The Iron Hand of Mars (27 page)

“I'm sorry—I interrupted you.”

“Well, I mentioned Classicus. After my general defeated the Treveri, their chief went home and brazened it out. He lives in retirement. The Romans allow him to remain on his estate.”

“We promised there'd be no reprisals,” I confirmed. “We know where he is. One wrong step and he's outlawed. Would he risk breaking his parole by sheltering Civilis, though?”

“Not openly. But he might make a hideaway discreetly available. Yes,” Claudia decided, convincing herself. “Augusta Treverorum is your best hunting ground, Marcus Didius.”

That may have been so, but it was no use to me, now I was braced to investigate Veleda. The capital of the Treveri lay over a hundred miles to the south-west—well into the province of Belgica—whereas my route lay a long way north and east. Even Vetera, where I planned to make a start searching, lay nearer. If Civilis was lurking in Augusta Treverorum, he would have to wait to have his hiding-place disturbed by me.

We had extracted more information from her, but I felt it was drying up. “It was good of you to see us, but we'd best be on our way. Past experience tells me Helena's hot-rodded ringlets are about to droop…” Her new waiting-woman had helped her create a circlet of curls that fringed her face; I had been worried by the smell of singeing while it was going on.

“Yes,” she agreed sweetly. “If that happens, panic will ensue.”

As we rose, Claudia asked, “Where to next, then, Marcus Didius?”

“Nothing for it but a foray on to the eastern bank.”

“Germany—where the warriors have always been regarded as the fiercest in the world,” Helena said.

I smiled gently. “I expect they have a sentimental side.”

“And the women are worse,” she tossed back.

“I'm used to furious women, love.”

She turned to Claudia. “Is Veleda young or old?”

“Young enough.”

“Is she beautiful?”

“Men probably think so,” snapped this courtesan of legates and generals, as if mere beauty was no compliment.

She led us out. I saw her silvered eyes gleam when she found that Helena had been brought in a cedarwood sedan. She made a great fuss of putting Helena inside it, arranging her silk stole artistically and lighting our lanterns with a taper so that the neighbours would be treated to the full effect. Then she patted Helena's shoulder. “Don't worry about Veleda. You can run rings round her.”

“I won't be there!” Helena Justina answered miserably.

 

XXXIX

As we approached our lodging-house, two small figures dashed away in the gloom. They must have been lying in wait for our return, but lost their nerve and scarpered. It was my niece and her small friend. I called after them angrily, but they ignored my shout.

Justinus was back. He was still hoping to hear what was in the letter from Titus. Helena still refused to refer to it. He then told us he had volunteered to come with me as far as Vetera. I wondered if he was really booked for the whole adventure, but neither he nor I discussed it in front of Helena. As it was, she took me aside for a few strong words about protecting him, and then dragged him off for more about looking after me.

The children had slunk back.

“Listen, you two, I want this understood: the women of my household do
not
leave home after dark!” It had the usual effect of peals of laughter, and was forgotten immediately.

The Ubian widow, a silent type who seemed capable enough, was trying to put the pair to bed. Augustinilla started snivelling. Arminia was in the same tired state, but took the opportunity to stare at the fuss her friend was making as if amazed to see someone be such a bad girl. I fought back my annoyance as Helena said crossly, “Marcus, stop shouting. There isn't any point. She's just an exhausted child, dumped with strangers, and taken far away from home. Her tooth hurts, and her doll's broken.” My niece's face was flushed and swollen unattractively, and the doll she always clung to had an arm missing.

I had been trying to avoid knowing about this, since I would rather be asked to pull out one of my own teeth than a child's. Luckily Augustinilla refused to open her mouth for me to look. “That saves me a bite! Right. We'd better hold a dolly's funeral and burn her tastefully!”

“Shut up, Marcus. Augustinilla, Uncle Marcus is going to mend her. Give him the pieces, or he can't do it for you.”

“He won't be able to do it; he's no use…”

I groaned quietly. I'm not completely heartless. I felt sorry for the doll at least. But I had already spied out that the droopy object had jointed terracotta limbs of a kind I knew to be a real swine to mend. “I'll try—but don't call me a murderer if she disintegrates. And if anyone says ‘
You‘re all heart, Marcus,
' I'm going to leave home.”

Helena muttered savagely, “I thought you were leaving anyway!”

“No, lass. My permit's not signed yet.”

*   *   *

Mending the dolly took an hour and a half. I do not exaggerate.

Justinus had given up any hope of civilised conversation, let alone dinner. He left us early in suppressed bad language. The children sat wrapped in blankets, watching me. Helena and the Ubian woman ate a snack together and refrained from speaking, as if I was the type of workman who might at any moment explode irrationally. They had sausage. I had to decline, to avoid getting greasy hands.

As usual, the ball joint suddenly sank back into its socket perfectly easily. Everyone else exchanged glances as if they wondered why we had had to have so much swearing and wasting of time. Augustinilla shot me a hostile look, snatched the doll to her flushed cheek, and went to sleep without a word of thanks.

I was feeling tense. “Let's go out,” I growled at Helena.

“I thought your womenfolk were gated after curfew.”

“I need to be away from other people.”

“So why am I coming?”

I touched her neck briefly. “You need to be with me.” I unhooked a lamp and swung out of the house, while Helena scrambled for the outer garments we had both been wearing earlier, then followed me.

“Thank you for doing that,” Helena ventured as I grabbed her hand while we walked. “You have enough on your mind…”

I grunted. “No point risking my neck unless it's for a world where children can believe magicians will always mend their broken toys.” It sounded trite. I found that comforting. No point being a hero unless you get to spout banal rhetoric.

“Her tooth really is bad, Marcus. Would you object if I took her to a healing shrine?”

I said no, provided every attempt was made there to drown Augustinilla in a sacred spring.

I took us along the river front. I managed to find a garden. It was almost the middle of October, but we could smell roses, though we couldn't see where they were. “They must have some repeat flowerers, like the centifolia roses of Paestum…” I threw back my head, breathing deeply until I settled down. “I'm thinking about another garden, Helena. A garden beside the Tiber where I once realised I was helplessly in love…”

“You're full of snappy talk, Falco.” With only a thin stole, she was shivering. I brought her into my arms so I could wrap my cloak round both of us. She was in a grumpy, defensive mood. “What are we doing here?”

“You need to talk to me.”

“Oh I do,” she agreed. “I've been trying all evening, but are you listening?”

“Give me credit. I've come here to listen.”

Defeated by my utterly reasonable attitude, she sighed. “Thank you.” She forced an arm free and pointed across the water. The river was narrower here than at Moguntiacum, but still so wide that in the darkness we could barely make out the other side. If there were lights, we could not see them. “Look over there, Marcus. It's almost a different continent. Over there is the antithesis of everything Roman. Nomadic peoples. Nameless gods in wilderness places. No roads. No forts. No towns. No Forum; no public baths; no courts. Nothing organised and no authority to appeal to.”

“And no you,” I said.

I was quite certain she would ask me not to leave. Perhaps she herself had even intended to. Instead, she somehow found a rose-tree and wrenched off a flower for us. With roses it takes some force. She was a girl who had her moments of violence.

We shared the intensity of the flower's perfume. “I'm here, lady. I'm still listening.”

She was sucking the side of her finger where a thorn had gone in. “Claudia was right. You defend me. Ever since we met, you have been there—whether I wanted it or not. In those days you even seemed to dislike me, but you were already changing me. I had always been the first-born, the elder sister, the big cousin, the headstrong, bossy,
sensible
one. Everyone always said, ‘
Helena Justina looks after herself…'
”

I thought I could see where she was heading. “People love you, my darling. Your family, your friends,
my
family—they all worry about you the same as I do.”

“You are the only person I accept it from.”

“Is that what you wanted to say?”

“Sometimes I'm afraid to let you know how much I need you. It seems too much to ask when you have given me so much.”

“Ask whatever you want.” I was still waiting for the big request not to go. I should have known better.

“Just make sure you come back.” Helena spoke without drama. There was no need to reply. For two barleycorns I would have ordered the Emperor to wrap up his mission in vine leaves and run his triumphal chariot over it. But Helena would have hated that.

I told her she was beautiful. I told her I loved her. Being a fair girl and well tutored in etiquette, she made corresponding remarks about me. Then I closed the shutter on the lamp so Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium (Ara Ubiorum) should not have to know that on its neatly dressed quayside a plebeian with all the status of a frowsty water-rat was taking extravagant liberties with the daughter of a senator.

 

XL

We left the next day. I managed to shed Xanthus, but Justinus, who ought to have known better, smuggled his dreadful dog aboard.

Once again my imperial pass had obtained transport in a vessel of the official fleet. I also discovered that Justinus equipped expeditions in style. He had brought along horses, three leather tents, arms, provisions, and a chest of cash. Only the quality of his manpower proved a disappointment, though since I was used to travelling solo on missions like this, I did not complain. One moment of uplift came when Justinus and I went to the dockside: the centurion supervising the loading of our ship was Helvetius.

“What's this?” I grinned. “You commanding my escort? I thought you had too much sense for a crazy detail like that.”

Not for the first time I caught that fractional hesitation before he quipped back, “Unluckily for you. It means your escort is two tent parties of my knock-kneed recruits.” It was bad news, but some of them were within earshot so we had to be fairly polite. “I tried to pick out the best for you.” Helvetius had still brought me a basket of windfalls that were growing heavy mould.

“We've a hundred miles of sailing yet,” I told the centurion. “And plenty of room on deck. I can help with extra arms practice.” It would get me in shape, too. “We should have them drilled into decent material by the time we disembark at Vetera.”

The same hint of diffidence darkened his face. “So you're starting from Vetera?”

I thought he suspected me of being just another sightseer. “There's nothing ghoulish in it. I'm starting where Lupercus left.”

“Wise.”

His laconic reply convinced me I had been prodding at some personal tragedy.

*   *   *

We were sailing out into the great plain of the lower Rhenus. The right bank between here and the River Lupia formed the territory of the Tencteri, a powerful tribe, and one of the few in Europe apart from the Gauls who made considerable use of horses. They had been firm friends of Civilis during the rebellion, eager to cross and harry our supporters—especially Colonia. They had retreated back across the water now. Still, wherever the channel allowed it, our ship clung to our own left bank.

Beyond the Tencteri lived the Bructeri. All I knew about them was their legendary hatred of Rome.

Since we had brought the pedlar Dubnus with us, we sometimes asked him questions about the east bank. His evasive answers only churned up our fears. Dubnus was producing a poor response to the lure of adventure; he seemed to regard himself more as a hostage than our fortunate scout and interpreter. He complained a lot. We were disgruntled too, mainly about him, but I laid down that we were all to coddle him. He had to believe we were sympathetic if we were going to be able to trust him as a guide.

Our days were spent exercising. We passed it off as a leisure activity; it was the easiest way to cope. But we all knew that we were hardening our bodies and preparing our minds for an adventure which could finish us.

Camillus Justinus had now confessed to me that he had his commander's permission to come the whole distance. I made no comment. His legate probably thought the lad had been working too hard; they both probably saw this excursion as a reward for enterprise.

“I wondered how we had managed to acquire the fabulous supply train! So it's down to your honoured presence … I take it you never told Helena?”

“No. Do you think she realised?”

“Whether she did or not, you'd better write to her from Vetera.”

“I will. She won't forgive me otherwise.”

“More to the point, Justinus, she won't forgive
me
.”

“Will she think you encouraged me?”

“Probably. And she won't like having both of us at risk.”

“She seemed very concerned about you,” he remarked. “Visiting the witch in the woods, I mean. Was that based on past experience?”