'And who am I to apply to?' She drew herself up. 'I, who am of the House of Valens, a senator's daughter, a commander's wife? Do I ask the governor? The duke?'
'I'm not certain, lady-'
'Perhaps you think I should send to the emperor himself for permission to go through his wall and pray to his God? Or wake senior tribune Galba?'
Priscus hesitated. She had a lifetime of practicing the imperious-ness of her class, and he a lifetime of surrendering to it. To make an enemy of a commander's wife was foolish. He signaled the gate open. 'Let me send an escort-'
'We can't wait for that. We've no need of that.' She kicked her mount, and it started ahead through the archway, her slave's horse instinctively following. 'Don't bother others about our prayers. We'll be back by dawn!'
And with that they were across the embankment that crossed the ditch and trotting down the hill, Savia bouncing fearfully on her saddle as her horse broke into a trot.
The duplicarius watched uneasily. Something wasn't right. He turned to his companion. 'Rufus, rouse three others and follow her. Make sure she meets no harm.'
'It will take us a while to saddle, decurion.'
'No matter. You'll catch them, judging from the jiggling rump of that fat slave.'
Valeria stopped on the open moor and looked back at the Wall. It was the first time she'd been north of the barrier. Its undulating, crenellated crest stretched east and west as far as she could see, each tower marked with torches like a chain of lighthouses, the stars cold sparks above their fire. The whitewash glowed in the moonlight like wet quartz. It looked impregnable from this side, its approaches shorn clear, farmsteads forbidden within a mile of its ditch. How strange it must be to come from the north, ignorant and unwashed, and see its regal length for the first time!
'It's lonely out here,' Savia said gloomily.
'The tribes are somewhere. Asleep, we hope.'
'I think this is a very bad idea.'
'And I think we're going to save our friend Clodius. I've seen the true nature of Galba Brassidias, and it's necessary to warn our young tribune.'
'His true nature?'
'He's a very arrogant, very incautious man.'
They rode on, Savia bouncing in her unfamiliar saddle and muttering misgivings. It was frightening to ride north beyond the Wall's protection, Valeria readily admitted to herself, and eerie to be out at night. Every wooded hollow seemed a possible haven for wolves or bears. Every rise threatened to hide skulking barbarians.
Yet as they rode mile after mile without incident, the thrill of the night's freedom began to infuse her. She was finding her own way! Never had she experienced such freedom. She felt like a bird or spirit, gliding like a ghost over a silvery landscape of lunar-lit dew. No one was watching her. Judging her. Coveting her. Envying her. Resenting her. What if they simply kept going?
Savia had no sympathy when Valeria expressed this idea. 'I don't feel free, I feel hungry,' the slave said. 'And what are we going to do when we get there?'
'Send poor Clodius to the duke, where this preposterous accusation can be laid to rest. It would also amuse me to see this arresting posse of Galba Brassidias net us instead. I'd have no hesitation in telling him exactly what I think of him!'
Savia looked reproachfully at her young charge. 'I warned you, lady.'
'We'll say nothing more about that.'
So they were quiet for a while. Then the slave spoke again. 'But what if Clodius did kill this Odo, and didn't pay for him?'
'Savia! How can you think such a thing of our companion, a man who tried to save me in the forest?'
'Save you? He couldn't even stand up.'
'And had his throat cut for his defiance. Marcus said he fought well at the grove. Galba has been unfair to Clodius since we stepped ashore in Londinium.'
'I'm afraid of Galba's soldiers.'
'I'm not.'
The last mile was the most intimidating, the track to the spring of Bormo leading down into a wooded glen. The gloom under the trees was much deeper in the night, the path hard to follow. As they picked their way through the murk, they heard a distant rumbling of horses, as if someone was following. Galba already? 'We must hurry!'
They trotted recklessly ahead, narrowly missing low branches, and finally Valeria heard the murmur of gently falling water. The spring! They came at length into a small clearing in a circle of silver elm, the moon overhead and the world turned white. On the far side of the glade was a Celtic shrine devoted to the water god Bormo. Carved on a rock cliff was the voluptuous representation of a nymph, the spring's fount the creature's mouth. Water tumbled down a carpet of wet moss to a wide dark pool, ripples marching in rank across it. Moonlight reflecting off gold and silver coins on the pool bottom like another sky of moons. Flowers, small items of clothing, jewelry, and tokens of a person's life-a comb, a knife, a chariot whip-had been left in hopes of improving the efficacy of prayer and curses. Beyond, in the trees, was a small Roman temple. Horses were tethered there.
'See the mounts? It must be Clodius.'
'This is a pagan place,' Savia murmured. 'An evil place.'
'Nonsense. Can't you sense the water god?'
'No, these gods are dead, killed by the Christ, and demons have taken their place. We shouldn't be here, Valeria.'
'And we won't be if you hush and let me deliver our message!'
The temple was a simple square building with domed roof, a porch, and pillars before its door. Valeria called with a loud whisper. 'Clodius!'
No answer, so they knocked. 'Clodius, are you in there? Open up! Soldiers are coming!'
Again, no answer.
And then… 'By the gods, it's you!'
They whirled. The young Roman had crept behind them, his spatha unsheathed, his cloak bunched around his left arm as makeshift shield.
'Clodius!'
'Valeria?' He looked at her in bewilderment.
She ran and pecked him on one cheek, then danced back. 'I found you!'
'What are you doing here in the middle of the night? I almost attacked you! I thought I heard the murmuring of men, not women.'
'We came to warn you. Galba Brassidias claims to have found a murder weapon and intends to arrest you for the murder of the slave Odo. His men are approaching.'
'What? Are you certain?'
'Ride to Eburacum and demand true justice from the duke.'
The youth lowered his sword. 'What evidence? Falco said the matter was settled.'
'A bracelet from Odo in your room. A knife from Falco's own dining table. Maybe some other things.'
The tribune scoffed. 'Put there by Galba Brassidias, I'll wager. He's wanted me gone from the beginning.'
'So make him go. Get the duke to transfer him to Germania.'
'I'd need Marcus to support me.'
'He will! You're both of the same class.'
Clodius listened to the distant rumble. 'You rode out here by yourselves?'
'The slave Clio whispered the secret to brave Savia here. When she told me Galba's plot, I knew what we must do.'
Savia gave a tremulous smile, trying to live up to this new reputation for courage.
The junior tribune turned and spoke into the dark. 'Sardis! We must flee!' Another man, a narrow-faced Celt, emerged like a wraith. 'This is one of our informants,' Clodius explained. 'Barbarian raiders are about. It's not safe
