“I know that now,” I acknowledged, buteven knowing what I had to do, I still hesitated to apologize,which she saw.
Which made her truly angry; I knew thisbecause as she glared up at me, I saw something I have only seenone other woman do, although I had learned that they do not knowthey are doing it, as Bronwen’s nostrils flared in the exact samemanner as my mother Giulia when she lost her temper with me as achild.
“You called me a whore, Centurion,”she snapped. “A filthywhore!”
Whatever reservations she had about beingseen talking to me had clearly evaporated, and I found myself inthe unusual and distinctly uncomfortable position of trying to calmher down, because her voice was rising in volume with every word.No, the crowd around us did not know Latin, but they clearly knewan angry woman when they heard her, and I sensed heads turning inour direction.
“I know I did!” I protested. “And Iapologize for that!”
“You apologize?” Her upper lip curledup in disdain. “You apologize?”
I confess that in this moment I was baffled;what more did she want? She had actually taken a step towards me,and I noticed that both hands, as tiny as they were compared tomine, were clenched, and I was certain that she was about to strikeme.
“Yes,” I repeated, holding both handsout in front of me. “I apologize!” Then it came to me, and I addedquickly, “And I was wrong! I know you are not a whore, and you arecertainly not filthy!” I knew I was babbling, but I could not seemto stop myself from saying, “So obviously that means you can’t be afilthy whore!”
As quickly as it had come, her anger seemedto vanish, a look of amusement in her eye that made me wonder, Isit because of what I said? Or is it because I’m acting like abumbling idiot? I suspected I would not like the answer, so I letit lie.
Instead, I said more softly, “Again,Bronwen, I do apologize. And,” I sighed, “I am sorry that your father was dragged into thisbecause of me.”
She opened her mouth, presumably to answer,but suddenly from behind us came a shout.
“Pullus!”
I recognized the voice, and I turned to seeCunovindus, a frown on his face, striding through the crowd towardsus.
Before he got to us, I said quietly, “Iwould like to talk to you again, Bronwen. About…other thingsbesides this.”
“I would like that,” she answeredsimply, but when Cunovindus grabbed me by the arm to drag me away,if he understood why I was grinning like a fool, he could not haveasked me the reason anyway.
The mood on the ship was anything butcelebratory at the idea we were returning home, and Saloninussummed up the feeling of the men.
“They feel like weabandoned the Pilus Prior,” he told me glumly.
We were sharing the cabin now, and once wereached the mouth of the river, we had come down below to talkprivately.
“They didn’t have anychoice,” I argued, although I also knew that it would not do anygood. “Not only would we have been outnumbered, but Gnaeus orderedus to leave.”
“What are you going todo?” he asked me, and to this, at least, I felt confident I couldgive an answer.
“I’m going to Arelate, asquickly as I can,” I replied.
“Do you think your…” Hisvoice trailed off, and I realized that Saloninus was trying tountangle our familial connection, which is not by blood but morethan fifty years of our entwined fortunes through my father Dioclesand the Prefect.
“It’s complicated,” Ilaughed, “but I think of Septimus as a cousin and that’s how we’vealways been treated.”
“So do you think yourcousin has that kind of money?”
I was about to answer with the truth, thatbecause of Gaius’ horrendous mistake and attempt to cover it up, itwould be next to impossible to raise that amount of money,particularly in the form of gold, with any kind of speed. Then Irealized that this would undoubtedly filter back to the men anddeepen their despondency about leaving Gnaeus behind.
So I lied, “It will be difficult, but yes,he can come up with it. Now,” I turned to the other practicalmatter, “what are you going to tell Germanicus when we getback?”
“I have no idea,” headmitted.
“Would you mind asuggestion?” I offered, and the look of relief on his face wasimpossible to miss, although he only nodded.
“Tell him the truth,” Itold him. “That Gnaeus ordered us to leave, and that he’s sent meto arrange for the ransom. That way,” I went on, “you don’t have toworry about making sure that none of the men end up sayingsomething that could get back to him that Cogidubnus thought thatGermanicus would pay the ransom. Because,” I concluded, “that willcreate a lot more problems than if you just tell him thetruth.”
Saloninus nodded thoughtfully, but the signthat he was truly considering my words was signaled by how hereached up to finger the eyepatch covering his missing eye,something I had noticed he did whenever he was deep in thought.
“I suppose,” he finallyspoke, “that makes the most sense. And you’re right, I don’t wantto have to worry about fucking Publius running his mouth in TheDancing Faun that gets back to Germanicus.” He hesitated. “Still,I’ve seen the Pilus Prior and Germanicus together, and you knowbetter than I do how close Gnaeus’ father was with him.”
I certainly could not argue this, so I didnot even try, yet at the same time, I wanted to impress uponSaloninus that there was a larger reason behind Gnaeus’ hesitance,but I could not think of a way to describe the complicated andtreacherous situations that those who bear the Pullus name had beenconfronted with because of the men who rule Rome, starting withDivus Augustus’ petty and vindictive act of barring the Prefect’sdescendants from sharing the equestrian status that the first andgreatest Titus Pullus earned. Having read
