“Arshak does know we have to be cautious, my lord. And he is very eager to fight you.” Leimanos looked me over anxiously, appraising my strength for the meeting. He was unhappy with what he saw. “I hope that your leg…” he began.
“If I have to use my leg, I am a dead man. I will rely on Farna’s.”
He didn’t like it, and I could see him remembering what I’d been like on our raids, comparing it with my crippled present. He sighed. “Yes, my lord.”
The third message arrived at night. I had just gone to bed when Eukairios came and knocked on the side of my wagon, and I got up to find him standing outside in the frost. It was the dark of the moon, and the campfire had died to embers: I recognized Eukairios only by his voice. With him was another man whom he introduced as Protus, his friend from Corstopitum, a scribe in the office of the municipal archivist.
I jumped down from the wagon, pulling on my coat. “I believe I am much indebted to you,” I told Protus, shaking his hand. “You sent Eukairios a letter, did you not, when Gatalas mutinied?”
“You’re not indebted to me for that,” he told me. “I’ve never been so glad of anything I’ve done in my life as I was of sending that letter. God must have helped me write it. If you and your men hadn’t arrived so quickly, the barbarians would’ve sacked Corstopitum. I’ve brought you another letter tonight, Lord Ariantes. I borrowed a horse and rode over with it when I’d finished my work, because the person who gave it to me said it was urgent. It came from Eburacum.” He set it in my hands. The wax seals were stamped with a curving pattern my fingers recognized as a dragon cloak pin. Siyavak.
I thanked Protus and asked him if he needed food (he did, and I had one of the bodyguard search out some bread and leftover stew for him) and a place to sleep (he said he must ride back to Corstopitum that same night, as he was expected at work in the morning). While he was eating the stew by the rebuilt fire, I lit an oil lamp and took Eukairios into my wagon to read me the letter.
It was everything I could have asked for. Arshak and Bodica had accepted Siyavak as theirs, and he knew names and places and points of assembly enough to damn them both. He set it out in a few lines, short, sharp, and deadly. The letter concluded,
Recent events have alarmed her. There is opposi tion to her plans among the druids, and talk of a convocation which she fears may condemn her. She has decided to risk moving at once, before it can meet. Arshak has been asked to mutiny on the twenty-fourth of January, and there is to be an inva sion of the Selgovae and Votadini at the same time. She wants my dragon to mutiny on the same day; she has allies within the legion [and he gave names] who will mutiny with us, and let us out of the fortress if things go badly. There are also to be uprisings in [and he gave more names and places]. I have sent this in haste. If you act quickly, Prince, they are in your hands, but if you delay, we are ru ined. I will not mutiny, but if I speak defiance to her openly, my life is ended. For the love of honor, act at once! She is a witch and a servant of the Lie and I am afraid of her. I was glad, the god knows it, of the letter you left with me, and the man who writes this letter has spoken comfort to me, but the night is dark. I await your answer.
He had dated the letter the sixth of January, which was the day I’d left Eburacum; it was now the eleventh. The triumph was like a blaze of lightning. We could strike in force.
I dictated a reply on the spot:
Ariantes to Siyavak lord of the fourth dragon sends greetings. Lord, by your courage and loyalty, Gata las is avenged. Have no fear of me or my love for honor. I will act at once, and our enemies will be destroyed. For your part, continue your pretense and allow yourself to be arrested with the conspira tors, for thus you will be safe from their vengeance. As soon as they are secure, you will be released and honored for your loyalty in revenging your lord’s death. This I swear on fire.
I signed the letter, sealed it, and brought it out of the wagon. I was so stiff with excitement and joy that I wanted to shout. Protus was just finishing his stew. (The firelight revealed him as a round-faced man a bit younger than Eukairios, plainly dressed and with identically ink-stained hands.) Leimanos and Banadaspos had both appeared, tousled and sleepy, from their own wagons, which were, of course, nearby. They were convinced that something was up and determined not to miss it, and they sat watching Protus sullenly: another of their lord’s foreign allies, involved in plans from which they had been excluded.
“I am indebted to you,” I told Protus. “You said you had borrowed a horse: may I give you one?”
He gaped. “I… I couldn’t keep a horse, Lord Ariantes! I don’t have the money or the place to put it. And I can barely ride.”
I went back into the wagon and fetched my last gold drinking cup-the others had all gone in bribes-and went to the supply of silver I’d put under the bed to keep handy. I filled the cup with silver and brought it out to Protus. “Take that, then, in token of my gratitude to you for riding over tonight,” I told him. “Another man might have left it until the morning. When do you ride back?”
“I have to go as soon as I’ve finished eating, sir,” Protus stammered, looking from me to the cup and back again. “I don’t dare be away from work in the morning. I’d be beaten for it. I… These are denarii! Lord Ariantes, you can’t mean-”
“I said it was a token of my gratitude. Do you think my gratitude is cheap? Here is an answer to the letter you brought; I ask you to see that it is sent with the same haste as the one you delivered to me. If you are leaving now, we will have your company on the road.” I turned to my captains and switched to Sarmatian. “Leimanos, Banadaspos, our enemies are in our hands, and they will be ruined before the month is out! Tell the bodyguard to arm: we ride tonight.”
They both jumped to their feet, sullenness vanished in triumphant delight.
“Tonight?” Eukairios echoed, in Latin, behind me.
“Tonight, and you as well,” I told him, switching back to that language. “If you can sleep now, I admire your coolness. Facilis is still in Corstopitum, and we will need his help. We might as well ride now as in the morning. Leimanos, I’m leaving you in charge of the dragon.”
“My lord…” began Leimanos, ready to protest.
“There won’t be any fighting,” I promised him, back in Sarmatian again, grinning. “They will die by ink and a few leaves of beechwood. I only want the bodyguard to protect my back. Eukairios, be sure you bring writing supplies. Leimanos, I’ll tell Longus where I’m going as I leave. Don’t bother Comittus about anything to do with this.”
“You said he was innocent!” objected Leimanos.
“And so he is-but he has friends who aren’t, and is it honorable to ask him to assist in their destruction? Do you know if Longus is in his house?”
“He said he was going to Fortunatus’ place.”
“Good. Someone point it out to me, and I’ll say good-bye to him there.” I clapped my hands. “To arms!”
A few minutes later we were galloping out from the camp, thirty-one armed Sarmatians and two rather stunned scribes. It was just over an hour later when we rode into Corstopitum.
We dropped a shaken Protus off by the municipal buildings, and rode up to the gates of the military compound shortly before midnight. The guards were initially alarmed to see us, but relaxed when I asked for Flavius Facilis: they knew he was investigating the druidic murder, and midnight alarms were to be expected in such a case. They admitted us, sent a message to the commandant’s house where Facilis was staying, and allowed us to stable our horses in the military stables. When we arrived at the commandant’s house, it was to find the lamps lit and Facilis and the prefect of the Thracians, Titus Ulpius Silvanus, sitting in the dining room looking anxious and sleepy, waiting for us.
“What the hell are you doing galloping into Corstopitum at this time of night?” was Facilis’ greeting to me.
“I have had some important news,” I told him. “But there is no need for all of us to stay awake for it. Lord Prefect, is there anywhere for my men to rest?”
I managed to send him off to sort out the barracks, and as soon as he was gone, I handed Facilis Siyavak’s letter.
The centurion read it with a look of growing disbelief, and when he’d finished, sat staring at it numbly. “Jupiter Optimus Maximus!” he exclaimed, and looked back up at me.
I ran my forefinger across my forehead and around the side of my head.
“Gods!” he agreed. “This will finish them! The other names you got were good: that Cunedda had kept a ring that belonged to that poor bastard of a carpenter he sacrificed, which pins the murder on him, and now that he’s
