The Shadowy Horses

Brian broke in. "Can you see her name, lad?" To me, he explained: "He can sometimes pick up names and all."

Robbie fingered the pendant, screwing up his face as he tried to come up with the answer. "It starts with a 'C, I think ... C-l ... here, I can write it out." Taking my pencil he scrawled in large letters across the open page of my notebook.

I read the name. "Claudia?"

"Aye."

Brian flicked ash into the sink, where it fell with a whispering hiss. "And the name of the Sentinel, Robbie? D'you know that as well?"

"It's a long name," said Robbie. "Hold on." Closing his eyes, he stayed silent a full minute, thinking. "Three names. The middle one's the same as her name, like ..."

"What, Claudius?" I asked, and he opened his eyes.

"Aye. And then Maxy... Maxy-moose ..."

"Maximus." I jotted it down with remarkably steady fingers. "And the first name?"

"It starts with a 'C,' too. It's ... no, I can't get it. It's gone. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I told him. "You're doing just fine. This is brilliant." I looked at the name in my notebook: C. Claudius Maximus. No longer a nebulous ghost, but a name. It gave me an odd feeling.

"Claudia and Claudius," Brian said dryly. "Devoted couple, were they?"

She wouldn't be his wife, I thought. Not his legal wife, at any rate. A legionary couldn't marry until he retired from the army. Still, common-law wives weren't unheard of—soldiers sometimes had whole families living in the towns outside their forts.

I was about to ask Robbie whether Claudia had been the Sentinel's girlfriend, when a new thought struck me. Claudia and Claudius. That was the Sentinel's second name, Robbie had said. His clan name. Romans named their children according to a fairly rigid custom: an individual first name, then the clan name, and finally the family name. Thus only the first names varied, in a family. C. Claudius Maximus— say his first name was Caius, or something like that—Caius Claudius Maximus might have a brother named Publius Claudius Maximus. And their sisters would most probably be called by just their clan name, in its female form. Claudia.

I looked across at Robbie. “Was this Claudia ... was she related to the Sentinel?"

His brow creased. "Related?"

"From the same family."

"Oh. Aye, she was his sister."

The kettle screamed and Brian moved to make the tea, his eyes meeting mine with a grudging amusement. "Full points for you."

Robbie moved his ringers, held the pendant tighter. "She had long hair," he told me. "Long like yours, and the same color."

In the brief silence that followed, Brian voiced the question I was too afraid to ask. It must have crossed his own thoughts, after what had happened yesterday. "Does Miss Grey mind the Sentinel of his sister, then?''

"Aye." No hesitation there. "He loves her."

I kept my attention fixed on Robbie, my pencil resting on the page. "And she gave him that pend ... that necklace?"

"Nah, she gave it to the other guy," said Robbie. "For luck, like. So he wouldn't be hurt."

"She gave it to the other... ?"

"Aye, the Sentinel's friend." Robbie looked at me as though the details were self-evident. “The one she was going to marry."

"Ah."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "Christ, it's better than East Enders, this."

My ten minutes, I thought, must surely be up, but Brian appeared to be gaining interest in our little game, and made no move to stop it. He turned his back to the sink and waited for the tea to brew, watching while his son rolled the pendant and chain in his small hand, like dice.

"He was a soldier, too," said Robbie, finally.

"The Sentinel's friend?" I asked.

"Aye. He was older, and he kent a lot of things. He said the ship would come. He said ..." He paused, his small face falling. "Only it didn't. And then the horses came, and the Sentinel had to put him on the fire."

Enthralled, I leaned forward. "Why, Robbie? Why did he put him on the fire?"

But the mists through which he viewed these things had swirled again, and Robbie shook his head. "Sorry," he said, looking up, and I was shocked to see his eyes were filled with tears. "He's so sorry. He promised her that he'd protect... but he couldn't. He couldn't stop it."

I watched, concerned, as a single tear traced a crooked path down one small freckled cheek. "Robbie, it's all right, you needn't—"

"Claudia," he whispered, quite as if I hadn't spoken, and his face collapsed in anguish. "So sorry, Claudia."

"Right." Brian pitched his spent cigarette into the sink and pushed himself away from the counter, his eyes wary. "That's enough, I think."

I nodded agreement. Stretching out my hand for the pendant, I sent the boy a bright smile. "That's wonderful, Robbie, you've been a great help. I'll just take this back up to the finds room, now ..."

"No!" It was a violent, unexpected response, almost a shout, and even Brian looked startled.

"Now, lad ..."

Robbie ignored him, fixing me with an imploring gaze. "This can't go in the finds room. It's for protection. You don't understand."

"Robbie—"