The Dark Lord

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The Via Campana, Just West of Rome

Golden light slanted through a stand of willows surrounding the way station. Gaius Julius, carefully dressed as a patrician on holiday, tipped back his wide-brimmed straw hat and squinted with interest against the glow of late afternoon. Two men were riding hard towards him along the horse path paralleling the highway, cloaks billowing behind them, faces half-masked by scarves. Despite the dust and grime of travel, he recognized them immediately.

"Ho!" he shouted, stepping out of the shady trellis in front of the cistern. His guardsmen stood up as well, a round-dozen men in bulky tunics and ill-disguised weapons. "Master Nicholas! Hie too, my friends."

The two horsemen reined in, the thin, dark-haired man in the lead staring at Gaius in surprise. The old Roman saw both the Latin and the Walach had ridden hard-hair lank and greasy, clothes caked not only with good Roman dust but also salt and tar-and he forced a welcoming smile.

"Here," the old Roman said, lifting a wineskin. "Something to drink. And there is food inside, hot from the brazier."

Nicholas blinked, finally recognizing his employer and tension drained from him, leaving the young man slump-shouldered with weariness. Vladimir was no better, though he was quick to slide from the nervous horse. The Walach staggered into the shade of the arbor, barely able to walk.

Gaius Julius helped Nicholas down, then waited patiently while the man drank deep from the skin. A brisk, crunching sound filtered from inside the way station and when Gaius and Nicholas entered, they found Vladimir busily devouring a huge section of roasted mutton.

"Eat first," the old Roman said, guiding Nicholas to a stone bench. "Then we'll talk."

— |-

The last tinge of gold faded from the sky as servants moved through the vine-covered arbor, lighting copper lamps from long, smoking tapers. Gaius' guardsmen were outside, sitting with the horses, making sure no wayward travelers disturbed their master's conversation.

"…so the Urbes Brigantium landed at Portus today and we made haste up to the city." Nicholas stared at the old Roman with a hollow-eyed look. "How did you know to meet us?"

"There is a messenger relay from the port," Gaius said, lifting his head slightly to indicate the distant coast. "The captain of the Brigantium sent a note ahead to the Palatine, which came to my hands from a friend. I left immediately, of course. But you did well to make such a fast passage from Africa."

"Bad news travels swiftly," Vladimir said, his head bent. The Walach refused to meet the old Roman's eyes. Nicholas seemed similarly despondent. "Have you heard anything of our… companions?"

"The traitors, you mean!" Nicholas roused himself, anger glittering in his pale eyes. "Curse Thyatis, her maid and her mistress! We had the telecast in our very hands and then we had nothing…"

Gaius Julius nodded, his quick mind burning with rage, anger, envy-deftly done, he allowed-and Nicholas' singular hatred of the Duchess' agent loomed large in his thoughts. "This Thyatis Julia Clodia… describe her more fully."

"Tall," Nicholas muttered, his face twisting with mingled distaste and admiration. "Gray-eyed, strong, quick-very quick-with a blade. A deadly opponent. A whirlwind of steel. I've never seen such a woman before."

"Because you were not in the City the last year," Gaius Julius said, feeling an unexpected, jarring rush of emotion, of relief and delight. She is alive! Diana is alive! "There were a series of games in the arena, and champion of these contests was a woman named 'Diana' who must be-cannot be anyone-but your 'Thyatis.' She is a marvel, indeed." His voice trailed off, as memories of their too-brief encounters surged up, fresh and sharp as if not a single day had passed between now and then.

"A marvel? More like a harpy!" Nicholas spat on the dusty ground. "A faithless friend…"

"No so," Vladimir said, very softly. "She saved our lives and we hers. There is a debt-"

"There is no debt!" Nicholas' voice rose sharply. "She betrayed us!"

Gaius turned away from the two men as they fell into a muttered, fierce argument. His disappointment at failing to secure the prince's toy faded, replaced by a strange lightness in his heart. Thyatis Julia Clodia… an odd name. Why would the Clodians name a daughter Julia? We were rarely friends when I was alive. Rivals, yes-sometimes allies if the wind turned from the proper quarter in the Senate-yet not even enemies. Marc Antony now, he kept a Clodian wife for a time… did he have a son by her? Gaius shook his head in amusement. His old head was filled with a marvelous array of useless facts. But things change, even in Rome, with all these centuries passed. The old Roman was pleased to learn his "Diana" was a daughter of Rome, even if she sprang from such dissolute remnants. Silently, he congratulated the Duchess on her choice of agent. Would I had her in my own quiver, he thought ruefully, watching the two younger men out of the corner of his eye. But these fellows, and others like them, must suffice.

"Come, my friends," Gaius said, gathering up his hat. "Do not quarrel. The heat of the day has passed and we've refreshed ourselves. Your news is welcome, for these 'friends' are revealed as our enemies. We may take a more leisurely pace as we return to the city."

Everyone clattered out of the way station, grooms and guardsmen milling about to bring up the horses. Gaius stood to one side, his thoughts still plagued by inconsequential questions.

"Who were her parents?" he wondered under his breath. "How did she come to serve the Duchess? And a Legion centurion! Unheard of… just unheard of." Gaius' old face was lit by a half-hidden smile. "Ah, I would like to see her again." Then he frowned, the thought leading to an inevitable conclusion. But there will be no glad meeting of friends long parted… not now.