Sometime later, still filled with that unutterable calm, I opened the door to Luceiia's family room and stopped short on the threshold, stunned by the sight of her in the lamplight and suddenly aware, from a completely new perspective, of another dimension to all I had lost through my illness. She was no different from when I had last seen her earlier that day, but now I remembered the beloved Luceiia Britannicus who had ridden with me to meet Cassandra just two years before, and this was a different person. Those two years had wrought enormous changes in my aunt. She had shrunk, and looked tiny and fragile. And yet the same lively wit and beauty sparkled from those great, indomitable blue eyes as she turned to look at me.
She recognized the change in me immediately.
"You remember!"
I nodded, mute, still standing in the doorway, and she moved to me quickly, drawing me into the room, her eyes already awash with tears.
"Thank God, Caius, thank God! What happened? How? Have you told Lucanus? Does anyone else know?"
I shook my head, still wordless, answering all her questions with one gesture, my throat completely choked by a great, swelling lump of grief and misery. And then the dam broke and I was riven by a violent, wrenching sob and gave way completely to the pain inside, allowing it to overwhelm me. I felt my aunt's arms go around my waist and I enfolded her in my own, feeling the smallness of her and the love and sadness that frailty brought me as I cradled her gently and allowed my tears to fall unchecked into her silver hair. When the paroxysm had subsided, she led me to a chair and pressed me down into it, then sat close to me and watched me until I had mastered myself again. She made no attempt to speak, waiting in wisdom for me to begin. I was in no hurry. I sat there, empty now, my eyes closed, and waited until I felt the resolute calmness I had previously felt reentering my body "and filling me to the point where I could speak again. Finally I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her own eyes were filled with love and concern.
"Auntie, when exactly did Cassandra...when was she killed?"
She gazed at me. "You have been there again? To the grave?"
I nodded. "That's where I remembered. When, Auntie?"
She shook her head, a troubled frown on her brow. "We don't know exactly, but it was soon after you left for Verulamium. She left here to return to your little valley ten days after your own departure. She was happy there, and lonely here. She was heavy with the child, of course, but she was healthy and blooming and still well short of her term, so I saw no reason to keep her here...not when her heart was so obviously there..." Her voice faded, then resumed. "I expected her to return within the week, but even when the week passed with no sign of her I was not concerned. The weather was clement, better than it had been all summer, and she had taken the little two-wheeled cart, so she was well stocked with provisions. It was only after ten days that I began to wonder, and so when Daffyd arrived that same day, I asked him to go and visit her, just to be sure."
"Daffyd? It was Daffyd who found her?"
My aunt nodded, miserably. "She had been dead for some time by then. More than a week, Daffyd thought. Poor Daffyd. He found her, and he cleaned her, and he buried her. Then he came back and told us."
I swallowed hard. "What about the baby?"
She looked me straight in the eyes and shook her head. "It was still inside her, if that's what you are asking. They died together, intact."
"Was she.. .Did he find her in the water?"
She nodded her head, her face drawn with concern. "Yes, yes he did. He told me at the time, but I had forgotten. The poor child was dead. Where he had found her made no difference to me. How did you know? Did Daffyd tell you?"
I shook my head, mute, recalling with horror how a human corpse could look after days of submersion in water. My dear aunt could have no idea of such atrocities. My next question was difficult, my voice almost defying me to make it utter the words. I had to draw a deep breath and hold it before asking, "Was Uther in Camulod then?"
She nodded. "Yes, he was. As a matter of fact, he had arrived on the morning of the day Cassandra left-" She bit off her words and looked at me in dismay. "Caius! Why did you ask me that?"
"Because I want to know, Auntie. When did he leave?"
Her eyes widening in horror, she shook her head in denial of what I was implying. "I...I...Caius, you can't be—"
"When did he leave, Auntie?"
"Within a few days. You know Uther. He comes and he goes, always riding somewhere."
"He was gone, then, before Daffyd came?"
"Yes, days before! But I can't allow you to think what you are thinking, Caius. It is unjust, infamous! You suspected Uther before, but you know it was Remus the priest who committed that crime."
"Remus is dead, Auntie, long since...and far from here, long before this crime was committed."
"No, Caius!" The anguish in her voice was as keen- edged as my own.
"No," I whispered, aware of how much I was hurting her. "Perhaps not. But I have to know, Auntie. I have to know!" Inside my heart, however, I did know. I spoke purely to soothe this woman I loved more than any other now alive. I drew another deep breath and changed the subject.
"Auntie, did anyone ever tell you about my brother Ambrose?"
Her expression changed to one of wonderment and she nodded. "Yes. Lucanus told me about him, although he knew few details. He said you were like twins. I would have sent for him, but I did not know where to look, or what to say to him." She shook her head in slow, tacit acknowledgement of how little any of us know of others. "Twins...Of course, that could not be. He must be older than you, sired before Picus met Enid. Theirs was a hurried courtship, and I cannot believe your father capable of infidelity so soon after his marriage to your mother."
Realizing only then that she knew nothing of the truth of what had happened, I told her the entire story as I had heard it originally from my father, and as I had reconstructed the later events for myself. She listened in silence and when I was finished she was smiling again, her concern over me and her grandson Uther forgotten for the moment.
"I must meet this Ambrose, and soon. I thought I only had one great-nephew."
I stood up. "You will, Auntie. I am sending Donuil tomorrow to bring him here. I must leave Camulod immediately, and I don't know when I will return."
She stared at me for the space of several heartbeats, her eyes wide with renewed alarm.
"You are leaving Camulod? But why, Cay, to what end? Where will you go?"
I shook my head, unwilling to lie to her but driven to prevaricate for her peace of mind. "I don't know, Auntie. Wherever my path leads me. But I must go. I cannot remain here. I need...time...Time to be alone with myself and to untwist my mind. I have lost years. I knew that yesterday, but today I see the import of what I have lost."
She gazed at me without speaking as I continued. "My new-found brother Ambrose—if he will come, and I believe he will—should be here in my place. Camulod is as much his home as it is mine. I know you'll teach him all he has to know. And he's a warrior. Vortigern the King holds him in high regard and his own men of Lindum are proud to soldier with him. He is strong and bold, and the reports I have heard of him hold him to be just and fair-minded, clever and responsible. He will replace me more than adequately, I am sure, and Camulod has need of him, stranger though he may be at first. Titus and Flavius are too old to govern by themselves now, but aided by you and Lucanus, they can train Ambrose to take his rightful place here and await my return."