"Nothing complicated about it," she cut me off, her tone definite. "It's only justice, pure and simple. An eye for an eye. Take Robbie's Sentinel, for instance," she said. "He came up here to kill the Votadini, right? So they had every right to kill him back."
One simply couldn't argue with youthful logic, I thought wryly. "Well, they didn't make a very thorough job of it," I commented, "if he's still wandering about in the field."
I'd meant it as a joke, but Fabia, still in her righteous attitude, appeared to be weighing the matter. "Yes, but then that's the ultimate punishment, isn't it?" she said, finally. "To take your enemy's life away, to see him lose the people and the things that he most loves, but not to let him die."
Watching her, I had the feeling she was speaking of herself, of her own loneliness and devastation, having lost her father and the life that they had shared. Certainly her eyes had grown distant, deeply thoughtful.
I tried to bring her out of it, by lightening the mood. "I see I'll have to watch my step," ] teased her, "and keep in your good favor, if that's your idea of the perfect punishment. I don't much fancy being made a ghost."
She glanced up, shaking off her reverie.”What? Oh right. I wouldn't worry," she said, smiling. "Anyway, I'd be afraid to tangle with you, after what you did to Brian."
I sighed. "I didn't hit..."
"It was a little over the top, though, don't you think? He's rather harmless, really."
"But I didn't—"
"It's just a good thing," Fabia said sagely, "it was you that did it, and not Davy. A man's punch does more damage."
When I repeated that to Jeannie the next morning over breakfast, she doubled over laughing. "Just you try and tell that to my Brian," she said. "Being hit by a woman's the worst form of insult. He went off down the pub last night and didn't rest until he'd got himself into a good manly fight— he came home with a keeker. A black eye," she translated, saving me the trouble of looking up the word. "And all on account of you."
"But I didn't hit him," I said, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Aye, you and I both ken that, but Brian was too guttered to mind anything too clearly. Here now, have your porridge while I put your eggs on."
I took the bowl obediently, yawning as I forced my eyes fully open. I'd stayed up well past three cleaning the little phalera and Peter must have known because he let me sleep late, undisturbed. Jeannie had very nearly finished with the washing-up when I finally came down. I would have gone straight out into the field, but she was not about to let me pass without a proper breakfast. Like the Sphinx, I thought. It was impossible to get by her, only instead of having to answer riddles one was forced to eat two eggs with toast and sausages.
"Jeannie," I said, "can I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
"Does Brian ... I mean, has Brian ever..." This was difficult. "Is Brian like Robbie?"
She set my plate of eggs down cautiously, clearing away the empty porridge bowl. "Like Robbie how?"
"Does he see things? Is he ..."
"Gifted?" Her eyes met mine in mild surprise.
"He said something to me yesterday," I told her, hesitantly. "That is, he sort of told me that he was. And David said he wasn't, but I thought... I thought I'd ask."
She turned away, but not before I saw the smile. "Davy doesn't ken everything."
"So Brian really is—"
"Not like Robbie," she broke in, correcting me. "He's not as good as that. He only gets impressions sometimes, hunches; nothing sure. But I reckon that's why Robbie never kens what Brian's up to. And I reckon that's why your old Roman ghost could do his trick."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I doubt if he could have knocked anyone flat but Brian—ghosts don't go around hitting anybody, really, do they? But a person with the second sight, that's different. Vulnerable, they are. You saw what happened to Robbie, out there in that field. He just had too much flowing through his wee brain."
"So you think the Sentinel did what he did just by thinking."
"Aye, thinking or wishing it. Still," she added, smiling openly this time, "I'd not be too quick to suggest that to Brian. He's fair respectful of you now, I'd try and keep it that way." She turned away again and started chopping vegetables for lunch. After a moment's thought she added: "Verity?"
"Yes?"
"You're the only one who kens, apart from me. You'll keep it secret?"
"If you want me to."
"I mean, I'd not be cross if you told Davy ..."
A floorboard creaked in the passageway. "If she told Davy what?" asked David, crossing to check the shortbread tin and frowning when he found it empty. Stealing a piece of toast from my plate instead, he looked from one to the other of us expectantly, waiting for an answer.
I glanced at Jeannie for approval before I gave him one. "That Brian really does have second sight, like I said yesterday. Not as accurate as Robbie, but even so—"
"Away!" said David, cutting me off as he, too, turned to Jeannie. "Why did you never tell me?”
“It's meant to be a secret," I explained, then told him what Jeannie thought had happened yesterday, with the Sentinel.