Free Gallicenae by Poul Anderson

yourself?”
    Despite foreknowing he was somehow in danger, Gratillonius felt as if clubbed. “Sir?” Breath sobbed into him. He braced his knees, gave Maximus eye for eye, and declared, “My lord, I have served you and Rome to the best of my ability. Who’s spoken ill of me?”
    Maximus straightened and clipped, “Your own men, Centurion, your own men. Do you call them liars? Do you deny having trafficked with Satan?”
    “What? Sir—my lord—I don’t understand. My men—”
    “Silence.” Maximus nodded at a pinch-lipped person in a drab tunic. “Calvinus, read the report.”
    That one took up a set of papers and began what soon became a singsong, like a chant to his God. It developed that he was high in the Imperial secret service. His agents were everywhere, in every walk of life, with instructions to keep alert for anything the least suspicious and follow it up until they had sufficient clues to warrant full investigation. As if across a sea, Gratillonius heard how his legionaries, innocently talking in barracks and around town, had spoken of him. There wasno need to interrogate any of them; all were ready to boast about their leader and about the wonders of Ys.
    Gratillonius heard how he, in a pagan ceremony where the images of devils were brought forth, had wedded nine women who were avowed witches. He heard how he had accepted and openly borne the emblems of a sea demon and a demon of the air. He had sent forth a spirit in the form of a bird to spy upon his enemies. He had ordered magic to raise a storm. He had betrodden an island that was from time immemorial the site of the blackest sorcery—
    Courtiers shivered and made signs against malevolence. Lips moved in whispered prayer. The squad that had taken Gratillonius kept martial stiffness, but sweat came forth; he saw it, he smelled it.
    At the end, Maximus leaned forward. “You have heard the charges,” he said. “You must realize their gravity, and the necessity we are under of finding the truth. Sorcery is a capital offense. The powers of darkness have reached into the very Church; and you are a defiant unbeliever, who bears upon himself the mark of it.”
    What mark? He had left the Key of the gate behind in Ys, as being too vital to risk anywhere else. He’d grown a beard there, but it was close-cropped like a Roman’s. He did wear his hair in Ysan male style, long, caught at the nape to fall down in a tail…. He clawed out of his bewilderment and thought Maximus must refer to the brand of Mithraic initiation on his brow, though it had faded close to invisibility and—and Mithraists were loyal Romans.
    “You may speak,” the Emperor said.
    Gratillonius squared his shoulders. “Sir, I’ve practiced no wizardry. Why, I wouldn’t know how. The Duke—the Augustus always knew what my religion is, and it doesn’t deal in magic. They believe differently in Ys, true. Well, given my job, how could I keep from showing respect to their Gods? I did—I did ask help from whatever powers they might have, but that was against barbarians who menaced Rome. As for that time on Sena, the island Sena, I wasn’t supposed to set foot on it, but my wife—a wife of mine was dying there—” His throat locked on him. His eyes blurred and stung.
    “You may be honest.” Maximus’s tone was steady; and did it hold a slight note of regret? “We had cause for confidence in you, and therefore entrusted you with your mission. But if nothing else, you may have been seduced by the Evil One. We must find out. God be praised, now that the Priscillianus matter nears an end, we have had a chance to hear this news of you. And we have given it prompt consideration as much for your sake—Gratillonius, who did serve valiantly on the Wall—as for Rome’s. We will pray that you be purged of sin, led to the Light, saved from perdition.” Abruptly the old military voice rang forth. “If you remain a soldier, obey your orders!”
    He issued instructions. The squad led