by M. K. Hume
‘I’m just a lowly woman,’ Severa said to herself with a distinct feeling of foreboding. ‘What has Cadal got in mind for me if Ardunn is this nervous when she’s in my presence?’
Before Severa had the chance to worry herself any further, a knock interrupted her rebellious thoughts as a serving maid entered the room. She presented a food tray on which a bowl of beef broth was steaming.
‘My name is Dilic, mistress, and I’m to be your maid from now on,’ she explained, smiling. She was a pretty green-eyed girl with masses of coal-black, curling hair that hung down over her shoulders in a riot of ringlets.
‘My queen has permitted the Roman centurion to pay you a visit after you have finished eating your broth, mistress.’ Dilic smiled in a gesture of diplomacy, before pausing to cough delicately. ‘However, she told me that I am required to stay in the room with you to preserve your modesty.’
Severa paused with the wooden spoon part-way to her mouth. She closed her lips over her teeth with a snap at Dilic’s use of the word modesty.
Prior to her departure from Corinium, Severa would have accepted the presence of a chaperone as one of the tedious disadvantages of being a woman. Now, in a short space of time, she had cast off her conservative upbringing and had begun to question the foundations on which her life and culture was based. She had killed a kinsman and five other men, but couldn’t be trusted to be alone with a man.
As she stared down at the bowl of broth, Severa realised that she had lost her appetite. Pushing the tray away, she placed her spoon carefully into the dish.
‘I’m no longer hungry, Dilic, so you can take this slop away. You may usher in the centurion now. No, don’t bother to argue that I need sustenance. I’ll eat later, but I intend to speak with him before I do anything else.’
‘Very well, mistress,’ Dilic replied meekly and opened the door. ‘You may enter, my lord,’ she said to the centurion, who did so cautiously.
To Severa’s relief, the Roman’s face lit up from within as soon as their eyes met. She was surprised to see him looking so well, although she could see the white of a bandage under his tunic, a dressing that was stark against his tanned skin.
Clearing her throat to ensure that Constantinus was aware of her presence, Dilic drew up a stool close to Severa’s bed on which the centurion could sit, before placing a low cushion in a corner of the room for herself. Conscious of the servant’s proximity, the Roman officer seated himself on the proffered stool.
‘You look very well, Centurion, so I suppose the shaft of the arrow was removed from your shoulder without difficulty.’
‘Aye! Tintagel has an excellent healer and she uses some kind of paste made from seaweed to pack the wounds and keep them free of corruption. Drusus received the same treatment for his injuries, so I’m afraid our quarters smell like stale fish and sea salt. For all that, we have managed to survive and are still breathing, which is a certain sign of God’s mercy.’
Severa bit her thumb reflectively and raised her eyes to meet his. There was a worrying gap in her memory, one that was causing her great concern. ‘I still don’t know how we reached Tintagel, Centurion. I can’t remember anything of the journey, although I’ve tried and tried. I can remember being helped to mount my horse and I can also recall your voice when you told me to hold on to the mare’s mane. I even have a vague memory of rain on my face and the wind in my hair, but that’s all. The queen asked me what happened during our journey, but I didn’t know what to say.’
‘We rode all day and long into the twilight. But in all those hours, you wouldn’t say a word. You seemed to be riding in a daze, as if you were asleep or unconscious, despite your wide-open eyes. We made you drink water and we made you rest whenever we could, but all we could do was search for Paulus and the column and hope to reach Tintagel as soon as possible.’
‘My brain was addled,’ Severa agreed with a rueful smile. ‘So I’m lucky to be alive.’
‘Aye! I’ve seen many men who have suffered wounds such as yours, and most of them never regained their memory – or their senses! To explain, we rode on into the evening and stumbled on to the track leading down to Tintagel. It was just after moonrise. I’m not a fanciful man, as you know, because the Roman legions aren’t places for sentimental or superstitious fools. But I have to admit that I shivered with fear when I first saw the island, for it seemed to be crouching like a dragonlet on the edge of the ocean. Lights were burning at its crown as if the window openings were eyes or flaming nostrils. Then I realised that the crouching dragon was actually a fortress built on a rocky headland linked to the coast by a natural stone bridge. And then Paulus and Cadal’s warriors appeared on the path leading down to the guardhouse, so we were soon whisked into the fortress.’
‘I created a great deal of trouble for you and your legionnaires to cope with.’ Severa was still hoping that Constantinus’s recollections of their journey might restore her memory. If not, her involvement in that dreadful ride would be lost to her forever.
‘My duty was to deliver you to Tintagel,’ Constantinus continued. ‘I succeeded by sheer luck. I was fortunate that you saved us from disaster when you played your part in the melee at the cave. Ultimately, Conanus’s political plots were brought to nothing by your bravery. The man who played such a major part in the battle of the Save River and the assassination of Emperor Gratian in Gallia was killed by a slip of a girl in easy fashion, and I believe now that God must have been amused at the Armorican’s presumption and hubris. Ultimately, your uncle was a foolish man who lost his last gamble with destiny.’
Severa shuddered as she recalled the incident in the cave. She had been holding the knife in her left hand, and hadn’t made a conscious decision to use it when Conanus first grasped her from behind and lifted her off her feet. But her response had been instinctive and she could remember how easily the blade had slid into Conanus’s belly, as if Calindre was actively seeking a scabbard of flesh. Her face paled and a line of sweat appeared along her hairline.
Constantinus reached out and gripped her left hand to comfort her. From her seat in the corner, Dilic stirred nervously and wondered what she should do to stop this unseemly gesture. Fortunately, Constantinus heard her faint gasp of concern and quickly released Severa’s hand.
‘You mustn’t think of his death as a murderous act, Severa. You simply reacted like any person would do if they were forced to defend themselves against someone who proved himself to be a heartless assassin.’
‘But it was my blade that killed him. I struck out at him without conscious thought, Centurion, but I deliberately pushed down on the haft of the weapon to ensure he was incapacitated enough to release me. The blade sliced into his insides and ripped his belly open when I tried to draw it out, so I killed him as surely as day follows night. I knew what I was doing. I was sick of running like a fugitive, eating hard rations and sleeping in the woods like a vagabond.
‘Can you understand my concerns, Constantinus? I was tired of being harried and pursued like an animal, so I’m beginning to think I meant to kill him from the moment I had the opportunity. Perhaps I’m an incorrigible sinner who deserves to be punished, so the good Lord might still damn me for my selfish desires.’
Constantinus shook his head vigorously. ‘Hogwash! You were brave and your efforts saved all three of us from death, Severa, so you mustn’t speak such nonsense. Besides, your memory of the events of that night is shaky at best.’
‘I hadn’t hit my head then, so I can remember most of the details. I can recall every smell and even the gasp that Conanus made when I stabbed him. He had his knife at my throat and he could have killed me if he chose to finish me off.’
‘He tried, you little fool. Conanus had already realised that his plans had been thwarted and his whole scheme had no chance of success. He was prepared to cut your throat for the trouble you’d given him.’
Severa raised her hand to her neck and found the edge of a bandage that covered a shallow slice; someone had stitched the edges of the wound together.
‘I’d forgotten that! He must have sliced at my throat just as I stabbed him. You’re correct, I suppose. He’d already decided that I mustn’t be allowed to live.’
Severa’s thoughts were suddenly clearer, as if the accumulated clouds of doubt had been driven out of her head. Her uncle had tried to kill her after his ambitions were destroyed in the entrance of that paltry little cavern.
Constantinus understood that any residual guilt she felt had been greatly eased now she was aware of the wound on her throat. What a warrior she’d have made if Magnus Maximus had fathered a son instead of a daughter, he thought admiringly, while the lascivious part of his brain decided that she would be a particularly beautiful young woman with her amber hair loose on his pillow.
To his shame, Constantinus suddenly recalled the old soothsayer’s prophecy and the confidences that he had related to Cadal during the king’s earlier questioning. Could he really expect to marry this woman? He had been surprised when Cadal had queried his relationship with Maximus’s daughter as soon as the centurion was well enough to hold a rational discussion. But both men had understood the implications of both Cadal’s questions and the answers. Perhaps Constantinus’s time had finally come.
As if she was reading the centurion’s thoughts, Severa smiled and gazed directly into his eyes. ‘The queen has questioned me about my behaviour with you during our journey from Corinium,’ she explained. ‘You know what the unkind persons around us will say about us. My name will be bandied about by the high and the low, for it seems that I’m not to be trusted.’
Surprised, the Roman realised that his thoughts had been so synchronised with hers that she seemed able to read his mind. Perhaps one of them might have spoken imprudently in the moments that followed, but at that moment Queen Ardunn swept into the chamber.
‘Heavens, Centurion, our patient is scarcely well enough to receive visitors,’ Ardunn admonished him while her quick eyes took in the untouched broth. ‘Severa needs to eat if she is to become healthy. Off with you, Centurion! You can tell the others that Lady Severa is improving, but she is still confined to her pallet. As for you, Dilic, get yourself off to the kitchens and refresh that broth. I intend to watch this young lady as she swallows every mouthful.’
Severa opened her mouth to protest, but Constantinus raised one finger to his lips as he passed through the doorway, so Severa obediently lowered her mulish eyes and bit her tongue. Only Dilic saw the message that passed between them.
As the door closed behind the servant, Ardunn sighed with exasperation. ‘Not only do you refuse to eat but you’ve welcomed that all-too-handsome legionnaire into the privacy of your room. I know what it’s like to be young, but please be sensible, Severa. What would your father have thought?’
‘My father is long dead, but from what I’ve heard, he had no patience with the opinions of other people, no matter how well-meaning they were,’ Severa replied angrily. ‘I want to know a number of details about the ambush in the hills that took place on the night before our arrival in Tintagel and Constantinus is the only person who can tell me the truth about what happened.’
Ardunn paled at such blunt speaking.
‘Don’t speak of such ugly matters, girl. Ladies don’t bear arms! I thought you wanted your knife for protection, and I definitely haven’t been made aware that you’ve used such a vicious weapon. I must insist that you remain careful, Severa, for people might decide that you’re too forward for your own good.’
‘If only . . .’ Severa almost snapped out a sarcastic response. ‘I’ve learned in recent months that I’m in the unhappy position of being the means whereby some utterly useless man will gain a throne if he can inveigle me into marriage, with or without my consent. It seems that I’d still make a suitable wife for men of ambition if I was in possession of two heads.’
This shocking statement left Ardunn speechless, and she began to wonder what kind of cuckoo had been thrust into Cadal’s nest.
Dilic was holding court in the small stone building where all food was prepared in the fortress. By the light of a large fire, the girl sat on a stool and held the attention of a motley collection of servants, cooks and maids who rarely had anything of interest to amuse them.
‘I’ll not lie to you, Barrfind! That Roman is too pleasing by far and I swear the young lady is all too aware of every one of his many muscles. Oh, girls! He’s something special and I’ll not object if he plants his boots beside my pallet.’
Dilic’s indelicate statement was met with ribald laughter and several vulgar comments were provided by the serving maid’s male companions about what they would do to Severa if an opportunity should arise.
‘I’ve been told she opened up her uncle’s belly with a special knife that shares her pallet with her, Marcan, so I don’t like your chances of survival with Lady Severa. If she was capable of slicing up her uncle, she’d make short work of a clod like you.’
Then Dilic made an exaggerated slicing gesture across her groin and the room was again alive with laughter.
She continued once the laughter subsided, but her manner was suddenly more serious.
‘One thing I do know is that the Roman centurion is soft on her, although he doesn’t seem to know what he wants. And she’s as sweet on him as any sensible girl would be. The queen knows it too. The old witch came into the room with a face that would curdle milk, and I had a distinct feeling she was hoping to find them in a compromising situation.’
Dilic crossed herself with sincere gratitude for the gentility shown by her mistress and the Roman when the queen had entered the room without warning. She had never been flogged or dismissed for failing to carry out her duties so, with luck, she would be given the position as lady’s maid during the interesting days that would lie ahead. Perhaps she might even be fortunate enough to be taken away from gloomy old Tintagel, where nothing interesting ever happened.
While Dilic waited for the flustered cook to refill the ceramic bowl with fresh broth, she was savouring her own secret dreams.
All that a clever girl ever needed was an opportunity and Dilic was determined not to let any fortuitous circumstances pass her by.
Meanwhile, as they waited for the evening meal, Constantinus was enduring a conversation with Cadal. The topic was pointed and awkward.
Initially, the king had insisted that his Roman guest should join him in the hall where his family members normally partook of their supper. However, he then decided that the complex discussion he wanted to pursue with Constantinus could best be carried out in the privacy of the high room of Tintagel, the same apartment where Magnus Maximus had been entertained by King Caradoc so many years earlier. Here, although the stout shutters kept out most of the prevailing winds that buffeted the window openings, its airiness meant that this vantage point would always be draughty and chilly.
Cadal cast his eye over the delicacies that had been prepared for his guest. Several trays of chicken, quail and chunks of beef were presented with roasted root vegetables. Fish in savoury sauce, roasted nuts, and mashed stone fruits in honeyed pastries were all laid out on small platters.
Constantinus entered the room under the watchful eyes of an accompanying Dumnonii warrior. The niceties had barely been completed before Cadal launched into a series of sharp questions on the Roman’s intentions towards the daughter of Flavius Magnus Maximus.
‘I understand that your actions have been shaped by your orders to deliver Lady Severa to our fortress . . . but . . .’ Cadal paused delicately, as if to suggest that this line of questioning wasn’t really as insulting as it sounded. But Constantinus was unmoved and remained silent. Finally, with a weary sigh, he tried to explain what had transpired in Corinium.
‘That’s correct! My instruct
ions from King Aeron were clear and unequivocal. I was told that he required me to deliver Lady Severa to Tintagel at all costs, while he would notify my commanders in Deva of the task that had been delegated to me. He would also inform them of the fate of Marcus Britannicus. For my part, I was to employ all means at my disposal to ensure that Severa didn’t fall into the clutches of her uncle, Conanus, an Armorican who was described as extraordinarily dangerous to Rome and Britannia, both in physical and political terms. There was no ambiguity attached to this task from my point of view as a senior officer of the legion. Severa must arrive at Tintagel unscathed, and I should use any resources at my disposal.’
Constantinus raised his chin pugnaciously, daring Cadal to find some fault with his statement. I am a Roman, he thought. Why do I need to justify my actions to a British king who matters nothing in the ebb and flow of the real world?
‘I can understand your dilemma!’ Cadal conceded. ‘Unfortunately, the task given to you by Aeron has presented us with a vexing problem of morality that is not of your making. Aeron should have realised that we Britons have rules aplenty that are designed to protect our womenfolk from vulgar comment, especially since the advent of Christianity within our lands. Severa’s honour might have been compromised when she was permitted to travel to Tintagel with you. She was unchaperoned during your journey, an oversight that could leave many of my peers to conclude that her worth has been soiled during the time she was travelling with adult males.’
Constantinus stared at Cadal with an unreadable expression.
‘Your women’s trustworthiness must be lacking, Highness, if British men feel a need to watch their females constantly in case they fall into sin when they are absent from the seat of male domination,’ he stated in a conversational tone, as if he viewed the customs as quaint and primitive.
