Gradually the trauma of that night in the den of Primigenius faded. At last, Brigonius loved again. But he never forgot Lepidina.

And now she was back.

His wife, lying beside him in their bed, was awake too. Cloda, practical and warm, was the daughter of a timber merchant. Her husband had no secrets from her - not even about Lepidina. And so Cloda knew that this spirit of the past had returned to haunt her for a while; and she knew that Lepidina would soon fade into the mists, and she would have Brigonius back again.

XX

XX

Lepidina met him at the fort gate not long after dawn. One of her husband’s slaves had prepared horses for them, and a pack of food and wine. It was a bright October morning, only a few days after the autumn equinox, and unseasonably cold; the horses’ breaths misted in the air and a thick dew glistened on the ground. But the sun was low, the sky a deep blue, and the light was rich, making the cut stone of the fort walls shine.

And in this setting Lepidina looked wonderful, Brigonius thought helplessly. She wore a sensible leather coat, woollen trousers and heavy sandals. He saw on her neck a medallion he thought he remembered, a fish design done in silver. Her rich strawberry hair, now touched by a little grey, was pulled back from her forehead and tucked under a woollen cap. She didn’t seem to be wearing cosmetics, and the natural pink of her skin glowed. She was still beautiful, but it was no longer the beauty of a girl, he thought. This was the wistful autumn beauty of a woman on the cusp of age.

She gazed at him with her deep eyes, and turned away, almost girlish. ‘You’re staring. You always were a fool, Brigantius-Brigonius.’ But there was no reproach in her voice.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just you look so—’

‘If you say I look beautiful I’ll punch you. I’ve given birth to three strapping Roman senators-to-be, and a daughter. She is beautiful. I’m a mother.’

‘Very well. You look Brigantian, then.’

That seemed to touch her. ‘I do?’

‘You look as if you belong here. As if—’

‘As if I belong at your side. Is that what you mean?’

For a moment, as he looked into her eyes, the world expanded around them, and the fort, the horses, the patient slave, even the mighty Wall, receded to leave them alone in a pocket universe of their own.

‘It is still you,’ he said. ‘Inside there. Somehow I can see that.’

‘Yes. How much baggage we carry around now! Our sagging bodies, our spouses and children, all our business. And yet we are still here.’

He was falling in love with her all over again, he thought, Coventina help him! But the moment passed, and Brigonius tugged on his horse’s rein.