Jack Whyte - The Eagles' Brood

She played for a while at guessing who it might be. She knew I had no trouble attracting any of the available women in the Colony, and once I had assured her that I was not in trouble with a jealous husband or paying my attentions to too young a girl, she became quite perplexed. I was on the point of confessing the truth when she suddenly spoke up.

"Wait! I have it!" Her face lit up. "The girl. What's her name! The mysterious one who disappeared from the guarded room after being ravaged and beaten so savagely. What was her name? Cassandra! That was it. You have her, don't you?"

I nodded, smiling with rueful admiration yet again at her perspicacity, and then I began haltingly to explain the entire circumstances of Cassandra's disappearance to my beloved great-aunt. I concealed nothing, telling her of my suspicions about Uther, even though it was an appalling admission in the face of her steadfast love for her grandson. She listened impassively, and when I had finished she sat silent, neither judging Uther nor condemning me for my lack of trust in my own family, although she seemed to have less difficulty than I did with my father's philosophy on the benefit of the doubt.

'Tell me," she asked eventually. "How do you feel about Uther? Do you have anger towards him in your heart?"

I shook my head slowly. "I don't think so, Auntie. Not anger. Confusion, more than anything. Your suspicion of the priest Remus makes far more sense to me than my suspicion of Uther's guilt. I wish we could have found that man, but we did not, and so the doubt remains. I will have to bring Uther and Cassandra face to face one of these days. That's the only way I'm going to know for sure, and the thought of doing it appals me."

· I had one more confession to make, and that was my love for Cassandra. That stumbling admission melted my great-aunt's heart while turning my face redder than a berry. Aunt Luceiia's expression was deeply serious and sympathetic. Did I wish to bring Cassandra to Camulod to live with her? She would be delighted to have her. I explained my reservations on that score, claiming expediency and the ease of safeguarding Cassandra in secrecy, rather than my own selfishness and my too rational fear of losing her, and Aunt Luceiia accepted them.

"Well, if you don't seek shelter for her, what did you come to ask me for?"

I cleared my throat. "Clothing. She has only one garment, Auntie, and it is a poor, rough thing. I had hoped you might be willing to let her have something old of your own, which would surely fit her."

She smiled gently, a look of mild disbelief crossing her face. "Clothing? Is that all? Well, I can see your point. If she is to winter out of doors she'll need more than one shift. Come with me. Give me your arm, and we'll see if I have any rags lying around that she can have."

I supported her by the arm, feeling the fragile weight of her, and she led me into her dressing room, where she uncovered chest upon chest of women's clothing.

"What colour are her eyes?"

"Grey."

"And her hair?"

"Fair."

"Fair! Is that the best you can do?"

"I think so. It's not yellow, nor is it golden. It is fair."

She sorted swiftly through the contents of her chests, throwing the occasional garment at me until my arms were full. Finally she stopped.

"There," she said. "That ought to do her for a while."

"All of these? Aunt Luceiia, these are beautiful! They're far—"

She cut me short. 'Too fine? Is that what you were going to say?" I nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. "Shame on you, Caius Britannicus. You would have me believe you love this girl, and then tell me these things are too fine for her? If she has what it takes to enthral you, Nephew, dressed in only a simple shift, then these things are not good enough for her."

She paused, eyeing me with her head to one side, and then she sniffed and turned quickly away, but not before I had seen the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "I shall have to meet this young woman," she said, over her shoulder. "If she won't come to me, then I shall find a way to go to her. Now, those are all light things. She will need some heavy woollens for cold weather, and I have just the thing." She crossed the room and began to sort through another wealth of clothing, all of these heavier than the ones I held, and the pile in my arms grew cumbersome. She finished it off with a magnificent, heavy, hooded cloak of thick, white wool that would shut out a winter storm completely. Finally, she was satisfied. "Good. Bring all of these back into the family room. Ludella will pack them in a chest and you can send a soldier for it in an hour or so. It should sit on your horse's rump, so you'll have no problem transporting it. Now. Is there anything else she needs?"

I could think of nothing else, and thanked her profusely, but she waved my thanks away.

"Now give me a kiss and let me get about my business. I have company coming."

I grinned at her. "A secret assignation?"

"No. A priest."

"More priests, Auntie? Haven't you got enough of those?"

"Don't be impertinent. Kiss me and go."

I did as she bade me, feeling much better than I had in coming.

Back at my quarters I called in the guard on duty and told him to have my prisoner brought to me under escort and to send the Legate Titus to me immediately. By the time I heard the approach of marching feet, I had signed the copies of my orders on the horse census and was finishing my instructions to Titus, who glanced curiously at the giant young Scot, saluted me smartly and left to begin the count of the livestock in the fort. I looked up at my prisoner.

He stood erect, a portrait of pride and indifference, staring at a spot somewhere above my head. His escorts flanked him, standing stiffly at attention.

'Thank you," I said to them, "you can wait outside." They withdrew, closing the doors behind them. I let young Donuil stand there as I returned to the documents in front of me, giving them one more unnecessary reading. Finally, I sat back and crossed my legs. "Well, Prince Donuil, what do you think of Camulod so far?"

He did not answer, so I rose and crossed to the window, turning my back on him deliberately, fully aware of the sword I had left lying on the table top within his reach. The shutters were open and I looked for some moments at the life going on outside. There was no sound of movement from behind me. I turned back and faced him. He had not moved a muscle. I crossed my arms in front of me and spoke to him again, weighting my voice only slightly with an edge of ill humour.

"Are you being sullen just to bait me? Or do you regret your bargain already? Your presence here spared the lives of more than a thousand men. Do you intend to celebrate that by spending five years in silence? And in a cell?" Still no response. I went back to my seat and sat there, staring at him in silence, fully prepared to wait him out. I had nothing to lose but time and it was on my side. The silence stretched and grew until it approached the point where stubbornness became a matter of pride, but I was prepared for that. Just before I judged that time to have arrived, I picked up a small wooden hammer and rang the brass gong on my table top. The door opened immediately and the guard stepped into the room.

"Commander?"

"Ask the centurion of the guard to send a messenger to me at once."

The guard left and we returned to the waiting game, and this time I busied myself with one of my uncle's codexes until I heard a knock at the door.

"Come!"

A trooper stepped into the room. "Centurion Tertius sent me, Commander."

"Good. Please go at once to the quarters of my aunt, Luceiia Varrus, and collect a chest that she has there for me. If it is not ready, wait for it and take it to my sleeping quarters. You will be expected."