Free Shadows in the Night by Jane Finnis Page A

atmosphere needed lightening, because the tribunes were in a foul mood.
    “Our trackers were useless,” Marius complained. “Couldn’t find any decent game at all, and they were surly and uncooperative all day long. I don’t understand it. Yesterday they were full of the joys, and we caught this brilliant deer.” He cut himself another slice of it, and drank his beaker of wine in one go. “And you didn’t help matters, Junius,” he grumbled.
    “Me? What did I do?”
    “You upset them, losing your temper like that when we got separated.” Marius poured himself more wine. “I know it was annoying when they got you lost like that, but….”
    “ Annoying! Totally pathetic, more like! How can men who call themselves huntsmen get lost in their own woods, I ask you?” He spooned more sauce onto his plate, and chewed thoughtfully in silence for a while. “Actually, I don’t think they did get lost. I had the feeling it was deliberate, some sort of trick to keep us separated, but I can’t think why.”
    “Perhaps,” the army contractor suggested, “there’s some particularly good hunting, an old wild boar or a wolf with cubs, and they want to save it for themselves instead of letting you go after it.”
    “Yes, that’s probably it,” Junius agreed. “Or maybe they think we’re not paying them enough. If we upped their wages a bit…”
    Marius shook his head. “Not likely! Give natives an inch, they’ll take a mile. If they don’t start doing better, we’ll pay them less, not more.”
    They bickered on for a while, and I thought, if they’ve been squabbling all day, I expect their mood will have infected the natives. But gradually the wine relaxed them. Unfortunately before they had completely cheered up, we had to tell them of the two corpses found after last night’s attacks.
    Junius suggested we should post a guard outside overnight, and we agreed Taurus would share the sentry duty with the tribunes’ men. Albia and I agreed to take watches by Quintus Antonius’ bedside. I thought this was pretty good of Albia, as I could guess which bedside she’d rather be heading for.
    Marius left the dining-room straight after the meal; according to Junius he had an assignation with one of the slave-boys. Albia went off to the sick-room, and I went to bed, but I hardly slept. Every little sound had me wide awake and jumpy, and I was dressed and ready when Albia came to call me about halfway through the night.
    I found Quintus Antonius still restless, but a little less noisy. I sat quietly with him through the dark dead hours, and managed to doze fitfully, but even in my sleep I could hear his ragged breathing and incoherent muttering. Then just before dawn I woke up fully when he started moving around in the bed. As I looked at him he turned onto his back, stretched his arms above his head, and opened his eyes.
    “What day is it?” I don’t know what I’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.
    “The Nones of August,” I answered.
    He looked stricken. “Then it’s started. It started two days ago! And I should have been picking up reactions, watching what they did….”
    He tried to get into a sitting position, but couldn’t make it, and sank back onto the pillows. The bedclothes and his tunic were damp with sweat, and he was still flushed-looking; his eyes had lost their glazed stare, but they didn’t seem to focus properly.
    “What happened two days ago?” I asked, automatically tidying up the blankets.
    “The eclipse, of course. You did see the eclipse?”
    “Eclipse? No. What eclipse?”
    “An eclipse of the sun. You must have seen it! The third day of August, late afternoon. A partial eclipse, not total, but the astronomers said it’d be quite a spectacular one. You can’t have missed it, surely.”
    “We must have done.” I tried to remember; but I mean, who remembers the weather two days ago, unless it’s been blowing a gale or raining frogs? “It was cloudy all day, I think.