In the end, however, he did not have to suffer with his wife through this pregnancy. The wars in Dacia had been going badly. Gaius felt a pang at hearing the Second Legion was to be withdrawn and the fortress they had built in the North destroyed. He supposed that it had become apparent that the North could not be held without a far greater investment of men and materiel than the Empire could afford. A lot of lives would have been saved, Gaius thought grimly, if they had had the sense to see that three years earlier!
He took to spending his spare time at the army post, listening to the news. On orders from the Emperor, the new Governor,
Sallustius Lucullus, had commanded that all the northernmost fortresses be abandoned, their walls pulled down and their timber buildings burned so that nothing would remain that could be of use to the enemy. The Twentieth marched down from the North and settled back into their old quarters in Glevum, but no one knew for how long.
It was the Second Legion, however, which was ordered from Deva to Dacia. Macellius, announcing that he was too old to go dragging across the Empire, decided that the time had come to retire and started planning a new house in Deva. But Gaius was surprised by an invitation from the new legionary Commander to join his staff and sail with them. What amazed him almost as much was the fact that even Licinius did not object when he indicated that he would like to accept the offer.
“We’ll miss you, lad,” the old man said, “but it’s time that you were attending to your career now that you’ve started your family. Haven’t I been singing your praises all over Londinium for just this reason? It’s a pity you won’t be here for the birth of your second child, but it was only to be expected. Don’t worry about Julia – I’ll take care of her. You do your duty and come back covered with glory!”
Twenty-Two
Dieda returned to the Forest House in the middle of May, a little over four years after she had gone into exile in Eriu. For once the day was sunny, and Eilan received her in the garden, hoping their meeting might be eased by a more informal setting, but she had asked Caillean to stay with her just the same. She sat up straighter, her veil sliding down over her shoulders, as Dieda came through the gateway, and Caillean hurried forward to greet her.
“Dieda, my child, it is good indeed to see you. It has been too long —” They embraced ceremoniously, pressing cheek to cheek.
Dieda was wearing a loose gown of white linen in the Irish style, lavishly embroidered, with a bard’s mantle of sky blue edged with golden fringe and held with a golden pin. Her hair, confined by an embroidered band, fell down in ringlets but, despite the festive raiment, her manner seemed strained.
“Ah, I had forgotten the peace here —” said Dieda, looking around her at the glossy green of the mint beds, and the silvery foliage of lavender where the bees buzzed among the purple flowers.
“I am afraid you will find us quiet indeed after all the kings and the princes of Eriu.” Eilan found her voice.
“It is a fine land, certainly, and very appreciative of singers and poets and all kinds of makers of music, but after a time one begins to miss one’s own country.”
“Well you certainly have the very lilt of Eriu in your voice, my child,” observed Caillean. “It is good to hear that music again!”
Certainly nobody who heard her speak could confuse us now, thought Eilan. It was not only a matter of accent but of depth and timbre. Dieda’s voice had always been pleasant, but now she used it like a well-tuned instrument. Even ill words said in such a beautiful voice could be forgiven more easily.
“I’ve had time and enough to acquire it,” said Dieda. Her gaze slid to Eilan. “It seemed half a lifetime I was away.”
Eilan nodded. She felt herself to be a century older than the girl Lhiannon had chosen as her successor five years ago. But there was a petulant twist to Dieda’s mouth. Did she still resent being sent away?