"See the mounts? It must be Clodius."
"This is a pagan place," Savia murmured. "An evil place."
"Nonsense. Can't you sense the water god?"
"No, these gods are dead, killed by the Christ, and demons have taken their place. We shouldn't be here, Valeria."
"And we won't be if you hush and let me deliver our message!"
The temple was a simple square building with domed roof, a porch, and pillars before its door. Valeria called with a loud whisper. "Clodius!"
No answer, so they knocked. "Clodius, are you in there? Open up! Soldiers are coming!"
Again, no answer.
And then… "By the gods, it's you!"
They whirled. The young Roman had crept behind them, his spatha unsheathed, his cloak bunched around his left arm as makeshift shield.
"Clodius!"
"Valeria?" He looked at her in bewilderment.
She ran and pecked him on one cheek, then danced back. "I found you!"
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night? I almost attacked you! I thought I heard the murmuring of men, not women."
"We came to warn you. Galba Brassidias claims to have found a murder weapon and intends to arrest you for the murder of the slave Odo. His men are approaching."
"What? Are you certain?"
"Ride to Eburacum and demand true justice from the duke."
The youth lowered his sword. "What evidence? Falco said the matter was settled."
"A bracelet from Odo in your room. A knife from Falco's own dining table. Maybe some other things."
The tribune scoffed. "Put there by Galba Brassidias, I'll wager. He's wanted me gone from the beginning."
"So make him go. Get the duke to transfer him to Germania."
"I'd need Marcus to support me."
"He will! You're both of the same class."
Clodius listened to the distant rumble. "You rode out here by yourselves?"
"The slave Clio whispered the secret to brave Savia here. When she told me Galba's plot, I knew what we must do."
Savia gave a tremulous smile, trying to live up to this new reputation for courage.
The junior tribune turned and spoke into the dark. "Sardis! We must flee!" Another man, a narrow-faced Celt, emerged like a wraith. "This is one of our informants," Clodius explained. "Barbarian raiders are about. It's not safe out here. You two better come to Eburacum with us."
"No, Savia and I will just slow you down. Go while we mislead Galba. He can take us back to the fort."
"She's right, tribune," Sardis said. "Better to flee alone if we're to…" Suddenly the man jerked, cut off in midsentence, and then lurched sideways as if drunk. Valeria strained to see in the moonlight. Something was protruding from the front of his throat. The man gave a curious gurgle.
It was the point of an arrow. Savia screamed.
"It's Galba!" Clodius spat. "Quick, inside the temple!"
As they moved, a staff snaked out from the underbrush. The young tribune tripped, sprawling, and silent men sprang. One stamped on his hand, and the spatha came free. More men blocked the door of the temple, and still more came from behind. They were bearded, their skin blackened, their swords unnaturally long. The women whirled in shock and confusion. These weren't Romans! Even as Valeria realized that the man holding Clodius down was the one called Luca, the barbarian who'd cut him in the forest, strong arms snaked around her from behind. She heard a familiar voice in her ear, speaking Latin again. "This time we'll ride together, lady."
It was the man who'd tried to abduct her before! She twisted, trying to kick backward, and he squeezed and laughed. "I'll keep your hands from your brooch this time. You'll not prick my horse again."
Other barbarians had seized Savia and were gagging her squeals. The approaching horses were drawing nearer.
"Who's coming?" one of the men demanded of Valeria.
Her captor turned his mouth to her ear. "Did you bring an escort, lady? Speak honestly and quick, before Luca cuts your Roman friend."
The barbarian once more held a knife to Clodius's throat.
"It's Galba Brassidias," she said, "come to arrest Clodius."
The Celts cursed.
"I thought you said the Thracian wouldn't come here," Luca complained to his leader in Celtic. Valeria's tutoring in the language from her servants let her eavesdrop.
"Galba?" the chieftain repeated skeptically. He chose Latin again. "I think you're mistaken, lady, which means you're either fool or liar. It's somebody else, looking for you in the dark."
She squirmed, trying to get enough freedom to bite or scratch. "My husband is commander of the Petriana!"
"And a hundred miles away."
How did the barbarian know that?
"Let's move, Arden," a man urged in Celtic again. "We've got what we came for."
"I want their horses, too."
"Gurn is already fetching them," a female voice said from the dark.
"What about this one?" Luca asked. He was sitting on Clodius, holding his head to the ground by his hair.
"I'll not kill a man when he's already down. Clout and leave him."
The man struck Clodius on the head with the hilt of the dagger, making him slump, and then kicked him, hard, to make sure he was out. The Roman didn't move.
Then their leader swept Valeria up as if she were no heavier than a cloak, flipped her upside down over his shoulder, and began leading the pack deeper into the trees at a quick trot. He jumped. "The vixen is scratching me!"
His men laughed quietly.
A boy appeared with the Roman horses, even as they could hear new Romans cantering into the clearing.
Valeria screamed. "Help! We're being stolen!" The sound of pursuit swerved at her cry.
"Plug her noise," Arden said with exasperation, and someone ripped her hem for a gag. But even as he moved to fasten it, there was a crashing ahead, and another shout. "Over here!" a Roman called. "Barbarians!"
It was Clodius, risen from the ground and circling around to save them!
"I thought you knocked him out," the leader called Arden muttered.
"He must have a head like a helmet."
"I'll silence the bastard," another Celt said, notching an arrow. Yet even as he did so, a Roman javelin sailed out of the dark and struck the archer squarely in the chest, knocking him backward. His arrow flew harmlessly up into the moonlit branches, rattling as it passed, and the archer fell on his back, impaled, the shaft erect as a standard.
"You Britlets won't get away again!" Clodius was charging, sword up, head bloody, vengeance in his eye. It was as magnificent as it was foolhardy, and so unexpected that he was almost on top of the barbarian leader before the Celt could react. Arden was forced to drop Valeria like a sack of wheat, stunning her, and desperately claw for his weapon. Clodius would run him through! Yet honor made the tribune pull up short of a kill. "Draw and die, brigand!"
Surprised at this reprieve, the chieftain did so. Then a clash of steel, sparks bright as the blades slithered across each other. Even as rough barbarian hands reached to gag Valeria, she could hear the shouts of other Romans dismounting and plunging into the trees. Their leader didn't sound like Galba at all. It was Rufus, the soldier at the gate.
"Clodius!" Valeria gasped. "Wait for help!" Then the gag caught her mouth.
His sword rang. "I'll not fail you this time!"
The Celt crouched low, sidling to one side in the manner of an arena swordsman. There was skill here, the Romans could see. Clodius darted forward but was parried, the long swords repelling the combatants from each other, their song sharp in the night. And then again, and again, the clash of metal.