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Trade caravans accepted independent travelers as long as they paid well and could take care of themselves. The protection of large caravans was the safest way to travel, whether on business or to visit relatives or just casual tourism. Sebastianus himself had that morning accepted a group of brothers heading to Masilia to attend a wedding. They had their own carriage and were paying handsomely for the safe escort.
Sebastianus studied the object of the competition between Arab and Syrian—a woman. Young, he deduced, from her slender body and bearing. And judging by the rich fabric of her dress, and the palla draped over her head, wealthy. Yet there seemed to be no personal slaves accompanying her, no bodyguards. More curious still, she carried bundles on her shoulders, as well as a waterskin and food bag. A young woman traveling alone? Surely she was not going far, to the next village perhaps.
As the two greedy traders fought over her like dogs over a bone, Sebastianus returned to his troubled thoughts and the reason for his urgency to depart. It had nothing to do with his regular commerce along the Rhine. Sebastianus Gallus was in a race to reach the farthest ends of the earth, where it was rumored that ships sailed over the edge and horses galloped into frothy mists, never to be seen again.
Sebastianus was in a race to win the coveted imperial diploma to escort a caravan to distant China. And what made him anxious on this spring morning filled with noise and smoke and sunshine was that he was competing against four other traders, men personally known to him as good, solid citizens who traded fairly and deserved the China route as much as he did. But Emperor Claudius was going to award the diploma to only one man.
Each trader was to complete his regular trade route while at the same time distinguishing himself in some endeavor. Sebastianus knew that his four competitors were going to succeed in making themselves stand out in Claudius's eyes. Badru the Egyptian had struck south for Africa, taking cheap clothes and trinkets to exchange for tortoise shell and ivory, and Sebastianusknew that Badru had the opportunity to bring back a rare beast for the arena. Sahir the Hindu was on his way to the southeast to pick up perfume and incense and was likely to find priceless books for the emperor. Adon the Phoenician was heading to Spain with pepper and cloves and would no doubt pick up vintage wine that Claudius had a specific taste for. And Gaspar the Persian, whose trade route carried him into the Zagros Mountains, would surely find a fabled rare flower with powerful aphrodisiac properties (everyone knew how desperate Claudius was to please his young wife, Agrippina). But Sebastianus Gallus the Spaniard was following his usual northward route to trade for amber and pewter, salt and fur. What could he find in the Rhineland that would catch Emperor Claudius's eye and persuade him to award Gallus the coveted diploma?
What troubled him further was the rumor that Roman legions, under the command of Gaius Vatinius, were marching north to engage renegade Barbarians in a major battle. Although war could be good for business, in this case it could hurt Sebastianus's chances to win the diploma.
He glanced impatiently at Timonides, who was trying to apply a copper protractor to a zodiacal chart, but with little success. Sebastianus wondered if he should seek the services of another astrologer. Time was slipping through his fingers!
Gallus was eager to make a name for himself. His father and grandfather and uncles had all carved new trade routes, distinguishing themselves, adding prestige to the already noted and respected Gallus family. Now Sebastianus wanted to prove himself by securing the China route for Emperor Claudius. It was the last unknown frontier, the last chance to carve a new route while at the same time earning the singular distinction of being the first man from the west to reach the imperial palace in China.
"I will take you all the way to Colonia! This man does not go beyond Lugdunum, he will abandon you there! I have a nice carriage, only three other passengers inside!"
At the sound of Hashim's barking voice, Sebastianus turned in surprise. The young lady was going all the way to Colonia?
He watched as Kaptah busily worked his abacus, a portable calculating device made of copper and beads, used by merchants, engineers, bankers, and tax collectors. The stocky Syrian was tallying the girl's fare by mile andfood, throwing in extra fees here and there for water, the use of a donkey, even a place by the nightly campfire.
"Robbery!" shouted Hashim, his swarthy face turning purple. "Dear lady, with me you will not ride on a donkey but in a cart, and for that I will charge you only a slightly higher fee."
The young woman looked from one to the other in confusion, and when they saw her turn to the right, to glance down the row of tents and compounds that were all collected under a dusty sign that said GERMANIA INFERIOR, they both started talking at once, declaring that all other traders heading north would gouge her for every cent she had and then sell her to the Barbarians as a slave.
Seeing that the girl was at the mercy of these two vultures, both of whom Gallus knew very well—unscrupulous to the marrow, each of them—he spoke up. "My brothers!" he said congenially, striding up. "I have always noticed that the louder you both get, the bigger your lies."
He turned to the young lady and, before he could say another word, received a shock. As she turned to him, he glimpsed beneath the modest veil light-colored hair and blue eyes. She was holding a corner of her veil up to her chin, as Roman girls were taught, never to fully cover the face, but giving the effect of being ready to cover should the situation call for it. Sebastianus stared at the oval face drawing down to a delicately pointed chin, arched brows, small nose. But what arrested him most were her eyes.
He was momentarily speechless as he was remembering the time he had visited the famed Blue Grotto of Capri. Her eyes were the color of that lagoon.
"These men are not to be trusted," he said with a smile, casting the two men a warning glance when they started to protest. "They are rogues—lovable—but rogues all the same. If you wish, I can help you find an honest trader who will see to your safe passage to where you are going. What is your destination?" he asked, thinking that surely he had heard wrong.
But she replied, "Colonia," and he heard a confident tone, a strong voice, and then he looked around again for her companions. Perhaps they had yet to arrive, most likely because they had so much baggage to bring along for the wealthy young lady.
"How many are in your party?" he asked.
Ulrika looked up into the face of the stranger who had come to her aid. He stood a head taller than herself, the morning sun catching bronze highlights in his hair. He had a strong jaw, a straight and narrow nose, with a beard that was so closely cropped it was barely more than a shadow on his chin. Ulrika suspected he was not Roman because his Latin was lightly accented, as if it were not his mother tongue. Then she saw, lying upon his broad chest, suspended on a leather thong and resting against the white linen of his knee-length tunic, a scallop shell the size of her hand. She recognized it as a mollusk known to proliferate along the northwestern shore of Spain, and she had heard that Galicians wore these shells to remind them of home, and to show pride in their race and heritage.
She wondered briefly about this Spaniard. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if a problem had entered his head long ago and had yet to be solved. Not a man at peace with himself, she thought, or with the world. Impressions rushed at her: although his smile was easy, he was angry, but at whom or what she could not guess; his gaze was open, but he gave the impression of being guarded; and despite his relaxed stance, he seemed to be holding himself tightly, as if afraid of losing control. Had something—or someone—hurt him long ago?