CHAPTER SIX

The last day of riding was through ruin. I wish I hadn’t seen the things that I saw that day. The small horse stumbling with the broken leg. The smashed cart with the two children. That must have been their father underneath, but where was their mother? Who scattered their belongings after they died? Who broke their cooking pots and tore their blankets? What good did it do? And the old woman beside the wall. Much older than my grandmother.

I didn’t know it would be like this.

I keep looking for Finn.

Now I have come to the city.

This is it. This is Colchester. But there is no living thing to be seen. I cannot hear even a bird. There is no one here.

This is what I see:

A huge, stone-walled town, much, much bigger than our village. The walls are broken, tumbled as if the earth had shaken underneath. I can see burnt rooftops beyond the wall. Sky shows in the gaps between the timbers.

There are gates in the wall, thick arches of stone. The gate nearest to Old Flax and me is blocked with fallen stone and burnt wood. The whole town has been burnt and there is such a bitter smell of burning in the air that I can taste it in my mouth, and my eyes sting with pain.

As if in a dream, Old Flax and I circle the broken walls. It is warm here. The stones are still warm from the flames.

Who did this?

It doesn’t look like men did this.

Was this my father, Uncle Red and Finn? Was this Queen Boudica with her bright brown horses?

Where is everyone?

Where is Honey?

Where are the brave Iceni?

Where are the terrible Romans?

Halfway round our circle of the city, Old Flax and I find a great arched gate in the wall that isn’t broken. It’s open and we can see inside.

It is like looking into the end of the world. I’m not going in there. Honey cannot be in there. Nothing alive could be in there.

And then I see that I am wrong.

There is a small movement. I have been seen. A little cat comes tiptoeing along by a wall towards me. I can see that it is terribly frightened. Each step that it takes is careful.

A little black cat.

I slide off Old Flax and hold out my hand. The little cat comes to me and rubs its round head against my shaking legs.

Old Flax is too tired to bother to move.

I can hear my heart banging.

The little black cat has a white star-shaped mark on her face. Still white, in all this blackness. Her eyes are the shining green of sunlight through leaves. She stretches and arches around my feet. Will she let me pick her up?

Yes.

I tuck her under my cloak and she begins to make a new sound. Like running water but softer. Like a bumble bee but sweeter.

Purring.

It is very late in the day and Old Flax needs water. Looking south, I see the road running away before me. There is a small arched stone shelter beside the road. I saw a place like that before, on the journey down. The Romans build them. The other was sheltering the water tank of a well. Perhaps this is another. Perhaps we will find water there. Anyway, that’s where we are going, the little cat and Old Flax and me.

Poor Old Flax. I lead him, and he follows like a tired dog. We move like one animal together now, Old Flax and I. We try not to look around us too much.

Dead men look very alike I think. Roman and Iceni, dark and fair, curled or lying sprawled. I haven’t seen a small gold horse. I don’t want to see a brown dog. I don’t know what I would do if I did. Would I look, and find Finn?

I think these things to stop me thinking of water because suddenly I know how much I need that arch to be a well.

Water, water, water. My throat is ash dry and burning.

And it is a well.

Who found this water? Who built this well? Iceni or Roman, I thank them from the whole of me. There is clear water in cool stone, and the little cat drinks and Old Flax drinks and I drink and drink and drink and then we look around.

The land is growing darker. There is deep shadow now beside the city walls and in the shadow a boy is moving.

A boy, not a man.

A boy the size of Finn, but not Finn. Thin as a willow wand with shaggy dark hair. He leads a dark grey pony.

Old Flax and I don’t make a sound.

We lose sight of him between heaps of stone and rubble, and then we see him again. He is creeping to the South Gate. He moves like a boy locked in fear. Sometimes he stands so still that I cannot see him at all. He is gentle with his pony. I see him smooth his hand along its neck. Then he becomes lost in the darkness around the South Gate.

Has he gone through the gate? That was brave, if he has. I wouldn’t go through that gate.

The little cat is folded snug in my cloak. I hold it tight, and with my other hand I lead Old Flax forward. We have to leave the well anyway, because surely the boy will want it himself before dark, and then he will find us there. But we make our way back northwards again, towards the gate that has swallowed the boy and his pony. We can hear his voice.

The boy is calling. He is calling gently there in the warm burnt ruins. “Stella, Stella, veni Stella!”

‘Stella’ is star. I know that. Who would call for a star in such a dark place? But the little cat is struggling under my cloak, and all at once I understand! This boy has come for his cat!

I am so relieved that it feels as if I just had walked into sunlight.

Iceni or Roman, this is a boy like me, and he has come to find his cat, just as I came to find Honey. So I start to run towards the South Gate, clutching the cat, tugging Old Flax, forgetting to be quiet. I didn’t think how the sound of me rushing across in the dark would frighten the boy, but of course it did. The gateway was silent when I arrived. It was silent while I stood hidden in the shadows and waited.

Then there was a small whicker. The voice of a horse, and I know that call!

I lost my words under Uncle Red’s thumbs, but I didn’t lose my whistle. I whistle and whistle, and the pony replies.

Just like Honey!

But Honey was gold, and this pony is dark grey. I know I must be dreaming but when I rub my eyes the pony is still there. It is Honey, not golden but ash grey.

My little dirty Honey! She comes dancing out of the shadows and behind her she pulls a Roman boy. He has my Honey safe and I have his little cat Stella tangled in my cloak.

So we swap.

I knew there were good Romans.