Brigantia

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  Ferox came last, and his gelding was not keen at all. Twice it refused, and he had to slap it hard on the rump several times. First it bucked, then it shot forward and bounded over the gap so suddenly that he almost lost his seat. The others watched with amusement.

  The afternoon wore on as they began to follow the stream and go down to where they could hope to find a better path. As the sun started to set, Vindex cantered ahead to look for somewhere to camp for the night.

  ‘I suppose you expect to share my food,’ Enica said as she watched him vanish into a dell.

  ‘We have some.’ In truth they had little left, for most of the provisions were on the pack animals with the main party – or scattered in the chasm and down the flowing stream in the case of the lost pony. ‘And are used to going without. I am sure you are too. The Mother teaches hard lessons to her sons and daughters.’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘When I met Claudia Enica in Londinium I would never have imagined you now, or fighting with those warriors. She – well, you – seemed so…’ He sought for the right word, sensing that all the time she was testing him and that so far he had not done well.

  ‘Soft,’ she said. ‘Weak and silly.’

  ‘No.’ In truth that was just what he had thought. ‘But precious, like a glass vase. Beautiful and perfect, and so fragile that it must ever be wrapped in silk and kept safe.’ He felt he was getting it right. ‘I fought alongside the sons and daughters not long ago. The sons were not far into their training. The daughters were good, although not as good as you. You reminded me of the Mother.’

  ‘You were with her when she died.’

  How did she know that? Ferox had been the only Roman in that desperate fight on the clifftop. Vindex had arrived later, and not really known who the Mother was. Ferox had never said much to anyone about the woman and her pupils. He was not quite sure why; it just felt as if their world should remain secret, a living memory of the old world of heroes, before the Romans came. ‘I was,’ he said at last. ‘We were losing. There were just too many of them and they kept coming. She knew the price of breaking her oath, but did it for her children, and it saved them.’ That was only half-true. Vindex, Longinus and the others had come to their aid and the main force of Romans was on its way. Some of them might have lasted until that help arrived. ‘She killed and died because of it.’

  ‘She was special, even among the long line of Mothers back to the beginning.’ Enica’s voice had a reverence Ferox had not heard before. ‘Brigita of Hibernia may be another.’ The solemn face broke into a smile. ‘You are surprised? The whispers of the Mother reach her children wherever they are. For our whole lives we are bound to her and each other.

  ‘Brigita was coming to the end of her time of training there when I arrived. An older one is given as a guide to the newcomer, and I was bound to her. She was…’

  ‘A tough bitch.’ There was enough sheer admiration in his tone for her to nod. A queen of a Hiberian tribe, Brigita had been abducted by a band of deserters from the army, the same ones who had taken Sulpicia Lepidina. Ferox led the rescue, and then watched as the queen fought alongside his men. When it was over, she turned her back on her tribe and homeland to become the new Mother.

  ‘She was hard on me, very hard, and so I learned well.’ She lifted up her right leg and spun so that she was sitting in the saddle as if it was a chair, facing him. The horse did not stir and her balance was perfect. ‘You don’t often swear, do you? I hear that is the way with Silures.’

  ‘Waste of good anger. But these days I seem to curse a lot more.’ He snorted with laughter. ‘I must be turning into more of a Roman.’

  ‘To live in two worlds at once.’

  Ferox nodded. ‘I guess in that we are alike. You are young, though, and I know you were educated in Gaul, so how did you find the time to go north?’

  ‘My mother – my real mother – decided, and father did as he was told. They sent me to Lugdunum when I was eight and then later Massilia to improve my Greek and gain understanding of the philosophers.’ She shook her head. ‘Very dull old men, most of whom have never lived and will never live, but love to talk.’

  ‘Unlike the Brigantes.’

  ‘We talk, it is true. You Silures should try it sometime. It is very freeing. So I learned, and they condescended to say that I was quite bright for a little girl. So I smiled as if I was proud, and made a joke about Epicurus, but made sure to get the details of the story slightly wrong so that they could feel secure in their wisdom. Soon I was nearly fourteen and it was clear I would not be a girl for much longer. The features your friend so admires appeared overnight. Well, began to show anyway. My tutor sent word home, and my parents whisked me away less I be debauched by fellow pupils or master. As if any of those fools had a chance! Pigs and apes the lot of them, and all so very stupid. They brought me home and then sent me to the Mother, to learn and to stay chaste. A son and daughter are not permitted to lie together,’ she explained. ‘Three years on and the Mother told me that I was ready to go back. I knew it too, although I feared being made to take a husband on my return.

  ‘Thankfully, my parents sent me to Rome instead, to “complete my education”.’ She snorted scornfully, and the grey horse shook its head in surprise. Without shifting from her awkward, sideways posture, she cooed to the animal and it calmed. She even crossed her legs and somehow remained balanced. ‘What a place. You have been there, I know. So many people, so many temptations and vices. Thus Claudia was born. Yet I had a guide and she steered me through. What is it Caesar said, like a helmsman avoiding a reef. Though if I recall he was speaking of oratory.’

  ‘So I understand.’

  ‘Do you, or are you just pretending? Half of life seems to be about pretending, doesn’t it? Not making others feel uncomfortable. In the old tales the heroes boast all the time and parade their prowess. I sometimes wonder whether wisdom is about hiding who you really are and what you are capable of doing.’

  ‘Yesterday you killed two men. At the amphitheatre you killed two more. From the ease with which you did it I doubt that they are the first. Now you ride like a centaur and speak of hiding your skills.’

  She stuck her tongue out at him like a child. ‘Half of life, I said. And here there is no one to see, apart from you. Even so, those are just a few of my talents. There are lots of others. I can stand on one hand with my feet straight up in the air, but I hardly ever do. Especially when I’m wearing a dress. And if Vindex were here he would no doubt have muttered “Pity” at that point. And I can juggle.’ She frowned. ‘Your seriousness can be a bore, do you know that? Try acting as if you are entranced by my wit. I well see that my beauty stirs you.’ She glanced down, and before he knew it he did the same. There was nothing to see, as he should have known. ‘Got you,’ she said, and stuck out her tongue again.

  ‘Who was your helmsman?’

  ‘Oh, back to business. Can’t you guess? I thought you were supposed to be good at rooting out the truth.’ He said nothing. ‘Then perhaps if I say that my family’s old friendships and the emperor’s favour recommended me to the house of the Sulpicii?’

  Ferox laughed and once he started he could not stop. Claudia Enica watched him with the expression of an indulgent parent. For a while they rode side by side, until she hooked her right leg back over the saddle, then pushed on the horns and jumped, placing her boots on the saddle. She stood upright, arms straight out on either side. The grey walked on, apparently oblivious.

  ‘Clever.’

  ‘Not really. Clever would be if the horse could stand on my back. Still, at least it has brought an end to your yokel-like merriment. As you have guessed, I met Sulpicia Lepidina four years ago and we got on from the start. I think she found it a pleasant change from conversation with the buffoons in her family. She was not married then, and her brother was busy getting exiled, while her father drank too much, made unwise investments and generally wasted the family’s wealth. Frankly she needed company. She took me i
n hand, refined my manners, we talked for days about clothes and then went shopping, came home and talked even more. Better yet she sneaked me into the local ludus. Of course they thought two noblewomen were only there for a bit of rough. You know what some are like. Personally, I could not see anything very appealing about muscle-bound and scarred heavies, but each to his own. One tried it on, so I slid his knife out of its sheath, gave him a cut on the arm and then had the point at his throat ready to press. After that they were all lambs, and they let me train and taught me the curved sword and more than a few tricks of the arena.’

  ‘Sulpicia Lepidina did not join you?’ For all his surprise, Ferox found the story all too easy to believe. The lady was never one to be bound by convention and clever enough to hide it. Still, the thought of her handling a sword was unlikely.

  ‘She just watched. I made her laugh, you see. She did not have much to cheer her in those days. She kept a couple of the bigger household slaves with us in case of trouble, but there wasn’t any need. She charmed them. You know how she can, and I amused them, and they could see that I was good. The lanista even wanted me to be in a show fight at the games!’ She slid down, smacking into the saddle and making the grey bound forward. ‘Good boy,’ she said, stroking its ears.

  Vindex appeared and raised an arm to show that he had found somewhere suitable. The ground was too uneven and broken by little gullies to risk a canter, so they walked towards him.

  ‘She loves you very much,’ Enica said softly. ‘And the boy is everything to her. You have given her glimpses of happiness. There can never be more, for that is not fated, but never doubt that her love was real.’

  ‘I do not know what you mean.’

  She leaned over and patted his arm. ‘Aren’t Silures supposed to be good at lying? I told you, we are close friends and friends talk. Unlike Claudia Severa I am not shocked. It gave Lepidina pleasure to live the moments again in the telling and I was the only one to trust. I’ve shocked you. Well, that is something.’

  He sighed ‘I have more questions.’

  ‘Is this the vanity of man?’

  ‘Not about that.’

  ‘Sshh. Later.’ Vindex was close now. ‘Another time.’

  The scout chattered away happily, joking with the lady, while always keeping his humour just this side of Brigantian courtesy. She responded, with the greater licence permitted to someone of her rank. They spoke about his father, and she surprised Ferox by also knowing the name, if no more, of his mother, a servant at his homestead who had caught the young chieftain’s eye.

  ‘I am more like him,’ Vindex admitted. ‘They say she was a beauty, although I do not really remember her face as I was little when the fever took her. The chief has been good to me.’ Vindex never used the word father when speaking of his lord.

  After that they spoke for hours about horses, and a little about chariots. Ferox admired both, and could watch them or try them out for as long as anyone. Talking about them always seemed a waste of breath and effort. He had never met a silent Brigantian. More than any other tribe they prattled away, whether or not they had anything worth saying, as fond of their own voices as any sophist. Sometimes they spoke over each other, and he was baffled because they still seemed to follow what everyone else was saying. Claudia, the fashionable Roman woman, had barely stopped for breath. During the rest of the day and the evening Enica the princess of the Brigantes did not appear to need to pause at all.

  Ferox left them, saying he would take the first watch. At least they had the sense to keep their voices low, although now and again Vindex brayed with laughter, making Ferox wince. It was a clear, still night, and the sound would carry a long way. He went a fair distance from the camp until he could barely hear them, and then kept moving, circling the walled sheep pen they had settled down in, stopping often and listening. There was no sign of anyone out there. They were still high up, where no one lived in winter, and although the cold and snows would most likely hold off for another month or so, already the high pastures were almost empty.

  Eventually Vindex came to relieve him. Back at the camp, Ferox found Claudia Enica soundly asleep. There had been no later for them to talk, and there were still so many questions. Often silence and stillness cleared his mind. He could never remember working out a problem, yet somehow afterwards answers came clearly. That had not happened tonight, and instead he still had mysteries and suspicions. Claudia Enica was a skilled warrior, and he guessed Ovidius was right and she was almost as skilled an actress. Vindex worshipped her, and not simply because he had been raised to be loyal to her family. She was beautiful and charming, and it was hard not to like her.

  Many years ago, Caratacus had told him that Silures were always wary of charm because they did not have any of their own. The old man had said it as a compliment, for he admired Ferox’s people and always said that if he had stayed with them instead of trying to rally the Ordovices, then he would still have been free and fighting into his old age. Caratacus had charm, but the Lord of the Hills trusted him because he had seen the man fight. His grandfather had told him that sometimes in life you met someone who truly was as amiable, capable and trustworthy as they seemed, and the danger was that you would miss the chance of making a true friend because you were too suspicious.

  Enica claimed to have saved his life twice and he believed that, albeit at the arena he had had to survive the first attack for her help to have mattered. He believed her too when she claimed close friendship of Sulpicia Lepidina, for there was no other way she could have known so much. Ferox’s life was pledged to the mother of his child, a woman who had reawakened feelings he had thought long dead with his first lost love. Sulpicia Lepidina was also the wife of another man, daughter of a senator, and intrigue and politics were in her blood. Someone had tried to arrange his death in the arena, that night when Enica’s dead servant had come to him, and he wished that he could be sure it was not Lepidina. If it was Enica, then she had changed her mind, and if it was all Domitius’ plan, then how had Enica known about it?

  She was a killer. He had seen that now. Caratacus was dead these long months past, and they said the killers were led by a woman, and presumably a woman familiar enough with the ways of Rome and Italia to pass without notice. Another woman, bold and quick thinking enough to bluff the soldier who stumbled upon her, had been there when Narcissus died, and had ridden off on horseback afterwards. Ferox tried hard to remember the voice of the woman paid off by Acco and Domitius while he was their prisoner. He did not think she had sounded like the young woman softly sighing in her sleep just a few feet away. Yet if Claudia the Roman and Enica the Brigantian were themselves performances, then perhaps there were other parts she could play just as convincingly. Cartimandua had betrayed Caratacus. Had her granddaughter murdered him?

  Ferox had never fought a woman. The closest he had come had been when he and Vindex faced the masked Enica and that had never become serious. He feared having to kill her or any woman. The Silures did not kill women, or children for that matter, for it was seen as unlucky. They took captives on the raids, and the women suffered and became slaves or sometimes wives. It was not the softest of lives, but over time many became as much part of the tribe as those of the blood. That was if they realised that being of the Silures was to be of the finest people in the world, the only true people.

  His instincts revolted at the thought that he might have to kill a woman, or hand her over to let someone else do the job since that was simply a cowardly way of doing the same thing. All boys born to his tribe were bound by bans against doing certain things. These were secret, known only to them and whoever had prophesied their fortune after their birth. He was bound never to harm a woman, child or creature from the deep sea. His soul, his very essence and certainly his power as a man would decay and crumble if he violated any of these taboos. The one about the sea creatures was easy enough, and the others fitted the beliefs of the Silures, although he suspected these were rare as he had never heard of any pas
t warrior of his tribe bound in the same way. He wondered whether Acco was the one who had given him such a strange fate. After so many years as a Roman, Ferox should probably have dismissed all this as mere superstition. Yet not long ago he had seen the Mother break her oath and die moments later. There was so much about the world the Romans – or even the Greeks with all their cleverness – could simply not understand.

  *

  He must have slept in the end, for Vindex’s snoring woke him with a start. The sky was clear, the stars beginning to fade, and dawn not far off. Enica was gone, so he rose and went to find her. It was good to move to shake off the chill and stiffness of the night. He found her easily, standing straight, her heavy cloak pulled tightly around her. For a moment he thought of one of those statuettes of Ephesian Artemis that he had seen many Romans from the east carry with them. She was staring out across the valley at the high peaks in the far distance. Some still had snow on them from the last winter.

  Enica smiled. ‘You came at my summons. Good.’

  ‘I just woke up, my lady. Vindex’s snores would wake a stone.’

  ‘Just chance, you think.’ She had coiled her pigtail and piled it on top of her head, making her almost as tall as him. It was a style he remembered Brigita using. ‘Have you become so much the Roman?’