Island of Ghosts

by Gillian Bradshaw

  “Where were you?” asked Pervica.

  “I was beyond the Caspian Sea when my family’s messenger found me and called me back. I’d been planning to ride with my companions as far as the Jade Gate of the Silk Country.”

  “Why?” she asked, dizzy with the distance. “Why so far?”

  I laughed. “This story grows longer with every question. For glory! I was mad for glory when I was young. I wanted to fight a griffin in the mountains of the North and steal its gold; I wanted to ride the horses of the sun, and rescue a princess from a tower of iron. I wanted to do anything great, daring, and splendid. I was impatient with the world, and wanted more than it offered me. And at any rate, I wanted to see more of the world than my own country. We had traveled slowly, taking time to see everything, and my family’s messenger caught up with us without difficulty, but still, it took months to come home.”

  “I’ve never been further from Corstopitum than once to Eburacum,” Pervica said, in a low voice.

  “It is easier for my people to travel than it is for yours,” I said. “When we set out for the Jade Gate, we brought our wagons, and flocks to support ourselves, and asked grazing rights from the people we journeyed among. It was not very different than moving from spring to summer grazing grounds. And we were among Sarmatian tribes as far as the Caspian Sea, and after that among the Massagetae and Dahae, who understand our language.”

  She nodded, then suddenly gave me a radiant smile. “You’ll have to tell me. I want to hear everything about it. The Jade Gate of the Silk Country! It sounds like a song.”

  “I never reached it,” I said-and remembered the morning when I turned back, how I stood in the dry scrubland beyond the Caspian and strained my eyes to catch the shadow of the distant mountains of the East, and saw only the sun rising bloodred over an endless plain. I had dreamed of those mountains, and I’d known then that I would never see them. I wept as much for that as for my father’s death-though I’d loved him.

  I bowed my head at the memory and went on. “When I returned and received the scepter, I found that the fortunes of my family were staggering. We had lost dependants along with the grazing rights, and many of our people were trickling away to other lords, thinking that the luck of our inheritance had failed. It was clear to me that I needed to obtain honor and a reputation as a leader in war, and that I needed wealth in goods and in flocks, both to encourage the waverers to return to us and to reward those who were still loyal. I could obtain everything I needed if I crossed the Danube. Everyone relied upon me to go. So I did. I wanted glory, anyway.” I was silent, thinking of where I, and other daring raiders like me, had brought us all.

  “What happened to Rhusciporis?” asked Flavina, after a minute.

  “When I was successful, I got the grazing rights back, or most of them. I made presents to the king from the spoils of my raids, and asked him to adjudicate again, and he decided in my favor, and made Rhusciporis return my father’s skull as well. I taunted Rhusciporis with my successes, and my followers swaggered before his just as they now swagger before the Asturians. But we never fought. We had sworn peace. He died in the war.”

  I hesitated. I knew that Pervica was deeply unhappy about the planned duel with Arshak, and I wanted to explain to her why it was necessary. A Sarmatian woman might have been eager for me to revenge the insult to her dignity, but even if she hadn’t been, she would never have questioned the need to do it. But to Pervica the whole duel was unnecessary and senseless, and it hurt me to think how she would feel if I died in it. “You see,” I went on, slowly, “honor is everything to us. It was the fact that we had glory, not the gifts, that made the king decide for us. Here if a man is appointed to command a troop of cavalry because he bribed the legate, and if he is corrupt and cowardly, still he will be obeyed, because the soldiers respect their discipline. You have an altar to discipline in the chapel of the standards and you worship it as though it were a god. But our people know nothing of that. They expect their commander to bring them honor. If he is weak, they will still try to take pride in him, because their honor is bound to his and they wish to be proud-but if he brings them disgrace, they will begin to desert him, though they will grieve very bitterly over it and reproach themselves as disloyal and reproach him for making them so. Our honor is dearer to us than our blood, and to lose it kills us.”

  Pervica looked at me and smiled sadly. “I understand,” she said.

  I could see that she did. It was a hard thing to ask of a woman who loved me, that she should allow me to die for a cause she considered senseless-but she understood that I had to uphold my honor or be ruined, and she would not oppose me. I smiled at her and touched her hand. I was content.

  XVI

  The following day I received three messages.

  The first, which arrived at about midday, was a very short letter from Facilis, who had gone druid-hunting in Corstopitum.

  “Marcus Flavius Facilis to Lord Ariantes and to his freedman Eukairios sends greetings,” it said. “I found Cunedda. He was killed trying to escape. Farewell.”

  My first reaction was one of relief: now the druid could inform on no one. My second was of shame: that had almost certainly been Facilis’ intention. The centurion had undoubtedly known how to do it: the few words in the ears of the Asturians he brought along to guard the prisoner (“Look, lads, you know what this fellow is. He’ll talk about some of your comrades if the law gets him”)-and then the offered opportunity, the guards apparently asleep or inattentive, the waiting horse, the struggle and the sprint and the spear in the back. Killed trying to escape. A minor disgrace to Facilis (“I caught him, sir, but there was no chance to question him”). For Bodica in Eburacum, anger and relief: she lost her chief adviser, but she was spared exposure. Release to Comittus and perhaps to some other moderate druids in the region-and to Eukairios, salvation. I wondered if the centurion had guessed what Eukairios was, and if that was the reason the letter had been addressed to both of us. It seemed very likely.

  My scribe was certainly very shaken by the letter, understanding it as I had. I gave him the rest of the day off.

  The second message, which Leimanos delivered to me about the middle of the afternoon, was from Arshak.

  “He made no problems about the safe conduct,” my captain reported, “and he treated me honorably. He was pleased with your message, and said to tell you this: ‘Son of Arifarnes, I am glad to see that you haven’t Romanized away your courage. My blood is royal, and I will meet you as what I am. Meet me as what you were, and I will drink to my victory from your skull.’ ” Leimanos gave a snort of anger and contempt, then continued, “The Romans in Condercum, I’m certain, suspect nothing-though they’re unhappy with him, because his men quarrel with theirs and he does nothing to stop them. Half the dragon was confined to barracks when I arrived, and a man had been executed for dueling. When Arshak went to River End he’d slipped out without permission, and now they have the Dalmatian troops from Vindovala guarding all the gates. It was hard to breathe in that fort, my lord, the air was so thick with anger: I thanked the immortal gods for Cilurnum. The Romans were pleased to think that Arshak would go hunting with you. They’d heard that we manage things better here, and they hope you’ll convince him to behave less arrogantly. Arshak is perfectly happy to take precautions against his liaison officer discovering anything and has no argument with a delay to arrange things. He suggests twelve days, in fact, rather than ten, and we tentatively scheduled the meeting for the twenty-third of the month.”

  I frowned at this. This patient caution was not like the Arshak I knew. I wondered if his allies had another scheme under way. Aurelia Bodica must feel threatened by the proposed druidical convocation and the investigations now being carried out in Eburacum and Corstopitum. She would certainly try to move quickly if she could.

  “I would prefer ten days to twelve,” I told Leimanos. “Shall we say, eleven? I will send to suggest it to him-let Banadaspos take the message this time. Did you f
ind a place for the meeting?”

  “Not yet. We’ve agreed to look between Hunnum and Vindovala, about ten miles away from both of us, and to send a messenger when we’ve found somewhere suitable.”

  “I hope he understands to send his messenger care fully The Romans here are less ignorant than the ones in Condercum. Facilis in particular is hard to fool. If he discovers that I’ve had any dealings with Arshak at all, he’ll suspect.”

  “Arshak does know we have to be cautious, my lord. And he is very eager to fight you.” Leimanos looked me over anxiously, appraising my strength for the meeting. He was unhappy with what he saw. “I hope that your leg…” he began.

  “If I have to use my leg, I am a dead man. I will rely on Farna’s.”

  He didn’t like it, and I could see him remembering what I’d been like on our raids, comparing it with my crippled present. He sighed. “Yes, my lord.”

  The third message arrived at night. I had just gone to bed when Eukairios came and knocked on the side of my wagon, and I got up to find him standing outside in the frost. It was the dark of the moon, and the campfire had died to embers: I recognized Eukairios only by his voice. With him was another man whom he introduced as Protus, his friend from Corstopitum, a scribe in the office of the municipal archivist.

  I jumped down from the wagon, pulling on my coat. “I believe I am much indebted to you,” I told Protus, shaking his hand. “You sent Eukairios a letter, did you not, when Gatalas mutinied?”

  “You’re not indebted to me for that,” he told me. “I’ve never been so glad of anything I’ve done in my life as I was of sending that letter. God must have helped me write it. If you and your men hadn’t arrived so quickly, the barbarians would’ve sacked Corstopitum. I’ve brought you another letter tonight, Lord Ariantes. I borrowed a horse and rode over with it when I’d finished my work, because the person who gave it to me said it was urgent. It came from Eburacum.” He set it in my hands. The wax seals were stamped with a curving pattern my fingers recognized as a dragon cloak pin. Siyavak.

  I thanked Protus and asked him if he needed food (he did, and I had one of the bodyguard search out some bread and leftover stew for him) and a place to sleep (he said he must ride back to Corstopitum that same night, as he was expected at work in the morning). While he was eating the stew by the rebuilt fire, I lit an oil lamp and took Eukairios into my wagon to read me the letter.

  It was everything I could have asked for. Arshak and Bodica had accepted Siyavak as theirs, and he knew names and places and points of assembly enough to damn them both. He set it out in a few lines, short, sharp, and deadly. The letter concluded,

  Recent events have alarmed her. There is opposi tion to her plans among the druids, and talk of a convocation which she fears may condemn her. She has decided to risk moving at once, before it can meet. Arshak has been asked to mutiny on the twenty-fourth of January, and there is to be an inva sion of the Selgovae and Votadini at the same time. She wants my dragon to mutiny on the same day; she has allies within the legion [and he gave names] who will mutiny with us, and let us out of the fortress if things go badly. There are also to be uprisings in [and he gave more names and places]. I have sent this in haste. If you act quickly, Prince, they are in your hands, but if you delay, we are ru ined. I will not mutiny, but if I speak defiance to her openly, my life is ended. For the love of honor, act at once! She is a witch and a servant of the Lie and I am afraid of her. I was glad, the god knows it, of the letter you left with me, and the man who writes this letter has spoken comfort to me, but the night is dark. I await your answer.

  He had dated the letter the sixth of January, which was the day I’d left Eburacum; it was now the eleventh. The triumph was like a blaze of lightning. We could strike in force.

  I dictated a reply on the spot:

  Ariantes to Siyavak lord of the fourth dragon sends greetings. Lord, by your courage and loyalty, Gata las is avenged. Have no fear of me or my love for honor. I will act at once, and our enemies will be destroyed. For your part, continue your pretense and allow yourself to be arrested with the conspira tors, for thus you will be safe from their vengeance. As soon as they are secure, you will be released and honored for your loyalty in revenging your lord’s death. This I swear on fire.

  I signed the letter, sealed it, and brought it out of the wagon. I was so stiff with excitement and joy that I wanted to shout. Protus was just finishing his stew. (The firelight revealed him as a round-faced man a bit younger than Eukairios, plainly dressed and with identically ink-stained hands.) Leimanos and Banadaspos had both appeared, tousled and sleepy, from their own wagons, which were, of course, nearby. They were convinced that something was up and determined not to miss it, and they sat watching Protus sullenly: another of their lord’s foreign allies, involved in plans from which they had been excluded.

  “I am indebted to you,” I told Protus. “You said you had borrowed a horse: may I give you one?”

  He gaped. “I… I couldn’t keep a horse, Lord Ariantes! I don’t have the money or the place to put it. And I can barely ride.”

  I went back into the wagon and fetched my last gold drinking cup-the others had all gone in bribes-and went to the supply of silver I’d put under the bed to keep handy. I filled the cup with silver and brought it out to Protus. “Take that, then, in token of my gratitude to you for riding over tonight,” I told him. “Another man might have left it until the morning. When do you ride back?”

  “I have to go as soon as I’ve finished eating, sir,” Protus stammered, looking from me to the cup and back again. “I don’t dare be away from work in the morning. I’d be beaten for it. I… These are denarii! Lord Ariantes, you can’t mean-”

  “I said it was a token of my gratitude. Do you think my gratitude is cheap? Here is an answer to the letter you brought; I ask you to see that it is sent with the same haste as the one you delivered to me. If you are leaving now, we will have your company on the road.” I turned to my captains and switched to Sarmatian. “Leimanos, Banadaspos, our enemies are in our hands, and they will be ruined before the month is out! Tell the bodyguard to arm: we ride tonight.”

  They both jumped to their feet, sullenness vanished in triumphant delight.

  “Tonight?” Eukairios echoed, in Latin, behind me.

  “Tonight, and you as well,” I told him, switching back to that language. “If you can sleep now, I admire your coolness. Facilis is still in Corstopitum, and we will need his help. We might as well ride now as in the morning. Leimanos, I’m leaving you in charge of the dragon.”

  “My lord…” began Leimanos, ready to protest.

  “There won’t be any fighting,” I promised him, back in Sarmatian again, grinning. “They will die by ink and a few leaves of beechwood. I only want the bodyguard to protect my back. Eukairios, be sure you bring writing supplies. Leimanos, I’ll tell Longus where I’m going as I leave. Don’t bother Comittus about anything to do with this.”

  “You said he was innocent!” objected Leimanos.

  “And so he is-but he has friends who aren’t, and is it honorable to ask him to assist in their destruction? Do you know if Longus is in his house?”

  “He said he was going to Fortunatus’ place.”

  “Good. Someone point it out to me, and I’ll say good-bye to him there.” I clapped my hands. “To arms!”

  A few minutes later we were galloping out from the camp, thirty-one armed Sarmatians and two rather stunned scribes. It was just over an hour later when we rode into Corstopitum.

  We dropped a shaken Protus off by the municipal buildings, and rode up to the gates of the military compound shortly before midnight. The guards were initially alarmed to see us, but relaxed when I asked for Flavius Facilis: they knew he was investigating the druidic murder, and midnight alarms were to be expected in such a case. They admitted us, sent a message to the commandant’s house where Facilis was staying, and allowed us to stable our horses in the military stables. When we arrived at the comman
dant’s house, it was to find the lamps lit and Facilis and the prefect of the Thracians, Titus Ulpius Silvanus, sitting in the dining room looking anxious and sleepy, waiting for us.

  “What the hell are you doing galloping into Corstopitum at this time of night?” was Facilis’ greeting to me.

  “I have had some important news,” I told him. “But there is no need for all of us to stay awake for it. Lord Prefect, is there anywhere for my men to rest?”

  I managed to send him off to sort out the barracks, and as soon as he was gone, I handed Facilis Siyavak’s letter.

  The centurion read it with a look of growing disbelief, and when he’d finished, sat staring at it numbly. “Jupiter Optimus Maximus!” he exclaimed, and looked back up at me.

  I ran my forefinger across my forehead and around the side of my head.

  “Gods!” he agreed. “This will finish them! The other names you got were good: that Cunedda had kept a ring that belonged to that poor bastard of a carpenter he sacrificed, which pins the murder on him, and now that he’s dead, there’ve been people coming forward to inform. The countryside and most of the druids in the region have turned against his sect. I thought now we could start to put up a fight. But this! This is the Venus toss on the dice, and the other players are out of the game shirtless.”