Savia remained still as a statue, shocked by the sudden turnaround. Clodius reared up from the dirt to fumble for his sword and then stopped in humiliation.
His captor had stolen it.
Valeria had left them all behind, pounding down the track in fear and exultation, breathless at the power of the animal under her, the horse's muscles rolling like the waves of the sea. She felt guilty at leaving the others but knew she was their only hope: she must find help! And then suddenly her mount stumbled and she was flying through the air, landing so hard that the wind was knocked out of her. She tumbled over and over before fetching up against a log.
The idiot steed had thrown her.
The horse got to its feet, saddle askew, and limped off with a snort and an accusing look, as if it was her fault.
Now the barbarians would catch her.
But then there was the sound of approaching hooves from ahead, many of them, and she stood shakily, as filthy as her would-be abductor. Dazed, she saw the dull glitter of armor and weapons through the leaves and slowly recognized the purposeful rhythm of Roman cavalry. Far more men, in fact, than Galba had left with, pounding hard to save her! She swayed with emotional exhaustion, relief and joy overtaking her. Two leading scouts pulled up and shouted their bizarre discovery of this bedraggled figure. Next came a trumpeter and standard-bearer, then the officers…
"Marcus!"
She ran down the track past the Roman scouts, all decorum forgotten, legs half bare, her cloak gone to reveal the shape of her shoulders, her stola torn and covered with mud, twigs the only decoration in her hair. In the saddle ahead was the tall praetor, resplendent in a mail lorica of golden leaf, a traditional crested helmet on his head and a red cape rippling behind, the very picture of Roman military bearing.
Lucius Marcus Flavius sawed on his reins in shock, his white mount skidding to a halt and his cavalry bunching behind him. "Valeria?"
"Brigands, Marcus! They might kill the others!"
"By Hades and Gethenna!" a familiar voice cursed. "I leave that young fool for a day-" Galba! Waving his arm, the senior tribune led a contingent of men around the couple at a charge back toward the cart.
Valeria tried to grasp Marcus, reaching for his leg, but before she could do so, he dismounted and unhooked his cape to cover the girl, acutely aware of the curiosity of his remaining horsemen. Her disarray was bewitching, the beauty of her body apparent. Then she was wrapped, the enclosure of the cape like a heated blanket, and Valeria sagged with relief. Savia will be scandalized, she thought, but I'm going to lift my face until he kisses me. Yet Marcus wouldn't comply with her wish. Instead, he held her by both shoulders.
"What are you doing alone?" By Jupiter and Mithras, he thought, his intended bride was as dirty as a pig girl and as lost as Ulysses. He was embarrassed.
"A barbarian tried to steal me!"
"A barbarian?" He still didn't comprehend what had happened.
"Bandits, Marcus! They made us prisoner but I stabbed his horse and rode off. Clodius tried to save us, but-"
"Who?"
"My escort! A new tribune!"
Marcus remembered the name from dispatches. "And where is this escort?"
She pointed. "Where Galba went!"
Finally he understood her urgency and remounted; then looked down in confusion. She lifted her arms. After hesitating a moment, he swung her up behind him, and her hands circled his waist, breasts pressed against the hard armor of his back. For the first time since leaving home she felt truly safe. Then they pounded back down the lane the way she'd come with thirty more men around, swords unsheathed, ready for an enemy. When they pulled up at the cart, Clodius was standing alone, unarmed and forlorn.
"Where are the bandits?"
"They fled into the forest."
"It was Valeria!" cried Savia, appearing from a hiding place behind the cart. "She unhorsed the thief!"
Marcus glanced over his shoulder, still not comprehending.
"I stabbed his horse with my brooch pin," Valeria explained again.
"They ran when they heard your horses," Clodius added gloomily. His clothes were filthy, his scabbard empty, his neck red. The blood from his wound had dried like a bib on his bright new chain mail, baptizing the armor with a reddish brown stain. "They took nothing but a few pinecones."
"Cones?"
"Stone pine, Marcus!" Valeria said. "For the ceremonies of Mithras. I was bringing them to you as a present, but the barbarian decided they would protect him-"
The praefectus shook his head. "Cones. By the gods."
"They must have slipped through as traders," a centurion suggested. "Or over the top at night. A bribed sentry, perhaps. It was a bold gamble."
"A gamble for what, Longinus?"
"Loot, I suppose."
"They wanted the lady Valeria," Clodius said.
"My escorts were willing to die before that happened," Valeria interjected. She didn't want the men punished. "Brave Clodius had his throat cut."
"Brave who?"
The junior tribune saluted in pained embarrassment. "One-Year Appointed Tribune Gnaeus Clodius Albinus, reporting for duty, praetor."
"By the horns of Mithras, it gets worse and worse."
Clodius bowed his head. "This is not how I imagined us meeting, praefectus."
"Nor did I. Well, welcome to Britannia, junior tribune. It appears you've had quite a reception."
Clodius stood stiffly. "Let me remount, and we'll see the reception!"
"So I'd hope. And your horse?"
He glanced around, immediately miserable again. "It ran away."
Someone laughed. A sharp glance from Marcus silenced it. Then the praefectus glanced again at the woman behind him. "Go to the cart and repair your clothing." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order. She slipped off the horse's rump and went to Savia, who'd retrieved Valeria's cloak and now bundled her in it.
"And for the sake of Mars, find something to bandage your throat, tribune," Marcus growled. "You're dripping like a gutter." Clodius retreated to comply.
There was noise, a crash of branches, and Galba and his troopers came bursting out, horses lathered, men cut from vine and twig, their leader furious and frustrated, glancing at Valeria with disbelief. He saluted. "No sign of them, praefectus."
"No sign?" Marcus looked at one of the mounts. Titus was sitting behind a trooper with a rope bound around his wrists, face turned away. "Who's that man there?"
"One of mine, ambushed. We found him unconscious and bound."
"And these brigands? Are they smoke that vanishes?"
"They're quick, and they know this wood, I think. Every trail and every hole." Galba looked at Valeria again. "My apologies, praefectus. I thought us almost home and had orders to collect those remounts. If I'd insisted your lady stay with me-"
"It was my decision to hurry, not Galba's," Valeria corrected. "Nor Clodius, nor Titus. I simply yearned to see you and insisted on the quickest way."
Marcus scowled. "Yet all of you were surprised. And if Galba hadn't met my exercise near the Wall and told me you were near, we might not have rescued you at all."
"Fortune played with us this day," the senior tribune observed grimly. "Ill and then good. If gods exist, then perhaps they're at war with each other."
"It was the one true God who saved us," Savia spoke up. "I was praying."
Marcus ignored this. "But why Valeria?"
"For ransom," Galba said. "A wealthy husband-to-be, a senator's daughter. I wouldn't have thought any man so bold or foolish, but this rogue must be both."
The praetor nodded glumly. It was no secret in the province that his family was rich. Every man credited it for Marcus's appointment to the Petriana. "Galba, how far did you hunt?"