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Authors: Manda Scott
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proud of him. He managed to bite me this morning. The shock nearly killed us both.”
Distantly, he was aware that his shoulder ached but the pain was not yet fully part of him. Like the brand, he yearned for it to come home, as if pain were something realin which he could hide. Experimentally, he rolled his arm back and winced.
He had forgotten in whose company he stood. Corvus had reached a hand for his cloak and turned the neck of it back before either of them remembered that he no longer had leave—and then remembered also that he was a prefect and could do anything he chose with the cloak and person of a junior officer. Valerius swayed back at his touch and came upright again, parade-ground stiff.
Corvus hissed through his teeth and snatched his hand away. “I’m sorry.”
“No harm.” Valerius believed it. The cloak may have been turned back but the fit of his tunic covered his shoulder. He did not find until later that the spreading bruise had crept up his neck, turning the flesh blue-black from shoulder to ear and from collar bone to scapula, and that a great butterfly’s wing of it showed clearly in the light from the lamp. Longinus Sdapeze must have seen it, too, but had the sense not to comment.
Corvus stared ahead, saying nothing. Rarely were they so formal in each other’s company. It damaged them both and destroyed what they had been.
Pulling his cloak straight, Valerius said, ‘I’m sorry, I was distracted. One of the Thracian cavalrymen came with news that the pipes to the bath house are frozen. Longinus Sdapeze. He’s astute. He thinks of problems before they occur.”
Men like that were few enough. On the Rhine, Valerius and Corvus had vied with each other to find them, to single them out and train with them, to set them apart from the greater mass of unthinking brutality that was the legion andits auxiliaries. They had not concerned themselves with the other ways by which men set themselves apart.
As if following the thought, Corvus said, “I heard you are given to the bull-slayer, that you have taken the raven.”
It was not a secret. Everybody knew the names of the initiates. The secrecy lay in the nature of the tests and the oaths required of the acolytes; in this was the god’s ultimate strength. Only with Corvus did the fact of one man’s vows mean so much more.
Stiffly, Valerius said, “I believed it would be constructive in the development of my career.”
Corvus raised one brow. “I’m sure it will be.”
They waited. A thin northern wind coursed down the
via principalis.
Shouted orders rode on the back of it. Enough men had woken for others to realize the danger posed by the snow. The part of Valerius that genuinely was concerned with the future of his career saw the urgency of his message diminish, and with it the credit for raising the alarm.
Corvus ran his tongue round his teeth. After a moment, he stepped back, holding the door open. “Would you come in? I have sent word to the decurions to have the fifth and sixth troops clear the roof of the main buildings of the
principia
. The fourth will see to the
praetoria,
although it is furnished with hypocausts and I suspect the governor’s household will have burned the fires throughout the last several nights to banish the cold. It would not surprise me to see the tiles shine free of snow and steaming when the sun rises.”
“Rank will have its privilege,” said Valerius drily.
“Indeed. Which is why I think you should meet the governor’s son. He is inside and I have left him alone too long. We were discussing the uprising in the west. Will you join us?”
CHAPTER 5
Corvus’ morning visitor waited, as was proper, in the prefect’s office. It was a spare, sparse room to be dignified with such a title. The walls were whitewashed and without adornment. The plaster was finer than in the barracks and the place lacked the clutter of the legionary lodgings, but otherwise there was little to choose between this room
Distantly, he was aware that his shoulder ached but the pain was not yet fully part of him. Like the brand, he yearned for it to come home, as if pain were something realin which he could hide. Experimentally, he rolled his arm back and winced.
He had forgotten in whose company he stood. Corvus had reached a hand for his cloak and turned the neck of it back before either of them remembered that he no longer had leave—and then remembered also that he was a prefect and could do anything he chose with the cloak and person of a junior officer. Valerius swayed back at his touch and came upright again, parade-ground stiff.
Corvus hissed through his teeth and snatched his hand away. “I’m sorry.”
“No harm.” Valerius believed it. The cloak may have been turned back but the fit of his tunic covered his shoulder. He did not find until later that the spreading bruise had crept up his neck, turning the flesh blue-black from shoulder to ear and from collar bone to scapula, and that a great butterfly’s wing of it showed clearly in the light from the lamp. Longinus Sdapeze must have seen it, too, but had the sense not to comment.
Corvus stared ahead, saying nothing. Rarely were they so formal in each other’s company. It damaged them both and destroyed what they had been.
Pulling his cloak straight, Valerius said, ‘I’m sorry, I was distracted. One of the Thracian cavalrymen came with news that the pipes to the bath house are frozen. Longinus Sdapeze. He’s astute. He thinks of problems before they occur.”
Men like that were few enough. On the Rhine, Valerius and Corvus had vied with each other to find them, to single them out and train with them, to set them apart from the greater mass of unthinking brutality that was the legion andits auxiliaries. They had not concerned themselves with the other ways by which men set themselves apart.
As if following the thought, Corvus said, “I heard you are given to the bull-slayer, that you have taken the raven.”
It was not a secret. Everybody knew the names of the initiates. The secrecy lay in the nature of the tests and the oaths required of the acolytes; in this was the god’s ultimate strength. Only with Corvus did the fact of one man’s vows mean so much more.
Stiffly, Valerius said, “I believed it would be constructive in the development of my career.”
Corvus raised one brow. “I’m sure it will be.”
They waited. A thin northern wind coursed down the
via principalis.
Shouted orders rode on the back of it. Enough men had woken for others to realize the danger posed by the snow. The part of Valerius that genuinely was concerned with the future of his career saw the urgency of his message diminish, and with it the credit for raising the alarm.
Corvus ran his tongue round his teeth. After a moment, he stepped back, holding the door open. “Would you come in? I have sent word to the decurions to have the fifth and sixth troops clear the roof of the main buildings of the
principia
. The fourth will see to the
praetoria,
although it is furnished with hypocausts and I suspect the governor’s household will have burned the fires throughout the last several nights to banish the cold. It would not surprise me to see the tiles shine free of snow and steaming when the sun rises.”
“Rank will have its privilege,” said Valerius drily.
“Indeed. Which is why I think you should meet the governor’s son. He is inside and I have left him alone too long. We were discussing the uprising in the west. Will you join us?”
CHAPTER 5
Corvus’ morning visitor waited, as was proper, in the prefect’s office. It was a spare, sparse room to be dignified with such a title. The walls were whitewashed and without adornment. The plaster was finer than in the barracks and the place lacked the clutter of the legionary lodgings, but otherwise there was little to choose between this room
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