Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [142]
His assessment was, for once, realistic.
“He’s still a good catch for my daughter,” he considered.
Indeed, even in disgrace, Porteus was certainly as good a match as Maeve was likely to encounter in the backwater of Sorviodunum.
“With a different governor, or with the procurator’s help, he could still go far,” the Celt deduced. “And in any case, my grandchildren would be born Roman citizens. Then who knows what they might achieve!”
“I think that young Roman could be a good match for you,” he had told Maeve two days before the feast, and she had smiled quietly and replied: “I think so too.”
During the winter months, Porteus himself made two journeys to Calleva and one to Londinium in the hope that he might see Classicianus; but again the procurator had been absent and his hope of improving his position had to be shelved. It was on the day before he left Londinium that he had a painful experience. As he came out of a small inn, he heard the crash of horses’ hoofs on the cobblestones, and looking up, he saw Suetonius and a cavalcade of twenty staff officers trotting straight towards him. He was standing alone. Neither the governor, nor the riders, many of whom he knew, could fail to see him, and a moment later he found himself staring straight into the angry eyes of the governor himself.
Suetonius did not pause, did not avert his gaze, or even scowl: he looked straight into the eyes of the young man as he passed, and gave no sign of recognition at all. His face was as blank as if Porteus had not been there. The officers following, observing the governor’s behaviour, were careful not to look at him at all.
The next day, Porteus returned to Sorviodunum.
By the spring, he could already predict a modest increase in the output from the estate, and by the following year he was sure the yields would improve enormously.
“But by then, if the gods favour me, I shall no longer be here,” he thought.
Several times during the long, cold months, Tosutigus took him hunting in the woods. They hunted both deer and the boar. And on each occasion their hunting brought them to a point near the chiefs farm where Maeve would be waiting with a meal, accompanied by mulled ale and the heady island mead.
On these occasions, the older man would gently draw the young Roman out on the subject of his plans for the future, and from the little that Porteus let fall, it was clear to the chief that his position had not changed.
Soon after midwinter, a letter came from Marcus.
I am afraid, my dear Porteus; that things in Rome are not going well for you at present. Graccus as you may suppose, was furious that you fell out with Suetonius. The rumour here is that after the commission of enquiry, the governor will be retired from Britannia at a convenient time, but that he will leave with honour. The emperor is in no mood to disgrace him, and will do nothing for his enemies. Frankly, you are well out of things here.
The letter gave no news of Lydia; but Porteus told himself that since Graccus was furious, she had probably been forbidden to write to him herself, and that Marcus was probably being tactful by making no mention of her.
He did not despair. He redoubled his efforts.
“By the end of summer,” he vowed, “I’ll return to Rome with honour.”
Marcus’s information was accurate. Soon after his letter arrived, news came to Sorviodunum that Suetonius had returned to Rome with honour and that he had been replaced by a new governor – Publius Petronius Turpilianus – who was reputed to be a milder man. He hoped to hear some word from the new governor, and sent him a respectful letter of welcome to remind him of his existence. But no word came.
The summer was fine and a bumper crop was expected. He felt some pride, at least, in his achievement on the estate.
Then, just before midsummer, a message