The summer, and our preparations to leave Britannia, were drawing to an end when Philip came into my chamber to announce a visitor. I was lying wrapped in a shawl on one of the couches with Eldri at my feet. It was summer, but clouds had moved in from the sea the night before and a damp chill weighted the air. Constantius had gone off to a meeting at the Mithraeum—not a ritual, as those were always conducted by night, but some business connected with the temple. I did not know what rank he had attained in the Mysteries, but his administrative responsibilities suggested it was a high one.
I had been pretending to look at the romance by Longus that Constantius had brought home so that I could brush up on my Greek. It was called Daphnis and Chloe and its exotic adventures should have been a potent distraction. But in truth I had been asleep. I slept a great deal—it made it easier to forget that the bright spirit that for a little while had made its home in my womb was gone. As Philip spoke I let the parchment roll up again.
“I will tell her to go away—” said Philip protectively. Since his recovery and my own illness, he had been my shadow, as if we were bound together by our pain.
“No—who is it?” I asked, with a quick glance around the room to make sure it was fit to be seen.
The walls had been painted in tones of warm gold, with festoons of acanthus leaves, and some of the striped rugs the local people wove took the chill off the tiled floor. A basket with wool and a spindle had been left on one of the tables, and several book rolls lay on another, but the room was clean. If the wife of one of Constantius’s associates had come to see me, I should make the effort to be polite to her.
“I think she is a seller of herbs. She has a covered basket… She said she had a medicine for what ailed you,” he added unhappily. “I didn’t tell her, mistress, I promise you—”
“It is all right, Philip. These people all talk to each other—no doubt she has learned of my trouble from someone in the town.
Perhaps she will have something useful.” I sighed. “You may as well bring her in.”
In truth, I had little hope of it, but it was bad enough that Constantius must drag a wife halfway across the Empire; he should not have to deal with an invalid. But deep down I understood that for any of the nostrums with which well-meaning people were plying me to work, I had to truly want to get well.
In a few moments Philip was back, standing aside as an old woman came into the room. Even before I saw her face, senses long unused were sending a prickle of shock across my skin. As the woman began to unwrap her basket, I realized it had been recognition.
One moment she was an old, bent woman in a tattered shawl, like a hundred others who came to sell their wares in the town. In the next, she had gathered the glamour around her, and stood in all her majesty before me, seeming almost too tall for the room. Philip’s eyes widened.
“Lady—” Without thinking, I had risen to my feet, head bowed in salutation. Then anger flared through me and I straightened. ” What are you doing here!”
Philip, bless him, took a protective step forwards. I bit back my next words.
“I could ask the same question of you,” said Ganeda, “shut away within these walls! We must talk. Come out into the light and the air.”
“I have been ill—” I began, automatically on the defensive.
“Nonsense—you will never be better if you curl up like a lapdog! Come!” Assuming obedience, she started through the door.
Eldri jumped down from the couch, growling faintly, and my lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. At least in the atrium we would be less likely to be overheard. Motioning to Philip to stay inside, I picked up my shawl and followed her.