garment slide off her shoulders like a sheet, the folds catching a moment on her mount's tail and his eye distracted by its seductive drop. Leaning forward as if to speak, Valeria suddenly jabbed, plunging the sea-horse brooch into the flank of the brigand's stolen horse. The animal reared, screaming, and in an instant the arrogant barbarian was thrown, landing on the ground in a tangle of weaponry. Even as he scrambled up, clawing for his sword, Clodius's frightened steed crashed away. Meanwhile Valeria jerked Titus's horse around and charged back to the lane, riding over a man who tried to block her and thundering madly ahead toward the promise of the distant fort, expecting an arrow in her back at any moment. The lane twisted, and she was gone.
'Morrigan's damnation!' The barbarian's sword was out but useless as he watched Valeria gallop away, his expression furious but grudgingly respectful. 'That woman has the fire of Boudicca and the guile of Cartimandua.' It was a compliment to compare her to the Celtic queen who'd led a bloody revolt against the Romans and another who'd saved her people by wily collaboration. He looked at his men. 'It was a smart trick, and a brave one.'
'She's gotten away,' the one called Luca complained.
'We'll pursue on foot. The Attacotti have the endurance to run down a horse.'
His men groaned.
'Chances are she'll spill.'
'What about the others?' a companion asked.
'With the girl gone, we'll tie them and take them-'
'No!' cried Savia.
Then there was a birdcall again, sharp and urgent. The barbarians froze. They could hear a low rumble of approaching horses.
'Romans, Arden.'
There was no hesitation. The barbarian whistled just once, and the brigands melted into the trees, vanishing as quickly as they'd appeared. Only their leader hesitated, stooping to scoop the seahorse brooch from the mud. Then he too was gone. Only a rocking of disturbed branches showed where the Celts had been.
Savia remained still as a statue, shocked by the sudden turnaround. Clodius reared up from the dirt to fumble for his sword and then stopped in humiliation.
His captor had stolen it.
Valeria had left them all behind, pounding down the track in fear and exultation, breathless at the power of the animal under her, the horse's muscles rolling like the waves of the sea. She felt guilty at leaving the others but knew she was their only hope: she must find help! And then suddenly her mount stumbled and she was flying through the air, landing so hard that the wind was knocked out of her. She tumbled over and over before fetching up against a log.
The idiot steed had thrown her.
The horse got to its feet, saddle askew, and limped off with a snort and an accusing look, as if it was her fault.
Now the barbarians would catch her.
But then there was the sound of approaching hooves from ahead, many of them, and she stood shakily, as filthy as her would-be abductor. Dazed, she saw the dull glitter of armor and weapons through the leaves and slowly recognized the purposeful rhythm of Roman cavalry. Far more men, in fact, than Galba had left with, pounding hard to save her! She swayed with emotional exhaustion, relief and joy overtaking her. Two leading scouts pulled up and shouted their bizarre discovery of this bedraggled figure. Next came a trumpeter and standard-bearer, then the officers…
'Marcus!'
She ran down the track past the Roman scouts, all decorum forgotten, legs half bare, her cloak gone to reveal the shape of her shoulders, her stola torn and covered with mud, twigs the only decoration in her hair. In the saddle ahead was the tall praetor, resplendent in a mail lorica of golden leaf, a traditional crested helmet on his head and a red cape rippling behind, the very picture of Roman military bearing.
Lucius Marcus Flavius sawed on his reins in shock, his white mount skidding to a halt and his cavalry bunching behind him. 'Valeria?'
'Brigands, Marcus! They might kill the others!'
'By Hades and Gethenna!' a familiar voice cursed. 'I leave that young fool for a day-' Galba! Waving his arm, the senior tribune led a contingent of men around the couple at a charge back toward the cart.
Valeria tried to grasp Marcus, reaching for his leg, but before she could do so, he dismounted and unhooked his cape to cover the girl, acutely aware of the curiosity of his remaining horsemen. Her disarray was bewitching, the beauty of her body apparent. Then she was wrapped, the enclosure of the cape like a heated blanket, and Valeria sagged with relief. Savia will be scandalized, she thought, but I'm going to lift my face until he kisses me. Yet Marcus wouldn't comply with her wish. Instead, he held her by both shoulders.
'What are you doing alone?' By Jupiter and Mithras, he thought, his intended bride was as dirty as a pig girl and as lost as Ulysses. He was embarrassed.
'A barbarian tried to steal me!'
'A barbarian?' He still didn't comprehend what had happened.
'Bandits, Marcus! They made us prisoner but I stabbed his horse and rode off. Clodius tried to save us, but-'
'Who?'
'My escort! A new tribune!'
Marcus remembered the name from dispatches. 'And where is this escort?'
She pointed. 'Where Galba went!'
Finally he understood her urgency and remounted; then looked down in confusion. She lifted her arms. After hesitating a moment, he swung her up behind him, and her hands circled his waist, breasts pressed against the hard armor of his back. For the first time since leaving home she felt truly safe. Then they pounded back down the lane the way she'd come with thirty more men around, swords unsheathed, ready for an enemy. When they pulled up at the cart, Clodius was standing alone, unarmed and forlorn.
'Where are the bandits?'
'They fled into the forest.'
'It was Valeria!' cried Savia, appearing from a hiding place behind the cart. 'She unhorsed the thief!'
Marcus glanced over his shoulder, still not comprehending.
'I stabbed his horse with my brooch pin,' Valeria explained again.
'They ran when they heard your horses,' Clodius added gloomily. His clothes were filthy, his scabbard empty, his neck red. The blood from his wound had dried like a bib on his bright new chain mail, baptizing the armor with a reddish brown stain. 'They took nothing but a few pinecones.'
'Cones?'
'Stone pine, Marcus!' Valeria said. 'For the ceremonies of Mithras. I was bringing them to you as a present, but the barbarian decided they would protect him-'
The praefectus shook his head. 'Cones. By the gods.'
'They must have slipped through as traders,' a centurion suggested. 'Or over the top at night. A bribed sentry, perhaps. It was a bold gamble.'
'A gamble for what, Longinus?'
'Loot, I suppose.'
'They wanted the lady Valeria,' Clodius said.
'My escorts were willing to die before that happened,' Valeria interjected. She didn't want the men punished. 'Brave Clodius had his throat cut.'
'Brave who?'
The junior tribune saluted in pained embarrassment. 'One-Year Appointed Tribune Gnaeus Clodius Albinus, reporting for duty, praetor.'
'By the horns of Mithras, it gets worse and worse.'
Clodius bowed his head. 'This is not how I imagined us meeting, praefectus.'
'Nor did I. Well, welcome to Britannia, junior tribune. It appears you've had quite a reception.'
Clodius stood stiffly. 'Let me remount, and we'll see the reception!'
'So I'd hope. And your horse?'
