know Titus. Five words strung together is an epic poem.”
After a moment, Lucan smiled back. “So. Did you ever ask him about Varro?”
That confirmed it. He knows the truth. Or he suspects. He brought me here, away from Titus, to catch us out. “What about Varro?”
“About what he did to your friend. How he found him, why he couldn’t stop him. Did Titus ever talk to you about that?”
Primus’ mind was racing. What had made Lucan suspicious? Sextus’ body had never been found. They said that Varro confessed to the murder, but Primus assumed they tortured him first. Perhaps Lucan did not believe the confession. Think carefully. Does the legate think I was involved? Is he after both of us, or just Titus? Primus shoveled a spoonful of porridge into his mouth to buy time. Lucan had gone to great length to draw him away from Titus. He wanted a confession.
Primus realized that this was his chance to clear Varro’s name. It had been weeks since Sextus left the camp. Even if Primus confessed it all, they would never catch up to him. Primus could pretend that Titus had confessed to him, to disguise his own involvement... he might even drop hints and let the legate draw his own conclusions. If he did it right, he could lead Lucan to the truth and still plead ignorance. They would release Varro, and probably put Titus in his place. That would be justice, would it not?
Primus looked the legate in the eye. “I never asked Titus about Varro. And he never did tell.” After a long moment, the legate nodded.
When the fire burned low, Primus bedded down on the hard stone road, looking up at the streak of winter stars between the treetops. Titus had been right. There were liars everywhere. And he had made Primus into one of them.
This is an outrage. Anyone can see that this man’s motives are personal. Pursuing his rights? He is pursuing revenge. I will not be bullied or persecuted. This suit is pure harassment, and if you allow it to happen simply because his name is ‘Seneca,’ then you are as guilty as he. I will pay my debts in good order–I am no reprobate. But I will not be ruined simply because this man could not control his wife. If he were a man of character, my daughter would never have humiliated him.
– Testimony of the Defendant ,
G . M. Seneca vs. T. P. Qyrianus
SILVERMINE
They were still twenty miles from the mining camp when they saw the smoke. The trees had thinned after they crossed the river on the fifth day. The bridge was built of rough-cut timber, and it perched on the bones of a more ancient highway whose massive granite slabs had been tumbled into the river in some distant past. As they continued west on the other side, the outriders began to return more frequently from their rangings. By the set of the legate's shoulders, Primus guessed their news was not good.
Primus had not traveled alongside Lucan since the first day. Lucan had made it clear that he was welcome, stopping to pass a few words with him each morning before they set out. Each morning Primus mounted up beside him, but by the time the sun was clear of the horizon he would drop back to ride at the rear of the company. He knew why Lucan wanted to befriend him, and he didn't care to be manipulated.
He watched as scouts brought reports back to their leader and rode forth again into the forest. When Lucan glanced back at Primus for the third time, he knew there was some news about the mining camp. He wanted to hear the reports–he wanted to kick his horse to a gallop and ride right past them all, and see for himself what had become of his father. Instead he stayed where he was, and tried not to let his feelings show on his face. Finally, when the trees were thin enough that they could see the column of black smoke that stood like a pillar against the mountainside, Lucan reined in his horse and waited for Primus to catch up to him.
The legate did not force him to ask. "Right now we know that the Woade have been
After a moment, Lucan smiled back. “So. Did you ever ask him about Varro?”
That confirmed it. He knows the truth. Or he suspects. He brought me here, away from Titus, to catch us out. “What about Varro?”
“About what he did to your friend. How he found him, why he couldn’t stop him. Did Titus ever talk to you about that?”
Primus’ mind was racing. What had made Lucan suspicious? Sextus’ body had never been found. They said that Varro confessed to the murder, but Primus assumed they tortured him first. Perhaps Lucan did not believe the confession. Think carefully. Does the legate think I was involved? Is he after both of us, or just Titus? Primus shoveled a spoonful of porridge into his mouth to buy time. Lucan had gone to great length to draw him away from Titus. He wanted a confession.
Primus realized that this was his chance to clear Varro’s name. It had been weeks since Sextus left the camp. Even if Primus confessed it all, they would never catch up to him. Primus could pretend that Titus had confessed to him, to disguise his own involvement... he might even drop hints and let the legate draw his own conclusions. If he did it right, he could lead Lucan to the truth and still plead ignorance. They would release Varro, and probably put Titus in his place. That would be justice, would it not?
Primus looked the legate in the eye. “I never asked Titus about Varro. And he never did tell.” After a long moment, the legate nodded.
When the fire burned low, Primus bedded down on the hard stone road, looking up at the streak of winter stars between the treetops. Titus had been right. There were liars everywhere. And he had made Primus into one of them.
This is an outrage. Anyone can see that this man’s motives are personal. Pursuing his rights? He is pursuing revenge. I will not be bullied or persecuted. This suit is pure harassment, and if you allow it to happen simply because his name is ‘Seneca,’ then you are as guilty as he. I will pay my debts in good order–I am no reprobate. But I will not be ruined simply because this man could not control his wife. If he were a man of character, my daughter would never have humiliated him.
– Testimony of the Defendant ,
G . M. Seneca vs. T. P. Qyrianus
SILVERMINE
They were still twenty miles from the mining camp when they saw the smoke. The trees had thinned after they crossed the river on the fifth day. The bridge was built of rough-cut timber, and it perched on the bones of a more ancient highway whose massive granite slabs had been tumbled into the river in some distant past. As they continued west on the other side, the outriders began to return more frequently from their rangings. By the set of the legate's shoulders, Primus guessed their news was not good.
Primus had not traveled alongside Lucan since the first day. Lucan had made it clear that he was welcome, stopping to pass a few words with him each morning before they set out. Each morning Primus mounted up beside him, but by the time the sun was clear of the horizon he would drop back to ride at the rear of the company. He knew why Lucan wanted to befriend him, and he didn't care to be manipulated.
He watched as scouts brought reports back to their leader and rode forth again into the forest. When Lucan glanced back at Primus for the third time, he knew there was some news about the mining camp. He wanted to hear the reports–he wanted to kick his horse to a gallop and ride right past them all, and see for himself what had become of his father. Instead he stayed where he was, and tried not to let his feelings show on his face. Finally, when the trees were thin enough that they could see the column of black smoke that stood like a pillar against the mountainside, Lucan reined in his horse and waited for Primus to catch up to him.
The legate did not force him to ask. "Right now we know that the Woade have been
Similar Books
