Jack Whyte - The Skystone

"I know. " It was getting late, and I stirred, feeling that I should be moving. "What has this to do with Phoebe?"

He shook his head in a way that conveyed extreme impatience. "I don't know. Perhaps I am just being a pessimist. But our noble Procurator let slip a reference in his cups that night to at least one woman who died under interrogation in the matter of a limping, grey-haired man. "

"Phoebe?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. As I said, he let the reference slip out and then covered it. It wasn't mentioned again. I knew nothing of Phoebe at that time, and I did not want to bring the matter up again openly. Nor did I want to arouse either his anger or his suspicion by attempting to question him subtly. I let the matter rest, but it worried me. As Military Governor, my job is difficult enough. I have no desire to become involved in the actions of our inestimable Procurator. Had I obtained any more information, I would have been forced to initiate inquiries, without knowing where to start or what to look for. "

Outraged, ' I glanced at Alaric. He was listening attentively, his face devoid of any emotion. My own emotions were more volatile.

"Damnation, Tonius, that's abominable! What did he say?"

"I didn't catch all of it. I had been drinking heavily myself, remember. I heard him muttering something about almost having had the whoreson. Had had his whore, but the bitch was stubborn. Died without saying a word. It was the mumbling of a drunken man I heard, Publius. By the time I had begun to hear what I was hearing, if you know what I mean, it was almost over. I thought about it for a few seconds and decided I didn't want to hear any more. But it stayed with me. I could not get it out of my head."

"I'm not surprised. Murder is against the Roman law, Legate. "

"Perhaps. But was he really talking of murder? I don't know that, Varrus. And even if I had known for certain, there was nothing much I could have done about it. My only informant would hardly have been likely to repeat his self-condemnation when-sober, would he?" I was seething with impatience. "Well? Was that all he said?" Tonius nodded. I made no effort to keep the anger out of my voice. "So what makes you think this has anything to do with Phoebe, in God's name? A drunken man's hint about some woman who died, and may have been deliberately killed, in a hunt for a crippled man. That doesn't say 'Phoebe'

to me!"

Tonius stood erect. "It does to me, Publius. Be serious. The crippled man we're talking about is you! And the woman was from Verulamium. That much I heard. I didn't think about Phoebe because I didn't know of her existence. It was only when Alaric told me of his own concerns for her that I made the connection. "

Though I was angry, it was not at Tonius, but at this situation. I knew it had to be coincidence. In my frustration, I rose to my feet and held my open palms towards the fire.

"Damn it, Tonius, nobody in Verulamium except Alaric knows who I am, let alone that I knew Phoebe! What you two are suggesting just isn't possible! There is no way, absolutely no... " but I stopped in mid sentence, and my flesh crawled with cold bumps as I saw a face in my mind — the face of the cutpurse in the crowd leaving the amphitheatre in Verulamium, the face of the man I had handed over to the army for execution in Alchester. He had been holding a bare blade in his hand, coming towards me. Someone had been robbed and had shouted, and I had looked and seen the man I supposed to be the thief. That had been coincidence. But there all coincidence ended. He had already singled me out. He had been watching me. And that meant he had seen Phoebe with me. He had died in Alchester, but he had been travelling with seven companions on the road, two of whom were still alive. One, or both of them, might have been with him in that crowd. Or he might have spoken to them about recognizing me for the first time that evening, when I was at the theatre with a woman. And he would have described the woman. My stomach heaved with sickness. That would have been all that was necessary. A recollection by one of the two surviving assassins that I had been seen in the company of a pretty woman with red hair. Verulamium was not a big town, and I had made no effort to be secretive while I was there with Phoebe. A hundred people could have remembered seeing us together, and any number of them might have recognized Phoebe. All of this flashed through my mind in an instant, and I knew beyond any doubt that Tonius and Alaric were right, and she was dead, and the burden of guilt crashed down and physically buckled my knees.

Alaric caught me before I fell against the brazier, and he and Tonius almost carried me between them back to my couch, where I sat like a man in a swoon for many minutes before they could get any response out of me. I have no recollection of any of that. I can remember only the realization that I had killed Phoebe with my lust. Had I not gone to see her on my way through Verulamium that day, she would still be alive. After that, I have only blankness in my memory until I became aware of Alaric sitting across from me. leaning forward and staring intently into my eyes, his face drawn with lines of worry.

Later, much later, I accepted the fact that my guilt was futile and unjustifiable, but that made the pain no easier to bear. I also accepted the fact that Claudius Caesarius Seneca and I were fated to the death. One of us would kill the other, and I was determined that I would survive the outcome.

That same night, I told Luceiia what had happened, and she mourned with me for the unfortunate young woman who had died simply because I had befriended her. In the endless time of a sleepless night, I decided to conceal my grief from the wedding guests and swore to mourn Phoebe later, when there would be time for mourning. I swore to avenge her death, and I fantasized about what I would do to Seneca when next I faced him.

XXIV

The wedding celebrations went on for two more weeks. Civic dignitaries and provincial administrators mingled with military officers and soldiers of all ranks and descriptions, including young Picus. There were bishops and Druids and priests, merchants, landowners, farmers, stonemasons, smiths, clothmakers, shoemakers, weavers, soothsayers and musicians. There were Romans of Roman descent, Romans of British descent, Greeks, North Africans, Britons of all descriptions, Gauls from across the sea and Celts from the mountain country at our back. It was a holiday celebration to rival the Saturnalia of bygone days, and it was enjoyed to the full by everyone. On the day of the wedding itself, the sun shone bright and warm, and I was even more expansive than a bridegroom has the right to be. I had spent the previous night in the arms of my love, and the last seeds of doubt over Phoebe had been purged with the spouting of my own seed and the love and understanding of the woman I was to marry the following day. Spring had finally arrived; everything was green and bedecked with flowers. There was no wind, and the air was rich with the perfumes of springtime and alive with bird-song. My bride looked brilliantly beautiful in her wedding gown of African cloth, and I knew in all modesty that I looked magnificent in the suit of supple leather clothes Luceiia had made for me with her own hands. As we exchanged our vows, binding each to the other, even the birds seemed to stop singing so that all might hear the sound of our voices — Luceiia's clear and sweet, and my own surprisingly timid. Our contract was sealed with a kiss, and the celebrations were under way in earnest.

Each glorious spring day was filled with games, athletic competitions of all kinds, hunting contests and the like. There was food in abundance and everyone had his fill of it whenever hunger irked him. The evenings were filled with song, dance and dalliance, and I fancy I was not the only man who consummated a relationship in the course of that time. I know that Caius enjoyed himself thoroughly during those two weeks, although his motivations were hardly connubial, for he saw in this gathering of all his most trusted friends a unique opportunity to sound them out on their views of the Empire's affairs, and to promote his own beliefs.