After Rome (12 page)

The rain began to fall harder. The air turned bitterly cold.

When the basement is finished I can install a hypocaust. Definitely, a hypocaust! Warm floors, warm water … But a hypocaust requires a furnace and slaves to stoke it. Perhaps not a hypocaust, then. I do want water piped inside, though, and good drainage. When I was living with my father I should have learned how such things worked, but that was left to the servants. Are the pipes tile or concrete? And how are they laid out, is it complicated? I'll find out. And I'll learn how to make concrete for the foundation and I'll buy tiles for the roof. Beautiful red tiles. I can do it. I can build …

For one heartbeat Cadogan's villa stood complete and splendid in his mind. On a high hill against a windswept sky. The home he would offer to Viola.

The vision was abruptly blotted out by a mental image of Quartilla.

Cadogan swore aloud.

If he abandoned her he knew he would never forgive himself. The woman would become a recurrent nightmare, spoiling any happiness he might find. His Christian conscience was not the only thing holding him back. Walking away was not practical. His most cherished belongings were in the fort, together with a substantial sum of money, cleverly concealed.

He turned and started back up the slope. He had only taken a few steps when he heard hoofbeats and a familiar voice shouted his name. With a sense of relief, Cadogan saw the dark horse emerge from the woods to the west and gallop toward him.

As Dinas drew rein Cadogan said, “I never thought I'd be so glad to see you.”

Dinas slid down from his horse. “Same old cousin, affectionate to the end.”

“It almost was the end between us. You told me about the danger to Viroconium and then rode away as if it didn't matter.”

“It mattered, but there was little I could do about, so I got on with my life—which is the advice I gave you, Cadogan.”

“You knew I would go anyway. You could have offered to go with me.”

“Why?”

“Have you no family feeling, Dinas?”

For a fleeting instant the other man's expression changed. Then he went on the attack again. “What about your own family feeling, Cadogan? You left your home just as I left mine, only it look you longer to do it. Which reminds me—what did you do with the woman?”

“What woman?”

“I forget her name; the woman I left with you. Did you sell her or”—Dinas flashed his familiar sardonic grin—“did you eat her?”

Cadogan smiled too; Dinas could always make him smile. “She told me her name was Quartilla. A real problem, that one: too ugly to sell and too skinny to eat.”

Dinas raised one eyebrow. “Don't tell me you kept her! You must have been desperate for a woman.”

“Not that one,” Cadogan assured him. “I'm glad you came back for her, she said you would.”

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Dinas was vigorously shaking his head. “I gave her to you as a present, you'd be insulting me if you returned her.”

“But I don't want her, Dinas! Can't you understand?”

“I understand completely, I don't want her either.”

“Then why on earth did you…” Cadogan broke off as he saw two more men come out of the forest. One was tall and unusually handsome, the other was short with unusually large ears. The dark stallion stretched his neck toward the short man and gave a soft whinny.

Cadogan said, “I thought he only liked you.”

“He still likes me best,” Dinas replied confidently. “But Meradoc seems to have a touch with horses.”

“Meradoc?”

“The little fellow over there; he joined me in Deva. The other one is called Pelemos. We met him along the way.”

Cadogan brightened. “You went all the way to Deva and then returned for Quartilla after all?”

“Of course not,” Dinas said scornfully, “I have no interest in her. I came back for you, cousin. I could use your help with a plan I have in mind. If it works we'll both be powerful men. We can have anything we want.”

Suddenly wary, Cadogan said, “I have enough for my needs already.”

“You're too easily satisfied, cousin; you always were. That's why you settled for plain little Viola while I went for the prettier one. What was her name? I've forgotten that too.” Ignoring the angry look Cadogan gave him, Dinas glanced toward the sky, then beckoned to Meradoc. “That rain is about to turn to sleet. Take my horse into the woods and find shelter for him, then you and Pelemos can join us inside.” He handed the stallion's reins to Meradoc and ran up the hill to the fort.

“You could have waited for an invitation!” Cadogan shouted as he ran after him.

He entered to find Quartilla seated at the table with a heaping bowl of food in front of her, but she was not eating. She was staring openmouthed at Dinas.

“No warm welcome from you, eh?” Dinas said to her. “Enough of this lounging about. Obviously Cadogan hasn't trained you properly, but when guests arrive the servants bring fresh water to wash their faces and feet.” When she continued to stare he struck his hands together like a thunderclap. “Now, Luculla! Jump to it!”

She jumped. As she ran out the door with a bucket in her hand Cadogan said, “What did you just call her?”

“Luculla. That's her name, I just remembered it.”

“That's not what she told me. She said her name was Quartilla and her father was a centurion. Days later she claimed he was a chieftain of the Iceni. What did she tell you?”

Dinas laughed. “We didn't have much conversation; I don't believe in talking to women. Exchange a few pleasant words with them and they think they're entitled to ask for your time—or your purse. I found her squatting in the weeds beside a trackway south of here. She was furious because I saw her relieving herself, so to make up for it, I offered to take her someplace where she could get food. She followed me here and I left her with you. As a gift,” he added.

“But weren't you even curious about her?”

“I'm curious about many things, cousin, but not about some stray woman I found in the road. From the look of her she was nothing and nobody. I did her a favor, that's all.”

If what Dinas had said was true—and it probably was, it fitted with his character—he had treated the woman shamefully. “What about those two strays you have with you now, Dinas? Are you hoping to dump them on me, too?”

“They aren't strays, either of them; I've recruited them. I told you I have a good idea. After your woman serves us a hot meal I'll explain it to you.”

“She's not my woman!” Cadogan sputtered.

Quartilla returned, red-faced and panting, with a brimming bucket carried from the well. In the doorway she almost collided with Meradoc and Pelemos. She hastily set the bucket down and stood staring at Pelemos as she had been staring at Dinas a few minutes earlier.

“Bring us some wine that's fit to drink and then prepare our meal,” Dinas said. “Roast meat if you have it. Otherwise, cook something in a pot.”

Awakened from her trance, she flared. “I'm not yours to command!”

“You're the only woman in the house,” he replied in a reasonable tone, “and there are four thirsty, hungry men here. Do your duty.”

Cadogan told his cousin, “I don't have any wine, just barley beer flavored with wormwood. And I don't know if Quartilla can cook.”

“Jupiter and Juno, man! Have you been cooking for her? I got here just in time.”

An hour later the four men were polishing off the remains of an adequate if not sumptuous meal of bread stuffed with pot cheese, venison stewed with dried fruit and juniper berries, and boiled apples flavored with cinnamon. The beer with which Quartilla filled their cups was a dark, musty beverage not to Meradoc's taste. When he set his cup aside Pelemos promptly drained it.

“Where did you learn to put cheese inside a loaf of bread?” Cadogan asked Quartilla.

“It is a great favorite in Egypt,” she said.

Dinas lifted an eyebrow. “Been to Egypt, have you?”

“No.” She would not look at him. Her eyes kept returning to Pelemos. But he remained oblivious to her, gazing into a faraway place.

“That good mare of yours, cousin,” Dinas remarked. “I haven't seen her yet. Where is she?”

“Outside somewhere,” Cadogan said with an airy wave of his hand. He would be embarrassed if Dinas knew he had lost the horse. “Grazing, you know.”

“In this weather? You should take better care of that animal, cousin. There'll be no more like her.”

While the woman cleared away the remnants of the meal the men gathered around the fire. A barrage of sleet was battering the roof; its chill seeped into the room. Meradoc took off his boots and set them to warm close to the fire. Cadogan rubbed his hands together, then blew on his fingers. “Now what's this idea of yours, Dinas?”

“In Deva I noticed that the market square was half abandoned, and the merchandise that was available looked like rubbish. Does that suggest anything to you?”

Meradoc lifted his head at the familiar question.

“Only that Deva is impoverished,” said Cadogan.

“Under the Romans it was a major garrison stocked with every sort of merchandise, just as Viroconium was when it served as a supply center for the western frontier. The resources of this island were traded for valuables from the far corners of the empire, and that trade used the sea-lanes. The importance of Deva's neglected market lies in its implications, cousin. The imported luxury goods that brought such high prices are gone.
But the sea-lanes are still there.
”

“I understand now!” Quartilla cried. “You want to reestablish the luxury trade yourself!”

Dinas shot her a look that Cadogan found hard to read. “Aren't you the clever thing, Luculla? There is only one problem with that idea. I know nothing about merchandising.”

“Neither do I,” Meradoc interjected, “but I think I could learn.”

Dinas turned to Cadogan. “Now you understand why I brought him along.”

“I don't understand anything, Dinas. Is Quartilla right, do you intend to sail to Iberia and buy olive oil for import? Knowing you as I do, the idea is bizarre, but…”

Dinas laughed; a laugh intended to hurt. “You poor sad fool, you never see more than part of the picture, do you? I have no intention of risking my life on the sea, I'm too fond of living. Since I have to spell it out for you, listen closely so I don't need to repeat myself. Cargo is still being shipped through the sea-lanes but it isn't guarded by the legions. Commerce is wide open. Do you see the opportunities now? What I propose is this…”

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

They talked until late in the night; pausing only to add another log to the fire on the hearth. Meanwhile Quartilla lay snoring on Cadogan's bed. Meradoc was curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed. His eyes were closed. Pelemos, still awake but indifferent to his surroundings, sat on a stool, staring into his empty cup. The golden lamplight loved the planes of his face.

“This idea of yours,” Cadogan said, “reminds me of the wild schemes you dreamed up when we were boys. You never thought anything through, Dinas; you never took things step by step. You rushed right in and expected me to back you up, and your half-baked notions invariably got me into trouble.”

“Only because you couldn't run away as fast as I could.”

“It would take more than speed to pull this off. You'd need a lot of men and a thorough knowledge of the western coast, Dinas, and you don't have either.”

“You underestimate me. Since I left home I've traveled continually. I know the Ordovici and the Demetae almost as well as I know our own Cornovii. I've even received hospitality from some of the Dumnonii—an interesting people indeed. Their accents are almost impenetrable, and their kings are said to wear a heavy crown to hide their ears because their common ancestor mated with a donkey.” Dinas burst into laughter. “That may or may not be true, of course; I never met their current king. But what I tell you next is true, Cadogan”—his voice sobered—“since the Romans left the old loyalties are breaking down.”

“What do you mean?”

“New kings and chieftains are driving out traditional leaders and carving up their land to suit themselves. They're seeking allies wherever they can find them, even among the barbarians—who are also claiming land. Britannia's descending into chaos and confusion, and not just because of the influx of foreigners. We're doing a lot of this to ourselves.

“Cadogan, do you remember what it felt like to be fifteen years old and full of juice, bursting to do
something
? No matter what tribe they belong to, young men today are frantic to do something, anything, and without Roman control they're a seething mass of undirected energy. If a spectacular stag burst from the forest, some of them would even follow it. That's why I'm confident I can recruit as large a company as I want.”

“I've never doubted your confidence,” said Cadogan, “but…”

“I'm well prepared for this,” Dinas insisted. “I've ridden the western coast from one end to the other; I know every beach and headland, I can tell you where every river and stream empties into the sea. I've explored the watchtowers the Romans built to protect the western shipping lanes and I know which ones are still usable. I've even found several possible locations for a stronghold.”

Cadogan was shaking his head. “I don't understand where I fit into this grand plan of yours, Dinas. Or Meradoc or Pelemos, for that matter.”

Lying on the floor, Meradoc heard his name. His eyes were closed but his ears were open.

“Meradoc is a treasure,” Dinas said with a smile in his voice. “He can do anything, he's as handy as a little pot. When we get more horses—and we will need more horses—he'll have charge of them, but there'll be plenty of other work for him too.”