The Sacrifice Stone (15 page)

Theo said, ‘Mum!’, all the anguish racing through him coming out in the one word.

‘
Go!
’ she said. She hugged him quickly, fiercely, then pushed us away.

Grabbing his arm, I ran for the horses.

*

He was all but impossible to deal with over the following days. On the long journey home he’d been too shocked, too upset to do anything but sit dejectedly as his horse paced the miles away. But it was a different matter once we were back.

I was insensitive enough to think he’d be relieved to get back into safety. And I was daft enough to say so.

‘No need to sit and tremble, Theo!’ I said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘You’re in no danger here.’

He looked at me as if he hated me. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done!’ he hissed.

‘What? I —’

‘You’ve made him angry!’ He got up from crouching in the corner and came right up to me, his pale face upturned and his eyes boring into me just as his mother’s had done. ‘You shouldn’t have made him look small, he’s at his most dangerous when he’s been bettered!’

‘But he can’t get at you here, I told you, there’s absolutely no possibility that he’ll find you!’

‘It’s not me!’ he shouted. ‘It’s
her
!’

Of course it was. I should have seen it. Seen his deep anxiety, anyway, for I wasn’t convinced that she was actually in danger. Wouldn’t she be able to talk her way out of it? Gods, she’d probably hit herself in the face and tell him I’d slugged her, too.

‘She’ll be all right,’ I said urgently. He
had
to believe it, or the next thing I’d know, he’d be racing off to save her and we’d be right back where we started, only with Gaius a hundred times more aggrieved. ‘Theo, she’s no fool, your mother, and she’ll convince him she had no choice but to let you go with me. Honestly!’ He was beginning to look doubtful, which was a start. ‘And you said yourself he was always nice to her — won’t that mean he’ll be halfway to believing her, anyway?’

He seemed to see the sense of that. ‘Yes, but —’

‘And why should he imagine she’d connive at letting you go with me, when she so clearly missed you and wanted you back?’

Even as I asked him, I was asking myself: the only answer, which came almost instantly, was that she knew quite well that Gaius was a worse threat to Theo than I was.

*

He settled down again, superficially at least, and, having blown my attempt at getting him back with his mother, I began to think again about visiting my farmer friend with a view to finding Theo a permanent home with him. But only half-heartedly — the trouble was, I felt protective towards him, and I doubted if I’d have much peace unless I knew he was safe; I was sufficiently arrogant to think he’d only
be
safe under my roof. As well as the fat merchant, after Theo’s blood with a century of outraged Arelate officials trailing behind him, my flights of fancy were now haunted by a furious Gaius out for retribution and armed with a leather belt.

A week or so after our return, I was sitting up late over a jug of wine. Unable to sleep, I’d settled myself down on the balcony overlooking the slope behind the house; I’d thought the small night sounds and the vast peace of the darkness might soothe me.

The magic was just beginning to work when a noise from below made me jump. And it wasn’t any little foraging rodent, unless the verdant hillside had bred one over five foot tall.

I peered down at the shadowy figure trying to conceal itself behind a pillar.

‘Who goes there?’ I said sharply. ‘Come out and show yourself. I warn you, I’m armed.’

I can be armed as soon as I’ve gone across to my room and found my sword would have been more accurate, but he wasn’t to know.

The figure hadn’t moved.

‘Come on, I’m losing my patience,’ I said angrily. Who did he think he was, lurking around under my balcony?

But it wasn’t a he, it was a woman. As she moved into the light and I saw the veil fallen back from her hair, I recognized Theo’s mother.

I said feebly, ‘You’d better come up. Round to your right, up the steps and in through the gates.’

I went into the courtyard and opened the gates to let her in. Without a word, I led her back out on to the balcony: in the soft light of the oil lamps, I stared at her. She looked quite composed.

First things first: I said, ‘How did you find me?’

‘I went to the financial secretary’s office and asked for you. I said I had a personal matter to discuss with you, and they were most helpful.’

Bastards. I could imagine the tittering and the gossip after she’d gone. Perhaps even before she’d gone.

Then, pushing out the irritation, a chilling thought struck me: if she’d found me, so could Gaius.

‘He wasn’t with you? Gaius?’

She looked scornful. ‘Don’t be absurd. And, if you’re wondering if he could have gone to your office independently, there wouldn’t have been any point since he didn’t know your name. Theo told me before he returned, if you remember, and I certainly didn’t pass the information on to him.’

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I muttered.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

Gods, she was a formidable woman, this — what had he called her? Zillah, that was it. A gipsy name, I recalled, meaning wanderer.

‘Sit down,’ I said, remembering my manners. She sank gracefully on to a bench, smoothing her long skirt. Her veil, I noticed, was demurely back in place. ‘Now, what is this personal matter?’

She paused. I thought she was considering her words, but another possibility occurred to me. Afterwards.

‘Gaius has made some foul accusations about you,’ she said bluntly. ‘He points out that certain Roman officials decorate their luxury villas’ — she looked around her disdainfully — ‘with young boys. In short,’ — her eyes swivelled to mine — ‘I want to know what is your relationship with my son.’

I met her stare with equanimity. I was innocent of the charge, and she knew it. I wasn’t even going to defend myself: if she really believed that of me, then she wasn’t the woman I’d taken her for and I was prepared to let her go on thinking it.

After what seemed a very long time, her eyes dropped and she muttered, ‘I’m sorry.’

I said slowly, speech coming reluctantly, ‘I am extremely fond of your son. There’s something about him — I should by rights have turned him in when he was first dragged into my office, but I knew it wouldn’t be any sort of justice if I did. I liked him, straight away. And I knew that, whatever he’d done, there was an explanation — even if it wasn’t much of a one, he didn’t deserve the sort of punishment that would have been imposed on him.’

I was looking at her but seemed to see right through her. To scenes and events that, although they’d happened long ago, still had a fresh charm and a delight that made my heart sore.

I heard my own voice, although I wasn’t aware of producing the words. ‘I had a son, very like your Theo. He died. I ... when I saw ...’

I couldn’t explain. Couldn’t go on speaking.

I felt her arms go round me, and she was hugging me like she’d hugged Theo. She smelt sweet, and her soft hair brushed my face. There was a deep comfort in her embrace, as if she were the eternal mother comforting one of her children in his sorrow.

She held me close until, beginning to feel awkward, I straightened up and gently disengaged myself. Then, as if she’d thought nothing of it, calmly she went back to her bench.

We sat facing each other. I didn’t know what to say — truly, I was so full of mixed emotions I really didn’t — and she seemed to be quite content to sit in serene silence.

Then she said, ‘I didn’t believe you were anything but honourable in your behaviour towards Theo. Gaius is a dirty-minded man, and bound to be suspicious.’

She paused. For the first time, she looked discomfited. Only slightly, but it was there.

Then: ‘You have saved Theo twice now, and I could say that I found you in order to thank you.’ She was looking down at her hands folded in her lap, but her eyes rose to meet mine. ‘That would be true, but it would be misleading.’ I heard her draw in her breath. ‘I came because I wanted to see you again.’

Put it down to the fact that I’ve had far more dealings with men than with women. Despite having had a wife and quite a lot of other women of various stations in life, I’ve hardly scratched the surface of woman’s unfathomability: I was probably being very dense, but I hadn’t had an inkling.

I sat staring at her, my mind racing, teeming with yet another emotion, this one brand-new.

She was so straightforward, bless her. She’d sat there and told me, just like that, and I knew it was the truth — she had the same shining honesty I saw in her son.

It was time for some honesty of my own. Even if I couldn’t say it aloud to her, I could admit it to myself: ever since I’d seen her walking so dejectedly down that track behind her house, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

PART THREE

ARLES

AD 175

15

She told me a great deal, that first night. Mainly about Theo, for he was her prime concern; she looked different when she spoke of him, the lines of care on her face blurring and disappearing. I wasn’t particularly interested in the minute details of what he’d been like at six months, but listened because I was so enjoying looking at her.

She told me too about life down there in the salt plains. I already knew her late husband had been a fisherman and that they’d lived at the Saints’ Village — Theo told me — but I learned from her that he’d had as deep a love for the land as for the temperamental, dangerous vagaries of Neptune’s kingdom. They were a law to themselves, the people of the delta, as anyone the least bit involved in trying to administer them will tell you — in my official capacity, I had inherited numerous headaches to do with unpaid taxes and land ownership, and the impossible task of calculating land yield so as to extract the appropriate dues would have made even Jupiter’s hair curl.

Typical of the delta people, both she and her husband, she told me, had come from nomad families. Although many were permanent settlers, there also seemed to be a shifting population who came home at specific times such as the calving of the cows and the branding of the young cattle, disappearing for the rest of the year and returning with traveller’s tales to tell round the fireside. And what tales — even in those few hours, she gave me a tantalizing glimpse of a world where strange and unpredictable Eastern deities appeared to grant wishes to the fortunate, where hooded crones crept from the forest to grasp at handsome young men, only to turn magically into beautiful young women when the men did as they were ordered. Where each year’s festivals rang with rhythmic songs while the people danced themselves to frenzy round the great fires, where the very animals that were so fundamental a part of delta life were exalted almost to god status.

No wonder we found it difficult to understand them.

Finally she ran out of words. Watching her stifling a yawn, I asked if she would like to sleep. When, after a quick look at me, she nodded, I showed her to the room next to Theo’s. Then, walking with deliberately loud footsteps, I retired to my own side of the courtyard.

I had omitted to ask if she wanted Theo to know of her visit, so in the morning I sent him off on an errand before rousing her.

‘No! He mustn’t know I’m here!’ She shot up, pulling the linen sheet around her as if she was about to race away before she’d even dressed.

‘It’s all right, he’s gone down to the village for fresh bread. Stay quietly in here, and when he and I have eaten, I’ll send him out to exercise my horse.’

She looked at me gratefully. I didn’t ask her why she didn’t want him to see her, and she didn’t tell me.

After breakfast, the house once more silent — it wasn’t one of Callistus’s mornings, he was coming in later to cook supper — I went back to her room. I could see she’d been crying; I guessed it was because she’d heard him talking and laughing, and hadn’t been able to join in.

‘Are you ready?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

Tight-faced, she stood up. Despite her apparent lack of any personal effects, she’d managed to dress her hair and arrange her veil perfectly. Her robe looked fresh and clean. She was, I thought as I stared at her, a woman any man would be proud to be seen with.

‘I’ll take you back,’ I said. ‘I know a quicker way than the road.’

She seemed about to protest, but then gave in and meekly set off beside me.

We hardly spoke on the journey. It was a beautiful morning, the sun not yet so hot as to make walking uncomfortable, and my short cut went down a little-used track that wound along by a stream, shaded by young trees.

When in the early afternoon we found ourselves on the southern outskirts of Arelate, she stopped.

This is as far as you may go,’ she said decisively.

People didn’t often tell me where I could and could not go. ‘Why can’t I take you all the way?’

She sighed. ‘Sergius, use your head! The last time you were in my house, you slugged Gaius and made him look inadequate in front of me and my son.’

‘I can lay him out again!’ I wasn’t at all sure I could — he’d be prepared, this time.

She smiled, as if she shared my doubts. ‘Perhaps,’ she said charitably. ‘But I don’t want to risk it.’

My mind was full of questions: will you be all right? Have you thought out a watertight excuse for your absence? What if he turns nasty? And — most urgently — when will you come back?

She was looking at me, eyes fixed to mine, and I felt she was aware of all that I was thinking. Moving to stand right in front of me, she stood on tiptoe and briefly kissed me on the lips. ‘I wish I could say, give my love to Theo,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll take care of him.’ My voice wasn’t as firm as it should have been. ‘I promise you, I won’t let you down.’

Turning to go, she flashed me a smile over her shoulder. She said, ‘I know.’ Then hurried away.

*

Back home on my terrace, Theo cross-legged on the floor beside me trying to whittle a piece of wood into a bull and jabbering away about every single thing he’d done since he woke up, I let my attention wander. I could still see her if I closed my eyes, sitting on the bench opposite, small feet crossed, gown gracefully arranged so as to hide anything above the ankle. Lovely ankles, I mused. Slim and shapely. And you could make out the bones in those dainty feet.

I arrested my thoughts.

I’d been more than willing to go on with her to that run-down cabin and face the inevitable showdown with Gaius. In fact, I’d been positively champing at the bit, only deterred by her absolute determination that I shouldn’t. Now that I’d had the long trudge home to think about it, I knew why.

She’d implied that, with Theo out of the way and any threat to him thus removed, life with Gaius would be tolerable. Although I wanted to protest that surely a woman such as her should aspire to a life — a partnership — that was better than tolerable, I had let it go. I’d wondered if her remarks about the removal of the threat to Theo meant she’d been more aware than Theo had thought of how things stood, but her obvious remorse and guilt seemed brand-new, as if she’d just discovered the evil that had been lurking under her roof and was only at the start of her penance.

And, I said to her silently, I didn’t tell you the half of it.

But there was another, more pressing reason for her decision. If I’d gone with her and by some miracle got the better of the pugnacious and highly motivated Gaius — which did indeed seem unlikely — what then? If I’d been so obviously her champion, there would no longer be any question of her pretending I was her enemy as well as his. No question, afterwards, of her patching up his cuts and bruises — assuming I’d managed to inflict any — and calmly settling down to everyday life again.

If we’d had that showdown, the die would have been cast. She’d have to have come away with me, and I guessed she wasn’t ready for that.

Gods, neither was I!

‘You’re not listening, Sergius!’ Theo said peevishly. ‘I just said I was thinking of stealing your horse and going to live with the wild bulls and you said, “Yes, that will be fine!” ’

‘Sorry.’ I made myself smile at him. ‘Are you hungry? Shall we eat?’

‘Yes please.’

It had been a silly question — he was always hungry. I went into the kitchen to discover that Callistus had left our supper simmering over the hearth, and I poured myself a whole jug of wine to drink with it.

I would, I decided, rather be slightly drunk than go on thinking.

*

At first I told myself I was imagining it. I had reason enough to be paranoid, gods knew, with all the enemies I seemed to have been making recently, any one of whom could well have been stalking me with evil intent.

There was nothing tangible to begin with, just the sense that I was being watched. I’d think I heard a movement, a footstep, behind me, and when I turned, there would be nothing there. But the feeling would be so strong that I’d believe I saw the air still shimmering with the aftershocks of someone’s swift movement through it.

If someone was shadowing me, he was doing it skilfully. And that suggested that he was one of my own, that perhaps, back in Arelate, some aggrieved citizen had employed a professional assassin — some fit and mean-minded ex-legionary, for example — to spy on me, biding his time until the moment was right for whatever it was he’d been commissioned to do.

I didn’t have to search my memory very hard to come up with a possible identity for who that citizen might be.

But then I’d remind myself of all the compelling reasons why the fat merchant was far more likely to have dismissed the thought of revenge, and I’d have to think again. I did so much thinking that I made my head spin. Frustrated, I’d tell myself I was worrying about nothing, that Theo and I were perfectly safe and I was spoiling the happy present with my anxieties about a future that wasn’t going to happen.

I couldn’t convince myself. I remained worried, partly about my own safety.

But, increasingly, much more about Theo’s.

I tried to keep a closer watch on him, which wasn’t easy. He was used to his freedom, and resented my half-hearted suggestion that he might spend some time sitting with me out on the terrace while I did what I could to improve his education — he could read and write, after a fashion, but he was far from fluent. When, disguising my surprise, I’d asked who had taught him, he’d replied, ‘My father,’ clamping his mouth shut so that I was sure he didn’t want to elaborate. We reached a compromise: he would spend the mornings with me if in return I allowed him to go out on my horse all afternoon. I couldn’t help thinking he’d got the better of the bargain.

Amongst all this, I found little time to go into my office. I attended for the minimum hours to prove I was still alive and
compos
mentis
, and no one seemed bothered that I was absent more than I was present.

On the way home one day — I’d stayed late, for once occupied with a task that actually needed fairly urgent completion — I got back to the villa as darkness fell. I hadn’t been worried about Theo, since I’d arranged for Callistus to stay till I returned, and from the street outside I could hear cheerful voices from the kitchen.

I almost didn’t see him. Cloaked, leaning against one of the pillars that supported the terrace so that his silhouette was concealed, it was pure fluke that I happened to be looking right at him when he briefly raised his hand to muffle some soft sound — a cough, or a sneeze.

He hadn’t seen me; he had his back to me, looking down the street and not up it. Again, luck was with me — I’d called in to order some more wine and so was approaching the villa from the opposite direction I usually came from. Making use of the advantage, I slipped into the shadow of my neighbour’s wall and watched him.

He was good, I’ll give him that. He stood for what seemed like hours without one bit of him breaking out from behind the pillar, until I was quite sure he must have melted away when I blinked. I was about to give up and go home to my dinner when suddenly he stepped out from under my terrace and started walking briskly towards me.

He
must
see me, I couldn’t possibly hope he wouldn’t! I inched back, pressing myself against the wall, sliding along it searching for some better cover: abruptly I all but tripped over as an alcove opened up behind me and I fell into it.

I held my breath as he strode past. This was my chance to see just who it was who had been spying on me, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

Nearly bursting my lungs didn’t do me any good at all: he was cloaked and hooded, and could have been anyone from the Emperor to the old woman who cleans the public baths.

Disgruntled, I was about to emerge from my hiding place when two more figures came out of a side street and set off after him. These two were bare-headed, and I didn’t recognize either of them. They didn’t look like the sort of men I’d have chosen as friends, nor even distant acquaintances — strangely alike, they both had flat, vacant-looking faces, a singular lack of anything in the way of a neck, bodies like barrels set on short, thick legs and arms like battering rams.

If they were the hooded man’s heavies, I sent up a swift prayer that I’d always manage to slip into a handy hiding place whenever they passed by.

*

‘I thought we might go out together tomorrow,’ I said casually to Theo over dinner; the more time we spent away from prying eyes, the better. ‘Hire a second horse, take some food with us and ride up into the hills. Up to Glanum, perhaps.’ We could make a short detour so that I could show him the temple where I was a too-infrequent worshipper — I resolved there and then to do better, hoping the god wouldn’t be sad because I was only turning to him when I needed his help.

‘I’d like that,’ Theo said when he had emptied his mouth. ‘But not tomorrow, because I’m going fishing with Julius.’

Julius? ‘Who’s Julius?’

‘He lives next to the baker. His mother’s the baker’s sister — she sometimes gives me a honey cake.’

Theo, I realized, had been making friends. ‘Oh. All right then, we’ll go the day after.’

He grinned and went back to his stew.