar I was keeping for a special occasion and perhaps now's the time. Come and help me find it, Marcus.'
Severinus shot him a puzzled glance, but his father was already on his feet and moving off. He got up and followed.
The wine cellar lay down a half flight of steps to the rear of the kitchen. Aper picked up an oil lamp from the table, lit it at the stove and led the way in silence. At the bottom he turned. His expression, in the flickering light of the lamp, was serious.
Severinus knew trouble when he saw it. Whatever his father wanted with him, it was not help with the wine.
'Dad, I...' he began.
Aper waved him down. 'No, boy, it's nothing to do with your engagement. Or not directly. Young Albilla has her head screwed on, and she knows what she's letting herself in fo
r. I've no quarrel with her.'
'So you don't mind?'
'Jupiter, would it matter if I did?' Aper half-laughed. 'I'd have made a different choice, myself, especially with Uricalus and Bellicia as parents-in-law, but that's neither here nor there. Don't worry. You have my blessing, as always.'
'So what is it?'
His father set the lamp down on the stone rack that stretched the length of the cellar.
'A bit of news,' he said. 'While you were off gallivanting this morning I was talking to Adaucius Montanus.'
'The procurator's man?'
'Aye. It seems he's had instructions from London about Prasutagos's will. Montanus doesn't like them more than half, but there isn't anything he can do about it. He's to send assessors forthwith to the royal dun at Coriodurum to make a complete inventory for immediate requisition. Public and private. By force, if necessary.'
'Mothers!' Severinus stared at him. 'The Iceni'll never stand for it!'
'Right.' Aper's face was grim. 'That was Montanus's first thought too.
He sent word back to Catus to that effect and got his backside chewed off for his pains by return.'
'But no one's that stupid! Not even a procurator would –!'
'Montanus is of the opinion that Catus doesn't care. He wants to provoke a revolt so we can annexe the kingdom.'
'But that's criminal!'
'It's politics, Marcus.' Aper shrugged. 'And criminal it may be, but more to the point it's bloody dangerous. Especially now.'
'Can't he be stopped? Surely the governor would never –'
'I talked to Paullinus myself. That was Montanus's reason for telling me. He's a good man, but he's no soldier. He knew if I went to the governor I'd have more chance of being listened to.'
'And were you?'
'Like hell I was! I had my own backside chewed off for interfering in matters that didn't concern me. Paullinus doesn't consider the Iceni a threat, or nothing Cerialis and the Ninth can't handle if they have to.' Aper's voice was sour. 'Also, of course, Catus is acting for the emperor. Even a governor can't ignore Nero Caesar.'
'So what's Montanus going to do?'
'Carry out the order. He has no choice. Oh, he can delay things for a month or so, maybe longer. He isn't a bureaucrat for nothing, and the weather's in his favour. But before the year's much older he'll have to do as he's told, and the Iceni aren't going to like it.' He paused. 'Which is why we're talking down here without your mother listening. You understand me?'
The Horse Coin Page 9
