‘Valerius?’
He heard the question and turned to the slim figure who stood to the right of the little tableau, cloaked in what looked like a shroud. The exhaustion of the past few days had threatened to overwhelm him, but the very sight of her made the blood pound in his veins and he felt a new energy course through him. He wondered that he had not seen her immediately, because she shone out from the drabness around her like the brightest star in the night sky. More careworn, perhaps, than the last time he had seen her, but still with a hypnotic beauty unmatched by any woman he had met.
‘My lady.’ The gentle smile he attempted appeared as a fierce wolf’s grin. ‘I hope you are well.’
The cushioned benches, soft drapes and perfumed oil lamps could have come from another world, but it was being in a room with a ceiling that was most disconcerting after more than three weeks sleeping under the stars.
‘My place is with my uncle.’
It was the third time Domitia had spoken the words and each time with increased emphasis. For the third time, Valerius repeated his argument.
‘To the west, General Gaius Fabius Valens is camped not more than fifty miles away with an army of twenty-five thousand men. To the north, General Aulus Caecina Alienus, with another twenty-five thousand. Soon, probably in less than a week, they will combine somewhere very close to Dertona and prepare to march on Rome …’
‘Unless the Emperor stops them, surely.’
Valerius bowed to acknowledge Prixus Longinus’s intervention. ‘That is true, senator, but you must ask why we have seen no sign of his cavalry. Why Dertona, which has been so loyal, has had no message of reassurance or encouragement. I give you a soldier’s answer. His forces in Italia are not sufficient to defeat either of Vitellius’s armies without reinforcement from the legions of the Balkans and the Danuvius frontier. They are close, I am certain of that, but not close enough yet to intervene in time to save Dertona. You must seek refuge in Placentia, which has stout walls and is prepared for defence. Already Valens’ auxiliaries have crossed the river. They will come for you soon and you will have the choice of surrender or annihilation.’
Prixus flinched and walked to the balcony where the twisting, tree-lined course of the Padus was just visible as a dark line on the horizon.
Domitia raised herself to her full height. ‘Nevertheless, I must stay with my family.’
‘Then we all die.’
In the long pause that followed her eyes pleaded with him for understanding and he remembered again her father’s mantra. A Corbulo does not have the luxury of choice … only duty.
‘No.’
They turned automatically to the figure at the window. Prixus Longinus’s eyes were bright as he addressed Domitia, but his voice remained steady.
‘You must go with your friend.’ He raised a hand as Domitia opened her mouth to protest. ‘In the absence of your husband, I stand here as your guardian, and as such your safety is in my hands. The household will prepare to leave for Placentia within the hour and I will arrange the evacuation of Dertona, but you will accompany Gaius Valerius Verrens.’ He turned to Valerius. ‘I place Domitia Longina Corbulo’s life and her honour in your hands. May you protect both to your last breath.’
Valerius felt Domitia’s eyes on him and his mouth went dry. ‘I pledge it.’
‘What are your intentions?’
‘I will ride to Placentia as soon as the lady Domitia has made her preparations, with word that you are on your way and seeking refuge. If the road is clear we will continue south to meet the Emperor.’
Prixus nodded solemnly and Domitia rushed to her uncle and took his hands in hers. The old man met her gaze with the ghost of a smile. ‘It is for the best, my dear.’
Another woman might have hesitated, but with the decision made Domitia left the room calling for her personal slave, and by the time Valerius had gathered his men she was at the villa’s entrance dressed in a long cloak. Behind her came a house slave carrying two leather bags and Valerius realized that, despite her protests, she must have prepared for this day. She saw his look.
‘I am my father’s daughter,’ she said. ‘A soldier’s daughter.’
Valerius fought the urge to smile. It had been the watchword that sustained her through the long ordeal of thirst and heat in Egypt. She proved the truth of it moments later when her uncle offered her the use of his four-wheeled cart.
‘You will need it for the journey to Placentia,’ she told him. She turned to Valerius. ‘My father ensured I was taught to ride, though it was not thought seemly by some. I am having my horse saddled. A woman’s saddle,’ she added, ‘but you will not be delayed.’