"Well?"
"Set up a permanent camp out there, behind the walls on the top of the hill."
I stared at him. "That's it! Do it. Eventually, we'll extend the walls of the fort itself to cover the whole hilltop." I stopped and turned to look behind me at the fort, my eyes searching for I knew not what. "Now," I asked myself aloud, "Have I missed anything? Yes, the refurbishing." I turned back to Popilius. "Every mason, every carpenter, every craftsman we have will work full-time inside the fort until it is done. All labour to be supplied by the prisoners. Feed them adequately. Keep them healthy, strong enough to work hard and long, but kill any of them at the first sign of recalcitrance. They caused this carnage; they will rectify it."
"And afterwards?"
"After what?"
"When the work is done? What then?"
"Then they will work in the fields, replacing the men they killed."
"All of them?"
"As many as remain alive, yes."
"But where will we keep them, Caius?"
I shrugged. "Let them build their own prison camp on the hill behind the fort, in the space normally reserved for stables. They can build cages for themselves." I looked back down to the plain below. "Collect all the officers' bodies in one spot, Popilius. We will bury them in a single grave there, in the middle of the campus."
He coughed, clearing his throat. "Your father too, Commander?"
I looked at him. "No, Popilius. My father will be buried here in the fort, beside his own father and Publius Varrus."
"Aye, Imperator!" He saluted me with the formal title of Imperial Commander.
"Don't call me that, Popilius. It is a Roman title, foreign now, and we have no need of it here in Camulod. Now, can you think of anything else I have missed?"
He cleared his throat and answered, "Aye, yourself, Commander Merlyn. The fires are under control and nearly all out, and everything is in hand. I will set the rest in motion, and as our people come back, things will return more or less to normal, or as close as they can be. You still have to deal with those whoresons in your uncle's house. Your quarters are intact, untouched. You would feel better for a wash and a change of clothing."
I was staring again at the scene laid out below, watching the tiny figures of our soldiers moving in the field, counting the dead, identifying the fallen, searching for wounded. I nodded in agreement. "That is logical, Popilius, and probably true." My voice sounded dead and distant, ringing in my head. "I'll take you at your word. When they come looking for me, tell them where I am." I left him and made my way back to my quarters. On the way I met Ludo coming from the kitchens. He looked at me solicitously and asked me when I had last eaten. I shook my head and waved him away without an answer, my concentration now focused cm reaching my quarters without collapsing.
There was a soldier on guard outside my door, and I was grateful for his assistance as I stripped out of my filthy clothes and washed the grime of the battlefield away. By the time I had dried myself and changed into fresh clothes, Ludo had found me again, and had brought a huge bowl of meat and vegetable broth, "drinking temperature," he told me, and insisted on standing there while I drank it. It was delicious and invigorating and by the time I had finished it, I felt like a man again.
I thanked both of them for their trouble and went looking for Popilius. I found him in the centre of the main yard, supervising the clean-up crews. All the fires were thoroughly doused by now and there was little smoke left, although the entire fort stank like a charnel house. As I approached him, however, and before I could speak, a runner arrived looking for me, with word that Caspar and Memnon had come out to speak with me again. I had time only to learn from Popilius that there was still no sign of our cavalry returning, and that our death toll had now climbed above the seven-hundred mark. As I turned to leave Popilius, I noticed the ruins of the Council Hall for the first time. Nothing remained of it but the walls, and the sight of it triggered a thought. "Tiles, Popilius," I said.
"Commander?"
"Tiles, clay roofing tiles like the ones on the villa. Make sure we use them in future on all our roofs. No more thatch within the fort. Will you see to that?"
"Aye, Commander."
The two grotesques, Caspar and Memnon, were lounging in front of my uncle's doorway, awaiting my return. The sight of them stirred up the sour sickness in my belly again. They straightened up as I approached, looking me over from head to foot and I was glad I had washed and changed. The sneering smile was back on Caspar's face.
"Commander Britannicus. I am honoured that you should feel obliged to dress for us."
I cut him short immediately. "Shut your evil mouth for everything but our business," I snapped at him. "I have neither time nor patience to waste on you. You live or you die by the end of this conversation. There will be no further talk after that."
He smiled again at that, but his voice dropped low. "We will all live. Except, of course, our twelve unfortunate companions whom you have sworn to kill. Memnon and I have put our minds to work as you suggested, seeking a means of ensuring that our lives will not depend entirely on your personal goodwill. We believe we have a solution." He stopped talking, evidently waiting for some kind of response from me.
"Go on, I'm listening."
"Well, we have two problems. The first of these is caused by our companions, those same twelve men. We do not believe, Memnon and I, that they will trust us fully in disposing of their lives and welfare. Had they remained in ignorance of your aunt's importance in your eyes, our task would have been far simpler. You, however, brought her to their attention, so we can hardly be expected to persuade them to relinquish her to our particular care. They see salvation in her now."
"What's your second problem?"
"Ah, yes, the second problem. That concerns the release of your aunt and our unhindered departure from your lands. That one, we feel, can be resolved to everyone's satisfaction. The first is far more pressing."
"How many hostages do you hold?" The question had been burning in my mind for hours.
"Eleven, plus your aunt. Nine women, two men—all servants."
"Have they been harmed?'
He made a face, indicating a lack of both knowledge and concern. "The men have been subdued; the women, used. In war that happens."
I said nothing. I was unsurprised and unconcerned. I knew my aunt's serving women. They could survive the humiliation of mere carnal abuse. It would be unpleasant but none of them would die from it. I was thinking furiously about how to separate the twelve men from the others, and the more I thought about it, the more insoluble the problem appeared. It was unthinkable that these men would be foolish enough to separate themselves voluntarily from Aunt Luceiia, whose value was now known to them. I felt anger and frustration building up in me, arid cursed myself for not having seen the futility of trying to bargain my way out of this situation. There seemed to be no way out. I would have to release all of them, and still rely on Caspar and Memnon for Aunt Luceiia's safety. The realization sickened me. But then my frustrated silence gained me an unexpected reprieve. Caspar himself presented me with the only possible solution.
"How badly do you want these men of mine? Alive, I mean."
"Explain yourself," I answered, trying to school my face to show nothing even while my interest quickened. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said," he responded. "If you want them alive, you will never have them. Dead..." He wiggled his fingers fastidiously. "That might be., .achievable."
"How? My men could never get close enough to surprise them."
"No, but Memnon and I could."
"Twelve of them?" I heard the scorn in my own voice. "Twelve men who don't trust you in the first place?"
A small frown appeared briefly between Caspar's brows and he hastened to correct me. "When I said that, I meant simply that they would not trust us to deal with you for their lives. They are not depraved enough to think that we might kill them ourselves. These are simple men, Commander."