But ... in the past few weeks, a word here, a comment there. "My people's land surrounds a sacred, hidden valley embraced by two small rivers that form half-moons. In the heart of this valley lies a sacred grove of oak trees, where it is said the goddess Freya wept red-gold tears." And another time, proudly, "My tribe are warriors."

     Now, recalling her reaction to news of Commander Vatinius being inColonia, Sebastianus wondered: was it her people who were behind the new uprising? Were they the rebels Vatinius had been sent to vanquish once and for all?

     And were those insurgents at that moment camped in the hidden valley Ulrika had spoken of?

     Sebastianus rose to his feet, carefully considering his next words as new thoughts formed in his mind. "Old friend," he said to Timonides, "this great thing you speak of that lies in my path—could it be that I am about to meet someone very important?"

     Timonides hesitated. What in the name of Great Zeus was his master talking about? The old Greek had no idea, but there was suddenly a look of hope, even excitement in his master's eyes, and so Timonides said, "Yes, yes, that is it," eagerly bobbing his head, hating himself for the lie, the sacrilege. But he had no choice. And if the gods struck him dead in that moment, he would not blame them. "You are about to meet someone very important who will change your life."

     Sebastianus felt his blood suddenly run hot with excitement. It could only be Gaius Vatinius, commander of six legions! For who was more important in this region than he? And I have precious information to give him. I know where the Barbarian insurgents are headquartered!

     With such information, Sebastianus knew, General Vatinius would be assured a victory. And Emperor Claudius would grant a handsome reward to the man who had brought it about. The imperial diploma to China.

     I will ride north immediately and inform the General of a hidden valley embraced within two half-moon rivers ...

     ULRIKA HASTILY BOUND HER HAIR up in ribbons and reached for her travel packs. She decided she was not going to wait for Colonia. She must leave now. Vatinius was already here, and she alone knew of the secret trap he planned to set for her people.

     Slipping out of her nightdress, she chose a practical traveling gown ofplain white cotton with a matching palla, and as she dressed she thought of the myriad small vessels she had observed on the Rhine, local merchants plying their trade up and down the river under the eye of the Roman galleys. Ulrika spoke the dialect and had enough coins, she knew, to bribe one of them to carry her to the other side.

     As she wrapped bread and cheese in cloths, she thought of Sebastianus Gallus. She should let him know that she was leaving the caravan this morning. But then she realized he might not allow her to leave, might even assign a guard to her to see that she stayed safely in his charge until he delivered her to Colonia—as per their agreement.

     Saying a mental farewell to him, doubting she would see him again, Ulrika stepped out of her tent and headed for the Rhine.

9

SHE WAS LOST.

     Ulrika had been walking for days, following the map, trying to recall the details her mother had told her long ago—so many small rivers shaped like half-moons!—and now she was deep in the forest eastward of the Rhine, and she had no idea where she was.

     When Ulrika had made her way down to the Rhine, she had been able to bribe a boatman to take her across to the other side. And during the crossing, she had asked him if there was news of Vatinius and his legions, but the boatman had spoken quickly, his accent unfamiliar to Ulrika, so that she had garnered only bits and pieces.

     One thing she did know: a major battle was about to take place.

     But where?

     She scanned the sunlit forest, where firs and oaks cast dark shadows, and birds called from overhead branches, and the silence was broken by the occasional snap of a twig, reminding Ulrika that creatures were watching her. Hungry creatures ...

     Where was she? As she had headed eastward from the river, leaving civilization behind, she had encountered fewer and fewer people until now she was alone in the deep woods, armed only with a dagger and inner fortitude. She knew she was moving in a northeasterly direction, but to where precisely, she no longer knew. Unlike in the city of Rome, there were no signposts in this wilderness.

     She was dreading spending another night in this hostile terrain. Although the summer solstice lay just two weeks away and the days were warming up, the nights were cold. Ulrika had slept in hollows stuffed with leaves, against logs, and in the protection of boulders, wrapped in her palla and praying that tomorrow she would find her father. Her food was gone. Her dress was torn, her sandals falling apart. And now she trekked wearily through a forest that looked the same as the forest the day before, and the day before that.

     With each gnarled root that caused her to trip, each thorny bush that snagged her skirt, each owl that screeched and each shadow that menaced, Ulrika felt herself drawing closer to tears. She had thought that the land of her ancestors would feel like home. After years of not knowing where she belonged, of feeling like an outsider, even in the house she shared with her mother in Rome, Ulrika had been so certain that Germania would feel safe and familiar and comfortable. Instead, this wild, unpredictable forest frightened her.

     She was appalled at her naïveté. How could she have thought it would be so simple to find her father, when all the experienced spies and agents that made up Caesar's intelligence network could not?

     She paused to lean against a tree and catch her breath. The sun was directly overhead. How many hours of daylight were left before she had to find a safe place to spend the night? Should I turn back? Do I even know the way back?

     The map, purchased from a cartographer in Lugdunum who had hawked his wares from a booth in the marketplace, guaranteeing "the latest precise geographic details," had proven useless. Rivers and streams indicated on the map did not exist, while those Ulrika had drunk from were not drawn at all. As for the valley between two half-moon rivers—she could have already passed through it without knowing it.

     She wished belatedly that she had not snuck out of the caravan camp, that she had at least told Timonides where she was going. Instead, when she had packed her bags and was ready to travel, she had made sure no one saw her as she made her way down to the riverbank. Were Sebastianus Gallus and the Greek astrologer worried about her at this moment? Or did Gallus assume she had gone in search of her family? Was Sebastianus Gallus at that moment in Colonia, resting up for the return trip to Rome?

     Is he even thinking about me?

     Ulrika was not surprised that the Galician should appear in her thoughts, in this place and at this time, because she had dreamed about him every night since leaving the camp.

     Reminding herself of her mission, and that time was growing dangerously short, she paused to listen to the forest and imagined the thousands of troops wheeling war machines into place, officers riding to and fro shouting commands, foot soldiers and cavalry being positioned into columns and lines. She knew that the battle would begin with the release of missile weapons—javelins, crossbows, and spears.