To Kill the Christ! - Chapter Twenty-two: Serpent in Long Reach

Gaio was unhappy with Nottingham. He was someone of importance in Camulodunum. There he attracted physicians and apprentices like a bright new star in the firmament. And young women of some culture, well dressed and gay and bright sought his favors. But all of that was in Camulodunum, not Nottingham. Even though Rebecca consulted him as an equal, it was clear she knew more about medicine than he. He was a student again, yet he felt she would be impressed with his learning because he had been to Camulodunum.

Cunovali had become a friend. Gaio saw how Carl recognized qualities in the young man, so he cultivated his friendship. It was easy to do. Cunovali was thankful for Gaio's help with the operation, and being close to Gaio put him closer to Rebecca.

One evening, two months after the annual harvest festival, Cunovali was sitting in Gaio's ample Nottingham quarters, drinking warm ale, for it was cold outside. The winter winds were snapping at the windows and corners of the rooftops like wolves on a long leash. A servant put a log on the fire, first chilling the room as it hid the coals, until bursting into flame, sending bright light to the farthest corners.

"Wy call you Queen Rebecca a goddess?" Cunovali asked Gaio, his Dumnonii accent heavy. "She look like other queens to me, 'tho uncommonly beautiful."

The warm fire and warm ale comforted Gaio, although he longed to be warmed by the arms of a Camulodunum lass. Still, he kept his wits about him, searching always for advantage with friend and foe. He had matured. His smooth face now was fully bearded but neatly trimmed. And his form had filled out under the luxury living in Camulodunum and Nottingham. His clothes were of imported cloth, finer than others in the kingdom, including Carl. Only Raphael had a comparable wardrobe because Messalina worked hard to dress him well. Gaio looked the part of a prosperous court physician of another era.

"She is Athena. No human knows as much about medicine as she does," he replied. "She has medicines that kill an infection in a man that no other medicine on earth will kill. Lord Raphael's withered hand is from a serious wrist wound, but the infection, as she called it, would have killed anyone else. Her drugs saved his life."

The wind picked up in intensity and Gaio moved his chair closer to the fireplace. Several of the Nottingham homes had been built with fireplaces instead of fire pits. Gaio got one of them. He thought about the heat. Whether from fireplace or fire pit, there's always one choice: bake on one side and partially warm the other, or sit far enough away to warm one side and freeze the other. Ever it is thus.

But one part of his mind kept the conversation going. "In addition," he said, "something that you've not seen yet, she's probably the finest archer in Britannia. No archer in Nottingham can best her."

Cunovali moved closer to the fire as well, bending to hear Gaio's voice above the snap of the fire and the roar of the wind. Archery interested him, not medicine.

"Queen Rebecca designed the bows Nottingham uses," Gaio said, "and King Carl designed the arrow tips, which penetrate to such depth and leave gaping wounds when they are ripped out."

He offered a suggestion. "If you want to learn about archery, you should stay close to Queen Rebecca. She works only with the archers and that less and less now that she has built the finest archery army in Britannia."

"How can Ai do? Genrl Ort is my commander, and Ai work with his infantry. Ai a swordsman, not archer."

Gaio thought for awhile. "You can tell Genrl... General Ort that you want to learn about archers' tactics to prepare your men to counter them. You should study what can be done to protect your men from arrows while they still advance on the enemy. And one way to do that is to learn what archers look for against an attacking enemy."

Cunovali was deep in thought. It's a good idea, and I can spend more time with the queen. If I'm lucky, I might even bed her. King Carl is much taller than me, but I'm a match for any man. King Carl's no god and Rebecca's no goddess. Gaio can enjoy his fairytales, but I'm practical, and Carl and Rebecca are human, very human.

A smile touched Cunovali's lips as he looked into the flames.

Gaio read his thoughts. Cunovali is mine, and he doesn't know it.

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It was late February, and the winter cold was more intense and lasted longer than usual. Carl refused to let up on military training. Large units were joining regularly from various tribes, something new in Britannia. They were split up and the tribes were mixed up, but it meant constant training of new men and old.

"We've got to meld these new men into our forces," he told his officers day after day. And as the winter progressed, the various units became finely tuned instruments. On maneuvers one day, Carl noticed Cunovali with Rebecca's archers.

"Ort, what's Cunovali doing with Rebecca?"

"He learns how archers attack infantry, what they look for in an infantry attack so they can exploit it. He thinks he can counter archers if he knows how they think."

"It's a good idea, but he needs to know how the enemy's archers think, not ours. Our archers can operate half again as far as any enemy force. If he prepares to combat our archers, he prepares against the wrong foe. He needs to know the limits of others."

"I'll put him back in his unit today."

Carl hesitated. He had noticed Cunovali with Rebecca earlier but had given it no thought. Seeing him with her during maneuvers was something else. Am I overreacting?

"No, just tell him what I said. He should learn archers' tactics, but he should go to those who have served in other armies. Rebecca's perfected techniques that others can't use."

"I'll tell him tonight."

"Also ask him to report on what he learns. If he has ideas, we should learn from them."

After Ort left, Gaio approached Carl. "My lord, I would have a word with you."

"Yes, Gaio. Is the hospital unit functioning well?"

"I'm afraid not. Queen Rebecca is spending so much time with the archers, which is necessary I understand, that she has not had time to spend with the hospital unit. We need her superior wisdom."

Gaio's ingratiating manner and use of superlatives repelled Carl. But he was concerned about the hospital unit. In any sustained attack lasting for days or weeks, such as a siege, a hospital was necessary to get fighting men back on their feet as quickly as possible. But even in the short battles that characterized most warfare in Britannia and Gaul, a hospital saved precious lives for future battles. A trained soldier was too valuable to lose if it could be helped. Besides, he knew from experience the hospital boosted morale. It must function well. The Roman army had doctors only for officers, though they trained some soldiers to help the regular legionnaires. Only Long Reach had medical treatment for all soldiers.

Carl responded. "I thought the hospital unit was doing so well it didn't need the Queen's help any longer."

"Perhaps I am wrong, but it isn't doing well. We need the Queen's insights."

"I'll talk with her tonight."

"Please don't say I've complained about the hospital unit. I wouldn't want her to think I'm saying thing behind her back."

But you are, Carl said to himself.

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That night Carl sat in the large living room with Rebecca. Curtis was playing on his lap. The cold weather had not abated, and the maneuvers over the past three days had been cold and wet. It was good to be home. They had not seen each other except at a distance for several days for both had been actively planning and organizing before the maneuvers. Their lives were very busy.

"The archers did very well in setting up the battleline yesterday," Carl said. "They were dropping arrows into the advance zone with great precision. You've done a good job with them."

"Thanks, but it's really Bruscilus' command now. I'm along as an observer. I don't issue a command. You've always said that you wanted me off of the front line, so I am." She grinned but failed to notice his sober face.

"I heard the hospital unit was in terrible shape this time. Men didn't know what they were supposed to be doing, including some of the doctors."

Rebecca was startled, then she flushed. "Where did you hear that? I've had regular reports that everything was going well, that the tents and equipment were moved to the new location and set up in record speed. Something's wrong."

"Did you see it?"

"No, I was with the archers. I've been teaching Cunovali the tactics archers use. He wants to know how infantry should respond to those tactics."

"I understand he's been with you quite a bit."

"Carl! What are you saying?" Rebecca stood up and faced the fireplace. She was flushed from Carl's accusation and the heat of the fire. "You've admired Cunovali's daring and leadership," she turned to him and retorted, "and now that he's exhibiting it you tell me I shouldn't help him."

"You shouldn't. Cunovali doesn't need to learn what you can teach him. He needs to learn what the enemy can do, not us."

"That's not true. We support the infantry, and he needs to know what we can do to support him."

"That's true, but I understood he was studying the tactics that archers used so he could combat them, not our tactics so he could use them."

Carl could be infuriating in an argument. He seldom lost his cool. Anger forced him to concentrate more intently on the cause and in an argument that focus could be devastating to the opposition, except that logic didn't always win arguments. Those who "lost" simply retired from the field or rationalized their arguments some other way. Carl never recognized that emotions developed their own logic. Sometimes he won in his own mind but still lost. This was one of those times.

"You're impossible! I'm going to take a bath and go to bed. Don't wake me when you come!" She snatched a startled Curtis from his lap and strode from the room, Curtis wailing on her shoulder.

The room grew cool when Rebecca left, the life had gone out of it. Carl shook his head. Women! They never argue logically. They just get emotional!

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A knock on the door connecting the Annex, as Carl called Raphael's building, woke him from his revere. He checked his watch. It was midnight. Rebecca had been gone for nearly four hours.

"Come in Raphael, I can use your company."

It was Raphael, but Messalina was with him. They were dressed for bed, but both were flushed.

Carl sat up, fully alert. "What's the problem? Someone sick?"

Raphael was angry, but he controlled himself as he walked to the fireplace to capture the heat. Messalina stood in the shadows.

"I hear you've been spending time with Messalina."

"What!" Carl was on his feet. He looked at Raphael, ignoring Messalina. "You have to be kidding. When is this supposed to have occurred?"

"Don't spar with me. You know when. I was out of Nottingham all week on the trip to Garn to check our coal production. I just got back today."

"Raphael, can we talk about this without Messalina. I swear to God that nothing has happened, but we need to talk as man to man without her present."

He turned to Messalina to tell her to return to her apartment but stopped just in time. It wasn't his place to do so.

Carl looked closely at Messalina. Even in the flickering light of the fireplace he could see where tears had streaked her face. He wanted to confront Raphael but hesitated. He had just had an argument himself. Such things could not be settled between husband and wife by outsiders, especially the outsider who was accused of having caused the problem.

Raphael had seen Carl's surprise and a dark suspicion crossed his mind. "Of course, go to bed Messalina. I'll be back shortly."

As Messalina disappeared in the passageway Carl thought of the difference between Rebecca and Messalina. Is the difference based only on culture?

He turned to Raphael and walked over to share the heat from the low burning fire. "What's the problem? What have you heard about me and Messalina?"

"I was told that you spent days as well as nights with Messalina while I was gone on my trip. The thought of cuckolding drives me wild, because I know my crabbed hand makes me vulnerable to other men."

It was a startling admission, one from the heart.

"Raphael, believe me with all your heart and mind. I have not spent any time alone with Messalina. For two nights right after you left she had dinner with us. After that she and Rebecca spent time together before she returned to the Annex. Rebecca and I hardly saw each other the last five or six days because we were planning the winter maneuvers, and the maneuvers took three full days and nights. We just returned from camp this evening."

"Damn. I should have known it, but where it concerns Messalina, I'm not always rational. It's Gaio again. He's always trying to drive a wedge between me and thee, or between me and anyone else he can think of."

Carl shook his head. What a fool I've been! Gaio has played Iago to my Othello, and I've foolishly fallen for the gambit!

He pulled two chairs closer to the fire and invited Raphael to sit. They drank warm milk while they mulled what to do.

Raphael remembered his conversation with the Jew merchant. "Do you know that Aaron apparently never freed Gaio? He was sent with us to learn medicine, but he's supposed to return to Aaron where he'd still be a slave. The Jew trader in Camulodunum said, 'What a wonderful gift to give to the community, a slave who knows so much medicine.' Something like that."

"But why would he try to get me angry with Rebecca? That doesn't make sense."

Raphael laughed. "Nothing he says makes sense. Do you know he considers Rebecca to be Athena and you to be Apollo? I disabused him of that notion!" Raphael's humor was returning.

"I suppose he might try to provoke something between Rebecca and me so that he could have her himself, farfetched as that seems. In matters like this I'm out of my depth."

"We all are. Gaio is immoral and a born schemer. He has his own logic."

Carl paused for a long time, moving ever closer to the fire. "We can solve this problem easily enough. I'll talk with Rebecca first and then send Gaio back to Aaron, give him an escort so he'll be sure to arrive, although I'd like to string him up in a dungeon, if I believed in such things."

Now Carl's humor was returning. He had been a fool to believe Gaio so readily. "Goodnight Raphael. I think we both have some apologizing to do." He paused. "And thanks for talking it out with me. That took guts."

Raphael nodded.  "Yes, well"—he had picked up Carl's favorite phrase—" I didn't really think you did as Gaio suggested, but Christians have fallen before, and I had to know."