by Beth Webb
‘I’m bored.’ Ula’s mistress yawned. ‘I want someone to talk to. Have you dined?’
‘No, my lady.’ Tegen’s empty belly rumbled.
The woman nodded. ‘Good. You will follow and share my repast while you tell me your story.’ She drew her curtains closed and clicked her fingers. ‘Lift!’ The silent slaves bent their backs and obeyed, followed by the soldiers, two in front, four behind, with two more walking either side of a baggage cart at the rear.
Sighing, Tegen mounted Epona and followed the swaying litter. How could she excuse herself? She considered the soldiers from the corner of her eye. She had seen the work of their short, stabbing swords. Even if she kicked Epona into a gallop, she could not outrun their javelins. She was trapped. But her rumbling stomach warned that she needed food. For the sake of her baby she must eat as well as possible.
Damn! Tegen swore silently. It’s my own stupid fault. I should’ve travelled on ancient trackways, whatever else these bastards have done to my beloved land, their roads are superb. Too tempting to use!
Tegen leaned over Epona’s neck and whispered, ‘From the smoke above the trees I’d say there’s a settlement ahead. That means good fodder and a rubdown for you. We’ll tolerate this woman for one mealtime, and then we’ll get on the road again. We may have to sleep rough tonight, but that doesn’t matter. We’ve done it before.’
Epona snorted and tossed her head as she trotted sedately behind the litter.
The land on both sides was flat and becoming progressively marshy with smallholdings dotted across the scrub landscape. As the crimson sun lowered on their right-hand side, dark clouds swept from the east, bruising the sky purple. The wind blew cold and Tegen shivered, but at last, the long straight road brought them to a low hill with a garrison and its small township.
The procession slowed. ‘Where are we, Ula?’ Tegen called out.
‘Colonia Lindensium. I think you’d call it Lindum.’ She pointed towards a white-walled, red-roofed inn built in a u-shape around a courtyard near the road. ‘That’s where we’re staying tonight.’
Tegen had never been inside a Roman building before. She was intrigued, but worried too. She twisted Epona’s reins around her fingers. How would she be treated? Was this a trap? Had her dress betrayed her?
At the entrance, slaves took charge of the animals and baggage. Tegen surreptitiously wove a spell of protection over her beloved horse as a boy led her away.
Epona would be safe, but what would happen to her?
They were led to a rectangular room. Tegen’s jaw dropped; she’d never seen such opulence before.
She put her bag in a corner and tentatively stroked the smoothly plastered walls, admiring the red and yellow painted panels. Several spoon-backed wicker chairs were placed around a low table in the centre. Against one wall stood a large wooden cupboard and a long couch with red woollen cushions.
Slaves brought warm water. Ula helped her mistress wash and change into a clean tunic. Under the woman’s too-white make-up was a pretty young girl with olive skin and dark eyes.
‘My name is Claudia Prima Metella,’ she said as the slave worked. ‘My father is Julius Claudius Metellus. He was a terribly important commander in the twentieth legion, based in Deva. He’s retired now and he’s been given land in Camulodunum in the east. He’s there already, supervising the building of our new villa, and I’m on my way to join him. I’m a widow you see.’
Tegen was about to add that so was she and to extend her sympathies, but Claudia made it quite clear that her guest was not expected to do more than listen attentively. ‘I was married last Inuius, but within two weeks my husband was killed in an awful battle in the land of the Ceangli in that unholy mountainous region where the barbaric Cymry live.’ She rolled her eyes in horror. ‘There were all these demons on an island and they slaughtered everyone – well almost everyone. Certainly my husband killed his fair share of barbarians before he had his throat ripped out by those ghastly wizards … what do you call them? Druids, that’s it!’ She spat and swatted Ula for spilling a drop of rose water on her dress.
When the washing was complete, Claudia sat by a wind-eye, looking out onto a courtyard garden, while Ula combed out her mistress’s hair.
Tegen touched the shaggy tufts on her own head. Hot tears burned her eyes. Once more her mind replayed images of Tonn lying unburied in the mud …
But Claudia was still rambling on about how bravely her husband had fought alongside the noble, most glorious governor of the Britannic Isles: Suetonius Paulinus.
Tegen pulled her green silk shawl forward and hung her head. Her eyes stung with tears, remembering the cruelty, the slaughter, and how her beloved Tonn had mercifully sent so many of the badly wounded of both sides to Tir na nÓg with his knife.
Her blood boiled. These are my friends she’s insulting! She wasn’t there; she doesn’t know what it was like! Tegen’s cheeks flared red, but she could say and do nothing. It was too dangerous! If only she hadn’t fallen asleep by the roadside she wouldn’t be in this mess. And why was she so cowed by this invader? She was just a girl of her own age.
Tegen sighed. All her courage had left her since Tonn died. She kept her eyes downcast, examining the minutiae of the magnificent mosaic floor, a circle of flowers in tesserae – tiny stones of blood red, cinder black and bone white.
Then she remembered another stone with those colours – Tonn’s last gift to her – a smooth white marble egg with blood-coloured veins. ‘Keep this to remember me,’ he’d said. ‘It’s my druid’s egg. No one can gainsay you while you hold it.’
Tegen opened her waist pouch and touched the stone’s cool smoothness. She should be stronger, but she was so heart-weary.
Just then, Ula interrupted with fresh water and offered to help Tegen bathe.
‘I’ll see to myself, thank you.’ She smiled and took the linen towel from the slave’s arm. It was only then she let the silk shawl fall, revealing her shaggy hair and the dark tattoo on her face.
Ula’s eyes opened wide. ‘You’re a …’ she began, but Tegen put her finger to her lips. The slave’s hands shook and the washbowl slipped and shattered. Hot water spilled everywhere and Claudia laid about Ula with her fan.
Tegen leapt to her feet. ‘Stop!’
Claudia and Ula both gawped open-mouthed at their guest.
‘It was my fault. I knocked the bowl,’ Tegen announced.
Claudia lowered her head and flared her nostrils. ‘She’s my slave, how dare you interfere?’ she began.
Tegen raised her hands and spread a spell of calm across the room. ‘You will be still, Claudia,’ she said firmly and quietly. ‘I smell food coming. Now, sit, eat and I will tell you my story.’
At that moment the door opened and slaves entered with omelettes, fresh cabbage leaves wrapped around olives and duck breasts, little dormice stuffed and roasted on a spit and brown sticky fruit.
Tegen sat at the table, but Claudia stared at her, wide-eyed in disbelief.
‘I said sit and eat.’ Tegen repeated.
Timidly, Claudia obeyed.
Tegen loaded her plate and between mouthfuls she told her tale. ‘I was born in the west country, on the Mendip hills, overlooking the Winter Seas. I travelled with friends who were salt merchants and when I had the chance, I studied a little herbal medicine.
‘I’ve also been married – twice. The first time to a fine man who was killed by a cave demon (dear Griff, I still miss you!) and then to a man from another land who was a healer. He drowned (was murdered, sacrificed, betrayed by his friends for no good reason, my poor beloved Tonn). ‘I cut my hair in mourning.’ Tegen ran her fingers through her untidy mop.
Claudia sneered. ‘Hacked your hair more like! Ula!’
The girl, who’d been clearing up the mess, bowed before her mistress.
‘After we have eaten, you are to take the shears to Mistress Tegen’s hair and style it as best you can. Now, we are thirsty.’
Ula piled the s
hards of bowl in a neat heap and poured purple liquid from a jug into red earthenware cups.
‘Is that wine?’ Tegen asked hopefully.
‘Goodness no!’ Claudia snapped. ‘Ladies don’t drink wine; it’s not seemly. This is grape juice. Now, you may continue with your tale. I am interested.’
Tegen sipped the dark, sweet liquor. ‘Now I am alone again, I am searching for relatives to take me in.’
While Tegen spoke, Claudia wriggled uncomfortably in her chair. ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ she said, dashing out of the door, her retreating sandals tapping urgently along the corridor as she ran. ‘Where’s she going?’
‘Madam has a weak stomach,’ Ula giggled. ‘She often needs the lavatorium. But while she’s gone let me cut your hair. Please come and sit by the wind-eye.’ Ula draped a cloth over Tegen’s shoulders, then taking a comb and shears from her bag, she began to cut.
As she worked, Ula leaned close to Tegen’s ear and whispered, ‘You’re a druid, aren’t you?’
Tegen sensed she could trust this girl. ‘Yes.’
‘Then I have secrets I need to tell you …’
‘Go on, I’m listening.’
‘Later. Madam will be back at any moment. Stay still please, or I might cut badly.
Tegen obeyed. ‘Where are you from Ula? How do you know about druids?’
‘I’m Gaulish. My father was a great warrior and my mother and I were enslaved after his defeat.’
‘I’m sorry. Did you teach Claudia to speak British?’
Ula leaned across the shears and laughed. ‘Her father was indeed a great general, but her mother was a Gaulish slave like me – although she’d rather cut out her own tongue than admit it. She’s her father’s only living child and the apple of his eye. When she reaches Camulodunum, she’s to be betrothed to a British nobleman, then married next summer. It’s hoped their union will be politically useful.’
‘Are they in love?’ Tegen asked.
Ula snorted and tried to comb what was left of Tegen’s hair into a pretty shape. ‘They haven’t even met. I pity whoever marries her!’
Just then the door opened. Claudia reappeared, whey faced and clutching her stomach. ‘Did you say you studied medicine?’ she asked. ‘My father would never trust a woman healer, he says they’re witches and should all be put to the sword. But I like you, can you help me?’
‘I’ll see what I have in my bag. I know I have chamomile,’ Tegen replied, and then they returned to their meal, which was now cold.
As they ate, the skies lit up and thunder roared. Rain lashed and Ula closed the clattering shutters. All the rain in Taranis’ vast stores was pouring to earth at once. There was no way Tegen could sneak away. She would have to stay the night.
More importantly, she hadn’t yet had a chance to hear Ula’s secrets. The girl was frightened.
Tegen resolved to find a way to be alone with her.
Ula’s Secrets
After dinner, slaves brought in clay oil lamps and bedding. Claudia chose the softest blankets and stretched out on the dining couch.
Tegen pulled her straw mattress near the wind-eye and lay awake, her mind churning with all that had happened. Less than half a moon before she’d been with the other eleven druids, possibly the only ones left in the whole of Britain. They’d sacrificed her beloved to the gods to drive the Romans out: Tonn, prince of Ériu, druid, healer, and father of her child. Without being allowed time to mourn, she’d been forced to make her way alone to the lands of the Iceni to stand as battle druid by the side of Boudica.
Boudica! Tegen tossed on her bed. The queen had once supported the Romans.
‘Don’t make judgements,’ she whispered to herself. ‘She’s learned, and now she’s doing the right thing. Because of her, Britain is raising its spears against the invaders and it’s my duty to help. Defeating Rome is the only thing that’ll make sense of Tonn’s stupid, stupid death.’
Tegen stared into the dark, remembering her darling lying face down in a bog. She had buried him with her own black hair and the water she’d dragged from the earth by the fiercest of spells. She’d ruined the crops by that storm and flood. She’d slashed at the sacred web of magic and abused it cruelly.
Hot tears streamed down Tegen’s cheeks as she sobbed. The noise of her grief would never be heard above the battering rain that lashed the inn.
The following morning was bright and fresh. Tegen woke and breakfasted while Ula washed and massaged her mistress with scented oils, then plucked any stray hairs from her body with tweezers. Throughout it all, Claudia screamed and swore. At last, draped in a towel, she bolted out of the room. ‘A curse on this place for not having a bathhouse. It’s uncivilised!’ she yelled, and slammed the door.
Tegen glanced at Ula. ‘Now, tell me your secrets.’
The slave spoke softly as she tidied up. ‘You know that Boudica is no longer a friend of the Romans?’ she asked nervously.
‘I do.’
‘But do you know why?’
Tegen shook her head. So much had happened to her in the last few moons, she hadn’t given the question much thought. ‘I’d assumed the queen had decided to do what was right?’
Ula folded her mistress’s clothes and packed them into a basket. ‘You know of course that Boudica was married to king Prasutagus. For many years he’d been hand-in-glove with the Romans. Whether he was a traitor, or simply thought it was his best chance for peace, I have no idea. But he did well out of it. The Romans gave him huge gifts of money and left him pretty well alone. But when he died last year, he willed his kingdom to be split, half going to his two daughters Megan and Oriana and the rest to the Emperor Nero.’
‘That’s a very odd thing to do,’ Tegen put in. ‘Why didn’t he leave everything to Boudica?’
The girl leaned forward and whispered, ‘Roman law dictates that the Emperor’s agreement was with Prasutagus, not his wife or descendants. In fact, in Rome, women aren’t allowed to inherit anything …’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Tegen scoffed.
‘That’s the way it is.’ Ula shrugged. ‘Strictly speaking a woman may only own half a gold piece. Anyway, the Roman procurator Catus Decianus ignored the will and immediately marched into Iceni territory. He said all the gifts of money to Prasutagus were loans and had to be repaid immediately, and he demanded the whole Iceni kingdom to be gifted to Nero! Decianus then made the kings’ relatives captive, threw all the chieftains off their lands and parcelled everything out to his favourites. Soldiers looted the royal house and …’
Ula stopped and hung her head. She was blushing under her veil.
‘What?’ Tegen demanded urgently.
‘He had Boudica dragged into the street, stripped and publicly flogged. And the girls, Megan and Oriana, they were only ten and twelve years old.’ Ula looked up, her eyes red and her face taut. ‘He let slaves rape them!’ Then she burst into tears.
The blood roared in Tegen’s ears and she felt sick. How could she have tolerated being the guest of a Roman? She should’ve used magic, her druid’s egg – anything to get away before now. She stood. She had to leave.
But before she could gather her thoughts, Claudia returned and launched into a stream of orders for Ula. Tegen tried to help, but Claudia was disdainful. ‘Anyone can see you are of noble birth; it’s not your fault you’re a pagan. Anyway, Ula is lazy; I’ll get one of the men to whip her later. Be careful!’ she roared as the exhausted girl almost tripped with a tray of perfumed oils.
Tegen was determined to distract Claudia from her bullying. She had to slip away unnoticed and without Ula being blamed. ‘How do you feel this morning? I fear the chamomile I gave you last night wasn’t strong enough for what ails you.’
Claudia leaned back on a pillow and allowed Ula to apply her dead-white makeup. ‘I feel dreadful. I never sleep and my guts are agony. This imbecile of a girl does nothing to make things easier for me, have you seen the way she treats me?’
Tegen’s temper snap
ped once more. ‘I’ve seen she works very hard and without complaining. I’ve also seen the bruises you inflict on her for nothing. However, I suspect your temper is foul because you’re ill.’ Tegen turned to Ula. ‘Give me that face cream, do you make it up yourself? What’s in it?’
Claudia sniffed derisively. ‘I wouldn’t trust her to do something like that. It’s made by no less a man than the apothecary to the Governor himself! What’s in it? I don’t know, why should I?’
Tegen took the small enamel pot, touched and smelled the white paste, then licked it. ‘Claudia, if you keep using this preparation, not only will you continue to be ill, but you may well die. It has lead in it.’
‘Oh, everyone knows that!’ Claudia sniffed. ‘I thought you meant what secret ingredients did it have? Lead is what makes the face so pure and white. I can’t risk being seen in public as hideously dark as the gods have seen fit to make me. Heavens, I’m almost as brown as Ula!’
The slave blushed and hung her head.
Tegen persisted. ‘Lead may make your face white, but it also prevents you from sleeping and stirs up the spirits in your bowels.’
‘Rubbish!’ Claudia snapped, then with a groan she made another dash for the lavatorium.
Ula left the room on errands for her mistress. Tegen wondered whether this was her chance to flee – but she had no idea where Epona was. What if Claudia sent soldiers after her?
Think, she told herself. Claudia’s ‘collected’ me like a plaything. She’s nothing but a spoiled brat. She’ll soon get bored and she’ll send me away.
For the moment, Tegen was glad of the silence. She would never cease to grieve for Tonn. The anger at the stupidity of his death raged inside her. Her old mentor Gronw would say she mustn’t let her feelings overwhelm her – the anger would damage the balance of right and wrong in the world. If she couldn’t control her own emotions, how would she defeat the demon that still pursued her?
