The Poisoned Throne: Tintagel Book II

by M. K. Hume

  Despite following every detail of Constantinus’s routines, as well as adding several of his own, he was unable to relax. He had debated with himself whether campfires should be allowed, but eventually came to the conclusion that his enemy already knew where the Romans had set up their camp, whether they had fires or not. In any event, he was reluctant to rob the men of the warmth of cooked food, while the loss of the companionship of firelight would be counterproductive, suggesting as it did that his men were afraid of an invisible enemy. As he ate a rabbit stew prepared by Severa’s decoy maid, Paulus accepted that small luxuries such as this could give a warrior the heart to fight with more than his fair share of ferocity.

  Meanwhile the small party of three riders continued to pick their way through challenging, hilly terrain almost completely devoid of farms and villages. The darkness was so thick under the forest trees that Constantinus ordered Drusus to make a torch out of dry wood, mosses, tree bark and a strip of torn cloth. Soon the riders were able to cover more ground with far less risk to life and limb.

  ‘Could the enemy scouts see the torchlight and know where we are?’ Severa asked nervously, her eyes darting from side to side as if her vision could penetrate the oppressive darkness.

  ‘It’s a risk we must take,’ Constantinus explained patiently. ‘Our plans will crumble away to nothing if one of our horses should break a leg, or if one of us were to fall and be injured. There’ve been few signs of habitation since we’ve been on the road, so I’m confident that we won’t be seen.’

  Severa understood the dangers of broken limbs, especially in remote areas of the countryside. Wisely, she decided to remain silent. The changeable nature of this centurion made it impossible for her to fully understand him. At one moment, he would be the personification of solicitude; then, for no reason that she could fathom, he would look at her as if he was harbouring thoughts of ravishing her, with or without her consent.

  Do I love him? More to the point, do I want him? I have to marry someone, and the man I accept as my spouse will almost certainly become the next king of the Britons. Would Constantinus, who is as stiff-necked a Roman as I’ve ever met, give up his command in the legions for me? And would he consider a kingship to be a fair exchange for his freedom?

  As Severa pondered his motives, the Roman was mulling over the same vexing problem.

  Marrying her, considering the circumstances of their unchaperoned journey and their escape from Corinium, might not pose a particular problem. The king of the Dumnonii would probably demand some kind of union for the sake of Severa’s reputation, even if she was opposed to marrying a Roman. But did he want her? She had many advantages that could be useful to an officer of lowly origins. Could he use this beautiful woman to advance his career in the service of Rome?

  Perhaps it wasn’t love that he felt for her, Constantinus thought grimly, with a flash of harsh self-knowledge. But was he prepared to leave the legions to pursue her and achieve the British crown?

  The decision that finally sprang into his mind was so appalling that he jerked sharply on the reins of his horse, causing it to rear sharply in indignation. Unbidden, the face of the old hermit returned to haunt his thoughts like a cursed warning from Fortuna.

  ‘I don’t believe in magic,’ he snarled, then realised he had spoken aloud when Severa turned in her saddle.

  He grinned ruefully and apologised to his companion. ‘I was thinking aloud, Lady Severa. I recalled that I had been warned long ago that I was to avoid taking unnecessary risks when I find myself in dangerous situations. However, the warnings have convinced me that I shouldn’t allow myself to be frightened away from my desires . . . or my duty. I will always be, at heart, a true and loyal Roman.’

  Surprised at his cryptic words, Severa blushed.

  Does she know what I’m thinking? Constantinus wondered. No! It’s impossible!

  ‘I wish I could be as resolute as you, Centurion. I’m afraid that I’ve always done what was expected of me. If I’m to die on the morrow, I’ll have robbed myself of my most ardent desires in order to satisfy the expectations of others. My life will have been half-lived and, therefore, scarcely lived at all.’

  Before Constantinus could answer her, she turned in the saddle and kneed her horse gently to send it after Drusus’s half-lit figure. Nor did the centurion speak to her again until long after the moon had begun to descend through the sky and he had called for the overnight halt to their journey.

  Afternoon came and a further day in the saddle found Severa gritty-eyed and fretful. Drusus fetched the horses, while sulking under his facade of impassivity because his commanding officer had unaccountably taken his waking mood out on his underling. Unable to react, Drusus could only assuage his temper by yanking on the reins of the horses after they had been saddled and prepared for another day’s work.

  The three riders kept close to the tree line until Drusus stopped suddenly. There, ahead of them, they could see a flash of water through a gap in the thick trees and underbrush.

  ‘The river!’ Constantinus exclaimed, and his mood lightened as he realised that something was finally working out in accordance with his plans. ‘We must be close to Lindinus.’

  The small party had ridden for barely half an hour before Drusus drew their attention to a haze of smoke and industry in the distance.

  ‘That’s Lindinus, for certain,’ Constantinus averred. ‘All we need to do now is to find a convenient place to ford the river and we can continue our journey into the south. I believe we’ve outwitted your kinsman, my lady. God be praised!’

  ‘Then I hope our good fortune continues,’ Severa retorted emphatically. Embarrassed, the centurion’s face coloured along his high cheekbones.

  During their journey through the darkness of the night, the three riders had been oblivious to much of the landscape through which they were travelling. However, they could tell that the rough terrain had given way to lowlands that indicated a river valley. Also, the increasing evidence of domesticated animals in pastures and the grey cottages of some farmers attested to a land that had been tamed. Constantinus’s mood improved with every new vista that spoke of provident and law-abiding populations.

  They rode through the trees along the river bank, where Drusus began a search for a ford or a bridge that could carry them across to the far bank in safety. The steep, eroded banks spoke of the pressure of floods that arrived with the advent of the summer rains. The party rode on until the trees began to thin and water meads took their place, alive with long-legged birds, butterflies and bees.

  In one likely spot, where the waters widened and an island butted out of the river like a neat, shaven skull, Drusus found a section of the bank that shelved gently to the water with the presence of some coarse-grained sand that would combat the river mud. He carefully rode his horse into the shallows, before forcing it into the deeper waters where the steed was required to swim briefly before emerging on the shingle on the far side of the stream.

  Once the scout had successfully crossed, Constantinus led Severa into the river and remained alongside her in case she was washed out of the saddle. On the other side the going proved to be far easier, although the small party was turning back towards a line of low hills that raised their rounded heads towards a pale-blue sky.

  Severa was numb with weariness by the time the centurion called a halt to their busy day, and she finally had an opportunity to dismount. Every muscle in her legs and lower torso was screaming in protest, so she wondered why she hadn’t felt such pain and exhaustion during her first two days on the road.

  ‘You’re stiff from being on horseback for so long, Lady Severa. You need to soak in the river to lave away your aches and pains,’ Constantinus advised her. He had spoken in a distant voice that indicated he didn’t really care if she accepted this advice or not.

  ‘It sometimes takes a day or two before I feel the full
effects of a long journey on horseback, so I find that bathing in cool water often helps. I’ll accompany you down to the river bank if you’re nervous about walking to the river alone. I’ll respect your privacy while you’re bathing.’

  Severa nodded, although her chief desire was to curl up on her saddle blanket and weep from exhaustion. Taking her silence for agreement, Constantinus picked up the pack containing her spare clothing and offered her his arm.

  As he led her through a thicket of thorn trees lining the river, he pulled the branches aside to ease her descent to the water’s edge but, unfortunately, she tripped over her own tired feet. Constantinus had to hold her upright with both hands to stop her from tumbling down the weed-choked bank. With a muttered apology, he felt his confusion return in a rush, for he had convinced himself during the previous night that he would take some precipitate action that would win Severa’s hand.

  ‘Thank you, good sir.’ She gripped his forearm tightly to maintain her balance. ‘I’m really very tired today, or else I wouldn’t presume on your time.’

  As the silence deepened between them, Constantinus slid down the bank ahead of her and lifted her free from the last branches of the thicket of thorns. Depositing her on her feet beside a small pile of rocks on the very edge of the water, he backed away, dropping her pack on to a narrow strip of clean sward, before moving towards a small bend on the river bank.

  ‘I’ll wait for your call just over there. Just shout if you need me and I’ll come immediately.’

  Then the centurion moved out of sight. After a few moments, feeling awkward and at a loose end, Severa lowered herself gingerly on to the highest point of the largest sun-dried rock.

  She began to remove her boots, throwing them behind her, then the long, knitted socks. Once her legs were bared, she could see the nasty chafing that had raised weeping blisters and swollen patches of flesh on her thighs and calves, injuries that looked almost as painful as they felt. Then she rose shakily to her feet.

  Once she had lowered herself into the cold water, it gave immediate relief. Yet she was fearful of venturing too far because she had never learned to swim.

  Even so this experience was thoroughly pleasurable.

  Unwilling to put herself at further risk, the young woman waded deeper into the chill waters until she was immersed up to her waist. Slowly, she became conscious of the small details of life around her. She could even feel the attention of tiny minnows as they nibbled at her toes and hear the drone of bees searching for sustenance among the thistle flowers and the whirr of dragonfly wings buzzing along the banks.

  Constantinus drew back from his position on the bank where he was just out of Severa’s view. Dishonourably, and against his better nature, he had watched her naked white thighs glimmer in the fading light and ached as he peered at the sweet, delicate line of her buttocks when she moved into the river. The familiar feelings of lust that he felt for this British witch returned to tease him, so that he was forced to turn away, red and embarrassed by his voyeurism. His yearning for her was wrong, but he still felt an uncomfortable urge to surrender to the attraction of rape. Then, once his lust had been slaked, he knew he could be free to complete the Corinium king’s orders without further qualms.

  But such desires were disgraceful. Spying on her private nakedness was just as treacherous as any other thoughts or actions, so he kept his back to the waters and steeled himself to resist any further temptation.

  ‘Centurion,’ she called suddenly in an alarmed voice. ‘Could you please help me? The water is too deep. I’m having difficulty staying on my feet.’

  He hastened to the water’s edge, praying that the heightened colour in his cheeks was no longer obvious.

  ‘Could you hold my hand so I don’t fall? I don’t know how to swim.’

  ‘Of course, my lady. Take my arm and I’ll help you to return to the bank.’

  The centurion extended his right hand which she grabbed quickly. He had only taken a single step towards the bank when a moss-covered rock turned under his heel and, left arm windmilling wildly, he slipped backwards into the waters and dragged Severa down with him.

  He rose out of the water spewing water from his open mouth and shaking his head like a dog. His right hand steadied Severa, whose hair covered her face in a tangled wave of dark honey. For reasons that she couldn’t understand, he laughed.

  Unaccountably, she also began to laugh. Despite her near-nakedness, she stood in river water in the embrace of a man who was not one of her kinsmen. In the circle of the arms that were steadying her, she felt no shame.

  With a twinge of embarrassment, the two pulled themselves apart. Aware that their relationship had changed, the pair returned to their rudimentary camp after she had dressed. A long and frustrating night lay ahead of them.

  CHAPTER X

  Trapped

  Deceive boys with toys, but men with oaths.

  Lysander, Proverbs

  Beyond the foul-smelling mud and clay tracks used by the lowland farmers, the Romans found a narrow valley heading into a more mountainous area, where some small homesteads were linked together by veritable goat tracks. On these uncertain paths, the column managed to find their way through the hills with the use of scouts to reconnoitre the land ahead of them. Paulus led his command in the general direction of the south-west coast. As he cursed this rarely travelled and mostly deserted landscape, the decurion guided his column through the valley, hemmed in with hills on either side.

  ‘If I was going to attack a vulnerable column, this is the place that I’d select to carry it out,’ Paulus said to himself. He imagined arrows trained on his back and stiffened his shoulders in response.

  ‘Trufo! Send word back through the column. They must be on the alert for hostiles. This terrain is perfect for bowmen to hit us from the tree-line on either side of the track.’

  Using his gladius, Paulus pointed towards the deep expanse of forest that covered the hills on both sides in two impenetrable, primeval walls. From the tree-line, narrow stretches of land swept down to a rushing stream.

  ‘We’re dangerously exposed here, so keep your shields close at hand.’

  Suddenly, the column was forced to halt and retrace its steps when the river valley narrowed even more. The path had become so rough that the wagons could no longer move safely along the rutted track without disastrous consequences. The entire column was forced to retreat back to a point where the valley yielded up another pathway that had obviously been used in the past to carry market produce. Though overgrown, at least it was wide enough for the wagons to pass along it in reasonable safety.

  At the apex of one ridge where Paulus had climbed to view the terrain that lay before the column, he found that the track was petering out once again, as if the farmers who had used it in bygone days had been stolen away by some terrible and pitiless foe and their farmsteads had been abandoned. He shrugged and considered divesting himself of the wagons that were proving to be such a liability in these wastelands.

  After climbing a tree on the ridge, he could see the blue-grey curve of the coast beyond the rugged hills where a few protected crescents of beaches were barely visible. Segments of grey cliffs and stone ramparts seemed to mark the boundary between land and sea.

  ‘Bugger me!’ Paulus swore. ‘There don’t seem to be any trees or obvious places of ambush between us and the coast, but it’s rough country, so there’s no chance of taking the wagons over the ridge and through there,’ he told Trufo. ‘We’ll ditch them and head into the south, hugging the coast as we go.’

  Once he had made his decision, Paulus acted with typical Roman determination. The useful contents of the wagons were distributed between all the troops, so the rations and other stores were retained for consumption during the remainder of the journey. The horses became mounts for those persons who had travelled on the clumsy carts and the comman
d was soon moving through the difficult terrain with greater speed.

  Buoyed up by the possibility that his command might be able to reach the coast before they were attacked, Paulus faced the night with renewed confidence. He could finally admit to himself that he had been fearful of the Armorican and dreaded the responsibility for the men’s safety that had fallen on his unwilling shoulders. His nerves had been stretched for days as he waited for an ambush that never came.

  Perhaps the column could still reach Tintagel unscathed.

  Shy when she was in the company of the centurion, Severa faced a new day with legs and feet that had much improved after their dousing in the river. Mindful of her mother’s advice to always treat even the smallest break in the skin with medication, she rubbed a little unguent from her saddlebags into the chafing and blisters, while trusting to a good night’s sleep that would speed the healing process.

  Constantinus awoke before dawn and ordered camp to be broken. After days of travel, the three riders were accustomed to the patterns of the road. They had lived on cold rations for the large part, as the weather was still mild and a fire might attract unwelcome attention from their enemies. Severa’s allotted task was to organise the camp and monitor their use of supplies and rations, as well as collecting any fresh water needed during their overnight bivouac. She would seek out places where springs reached the surface of the earth in the hope that these waters were safe for human and animal consumption.