Brigonius frowned. 'I think I follow.'
Annius asked, 'So does all this mean that the future can speak to the past?'
Karus laughed. 'If you ask the right question of the right god, perhaps it can! Perhaps time really is a tapestry, its threads all our lives. And somewhere there really is a Weaver, god or man, who sees all, past and future in a glance-and who can, with a few deft plucks, change the pattern of the weave, adjust history, and alter all our lives. But there is always the question of purpose. If the Weaver seeks to perturb history-why, and to what end?'
None of them had an answer to this.
Tullio made an obvious and kindly effort to include Lepidina. 'What of your Christian god, lady? What does He have to say about time and destiny?'
Lepidina said mildly, 'Jesus was God made human. What He had to say to us concerns the way we live our lives. The way we think about each other. He had nothing to say about philosophies of time.'
Karus said, 'Ah, but if I understand your mythology right, Jesus's own life was time-bound, unlike the gods of the past, and it marked a great disjunction in history. He was the God made man, and in His life and His murder He redeemed mankind.'
Xander raised his eyebrows. 'So Jesus is an intervening god, like the gods of Olympus of old. I thought we were done with them! And He was murdered? How?'
'By the Romans,' Lepidina said. 'The governor of Judea had Him put down as a rebel.'
Tullio said gruffly, 'I knew a man, who knew a man, who knew your Christ.'
Lepidina's eyes widened. 'You did?'
'This fellow I'm talking about was a veteran, retired, when I was starting out myself. I was eighteen or so. I met him in Pannonia. And he told me about a veteran he had met when he was young, in Africa. This chap had been a centurion, and he was on duty that day in Judea, when your Christ was crucified. The lads showed Him mercy, he said. As He was dying on the cross, one of them gave Him soldiers' wine.' He raised his cup. 'Just like this.'
They sat gravely, reflecting on this.
Karus murmured, ' 'Whilst God-as-babe has birth…' '
'From the Prophecy,' Brigonius said.
'Yes. Lepidina, I've often wondered about the meaning of that phrase. Even if you accept that Severa is right that the text of those lines is about Hadrian and the Wall, that phrase doesn't fit. You have always said the Prophecy is bound up with your young faith because of the coincidence of the birth dates of your ancestor and your Christ. I wonder if that line is telling us something of a great conflict to come, between your young god and the old. But if so, what is the Prophecy guiding us to do? What does the Weaver want?-'
There was a crash, and a smell of smoke. Tullio dropped his cup of wine and ran out of the tent.
XV
The camp was plunged into chaos. Soldiers were running everywhere, fumbling with weapons and armour, some of them only half-dressed. And from one corner of the camp a plume of smoke was rising.
Xander stared about, bewildered. 'What has happened? What should we do?'
'Stand still,' Brigonius said firmly. He took Lepidina's arm. Her face was closed up and he couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling. This wasn't the place for her, he told himself angrily. 'Stay with me,' he said. 'The camp is obviously under attack. We're in the safest place, right here. Just let the soldiers do their jobs.'
Karus shook his head, clearly reeling from the wine. 'I'd like to know how they managed to torch the camp. What did they use, a catapult?'
Tullio approached them and glared at Brigonius. 'You. You're a Brigantian. Are you going to give me any trouble?'
'No.'
Tullio pressed him: 'What are you then? On this night when many of your countrymen will have their bellies slit open by Roman stabbing swords, are you a traitor to your kind?'
The question struck at Brigonius's heart. But he said, 'No. But I am no fool either. This isn't the way to deal with the Romans; this can't work.'
'And what is the right way to 'deal' with Rome?'
'On your own terms. By skinning you of every sesterce.'
Tullio inspected him closely. 'Very well. Stay close to me or Annius; it's likely to be a long night. And keep these people under control.' Then he turned away, dismissing Brigonius and his party.
A junior officer ran up. 'Sir, we're under attack!'
'Well, I can see that,' Tullio snapped. He drew his stabbing sword and turned to face the north. 'Perhaps those northerners are taking their chance before the Wall is built. Get me a signaller and tell him-'
'Sir.' The officer, no older than twenty-five, was distressed, out of his depth. 'They aren't coming from the north.'
'Then where?'
'From the south, sir. The south!'
Tullio gaped. 'The south? Which side of this cursed Wall are the barbarians supposed to be on? And how did they set fire to my camp?'
'I can answer that, sir.' A tough-looking centurion approached. His face was streaked with ash, and he carried something in his hand, something that dangled and dripped a dark fluid. 'He was inside the camp. He had business here; he'd been here before. We'd no reason to suspect him. But he was carrying a bottle of oil which he lit and-'
'Who, man? Who did this?'
The centurion glared at Brigonius. 'This is yours, I believe.' He raised his arm. The thing in his hand was a human head, severed at the neck, from which blood still oozed. The face was obscured by a thick black beard. The centurion dumped the wet thing on the floor.
Brigonius flinched but stood his ground, while Lepidina cowered behind him. 'Matto,' Brigonius breathed. 'Oh, you fool.'
Tullio glared. 'Recriminations later. For now let's get control of the situation. You,' he told the centurion. 'Take charge of what's going on inside the camp. Put that fire out before it does any more damage.' The centurion ran off. 'Annius, you come with me. What are those signallers doing up in that tower, sucking each other off? I need to find out what's happening in the country…' He stalked off, bristling, angry, competent.
Karus was staring at the severed head. 'I knew this man.'
'He was my cousin,' Brigonius said grimly. 'He worked for me, at the quarry.'
'What was in his mind, Brigonius? He must have known he could not survive a lone attack on a Roman camp.'
'But death didn't matter to him,' Xander said quietly. 'The Romans have encountered such suicide killers before-and know they are hard to deal with. As Tacitus has written, 'The man who is prepared to die will always be your master.' '
The commands flowing from Tullio soon had their effect. Soldiers swarmed around the camp, preparing weapons and armour. Meanwhile others gathered around the fire. They hauled a cart laden with a heavy tank of water. Two beefy infantrymen began to work a two-handed lever, and water was forced out of a nozzle. The cart was hastily swivelled so that the fire engine's spouting water was aimed at the burning tents.
XVI
The light faded, the long day dwindling into night. Brigonius and his party huddled with Tullio's staff in the prefect's tent.
Beyond the camp the country was wild. Brigonius heard shouts, screams, and there was a prevailing stink of
