After a bit of small talk and complimenting their appearances and devotion to the goddess, Dana had handed out small gifts of sweet meats. She said a brief prayer to the goddess and asked Fiona to walk with her. The others murmured about her good fortune in being favored by Dana.
“The mottle-faced girl froze in her steps,” Dana said. “She turned her head toward the women drifting back to the village.”
Dana paused and took another sip of tea.
“She was frightened of something, wasn’t she?” Rhian said.
“Indeed,” Caratacus added. “Continue, Dana.”
Dana pursed her lips. “I told her she could trust me and assured her I wouldn’t betray her confidence. At first, she hesitated, but I said if she didn’t confide in someone, she might go mad. I promised she would have your protection.”
“She will,” Caratacus said with a gesture of his hand.
“We continued our walk,” Dana said. “That’s when Fiona described the horror she witnessed in the forest.”
About eight months before, Fiona had gone searching for a lamb that had strayed from the flock into the woods. She was afraid of wandering accidentally onto a secret rite and being murdered. Her mum and da had warned her the forest was full of dangers—evil spirits who killed people. Fiona’s curiosity overcame her fear, and she went farther into the woods, although she stayed to the bushes. She heard a chant in a language she didn’t understand. It grew louder with her every step.
“At that point,” Dana said, “Fiona seemed hesitant to say anymore. I encouraged her to continue.
“Fiona reluctantly went on. The young woman caught the light of a glimmering fire and stopped to peek through the underbrush. At first, Fiona was afraid she had made too much noise rustling the branches. But the droning chant was so loud she didn’t believe anyone had heard her. She paused and looked about before continuing. Then she saw five or six men or women dressed in homespun robes. One was an old man who wore a golden crescent moon, and like everyone in the village, Fiona knew only a Druid could wear that symbol,” Dana added.
“Did she recognize the priest?” Caratacus asked.
“She gave me a description.” Dana told Caratacus what he looked like.
“It’s Ibor!” Caratacus said. “I would know his cobwebbed face anywhere. What else did Fiona tell you?”
“Close by, Fiona spotted a dark-haired, young man dressed in a rich, tartan tunic and breeches, wearing a long, drooping moustache,” Dana answered. “Fiona had seen him ride through the village before with a hunting party. At the time, he was only another rich nobleman to her. But later she saw him again on another hunt. So she asked her father, and he said it was Prince Adminios.”
A chill shot through Caratacus’s body. “Was she certain?”
“As certain as I’m sitting here, Caratacus,” Dana answered. “I asked her again to be sure.”
“Go on,” Caratacus urged. He took a bit of bread, chewed, and swallowed, followed by another drink of mead.
Dana explained that Fiona spotted something near the altar she had never seen before, four trees growing out of one trunk. Next to it stood a young mother holding a baby in her arms. The child couldn’t have been more than three or four days old. The woman was squeezed between two acolytes, who were making sure that she didn’t escape.
“The mother pleaded for their lives, but it was no good,” Dana said. “The poor woman screamed, but the two acolytes muffled her, and the priest drove a knife into her chest, killing her.
“At that point, Fiona stopped speaking, her dark eyes took on a haunted look. She turned away and halted.”
Dana sighed and glanced to Rhian, who shook her head. “I saw tears running down the sides of her face and placed an arm around Fiona’s shoulder and drew her close as she quietly wept.”
“It must have been a horrible experience for her,” Rhian said in a rasping voice. “Just listening to the story makes my blood turn cold.”
“I know,” Dana answered in little more than a whisper. “I barely contained my own horror and disgust.”
“No one should witness such things,” Caratacus said. He cocked his head. “There must be more. Normally, sacrificial victims are volunteers from the nobility.”
“Fiona wiped her face, and I asked if she was feeling better. She wasn’t but needed to finish the tale.”
Dana explained that she scanned the oak-filled woods about them and, not seeing anyone about, told Fiona to continue.
The girl had watched as the priest drained the blood from the baby’s jugular vein, and then both he and the mother were beheaded. The acolytes dismembered the child and placed the parts between the feet of the mother in a shallow grave. The Druid raised the wooden bowl with the baby’s blood skyward and recited words Fiona didn’t understand. When finished, the priest drank the blood and poured the rest over the burial site.
“All this time, Adminios watched the horrible rites and didn’t say a word,” Dana said. “When it was over, he gave the Druid a silver, triple-headed horse amulet.”
Caratacus held up a hand.
“What is it?” Dana asked.
“I know that amulet, it belongs to Adminios.”
“How do you know?” Rhian questioned.
Caratacus nodded. “There isn’t another charm like it in the kingdom. Adminios received it from Da when he officially reached manhood.” He gestured to Dana with a hand. “Go on with your story, what did the Druid do with it?”
“He placed the charm in a small, gold box with a finger bone from the baby and gave the container to a female acolyte,” Dana said. “He ordered her to bury it next to the bodies.
“I told Fiona that you must be informed about Adminios’s misdeed,” Dana added. “Fiona understood, but I gasped when she told me what the Druid said next.”
Rhian took a breath.
“What did Ibor say?” Caratacus asked.
“He turned to Adminios and spoke the following words: ‘Oh, Great Prince, I foresee that within one summer the kingship will be yours alone. You shall have the blessings of all the Druids.’
“Then Fiona said Adminios placed a curse on you, Husband, and swore to kill you.”
Rhian gasped and shook her head.
Caratacus slapped his thigh with the palm of his hand. “Adminios is a dirty traitor—I knew it! Damn him!”
“What an evil man,” Dana added.
“He is more than that,” Rhian hissed. She drew a finger across the front of her neck from one side to the other. “This is what he deserves.”
Caratacus took a deep breath, opening and clenching his fists several times before the muscles relaxed. “What else did Fiona hear?”
“Nothing, Caratacus,” Dana said. “Fiona had been hypnotized by the gruesome rites, but finally came to her senses and fled the woods before she was discovered.”
“Thank Mother Goddess Anu that she wasn’t,” Rhian said.
“Fiona said the experience was so terrible that she didn’t tell anybody until the day I saw her,” Dana added. “She was afraid of being kidnapped and sacrificed. She is certain her friend, Aife, will keep her mouth shut.”
“She better,” Caratacus said. Fiona’s story must not spread. As much as I would hate to do it, she would meet with an accident.
“I assured Fiona I was the right person to help her,” Dana said. “I admit I was shaken by Fiona’s ghoulish revelations.” She drew a deep breath and remained silent, apparently composing herself.
A roar-like, crashing surf on the beach filled Caratacus’s ears. Heat burned his face. He wanted to growl like a bear. If this Fiona is telling the truth, Adminios will pay for this outrage, and pay dearly.
Chapter 30
“I have something to tell you,” Caratacus said to his wives. He described the council meeting and the reports that Adminios was conspiring with the Romans who planned to invade Britannia.
“Until you told me that Fiona heard Ibor’s proclamation that Adminios would be the ne
xt king, I believed this sacrifice might have been a separate piece of treachery—simply my murder. Now that the Romans are involved, it is important that Da and the High Council are warned before he arrives.”
“But Ibor must not be told,” Rhian advised.
“He won’t, I’ll see to that,” Caratacus answered. “Can Fiona find the sacrificial place again?”
“I asked her the same question, and she believes she can,” Dana answered. “I told her not to say a word to anyone, not even her people, until I sent word we were ready to help her.”
“Tomorrow we’ll go out and search the area,” Caratacus said through tight lips. “If Adminios and Ibor are involved, they will pay for their treachery and murders of the poor woman and her child.”
“Then you believe us?” Rhian asked.
“About the sacrifice and amulet, yes. I’d say the peasant girl told you the truth. Adminios is always hunting. So the peasants might have seen him in the area of Usk.”
“Fiona has no reason to lie,” Dana said.
“Probably not, she’d be afraid of being punished,” Caratacus said. “It’s worth a look.”
“All I ask is that you make a real effort,” Dana said. “But please, the girl must be protected.”
“I agree,” Rhian said.
Caratacus stared at Rhian and then Dana. “The girl will be protected. You have my word. Only Clud, Tog, and a few of my trusted men will go with us. As far as anyone will know, I’m taking my wives on a hunting party.”
“I’ll send word for Fiona to be ready.” Dana laid down her cup.
Caratacus shook his head. “No, Dana. I don’t want Fiona to know until we arrive in the village.”
“Why?” Rhian asked.
“News of our journey will spread soon enough,” Caratacus answered. “A large welcome by the peasants is the last thing we need. Some would become suspicious, especially when we take one of their girls with us.”
Caratacus gestured to Dana. “The word must be spread that you want a female guide.”
“And it’s true,” Dana said. “The village knows I favored her, and we need her to show us the tree.”
“Good. That’ll alleviate suspicions. The old clan chieftain will be appeased and honored.”
“I hope she stays quiet,” Rhian added.
“Fiona will,” Dana said. “She’s afraid she’ll be next!”
*
The following day Caratacus’s band of twenty hand-picked warriors, including Tog and Clud, along with Dana, Rhian, and Fiona, searched the cold gloom of the great, oak forest on horseback. For several hours they scoured the woods near the village of Usk looking for the hidden sacrificial site.
“So far we’ve found nothing. Are you sure about the location?” Caratacus asked in disgust. He glared at Fiona’s pinched face. “Four trees out of one trunk, indeed!”
“But it’s true, Great Prince,” Fiona pleaded as she walked alongside Dana’s mount. Fiona’s close-set, dark eyes seemed fearful of his possible wrath. “It is around here, I know it. It’s just that everything looks the same in the forest.” She ran ahead a short distance.
“The afternoon is growing late,” Rhian said, “but let’s search for at least another hour, Husband. I believe the girl. My heart tells me what she says is true. The bodies are here, somewhere.”
Caratacus spat. “The trouble is, where? There are hundreds of square miles of forest.”
“Look, Prince Caratacus,” Fiona called. “Over there, I think that’s the place.” She pointed to an oak with four trees growing out of one trunk. “The altar was next to it.”
Caratacus halted. For the length of a half-dozen heartbeats he stared at the warped tree. By Teutates, she told the truth. Carved into one was the discolored shape of a crescent moon.
“This has to be it,” Rhian said. “No one but a Druid uses the sacred crescent.”
Caratacus snapped out of his thoughts. “Let’s take a closer look. I doubt if we will find another tree like this.” Caratacus studied the surrounding area. “If there was a sacrifice, the altar must have been in this clearing.”
“Obviously, they tore it down and destroyed any evidence of its existence,” Rhian said. “You can see where branches and limbs were cut to make room.” She pointed to the darkened limb stumps close to the trunk.
Fiona pointed to an opening covered by rotted leaves and other decaying vegetation. “I think that’s where the woman and baby are buried, Prince Caratacus.”
Caratacus nodded to his party. “All right, we’ll not take any chances. Get down on your knees and start probing.”
The men and women formed a line, shoulder to shoulder, slowly moving forward as each probed the soft forest earth with sword tips and daggers.
After excavating for about fifteen minutes, a warrior waved to Caratacus. “Over here, Prince Caratacus, I found something.” He gouged the object to the surface with his sword. “A rock!” Some of the men laughed.
Dana and Rhian scowled at the men. Dana’s hands were stained from digging. “Are you sure there was a box?” she asked Fiona.
Caratacus hiked to the spot pointed out by the man. He slid his sword from the scabbard on his belt at the waist and shoved it into the ground. He felt a thud against his probing sword point. The others turned at the sound and watched. With a few sharp prods of Caratacus’s weapon, the handle shot back into his palm from the impact. He dropped to his knees, laid the sword next to him, and dug with a dagger. Carefully, he clawed the dirt away revealing the skeleton of an adult covered in rotting clothes, and the tiny dismembered parts of another one between its legs.
He motioned for everyone to gather round and pointed to the remains. “You were right, Fiona. Human sacrifice.”
Fiona trembled. Dana came to the girl’s side and held her close.
Rhian and the others looked at the remains and made signs with their hands to ward off the evil spirits.
“What now?” Clud asked.
“I’ll cover them up,” Caratacus answered. “We don’t know who they were or where they came from. They are with the gods and no longer suffering.”
“What about the amulet?” Tog questioned.
“We’ll search a little longer. It must be close to the bodies,” Caratacus answered.
After a few minutes of digging, Caratacus’s knife struck something through the leaves covering the earth, emitting a cracking metallic sound. Everyone stopped, their heads turning towards the sound. Even through the chalky earth, its golden luster, so long locked beneath the ground, shone through. His heart pounded as he pulled it free. Cautiously, he scraped away its sides.
Using his dagger on the encrusted top, Caratacus popped open the frozen latch. “Here’s the finger bone,” he said aloud. Then a gasp shot from his lungs. “By the Great Teutates, it’s Adminios’s amulet, I’d know it anywhere.” He held up the silver ornament, the three horse heads glistening in the fading sunlight, shining through a gap in the trees. He stood.
Caratacus turned to Fiona and his wives. “You were right all along—Adminios is involved. This fits with his helping the Romans, especially if they promised he would be the next king.” He paused. “My brother will pay dearly for his treason. He must!” He turned to Fiona. “I will see that you are rewarded, Fiona, you deserve as much.”
Fiona bowed her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
Dana, Rhian, and Caratacus’s warriors murmured their approval.
Rhian stepped toward Fiona. “Would you like to become one of my warriors?”
Fiona’s eyes widened and a smile crossed her full lips. “Oh yes, my lady, you have a reputation as a great leader. It would be an honor to my family and me.”
Rhian blushed. She turned to Caratacus. “With your permission, Husband, I will enroll her into my ranks of warrior women and see to her training.”
“Granted,” Caratacus said. “That will be your reward, Fiona.”
Caratacus glanced from one person to another and raised his fist. “H
ear me now! I will do everything in my power to drive Adminios from our lands.”
Chapter 31
Riding through a near-blinding snowfall, Caratacus and his entourage returned from Usk to Camulodunum late the same night. Fortunately, the shivering group arrived at the fortress before high drifts clogged the trackway.
Dana, in her fourth month of pregnancy shared his bed that night, slept undisturbed, her breathing steady. He had kept his promise of dividing his time equally between his wives. The prince tossed and turned as he thought about his next move against Adminios. Sliding from underneath the warm blankets, he grabbed an extra fur at the foot of the bed-pallet. He got up shivering and wrapped the covering around his naked body. He stepped along the cold, dirt floor to the hearth. The fire had been banked for the night, but was now little more than glowing embers in the shadowy darkness. Kneeling, Caratacus picked up a few slivers of wood and placed them next to the coals. He blew on them until they ignited and little flames shot upward. Small logs immediately caught fire. The wood crackled and popped as flames licked against the bark like a tongue savoring a sweet honey cake. Soon the heat warmed his face. At thirty-one, Caratacus realized his appearance was of a man who spent most of his time outdoors exposed to the ravaging elements—he had seen his image with its ruddiness and wrinkles enough times in clear ponds and his wives’ expensive, copper mirrors. So what? It’s part of being a man—a hunter, leader, and warrior.
Caratacus’s mind turned to the revelations by Fiona of Adminios’s involvement in human sacrifice and reports of his plotting with Verica to invade Cunobelinos’s lands. These charges when brought before the king’s council should be enough to bring his traitorous brother down. His hand gripped the edge of the blanket with white knuckles. I need the backing of the tribal council if I’m to accuse Adminios of treason. Most of them hate him, and will side with me. During the past several months since he had returned from Eburacum, a number of the king’s councilors, all clan chieftains, had secretly told Caratacus they wanted him as their next king. Now, Caratacus had to journey to their respective holdings to confirm their fealty and request their support. Will they side with me against Adminios or were their words nothing more than empty gestures?
The Wolf of Britannia Part I Page 28
