frighten the other side.’
‘Gracious! And they used paint instead of clothes?’
She nodded emphatically, causing the loose tendril of hair next to her cheek to bounce in a very becoming fashion. ‘I think we can be pretty certain they fought naked because both Julius Caesar and Herodian mention it alongside bold blue tattoos, so I think the paint was used rather like ships use flags...’ Her eyes always sparkled when she spoke about something which interested her, which was most of the time. She had the most expressive and beguiling eyes. ‘To allow others close by to determine which tribe they belonged to.’
Images of naked, patterned, blue men filled his mind. Then a few naked women wandered in. Followed by a naked Effie with a pencil in her hair. ‘Were the ladies nude and blue, too?’
She nodded. ‘If they were fighting, it is entirely plausible.’
‘Well, that would certainly distract the enemy.’ He’d be so dumbstruck he’d be cannon fodder, especially if she was one of the warriors.
The vast wealth of diverse and complicated knowledge crammed into her head was boggling. Sometimes, Max just asked her obscure questions simply to hear her answer. And when she answered, it was never with one simple word. It was long and convoluted, addressing every possible variation and permutation, every existing theory considered, dismissed or upheld with yet more evidence while she argued with herself, until the entire scope of the topic had been explained to him in staggering detail. More often than not, it left him open-mouthed in wonder—but he was always amused, too. There was something about Effie which constantly sailed dangerously close to the ridiculous, which was a place he had always enjoyed. Or at least he had back in the days when he hadn’t been so bitter and twisted and he’d had a sense of humour.
‘Can I ask you a question, Max?’
‘You can always ask me anything, Effie. In fact, I insist upon it. I find your honesty and your undisguised curiosity refreshing.’
‘Then that is a first. Most people loathe it.’
‘Then most people are daft. What’s the question?’
‘Are we friends now? I feel as though we are, but I am never entirely sure. And experience has taught me that if I assume, then I am doomed to be disappointed when my perceived friend starts to avoid me.’ She said it so matter of factly, but his heart wept for her. It was so ill deserved. Effie was a breath of fresh air, not an irritation.
‘I suppose we must be.’
Her delighted smile was like a balm to his soul. ‘That’s nice. And you don’t mind all the questions?’
‘I don’t want you to ever think you shouldn’t ask questions, Effie. You can always ask me anything...’ Which might well open some potentially awkward floodgates. ‘As long as you appreciate I might not always answer them.’
‘That strikes me as very fair. Do you think Boudicca painted herself blue? I am certain I have never read any account to suggest she did.’
‘Perhaps she was so fearsome, she didn’t need to?’
‘Perhaps?’ She shrugged as she considered. ‘Even so—I might do some research tonight just to be sure. It will only keep me awake otherwise.’
As clever as she was, and he sincerely doubted there was anybody on the planet cleverer, she was also chaotic.
Keeping time seemed to cause her a great deal of difficulty—no doubt because her mind had distracted her—and she seemed to struggle with the everyday sorts of decisions which most people did without thinking. But she was reliably late to dinner and, when she arrived, would inevitably have always forgotten something crucial, whether that be a sensibly warm shawl to go home in as she had that first fateful night she had dined at his house and challenged him about his behaviour, the mismatched boots she frequently wore while digging when there were plainly two pairs because some days she wore the brown boot on her left and other days she brought its right friend instead. Or her entire wheelbarrow of tools, as she had this morning. Apparently, she was halfway across the meadow before she realised and arrived at the site after he had ridden past it