“That’s better than the alternative,isn’t it?” I asked, and she readily agreed.
Then, she held out the bundle she had beencarrying, and a sudden shyness seemed to come over her as she toldme, “I apologize if the repair to your tunic is not very good. I,”she made a face, “have never been very good with a needle andthread. My mother died when I was very young, and my father,” shelaughed, “is even worse.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,”I offered, mainly for lack of anything else I could think to say.Then I remembered, “But I’m sure you did a perfect job of it. And,thank you.”
“You helped save Petuar,” she answeredwith a shrug. “This is the least I can do to show my thanks. And mypeople asked me to thank you on their behalf for your efforts. Infact,” she said in a teasing manner, “all the talk is about you. Ifsomeone did not know differently, you singlehandedly slew dozens ofBrigantes. Some of them,” Bronwen widened her eyes in a ludicrousexaggeration, “with just a glance!” When I laughed and shook myhead, she insisted, “It is true! I heard them say it! My friendVerica said her father was there helping to put out the fires andsaw it happen, that you,” she suddenly scrunched up her face andnarrowed her eyes into slits, “looked at them like this, and theyfell down dead!”
By this time, I was laughing, hard, and Icould tell this pleased her, but I decided to have a little fun ofmy own.
“Well,” I chuckled, “one time I didfling a man so high into the air that,” I pointed up at the roof,“he would have cleared this house and landed in the nextstreet.”
“You did?”
That she immediately took this seriously wasboth amusing and it made me a bit ashamed at seeing her eyes, nowwide open again and her mouth hanging open so that I could see justhow even and white her teeth were.
“Well,” I admitted, “that’s the story.Just like the one you just tried to tell me.”
This made her giggle, and I sensed that,like me, she had completely forgotten everything and everyonearound us. A silence fell between us, and suddenly, her mannerchanged abruptly, something I had noticed tended to happen withsome frequency, and I wondered whether this was unique to Bronwen,or if this is a trait common to the tribes of Britannia, or evenjust the Parisii.
“Do you really not have a woman whereyou are from?”
“No!” I shook my head as adamantly asI could manage without rattling my brains. “I told you the truth.Not only are we not allowed to marry, I don’t have a…anything,” Ifinished lamely, mainly because I did not know what tosay.
I had no idea if my immediate responsehelped, because she seemed more troubled than pleased; only laterdid I realize that it made sense, given her own situation.
“It is just that some of my friendswanted to know,” she said.
The two red spots on her cheeks betrayedher, and I have never wanted to kiss a woman more than I did inthat moment. Which, of course, is when Tincommius chose to clearhis throat after entering the main room from where I am certain hewas listening in on the conversation. Obviously, it was not what wewere saying since he could not understand it, but the manner inwhich we were saying it that brought him.
“Ah, yes,” I took the tunic from her,our fingers brushing, “thank you for this.”
“It is nothing,” she said, then beforeanything else could happen, she spun about and practically fledthrough the open doorway, disappearing down the street, leaving mewith my clothing and a spinning head.
When I turned about, Tincommius was standingthere, and there was no mistaking the sadness in his face as heshook his head.
“No good, Pullus,” was all he said.“No good.”
“I know,” I sighed.
Yet, if anything, I was even more determinedthat, when I left this place, I would not be alone.
Septimus’ prediction was exactly right; fourdays after my arrival, he asked me to go somewhere with him, thoughhe did not say where in front of my mother and sisters. BothScribonia and Miriam had come, and Gisela had returned a bit afterGaius Gallienus the first day, although Miriam’s children Atia andManius were not with her, while Scribonia introduced me to my newnephew Marcus, a babe of six months, and while it was nice to catchup, I had not withheld the reason why I was there. As I hadobserved when Gnaeus and I brought his father’s ashes, despite herlighthearted manner and, since she is not here, I will call it hersilly ways, Miriam proved to be every bit a Pullus. She is alsoextremely clever, which I will never admit in front of her, butwhile I did not say as much, once she had heard, absorbed, thenthought about Gnaeus’ dilemma, her verdict came swiftly.
“There’s nothing else youcan do,” she said at the kitchen table of the villa, and if she sawme slumping in relief, she made no sign of it. “Gnaeus was right towant to handle this himself. I know, or,” she amended, “you’ve toldme how much Germanicus thinks of him, but if there is anything ourfamily has learned when dealing with the patrician class, it’s tobe cautious in trusting them.”
She was right, of course, yet at the sametime, I felt the need to offer a defense of Germanicus, who, whileI certainly do not know him very well, I have heard enough aboutfrom both my Uncle Titus and Gnaeus.
“He’s not like DivusAugustus was, or Tiberius is,” I said, then, before she couldrespond, “but you’re right. We can’t take the chance thatGermanicus wouldn’t expect some sort of oath of loyalty to him thatputs Gnaeus in a bad position.”
What I didnot say was that I had seen the tollthe oath of loyalty that the late Dolabella had maneuvered UncleTitus into taking to Germanicus’ adoptive father Tiberius took onhim, and I can attest that his dreams were haunted by what he haddone. This was something nobody needed to know, even those people Itrust above all others; setting that aside, I also think it is awise policy to
