Veleda turned and raked me with a cold glance. 'If I wanted a return of my favour, I would have sent to you as soon as I arrived in Rome.' 'Who did you send to for help then?' I challenged her. She stood straight as a spear. 'I sent to no one.' I smiled thinly. 'No need, of course. There was a young man with a high sense of duty – and strong feelings for you that had never died.

So he wrote to you.' 'If you know that, Falco, then you know I never answered him.' I could not decide whether we were making progress, or just swamping ourselves in pointless talk. Now we were both staring into the lake water.

'I believe you, Veleda. We may be enemies, but in the past we dealt with one another fairly. I told you straight why I came to your domain, and you in turn honourably told me the fate of a man whose death I was investigating. When my companions and I left you, we went with your foreknowledge and approval. We had put our arguments for peace before you; you remained free to choose whether to continue hostile activity against Rome or to be swayed by us.' I meant, swayed by Camillus Justinus, for he had been our spokesman. He was the only one Veleda would listen to.

I dropped my voice. 'So still in the same spirit, Veleda, tell me this: was it you who killed Sextus Gratianus Scaeva?'

The priestess stepped forward half a pace and crouched suddenly at the water's edge. Leaning out, she trailed her slender fingers in the lake. Waves trickled against them as she moved her hand one way and then the other. She looked back at me over her shoulder with angry eyes in a pale face. 'And cut offhis head? And placed it in the stagnant water?' I noticed she spoke as if those had been two distinct actions and that she despised the collected rainwater in the atrium pool. She was clearly aware that blame for the atrocity had been assigned to her. Her voice sounded defiant. 'No, Falco!'

She stood again. Now she was too close to the edge of the lake, her sandalled feet actually in the water. Waves wetted her gown hem. At her flurry of movement, waves even tugged the hem of her long cloak away from her a few inches.

I wanted to ask whether she knew who did commit the murder. But I stopped. I saw from her expression that Veleda had noticed something. I glanced behind. Walking down the shore towards us, unhurried but with purpose, came Helena Justina: Helena my wife, the extremely protective sister ofVeleda's one-time Roman lover.

XLIX

As always, as soon as Helena came near enough, our eyes met and I smiled a private greeting. Jacinthus was shadowing her, looking pleased with himself as a bodyguard, but there was no sign of our two other companions, Albia and Claudia. 'Finished?' 'Unsatisfactory. ' 'Claudia?' 'Waiting at the carriage. A little upset.' I saw no reason for that, unless Claudia Rufina was irritated that the priests at the shrine refused to hand over Veleda to be tom to pieces by Justinus' raging bride. Still, it was highly convenient to avoid a confrontation with Veleda at this sensitive stage. 'Albia stayed with her. Who is your friend, Marcus?' 'Introductions – Veleda, this is my wife, Helena Justina.' Helena went right up to her and grasped her hand formally. 'I was hoping to meet you. Can you understand me?'

'I speak your language!' declaimed Veleda, in the crushing tones she liked to use when proclaiming her knowledge of Latin. It had impressed me the first time. Now she and Ganna were overplaying the act. 'I believe I knew your brother,' stated the priestess then, in belligerent mode.

At that, Helena leaned forward unexpectedly, embraced the other woman and kissed her cheek as if they were sisters. Veleda looked startled. 'Then thank you for what I know you did five years ago to return my two men back to me.'

Released from the embrace, Veleda could only shrug. The motion had disturbed her cloak. Now I saw that below it she wore Roman clothing. Her ears had piercing-holes, but no ear-rings. If she had had to sell her treasures, that was good. I wanted her to be without resources. No jewellery glinted at her slender throat – though I did see she wore a soapstone amulet, carved with a magic eye.

I knew that. It had been given to me by a friendly quartermaster at Vetera, who pitied me for my suicidal mission into Free Germany. Later, I had tucked the thing around Justinus' neck, when he went alone to see the priestess in her tower. He had come out alive, though the amulet had not protected him from misery. Our young hero had carried loss with him wherever he went after that night. I always thought he must have given away the mystical token as a love-gift. Now I was sure. Veleda, presumably, had worn it ever since for the same reason.

Helena was watching me; she had seen me scrutinise Veleda's ornament. In the swift way she had, she turned to the priestess and asked the direct question: 'Will you return to Rome with us?' 'Do I have any choice?' snapped Veleda. Helena remained patient, her tone courteous and tinged with dry wit. 'Well, you will have to give up your flight, you know. Your choice is either to come willingly and have us help you if we can – or to be very efficiently carried back by my husband. You may know that although he is charming and can be a sensitive companion, he is brutally practical. Marcus Didius will be undeterred by priests' protests or a woman s screams.

'I imagine that would add to his sense of importance,' Veleda scoffed, joining in the humour. I could not tell if these women were forming a friendship, though I knew they had assessed one another as high quality opponents. 'How could you help me?' For a woman of mystery, Veleda could be quite direct. 'I really don't know,' admitted Helena, ever frank herself 'But I can promise to try.' 'Is she good?' Veleda then asked me, with a hint of true amusement in her eyes.

'Superb. You can trust her to get the best bargain in the marketplace – if any bargain is available for you. But I suppose you know how bleak it looks.'

'Oh yes!' replied Veleda in a drab tone. 'I know what happens. When the magnificent Vercingetorix was captured and brought to Rome by Julius Caesar, he was kept in a deep pit for five years – then paraded, derided and executed.'

'Crude,' I said. 'But didn't you admit to me that a Roman legate who had been captured by your people was first earmarked as a gift to you and in fact died horrendously – tortured, garrotted and drowned in a bog?' Stalemate. Veleda made no comment. 'Generals still have their Triumphs,' I told her. 'Your prospects are grim. Simon, the scapegoat for the war in Judaea, died on the Capitol only a few years ago to enhance Vespasian's glory.' 'Cleopatra and Boudicca cheated your crowds their own way,' thepriestess reminded me. 'Don't expect me to bring you asps in a basket of figs.' 'Do you know Rutilius Gallicus?' she asked. 'He wants fame and high position. He invaded Germania Libera and captured me so my sordid death can give him an honoured life.' 'I do know him. Clearly he has upped his expectations of personal reward. He was a mediocrity when I met him.'

'I did no wrong,' Veleda said, not interested in Rutilius or my assessment of him. 'I fought for my people. I hate Rome for stealing our land and our heritage.'

It was Helena who agreed and sympathised. 'Your society is as fine as ours. Before Rome imposed itself on mainland Europe, the Celtic empire flourished just as strongly as our own does now. You had magnificent art, skilled metalworking, networks of roads, gold coinage -' It was the gold we went for, naturally. They could keep their naturalistic art; we preferred to steal design ideas from Greece. Our great men wanted their fat faces glittering on golden money. 'y ou enjoyed trade throughout the known world,' Helena continued. This was our way in interviews; she was tolerant and fair, I was the rude bastard. 'You were moral, civilised people with a rich spiritual culture where women were respected, children, the old and the sick or disadvantaged well cared for -' While the men were drunken braggarts, as famous for starting fights as for collapsing or dispersing in disorder before a war finished. 'You may well ask,' said Helena, 'why should our nation take precedence? And I have no explanation.' 'I do.' I spoke levelly. 'Face it, Veleda. It is our time now.' 'You said that before, Falco.' 'And you did not believe me. But since then, as I have heard, the Bructeri, your tribe, have turned against you. Now here you are, a captive in a foreign land, ill, penniless, without supporters, on the run – and in dire need of assistance. Your one good fortune is that here are two people, who both owe you a great deal, offering you help.'