Scipio watched Borrus’ son come closer, a commanding presence with his height and gold adornments, his blond hair gleaming in the winter sun. The general felt a surge of resentment as he saw Lucia, composed and dressed in Celtic clothing, riding beside him. Scipio’s lips compressed. Was he, the military commander of Roman Britain, now supposed to negotiate with this barbarian who had stolen his only child’s heart, this Iceni prince who was hardly older than his daughter, this BOY?
All eyes were on the pair as they cantered to a stop. The crowd was so hushed Scipio could hear the click of melting ice falling from the branches above him to the banks of crusted snow, the slight rush of wind through the bare trees.
“You’re bold, to come alone,” Scipio said to Brettix in Latin, looking up at the mounted youth.
Lucia translated, then added to her father, “He’s not alone.”
Scipio glared at her but did not reply.
“Tell him I have come to make a bargain for peace,” Brettix said.
Lucia obeyed, and Scipio said, “I had expected to see your father.”
Claudius glanced at Bronwen, who looked back at him hopefully. They both understood that Scipio’s reply indicated a willingness to deal with the Celts; otherwise he would have spurned the mention of a “bargain.”
“My father would have come but his wound detains him.”
“What is your offer?” Scipio asked shortly.
“We will forbear any further attacks on the fort...” Brettix began.
“The Iceni?”
“The Iceni and allies. I speak for all of them.”
“In exchange for what?”
“My sister’s life, for one,” Brettix said, nodding toward Bronwen. “She is to be freed and restored to her husband.”
“She was a hostage to the treaty, and the treaty was broken,” Scipio said flatly.
“Such a judgment is within your discretion,” Brettix countered readily.
Bronwen’s eyes were fixed on Claudius’ face, watching his reaction to the conversation. Her heartbeat was so loud in her own ears that she had to strain to hear Lucia’s soft voice as she translated for the two speakers, switching from the harsh gutturals of Celtic to the smooth cadence of Latin with hardly a pause.
“What else?” Scipio said.
“Self rule for the tribes.”
“What else?”
“The grain duties paid to your provincial government cut by half.”
Scipio sighed and shook his head, as if indulging a fractious toddler. “I assume there is more?” he said dryly.
“Withdrawal of your troops from Camulodonum to Londinium within the year.”
Scipio snorted and gestured for the capite to ready his archers. Bronwen gasped and Claudius moved toward her, his hand on his sword hilt again.
“Father, please!” Lucia said, speaking for herself, and the general looked at her.
“Brettix has good reason to wish to live in peace with us. If you give him what he wants he’ll convince his allies to go along with him.”
“He wants too much!”
“Are his conditions so impossible? If you grant them he’ll keep his word.”
“The recent past has shown me the worth of Iceni promises,” Scipio said disgustedly.
“Father, you need a rest. We all need a rest. Look at your men, look at this fort. I have seen myself that the Iceni are just as tired, just as dispirited. Can I tell Brettix that you will at least think about it?”
Scipio was silent.
“Let Bronwen go and arrange a time for further negotiations,” Claudius said in an undertone to Scipio. “That’s enough of a concession to appease Brettix for now.”
“I want my little girl back,” Scipio said stubbornly, like a child who demands a treat before going to bed.
“She’s not your little girl any more,” Claudius said quietly. “She’s a woman, and she belongs to Brettix now.”
Scipio looked around at his men, who were all watching him. It was plain on their faces that they were hoping he would concede; they were bone weary and heartsore, fed up with the endless cold and snow and missing their families, their dead comrades and their home.
The general bowed his head slowly. “Let the girl go,” he said to the guards.
They untied Bronwen as the capite barked an order and dismissed the archers.
Claudius closed his eyes, expelling a long held breath. He turned toward Bronwen, who ran to him and collapsed into his arms.
“Tell him that his sister is free,” Scipio said to Lucia, jerking his head toward Brettix.
Lucia murmured to her companion.
“And tell him I will meet with him next nundina at the Drunemeton at noon. He is to bring the leaders of the other tribes, and I will be accompanied by Leonatus and my quaestor. We will work out the details of the truce then.” He sighed. “Let’s hope it’s the last one.”
“Thank you, Father,” Lucia said, on the verge of tears.
“Now get him out of here before I kill him,” Scipio said curtly, turning his back on Brettix.
“May I come and see you?” Lucia called to him.
“You know where I am,” her father replied, and walked away.
Lucia leaned forward on Stella and spoke once more to Brettix, who nodded and reined in, turning his horse around to head for the garrison gates. The crowd, watching him depart with the general’s daughter, stirred and murmured with relief.
“Let’s go home,” Claudius said to Bronwen.
She tried to take a step and faltered, clinging to Claudius.
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to their house.
epilogue
“You are so lovely,” Bronwen said to Lucia, who was dressed as an Iceni bride, a crown of mistletoe adorning her dark head, a golden torque at her throat.
“I hope Brettix will think so,” Lucia said.
“How could he not?”
“I don’t look much like an Iceni,” Lucia replied wistfully, gazing into Bronwen’s silvered glass.
“That’s one of the reasons he loves you. Brettix always liked to be different.”
Lucia laughed, then removed the circlet from her head. “I can’t believe I’m getting married tonight,” she said. “Thank you for agreeing to come to the ceremony.”
“Of course I’ll be there. Claudius and I wouldn’t miss it.”
“My parents won’t come,” Lucia said sadly. “And I don’t think your father will come either.”
“Don’t worry about that. These things take time. The treaty was just settled, you can’t expect old enmities to vanish overnight.”
“My mother has taken to her bed,” Lucia said sadly. “She thinks she can never go back to Rome and face her friends. When I visited her last week she said it would be easier to tell everyone that I was dead.”
“Then let her tell them that you are dead,” Bronwen observed, shrugging
her shoulders.
Lucia giggled.
“Do you care? You’ll never see any of those people again.”
Lucia sobered. “It’s odd, but I really don’t care. Rome was my home for so long, I never knew anything else. And now my past there is like a dream and this is my reality. I wouldn’t mind if I never go back to Italy. Does that shock you?”
“Not at all. You are in love.”
Lucia smiled. “Yes, I am. And to think we lived so close to one another all this time and I never knew that we would be family. I never knew Brettix was your brother.”
“He did a very dangerous thing, going to work for your father.”
“That’s Brettix. He has no fear. But I have quite a bit, and I worry about him.”
“Don’t worry any more. He has what he wants now, so he’ll be less reckless.” Bronwen ran her hands over the slight bulge of her belly. “We all have what we want.”
“When is the baby due?” Lucia asked.
“At the end of the summer.”
“I envy you,” Lucia said.
Bronwen laughed. “There was a time when I envied you.”
“Me! You hardly knew me!”
“I knew that Claudius visited your house and seemed very friendly toward you.” She lifted her shoulders. “I was jealous.”
“Oh, Bronwen,” Lucia said, shaking her head, “Claudius was never interested in me.”
“I know that now, but at the time I was very...” she stopped.
“What?”
“Unhappy. Our marriage had been arranged and I wasn’t sure how he felt about me. I was falling in love with him and fighting it, and every time I turned around he was having cena with your family. I used to watch through the window as he came walking home, and often you were with him. It tortured me.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucia said sympathetically. “That must have been so difficult for you.”
“You were everything I wasn’t: rich and well brought up and, above all, Roman.”
“But he loved you.”
“Yes.” Bronwen hesitated, then said, “Lucia, do you remember Claudius’ first wife? Vespasia?”
“Not very well. I was too young.”
“Do you recall anything about her?”
“Only that she was very...calm. Composed.”
“Sweet?”
“Yes.”
Bronwen nodded uncomfortably.
“Don’t think about it,” Lucia advised. “I’m sure I’m not the first woman in Brettix’ life, but I plan to be the last. The future starts now.”
Bronwen smiled at the younger girl, impressed by her maturity.
It was advice well taken.
“Is it getting dark?” Bronwen said suddenly, glancing at her bedroom window. “Claudius should be home soon.”
“Did I hear my name?” her husband said, sticking his head in through the open door.
Bronwen ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“Well. I’ll take that greeting every night,” he said, kissing her. “How are you?”
“Wonderful.”
“And the little one inside you?”
“Wonderful too.”
Claudius kept his arm around his wife as he looked over her shoulder and said to Lucia, “I have brought someone to see you.”
“My father?” the girl asked hopefully.
Claudius nodded. “He’s in the triclinium.”
“Is my mother with him?”
“No. I’m sorry. I think she needs a little more time.” Claudius winked at her. “If you go and see him now I’m sure he’ll agree to come to your wedding.”
Lucia squealed with delight and ran from the room, pausing only to kiss Claudius’ cheek as she passed him.
“I assume that you have been talking to the general,” Bronwen said slyly.
“He wants to go to her wedding. He loves her.”
“She’ll miss her mother. Drucilla is doing her best to convince that girl that this wedding will kill her.”
“She’s been dying for years, ever since I’ve known her,” Claudius said dryly.
Bronwen laughed and took his hand, placing it on her belly.
“Maybe by the time this child is born all the fighting will be over and our people can live together in peace,” she said.
“Maybe,” Claudius said, drawing her close to him.
He didn’t agree, but he would never spoil Bronwen’s happiness by saying so out loud.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Romans first invaded Britain in 55 and 54 B.C. under Julius Caesar. For the next century they struggled to maintain a foothold on the island, establishing forts and fighting the native tribes, never quite conquering it but never relinquishing it either. In 43 A.D. the Emperor Claudius sent a new invasion force, and for the next forty years the colonial governors worked to gradually bring the Britons under their control. The Romanization of Britain continued apace until the fifth century, leaving behind the many ruins of baths and temples and oppida still visible in the United Kingdom today. By the time the Emperor Honorius, under pressure from advancing Germanic tribes ,finally withdrew the legions from the island permanently in 410 A.D., the Romans had occupied Britain for more than four hundred and fifty years.
“ I did not undertake this war for private ends, but in the cause of national liberty. Since I must now accept my fate, I place myself at your disposal. Make amends to the Romans by killing me, or surrender me alive as you think best.”
- Vercingetorix to the survivors of the siege at Alesia, as quoted by Julius Caesar, Commentaries on the Gallic Wars
The Lion and the Lark Page 25
