“I would say that our dress suits you,Centurion,” Ivomagus broke the silence, “but you still look like aRoman.” He grinned at me as he stroked his mustache. “You need oneof these, Gnaeus.”
“If I come back to Ubiorum with amustache and,” I indicated the tunic, “wearing something like this,I’d look like a porcupine before I got to the gate.”
I said this with a smile, but Ivomagus didnot look amused, only puzzled, and I quickly learned why.
“You have mentioned this…porcupinebefore,” he said. “What is it? Some sort of beast?”
“You don’t have porcupines inBritannia?” I asked in surprise, although I have no ideawhy.
He shook his head, so I tried toexplain about the animal with bristling quills that are its onlydefense, although it is certainly effective. Ivomagus translated tothe others, and there were some questions as to its size,appearance, and the like, which I tried to describe the best Icould. Now that I was clean, shaved, and relatively refreshed, weleft the building that had been set aside for my bath, which, whileit had been cleaned out, I was certain had been a stable.Nevertheless, it was better than nothing, and I felt at leastsomewhat like a Centurion of Rome again, although I was missingmy vitus. The work onrepairing Petuar was ongoing, but in something of a small miracle,while some of the outbuildings of Segovax’s hall had been burned,the hall itself was intact, and Cogidubnus had taken up residenceagain. He had sent Berdic out with the bulk of his army, which Iestimated to be a bit more than two thousand men altogether, butfrom what I gathered from Ivomagus, there was no prospect ofanother fight because Diviciacus and his men were alreadyretreating back across the river. When I asked Ivomagus what thismeant, he could only offer a shrug.
“My brother has not decided,” he saidin what I sensed was an evasive manner. Seeing I expected more, hewent on, “It is customary that we conduct some sort of reprisalraid, perhaps further inland, but my brother does not like doingthings just because that is the way they have always beendone.”
Before I could think about it, Ireplied, “Then he would hatebeing a Roman.”
This made him laugh; matters between us hadbecome easier, and even then, I sensed that he was more sympatheticto my plight than he had been before the Brigantes attack.Regardless of this, I stifled the urge to press Ivomagus on whetherCogidubnus had made a decision. I was certain that the king wasavoiding me; other than the night he arrived, I had seen him justone other time, and it was now two days later.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Ivomagus saidquietly, “Gnaeus, you must stay away from Bronwen.”
“Then how am I going to get my tunicback so that I can stop looking ridiculous?” I asked in a jokingtone, but he was not fooled.
“Once she has washed and mended yourclothing, you must avoid her, Gnaeus.”
“Why?” I challenged, although I wascertain I knew the answer; I was right, but onlypartially.
“Berdic,” he answered simply. “He isgone now, but he might be back by dark, and he will certainly beback tomorrow. If he sees you anywhere near her…”
He did not finish, but he did not needto.
Rather than bluster, I decided to take adifferent approach, which prompted me to ask, “Now that you’ve seenme fight, Ivomagus, do you still think that Berdic could defeatme?”
This was when I learned I was only partlyaccurate in my guess because he answered immediately, “No, I knowthat Berdic could not defeat you, Gnaeus. But,” he looked up at meas we walked, adding quietly, “that is the problem.”
“I don’t see why,” I countered, but Iwas just being obstinate, because I knew what he wassaying.
“If you defeat Berdic,” he began, buthe caught me glaring at him and corrected, “when you defeat Berdic, you will not just shamehim, you will shame my brother, Gnaeus. He has shown Berdic greatfavor. And,” his tone turned bitter, “Berdic used my…absence to hisgreat advantage. Cogidubnus trusts him. So, while defeating Berdicmight win you Bronwen, you will probably lose any chance you haveof returning home.”
My initial reaction was to say I would haveliked to see Cogidubnus try, but fortunately, I instantly knew thiswas a foolish thing to say. Still, it went against my nature tomeekly accept Ivomagus’ advice.
“What about what Bronwen wants?” Iasked, then offered up something that I recalled reading in thePrefect’s account, and I wondered if, given the similarities, itwould be the same with the Gallic tribes. “I thought that women hadmore freedom in who they married than we Romans do.”
He surprised me then by agreeing, “You areright, Gnaeus. Normally, they do. But,” he hesitated, then cast aglance over his shoulder at the others who were trailing us whilewe wandered around the town, “that is why my brother took…steps toensure that Bronwen would say yes.”
“You mean with her father,” Ihalf-guessed, and he nodded.
“Yes, with Praesutagas. Berdic hasdesired Bronwen since she became a woman, but she wanted nothing todo with him. Then,” he shrugged, “my brother needed Berdic to dosomething for him that was…outside what a king would normallycommand from one of his subjects, and this was Berdic’sprice.”
I do not like being thwarted, in anythingand for any reason. In fact, this is the kind of thing that makesthe beast within me stir, yet I managed to hold my tongue. It didnot stop my mind, however, and this was the moment I began toconcoct my plan.
When Bronwen came shortly before sundown tothe home of Tincommius, where I had been staying since the night ofthe battle, her first reaction at seeing me cleanly shaven was tolean forward a bit and take a sniff, smiling as she did so.
“You do smell better.” She laughed.“Although you
