The Lion and the Lark

by Doreen Owens Malek

  “So they’re whores who will deal with anybody,” Borrus replied, lifting his shoulders. “They’re making money on both sides and hope the conflict will continue indefinitely so they’ll become rich in the process.”

  “I want to talk to Bubista anyway,” Brettix said stubbornly, naming the king of the Trinovantes.

  Borrus looked at Parex, who had said nothing. Then the king shook his head, climbing the ladder that led to the loft of his house and disappearing from sight.

  “Maybe he’s right,” Parex finally said. “Maybe we should try to get the southern tribes together and forget the Trinovantes.”

  “I know something he doesn’t,” Brettix said quietly.

  “What?”

  “It was the Trinovantes who attacked the Romans clearing the snow in the southern pass and killed them all.”

  Parex stared at him, amazed.

  Brettix nodded.

  “So they’re with us?”

  Brettix shrugged. “It was a gesture to get our attention, and it did. I’m going to meet with Bubista and see what he wants in exchange for joining us in the raid on the fort.”

  “He’ll never bring his people over to our side.”

  “If he thinks the Romans will be driven out, he will. He doesn’t want to be on the losing end, that’s why he directed his men to wipe out that detail. He’s playing both sides, trying to judge who will come out on top. What will happen to his tribe if the Romans pack up and go home? His people will be left to get along with us again, and we have long memories.”

  “Do you really think there’s a chance they’ll abandon the garrison?” Parex said doubtfully.

  “It’s what I want Bubista to think,” Brettix said. “And yes, there’s a chance. They’re thinning the troops at Londinium to half, they may have plans for Camulodunum too.” He smiled grimly. “Perhaps Britain has not been as rewarding for them as they thought it would be.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your father about the Trinovantes killing the Roman detail?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered, he hates Bubista.”

  “He does?”

  Brettix smiled. “Bubista was a suitor for my mother’s hand twenty-five years ago, and my father has not forgotten.”

  Parex chuckled. “So I guess we go to the conference without him.”

  “I’m sending messages out to everybody to attend a meeting at the Drunemeton three days from now. We have to see who’ll stand with us and then set the date for the attack.”

  Parex took a sip from the cup before him and said, “What about the girl?”

  “Lucia? I have to get her out of the fort before we strike.”

  “She’ll come with you?”

  “She said she would,” Brettix replied.

  “Do you plan on bringing her back here?”

  “Where else?”

  Parex said nothing.

  “What is it? Do you think she won’t be safe?”

  “Maybe not, Brettix,” Parex said reluctantly.

  “Do you think I can’t protect her?”

  “Every moment of every day? She’ll be hated, reviled. How do you feel about the Romans, except for her? And everyone else around here won’t be bedding her, Brettix, so they won’t have your special reasons for thinking well of her.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Brettix said tersely.

  “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve done nothing but complain about your sister and her Roman paramour, and now you’re playing the same game. And you’re even worse, you think you can bring the daughter of an imperial general to this village and set up house with her. You’re dreaming, Brettix.”

  “People will feel differently when we’ve won significant concessions from the Romans. If we are successful with this raid I think we’ll have them on the run. And anyway, I can’t leave Lucia to the tender mercies of her father. He’ll send her back to Rome and marry her off to some coot she hardly knows.”

  “Is that why you want to save her?”

  “It’s not just that.”

  Parex looked at him.

  “I want her,” Brettix said flatly.

  Parex sighed. He had seen Brettix before when his friend had made up his mind.

  There was no talking to him.

  “Is she some fabulous beauty?” Parex asked curiously.

  Brettix smiled slightly. “No. Not like Bronwen, an eye catcher. She’s small and dark and sort of...boyish.”

  Parex raised his brows. “Are you looking for a catamite?”

  Brettix threw his empty cup at him.

  “Well, what’s so special about her?” Parex said, laughing.

  “She takes on her father, for one thing, and that’s no mean feat. And she is the toughest, most determined...listen to this. When her father wanted to send her to Londinium to get her away from me she drank salt water and wood ash to make herself sick, so she’d be too ill to travel.”

  Parex inclined his head, impressed.

  “And when she wanted to learn horse jumping she kept at it until she was black and blue and ready to drop. Even I told her to quit, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I tell you, Parex, I’ve seen men running into battle with less courage.”

  Parex nodded. “You’re in love, all right.” He paused. “And so is your sister. What are you going to do about her?”

  “I’m going to tell her the date of the raid once we decide upon it and then leave it to her to get out.”

  “That’s all?”

  “It’s wasted effort, anyway. She won’t leave her tribune, Parex. I know it.”

  “Are you sure she won’t tell him when we’re coming?”

  “No, she’s loyal to us but she’ll want to stay with him.”

  “You don’t think she’ll do anything to alert the Romans about the raid?” Parex said.

  Brettix shook his head. “She loves Leonatus, not the Roman empire. She won’t care what happens to the rest of them as long as she can save him.”

  “What if she can’t save him?”

  “Then she can’t. She knew what the situation was when she agreed to marry him,” Brettix said flatly.

  “She didn’t know she would fall in love with him,” Parex pointed out reasonably.

  “She knew even then that she had feelings for that man.”

  “What do you mean?” Parex demanded, surprised.

  “I was with her when she first saw him. He made an impression, I can tell you that.”

  “What are you talking about, Brettix? She met him on their wedding day!”

  “She SAW him when the Roman reinforcements first arrived. She and I were watching from a bluff when the column paused to take a break just below us. She got a good view of him on that day and I remember her reaction.”

  “Are you telling me that she knew her husband-to-be was this tribune? She fancied him and went through with the wedding for that reason?” Parex asked incredulously.

  “No.” Brettix shook his head. “Before the ceremony the name Leonatus meant nothing to her, she thought she would be marrying an older officer like Scipio. But once she saw who the groom was she wanted to go through with it. I saw her face and I know my sister. She recognized him.”

  “Then she’s in a very hard place, isn’t she?” Parex said softly, sympathy in his tone.

  “We all are,” Brettix replied briskly. “Now let’s get going on that meeting. We’ll see Bubista first. If he agrees to come the others will fall into line more easily.”

  Parex sat back in his chair and listened to Brettix talk, wondering how his friend would survive the multiple conflicts swirling around him.

  Claudius awoke in the middle of the night to a cold room. He gently dislodged Bronwen, who was sleeping with her head on his shoulder, and rose from the bed, drawing the sheepskin over her again carefully. She stirred slightly and sighed, then slipped back into slumber.

  Claudius pulled a fur lined tunic over his head and walked across the frigid floor to the fireplace. The fire was dead; there was a thi
n film of ice forming on the jug of water standing on the hearth.

  He quickly built a new fire, feeding twigs to the feeble flame until it sprang up and then tending it until it was going well enough to add logs. When it was blazing he held his hands out and warmed them, shivering and wishing for the hot breath of the Mediterranean sun.

  Would he ever return to Rome and feel it again?

  When he turned back to the bed Bronwen was sitting up, the coverlet clutched to her breasts, watching him.

  “The fire went out,” he said, sliding under the sheepskin and embracing her.

  “That’s not what woke me. I missed you,” Bronwen said, pressing her face into his shoulder.

  “I think the temperature had something to do with it, too,” he replied, smiling. “I usually wake up when it gets chilly and build the fire again, but this time I must have been sleeping very deeply.” He stroked her hair. “You have that effect on me.”

  Bronwen lifted her head. “You mean that I’m boring?”

  He grinned. “I mean you satisfy me so thoroughly that I fall into an exhausted, dreamless, but refreshing slumber.”

  Bronwen laughed. “Claudius, you should be making speeches in the Senate.”

  “Maybe someday I will.”

  Bronwen’s expression changed. “With a barbarian wife?” she said sadly.

  “My wife is an Iceni princess, the daughter of a king,” Claudius replied

  firmly.

  “That sounds very nice, but you know most Romans have the same opinion of Britons as the Scipiana.”

  “I don’t care what anyone thinks, Bronwen. I have enough money, and my family has enough influence, that I can afford to thumb my nose at all of them.”

  “So you won’t care if our marriage makes a political career impossible for you?”

  He sat up and looked at her. “Have you been brooding on all of this?” he asked her.

  “Well, you keep talking about going back to Rome, and I don’t know when or if it’s going to happen, or what my life will be like when I get there. I’ve known only this island and my own people, and before I met you my opinion of your countrymen could not have been lower.”

  “Does that mean you won’t go with me?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching her face.

  “Of course not!” Bronwen said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’d go anywhere with you, I have no life without you now. But you must understand that I’m worried about it. You’re going to be returning to Rome with a red haired wife from the wilds of Britannia. You might as well go back with an African elephant.”

  “You’re a lot prettier.”

  “I’m not joking, Claudius. I won’t fit in and I know it.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that. The empire is expanding and changing, we have naturalized citizens from all over the world, freed slaves as well as colonials. Caesar admitted Gauls to the Senate and Rome is home to all races and types of people now.”

  “You told me yourself that you were expected to marry an aristocrat from an old family like yours.”

  “I did. She died.”

  “And so now the rules have changed? Because your first wife died all the people like Drucilla Scipio will welcome me?”

  Claudius put his head back against the wall behind the bead and closed his eyes. “I can’t say there will never be problems. But they can’t be any worse than what we have already overcome to be together.”

  “And you’ll never be ashamed of me?” Bronwen asked, voicing her true concern.

  His eyes opened. “Is that what you’re really worried about?”

  Bronwen nodded.

  He took both of her hands in his. “If anyone says a word against you it will be because they’re jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “The women, of your beauty, and the men of me, because they will know that every night I have you in my bed.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then let’s go now.”

  He stared at her. “Now?”

  “Yes, why not? Scipio gave you leave to go to Londinium, why can’t we go? We’ll wait there until the weather breaks and take the first ship bound for Rome.”

  “Bronwen, I’ve already told you. The route south is blocked by snow and my replacement was killed on the way here. I can’t go anywhere for a while, maybe for a couple of months, and neither can anyone else. Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember,” she whispered. “I just wish...” She stopped.

  “You wish what?”

  “I wish that we could get away, go someplace where nobody knows either one of us and start all over again,” she said fervently.

  He watched her face, then said thoughtfully, “Maybe we can.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Once I’m mustered out of the army we can go anywhere we please. I have enough money to get established anywhere in the empire: Messalia in Gaul, Carthage in North Africa, Galatia, Pella in Macedonia, the colonies on the Rhine, Judea, you name it. Anywhere they speak Latin and accept the Roman government and coinage could be home.”

  “But what about your house, your estate?”

  “The servants are running it right now, I don’t have to be there. I haven’t been there for any extended period in some time.”

  “You would do that for me?” she asked softly, reaching up to touch his face.

  “I would do anything for you,” he replied simply, pulling her back into his arms. He kissed her mouth, then her neck, then her breasts, as Bronwen held his head against her. She closed her eyes as tears stung her lids.

  He WOULD do anything for her, he already had. And how was she repaying that devotion? By setting him up as a target for her brother and his friends.

  She would never get Claudius away from the fort before the raid. Even if she could somehow persuade him to leave Camulodunum, there was really nowhere to go.

  It was hopeless.

  A month passed, during which Brettix planned furiously for the attack on the garrison, assembling as many cohorts as he could and arguing with his father daily about allies and tactics. Lucia lay awake each night, waiting for his return, less certain with each subsequent sunrise that she would ever see him again.

  And Bronwen rode a cresting sea of swells and valleys, happy when she was in Claudius’ arms, miserable when he was away and she had time to dwell on the danger to him looming on the horizon. Listening to him make plans for their future was agonizing, since she didn’t know if there would be a future for them to share.

  One afternoon as Bronwen was trying to read Catullus, the scroll spread out on her lap as she stared into space, Maeve tapped on her door and then entered the bedroom. She stood silently before Bronwen, waiting to be acknowledged.

  “What is it?” Bronwen said distractedly, putting the roll of paper aside.

  “I got the items from the market that you requested. The straw matting for the mattresses is not first quality, but I managed to get some fine linen to line the master’s new cloak. The flax crop was not good this year so it was expensive.”

  Bronwen nodded, hardly listening. She didn’t care about the household supplies and was content to leave their management in the hands of the servants.

  “And I saw Cartia,” Maeve added.

  Bronwen sat forward, paying attention now. She looked toward the door, saw that it was half open, and got up to close it.

  “What does Brettix want?” she whispered to the old woman when she returned.

  “He wants you to tell the Scipiana that he is coming for her tonight, at the change of the first watch,” Maeve replied in a low tone.

  “The Scipiana?” Bronwen gasped, openmouthed with disbelief. “The general’s wife?”

  “No, silly. The girl. The one he’s been teaching to ride.”

  Bronwen was silent as realization dawned. No wonder her brother had been desperate enough to impersonate a centurion to get into the fort; his audacity had served more than
one purpose, it wasn’t just to get information from her. And he’d had the nerve to chide her about Claudius! She remembered how she had been jealous of the Scipio girl, thinking that Claudius had an interest in her, and felt foolish.

  All the time Lucia had been forming an attachment to her brother!

  And Brettix was the same as ever, as sly and secretive as he was courageous.

  She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him.

  “What else?” Bronwen asked shortly.

  “He said to tell her to get out through the wall her usual way and meet him at the abandoned well near the first entry guardpost.”

  Bronwen nodded.

  Maeve hesitated.

  “What? Is there something else?” Bronwen asked.

  “The raid is scheduled for the morning after next, at dawn,” Maeve said quietly.

  Bronwen felt a hollow pit open up in her stomach. It was going to happen; it wasn’t just an object of discussion any more.

  “Did you know about this?” Maeve asked her.

  “I knew that Brettix was planning it,” Bronwen replied. “Not when it would take place.”

  “What are you going to do about your husband?” Maeve asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bronwen whispered despairingly, putting her hands over her face. “I don’t know.”

  “He’ll be a target,” Maeve said. “He’s the second officer of the garrison, they’ll kill him.”

  “Be still!” Bronwen hissed. “I have to think.”

  “How could you let this happen?” Maeve demanded.

  “How could I let this happen? I was sent here by my father to MAKE it happen!”

  “But you must get Claudius away. Can’t you find some pretext to do that?”

  “I have thought and thought,” Bronwen murmured, “and it has afforded me nothing. He was supposed to go to Londinium where he would have been safe, but there was a change of plans.” She opened her hands. “I don’t know what to do. If I tell him about the coming attack I betray my people, but if I stand by and let it happen I put Claudius in grave danger.”

  “He’s a good man, Bronwen.”

  “Yes, he is, and he loves me. But he’s a Roman and I must not forget that,” Bronwen replied.