Jack Whyte - The Skystone

A pretty speech indeed for a mere lad. I could see that Britannicus was moved. He stood and approached his son and embraced him without speaking. I felt Luceiia's eyes on me, and when I looked, they were awash with tears. Britannicus turned again to me and I saw approval in his eyes. He cleared his throat, and I wondered what he was going to say.

"Another cup of wine, Publius, my friend, to wet the head of the Empire's newest recruit. "

While Picus reverently showed his prize to the three officers, we toasted him, and we toasted the old Twentieth Legion, and then we toasted Varrus the sword-maker. When we had emptied our cups, Britannicus looked at his son again, his eyebrow high and imperious.

"Now, young man, you may retire. You are still a civilian and not yet of a legal age to bear arms. We bid you good night. "

When the boy had gone we sat down again.

"He's a fine-looking young man, Caius, " I said. "Looks like a Greek god."

"Looks like a damned Hun, is what he looks like! His mother's family all look like that. They maintain they're of pure Roman stock, but one of their ancestral grandmothers became overfond of a northern slave, if you ask me. "

Picus's departure seemed to be the unspoken signal for the break-up of the dinner party. Shortly after he had gone, the three young officers also excused themselves. They had to be astir before dawn and had a long journey ahead of them. Luceiia left Caius alone for a short while and went to confer with Diomede and the kitchen staff about arrangements for an early breakfast and rations for the travellers, and when she came back she bade us both good night and warned us not to stay up too long talking. Caius picked up the wine jug, which still held a good amount, and the two of us went into his cubiculum, where one of Diomede's people had a roaring brazier prepared for our comfort.

We sat together in companionable silence for a while, each of us busy with his own thoughts. Caius broke it by thanking me again for the gesture of the sword, and I shrugged it off, saying I could think of no better purpose for the weapon.

"Nevertheless, " he insisted, "it was a gesture worthy of a noble friend. "

"Good, " I said with a small smile. "I was a little worried — not much, but a little — that you might object to my giving it without consulting you. I did it on impulse, but the sword was made for you in the first place. " He shook his head. "No, Varrus. How could I possibly have any objections? It is a magnificent sword and one which I would have been proud to carry. But I no longer need a sword, and Picus will love it. There will be no other like it in his legion. And, by the way, I know I've asked you something like this before, but how did you get the iron of the blade so light in colour? Is it skystone metal?"

I grinned, shaking my head. "No, no skystones, no magic — merely one of my grandfather's tricks, Commander. We mix charcoal into the iron during smelting and tempering. It toughens and hardens the blade and somehow enables it to hold a much harder, finer edge. As a side effect, it seems to lighten the colour, too. "

"Ah, yes, your melting and smelting. You started to tell me about that once before, last time we met. Tomorrow I want to talk to you about it at more length. And what about the Celtic scrollwork on the sheath? It's the same as the work on the one your grandfather made, isn't it? The one Theodosius has now. "

"Yes, more or less. It was your friend Bishop Alaric who got me interested in that... among other things. "

He smiled. "Alaric is a catalyst. No one who meets him is ever unchanged. But Luceiia tells me you are a wealthy man now — a legacy from your grandfather, I understand? It sounds like a fascinating tale. I'd like to hear it, if you have the time. "

"There's not much to tell, Commander. " sat silent for a few minutes, gathering my thoughts. Then, in as few words as possible, I told him the story of finding the golden hoard in grandfather's pikes. He listened carefully, as always, and then began asking questions that led from the gold all the way to everything else I had been doing over the past five years. I answered them all briefly, hoping to get them out of the way and then get him talking about his adventures, but try as I would, there was no way I could sidestep his questions and work in some of my own.

I ended up by telling him the whole story of my run-in with Seneca, my flight from Colchester, and my troubles on the road to Aquae Sulis.

"So, " he said, finally, "it is to the Senecas that we owe the pleasure of your company. You have been here how long, now? A month? Two? And your initial encounter with the Seneca brat was a month before that, more or less?"

'"Less. " I said. "About two weeks, perhaps three. " "Does Quinctilius Nesca know you by sight?" "No. not at all. None of them really knows who I am. The scum I met on the road were looking only for a grey-haired man with a bad limp. That's all they have to go on. They'll never find me here. "

"Hmmm. unless Primus Seneca remembers that I had a friend with grey hair and a bad limp when he last saw me. which is not too unlikely!

Never underestimate these Seneca creatures, Publius. They are not like other men. They have a capacity for evil that is almost supernatural. " "In that case. Commander. " I said, troubled by the ominous tone of his voice and his immediate identification of a point that had occurred to me months before. "I had better move on. I see no point in attracting trouble here to your home. "

"Don't be naive. Publius, that will solve nothing. If they come here, they come: your absence will not deter them. You and I should get some sleep. It is late, and we have to be astir early tomorrow. We will talk more about this in daylight. But there's no need to worry, my friend. I have resources of my own. The first thing we shall do is check on the status of their spleen — ask a few questions and find out how active the hunt is today. It is more than possible that Primus never made the connection between you and me, with only a sparse description to go on. I have been away for a long time, out of sight and, we can hope, out of mind. Either way. we will know within fifteen days. Now we had better get to bed. "

"Commander. " I struggled with my thoughts. "Before we do, Commander, I have a question. "

His chin sank onto his chest, and I had the distinct impression that he was not listening to me.

"Commander?"

"Commander! That's three damned Commanders in one breath!" I blinked at this unexpected explosion, and he sighed in exasperation before turning to face me and continuing.

"Varrus, you and I have known each other, as men and as comrades, for over eleven years. I cannot think of one other man I admire more or esteem more highly. I am privileged, I believe, to call you friend. I know there is a part of you that has never stopped thinking of yourself as a centurion and of me as a senior officer, but I made you my primus pilus, Varrus, and I have never regretted it for a moment. I didn't do it out of friendship, either. You earned that promotion. Your talents and your natural abilities demanded that you achieve that rank. In many ways, you, my friend, are the embodiment of all that I hold worthy of honour in the term 'Roman. ' I know career officers by the hundred, and politicians, senators and emperors who cannot begin to be worthy of comparison with you. Don't look like that! I know you find it embarrassing to hear such things, but hear me, and heed me. My name is Britannicus to all of my colleagues and associates. My friends call me Caius. Nobody calls me Commander any longer, except you. My name is Caius. Now let me hear you say it, "

"Caius. "

"That's right. And I shall call you Publius. Except when we both forget in the heat of the moment, we shall address each other as friends and brothers. Agreed?"