The sun came out as they were eating and drinking, and this seemed to make the mourners merry. Ferox stayed as long as courtesy and respect to the departed required, but let himself gradually drift away to the edge of the crowd. No one noticed as he strode away up the slope to the parade ground. He wanted open space and quiet, and the prospect to the west was a good one.
There were a few cavalrymen exercising horses at the far end, beyond the rostra from which the officer commanding could address a parade. Otherwise it was empty, and he went to the far side and looked to the west. The clouds had closed in again and he looked in vain for a break in the hope of glimpsing the setting sun. He was surprised at how moved he was by the centurion’s death, for he had not known the man at all well.
After a while he heard voices behind him, but the wind was strong, driving into him, and he could not pick out any words. He pulled his cloak tighter and did not turn, making it clear that he was not looking for company. There were steps in the grass and the sound of horses, but he ignored them.
‘I like this view.’ Sulpicia Lepidina stood beside him. ‘It seems to stretch on and on, the hills rolling into the distance.’
‘My lady.’ He took off his helmet as he faced her, and the wind ruffled his dark hair. ‘I am sorry, I did not know that it was you.’
There were a couple of male slaves with her, as well as her maid, the girl looking cold and miserable in spite of a heavy tartan cloak. There was also Longinus, the one-eyed veteran, and another soldier leading a couple of horses. On one sat a boy, his hair flame red and his face so like Cerialis’ that it was obviously his son. Ferox guessed that he was about six, but tall for his age. The boy sat awkwardly, hunched forward and legs dangling low, shifting back and forth. Then he remembered that the lad had been born with a crooked back, the deformity slight, but obvious as soon as he remembered.
‘His father insists that Flavius rides every day. I do wonder whether he is still a bit young, but the prefect insists that if he learns now he will sit more naturally.’
‘The Lord Cerialis is right,’ Ferox said. ‘I was younger than he is when my grandfather first sat me on a pony. I confess that I was terrified.’
She smiled, the warm smile that lit up her face, even when the wind blew hard and her skin was cold and pale. ‘I find it hard to imagine anything terrifying you, centurion. Your grandfather sounds quite a character. Tell me about him?’
Ferox was surprised at how readily he answered, talking about the Lord of the Hills and his own youth among his people. She listened, asking question after question with no hint of disdain at any of his answers, and when she mocked it was gentle. In the meantime the cavalrymen began to take the boy through some basic riding exercises.
‘None of my family have served in Britannia,’ she said after a while. ‘Indeed I am the first to invade!’
‘And the only one we could never resist, lady.’
The boy was cantering in a circle, and in spite of his back he was shaping up well, better balanced now if still ungainly to the eye.
‘I do not understand why,’ she said, ‘but he wears out shoes faster than any child I have ever known.’ Her tone was fond. ‘His father drives him, wanting him to grow up as a true aristocrat, and the boy is eager to please. Sometimes I wish—’ She stopped, and turned back to look over the hills.
‘Do you like Vindolanda?’ he asked, as much for something to say because she seemed uncomfortable. Then he realised that he had forgotten to address her properly. ‘I do not mean to pry, my lady. Please forgive me.’
She looked up at him, wisps of her golden hair blowing loose across her face. ‘Forgive you?’ She smiled, trying to push the strands out of her eyes and failing. She had on the same drab cloak she had worn to visit the temple. Her eyes looked very blue as she stared at him in silence for what seemed like an age.
‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘there are many ways of answering that. The house is adequate, the household learning my ways – those who did not come with us in the first place. Claudia Severa is a dear thing, her husband a decent man, and there are others whose society is not unpleasant. It is something of a bore to have everyone looking up to me, but I do not suppose there is another woman of my rank closer than Eboracum. Would it shock you to hear that I do not miss the company of my own class?’
Ferox was not sure how to respond. He wondered whether there was opportunity for a compliment, but could not think of one.
‘I do not believe that anything you could say would shock me, my lady,’ he said in the end, feeling that honesty was the simplest response.
‘Really. Then it seems I have grown dull in a very short time.’
‘M-my lady,’ he stammered. ‘I did not mean… That is I did not imply…’
‘For such a bold warrior you tease very easily!’ Sulpicia Lepidina laughed softly. They were standing close together, and after a glance to see that the troopers and her stepson were some way away, she took his hand. ‘This time you must forgive me for being cruel. You are a soldier under discipline, and not free to act or say what you wish to me.’
‘Duty and discipline, my lady.’ He thought that he ought to pull his hand free, but did not and instead pressed hers. ‘There is little left for me in this life.’
‘The soldier’s life,’ she said sadly. ‘That of the noblewoman is not so different. We marry as we have to, live as we have to, and try to avoid disgrace. Duty and discipline in another guise, its hold on us just as tight.’ The lady slid her hand away back under the cover of her cloak.
She turned away, looking out across the hills. ‘I like it here. Duty commands me to come and assist my husband. Discipline makes me run the house well and try my best to raise his children – our children, I should say. I serve my husband and my own family as best I can. It is not perhaps what I expected. Children have such dreams. When your grandfather put you on that pony did you ever think that your path would lead you here?’
‘No. It is hard to remember what I expected from life, but this was not it.’
‘Loss is a terrible thing, and yet the gods seem to have placed it at the heart of our lives. Little turns out as you expect. Loss of dreams and loss of hope are almost as sad as the loss of people. I liked Titus Annius, even if I do not think he had much time for me or even for my husband.’
‘He was a good man,’ Ferox said, and hoped that did not imply an insult to her or the prefect.
‘Duty and discipline.’ She looked up at him again. ‘It is not all bad. At least it has brought me to places that I might only have read about. Life at home can be very dull. To return to the question you have no doubt forgotten. Yes, I like Vindolanda. I like it because it is near the edge of the world. That does not release me from duty and discipline, but at least now and then I can glimpse freedom.
‘I had better go. Flavius tries very hard and I do not believe his father gives him sufficient praise, so I try to make up for that.’
Sulpicia Lepidina walked away, and Ferox forced himself to stare at the hills and not watch her go.
XIV
THREE HOURS LATER he passed a couple of drunken Tungrians staggering happily out of Flora’s place.
‘Only us today, centurion,’ one of them said, grinning to show broken and yellowed teeth. ‘You’ll have to wait. Unless you want to take that old bitch herself!’ The man found his own wit hysterically funny and doubled up with laughter.