TWENTY-FIVE
Gaius woke in the early morning. Today, whatever else happened, he must do something about finding his son. Ardanos must know how to contact his granddaughter. He was not anxious to talk to the old man, whom he suspected of being as much a fanatic in his own way as Father Petros, but he could see no alternative. The only problem that remained was how to find Ardanos, who no longer lived near Deva.
But while he lay contemplating the problem, he heard a peremptory knock on the front gate, and his steward complaining as he went to answer it. Gaius threw on a robe and slid out of bed, carefully, so as not to wake Julia. A legionary was waiting in the front courtyard with a request from Macellius for a visit. Gaius raised one eyebrow. Officially, his father was retired, but he was aware that the old man had made himself a trusted adviser to the Twentieth Legion’s young Commander.
If he was gone when Julia discovered the death of her monkey, he would not have to face her tears. Gaius rode through the town and directly to the gates of the fortress, exchanging salutes with the guard on duty, who knew him well from his stint as Procurator.
“Your father said you would probably arrive before noon,” said the soldier. “You’ll find him with the Legate in the Praetorium.”
On the bench outside the Commander’s office he saw a weary-looking woman. She was a Briton of the dark-haired, pale-skinned type like his mother’s people; somewhere between thirty and thirty-five, he guessed, dressed in a gown of saffron wool rather lavishly embroidered with gold. Gaius wondered what she had done, and when the legionary on duty ushered him into the presence of the Commander and his father, he put the question.
“Her name is Brigitta,” his father answered with distaste. “She calls herself Queen of the Demetae. When her husband died, he left his fortune in equal shares to her and to the Emperor, and she seems to feel this gives her the right to rule his kingdom. Sound familiar?”
Gaius licked dry lips. It was common practice for a rich man to split his estate between his own family and the Emperor in hopes that the Imperial co-heir would make sure the other heirs got their share. Agricola had done the same thing.
The Legate looked from Gaius to his father. Clearly it did not sound familiar to him.
“Boudicca,” Gaius said succinctly. “Her husband tried the same thing, but the Iceni had debts to some fairly prominent senators. When he died, they moved in, and she tried to resist. She and her daughters were rather…badly treated and she raised the tribe in a rebellion that nearly swept us out of this land!” That was the specter that Macellius was seeing when he looked at the unhappy woman sitting outside, especially since the Demetae were one of the tribes that counted descent through the mother’s line.
“Oh, that Boudicca,” said the Legate. He was called Lucius Domitius Brutus, and he seemed to Gaius rather young for such a major posting, but he was reputed to be a good friend of the Emperor.
“That Boudicca,” Macellius echoed disgustedly. “So you see, sir, why the tribune over at Moridunum scooped her up as soon as the will was read, and why we cannot simply carry out the terms of the will as they stand, no matter how much they benefit the Emperor.”
“On the other hand,” said Gaius, “it should also be clear that this woman must be handled like blown glass. I assure you that every native in this country will be waiting to see what we do.” A thought occurred to him. “I don’t suppose she has children?”
“A couple of daughters somewhere, I’ve heard,” said Macellius wearily, “but I don’t know what has become of them; they are only about three or four, worse luck, or I’d have them properly married off to a citizen. I have no particular stomach for this business of war against women and children; but if women will mingle in politics, what can we do? Rumor has it that she—or those who would like to use her—have sent messages seeking alliance with the Hibernians.”
Gaius shuddered, remembering the raid on Eilan’s home. “Take her to Londinium,” he suggested. “If she’s sent to Rome her people will think she’s a prisoner, but if she’s set up in a fine house in the city they may think she’s betrayed them. Tell her that unless she lives in Londinium she won’t see a sestercius of her husband’s gold.”