“What is the matter?” Eilan asked. “Why were you looking at me like that?”
“A draught,” Caillean murmured. “It chilled us both.” But they could both see that the rushlights burned unstirringly. My foresight is not always true, she told herself. Not always . . .
She shook her head. “Let us hope the streams are still impassable,” she said. Even the thought of raiders was a welcome distraction after that vision.
“Why do you say that, Caillean? My father will certainly want to come as soon as he can, and my mother too, to see their new grandchild. And all the more so if, as you say, Mairi is widowed —”
Caillean started. “Did I say that? Well, surely the weather will do as it will; never did I hear that even for the will of the High Druid we had more either of sun or rain. But I cannot help thinking that your kinsmen are not the only ones who can ride the roads. Come,” she added, “The babe must go back to her mother’s breast. She moved toward the box bed, the swaddled child in her arms.
Eight
Over the Roman camp at Deva rain continued to fall with maddening insistence. The men stayed in their barracks, dicing or repairing worn gear, or made their way to the wine shop to drink the afternoon away. In the midst of the all-encompassing wetness, Macellius Severus sent for his son.
“You are familiar with the country to the west,” he began. “Do you think you could guide a party along the roads to Bendeigid Vran’s household?”
Gaius stiffened, letting his oiled leather cape drip on to the tiled floor. “Yes, but, Father —”
Macellius guessed his meaning. “I am not suggesting that you should spy on a friend’s household, my boy, but Hibernian raiders have been sighted off Segontium. Every British housestead in the region will be at risk if they slip by. It’s for their own good, though I don’t suppose they will see it that way. But if I must send a troop in to see what’s happening, is it not better that it be led by a friend than by a Celt-hater, or some idiot fresh from Rome who thinks the Britons still go about painted blue?”
Gaius felt himself coloring. He hated the way his father could suddenly make him feel like a child.
“I am at your service, Father – and at Rome’s,” he added stiffly after a moment, feeling so cynical about the polite formula that he half-expected a sneer in response. How corrupt I am becoming, but at least I know when I am being a hypocrite. Will I be so accustomed to putting on that air of benign superiority by the time I am my father’s age that I believe it?
“Or do you fear that your temper will run away with you because Bendeigid refused you his daughter’s hand?” his father went on. “I told you how it would be.”
Gaius felt his fists clench and bit his lip hard. He had never bested his father in a confrontation and knew he would have no chance now. Still, those words had been like salt on a raw wound.
“You told me, and you were right,” Gaius said through his teeth. “Trot out whatever heifer you will – any girl with broad hips and good bloodlines, this Julia if you like – and I will do my duty.”
“You are a Roman and I expect you to behave like one,” Macellius said more gently. “You acted honorably, and you will continue to do so. In Juno’s name, boy, the girl you loved may be in danger. Even though you can’t marry her, don’t you want to make sure she is safe and well?”
And to that, of course, he could make no answer at all, but he felt his stomach curdling with a dread that owed nothing to physical fear as he saluted and went out of the door.
Perhaps I am simply afraid to face them all, Gaius thought as his little troop of horsemen detached from the Auxilia trotted through the gate of the fortress and splashed down the hill. In a way I did betray their trust, and they were all kind to me. During the confusion of detailing the men and packing he had been able to suppress his feelings, but now the sick apprehension washed over him once more.