36

I

Suetonius Paulinus set off for the south from Anglesey the same day he heard of the outbreak of revolt of the Iceni. He sailed at once back to Deva and then rode south. One of his priorities was to send for Gaius Flavius Cerialis. He was to perform a secret and special, nay vital, mission. He was to ride north, at once, to the Queen of the Brigantes.

‘Sir?’ Gaius ground his teeth with frustration. ‘You need me to fight the rebels.’

‘I need you to ensure the Brigantians stay out of it.’ The governor was curt. The table before him was littered with letters and plans. There was a line of officers waiting outside his tent for urgent meetings with him. He leaned forward and gazed hard into Gaius’s face. ‘This hell cat, Boudica, was the wife of a client king. She is a friend or a relative of Cartimandua – bound to be. I do not want Cartimandua unsettled. We cannot afford another rising on the northern front. It would be the end of us. Almost single-handed Cartimandua has kept her tribesmen out of our hair, even against Venutios. I do not intend to let her slip out of our clutches for the sake of a bit of diplomacy. And,’ for a moment the governor’s face slipped into something which could have been a leer, ‘my informants tell me you are very good at diplomacy with the barbarian queen.’

Gaius felt his cheeks redden violently. ‘I hoped for useful pillow talk, sir.’

‘You do not have to explain, officer. I am assured of your loyalty.’ Paulinus stood up. ‘Take a small detachment of men and call at the treasury. Small rich gifts this time. Nothing that can’t be taken in a saddlebag. Be careful; the roads are infested with British rebels. Do not get caught. Stay up north with her as long as you need to keep her occupied. Once we have defeated Boudica and sent her to her gods we can deal in whatever way is appropriate with Cartimandua.’

Gaius managed to school his features until he was out of the governor’s sight. Then he let out a string of violent expletives. He wanted to fight. He did not want to go and crawl to that woman with her lustful thighs and her scornful eyes. He would have to grovel, ingratiate himself, win her over yet again and to hold her attention for as long as it took – attention which up until now had barely granted him one night in her bed before she had grown bored with him. On top of all that she was, so the report the governor had handed him recounted with much disgust, remarried to a young slave, her husband’s shield bearer. A man she could not keep her hands off, she was so besotted with him.

He swore again.

But at the same time he was intrigued. There should be no competition, surely. He, battle-hardened, handsome – he tightened his jaw a fraction, aware of his own modest self-mockery – and charming, versus a barbarian peasant. No contest.

He took a hand-picked party of men, eight of them, on fast, well-trained horses. They travelled with the minimum of supplies and equipment, each man with a saddlebag of jewellery, gold coin and – Gaius’s idea this – small packages of silk and brocade, ivory hair combs and rich face creams, that last the idea of his new wife, Augusta, a lady less than pleased at his assignment, as much as he had told her of it, but luckily preoccupied with their small new son.

The roads were swarming with British. They scattered at the sight of the Roman broadswords, but behind their backs there were jeers, thrown stones and vicious looks. These people had been violently and thoroughly disarmed by their conquerors and as long as they were scattered and without a leader they were no danger, but now they were all heading towards Camulodunum and they had found a leader. Boudica.

Gaius cursed yet again. He wanted to be there to fight the bastards face to face and beat them into submission. Pillow politics was not his idea of service. It would make him a laughing stock. No one ever won a commendation by bedding the enemy.

Cartimandua was now in Elmet. She had already received a series of messengers from Boudica – the first carrying pleas for aid against the governor’s unjust treatment of a queen and a widow, in deliberate contradiction of her husband’s will and his agreement with Rome, the second a shocked and angry account of what had happened to her and her daughters at the hands of Rome’s hand-picked men and now a third demanding Cartimandua’s support. Other messengers had ridden further north to Venutios. Boudica demanded that they make up their differences in order to help her defeat the enemy. The whole of Britain was about to rise. If they did not support her they would be the only two rulers who would not be a part of the insurrection.

It took four days for Gaius and his men to reach Brigantia, lightly laden as they were. They had to take frequent detours, to avoid the angry bands of Britons roaming the lands of the Trinovantes and the Iceni, and further north they faced disaffected men and women from the Catuvellauni and the Corieltauvi.

Gaius’s party spent one brief night with the men of the IX legion, as they in their turn prepared to ride south to protect Camulodunum, then they rode on at dawn.

‘I bring gifts yet again, great queen.’ Gaius managed a gallant smile as he was ushered into her presence. He sensed hostility all around him in the township and it dawned on him for the first time that the Brigantians were well aware of what had happened on Môn and now in the south. If he had thought to reach her first and convince her before any word of what had happened to the Druids or to Boudica had reached her, he had been deluding himself. He decided on disarming honesty.

‘I came to check you were all right. You’ve heard about the rebellions, of course?’

She was if anything more beautiful. Older, of course, as he was, and with the lines on her face now which came with experience of life, but still alluring, still powerful. Still undeniably attractive.

She raised an eyebrow at his comment. ‘I have heard. The Queen of the Iceni is full of rage, quite rightly after the way she has been treated, and her people with her.’

‘As you say, her rage is justifiable. The men who perpetrated this outrage have been punished.’

He had no idea what had happened to them. If they had been punished for anything, no doubt it would have been for stirring up such a cauldron of fury in an already unstable situation.

‘The Governor sent me to speak to you. He is very grateful for your continuing support.’

She pursed her lips. The man must be a fool and take her for one as well. But she would play his game for now. ‘How grateful?’

He met her eyes uncomfortably. ‘I have brought gifts,’ he said slowly.

‘The same kind of gifts as before?’ She looked straight at him. She was playing with him. He could see the intelligence in the woman’s eyes and the cynicism – had that been there before? – as well as weary amusement.

‘I have been told that you have a new husband, lady,’ he said softly. ‘I would not care to trespass on another man’s territory.’

She smiled even more broadly. ‘Not what I had heard about the Romans. Or about you, if I remember last time you came. I was married then, too.’ She had seen in the scrying bowl Vellocatus and his men encamped by cold far-away northern lakes; they had killed bear and beaver and even in the chase he wore the golden crane. ‘And you,’ she narrowed her eyes, ‘you have a new wife I’m told.’

He felt himself grow tense. How did she know that? ‘I have indeed.’

‘Your first wife died?’ she went on.

‘She did.’

He held her gaze boldly, almost daring her to ask about Portia who had died in childbirth. But she merely nodded imperceptibly and he realised that of course she knew. This woman was a Druid – he made the sign of protection secretly. They knew everything. Except how to save themselves from annihilation by the Roman army. The thought of the reports of what had happened on Môn comforted him. Her next words did not.

‘I have read the omens. The seas around the lands of the Iceni run red with Roman blood. Boudica will not need my help.’ Then, as though realising that that statement would release him from his charge of convincing her to stay out of the battle, she smiled again. ‘You are lucky, Roman, that my new husband is away. He is hunting bear in the far mountains and will not return for another moon at least.’ She put her head on one side coquettishly. ‘His absence has made me lonely, I confess. We will talk this evening. I will order a feast for you and your men and you will tell me about your life in Camulodunum and about the new temple to Claudius they have built there.’

In his anxiety to distract her from the subject of the Roman action on Môn and what was happening in the south, news about which he suspected she probably actually knew more than he did, by one means or another, he told her far more than he intended. About the farm he had been given out on the coast on the edge of the marsh and the villa he was building there. About the Trinovantian slaves, the men who had owned the land and served their own royal prince before it had been confiscated and given to him and who now farmed it for him as slaves, about his wife and his new son, about working for Paulinus. About the temple of Claudius and the grandeur of the new great city which was the capital of the whole province of Britannia, with its council chamber and huge theatre, its circus, its houses and market place. He realised he had drunk too much wine and he saw the frown on the faces of one or two of his men, but he was telling her nothing secret. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing she didn’t know already.

Obediently he followed her to her chamber later. She had new attendants, he noticed. Young. Pretty. Giggly. They peered at him nervously as they readied her for bed and trimmed the lamps and then they disappeared. It was a change after the sour-faced woman who used to look after her. As he fell naked into her bed he wondered briefly what had happened to her.

When Gaius slept at last, Carta had risen from her bed with a shiver. What she had done had been this time without enthusiasm. It was a betrayal of Vellocatus and their love, a sacrifice of her body for her people. With a sigh she wandered to the doorway. Mairghread was waiting in the darkness, wrapped in a black cloak. Seizing Carta’s arm she dragged the queen down the passage between the two great round houses into the shadows, away from the leaping firelight.

‘I have a knife. I will kill him. You go to the main feasting hall and listen to the bards. You cannot be blamed if you are not there when it happens.’

‘No.’ Carta pulled her own mantle closer. A thick white mist was drifting up from the stream threading its way between the houses. She could hear the snort and stamp of the Roman horses from the stables at the edge of the camp. They were restless. Gaius’s men were asleep by now in one of the guest lodges, discreetly watched and no doubt at least one of them discreetly watching. ‘I forbid you to touch him.’

Mairghread stared at her. ‘This man is a Roman soldier. For the Lady’s sake, after what these people did on Ynys Môn you would protect him? Can you forget so soon what happened to Artgenos and the others?’

‘Gaius was not on Môn’.

‘That makes no difference. You can’t – you cannot allow him to live!’ Mairghread was hissing the words, spitting with fury.

‘No. I forbid you, or anyone, to lay a hand on him or his men.’

‘Then you betray everything that is sacred!’ Mairghread whispered angrily. ‘How can you? I can smell him on you! Have you no pride?’

‘I have pride.’ Carta was furious. ‘Don’t dare to question my actions. And don’t dare to disobey me!’ She stepped forward swiftly and wrenched the knife out of Mairghread’s hand. ‘If you touch him you will die.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘Will Vellocatus be so tolerant when he hears what you have done?’ Mairghread sneered suddenly. She was rubbing her wrist.

‘You will tell him nothing.’

‘I won’t have to. The entire township knows you cannot keep your hands off this man. You seal your own destiny with this lust. If you need a man so desperately, take a warrior. Take a man of whom we can be proud.’ Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the darkness.

Carta frowned. Mairghread was becoming a danger and a liability. Walking back into her chamber, she stood looking down at the drunken man sprawled across her bed and then at the knife in her hand. Why not? What had he done for her, save cause her confusion; make her hated within her own family, her own tribe, the whole of Brigantia. It was not as though she loved him. He had attracted her; he amused her and yes, in a way she lusted for his body, though not in the way she lusted after Vellocatus, her lover and her husband. No, it was that he was, in a real sense, her friend. Was it for that friendship she had betrayed her own people? Or was he an excuse? She sighed, unable to understand either herself or her emotions. For a long moment she hesitated, looking down at him, then with a shiver of disgust at her own weakness, she turned away.

Through half-closed eyes he had seen the flash of the blade. He had seen her throw the knife down.

He also saw the look of disgust.

When it was clear she was not coming back he rose and dressed. Peering out of the entrance he saw there were no guards posted. Stupid woman. Straightening his shoulders he walked out of the house and strode towards the guest lodge. With his own man on guard, wide awake and standing to attention he exchanged a cheery, lewd greeting and a thumbs up sign. Then he went and threw himself down on one of the mattresses against the wall.

He was ready to ride by mid-morning, but his second in command, Lucius, shook his head. ‘You don’t know what she’s going to do yet. You have to wait. You can’t risk her calling out the Brigantes and heading south.’ He stared round with a barely concealed shudder. ‘This woman commands thousands of men. Your orders were to woo her. To keep her out of the fight, so,’ the man grinned somewhat woodenly, ‘woo her you must.’

That was not so easy. He did not see her that day or the following night. Nor the next although he and his men were made ostentatiously welcome, and entertained and fed as honoured guests. Where she was he didn’t know. When at last she reappeared in the township, riding in at dusk on her chariot with Fergal at the reins, it was to summon him formally soon after to the great round house. Her warriors were there and her Druids, the leader of whom appeared, to his astonishment, to be a woman. It was then that Cartimandua broke the news to him of the sack of Camulodunum.

‘The place is burned. The temple of Claudius utterly destroyed. The Romans murdered,’ she said. Her face was impassive. He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or sorry. ‘I understand the IX legion was hurrying to their aid. They were ambushed. They too have been destroyed.’

Gaius could feel himself reeling with shock. He did not doubt for a minute the truth of what she told him. Her followers were staring at him impassively as she went on. ‘I am sorry if your wife and child were involved –’ For a moment he thought he saw a glimpse of real humanity in her eyes, then it had gone. ‘If you wish to leave, I understand.’

He tried to think. For a long moment he was completely unable to throw off the shock. It was Lucius who answered for him. ‘Gaius Flavius Cerialis thanks you, Great Queen, for your consideration, but our orders are to remain here at your service –’ Was that the slightest hesitation? ‘If his wife and child have died, they will be honoured as dying in the service of the Emperor.’

The man saw her frown slightly and glance at Gaius. He saw her face soften and he nodded, satisfied. She was only a woman. And as a woman Gaius would tame her.

Hugh groaned. How could she? How could she have betrayed the men she loved? Vellocatus. Venutios. But she was doing it for her people. Always for her people. Like Venutios, she was at heart a patriot. And she had never known how much Venutios had loved her.

It appeared she had sent messengers to enquire after his wife. Gaius listened incredulously as four days later she relayed the news. ‘The lady Augusta was at your villa when Camulodunum was sacked. The slaves have gone, following Boudica, and are now freemen once again, but she is safe, as is your son.’ She paused. ‘You are blessed to have a son. I hope you realise it.’ He saw the wistful regret in her eyes.

His relief was palpable as he bowed slightly. ‘I am grateful for that news at least. Thank you.’

‘Good.’ She smiled. ‘Then we will celebrate tonight.’

He had the feeling they were celebrating the sacking of his city, but he did not enquire into the reason for the feast too deeply. Instead he concentrated on his role. He was to distract the queen and distract her he did as the summer wore on and still her husband did not return.

Once again she played him like a fish and once again she pulled him in helpless before her wiles, perfectly aware that he thought himself the initiator of the distraction. Only when she permitted him finally to hear of the burning of Londinium and Verulamium did she allow him at last to leave.

‘You have done your duty, Roman,’ she said, eyebrow raised. ‘Single-handed you have distracted me from supporting Queen Boudica.’ She was laughing at him as he stood before her. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell of your role in upholding the frontiers of the Empire. It shall be our secret. But now I think your master would probably like you home. They must be running out of men.’

He felt his face grow hot. ‘Rome will win in the end. They will quell this rebellion. Boudica will pay with her life and with the lives of thousands of her supporters.’

‘You think so?’ She stood for a moment, staring at him. ‘We’ll see.’

As he bowed and turned away he was left with the picture of her standing, arms folded, watching. She did not show any regret that he was leaving. Her face was like engraved stone.

II

Hugh leaned back against a rocky outcrop, exhausted, and surveyed the land falling away into the haze at his feet.

Venutios was sitting staring into the fire, exhausted with rage and grief at his defeat at the hands of Carta’s Roman augmented army, when Medb found him at last. She stood, looking down at him, her clear eyes full of spite. ‘So, now you know the full extent of their duplicity.’

He straightened with a frown. ‘How did you get here? I thought I told you to go. I thought I told you never to come near me again!’ He looked round for his servants, but the great house seemed strangely empty. The darkness was lit only by the licking flames.

She gave a small sneering smile. ‘I have been watching you. Both of you. In the waters; in the clouds. I have seen it all. She has borne Vellocatus a child. The child you never allowed her to bear you.’

‘I don’t believe you!’

‘It’s true.’ She smiled. ‘Do you want me to show you in the fire? I’ll conjure a vision for you.’

‘And I’ll still not believe it!’

‘Then you’ll believe this. You let her take the brooch I gave you. That has given her power.’

‘Nonsense! That brooch was cursed.’

She smiled. ‘That brooch tied us together, Venutios. When you gave it to her, you severed your ties to Brigantia. She gave it to Vellocatus.’

She smiled at the anguish on his face. ‘If she did but know it, it binds them together. Through its magic, if she looks, she can follow his every move.’

‘You did that to me?’ Venutios turned on her.

She laughed. ‘Did you not guess?’

‘You bitch!’ He said it almost fondly. ‘So, now you will undo that magic.’

‘Sadly I can’t do that.’ She shook her head. ‘And why should I when through its power I can watch them.’ She leaned towards him. ‘Do you want to see them, Venutios? Do you want to see the woman who was your wife in bed with her new husband? Look into the flames! Let me show you!’

‘No!’ His shout echoed around the room.

‘You should have kept me near you, Venutios!’ She bared her small white teeth. ‘I was a powerful ally. You do not want me as an enemy.’

‘This is all your fault? This war with Cartimandua, her love for my charioteer is your fault?’ He turned on her suddenly. ‘You are telling me it could have been avoided?’

She laughed. ‘Of yes, it could have been avoided. But that would have deprived me of so much pleasure. I wanted her to suffer. I wanted to see her weep and cry and scream her unhappiness and her agony. And I have succeeded. Her world has fallen apart. Her people will die and starve and watch their homes burn and they and she will know it is all her fault!’

‘You evil hag!’ Venutios lunged towards her.

She dodged out of his reach, laughing. ‘And you, Venutios. You will know that I could have been your friend! I could have helped you!’ She shook her head. ‘She’s slept with the Roman again as well, did you know that?’ she taunted. ‘She preferred even a Roman to you, Venutios!’

‘You bitch!’ There was no fondness in the term this time.

She laughed again. ‘My magic could have saved you so much anguish, but you turned your back on me, and for that you will pay!’ She ducked away from him but this time he was quicker than she was.

‘Oh no.’ He moved towards her, light-footed as a cat, and caught her wrist. ‘Oh no, Medb, you will not escape me that easily.’

He dragged her close to him and held her, her face only inches from his own. ‘I loved Cartimandua! She was the light of my soul. Because of you and your vicious jealousy and plotting you have torn apart our lives.’ He was speaking through gritted teeth.

She laughed in his face. ‘And will tear them some more!’

‘I don’t think so.’ For several seconds he stared at her in silence until at last he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She tried to wriggle free but he was far too strong. ‘No.’ He shook his head, almost sadly. ‘No, Medb. Now you have overstepped the mark. I don’t know why I was ever afraid of you. I thought you so powerful, so frightening, but you are nothing but a piece of dirt in the wind. You learned a few cheap tricks from the Druids at Dun Pelder who thought you were a promising student until they saw through you, and on those tricks you have relied all these years to work your vicious magic. No longer. You are going to pay for what you have done to Cartimandua with your life.’

‘Not me.’ She thrust her chin upwards in a last burst of courage. ‘If you kill me, I shall haunt her and you forever!’

‘Haunt away, lady.’ He let go her wrists and grabbed her by the throat. ‘Cartimandua and I will find a way of getting together again one day, I promise you, and we’ll send you to the lands of the ever dead!’

She had such a slim throat.

He snapped her neck as if it were a twig and watched as she fell at his feet, a crumpled doll, her skirt folding gently around her like the petals of a flower trailing into the embers of the fire.

He stood for a long time looking down at her.

‘I will fight Cartimandua because I have no option now; and I will probably kill her,’ he said quietly to the lifeless woman. ‘But one day, in another life, she and I will meet and love again. And this time you will not be there to push us apart. You and your cursed brooch and your filthy tricks.’

Only when a servant came in at last to build up the fire did he walk away, leaving the man staring in horror. ‘Remove her and throw her body to the wolves,’ he said shortly. ‘She deserves no more.’

III

Peggy stood back ‘That’s enough.’ She gestured with the gun barrel. ‘We’ve wasted enough time.’

Pat had straightened. ‘Why do you want the brooch so badly, Peggy?’ she asked suddenly as she put her hand beneath Viv’s elbow and pulled her to her feet.

‘Because it contains all that is left of Medb’s power.’ Peggy smiled. ‘Isn’t that why you want it?’ She laughed. ‘Of course. You don’t know, do you. You have no idea what you two have been playing with.’

‘And you’re planning to throw the brooch into the falls?’ Pat’s head was clearing slowly. Medb had gone.

‘No!’ Peggy shook her head. ‘I shall use it. I shall use it the way Medb intended it to be used. The brooch is not a sacrifice! For sacrifice to the gods I shall use what the gods have always preferred. Human blood.’ Her foot slipped on the loose stones and she lurched forward, waving the gun.

Pat ducked, her face white. ‘For God’s sake, be careful!’ She took a deep breath. ‘Viv, can’t you remember where you put the brooch? It would be really good to find it, I think.’

Viv was standing, blinking around her, dazed. She nodded. ‘I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying. It’s here. Somewhere. I tucked it deep into one of these cracks.’

‘Grikes,’ Peggy said, shaking her head. The gun wavered. ‘We call them grikes. Grikes between the clints. Good hiding places.’

Pat reached for Viv’s hand. ‘Come on,’ she said quietly. ‘You lead the way.’ She looked up and caught Viv’s eye. It was only a glance but Viv saw Pat there. Not Medb. Her eyes had cleared.

IV

The farmhouse was deserted, the front door open when Meryn and James climbed out of the car. They were peering into the dark hall when a second car appeared in the distance, bumping down the track. They waited until the vehicle drew into the yard. It was a police car. Steve climbed out. ‘Mr Oakley?’ He was pale and drawn.

‘Steve. This is one of my guests – Meryn Jones. We were looking for Viv Lloyd Rees.’ James frowned. ‘Is anything wrong?’ He glanced from Steve to the two policemen who had followed him, putting on their caps.

‘There’s been an accident.’ Steve bit his lip, his face heavy with misery. ‘My father’s dead.’

‘Steve, I am so sorry.’ Stepping forward in dismay, James squeezed his arm gently.

Steve was staring round, trying to distract himself; to hide his tears. ‘Viv’s put her bag in the car. Where is she?’ He took a deep breath. ‘My mother – ‘he faltered. ‘My mother hasn’t been very well.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s lost it, Mr Oakley. Completely.’ Once again he took a deep breath and looked away. ‘Are Pat and Viv not here? I’ll call them …’ He walked across to the front door and disappeared. Seconds later he was back. ‘The .410 has gone. It was in the farm office.’

‘Was it locked up? What about ammunition?’ One of the policemen walked past Steve into the house. Steve shook his head. ‘The gun was there, against the wall, behind the door. Dad had no time –’ he gave a wry smile ‘– for regulations.’ He glanced past them at the hill. ‘I don’t know where they are.’

V

‘I walked across here.’ Exhausted, Viv stopped and looked round yet again. ‘It looks different now the light’s going. There were several little stunted trees. It’s under one of them. I don’t know which one.’

‘That’s enough!’ The gun was heavy and Peggy was growing tired. The barrel wavered slightly as she kept it pointing at Viv, the stock once more tucked into her hip. ‘You are trying to put me off. You have two more seconds!’

‘Peggy!’ Pat was frantic. Suddenly she was seeing everything clearly again. ‘Don’t be silly! Give her a chance. She’s right. It all looks the same. And it’s getting dark.’

‘It’s further over,’ Viv said at last. ‘Look. Over there, nearer the trees on the edge of the scree. The cracks in the rock are more pronounced there. I stuffed it down one of them.’ She was beginning to panic again as Peggy, growing more and more impatient, shouldered the gun and began to line up the sights.

Pat moved towards the limestone outcrop, then she paused as she saw something move in the deep shadow behind it. There was someone there. Sagging with relief she scrambled towards the shadowy figure. ‘Over here, Viv. Look.’

‘Go on!’ Peggy shouted. Her voice was growing hoarse. ‘Go where she says!’ She gripped the gun more firmly.

Viv stumbled towards the rocks. She was almost there when Hugh stood up from the shadows where he had been crouching watching them as they worked their way slowly towards him.

‘I think I’ll take that gun, Mrs Steadman, don’t you?’ He reached out to grab the barrel as Peggy let out a sharp cry and pulled the trigger.

As they wrestled the shot reverberated across the hillside. In the silence that followed the gun flew through the air to crash onto the stones. As shot pattered harmlessly around them, Peggy let out a scream of fury and broke free, turning to plunge behind the rocks and out of sight into the ravine beyond. Lunging after her, Hugh ran into the shadows and disappeared.

‘Hugh!’ Viv cried. ‘Come back!’

‘It’s OK. She’s dropped the gun!’ Pat scrambled after them, leaving Viv standing alone on the edge of the stone outcrop.

‘Wait!’ Viv staggered forward. ‘Pat, wait! What about Venutios!’

The air was thick. Cartimandua was there.

The silence of the past was swirling all around her. Viv couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly she was pitching forward into darkness.