“A trickster?” Vicinius asked.
“To amuse people around a campfire. Someone who can make jokes and tie knots that come undone again.”
“This is all?” Vicinius still sounded skeptical.
“He was no demon, Vicinius,” said Hunter. “But Julius seems to think you have more pressing business than hunting today. Do you wish to return to your village?”
“No,” said Vicinius slowly. “Julius met me by chance. They will have sent any message that must reach my village by another messenger already. I will not let Julius ruin our hunt.”
“Even concerning Roman business?” Hunter asked, keeping his tone casual.
“Prince Arminius will tend to that,” said Vicinius. Then he glanced around again for the trail of MC 3.
Wayne dozed fitfully until he heard the sound of the door opening. Nervously, he jerked awake and found Ishihara returning with a very large, bulging backpack on his back and two sealed containers in his hands. Wayne pushed himself up on the couch and took a couple of deep breaths.
“I have what you wish,” said Ishihara, setting the containers down on the couch next to him. “This is your meal. But I have been thinking about the extent of my cooperation with you and the fact that Hunter’s instructions and yours are in contradiction.” He slipped off the backpack and carefully placed it on the floor by the couch.
“Yeah? What of it?” Wayne picked up one of the containers and started to open it.
“I am no longer accepting Hunter’s argument without question, but I cannot accept yours fully, either.”
Wayne tensed, watching him carefully. “Then where do you stand?”
“I shall offer a compromise.”
“All right, what is it?”
“You will take me with you.”
“What?” Wayne was shocked. This was one possibility he had not considered.
“You have raised reasonable doubts about Hunter’s arguments concerning you, but I am not entirely convinced that your judgment is sound. In return for my aiding your journey, you will take me with you into the past so that I can see the situation for myself.”
Wayne tried to think of an objection, but none came to him. Maybe he was just too tired. Then again, maybe no reasonable objection existed.
“All right,” Wayne said slowly. “With a couple of concessions on your part. I instruct you to cooperate with me and not to contact Hunter for any reason unless I specifically order you to. As I understand it, your concern is about the First Law challenge of changing history, either by Hunter or me.”
“Or MC 3.”
“Yeah. Him, too. But if Hunter’s instructions carry no First Law weight with you, then the Second Law requires that you obey me, instead. Tell me if you accept this.”
“At present, yes.”
“What will change it?”
“If, upon observation in the past, I come to believe you are making changes in the course of history, then the First Law will override your instructions, of course.”
“Of course.” Wayne sighed. “All right. I need more sleep before we go. I’ll set up the hypnosis courses in Latin and ancient German to run while I take a real nap. While I’m doing that, you access the same language information and arrange clothes for yourself-what did you bring me, anyway?”
“Long woolen tunics and cloaks of the same sort Hunter used. Also leather boots and leggings. The lapel pin communicator I mentioned.”
“Good. Come to think of it, Ishihara…”
“Yes?”
“While you’re accessing data, pick up a number of other major languages-all you can manage efficiently in your memory. We may want some others in the future.”
“Agreed.”
“And leave that sphere and the console shut off while I’m sleeping.” He turned his attention to the food containers again. “What did you bring me? I’m starved.”
By midday, Marcus had reached the bank of the river with his guest and her slave. He had explained to her that a man wandering lost in the forest would seek water. Jane had agreed and so they had ridden to the river. Damp from the light but steady downpour from the gray skies, they had huddled under some trees for a cold noonday meal before riding on.
While they moved down the river, the Roman legions were marching deeper into the forest on the governor’s business. Marcus knew their route and roughly how far the legions would go in one day through the rugged mountains. Late in the day, he planned to locate their camp in order to rejoin them.
Marcus led Jane and her slave downstream, keeping a close lookout for footprints near the water. He also kept sneaking glances at Jane, whom he found extremely attractive, though the hood of her cloak hid her face unless she turned to look directly at him. If he could find her lost friend, she might be grateful; at the very least, it would make a good impression on her. He had never known a woman from Gaul, however, and conversation with her was difficult. She was polite, but reluctant to answer questions about her life in Gaul.
In the middle of the afternoon, Marcus reined in by the bank. “I have a number of footprints here,” he said, pointing to the ground. “One set is quite large. Another is very small and barefoot, and two more are of average size. One is wearing the leather boots of a German warrior.” The edges of the tracks had been blunted and blurred by the rain, but the outlines were still complete.
Jane rode up to look. Then she looked back over her shoulder at her slave. “What do you think?”
Her slave rode up to join them and examined the footprints. Then he pointed to the trail the tracks made back into the forest. “I think the small ones are MC 3, all right.”
“So some people are with him,” said Marcus. “At least one German is among them.”
“Or he’s being followed,” said Jane, looking pointedly at Steve.
Marcus did not understand the meaning of that look.
“Or it’s a coincidence,” said Steve. “Maybe they all just wanted some water.”
“In any case, we have his trail,” said Marcus. “We can follow him from here.”
“Good,” said Jane. “How old do you think the tracks are?”
“No older than yesterday,” said Marcus. “Otherwise the rain would have washed them out completely by now.”
She glanced at her slave again, who nodded agreement.
“The horses need a rest and a drink of water. We’ll rest here before we leave the river.” Marcus dismounted and dropped his reins to the ground. His mount moved to the river and began to drink
“All right.” Jane brought her mount to a jerky halt. “I could use another break.”
“May I?” Marcus moved to her side and held out his arms.
“Yes, thank you.”
As she dismounted, he caught her gently and eased her to the ground, as he done on their earlier stops.
“We have company,” said her slave, remaining on horseback. He nodded toward the forest.
Marcus turned to look. A party of young German warriors was emerging from the trees, led by a young blond man with a barrel chest and short arms and legs, wearing the usual furs of his people. Marcus realized suddenly that he had not been paying adequate attention to the birds in the forest; they would have revealed the presence of people moving toward the river from another direction. Anxiously, he watched the Germans approach.
The strangers were merely walking toward them, neither running nor fanning out to trap them against the river. Still, as a precaution, he offered a leg up to Jane again, who mounted without a word. Then he took the reins of his own horse again and mounted.
“Hail, Roman,” called the leader of the Germans in Latin. He stopped, holding up his free hand, and his companions stopped also.
“Hail, friend,” said Marcus. “I am called Julius in your language. We are of the Cherusci tribe. Who are you?”
“I am Tribune Marcus Gaius Aemilianus.”
“You are a long way from the Roman legions here, Tribune,” said Julius.
“Yes, we are,” said Marcus. “Are you out on a hunt today? How has your luck run so far?”
“We are not hunting so hard today,” said Julius, with a crooked smile. “We have been visiting with friends in other villages. Maybe tomorrow we shall go hunting in earnest. But how about yourself? This is a poor, wet day to go for a ride along the river with a lady.”