*
An early dinner with the children. Valerius cradled Olivia on his knee while he ate and Lucius attempted to maintain a decorous silence that came hard to an effervescent six-year-old. After months apart there were things that required to be discussed, but during the meal Valerius and Tabitha concentrated on small talk. When the servants had removed the dishes Lucius shot to his feet with a scrap of papyrus in his hand and a look of rapt anticipation on his face.
‘Very well.’ Valerius struggled to maintain a grave dignity while Tabitha grinned at him from the other side of the table. ‘Continue.’
‘The Boy who Cried Wolf,’ Lucius announced in a high-pitched, nervous voice. ‘There once was a shepherd boy who was bored …’ He stumbled his way through the first few sentences of the Latin version of a story by the Greek writer Aesop, and tailed away as the villagers grew angrier at the vexing false alarms.
‘That’s very good, Lucius,’ Valerius said. ‘Has your tutor told you what the story means?’
‘Yes, Father.’ The boy blushed. ‘It is about the importance of telling the truth.’
‘And how is your addition proceeding?’ Tabitha flashed her husband a warning. Lucius was already showing some of his mother’s aptitude for languages, but numbers remained a puzzle to him.
‘Not so well, Father.’ The boy hung his head.
‘Don’t worry.’ Valerius smiled. ‘Attend to your lessons and it will soon become second nature. I was the same at your age.’
‘Thank you, Father.’ Lucius’s face brightened. ‘May I take Khamsin for a ride outside the walls before bed?’
Valerius looked to Tabitha, remembering We have our routine with a shiver of recollection. She nodded her assent. ‘Very well. But take Rufius with you.’
‘And don’t try to lose him this time,’ Tabitha warned.
The boy bowed and scampered from the room, calling for Rufius Florus, the trooper who had the unenviable task of acting as his personal bodyguard. Valerius handed Olivia to her mother. Tabitha unpinned her stola and placed the baby at her breast, where Olivia swiftly fastened like a limpet. They lay back in companionable silence for a while, Valerius watching his wife and child and Tabitha watching him, enjoying the attention. After so many months of solely male companionship and constant decision-making, Valerius felt as if he’d washed up on an island in a sea of tranquillity.
‘So I am the wife of the governor,’ she said lightly.
‘Acting, temporary …’
‘And unpaid.’ She completed the legionary’s mantra with a smile. ‘How did Julius react to the news of Vespasian’s death?’
It was a natural enough question, under the circumstances, but Valerius sensed a deeper meaning and chose his words with care.
‘It was difficult to tell in the short time I was with him. He’d had most of the day to digest the news and, of course, it wasn’t completely unexpected. Certainly no tears or anguish. Concern, I suppose, at losing such a high-ranking patron. I’ve learned he’s a man who can’t abide uncertainty. I think that is why he was in such a hurry to report to Rome. To a certain extent his entire career depends on this campaign. Not to say his name. With Vespasian in power he could well have been awarded a triumph if he returned with Calgacus on a rope halter. With Titus, it might be different.’
‘Calgacus?’
‘A Celtic war leader who allied himself with the Brigantes.’ He frowned at the memory of the giant silhouette against the sky. ‘A huge man with an enormous sword and an even bigger reputation among his people. He will be a formidable opponent.’
She heard something in his voice and he saw a shadow pass over her eyes. ‘Beware this Calgacus, Valerius.’
‘Is that your god talking?’ He smiled.
‘No,’ she said gravely. ‘Elah Gebal would not set foot in this gloomy place. It is your wife. Rome may keep its honours and glory and conquest as long as I keep my husband. I know you too well, Valerius. You can never turn away from a challenge.’
He looked thoughtful for a moment, but when he spoke again it was to answer the question behind her original one. ‘How will Vespasian’s death affect my relationship with Agricola, such as it is? I don’t know, but I suspect he will be more wary of offending me because of my friendship with Titus. For a man of his ambitions that would only be sensible. In the past he has been pleased to give me independent commands and then taken me to task when I availed myself of that independence. On the other hand, I’ve always made my decisions and dispositions based on situations and circumstances, so in truth it changes nothing.’
‘You never take his feelings or his likely reaction into consideration?’
He looked puzzled. ‘What have feelings got to do with war?’
‘Oh, Valerius.’ Tabitha laughed. ‘Titus told me before we left Rome that he thought you were becoming more diplomatic as you grew older. You seem to have forgotten everything you’ve learned since you met Julius Agricola.’ She shook her head in mock exasperation. ‘Will our lives change now that you are a proconsul, however temporary?’
‘I don’t intend them to,’ he said. ‘My main responsibility will be to ensure the ceremonies during the mourning period are conducted properly, but the priests will do all the work. I’ll operate from here as long as it doesn’t interfere with your routine. Any receptions will be at the governor’s palace. You’ll see a bit more of Metilius Aprilis and his clerks, but that shouldn’t be— Is something wrong?’
‘No.’ She drew the word out so that it took on a different meaning. ‘Or possibly.’ She hesitated. ‘Metilius has been paying a lot of attention to Lucius. He often calls in to see him or take him riding. Lately he’s been teaching him how to wrestle. Rufius is concerned.’ She saw Valerius’s expression harden. ‘No, it’s nothing like that, nothing physical. I make sure there’s always someone with them. In any case, I’m certain Metilius isn’t … like that.’
‘Yes?’
‘A woman can tell, Valerius.’
Olivia lifted her head with an audible pop and Tabitha shifted her expertly to the opposite breast.
‘It’s Rufius’s job to be concerned. How does Lucius feel about it?’
‘I haven’t asked him, but he always seems pleased to see Metilius. It’s just …’ She frowned. ‘A grown man and a six-year-old boy. It seems an unlikely friendship.’
‘Very well.’ Valerius gave it a moment’s thought. ‘I’ll talk to Rufius and perhaps have a word with Lucius. Is there anything else?’
‘I think … no, I’m certain I’m being followed.’
It shouldn’t have surprised him after all their past experiences, but for some reason the breath seemed to freeze in his chest. ‘Who?’
She told him about the man Ceris had seen entering the governor’s palace.
‘You didn’t feel under any threat?’
‘No, truly.’
‘But he looked as if he belonged there and he didn’t leave?’
‘Not while Ceris was there.’
This was a problem of a different order and it would take some consideration. Valerius had a feeling he knew who was behind it. Why was a different proposition, with more than one possible answer. The one consolation was that circumstances had changed. A new order now prevailed in Rome, one that could swing the balance considerably.
‘I should have told you earlier,’ she apologized.
‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
XI
The summer passed in a blur for Valerius. When he wasn’t involved in the ceremonies to mark Vespasian’s passing, his greatest pleasure was to ride out far beyond the walls with his family to bathe in the cool, clear upper waters of the brook that wound its way through the city before emptying into the Tamesa.
He spent much of his time arbitrating disputes between rival priests vying for the positions of supremacy – and profit – during the multiple ceremonies mourning the Emperor’s earthly passing and celebrating his deification. A team of sc
ribes followed him around the city as he established who was officiating where and in what capacity, but he soon discovered that the clerks were themselves far from averse to accepting an incentive to alter the line of precedence. The procession of wailing priests who found their way to his door only stopped when he guaranteed that the next scribe caught taking so much as a sestertius would end up tied in a sack with a dog, a cockerel and a cat and thrown into the Tamesa. As Tabitha pointed out, the sight of Gaius Valerius Verrens in a towering rage was enough to convince any ink-stained clerk or lisping priest that he meant precisely what he said. The ceremonies would mirror, as precisely as possible, those being attended in Rome by Titus and Agricola. Statues of the late emperor in his various guises as priest, administrator and soldier had to be commissioned and food and wine ordered, for the events would be followed by a festival which every resident of Londinium and the surrounding area could attend. Somehow he also found time to decide on a site, confirm the design and consecrate the foundation trench of a new temple which would be jointly dedicated to Jupiter and the newly deified Vespasian.
Meantime, the work of governing the province continued. Britannia’s procurator and quaestor were perfectly capable men, but he found himself relying more and more on Metilius Aprilis, who was seldom far from his shoulder during working hours. He’d spoken to Rufius Florus about the friendship between Agricola’s aide and Lucius, but the cavalryman couldn’t specify what made him uneasy, only that something did. Lucius, approached obliquely, was no more forthcoming, simply confirming that he enjoyed Metilius’s attention. The young man himself was perfectly amenable, pleasant and professional. Valerius had to remind himself that this fresh-faced tribune had almost certainly either murdered or supervised the murder of his predecessor as legate of the Ninth. Caristanius Fronto had been discovered at the foot of an Ordovice cliff. Aprilis was Agricola’s man, hand and heart; the question was whether he was also someone else’s.
Just before Valerius arrived in Britannia he’d received information from a source close to Domitian. It appeared that Vespasian’s son was in contact with a person of high rank in the province, probably a legate, and the name Verrens had been mentioned in their correspondence. Valerius discreetly checked the backgrounds of his three fellow legates. He discovered no direct link, though Herenius Polio, commander of the Second Adiutrix, was the uncle of an officer of Domitian’s personal guard. That might have aroused his suspicions, but Polio had never treated him with anything but respect and gave the impression that any sort of intrigue was beneath him.
It must have been two or three days after the kalends of August when Quintus, his doorman, announced the arrival of a visitor who declined to come any further than the courtyard. Valerius emerged into the sunshine and felt a rush of pleasure when he recognized Gaius Rufus. They greeted each other like old friends and Valerius invited the diminutive scout inside.
Rufus laughed. ‘I stink like an aurochs in heat and I have more fleas than an Asturian sheepdog. Your atriensis looked as though he might faint.’
‘Then we’ll sit out here.’ Valerius grinned, glad of the chance to escape from his scrolls for an hour or two. ‘Bring some wine,’ he called to the servant. ‘The biggest jug we have.’
Rufus licked his lips in anticipation. For such a small man he had a large appetite for the fermented grape. ‘I would have been here a week earlier,’ he went on, his tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. ‘But an impulse took me to Colonia to sacrifice to the genius of my father. The older I get the closer I feel to his shade.’
‘There couldn’t have been any urgency.’ Valerius dismissed the part-apology. ‘When we visited last year I found the town changed, but the temple much the same.’
‘No loose tiles in the cella these days.’ Rufus’s words stirred a mutual memory of fire and destruction that provoked a period of silent reflection.
‘I thought only the priests had access to the cella?’ Valerius said eventually.
‘Since when has that been a problem for a man of my talents?’ The scout grinned. ‘I couldn’t pass the place without taking a look.’
The wine came and they drank together, Rufus savouring every mouthful after his long journey and Valerius’s mind flickering between the spider’s web of responsibilities Agricola had bequeathed him. ‘I take it this isn’t just a social visit,’ he said eventually.
‘Calgacus.’
‘Yes?’ Valerius half turned to ensure Tabitha was nowhere close.
‘He’s a slippery one. As slippery as I’ve ever known.’
‘I thought I told you to stay with the Ninth.’
‘I reckoned the Ninth would eventually be heading north. Not this season, right enough, what with them cosying up the fort at Brynmochdar for the winter while the harvest is still being gathered. The Twentieth and the Second, too, once they’ve finished settling in all those Brigante prisoners you freed and building the forts that will keep them settled.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘I followed their tracks for two days. A hundred and fifty horses, but only a hundred of them laden. Then they took to the hills and I lost them for a bit. When I finally worked out what had happened it took me half a day to backtrack.’
‘They doubled back on you?’
‘Partly, but it surprised me because it was such a crude attempt at concealing their tracks. Then I finally worked it out. They’d split. The men on ponies took to the hills and those on our stolen beasts either doubled back, or more likely didn’t go that way at all. It took a while to dawn on me that I hadn’t seen a big hoof for a while.’
‘A careful man,’ Valerius mused.
‘More than careful.’ Rufus grinned. ‘A proper fox.’
‘He knew the big horses would be a liability in the hills,’ Valerius said thoughtfully. ‘But he wanted us to follow him there. So he sent the ponies into the hills and kept the horses on the flat where they could make ground on us.’
Rufus nodded in agreement. ‘He didn’t know you weren’t going to follow with the legion, but he made certain that if you did he’d be able to stay one step ahead.’
‘And now he’s where?’
‘There’s more,’ the little man said cheerfully, replenishing his wine. ‘He’s not alone.’
‘No?’
‘I tracked him to a valley, well hidden, but good water and grazing. It must be close to the border between the Brigantes and the Selgovae because he stopped to wait for the men on ponies. The last two miles of his tracks had been obliterated by thousands of feet.’
The cup froze partway to Valerius’s mouth. ‘How many thousands?’
Rufus shrugged. ‘Five. Ten. Who knows.’
‘Calgacus does,’ Valerius said bitterly.
‘I followed their trail on the way back.’
‘Brigantes.’
‘Not all of them appreciate your idea of Roman hospitality,’ Rufus agreed. ‘They must have set out as soon as you’d turned them loose.’
‘Women and children?’
‘Warriors, too.’
‘How could you know from their tracks?’
Rufus laughed. ‘How could anyone with his eyes not?’
‘So I’ve provided him with an army.’
‘The beginnings of one.’ Rufus nodded.
Valerius stood up and looked to the skies. Scarlet-cheeked swallows and scythe-winged swifts slashed the air among the buildings, their screams of ecstasy echoing from the daub walls. Who knew where they went in the winter, but wherever a building rose they always appeared to build a nest in summer.
‘I want you to take lodgings here.’
‘For how long?’
‘As long as it takes.’
‘To do what?’
‘To make a map. I want to know everything you’ve seen and everything you’ve heard about the country between Brynmochdar and the place you found them. And everything you’ve heard about what lies three or four days’ march beyond. I’ll give you a warrant for the mansio a
nd send an engineer to help with the drawing.’
‘All right,’ Rufus agreed. ‘But you haven’t heard the best of it. Or maybe the worst.’
‘What?’
‘Calgacus has a druid with him. A blind druid.’
Gwlym.
Valerius had searched for the druid among the countless victims of Agricola’s invasion of Mona. Failure had provoked a curious mix of relief and disappointment that the malevolent creature who had threatened his wife and child with the most hideous of deaths was gone from his life, but probably not from the world. At least he’d been able to content himself with the knowledge that Gwlym would never be in a position to threaten Tabitha again.
Now he was back.
For a few days it tormented him that the blind priest had probably been within ballista-throw of him at Brynmochdar. He took a little time each day to study the ever-growing detail as Rufus dredged his memory to add to the map of northern Britannia. In his mind the map became the key to not just the downfall of Calgacus, but also the druid’s doom.
Yet all this was swept away when Agricola returned unexpectedly from Rome.
Valerius received a surprise invitation to the governor’s mansion on the last day of August. Agricola hadn’t been due to return for another two weeks and Valerius had his clerks hurriedly gather the documents required to update him on the current state of the province and the progress of the new temple. But when an aide ushered him into the governor’s private offices Agricola, in an obvious state of agitation, showed no interest in the papers but dismissed the clerks with a wave of his hand.
‘Aprilis will update me later.’ The governor paced the room for a few moments with his eyes on the marble floor and his brow creased by a frown of concentration. His clothes were still travel-stained and Valerius realized the summons had come even before he had disembarked. ‘The campaign will resume immediately,’ Agricola said abruptly. ‘The Ninth will continue up the eastern route in parallel with the Second Adiutrix in the west. While you’re on the march Ursus and his Twentieth will complete the consolidation of Brigante country and the organization of the tribal lands into administrative townships.’
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