Anne Barbour (11 page)

Rufus confirmed this. As Jasper, nose to the ground, made his own exploration, the warrior gazed about him in stupefaction.

“Gods,” he breathed. “When I came here yesterday—or whenever—this structure stood seven or eight stories tall. I was told the height was planned to reach some thirty
pedes
tall, to be divided into six levels.

“When the storm struck, I was on the ground floor—luckily. In fact, I was standing just about where that partial flooring still remains. Over here”—he gestured to a spot just to his left—”was a table, and over there some tools. Beside that was just a lot of rubbish. The place had been abandoned for a number of years, you see.”

He paced the inside of the tower, poking hopefully at the rubble left by yesterday’s lightning strike. At his heels, Jasper sniffed purposefully at the building stones thus overturned.

“Oh dear,” said Hilary, “I don’t see anything at all that looks like a device.”

“A device?” queried James.

“Well, Rufus was not whisked through the centuries by his own volition. Something sent him here, and I thought there might be some sign of a—a mechanical—thing.”

“Mm.” James frowned. “I see what you mean. But who could have created such a—thing? Of course,” he continued, “it might have been one of those accidental discoveries.”

“Yes!” cried Hilary eagerly. “Like electricity. But who... ?”

James, pondering an answer to her unfinished question, found his reflections unexpectedly halted by the eagerness visible in her eyes. Her gaze was open and clear as a forest stream, and her pleasure in the situation in which she found herself just as inviting. It was as though she was lit from within by a wholly irresistible spirit of adventure, one that she seemed compelled to share.

James had, he realized with some surprise, enjoyed their conversation during the short journey from Goodhurst to the tower on the Whiteleaves property. Perhaps, he reflected with a rueful smile, because the main topic under discussion had been himself. Hilary displayed no interest in touting her own expertise in antiquities, but rather questioned him about his own.

James had taken for granted that her interest was feigned, assumed to flatter him, but to his further surprise, Hilary had listened to his answers, interjecting more queries and comments. He was, he thought with irrational irritation, being forced to the conclusion that her professed passion for the study of antiquities was quite genuine, and that she had acquired an astonishing fund of information on the subject.

To be sure, she was obviously not to be the assistant he had envisioned earlier, for she displayed a distressing independence of mind. The fact that he prized such a characteristic in a male colleague he thrust to the back of his thoughts. As much as he deplored the necessity of spending time in the company of a nubile female of marriageable age, he experienced an unwarranted stirring of anticipation.

As he moved toward Rufus and Hilary, something flickered at the edge of his vision. He turned his head, but caught only a glimpse of what seemed to be a black cloak, slipping among the trees and out of sight.

“Who is there?” he called sharply.

“What is it?” asked Hilary, only to fall silent as James gestured with his hand.

After a moment, James continued. “It was nothing, I guess. I saw a figure—or thought I did—garbed in black. But now ...”

Hilary’s expression cleared. “That must be Dorcas.”

To James’s expression of inquiry, she replied, “An old woman who lives in a cottage near here. She has been there ever since I can remember, and she’s somewhat eccentric, though perfectly harmless. She’s known simply as The Old One hereabouts and she likes to visit the tower and the stone dance.”

“Ah,” was James’s only comment. To Rufus he queried, “Have you seen enough, optima?” Rufus glanced up in surprise at this designation of a foot soldier about to be elevated to the rank of centurion. If he appreciated the unwarranted courtesy, no sign showed in his countenance. “I must say,” continued James, “I do not perceive anything here to provide the slightest clue as to your remarkable experience.”

Rufus glanced about him, a frown on his face.

“I suppose,” he remarked, “I almost expected to see the old priest here, waving his staff and cackling.” He kicked aimlessly at a. small stone. “But there is nothing—”

“Well,” interposed Hilary, “perhaps if you were to apologize ...” She glanced sheepishly at James who had snorted audibly. “I know, but since we have no other explanation of Rufus’ presence here ... That is, what could it hurt?”

Rufus drew himself up. “I? Apologize? What for? And to whom? The old goat obviously did not choose to make the journey through time with me. How—?” He glowered as Hilary continued to gaze at him expectantly. “Oh, all right.”

He turned toward the stone altar and lifted his face to the sky. He raised his voice uncertainly. “Very well, priest. I am sorry if I disturbed you and your spirits. I—I meant no disrespect. Please, may I go home now?” he concluded plaintively.

The three stood motionless for several seconds, but nothing stirred in the clearing around the tower except the birds and the mice and the leaves of the trees.

Rufus sighed. “I knew it wouldn’t work,” he muttered. “I suppose I shall have to make a sacrifice.”

“A what?” echoed James and Hilary in unison.

“I shall have to purchase a fine, fat ewe, or possibly even a young bullock,” Rufus muttered. “Or—oh, gods, I wonder if...”

“Urk,” breathed Hilary through bloodless lips. Had she not read that the Druids practiced human sacrifice? She glanced at James, and from his expression, the same thought had occurred to him. Was Rufus contemplating... ?

“Well!” she exclaimed brightly. “No sense in lingering here. Why don’t we return to Goodhurst and—and make our way to the villa.” She turned to James. “I’m sure Rufus could give us a fascinating insight as to its construction.”

“I would rather go to Corinium,” said Rufus firmly.

Hilary and James exchanged glances.

“I don’t think—” began James, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching softly through the fallen leaves. A moment later, an old woman entered the stone circle. She was small and frail and bent with age. Her face, which resembled the surface of an ancient tree trunk, featured a pair of black eyes that glittered as brightly as water on stones. Her garb was almost nun-like. She wore a dark, somber gown, covered with a voluminous black cloak. On her head, almost completely masking hair so white it shone silver in the morning sun, she wore a homespun shawl that hung almost to the hem of her garments.

“Why, Miss Dorcas,” cried Hilary in a pleased voice. “Good morning to you. I have not seen you out and about for months.”

“I have been resting.” The woman’s voice was, surprisingly, low and musical. “The harvest season is a busy time for me.” She scrutinized Hilary’s face. “And how do you fare, little one?”

“Very well, thank you, ma’am.” She turned to gesture to James and Rufus. “Allow me to present two new friends to you, Mr. James Wincanon and, er, Rufus.”

The hand extended by old Dorcas seemed made of cobwebs and twigs, but James bent over it courteously and murmured a conventional greeting. As she turned to Rufus, the old woman hesitated for a moment, eyeing him keenly. Then, she laughed quietly. “Ah, it is you,” she said at last. “I am surprised to see you here.”

Rufus, startled, mumbled,
“Ave,
old one. The blessings of Juno be on you.”

Old Dorcas chuckled once more, and to Hilary’s astonishment spoke in Latin. “Juno, indeed. You are sore put upon, Roman. I wish you luck.” She turned to leave, but paused to address James. “It appears your destiny is upon you at last, young man. Try not to do something stupid.”

She lifted her hand in what might have been a benediction on the group and in a moment, she had vanished into the trees, leaving James and Rufus gaping after her.

“What the devil... ?” rumbled James.

“How did she know I was from Rome?” asked Rufus simultaneously.

“And she speaks Latin!” James exclaimed.

Hilary smiled. “The Old One is full of surprises, and she knows many things. Some say she is a witch. Mostly, however, she is regarded as a healer. The women of the neighborhood seek her out for cures and advice on all subjects of interest to females.”

“She seems to like you,” remarked James casually.

“Yes, I used to see her often when I came to the tower. She taught me the names of plants and gave me good things to eat.”

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Are we ready to proceed to the villa?” he asked.

“I want to go to Corinium,” stated Rufus, returning to an earlier theme.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” James said again.

“Why not?” asked Rufus, with that pugnacious tilt to his chin that Hilary was beginning to recognize.

“Um,” said James. “You will not know the place. You will not be able to speak with anyone. You can’t—”

“I don’t care,” Rufus barked stubbornly. “I want to see it.”

“Perhaps it would not be a bad idea,” interposed Hilary in English. “If Rufus sees what Corinium looks like today, he will realize the profound difference between our age and his. Perhaps he will then be more agreeable to confining himself to the haven of Goodhurst.”

“Very well,” replied James curtly, “although I am very uneasy about this.”

Rufus’ demeanor, as the three bowled along the Fosse Way, gave no credence to these forebodings. He gaped with fascination at the houses along the way and asked questions about the different types of vehicles they encountered. He sat quietly but interestedly as James paused at a toll gate, and when the gatekeeper addressed an inconsequential remark to him, he merely smiled and lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

James relaxed somewhat.

From her corner in James’s carriage, Hilary shifted under the weight of Jasper’s bulk, curled on her feet. Covertly, she watched James as he endeavored to impress upon Rufus the necessity of keeping his mouth shut. She was hard put not to laugh out loud. Gracious, he was the personification of pedantic stolidity. Did the man not have any sense of fun? She recalled the smile that had escaped him yesterday. Perhaps, she mused, she could coax another one of out of him today. Why this endeavor should suddenly assume importance in her mind, she could not say, except that she was of the strong belief that everyone owed himself a smile at least once a day.

“Mr. Win—” she began thoughtfully. “That is, James. Now that you have met some of your new neighbors, I know you will wish to get to know them better. To that end, I hope you will reconsider your decision not to attend
Mrs. Strindham’s musicale. She was quite disappointed when you declined her invitation.”

James turned a frigid glance on her.

“I am, of course, devastated to have become a source of displeasure to Mrs. Strindham, but I have no intention of either attending her musicale or succumbing to the dubious charms of her daughter—Emmaline, is it?”

“Evangeline, and there’s no need to strike such a toplofty attitude. No one is asking you to succumb to anything. For heaven’s sake, don’t you like music?”

“I do, when it is adequately performed. It has been my experience that country musicales usually consist of locals coaxing execrable sounds from badly crafted instruments.”

“My good man,” declared Hilary, growing rather red in the face, “Mrs. Strindham may be the wife of a squire, but she has as good an ear for music as any of your fine London hostesses. In fact, that’s where she usually finds her performers—in London, that is. Her musicales are considered excellent, and invitations to them are much coveted.”

James snorted. “That may be the case, but I have no desire to plunge myself into the local—”

A sound from Rufus interrupted him.

“Have we arrived?” asked the warrior interestedly, waving his hand at the cottages that had sprung up along the roadside and the hint of larger buildings ahead.

“Yes,” replied Hilary, with a last, darkling glance at James that indicated she was by no means through with the subject of Mrs. Strindham’s musicale. “You will find it much changed, for I think it is not nearly as large as it was in your time.”

“Now, remember,” cautioned James once more. “Stay close and stay quiet.”

As they made their way through winding lanes and shop-lined streets, the warrior appeared to be taking James’s words to heart, for as they reached the center of the town, he fell silent. Wide-eyed, he stared about him.

“Corinium?” he whispered.

“Yes,” replied James. “Only now it is called Cirencester.”

“At least,” put in Hilary, “the people here remember that this used to be a Roman fort. That is why they included ‘cester’ in the name. There are a great many place names in Britain that end in ‘cester,’ ” she added in a spirit of helpfulness.

“Can you describe any of the buildings that used to stand where these houses and shops are now?” asked James.

Trust the scholar, thought Hilary somewhat irritably, to ignore Rufus’ frightened confusion in order to scour out the information that lay beneath it.

“No—no,” replied Rufus. “I do not recognize anything. It is as though I have never been here.”

They had been traveling along Tower Street, but now turned into The Avenue.

“See there?” James pointed. “We have discovered, there by that ironmonger’s shop, the remains of what we think was the Roman basilica. Does that tell you anything?”

He drew the carriage to a halt and Rufus, his gaze on the shop, slowly descended to the ground. He walked closer to the edifice, then moved a few steps away, looking about him in puzzlement.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “If this is where the basilica stood— do you know in which direction it lay?” He gestured with his hands.

“We think the entrance was over there.” James pointed to the shop. “The main part of the building spread to that alehouse.”

“Gods,” breathed Rufus. “I cannot believe everything could be so changed. Let’s see.” He paced a few steps toward the market square. “The forum, then, would have lain in this direction.”

He grasped James’s arm and strode down the street. Reaching the corner, he turned abruptly to the left and walked past several shops before he halted suddenly.