Sentence The Sixhundredandtwentythird

 

Her eyelids twitched, flickered and then opened, she saw a pale blue sky above and wondered where on earth she could be; she remembered a room with a group of men sitting and lounging on sofas, facing her, and then nothing; she wondered what on earth had happened, then became aware of a severe pain in the right side of her neck and another on the top of her head; gingerly she touched with her hands and felt the blood which had trickled from her right ear and a cut on her scalp, but could not account for it; slowly she pushed her body up until she was sitting, and found herself on a hillside, looking down on fields which showed remarkable patterns of cereology, great flattened circles, radiating arms and smaller roundels, and she looked about herself in all directions, recognising a familiar view, familiar but very different from what she supposed was memory and just then a satori moment and she knew, abso-bloody-lutely where but not when: she was on the high shoulder of the Eildon Hills, which links the North and Mid Hills, the highest of the three and she was facing west, towards Cauldshiels Hill in the distance, but where were the familiar buildings which should stand closer, following Dingleton Hill from the Market Square up to the site of the old hospital? where was the Golf Club, there should be flags dotted about on greens? and that was when she heard the sound of a horse, moving at a canter behind her and she slowly turned, afraid that a sudden jerk would send a blinding pain through her brain, but the sight she saw threw her brain into melt-down: the man was dressed as a Roman soldier, legionnaire or centurion or whatever, she could not process the visual information, but he had seen her and was guiding his mount in her direction

she tried to roll over, to make standing easier, but instead, tumbled on to her side; soon firm but careful hands helped her on to her knees and then pulled her up onto her feet: she was looking into a fairly young, weather-beaten, but finely modelled face, under a huge helmet which rose to a plume, blowing in the wind, and the face seemed concerned for her; but she had known enough men to never take them at face value, the kindest and gentlest could as easily belong to a brutal rapist or, and it was a flash of memory from somewhere, a child abuser; the man was speaking to her and, it was so weird, for although she had learned some at school she had since forgotten most but he was speaking in Latin yet somehow she knew exactly what he was saying, "if this is one of those re-enactment shows, they must have a very advanced translation thing going," flashed through her mind and she automatically touched her ears with her fingers, but no buds, so how was it done, and now he was asking if she was injured, he could see the blood that had come from her ear, and again reflexively, she touched her ear and just above her forehead, he leaned closer and saw the dried blood amongst her blonde hair, and was speaking again, this time she listened: "Marcus Gaius Vulpecula, the Paladin
of Emperor Marcus Aurelius Augustus, visiting Trimontium, would you like one of the physicians to examine your injuries," and she looked up the hill, towards the signalling station which she could now see and recognise, "did someone attack you, or was it an accidental fall?" and this time she too was speaking in Latin: "yes, I was struck here," indicating the side of her neck, "but I don't think I remember about this one," and she hesitated to take his offer: "would it be safe for me in a camp full of legionnaires?" she asked, and he stood straighter, slightly taller than her, the very figure of rectitude. and there was pride in his voice now, perhaps slightly wounded that she should doubt her safety in his care: "you are a noble Lady," he said, "and under my protection none would dare molest you," and she smiled back at his simplicity and pride: "then, Imperial Paladin Marcus Gaius Vulpecula, sir, the Lady, Christiane Lauderdale, has no hesitation in gratefully accepting your kind invitation," thinking to herself, "I don't know what the fuck's going on here but I might as well enjoy it while I can!" and so they started to walk slowly, with Marcus leading his horse by the bridle, and he asked her how she had come to be injured: "oh, it was dreadful," she recalled with a shudder and a break in her voice, "my husband and I were on a hegira, his brother had defrauded him of his inheritance and burned us out of our house, so it was not safe to remain and we were travelling to visit kinsfolk north of here when our three slaves conspired and attacked us, several days ago, they first slew my husband and would have slain me but I managed to beat them off – I gave the leader a knuckle sandwich which knocked out several teeth, the next I kicked hard in the balls, he won't be having any children and the third I gave a Glasgow kiss, which is probably what cut my head, though I fancy it broke his nose, and then I ran and ran and ran without stopping except when the light faded and I found cover in the undergrowth and at first light, carried on running, though it's not my favourite sport," and Marcus saw a twinkle in her eye, and fancied the hint of a smile about her lips,
despite the trauma she was reliving, and she continued, "and I have no recollection of how nor why I came up here, probably just wanting to be able to see if they were following me, but pray, sir, I am probably concussed and can't remember the day or even year, can you tell me?" she asked, her lovely open face showing her confusion and Marcus gazed with admiration on this Amazon Princess he had had the good fortune to discover, "why yes, my Lady, this is the First day of Junius in the year 916 Ab Urbe Condita, the First Year of the Two Emperors, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Aurelius," and she nodded, evidently relieved to have her memory restored and he registered the gratitude in her eyes; Marcus had been abstemious for some time, not wishing to delay his journey by longer stops for refreshment and rest than necessary, and although much of his early years had been given over to the study of Jurisprudence and Oratory – for he had read all of Cicero's writings and knew many of the most important speeches by heart – he was also a fit young man and enjoyed the company of women, but had not had the opportunity to talk intimately with any, for the weeks since he had left Rome, except the wife of a Garrison Commander on Hadrian's Wall a some days since, but that had ended badly when the husband found them on a couch and did not believe they were speaking of poetry and would have beaten Marcus had not his fear of the consequences been stronger than his anger, for Marcus, as the Emperor's Paladin had Consular rank and dare not be crossed by a garrison commander, even for such wrongly supposed infidelity on his wife's part, but Marcus had saved everyone's face and speedily left just reaching Trimontium the evening before; his ride on the hills this morning was simply to give him a picture of the entire valley and consider the meeting he would be having with the Garrison Commander later in the day, but for now, walking with the Lady Christiane was pleasure and promise, so long as he was sensitive to her grief over the sudden murder of her husband and her own battle with the rebellious slaves, which was when she suddenly started laughing at a thought which came to her, and turned it into a coughing fit, as Marcus leaned over solicitously and she gratefully took his hand, looking up at him with strangely mirthful sparkling eyes: for she had just realised that his name translated into English was Mark Guy Fox!