"Storm's coming," she heard one of the rowers cry.
She bit her lip and forced back the tears. No, she thought with sudden savage determination, Conall was not going to die for nothing. Her husband was not going to die for nothing. She was not going to let that happen.
***
The storm struck just as the ship made it into a small protected cove. The Captain's will seemed to have prevailed this time for the slaver had not objected. That night as torrential rain had come hurtling down and the wind had lashed out and roared across the land the ship's crew had huddled together on the rocky beach sheltering under any cover they could find whilst everyone waiting for the storm to pass. Not a man had slept that night, the noise of the gigantic waves battering the shore and the howl of the wind had been too much. Now as weary faces peered eastwards hoping to catch a glimpse of dawn the storm's force was unabated. If anything the fury of the wind and rain seemed to be getting worse.
Emogene tugged at her iron chains. Her face and body were soaked as she sat chained to the slaver a little further up the beach. Vellocatus snarled at her not to move. The slaver too was soaked. He sat staring at the boiling sea with his arms folded across his chest and his legs drawn up together. From under the hood of his cloak he looked annoyed and irritated. Seeing the look on his face gave Emogene some grim satisfaction. She pulled again on her chains and the slaver's head whipped round towards her.
"When we get to the headland," she cried out, "I forgot to tell you. There are rocks in the sea. You must pass them to get to the cave. If you hit those rocks the ship will sink. I have seen it happen. I can show you where they are."
Vellocatus stared at her through the driving rain.
"Stop playing games with me," he yelled.
Emogene tugged once more at her chains. "I am telling you the truth. I will show you the way to get to the amber cave but first you must take these chains off. If I were to fall overboard, I would drown and you would have no one to guide you passed those rocks."
She held her breath as the slaver stared out into the rain.
"Where am I going to go in this weather," she cried, "Where am I going to go with all your men onboard that ship? Take these chains off me."
Around them the wind howled and the rain came streaking in plastering their faces. Vellocatus was silent. Then he turned.
"If you are lying to me bitch," he snarled, "I will burn you with that poker."
***
The galley rose and pitched into the waves and a blast of salty sea water crashed over the prow soaking the rowers. It was noon but in the grey sky there was no sign of the sun. The ship groaned and creaked. Emogene held onto the mast with both hands as the deck lurched up and down and then from side to side. Vellocatus had removed the chains from around her neck and the relief from their heavy weight was immense. The storm however was still raging. She glanced at the Captain. The sailor looked furious. Vellocatus had forced him back to sea against his will. His rowers had nearly mutinied but the threat of physical violence and death had persuaded them to go back to their seats. Now they huddled on their benches in sullen silence trying to shield themselves from the waves as best as they could. There oars had been stowed but the main sail was still up.
Emogene turned her face into the wind. The sea spirits had heard her prayers. She felt the smooth cold power of the wind as it rushed across her face and tossed her hair up into the air. Her heart was pounding away in her chest. Would the men see the tension in her body? Over to the port bow the dark grey rocky coastline could be seen a half a mile away. She saw the captain glance apprehensively up at the mast and sail. Vellocatus was in a hurry she thought. He was taking a big risk by setting out into the storm. She peered through the rain searching for the slaver and saw him standing by the prow, one hand holding onto the ship, staring at the grey sea and the cloud filled sky. This was the day upon which she had said he would die. A sudden movement caught her attention. A seagull was hovering over the ship, its wings spread with majestic ease as it glided effortlessly on the wind. To the north the sky had turned even darker. As she watched she saw a forked shaft of lightning stab into the sea followed moments later by the dull rolling clap of thunder. Emogene wiped the rain from her eyes. The ship was sailing straight into the eye of the storm. The captain turned and yelled something in a furious voice at the slaver but Vellocatus pretended not to have heard him. Emogene looked down at her hands. Her breath came in short sharp bursts. She was nervous. She glanced around. Bestia sat a few paces away holding onto the deck with both hands, his hood drawn closely around his head. He looked seasick. He had been throwing up all morning. Beyond him amongst the waves she suddenly caught sight of some flotsam, a wooden log that the storm must have ripped from the land. Without hesitation Emogene tensed, took three steps forwards and leapt from the ship into the boiling sea.
Chapter Thirty Eight - Hope and fear
Emogene plunged into the sea. A wave towered over her and then she was underwater in a dark, green tumbling world. Panic stricken she burst to the surface, spluttering and received a wet salty slap in the face. She sucked air into her lungs. The water was cold, so cold but she had been expecting that. The next wave came towards her but this time she managed to go with the swell and ride it out. She twisted her neck as she heard a shout behind her. The ship was already some distance away. A lone figure was standing at the rear pointing at her. He was shouting but she couldn't see who it was or hear what he was saying. The sea was tossing her about with contemptuous ease. She cried out with growing panic. What had she done. She was going to drown. The sea spirits will help me. The sea spirits will save me. The thoughts rushed through her mind like men running to put out a fire. She rose up with the next wave. Her fingers felt numb with cold. To the west she caught a sudden glimpse of the land as another long white foaming wave rolled in towards her. Down, down she went, then up and up and once more she caught sight of the land. She was a good strong swimmer but she had never been out in the sea in a storm like this. Another wave rolled in and her desperate staring eyes suddenly caught sight of the wooden log she had seen earlier. Despite herself she screamed in delight. The sea spirits were with her. Frantically she dug her legs and arms into the water but her pathetic attempts to swim seemed to have no effect. Suddenly she relaxed. It was no use trying to swim. Her fate was now in the hands of the sea gods. She was completely in their power. Soon she would know what they had decided. She gasped as another blast of icy water struck her face. The wind was howling and swooping over the unsettled sea. Another wave was sucking her down, down, then she was going up again and a moment later her body was slammed into the drifting piece of flotsam. Wildly she scrabbled to grab hold of the wood. The log was thick and long enough for her to half crawl onto it. Her legs and waist however were still in the water. A wave tried to tear her off the flotsam but she held on with desperate strength.
***
It was evening and out at sea the storm continued to buffet and lash at the waves. Emogene lay on the rocky beach where the current had washed her ashore. She could hear the crash of the waves on the rocks and the howling of the wind but the noise seemed distant and inconsequential. She was soaked to the bone but she couldn't feel the coldness. It was as if her mind had become separated from the rest of her body. Nearby the log that had saved her had become wedged between the rocks. As the waves crashed ashore a fine spray of water landed on her head and body. She moved in and out consciousness. Then at last she opened her eyes. The sea gods had protected her. They had not wanted her to die. She remembered the biting cold, the panic and the single savage thought that had dominated her mind. She had to hold on. She had to endure. She blinked and wearily raised her head and turned to look at the sea. She had endured. She had escaped. There was a sudden maturity about her that was beyond her nineteen years. Let any man try and do what she had done. She was their equal now. She looked up at the sky. Sea gulls were circling over the cliffs to the north. She closed her eyes and ran her hand ov
er her face. Then she got to her feet. She had to warn her father about the impending attack on her people. She had to warn him about Vellocatus and his plan to plunder the amber cave. She turned to look around. She hadn't got a clue where she was but if she followed the coast northwards the shoreline would lead her home. Home, she thought as she started to walk, her home was in danger. She quickened her pace. Her father was in danger.
***
Dougal stood alone at the edge of the high cliff looking out to sea. The sun was sinking into the mountains to the west and above him gliding gracefully on the sea air currents the sea gulls swooped and dived. Dougal was an old man, stooping and leaning on his gnarled oak staff for support. He was already well passed fifty and now as he stared at the ocean his fingers carefully stroked his long grey beard. He was clad in a long flowing white robe embroidered with gold. The villagers had named him Dougal or dark stranger when he had first arrived in their settlement as a young refugee from the south. But Dougal wasn't his real name. His true name was Greer and his true home had been Ynys Mon, the sacred island of the druids. Ynys Mon was gone now, destroyed and desecrated by the Romans. Now the place only lived in his memories. He would never be able to return to the holy island where his father and grandfather had learnt and practised the secrets of the druids. Greer lifted his head to look at the swirling sea birds. To halt the remorseless Roman advance he had seen the elders sacrifice a warrior of noble birth in an attempt to force the gods to intervene against Rome but the sacrifice had been in vain. The warrior had died for nothing. The gods had not intervened and the Roman war machine had not been stopped.
Some of his friends, young druids fleeing from the destruction had urged him to come with them westwards, across the sea. Not to the island of Hibernia but across the great vast ocean to the continent that lay beyond. His friends had said they would be safe there. They had said that the druids would survive if they emigrated but he had refused to join them. Instead he and his son had fled north. The druids may know the secrets of nature and man. They may be able to read the will of the gods but he had become obsessed by a single question which he couldn't answer. Was it the will of the gods that Rome should rule all? The question remained and he had been unable to abandon his people. He had to find the answer for only then could he stand before the tribes and put the heart back into his people and make them believe in themselves and their cause. But the gods had been silent and for years now his divination had produced nothing.
The small peninsula on which he stood jutted out into the ocean towards the north west with the sea surrounding it on three sides. On the western side a rocky beach curled slowly away and to the east the flat fields, covered with long grass and heather encrusted sand dunes vanished into the gathering gloom. In front of him, just a foot away the steep cliff face dropped sharply down to the sea below. Behind him smoke was rising from the thatched round houses inside the promontory fort that was built on top of the headland. The low slung thatched roofs were nearly touching the ground. Greer gave the sea a final sullen look, then he turned and started to make his way back home. The fort was large and well populated but he didn't pause to talk to the people who came and went. The villagers were busy with their chores but they nodded to him in respect as he passed by. On the landward side the peninsula was defended by three impressive, layered earthen and wooden ramparts with walkways behind them and an outer ditch. Greer approached the inner entrance and glanced in the direction of the chambered well. A young man stood guard outside the steps leading down to the well door. The warrior nodded at Greer but the druid ignored him. Trouble was coming. He could feel it in his bones.
He passed on through the two outer ramparts and crossed the muddy ditch. His house and that of Emogene's husband stood together on a small hill about a mile away from the fort. He had never told Emogene about her brother. She had never known him. He had refused to talk about his son. He ambled along at his slow but steady pace his head sunk deep in thought. Trouble was coming. Could he really wait until Samhain? The proposal, although unexpected, did make sense. During Samhain the door between the world of the living and the dead would open. It was the perfect time to make the sacrifice and read the will of the gods but something was making him uneasy. Trouble was coming. Would he have enough time? Was it not better to end the matter now before events could distract him?
He was muttering to himself as he stepped through the doorway into his house. He lived alone now that his wife and son were dead and the others had gone to live in Emogene's dead husband's house. He closed the door behind him. One of the women who lived in the neighbouring house had lit a fire for him. He shuffled towards it and then stopped in surprise. A woman was standing beside the fire warming her hands. She turned. It was Emogene, his daughter. She looked exhausted.
***
Emogene turned and looked up into her father's wise pale blue eyes. In the past she would have wanted to fling herself into his warm embrace but now something held her back. Instead she managed a smile or relief.
"Father," she said, "I am so glad to see you."
Greer didn't move, nor did he speak. He just stared at her. Then he dipped his head in silent recognition and greeting.
Emogene blew the air from her cheeks and wiped her forehead. She looked bedraggled, exhausted and hungry.
"There is much to say and I am afraid we have little time," she blurted out. "It has taken me four days to get here. I came as fast as I could but I may already have arrived too late."
She paused and stared at her father and there was urgency in her voice as she spoke. "I have news, important news which we need to share with all our kin. The Decantae led by Baldurix are planning an all out attack. The Romans are going to support them. Baldurix thinks that with the support of the Romans he can defeat us. He intends to slaughter us all. You must warn our men. And there is something else," she swallowed nervously, "Baldurix and his friends know about the amber. They know where to find the precious stones. They are coming here to raid the cave. They may have done so already. We must post a watch on the cliffs."
Greer's face darkened. His body tensed and his pale blue eyes stared at her with growing anger and suddenly Emogene felt a tingle of fear slither down her spine.
"How did Baldurix find out about the stones?" Greer's voice rasped. "I thought you told me that you killed Conall?"
Emogene looked down at the earth.
"They tortured me," she muttered. "They burned me with metal rods. I told them where they could find the cave. It is my fault that they know."
The round room fell silent. Greer stared at his daughter and as he did so Emogene felt her fear grow.
"You were weak," Greer's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Did you not once swear an oath of silence to me? Do you not understand why the stones had to be kept hidden? Why their very existence had to be kept secret? If the Romans find out about the amber it will just fuel their greed and they will be all over our land like rabbits in summer. They will never leave. They will never leave when they know about the amber." Greer paused for breath. "Is that what you want? Do you want these invaders to rule us for eternity?" the druid thundered.
"Of course not," Emogene shook her head. She looked at her father with a startled expression, "None of us want that but what is done is done. I have come here to warn you and our men. We must prepare ourselves."
Greer tightened his grip on his oak staff. "What is done is done," he repeated her words. Then he fixed his pale blue eyes on her and there was something cold and heartless in the way he looked at her.
"Do you remember the punishment for breaking your oath," he rasped.
Emogene felt her body grow cold. She stared at her father in sudden horror.
"Death," the old druid rasped.
"No, father, please!" Emogene cried out.
"Bodvoc, come here at once," Greer shouted.
Emogene felt tears trickling down her face. She fell to her knees and tried to clasp her father's waist but he smote her an
grily with his staff and she fell backwards.
"There will be no exceptions," he rasped.
"I am your daughter," Emogene sobbed as she lay on the ground. "You are my father. Please do not do this."
Her desperate pleas were interrupted as the door opened. Bodvoc stepped inside. He gasped in surprise as he saw Emogene on the floor.
"Take her to the well and lock her up inside," Greer snapped. "I have no more use for my daughter. She has betrayed us all."
***
Emogene remained silent as Bodvoc grasped her by the arm and pushed her down the stone steps that led to the chambered well. He had not said a word as he had marched her the mile from her father's house into the fort on the headland but she could sense that he was confused and unhappy about what he was doing. It was no use arguing with him or the young warrior who stood guarding the well. In this village and amongst her kin, her father's word was law. They would never disobey a druid. Her tears had dried but she still couldn't believe what had happened. She had not for a moment considered escape. How could she? He was her father. These were her people. Her family and friends. This was her home.
"I will come back later with some food," Bodvoc muttered as he unbolted the well door. He sounded apologetic and refused to look her in the eye. The door opened and he pushed her inside without another word. She heard the bolts slide shut behind her. With her fingers she touched the cool stone wall. It was damp. She turned to look around. She was in a dark chamber around four yards high and a few yards wide. The only light came from the small cracks between the door and the wall. To her right she could hear the gentle drip of water. The chamber was too dark for her to see the basin of water from which the fort drew its water supply. The basin was fed by a tiny underground stream. She leaned back against the stone walls of the well and slid slowly to the ground. She was exhausted. A sudden movement in the darkness startled her and she jumped back to her feet. Something had moved in the darkness.
Caledonia Page 18
