“Agreed.”

“And leave that sphere and the console shut off while I’m sleeping.” He turned his attention to the food containers again. “What did you bring me? I’m starved.”

By midday, Marcus had reached the bank of the river with his guest and her slave. He had explained to her that a man wandering lost in the forest would seek water. Jane had agreed and so they had ridden to the river. Damp from the light but steady downpour from the gray skies, they had huddled under some trees for a cold noonday meal before riding on.

While they moved down the river, the Roman legions were marching deeper into the forest on the governor’s business. Marcus knew their route and roughly how far the legions would go in one day through the rugged mountains. Late in the day, he planned to locate their camp in order to rejoin them.

Marcus led Jane and her slave downstream, keeping a close lookout for footprints near the water. He also kept sneaking glances at Jane, whom he found extremely attractive, though the hood of her cloak hid her face unless she turned to look directly at him. If he could find her lost friend, she might be grateful; at the very least, it would make a good impression on her. He had never known a woman from Gaul, however, and conversation with her was difficult. She was polite, but reluctant to answer questions about her life in Gaul.

In the middle of the afternoon, Marcus reined in by the bank. “I have a number of footprints here,” he said, pointing to the ground. “One set is quite large. Another is very small and barefoot, and two more are of average size. One is wearing the leather boots of a German warrior.” The edges of the tracks had been blunted and blurred by the rain, but the outlines were still complete.

Jane rode up to look. Then she looked back over her shoulder at her slave. “What do you think?”

Her slave rode up to join them and examined the footprints. Then he pointed to the trail the tracks made back into the forest. “I think the small ones are MC 3, all right.”

“So some people are with him,” said Marcus. “At least one German is among them.”

“Or he’s being followed,” said Jane, looking pointedly at Steve.

Marcus did not understand the meaning of that look.

“Or it’s a coincidence,” said Steve. “Maybe they all just wanted some water.”

“In any case, we have his trail,” said Marcus. “We can follow him from here.”

“Good,” said Jane. “How old do you think the tracks are?”

“No older than yesterday,” said Marcus. “Otherwise the rain would have washed them out completely by now.”

She glanced at her slave again, who nodded agreement.

“The horses need a rest and a drink of water. We’ll rest here before we leave the river.” Marcus dismounted and dropped his reins to the ground. His mount moved to the river and began to drink

“All right.” Jane brought her mount to a jerky halt. “I could use another break.”

“May I?” Marcus moved to her side and held out his arms.

“Yes, thank you.”

As she dismounted, he caught her gently and eased her to the ground, as he done on their earlier stops.

“We have company,” said her slave, remaining on horseback. He nodded toward the forest.

Marcus turned to look. A party of young German warriors was emerging from the trees, led by a young blond man with a barrel chest and short arms and legs, wearing the usual furs of his people. Marcus realized suddenly that he had not been paying adequate attention to the birds in the forest; they would have revealed the presence of people moving toward the river from another direction. Anxiously, he watched the Germans approach.

The strangers were merely walking toward them, neither running nor fanning out to trap them against the river. Still, as a precaution, he offered a leg up to Jane again, who mounted without a word. Then he took the reins of his own horse again and mounted.

“Hail, Roman,” called the leader of the Germans in Latin. He stopped, holding up his free hand, and his companions stopped also.

“Hail, friend,” said Marcus. “I am called Julius in your language. We are of the Cherusci tribe. Who are you?”

“I am Tribune Marcus Gaius Aemilianus.”

“You are a long way from the Roman legions here, Tribune,” said Julius.

“Yes, we are,” said Marcus. “Are you out on a hunt today? How has your luck run so far?”

“We are not hunting so hard today,” said Julius, with a crooked smile. “We have been visiting with friends in other villages. Maybe tomorrow we shall go hunting in earnest. But how about yourself? This is a poor, wet day to go for a ride along the river with a lady.”

“We are searching for a lost stranger,” said Marcus. “A small fellow, touched by the gods.”

Julius frowned. “Apparently this is a good day for such a search.” He raised his hand in farewell. “Good day, Roman.” He turned and led his men back toward the trees.

“Farewell, Julius.” Marcus watched them go, puzzled by their visit.

“What do you think they wanted?” Jane rode up next to him. “They didn’t really say anything.”

“I don’t know for certain,” said Marcus. “However, the Cherusci do not just go out for long walks without a reason. If I had to guess, I would say they are watching to see if I am carrying some sort of message. I think we had better rejoin the legions. I apologize, but it’s important for your own safety.”

“Of course.”

Marcus turned his mount to go back the way they had come. Then he reined up in surprise. Steve was nowhere in sight.