Queen of the Night

cook?'
    'Yes, I think I do.' Claudia smiled. 'Celades, come with me!'

    The veteran Secundus stared at the tympanum above the porticoed entrance to the luxurious baths at General Aurelian's villa. Dawn was imminent, the eastern sky lit up a red-gold; a breeze, soft and cool, whispered among the trees, spreading the perfume from the flower banks. Secundus could just make out the carving of the extravagant roundel containing a fearsome head with flowing hair and beard, all surrounded by winged Victories and helmetcd Tritons. He climbed up the steps and into the shadow-filled portico. He pulled at the bolts on the top and bottom of the door and walked into the darkness. A mixture of smells greeted him: soap, oil, perfume and salted water. He took a taper and lit the row of oil lamps in their copper containers before the carving of the Four Seasons, dominated by the goddess Luna. He lit more oil lamps, noticing how they were carved in the shape of proud stags, the antlers spreading out, the space in between for the wick and oil. He would rest a while,- after all, Crispus had not yet arrived and it was still very early.
    Secundus had slept badly. He wanted to reflect, recollect himself and think about last night's meeting with General Aurelian. Both he and Crispus had been summoned into the villa's library, where his old commander sat behind a desk, as he used to behind that table in the imperial pavilion. Aurelian had greeted them coldly and barked one question after another. Secundus and Crispus had prepared their story very carefully. They described the macabre events so many years ago at that mile fort along the windswept wall in the north of Britain. They conjured up the loneliness, the desolation, the brooding weather, the sudden storms and the fear of attack. They described how Postulus and Stathylus had clashed over the woman, the so-called Golden Maid. How Postulus' drinking had become worse, and he had begun cursing and swearing, leaving all commands to Stathylus.
    The General had heard them out, muttering under his breath as he nodded, that eagle-like face brooding as if summoning up the ghosts from the past. Crispus and Secundus would not tell the full truth. How they had not really been sent out scouting, but decided to escape the tension and the growing sense of menace in that fort; nor did they want to talk about the woman. She had been truly beautiful, really no more than a girl, but she'd captivated Postulus and Stathylus. Most of the garrison realised it would end in bloodshed, and they'd all been very worried. They were cut off, not another soldier in sight, just that desolate heathland. They'd even heard reports that villas and farms many miles to the south were deserted. In the end they had been secretly relieved that Stathylus had taken the law into his own hands, leaving their drink-sodden officer on his own in the abandoned mile castle. Postulus had been killed whilst they'd wreaked vengeance on the Picts, then galloped south as fast as they could. It was a pity the girl had died. Aurelian had questioned them about that. They didn't talk about the torture of the chieftain, how the maid was brought to watch his final agonies, or that she'd lost her wits and killed herself.
    The old general had seemed satisfied with their answers, but he had clearly been talking to that interfering little nobody, Claudia. He kept coming back to the same question: had any Picts survived that massacre? Crispus and Secundus spoke the truth; they'd scoured the moorlands, nobody had escaped. They'd piled the dead high, soaked them in cheap oil and burned them. They thought the interrogation was over, then Aurelian had turned to the question of Petilius. Why had he been so insistent on trying to see him? Crispus and Secundus, relieved to tell the truth, replied they did not know. Petilius was never one to confide in others. The old general had concluded that they were good soldiers. He was concerned that their companions had been killed, so he had decided to look after them; after all, he needed good servants, and what better than former companions, men who'd stood with him in the battle line? He would care for them; they'd share a room, eat in the kitchens, be responsible for cleaning the baths and receive fresh livery and an allowance.
    Afterwards Crispus and Secundus had congratulated themselves on their good fortune; there was little for them in Rome, whilst the General had assured them that they could stay at the