37

I

Beside the farmhouse the five men stared up at the hill. ‘That was a gunshot!’ One of the policemen scanned the semi-darkness of the hillside, his hand shading his eyes. ‘It seemed to come from beyond the Scars. We’ll take the car and go round by road!’ He turned to Steve. ‘You go with these gentlemen. But be careful!’ Already he was running. ‘We need the armed response vehicle out here now!’ he yelled, as his colleague threw himself into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine, reached for his radio. ‘Tell them the situation!’ In seconds they had pulled out of the gate and disappeared up the track.

Steve and Meryn looked at James. He shrugged. ‘My car is at your disposal, gentlemen.’ It was an ancient four-wheel drive. ‘Perhaps you’d better drive, Steve?’ They piled in, with the two dogs sitting with James in the back as Steve put the car at the track and pressed his foot down hard.

Twice they stopped as the car left the rough stone track and cut across the grassland, scanning the horizon for a sign of life, then in the distance Meryn spotted two figures momentarily silhouetted on the skyline. ‘There!’ He pointed.

‘We’ll have to leave the car,’ Steve said shortly. ‘They’re heading for the river.’

They stopped at the edge of the rock and scree. Steve leaped out and began to run, the dogs at his heels. There was no sign of the police.

James shook his head with a sigh. ‘You go,’ he said to Meryn, shrugging. ‘I can’t manage on this rough ground. I’m sorry.’

Climbing slowly out of the car, he stood staring after them. In the evening sky the moon was hanging over the shoulder of the hill. He could hear the crash and rattle of feet on stones from the deep ravine ahead. From the distance he could hear the roar of the waterfalls.

II

‘Viv, are you listening?’

Pat gave up any hope of following Hugh and Peggy into the steep wild ravine and turned back. Kneeling, she put her hand on Viv’s shoulder as Viv lay curled upon the ground, her head cushioned on her elbow, her eyes closed. ‘You are there, aren’t you? In Cartimandua’s time? You must come back. I need you here. Now!’

Viv’s eyelids fluttered. ‘We have to find the brooch. Mairghread will tell Vellocatus I slept with the Roman. She will betray me.’

‘The brooch doesn’t matter any more. Peggy’s gone mad. She’s going to kill someone. Please, wake up!’ Pat shook Viv by the arm. ‘We don’t need this now!’ Her own head was clear. Whatever Peggy had given her earlier had worn off. ‘I’m sorry about Medb. I’m sorry about everything. Please, Viv!’

Viv groaned. ‘He is jealous. So jealous. The seers tell us he and his men have killed two bears. They have the meat and the pelts and they will be back before Samhain and he will be happy to see me until Mairghread spreads Medb’s poison.’

Pat could feel the perspiration dripping down her face. ‘Carta. Send Mairghread away. Send her to Venutios. Get rid of her. You don’t need her any more. Do you hear me? Send Mairghread away. Then let Viv wake up.’

There was no reply.

‘Viv, I need you here!’ Pat was near to tears.

‘The brooch is over there. Near the tree,’ Viv whispered suddenly. ‘Vivienne told me where to hide it. She knows it holds power.’

‘God help us!’ Pat stood up in despair. She froze suddenly. An elderly man was hobbling over the rough ground towards them.

‘You must be Pat?’ He smiled and held out his hand with old-fashioned courtesy. ‘I’m James Oakley. And is this Viv? Hugh was telling me about her.’

Pat stared at him, white to the lips.

‘Can I help?’ he went on, glancing over his shoulder towards the darkness of the ravine. ‘We heard a shot.’

Pat turned and gestured towards Viv. ‘Please.’ Her voice was husky. ‘Make her wake up.’

III

There was snow on the hills; months had passed, months of suspense while walls had been strengthened and watch towers built. There were more houses and more granaries and store rooms. Icicles hung from the broad eaves of the round house where Carta sat before the fire listening to her bard. Finlay had judged her mood to perfection as he always did. Starting his songs quietly, introspectively, gently, he built them surreptitiously in pace and humour, watching the queen in the firelight, lifting her mood. The house had been busy. Essylt was there with all her children. And her brother, Fintan, his wife and son and his family. They had come for the double winter festival of Brigantia and Imbolc and stayed, trapped by the weather. The compound had been noisy. Chaotic with children and dogs. Now they had gone. Finlay frowned as a figure appeared in the doorway, then relaxed as he recognised the king. Vellocatus stooped and kissed the top of the queen’s head, then he threw himself down on the bench beside her. ‘The thaw has set in at last. Spring will be here before we know it.’ He glanced across at her. ‘What is it?’ He was wearing the golden bird on his mantle.

She shrugged. ‘The flames speak of war. Soon. When the roads are passable.’

He swore under his breath. ‘From which direction? Venutios again?’

‘Always Venutios.’ She sighed. ‘One by one my warriors desert me. Fintan has gone now, with his wife and children.’ Her voice broke. Her own brother’s defection hurt more than she could bear.

‘Through the snow?’ He frowned.

‘As you say, the thaw has set in. As soon as the wind changed he went silently in the night. And with him Diarmid, another of my best men, Vellocatus. I trusted them.’

Vellocatus, too, was staring into the flames. He sighed. ‘You should not have married me. Your men cannot stomach me as their king. I have brought you nothing but misery.’

She gave a fond smile. ‘I would never regret marrying you. Never. You are everything to me, my dear.’

The silence that followed was broken only by the gentle notes of the harp. There were no more songs.

In the distance a wolf howled.

Venutios invaded the northern territories under the first full moon of Cutios, in the time of wind, when the snows had gone but the ice had firmed and roughened the mud in the tracks enough to bear a horse and chariot at speed. His warriors swept down through the hills and took two of the Brigantian fortresses almost before Vellocatus had mobilised Cartimandua’s army. The fighting was fierce, Venutios’s men well-trained, his army large – far larger – than before.

The two armies faced one another along a broad stretch of moorland near the river beneath slate-grey skies. Vellocatus mounted his chariot – he had a driver of his own now – and saluted Carta with a jaunty wave of his spear. ‘We’ll send him packing, my queen, once and for all. Have no fear.’

As the horses thundered towards one another over ground which shook, Carta looked up. Kites and buzzards were circling, sensing the coming blood.

She had already seen disaster in the sky. Neladoracht. Divination by reading the clouds. It was something she was very good at.

They brought Vellocatus back on his chariot, a vicious spear wound in his chest. Gruoch was there even before he had arrived. She too had read the signs. She had a team of healers trained to deal with the worst of battle injuries, but Carta did not need to see their faces to know this one was mortal.

She spent a long time at his bedside, helping with their ministrations, then as dusk fell and he slipped into a feverish sleep she rose from his bedside and walked out into the cold night. Finding her way to the spring at the foot of the hill was second nature. She did not need a lamp. Silently and alone she walked over the rough ground, wrapped in a dark mantle, and threaded her way down through the trees, slipping on the pathway which led to the spring. In the moonlight the grass and the lichen-draped firs were silvered with moisture from the mist which had dropped away as the wind strengthened.

Quietly she sat down on the stone rim of the basin near the ancient head of the goddess, surrounded by the sound of water.

Vivienne!

She waited, staring down into the dark reflections.

Vivienne? I need you. Tell me what to do!

Viv frowned. She was aware of two figures near her, but they were of no interest; they were far away in time. They could not help.

Vivienne!

The voice had carried from far away, no more than a breath in the air.

Help me! A life for a life. Is that what you demand? Save him for me, great goddess. Spare him from this pain. I need him here. At my side.

Silence.

Viv strained her ears, not sure if she had heard the words aright.

Behind her in the distance a voice was calling her name. Turning her back, she closed her eyes.

Vivienne! You can make everything all right so Vellocatus can live. You can save him. You must save him!

The voice was insistent in her brain, calling her again and again.

In her dream, Viv glanced up at the moon. Tattered rags of cloud partly obscured it. Soon a larger, blacker swirl of cumulus would be drawn across it. Enough to bring darkness to the countryside. With a small whimper of fear, she forced herself back into the shadows. Carta was waiting beside the spring.

IV

‘Listen to the falls! After all this rain they are in full spate. Aren’t they wonderful?’

Peggy had scrambled down the side of the steep valley, the game bag which was slung across her shoulders dragging behind her, catching on the undergrowth as she pushed and slid her way through dog’s mercury and ramsons, ferns and tangled trees down towards the river. She stopped at last at the edge of the rock and turned to face Hugh with a smile of triumph. Deep in the ravine it was almost completely dark, the falls behind her deafening, glittering with silver foam as the light from the rising moon cut down over the hillside.

‘So. We needed a man after all.’ Peggy was still smiling at him. Her hair was tangled and wild, her face scratched. There was a tear across the front of her blouse. Groping blindly in the bag she drew out a large kitchen knife and brandished it in front of his face.

He backed away a little. ‘Can we talk first?’ He was still panting slightly, feeling the rock slippery under his feet.

She had scarcely any strength left, but she raised the knife and pointed it towards his chest. ‘What have we to talk about?’

‘We could talk about Medb. Venutios killed her, you know.’

‘Which is why she’s so angry.’ Peggy smiled. ‘You think I didn’t know that?’

‘She’s angry because Venutios vowed that one day he and Cartimandua would be together again.’ He paused. ‘Be careful, Mrs Steadman. It’s slippery from the spray.’ Hugh edged backwards, still trying to catch his breath.

She shook her head. ‘She was trying to use Pat. But Pat is weak. She is useless. She needed someone stronger.’ She waved the knife again.

‘Are you saying she needed you?’ Hugh shook the spray off his face.

‘Of course me! She has given me such power, even without the brooch! And all I have to do to please her is to kill Venutios! To make sure he never makes his peace with Cartimandua!’ She laughed.

‘And I walked into your trap.’ Hugh sighed.

‘Convenient, wasn’t it!’ She was beaming. ‘One life. Two men. A professor and a king. How lucky can one get!’

Hugh glanced round in spite of himself. Was Venutios there? Venutios who had killed Medb with his bare hands. He was too frightened to feel anything save the cold damp from the spray seeping into his shirt. The woman’s face was implacable as she watched him. ‘Can you see him?’ he asked. Engage her. Try to keep her talking.

She nodded.

He shuddered, resisting the urged to turn round and look where she was looking. ‘Tell me what he looks like.’ Somehow he had to distract her, see if he could get round beyond her to the safety of the cliff wall. He took a small side step and then another. The ground was shaking with the roar of the falls.

‘He’s tall; tattooed with war paint.’ She narrowed her eyes. She was staring at a point just behind him. In spite of himself Hugh felt a shiver of pure terror. ‘He is very close to you,’ she went on. Her tone was conversational now. She shifted her grip on the knife.

‘Because he doesn’t want me to die, Mrs Steadman,’ Hugh stated. ‘On the contrary. He is anxious to keep me alive. He needs me.’

He could hear someone coming. A branch cracked further up the hillside and he heard footsteps slipping on the scree, tripping over tree roots, pushing through the curtains of wet leaves. ‘Down here!’ he shouted suddenly.

She smiled. ‘No one can save you.’

‘Ma?’ Steve’s voice reached them over the sound of the water. ‘Where are you?’

She looked up at that, surprised. ‘Steve?’ she called. ‘You’ve come back!’

Steve slid the last few feet down the wet rockface and landed a few feet from Hugh, the dogs after him. He saw the knife in her hands and recoiled. ‘Ma? Is that one of your Sabatier set? What are you doing?’

‘The gods need blood.’ She shrugged. ‘Medb needs blood.’

‘What rubbish!’ Steve stepped towards her. She swung the knife towards him and he stopped.

‘We’re going to have a party.’ She brushed some spray off her face. ‘Venutios has to drink our health before he jumps.’

‘Shit!’ Steve glanced at Hugh desperately. ‘A party sounds like fun, Ma,’ he said cautiously. He looked round. She and Hugh were so close to the edge, if either slipped they would plunge into the falls. She was holding the knife in front of her with both hands. ‘Take my bag, Steve.’ She slid the strap over her head and dropped it on the ground. ‘I’ve brought mead.’

Steve reached over and hesitantly he took the bag as the dogs cowered behind him, staring at her. He had never seen them behave like that before. ‘Go on.’ She nodded towards it.

He opened it and withdrew the small brown bottle and two plastic mugs. ‘We have to drink a toast in mead,’ she went on casually. ‘Unscrew the bottle.’ She watched him do it. The sweetness of honey and herbs was so strong he could smell it over the scent of the river and the wet ferns and moss all around them. ‘First a libation.’ She gestured with the knife. ‘An offering to the goddess.’

He poured a small drop out over the edge of the path into the falls.

‘Now, for you and Venutios.’

Steve glanced at Hugh desperately. ‘The police are coming,’ he mouthed. He doubted if Hugh could hear him against the roar of the waters. Hugh was moving very carefully along the rock towards her now, as Steve poured mead into the two mugs. His hands were shaking.

‘Give him one.’ She swung the knife towards Hugh. He froze.

Steve sniffed at the mug cautiously. ‘Bloody hell, this smells pretty potent, Ma.’ He glanced back at his mother.

She smiled. ‘It is. A drink fit for the gods. An ancient recipe.’

He took a sip and then another. After the initial bitterness it was extremely good.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Steve. Here, on the rocks where it’s safe. Then you can watch.’ She had found a flat place high above the water. ‘This is perfect. A moonlit tryst.’ She was watching them both carefully. ‘Drink!’ She waved the knife at Hugh.

Hastily he took the mug from Steve.

‘Don’t touch it, Hugh.’ The voice suddenly so close behind her took Peggy by surprise. She swung round. Meryn was standing on the path. He raised his hands in a gesture of openness. ‘Mrs Steadman. The gods do not need a sacrifice. It is the wrong time.’ His voice was strong.

‘You dare to tell me what the gods want?’ Peggy sneered. ‘I don’t know who you are, but this is none of your business! Drink it!’ She was pointing the knife at Hugh again.

Hugh raised the mug to his lips. It smelled sweet, but then mead always was, with behind it a bitter herbal undertone. Even the aroma made him feel unsteady. He lowered the mug without tasting it, staring out across the falls, mesmerised by the thunder of water on the rocks below.

Peggy smiled. ‘It’s good, isn’t it.’ She turned to Steve.

Nodding, he took another sip.

Meryn glanced at Hugh. Venutios was standing immediately behind him. As Meryn watched, the two figures blended into one.

‘Hugh!’ Meryn stepped closer. ‘Move away from the falls.’

Hugh didn’t hear him. It was Venutios who shook his head. ‘This woman wants to perpetuate Medb’s spite. She has to die. She can be a sacrifice to the gods.’ His voice blended with the thundering of the waters behind him.

Meryn edged closer. ‘The gods forbid this! The omens are wrong!’

‘Sacrifice?’ Steve looked up. He took another sip from the mug.

Behind them the moonlight swirled in the spray.

‘Venutios! I forbid this!’ Meryn moved closer. His voice was formidable against the roar of the falls.

Venutios held his gaze. ‘Medb died with a curse on her lips. She made promises which need to be broken!’

‘No. Listen to me! This is forbidden!’ Meryn was very close to him now. ‘This woman is not a suitable messenger. She is tainted.’

Peggy looked round at him. She seemed confused. The knife wavered in her hand. The moonlight on the water was dazzling. The moment had come and she was ready. With a smile she stepped towards the edge of the path.

V

Carta kissed Vellocatus on the forehead as he lay unconscious on their bed, covered with furs to keep him warm, then she walked out through the great gates in the rampart walls. Vivienne would help Vellocatus. She would save him in exchange for a sacrifice. She would make everything all right again. She ignored the warriors who ran after her and the flames that rent the night sky to the north. She ignored the distant steady beat of a deerskin drum. Her eyes were fixed on the path at her feet. She had to reach the place of sacrifice.

‘Come back, now! We have to close the gates!’ Someone caught her arm. Someone else was forcing her to turn, dragging her back inside as the huge oak gates were swung closed and barred.

She stood staring round, dazed. The whole tribe were there, huddling in the shelter of the ramparts, hundreds of people, wide-eyed, afraid. With their livestock and as many of their belongings as they could carry, they had been streaming in from their smallholdings and farms in the dales and on the moors and deep in the forest, up the hill towards the fort since Venutios’s army had been spied marching inexorably southwards towards them.

‘Come back to Vellocatus, lady. He needs you.’ Gruoch and her Druids were there inside the stockade too, though the Carvetii would never harm the Druid college or any of its members.

‘Venutios is here!’ The words, laden with fear, were spreading like wildfire around the fort.

‘Set up the ghost fence. The spirits of our ancestors will save us,’ Carta implored Gruoch.

The woman shook her head. ‘Not possible. Our ancestors will not guard us against our own brothers and our sons. These are our own people, Carta. Venutios is one of us!’

Slowly Carta climbed the steps to the top of the ramparts and stood looking out across the fells towards the forest. In her head she would transfer herself into the form of a bird, an owl to fly silently over the trees in the darkness so that she could still reach the great falls, the place of sacrifice. In her vision she would oversee it all. Vivienne was waiting. The priestess of the falls was ready.

In her dream she flew through the curtains of birch and yew and juniper and the tangle of undergrowth gliding downwards, until she could hear the roar of the water; smell it; sense its clean invigorating excitement. Her sacrifice would be to the goddess, Vivienne, but also this time to Camulos, the god of war. All was ready. The ceremony planned, the victim chosen and waiting by the great hungry falls. When at last she folded her wings and came to rest, feeling the rock tremble beneath her talons, she could see Peggy clearly. She was sitting with Steve on the rocks, right on the edge of the drop. In the moonlight the spray shone like silver, lighting the whole scene. Steve was lolling backwards; she could see his mouth open; was he laughing or screaming? She couldn’t hear because of the thunder of the waters.

Venutios was watching, and with him a Druid priest.

Peggy! Stop! Don’t!

That was what she wanted to say.

The goddess, cold and implacable, stopped her.

She could hear the sound of a horn, the deep note reverberating above the roar of the water. The note of the carnyx.

She felt herself grow cold.

Her voice, when she spoke again to Pat and James on the dark limestone slabs, was her own.

‘Venutios was there. He arrived at Dun Righ before she witnessed the sacrifice and she knew this time he would kill her. If the gods would not help her she had no alternative but to send for Gaius again,’ she whispered. ‘In her despair, without Vellocatus to help her, she sent for Gaius and in the depths of the fire she watched her messenger ride south.’

The Brigantian, well aware of his mistress’s watching eyes, demanded to see Gaius with such urgency that the legionnaire in the outer office bade the muddy, ragged, unshaven man wait and he sent word to Gaius at once. He was in attendance on the Governor.

‘Cartimandua bade me find you. She needs you and your men, Roman. Venutios is at her gate again and this time he means to kill her.’

Gaius frowned, tempted to turn the man away. One glance at the man behind the desk told him otherwise.

‘As always she is our last chance to hold the north at bay, Gaius. Without her the whole northern frontier will be at Venutios’s mercy. We cannot afford the distraction now of all times.’

Even so, they could not spare a legion. A wing was mustered at once from the garrison at Deva and marched into the teeth of the wind.

Carta ordered her army to attack Venutios at dawn. It poured out of the gates, the men holding their banners before them to drive him from her walls.

She watched them go, then she withdrew to the royal house to sit with Vellocatus. His wound had turned black. The strongest herbs could not mask the smell of the putrid flesh as he lay tossing and turning with fever.

Gruoch and her Druidesses redressed the wound as best they could. Only the gods could save him now.

As the battle raged on the distant fells, only a handful of men remained to guard the fort and the women and children who remained there, and half of them secretly welcomed the coming of Venutios. Whilst Carta sat weeping at her husband’s side the great gate opened a crack. Into the darkness of the compound a band of Carvetian warriors, a file of shadowy figures in the darkness, crept into the heart of the township. No one saw them come. No one opposed them until with shouts and yells of triumph they raced between the houses, brandishing their swords. Two of Carta’s guards were cut down where they stood and the night sky flared as burning torches were tossed onto the heather roofs of the houses.

Carta did not move. If she heard anything she gave no sign, holding Vellocatus’s hand. ‘Soon you will be better, my love!’ She sponged his forehead gently. ‘I will make everything all right. Do not fear.’

The screams and shouts outside grew louder and now she could smell the burning as Gruoch ran into the room. ‘My queen, the house is on fire. You must come. We’ll move Vellocatus. You can’t stay here.’

‘You can’t move him.’ Carta stood up. ‘It would kill him.’

‘It will kill him if he stays!’ Gruoch pursed her lips. ‘You will die, my queen!’ Gruoch was desperate.

‘Leave me. The gods will protect us.’ Wisps of burning heather blew in through the doorway. The roof was sodden from all the rain but in places the fire, fed by the pitch on the burning torches, was taking hold. They could hear the crackling above their heads.

‘I will fetch men with a stretcher for him!’ Gruoch whirled round and disappeared through the doorway.

‘Such a fuss, sweetheart!’ Carta knelt beside the bed.

Vellocatus reached upto her and touched her face. ‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘Leave me. I’m dying anyway. Please go.’

‘I would never leave you!’ She bent to kiss him as Gruoch reappeared in the doorway. Behind her strode three Roman soldiers. They had defied all the odds to reach Brigantia in time. ‘There. He’s there.’ Gruoch gestured at the bed. ‘Please save him.’

Two of the men carried a litter. The third was Gaius. ‘Out, now.’ He seized Carta’s wrist. ‘My men will bring your husband!’

He pulled her to her feet as a clump of burning heather dropped almost on top of them. There was a roar as the roof went up. ‘Now!’ Somehow he had her in his arms and ran with her out of the entrance, into the open air. Behind them the two men had thrown Vellocatus onto the litter. They had barely managed to emerge as the roof collapsed. All around them the Romans were fighting and the Carvetian warriors had fallen back. A few of them were running for the gate. Others were being hacked to pieces where they stood. The men with the litter ran with it towards the guest house near the wall, which was untouched by fire. As they carried Vellocatus inside, Gaius followed with Carta still in his arms. Only when they were inside did he set her down. Behind them two soldiers stood guard at the doorway.

‘Vellocatus!’ Carta flung herself down beside the litter which had been put down on the floor. ‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’ He did not answer. ‘Vellocatus?’ Her voice broke. The hand which had been hot with fever was ice cold. ‘My love. My life.’ She bent to kiss his forehead.

Gaius stood back with a sigh. He folded his arms. Behind him one of his men approached and saluted. ‘They’ve gone. The fort is secure, sir. They thought there were more of us than there are.’ He gave a grim smile.

Gaius nodded. ‘You did well. Leave us now. I fear the king is dead.’

The man glanced at the man on the floor and the weeping woman and nodding, he withdrew.

‘The goddess will save him.’ Carta looked up at Gaius and smiled through her tears. ‘He’s only asleep.’ She bent to Vellocatus again, her lips brushing his forehead. Suddenly she caught sight of the brooch on his mantle and with an exclamation of disgust she tore it off. Climbing to her feet, she ran outside and hurled it into the burning ruins of the round house. For a moment she stood watching as the walls of the building collapsed over it. When she returned she paused in the doorway as though seeing Gaius properly for the first time. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I came as you asked, Great Queen.’ He frowned. Strangely she had never looked more beautiful to him in spite of her dishevelled gown, her soot-stained face, the tears. Great Queen. The words were ironic in the shambles of the burned-out fort with the roar of battle only some half-mile away.

‘He will be all right?’ ‘She seemed completely disorientated as she stared down at the dead man on the litter at their feet. ‘Look.’ She put her hand into the fold of her cloak and pulled out a small golden knife. ‘The sacrifice is being carried out as we speak.’ She smiled again. ‘A life for a life. The gods will spare Vellocatus if they receive another in his place.’ She raised the knife as though about to stab the empty air.

Gaius found himself shuddering. Catching her wrist, he forced the knife out of her hand. ‘Vellocatus is dead,’ he said softly. ‘It is too late.’

She stared at him. ‘No. He sleeps. The goddess is going to spare him. She has promised …’ She looked bewildered.

‘Your goddess does not want more sacrifice.’ He tucked the knife into his belt. ‘Human sacrifice is banned under the Empire. Surely you know that?’ He had seen no sign of the intended victim. ‘Surely enough men have died today to satisfy even one of your bloodthirsty gods!’

‘We are not part of the Empire.’ She managed a reproof through the tears. ‘Our gods are still strong, Gaius Flavius Cerialis, and I need to send them a messenger. Someone who will go willingly. You have my knife, but it doesn’t matter. Someone else will sacrifice for me, tonight.’

Standing away from him, she raised her arms and threw back her head.

Vivienne!

Gaius quailed at her scream.

Vivienne, take the sacrifice I send you and give me back my love!

By the falls, Peggy stood up and held out the knife. The blade shone silver in the moonlight.

Steve was staring at her and he giggled. ‘You look mag-nis-i-fent! Have some!’ He waved the plastic mug towards her, spilling drops of mead across the rocks. None of them noticed the owl on the branch of the yew tree nearby, watching the scene with unblinking eyes.

Vivienne!

Did anyone else hear that desperate scream? Meryn frowned. He could see Venutios clearly; see him smiling. He was between the falls and Medb, silhouetted against the flash of white foam from the water below the path, and the moonlight on the spindrift.

Gaius touched Cartimandua’s shoulder gently. ‘You must collect any belongings that can be salvaged and summon your companions. It is not safe for you here. You are completely unprotected. There are other war bands in the area. We can’t hold them off for long. Not this time.’ He stepped back to allow her to leave the house in front of him. When she didn’t move he put out a hand, and then an arm around her shoulder. ‘Say goodbye to him, then come. We have to leave. We will send Vellocatus to the gods before we go.’

She shook her head. ‘My warriors will return.’

‘Your warriors have been wiped out, Carta.’ His voice was gentle. ‘There is nothing for you here. Venutios has won for now.’

‘No. My people will support me.’

He grimaced. As far as he could see her people had gone. Even the Druidesses had fled as his soldiers searched the township for remnants of the Carvetian attackers. The Governor was going to be furious. The last bastion of the client kingdom had gone with her influence. Now there would be open war with Venutios all along the northern borders.

‘I must take you somewhere safe, Carta. I’m sorry. You cannot stay.’ He shook his head, desperately sorry for her. ‘This is the end. You are no longer queen.’

VI

Viv stirred. She frowned. It was cold and dark. The moon had disappeared. Pat was sitting on the cold stone slabs near her; beside her stood an elderly man. ‘What’s happened? Why are we here?’ Viv scrambled to her feet. ‘I have to go! I have to stop her!’ Someone had put a coat round her shoulders and she tore it off, throwing it onto the ground.

‘Viv! Wait!’ Pat grabbed at her but Viv had gone, scrambling over the rocks into the darkness. Not knowing where she was going she pushed through trees and shrubs, slid down through the mud and over rocks and stones, feeling brambles tearing at her arms and legs, drawn by the sound of water. As she reached the top of the falls the moon broke through the cloud and as the darkness drew back, she saw the figures on the path below her.

Steve was sitting on the edge of the path, one leg hanging over the edge of the rocks above the thundering water. He was swaying slightly, smiling, the empty beaker dangling from one hand.

‘Peggy?’ She heard the tall man standing near him call out. ‘Can you hear me? Stay there. Don’t move.’ Peggy was standing on the very edge of the path, her arm outstretched. The blade of the knife in her hand caught the moonlight, a silver flash in the darkness. Viv gasped. This was her fault! She had created this scene in her dream. She looked desperately from one to the other as the stranger stepped closer to Peggy. ‘Do you want your son to die, Peggy? Listen to me!’ He was only a couple of feet from her now. ‘Put down the knife and tell him to move away from the edge. This is not what the goddess wants!’

Hugh was there, not far from Steve, his clothes drenched by the spray. Except it wasn’t Hugh. It was Venutios. She could see his tunic, the fur cloak, the necklace of bears’ teeth around his neck. And suddenly she knew who this stranger was. This was Meryn. This was a Druid.

Moving forward, she stepped into the moonlight near them. ‘Medb!’ she screamed. ‘Venutios! This man is a Druid! You have to obey him! He speaks with the gods!’ She brushed the hair out of her eyes, leaving a streak of blood from the bramble scratches across her face.

Hugh stared at her. ‘Cartimandua?’ She couldn’t hear him. The roar of the falls drowned out every sound.

Meryn moved another step towards Hugh. Viv could see his swirling cloak of sacred Druidic feathers, the staff in his fist as he raised both hands in a wild invocation and for a moment she quailed.

‘The goddess does not want more blood!’ he called. ‘Venutios! Leave this man. Go now. I have battled with stronger men than you and won. You will obey me! Your people need you in another world. You have no place here. Medb has no place here. Nor Cartimandua.’ He swung and faced Viv, holding her with his piercing gaze. ‘It is over. Your story is told! In the name of all the gods – go!’ His words rang off the rocks around them. Viv felt the power of his gaze as a physical blow in her solar plexus. He was holding them all in the web of power between his upraised hands.

Viv gazed at Hugh. She was seeing double. She saw a shadow detach from his body. For a moment the figure of Venutios stood beside him, completely separate. She saw his face clearly, his tattoos, saw him lift his hand in her direction and with a sudden shock she felt her eyes fill with tears.

‘Venutios!’ It was Cartimandua who let out the wailing cry of farewell. Sadness and regret engulfed her. Then Venutios was gone.

Viv knew that Cartimandua too had left at last as she raised her head, aware that Hugh had put his arms around her. She stared at Meryn. ‘You sent them away. I saw you! Your cloak of feathers! Your staff!’ He was wearing an old checked shirt and jeans.

He smiled. ‘What Hugh calls hocus pocus.’

Hugh gave a wry grin. ‘I will never doubt you again.’

Viv glanced up at him. They were both in a state of shock. ‘Venutios?’

‘Has gone.’

‘Are you sure?’ She could see nothing for her tears. ‘Will he come back?’

Hugh shook his head. His arms tightened around her as he glanced at Meryn for confirmation. ‘We know his story now. We know what Medb did to him and we know he killed her for it. We know,’ he paused, ‘that he loved Cartimandua. He fought her, would perhaps have killed her too, but he loved her. He wanted the story known.’

‘Just as she did.’

‘Just as she did.’ Hugh was still holding her tightly.

‘So, it’s all over?’

‘It’s all over.’

Behind them Medb laughed. ‘So touching! And so pointless! Nothing will change history. Everyone will remember you as a traitor and a fool.’ She was looking straight at Viv. Stepping closer to her, she raised her hand, pointing the knife straight at Viv’s heart.

Pushing Viv behind him, Hugh threw himself forward, frantically trying to fend Peggy off, but Meryn was already between them. The Druid’s staff once more in his hand, he pointed it straight at Peggy’s chest. ‘Cease your evil now!’ His gaze made her recoil. ‘In the name of the goddesses of these lands and by the power of these sacred waters I command you, Medb, to leave this woman, Peggy, and to return to the lands of the ever dead.’

Medb gasped. A silver wraith drifted for a moment around Peggy’s shoulders. It was fading. Viv saw white fingers trail across the knife in Peggy’s hand. Then Medb too was gone.

Bored, Steve shifted his position as he sat by the path. Completely unaware of what was happening around him, he leaned forward slightly to look down over the edge of the rocks and grinned up at the moonlight. ‘It’s beautiful, down there,’ he said clearly. ‘I’m going to fly down.’

‘Steve. No!’ Meryn’s voice was a roar above the water.

Peggy turned and looked at her son. ‘Steve? What are you doing? You’re too near the edge!’ She seemed aware for the first time of his danger. The knife was still in her hand.

‘Throw the knife into the falls, Peggy. Give it to the goddess,’ Meryn commanded.

There was a long silence. Peggy lowered her arm and stared at the knife.

‘Throw it into the falls,’ Meryn called again. ‘Give it to the waters. Now!’

Peggy nodded. She hesitated for one more second, then raising it she held it for a moment in the moonlight. ‘Blessed lady of the falls,’ she called. ‘To you I give the greatest sacrifice of all.’

For a fraction of a second the silvered blade hovered over Steve’s head.

‘Steve! No –!’

Viv was screaming as Meryn threw himself towards Peggy, reaching desperately for the knife, but it was too late. She plunged it into the side of Steve’s throat as he sat gazing up at her in surprise.

‘Ma?’

He was slipping outwards over the edge of the rock, a trail of scarlet droplets oozing down his shirt. As Meryn’s hand snatched at Peggy’s wrist, Steve half rose to his feet, his hand clasped to his neck as he lost his balance and began to fall.

‘Steve!’ Hugh lunged forward. With a supreme effort he managed to catch the young man’s arm. For a moment the two men swayed to and fro on the edge of the ravine, then with a desperate heave Hugh dragged him back and half pushed, half threw him into the bushes behind them.

Peggy stared down at her son, puzzled, then staggered towards him as he lay sprawled at her feet in the wet grass.

‘Leave him alone. You’re insane –’ Hugh tried to push her away, but he was off balance and she was too strong for him.

‘Steve? You have to go, sweetheart!’ Stooping, she snatched at the knife handle which protruded from Steve’s shirt above his collar bone.

‘Leave it! You’ll kill him if you pull it out … !’ Hugh’s words faded helplessly on his lips as Peggy wrenched out the blade and blood fountained out of the wound, drenching the ground. With a little gasp, Steve fell back.

Peggy looked round soberly. ‘I salute you, Professor. And you, great Druid!’ She glanced at Meryn. She was herself again. ‘But there was nothing to be done. The goddess needed her sacrifice as she still needs her messenger.’ She raised her hand towards Steve’s body and blew him a kiss, then turning, the knife still clutched in her hand, she leaped out into the falls.

VII

Hugh knelt down beside Steve and pressed two fingers gently to his neck, feeling for a pulse through the stickiness of the blood. He slumped beside the young man and took a deep breath, shaking his head. ‘He’s gone.’

‘No!’ Viv threw herself down beside him. ‘No, please! Can’t we try the kiss of life? Something?’ Tears were pouring down her face as behind them the falls roared on, oblivious to the tragedy in which they had played such a part.

‘I’m afraid it’s no use,’ Meryn answered her gently. ‘I saw his spirit leave.’ He stooped over Steve and closing the young man’s eyes, carefully straightened his head, resting it gently on the mossy bank behind him as the two dogs crept closer, huddling against his body.

Hugh looked up at Meryn. He was white with shock. ‘And Peggy?’ His voice was husky.

Meryn shook his head. ‘They are both gone.’

Sobbing, Viv flung herself into Hugh’s arms, her face buried in his shoulder, her fingers clinging to his wet shirt. ‘How could she? She loved him!’

Hugh closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair. She could feel him trembling as he held her. He seemed incapable of speech.

Wearily, Meryn moved across to the rock where Steve had been sitting only seconds before and he stood, staring down into the churning waters. There was no sign of Peggy in the darkness and the misted spray below him.

The blue plastic mug out of which Steve had been drinking had lodged in a crack of rock, half hidden by ferns. With a sigh he stooped and retrieved it. In this world of rules and law and forensics the sticky residue in the bottom would no doubt be evidence as so much of what had occurred here would not. As far as the police were concerned, this case would be straightforward. Peggy, pushed over the edge of sanity, had killed her husband and, unable to deal with what she had done, had murdered her son and then committed suicide. The coroner would not hear about Venutios or Medb or Cartimandua. He would never know that these deaths were part of a chain of events stretching back nearly two thousand years.

Turning with another deep sigh, he walked back to Hugh and Viv, glancing beyond them to see two figures appearing in the distance. Pat and James had come the long way round by the path. James had a torch in his hand.

‘Are you all right?’ James called as they approached. He hurried ahead of Pat. ‘The police are on their way.’ We saw their Land Rovers at the end of the track. They’re on their way to take us all back to the farm.’ He stopped abruptly, looking down at Steve. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m afraid we’ve had a double tragedy,’ Meryn said gently.

James held his gaze for a moment, then he moved forward and stiffly knelt at Steve’s side. Putting his hand over Steve’s cold fingers, he began to pray quietly as Pat hurried up behind him.

‘Steve?’

Viv moved away from Hugh. She was still crying. ‘Peggy stabbed him. He’s dead!’ Her voice broke in anguish.

Pat’s mouth fell open. ‘Jesus!’ she breathed. ‘Oh God! Poor Steve!’

‘This is all my fault!’ Viv cried suddenly. ‘If I hadn’t come to the farm! If I hadn’t written the stupid book!’ Her voice slid up hysterically.

‘No.’ Meryn put his hands on her shoulders and held her firmly, forcing her to look at him. ‘You must never let yourself think that. Not for a moment. You three have been used. You were catalysts. If there is fault, and perhaps destiny is a better word, then it was the destiny of all of us, myself included, to be part of this drama tonight.’

Somewhere above them they could hear a helicopter in the distance, the beat of its rotors echoing from the rocks as it hovered above the hillside.

Help was on its way.

It was nearly four in the morning before the exhausted group of survivors sat down around the kitchen table at Winter Gill. Gordon’s and Steve’s bodies had been taken away and Peggy’s retrieved from the river, and the police had gone at last. Meryn took the head of the table as Hugh threw himself into the chair next to Viv. Beyond them Pat and James sat glumly opposite one another, too tired even to speak. The two dogs were huddled together beside Meryn’s chair.

Meryn gave them each a long steady look across the table. ‘I want you all to understand that there were forces involved here tonight which no one could fight. Stories which had assumed such an impetus that nothing could stop them being told. These deaths have been the cataclysmic result of two millennia of emotions which had never been resolved. Nothing that we could do would have stopped them. We all have our weaknesses and maybe we need each of us to acknowledge that they may have played a part in all this, but it’s done now. Finished.’

There was a long silence. Finally, Viv cleared her throat. ‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel I could ever sleep again.’ Tears spilled over suddenly and she dashed them away miserably. ‘The police have gone away thinking this is all some sort of horrifying ‘‘domestic’’ which got out of hand. We know better. For Steve’s sake we must make sure it’s over.’ Her voice cracked into a sob. ‘Are we sure that the story has been told?’

‘We can be sure.’ Meryn nodded. ‘We know the truth. The protagonists can rest in peace. The gods have had their last sacrifice.’

Pat was turning a cigarette packet round and round in her fingers. ‘So, how does it finish? We know about Venutios and Medb’s curse. We know about Vellocatus. We know why Cartimandua supported the Romans. What else happened?’

‘Gaius!’ Viv whispered slowly. ‘He was too late! Then he took Carta away from her people.’ She fell silent. It was as though she could hear his voice in the distance.

‘I saved Cartimandua! If Venutios had captured her, she would have died! My men and I took her over the pack horse trails to Deva after the king’s dun fell to Venutios. As did all the other hill forts and townships one by one. He took back the whole of Brigantia.’ He paused. ‘Then he declared war on Rome.

‘She had a good life, though. The governor at Deva took her into his own villa. She was given a suite of rooms, slaves, all the Roman luxuries she had loved so much and more she had never dreamed of: hot showers, central heating. The Romans were grateful for all she did for them over the years. They did not forget.’

But then nor did history. As the echo faded, Viv looked down at the table with a sigh. To historians Cartimandua would always be a quisling – the Celtic queen who sold out to the Romans.

Pat groped in the crumpled packet for her last cigarette and lit it with shaking hands. ‘What happened to Venutios in the end?’ she asked.

Viv gave a wry grimace. ‘Somehow I know that too. He found the brooch in the smouldering ruins of Dun Righ and for a long time he thought Cartimandua was dead.’ She shook her head. ‘Mairghread told him the truth. She had gone with Cartimandua to Deva but she couldn’t bring herself to stay in a Roman household and she went back to Brigantia. Venutios gave her a home.’ She paused sadly. ‘We know from history that the Romans defeated him in the end. In a great battle near Stanwick. Even the ghost fence didn’t save him. It was all pointless.’

‘Was he killed?’

Viv shrugged. ‘I expect so.’ She glanced up at Hugh. ‘Perhaps the answer to that one will be in your book.’

‘I doubt it. There won’t be any guessing in my book.’ He looked mortified as soon as the words were out of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry. That came out wrong …’

‘Did it?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I shall expect you to send me a copy, then I can read your conclusions.’

Hugh stared at her. ‘I won’t need to send it, Viv. I shall give it to you myself.’

‘Not if I accept the post they’ve offered me in Ireland.’

There was a long silence. Viv was aware of everyone’s eyes fixed on her face. ‘Better money. Supportive team, so I’m assured. Far away from all this.’ She shrugged miserably.

‘Viv, please. We have to talk about this.’ Hugh reached over and took her hands in his. ‘You can’t go. Not after everything that has happened. I need you. I can’t live without you.’

She looked up at him and for a moment they held one another’s gaze. Slowly she smiled. ‘That’s one I’ll have to think about.’

Pat cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps this is a good moment to change the subject.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic box. ‘I’d forgotten in all the awful mess of what’s happened. What do you want to do with this?’

They all stared at it as she put it down in the middle of the table.

‘Where did you find that?’ Viv asked huskily.

‘Where you told me to look.’

No one touched it.

‘I wonder how it finally ended up at Stanwick,’ Hugh said slowly at last.

Viv shrugged. ‘Venutios took it there.’ She wasn’t sure how she knew this any more than all the other certainties which were in her head. ‘He and Mairghread buried it there with all its evil and no one touched it for nearly two thousand years.’

‘Till Wheeler and my father came along.’ Hugh grimaced. He gave a wry, humourless laugh.

‘Are we ever going to tell this story now? Or are we going to be the only ones who know what happened?’ Pat asked at last. Her voice was flat.

‘I think you should. Don’t let the Steadmans have died in vain,’ James put in. He glanced at Meryn. ‘You owe it to them. Steve, I feel sure, would want the truth told. Perhaps you could dedicate your play to his memory.’ He paused. ‘As for this,’ he reached forward and held his hand for a moment over the box, ‘I think it should be destroyed.’

Meryn smiled enigmatically. Taking off the lid, he lifted the brooch out of its box and examined it closely. ‘I will cleanse it of Medb’s curse and we will ask James to bless it. A double whammy like that should sort it out.’ He nodded gravely. ‘Then we will return it to its owner.’ He looked at Hugh. ‘Personally I agree with James. It should be disposed of. I would toss it into the falls, but I suspect the historian in you will want to see it put back behind glass. If so, I suggest it remains there for good.’ He paused. ‘We have seen terrible tragedy here tonight. Not because anyone was malicious or culpable or careless but because you were all involved in a tangled passionate story from long, long ago, all linked by one thing. You all touched this brooch. For all your sakes, that involvement must end now. Peggy and Gordon and Steve were drawn in by the land on which they lived; by the gods whom they encountered here. In my view, Viv, you and Pat should write your play to bring this all finally to an end. But no more consultations with the leading characters. Let them rest in peace. They have gone. Just use the material you have already.’

There was a long silence, broken at last as Hugh cleared his throat. ‘So, no orthodox research at all, then,’ he said wryly. ‘Just what we in the trade call counter-factual speculation.’ He sighed. ‘Well, maybe in the long run it makes history just that bit more interesting!’

‘There is one thing we don’t know yet,’ Pat interrupted. She was very pale with dark rings under her eyes, utterly exhausted. ‘What happened to Carta in the end?’

‘I don’t think I want to know,’ Viv put in hastily. ‘Let’s leave it there. Please. I agree with Meryn. Enough is enough. No more research.’

‘Until the next book,’ Hugh put in.

‘And the play. We’re still a team, right?’ Pat added quietly. ‘The Daughters of Fire will write again. Won’t they?’

VIII

A week later Viv had another dream.

Cartimandua, white-haired now, was sitting by a fountain in a small courtyard. There were pots of lavender and rosemary near her and a brace of puppies were playing in the sun. A slave had brought her a letter and carefully she broke the seal and unrolled it. It was written in the secret script of the Druids. She frowned. It was a long time since she had deciphered such letters.

To the Lady Cartimandua
Extensive enquiries have been made as to the whereabouts of your daughter and at last she has been found. She was taken as a babe to Iou, the island of Druids, off the lands of the Caledones in the ocean where the sun sets, and is now a senior student in the college there, far beyond the reach of Rome. She is well and content and much praised for her skills as a poet and a healer. And she has her mother’s way with horses.
from Gruoch the Druidess
Hail, blessing and farewell

Carta put down the letter and smiled.

Thank you, Vivienne, she whispered. Blessed goddess, thank you!