“With her Cappadocian bearers?” queried Brinnaria.
“Eighteen, of them,” said Flexinna; “two extras.”
“How on earth did you come to do that?” Brinnaria wondered.
“I had a notion,” Flexinna explained, “of trying to get to the G-G-Grove by the Lake b-b-before the fight. I thought p-p-perhaps Almo would listen to me if I c-c-could see him in t-t-time.”
“Did you tell Quintus?” Brinnaria demanded.
“Of c-c-course,” said Flexinna. “He wanted to go alone, b-b-but I said Almo would not listen to him, so I p-p-persuaded him to let me t-t-try. I c-c-couldn’t think of riding, of c-c-course, as I am. He wouldn’t even hear of my d-d-driving, said I might as well hang myself and be d-d-done with it as risk the jar of a t-t-travelling c-c-carriage. I said I’d use my litter. He said our b-b-bearers c-c-could never g-g-get there in t-t-time for me to hope to d-d-do any g-g-good. I said I’d b-b-borrow Nemestronia’s fastest gang. He said he c-c-could g-g-go and c-c-come b-b-back on a horse quicker than any litter c-c-could reach the G-G-Grove. I repeated that Almo would certainly p-p-pay no attention to him, b-b-but might listen to me. So I b-b-borrowed Nemestronia’s litter. Shall I g-g-go? Shall I start at once?”
“No!” Brinnaria cut her off. “Let me think. Sixteen miles? They could do it in a little over five hours, if everything went just right. They’d take at least eight hours for the return journey. You wouldn’t be back at the Appian gate before sunrise. It would be a hungry job.”
“I thought of that,” Flexinna informed her. “I’m always ravenous when I’m this way* and c-c-can never g-g-go from one meal to the next. I had a k-k-kid-skin of wine p-p-put in the litter and b-b-bread and cheese and fruit.”
*In other words, she’s pregnant. —PG ed.
“You did!” cried Brinnaria. “Where is Vocco?”