about my wagon to invoke the god’s protection and keep back the power of the Lie. Then he counted out the divining rods, but their message was ambiguous and uncomforting. I snarled at the bewildered bodyguard, ignored the puzzled questions of my Roman and Sarmatian friends, and went off to work with my horses.
The only other person I spoke to about the tablet was Eukairios. I was afraid that the murdered man was his friend, killed for his inquiries on my behalf, and I sent him into Corstopitum to check.
He returned the following afternoon to report that his friend was safe and well: the sacrificial victim had been a carpenter once accused of using wood from a sacred grove. He said besides that a lead scroll that was supposed to be the famous cursing tablet had been found that morning lying on the altar of the Mothers in Corstopitum. One of the local druids was said to have erased the name on it and to have denounced the ritual murder that produced it as blasphemous. The local people were delighted about this-the victim had been a townsman, and it was widely believed that the murderers were Pictish druids enraged by the failure of the raid on Corstopitum. The marketplace was rustling with whispers, and many of the citizens were going to the temple of the Mothers to see the scroll and leave an offering to the goddesses. This was comforting in that it did not sound as though the countryside was eager to harm Pervica, but unsettling in that if the cursing tablet was lying on an altar in Corstopitum, it must be because Pervica had put it there, and made public her opposition to everything it represented.
The news of the ritual murder and the cursing tablet seeped into the rest of the camp the same day, brought by the first people to visit Corstopitum after the festival. As Facilis had predicted, everyone knew what had been written on the tablet. The general conclusion was the same as in the town: that it had been the work of Picts angry at their defeat. I could see, however, that Comittus in particular was extremely unhappy about it. He lost all his bounciness and looked upset whenever he saw me. Several times he tried to speak to me, but I was still in a very black mood and ignored his tentative questions entirely. I think he and Longus both realized then that I hadn’t shared their food or drink since the near-drowning. They were neither of them stupid, and the mutiny and the raid, the drowning and the curse, were obviously and suspiciously connected. Longus tried to talk, too-but I wouldn’t discuss it with him, either.
A few days later, on the second of January, I set out for Eburacum, as the legate had asked. I brought my bodyguard with me under Banadaspos, and Kasagos’ squadron as well, but left Leimanos in charge of the rest of the dragon. We took our wagons to sleep in. I brought Eukairios, both to have his help with the arrangements for the stud farms and also because he wished to consult his fellow cultists in Eburacum and hear their verdict on an alliance. Facilis came as well, muttering some excuse about legion business-though it was clear to me that he came because he wanted to pursue his own inquiries about Aurelia Bodica.
I also took along the stallion Wildfire. I’d had considerable success training the animal already, partly because he wasn’t used to being outside in cold weather and forgot his distrust of humans in his desire to come under the awnings and be warm. I’d just begun breaking him to the saddle and I judged it would be bad for him to interrupt the training for the time needed for the journey.
On the second day of the journey we met Arshak and his dragon, riding up the north road from Eburacum to their posting at Condercum. It was a cold gray day of intermittent snow, but the sun came out just before we met them and we saw the glitter of their arms in the light while they themselves were only a shadow on the road ahead. They’d spread out across the verges of the road, as we had ourselves, trying to spare the unshod hooves of the horses. Arshak was riding in the vanguard beneath the golden dragon of his standard. As we rode on toward him, he slowed, and when we were almost level, he stopped, and all his men halted behind him. I stopped as well, only a few paces from him, and we stared at each other for a long time in silence. I noticed that he was wearing his coat of scalps. His liaison officer, Severus, looked puzzled.
“Greetings,” he said at last. “I didn’t see you when you were last in Corstopitum. I wanted to tell you how pleased I am that you’re still alive.” He smiled.
I knew that smile: he’d given it to Facilis often enough. I thought of asking him if he had a cup of hospitality he wished to share with me-but there was no point baiting him. “Greetings,” I said, instead. “I’ll be pleased to meet you any time, now that we are to be neighbors.”
He smiled again and ran a hand caressingly down his spear. “You’re a true nobleman, in most ways,” he commented. “You’re bound to Eburacum, you and your”- his eyes raked Facilis-“your good friends?”
I nodded and gathered up Farna’s reins. “And you’re bound to Condercum. I won’t keep you-unless you have business with me now?”
His eyes lit, but he shook his head. “I wish I did. But not now. Still, I’m glad you didn’t drown. A prince of the Iazyges should die by the spear.”
“I will die as the god wills it, and by the hand he appoints,” I replied, “as you will yourself, Arshak.” He flinched slightly, as though the connection between gods and killing made him uneasy. “A pleasant journey to you,” I told him, and started my horse forward.
He moved his white Parthian aside to let me pass, and turned in the saddle to watch me as I rode on. When Facilis passed him, he smiled again and fingered the neck of his coat-then gestured for his drummer to give the signal, and continued on.
“Have you quarreled with Lord Arshak, my lord?” Banadaspos asked me unhappily, when our party was through the long coils of the dragon and on the clear road behind it.
I looked at him. “You should not ask such questions, Banadaspos,” I said. “I don’t want dueling between his men and ours. Whatever is between him and myself is our own business.”
He was not satisfied with this reply. “It is our business to guard our prince,” he said sullenly. Then he added, in a whisper, “That story Arshak told of chasing a boar never made sense. But I don’t see how…” He stopped. He didn’t see how a quarrel with Arshak could end in a drowning and a lie.
“This affects my honor, not yours,” I said; and at this he fell reluctantly silent.
The rest of the journey to Eburacum was uneventful. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon of the fourth day after leaving Corstopitum.
Eburacum, which we had last visited early in the autumn, lies in green, fertile valley land upon a river, and just south of the Highlands of Brigantia. Besides being the home for the Sixth Legion, the city is the base for the civilian administration of the whole of the northern half of the province-which is run by the legionary legate, though he is officially subordinate to the provincial governor in Londinium. Being in a position of such importance, Eburacum has naturally prospered. The stone-based half-timbered buildings crowd unpleasantly close together, overshadowing the street, and the main market square seems in contrast very bright, surrounded by the white facades of the grand public buildings. The shops sell everything from hunting dogs to imported glassware.
The legionary fortress lies the other side of the river from the market square, a severe castle frowning upon its ostentatious neighbor. All forts are much alike. All have the same shape, rectangular with rounded corners; all have the same two main streets, the Via Principalis and the Via Principia, running from the four gates past the neat barrack blocks, and where those two streets meet, the headquarters building and the commanding officer’s house invariably face one another. I had always found the uniformity repellant before, and this time was unsettled to discover that it merely seemed convenient.
We were met at the fort gates and escorted first to the stable yard, where we were instructed to leave our horses and the wagons, and then to the places where we were supposed to sleep-a guesthouse for Facilis, the tribune’s house recently vacated by Arshak for myself, and barracks for the rest of the men. I did not argue, but I told my men, in Sarmatian, that they could stay in their wagons if they wanted to. We were hardly going to be pushed into the barracks by force, and the wagons could be parked as comfortably in the stable yard as anywhere else, so why quarrel over what can be ignored? I left the others to settle in, and, though it was late in the afternoon, took Eukairios and went at once to see the legate.
I was admitted immediately. Priscus seemed pleased to see me, and was happy to get down to business. He had chosen a number of farms for the horses, but he was perfectly happy to add River End to the list. Eukairios and I had a tentative list of mares to breed in the next season, and stallions to cover them, and the arrangements as to which farm would take how many horses were soon made. Priscus then turned to the “other business” he’d mentioned, and my apprehensions about it turned out to have been entirely misplaced. Another eight dragons of Sarmatian cavalry were expected to arrive in Britain between April and July, and the legate wanted my advice on how to accommodate them. I was surprised and delighted, particularly when it turned out that one of the companies was the fifth dragon, commanded by my elder sister Aryazate’s husband, Cotys, a friend as close as any I’d had in my life. These troops were wintering in various locations between the Danube and the ocean but would
