richest once owned over a thousand, and had six. You thought it would be humiliating and distressing to them to lose any more. Distressing or not, Commander, the province of Britain cannot pay for barbarian numeri to keep six horses just to satisfy their vanity.”
“That was one reason, my lord. I had another one.”
He sighed. “And I must admit, the second was a bit more compelling than the first. You don’t approve of native breeds of horse, and you want to keep those you have for breeding.”
“The British horses, my lord, with a few exceptions, are not large enough to carry the armor. And the exceptions are extremely expensive. The dragon could not afford to purchase enough of them.”
“Very well-but you know the rules. We do not let Roman troops engage in farming while on active service-and that includes Sarmatians taking time out to breed horses.”
“Sir, the horses we have are in their prime. In a few years they will be past that prime and aging quickly. Without sufficient horses of good quality, we cannot use our armor. If we are to function at all, we must begin breeding the animals at once. Now, my lord, the thing I was considering was this. I understand that the army can lease out property to private companies, that in fact this is done with land used to provide supplies. Could we not lease out some of the horses to a suitable private farm? The breeding stock would remain ours, but the farm would feed and care for the beasts, and in return receive a set price for the offspring.”
Priscus looked at me for a minute, rubbing a hand thoughtfully against his chin. “Did you think of that yourself?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re a pretty damned odd barbarian. Yes, that’s an excellent idea. We could fix a price that would make it worth the farm’s while, but still be well below the market value of your bloodstock. If we had any foals surplus, we could sell them at a handsome profit. It’s an excellent idea. But wouldn’t your men be distressed and humiliated at this as well?”
“No. We are accustomed to… let out… our cattle. I had horses with every man in the dragon: they cared for them, I picked out some of the offspring, and they kept the rest. The men will understand it at once. But, my lord, we would have to give some of them leave to visit any farms that were chosen, to teach the British owners how to handle the animals, and to assist in the autumn when the mares are covered and in spring when the foals are born. We have not been impressed at how well the Britons handle horses.”
Priscus gave a harsh laugh. “Setting your men horserearing by the back door, eh? Well, if it’s just a few men, and just spring and autumn… we’d be hard-pressed to find the stud farms to manage such pedigreed beasts otherwise.”
“I have found one, possibly,” I said, coming to the point that had given me the idea in the first place. “The place where I was brought when they took me out of the river. The previous owner had purchased a very fine stallion, intending to use it for stud, but he died before fulfilling his intention, and his widow does not have the skill to complete it. They have some good grazing land, though, and some people who could learn horse breeding. I believe the lady who now owns the farm would be interested in such a proposal. I was to see her in a few days, about the stallion, which she wishes to sell. If it is acceptable to you, I could put this suggestion to her then.”
Priscus laughed again. “You don’t waste your time, do you? Lying there, fresh from drowning, and planning to invest in horseflesh. Jupiter! Eh, Bodica, my dear!” I turned on my stool, and there indeed was the legate’s lady, stopped in the office door and staring at me wide-eyed with a look not so much of surprise as of outrage.
“Come in!” her husband told her jovially. “Here’s Ariantes back, alive and fit and with a very clever way to pay for all his horses.”
Bodica smiled at Priscus and came into the office. I stood and bowed my head to her in greeting; when I raised my eyes, I caught the look of murderous hatred she shot me while her face was turned from her husband’s. I knew, as soon as I saw it, that we’d met on the road from Condercum. The meeting was still hidden in the fog that covered my memory, but I could sense it there now. It was a relief. It hadn’t made any sense that I’d fought Arshak and ended up in the river without a mark on me.
“Lord Ariantes,” she said, sitting down on her husband’s desk. “I confess, I never expected to see you alive again.”
“No,” I replied. “I myself believed I was dead, two days ago. And I can still remember nothing between leaving Condercum and waking half-drowned. I live by the kindness of the gods.” I did not want a contest with her yet, and wanted her to know that. I still had no proof, and I suspected that even memory would afford me no proof-not the kind of proof I would need to convince the legate that his adored young wife was guilty of treason. The bare word of a man who’d been threatened with demotion and even flogging for “causing trouble” would clearly not be enough.
Bodica gave me another glare of rage and loathing, then looked quickly away before her husband could notice. “What is this clever plan about horses?” she asked.
Priscus was explaining it when Siyavak and Valerius Victor came in. Bodica gave a bright smile to Victor, which he returned, but a lingering, assuring smile to Siyavak-and I noticed that that, too, was returned. I decided I was right to have come to Corstopitum.
Both officers, and Bodica, joined in commenting on the scheme and suggesting modifications to it. Then we turned to the business of Siyavak’s supplies (too much grain, not enough meat and milk) and the legate’s wife smiled again, and said she hadn’t meant to distract anyone, she’d just heard that I was there and she wanted to be sure I was safe and well, and she’d go. She went, leaving us to draw up comparative budgets. I missed Eukairios.
I could not satisfy Siyavak: I was not satisfied with the supplies for my own men. However, we agreed on an arrangement that was as good as we could get, and as soon as we had, Siyavak excused himself. It seemed to me that for a man who’d been asking to see me, he was now in a hurry to get away from me. I also made my excuses to the legate, and left with him: I wanted to talk to him.
He tried to slip away, and said he needed to go to the stables to see how his troop’s horses were. I refused to be slipped away from, and said I would join him. He was not pleased, but endured it. As soon as we were private, in the same alley where I’d argued with Arshak, I asked, “Has the legate’s lady spoken to you?”
He stopped in midstride and whirled to face me. “What do you mean?” he demanded suspiciously.
“She has spoken to Arshak,” I said. “I wondered if she had spoken to you.”
“They’ve both said some things to me,” he replied. “Some things I agreed with.” He turned back and started on.
“Wait,” I called after him. “The rod that was sent to Gatalas.. ”
That stopped him and turned him around again. “Do you know who sent it?” he demanded, eagerly this time.
I shook my head. “But listen, Siyavak. Whoever sent it knew how to make divining rods and set them in a pattern. But they used British writing on the last rod to make their message clear: therefore, the sender is British, but familiar with our own people. Further, the sender was able to get the message into Condercum when there was tension in the camp without the Roman authorities being aware of it: therefore, the sender was not Pictish, despite being in league with the tribes, but was probably a person of some importance within the Roman army. The messenger who brought it said it came from Eburacum. The lady Aurelia Bodica was in Eburacum. She is a British princess and a legate’s wife. And she has spoken a great deal with Arshak, and could easily have learned, from him or from his diviner, how to construct her message. She was asking about such matters even on the road from Dubris.”
He let out his breath with a hiss. “She had no reason to do it! Why would she want my lord to die?”
“If she’s spoken to you, you know better than I. Is a mutiny against the Romans a thing that would please her?”
Siyavak walked back toward me, now frowning deeply. “Why?” he asked again. “She’s a legate’s wife. Why would she want to help raiders from outside the Roman border?”
This was a thing that puzzled me, too. She was an ambitious woman-but surely a legate’s wife not only has a position of power already, but has further scope for her ambition in advancing her husband’s career? Instead, it had seemed to me from the first that she wanted to use us for a purpose of her own. Why?
“I don’t know why,” I admitted. “I have no proof that she’s the one who did it, and without proof I’ve already said too much. But I think I can guess what she said to you. Perhaps she welcomed you, promised you her assistance in Eburacum, told you that the Britons are the natural allies of our people, far more than the Romans.
