Queen of the Night

his head, 'with an imperial agent close by?'
    'We could not save him,' Claudia replied. 'Stathylus brought his own death upon himself. General, it's time you learned the truth.' In sharp, brief sentences she told him what she'd been told the previous evening. Once she'd finished, Aurelian sat, chin cupped in his hand, staring at the floor as if fascinated by the mosaic depicting Mars in triumph. He glanced up.
    'And Sccundus and Crispus?' he asked. 'Are they guilty of murder, of deliberately slaying their officer?'
    'No, sir.' Claudia shook her head. 'At the time it happened, neither was party to it. Postulus died because of Stathylus, because of the bad blood between them, because Postulus was a drinker, but most of all because of the Golden Maid.'
    'If I had known this yesterday,' the old General commented, as if issuing a decree, 'I would have had Stathylus scourged. He would have been fortunate not to end up on a cross. I'll summon those other two here. I have questions for them and they'll be safer in this villa!' The old General recollected who was with him and, turning, whispered an apology to his wife, who'd sat throughout studying Claudia closely. Beside her, Cassia was not as amused or as merry as yesterday, but stony-faced and hard-eyed. Claudia realised that both women were consummate actresses, deferential and welcoming as far as they could be in the presence of the Empress, but here in General Aurelian's villa very much the patrician ladies.
    'Tell me again,' Aurelian demanded, 'about what truly happened along the Great Wall.'
    Claudia did so. Every so often the General would interrupt with a question, then allow her to return to her narration. At the end he tapped his sandalled feet.
    'I'll ask Secundus and Crispus to shelter here. I agree with your conclusion, girl: when those men were killed, the only person who would have been able to get close would be a whore, and one armed with a dagger.' He turned to ask Urbana a question, but the door opened and Leartus walked in, black hair carefully combed, his olive-skinned face oiled. He was dressed in a dark red tunic edged with green, reed sandals on his feet. He carried a posy of flowers in one hand, an elegant ivory-tipped wand in the other. Despite his status, the General appeared to like him. Aurelian smiled, gesturing him forward to the stool next to his mistress, and briefly told the eunuch what had happened. Leartus sat sad-eyed and listened attentively, nodding every so often. Aurelian remembered Claudia and abruptly gestured at her.
    'Well, girl, are there any questions you wish to ask me?'
    'Do you know anything?' Claudia asked. 'Can you add to the report I've given?'
    Aurelian spread his hands. 'You are talking of the province eighteen years ago. It was like an overturned beehive, people streaming along the roads, towns and villas deserted. Our greatest enemy was fear. No one knew precisely what was happening, which general was in charge, which units could be trusted. Had pirates landed on the coast? Were the Picts through the wall? Had the Scoti breached the western defences? Which tribes were in revolt?' He glanced at Cassia, smiled and stretched out a hand. 'Poor Cassia here was caught up in it. Days of blood, nights of horror,- she still can't really recall what happened.'
    The former courtesan smiled tenderly at the old general, who seemed flattered. He sighed loudly.
    'Ah yes, it took years to reimpose order. We were only too pleased to see the Fretenses. Of course, when we heard of their great victory, rewards and praise streamed like a river towards them.'
    'Did you hear of them taking prisoners?'
    'None whatsoever,' the General replied definitely. 'They were moving fast, their possessions lashed to their saddle horns, no carts, only the soldiers and their mounts. They'd even left their own wives and children.' He glanced sharp-eyed at Claudia. 'Next question.'
    'Are there Pictish slaves in Rome?'
    'That's a hard question.' Aurelian rubbed his chin. 'The Picts,' he said, 'it is years since we've had a campaign against them. I don't know. I suppose I could ask the Aedile or the Prefect.' He glanced at Urbana. 'Can you help here?'
    His wife shook her head, her eyes never leaving Claudia's face.
    'I'll make enquiries.' The old general sighed. 'But I follow your logic, girl. If that Pictish war band was wiped out, if the woman they called the Golden Maid hanged herself, who would know, who would remember?'
    'Do you know anything about