Lindsey Davis - The Iron Hand of Mars

I had known it. Justinus dashed into danger with the same offhand courage his sister showed when she decided impatiently that someone had to be businesslike. 'So what did Veleda answer him?'

"Come into my tower!"'

What the pedlar said was true. The moment Justinus reached her, Veleda strode back towards her monument. He followed. Then we watched our innocent tribune walk into the tower alone with her.

I strode to the tower base. The goat-thief guards were standing about looking mystified, but they closed ranks when I appeared. I stood at the door with my head thrown back, staring up at the old Roman stonework with its rows of red brick-tile strengthening. There was nothing I could do. I returned to the troops. The tribune's dog remained behind, sitting at the entrance to the tower and watching intently for his master to reappear.

The recruits were taking bets on his chances, half terrified and half envious: 'She'll eat him!'

I wanted to concentrate on other things. 'Perhaps she'll spit him out…'

How was I to tell the tribune's sister about this? She would blame me, I knew.

'Why has he gone in there, sir?'

'You heard him: he's going to talk things over quietly.'

'What things, sir?'

'Nothing much, I expect.'

Fate. World history. His friends' lives. The tribune's death…

'Sir – '

'Shut up, Lentullus.'

I went back to the hurdles. I eased myself into a squatting position, trying to keep off the ground. It was the wrong time of year for sitting on grass; tonight would have a heavy dew. It was starting to feel like the wrong time of year for anything.

The others all fell on Orosius, then slowly joined me, settling down to wait for the unknown. Orosius had little to say for himself except that in his opinion the tribune was all right. I tweaked his ear and told him we knew that.

I should have known. He had an appetite for information. Camillus Justinus would not spend three years safeguarding the frontiers of a province without learning how to speak to its people. Now he was on his own with much more than the language.

He was so thorough it shook me. With his fresh-faced way of getting to know every soldier he commanded, this unlikely soul had even persuaded some hardbitten bucinator to teach him to sound a passable trumpet alarm. A month of woodcraft had depressed him, but left his ingenuity intact. Having come on this adventure in the first place, he would not give up. But he was twenty. He had never been exposed to harm. He stood no chance.

He had never been exposed to women, but perhaps we were safe there.

'Are foreign priestesses virgins, sir?'

'I believe it's not obligatory.' Only Rome equated chastity with holiness; and even Rome installed ten vestals at a time, in order to give latitude for mistakes.

'Is the tribune going to – '

'He's going to talk about politics.' Even so, the novel combination of the destiny of nations and the most attractive woman he had ever had to talk to might prove a heady mix.

'The witch might have other ideas!' They were bolder now. 'Maybe the tribune doesn't know what to do – '

'The tribune seems a lad who can improvise.'

But I certainly hoped I never had to tell his sister that I had let some mad-eyed prophetess make a man of her little brother at the top of a signal-tower.

When the torches had waned and the feast died down, I ordered our lads to rest. Later, I left Helvetius on watch, picked my way between the slumbering Bructeri and stole near the tower. One guard with a lance lolled asleep on the entrance steps. I could have grasped his weapon and closed his windpipe with its shaft, but I let him be. Others were inside the tower base, so entering was impossible.

I walked round outside. Moonlight draped the wall with sheaths of startling white. High above shone a faint glimmer from a lamp. I could hear voices. Difficult to tell which language they were using; the level of conversation was too low. It sounded like discussion rather than argument. It sounded more as if they were talking over a concert or the merits of a wall fresco than ascertaining the Empire's horoscope. At one point the tribune said something that amused the prophetess; she answered, then they both laughed.

I could not decide whether to groan or grin. I went back to my men.

Helvetius thumped my shoulder. 'All right?'

'They're talking.'

'That sounds dangerous!'

'More dangerous when they stop, centurion.' Suddenly I confided, 'I want to marry his sister.'

'He told me.'

'I didn't think he knew I was serious.'

'He's worried,' said Helvetius, 'that you may not be aware it's what his sister has in mind.'

'Oh, she's a frank woman! I imagined he thought I was just a low-life adventurer who was playing around with her.'

'No, he thinks you're the man for the business.' Helvetius clapped me on the back. 'So this is cosy – now we all know where we are!'

'True. The man I want to be my children's favourite uncle is – '

'Is likely to come back to us with a rather stiff walk and a queer look in his eye! You can't make his choices. He's not a baby.'

'No, he's twenty, and never been kissed… Well, probably. With anyone else I might have wondered whether he had acquired his slick mastery of German from a girl. 'He's never had his throat cut with a sickle in a sacred grove either, centurion!'

'Get some rest, Falco. You know what he's like when he gets an interesting chat going. If the lady feels just as talkative, it's going to be a long night.'

It was the longest night I spent in Germany. When he came back, all the others were asleep. I was watching out for him. It was dark. The moon had travelled into a deep band of cloud, but our eyes were adjusted. He saw me stand up. We clasped hands, then spoke in whispers, Justinus in a light, excited tone.

'Lot to tell you.' His adrenalin was running at a fierce rate.

'What's going on? Are you on parole?'

'She wants time alone. I have to go back when the moon comes out, and she'll tell me if it's war or peace.' He was exhausted. 'I hope her lunar forecast is reliable…'

I surveyed the sky. The heaviness above was an unshed storm; I could see it would pass over. 'She's right – and like all magic, that's observation, not prophecy.'

We crouched down by a tree. He gave me something. 'A knife?'

'Yours. She had her presents on a coffer; I recognised it. I told her it belonged to my brother-in-law.'

'Thanks – which includes the compliment. It's my best knife, but if she's handing out hospitality gifts I can suggest more useful things.'

'I think she gave me the knife to show she was detached, and not influenced by presents.'

'Or on the make!'

'Cynic! What should I have asked for?'

I made a silly suggestion, and he laughed. But his task was too oppressive for jokes. 'Marcus, I've nothing to offer. We should have brought presents.'

'We brought the cash box.'

'That's to pay the recruits!' He had a strange simplicity. 'They'd rather be living than dead but paid up.'

'Ah!'

'I'll fetch the money from where you left it. Orosius can show me. Now tell me what you and Veleda talked about.'

'It was quite an experience!' That sounded ominous. 'We talked ourselves all round the forum. I've done what I could for the Emperor's mission. I told her we all ought to accept that the people on the west bank of the Rhenus have chosen to be Romanised, and that unless there is a threat to their security, the Emperor has no ambitions for crossing to the east.' Justinus dropped his voice. 'Marcus, I'm not so certain that will always hold.'

'It's policy. Things may change along the Danube, but don't complicate the issue with what may never happen. She's shrewd enough to draw conclusions for herself.'