As we leave the smoke of London and drift into the countryside I am shocked to feel the strong pull of the earth. Their deep voices have been dull to me but now they speak loudly. Jessica plans our journey in meticulous detail and counts our provisions. We have a quantity of money; the procurement of lodging, fodder and fresh horses will not trouble us. Issa believes that we may reach Wales within a few days and spurs the horses with vigour.
I notice that Ruth is strangely quiet; she understands that Malina has some part in this. Elements of her old life under the sway of that witch are sliding to the surface of her mind. She and I are similar in so many ways. We have both been hiding from the past amid the distractions of London. I watch her staring at the birds as they fly overhead. The beasts which run along the path do not escape her eye either. Just as I reconnect with my roots, I think perhaps she dwells on the neglected power of her own forgotten skills.
‘Something is wrong with the birds.’ She says. ‘They are flying too high and they do not flock together.’
‘What does it mean?’ I ask her.
‘It is not an obvious augur of the future. Their behaviour is simply unnatural. Like when the whale beaches itself or the wolf abandon her cubs. There is a sickness at work here.’ She looks at me and her eyes are full of sad reflection. I do not wish upon her the sorrow and pain of her past but I remember her in the forest at Lindisfarne. If we are to meet Malina or any other evil on the road, it would be better to have Ruth tempered than blunt.
‘Should I be worried about something?’ asks Issa from where he holds the reins.
‘We are ready for whatever lies ahead.’ I reply.
‘Not if you decide to go into another dreamy trance, Weed. Then you’re nothing but a sack of potatoes if there’s a fight.’ He looks over his shoulder and kisses his teeth. ‘And I can see from your face that it is exactly what you intend.’
Jessica takes my hand. ‘Do what you must, darling.’
‘Thank you, Jessica.’ I care for this woman. It pains me when I think of what changes in her circumstances I have caused. ‘You have abandoned your position in Covent Garden for this raggedy troupe.’
‘Nonsense. I make choices just as you do.’ Her face hardens in resolve. ‘Besides, we may seem carefree at the theatre where anything goes, but it is not the case. We operate by the grace of the King under a Royal Charter. I was with you when the Lord Chamberlain was shot dead; I could hardly go back to the playhouse wings after that.’
I look at her plainly. ‘There may be dangers on the path. I would not have you harmed.’
‘Let the path be troublesome then. I like an adventure and this way I get to keep an eye on you.’ Her voice lowers to a private tone meant just for me. ‘In my life I’ve met many people, criminals and kings, but you are unlike other men. Ruth has explained a little of what you feel when you touch the earth and speak to the growing leaves. Extraordinary things happen to extraordinary people, Weed. I will stay with you and keep you safe as best I can for now.’
‘We all will,’ Says Ruth firmly. She has overheard us. I wonder at how easily a group of friends used to cavorting in London can so quickly move to a war footing. And then I remember whom I travel with: Ruth, who has done battle in front of my own eyes; Issa, who has traversed the war-torn lands of Europe, Africa and Asia without fear; and then of course Jessica, virtuous and hard-headed. One look at her and I see a determined woman who has struggled every day of her life.
I remove from my pocket the pod of seeds and squeeze from within it a second kernel; its white has faded to grey and the moisture on its skin is gone. Feeling the gentle rocking of the carriage beneath me I steady my breathing, put the seed into my mouth and gulp it down. I sink in languor and rise in panic. A burning ignites at the tips of my fingers first. Then acid tendrils snake up from hands to wrist, elbow to shoulder. My trunk erupts in pain as my heart beats its first waxy clot into my veins and I come alive.
I hear words: ‘Mona in three days, Nero.’ It is a man dressed in ornate, bronze armour and a red-feathered helmet that speaks.
‘Good, darling Paulinus. We will be in time to meet these civilised barbarians at the moment of their high ceremony.’ A short man with an open, intelligent face stands next to the first. He wears the pelt of a bear, a cape of scarlet and a wreath on his head. We stand in a white tent erected around a chaise longue and a desk overflowing with parchment and scrolls.
‘Why do we approach these scattered Priests in this distant island? They cannot number more than a few thousand. The towns and cities of this cold country burn already. Their women and men piss themselves at our approach. We take two whole legions to fight nothing more than refugees, separated from their people by great peaks and valleys.’
‘Your military prowess and your politicking are beyond reproach, dear Paulinus, but you read little by way of history and less by way of augury.’ The one called Nero indicates the papers on the table with a ringed finger. ‘Those we go to face at Mona are the spiritual leaders of this devoted people. They guide their laws and practises in every way. They are the guardians of their daily bread and of their immortal souls. We may burn as many cities as we like but without their Priests’ submission, Briton’s rebellions will multiply like a Hydra’s severed heads.’
‘Then we’ll smash them again, Great Nero! Break this island’s spirit!’
‘These are not the savages of Germania that we go to meet on the battlefield. Listen to the words of Aristotle on the subject: ‘the study of philosophy originated among the Celts and Britons with men who were called Druids.’ These Druids are the arbiters of a religion that gave birth to reason and philosophy. We can learn so much from them. What is more, these Priests must not be butchered, but rather tamed. If they can be controlled then Briton becomes our willing subject and the Pax Romana will have a fighting chance of uniting all of Europe.’
This man has a noble wisdom that marks him as a great leader. I speak, but my words are pre-ordained and involuntary. ‘At least it will be short work, Emperor. Our battalion of cavalry and infantrymen are ready. We go to meet them on your orders at the strait of Menai, which cleaves Mona from the mainland.’
‘Thank you, Agricola, but do not underestimate them. These Druids are described by Julius Caesar as warrior-priests. They will fight with blood and a heart of vengeance. Our problem of course is that they do not believe death removes them from the mortal coil as we do. Caesar writes ‘For them the soul does not perish but merely passes from one to another.’ Those that fear not death prove hard enemies.’
I look down at myself. I wear a tunic of leather and a great sword hangs at my side. My hand, brown and covered in thick dark hair fingers its blade. ‘We will have the element of surprise.’
‘That is doubtful too. I have done my own research on the subject.’ Nero takes a quill and hunts among notes on the desk in front of him. ‘Here Caesar writes again that by ritual sacrifice and the reading of living entrails they can determine the stars and their movements, the size of the cosmos and the earth, the world of nature, and above all the future.’
‘Like our own augurs and order of the Haruspex.’
‘Precisely, Agricola. They know we are coming. Paulinus, excuse us for a moment.’ I exit the tent with the Emperor and am astonished at the sight that greets me. There is a tremendous camp made on the open heath, which stretches as far as the eye can see in all directions. There must be thousands of men pulling up tents and setting fires burning. An immense city of cloth blowing in the evening breeze and everywhere I see great standards stuck into the ground bearing an eagle’s stern countenance. ‘Agricola, I have made my own divinations and they speak of many things. As Emperor I commune with the Gods; numerous secrets are laid bare for me. One thing I know to be true: Rome’s might will be eternal. It will never burn.’
As we proceed among the camp every soldier stops before us and gives obeisance to the Emperor. To each man he gives a kind word or two. He seems to know most of their names
and inquires freely after their families. ‘Agricola, how fares your daughter?’
I hear my voice make words. ‘Well indeed. She has born a son. My first grandchild, called Tacitus.’
‘Good. It is good to have family. Be sure to tell him of these days so that he will grow up and know the strength of Rome. We are on the cusp of greatness, when we will take this land for the empire. But there is more that we may wrest from these Celts at Mona than hills and fields. Why do you think Caesar was so interested in this cold outlying island that he wrote such great treatise on them? Upon what was his preoccupation with the Britons and their Druid-kings based?’
‘I am not qualified to suggest.’
‘So about Caesar: he died young, you know. He was a Haruspex too, just like every other ruler of Rome. He foresaw his own death although he knew not its exact nature. It was his obsession and he sought any means to keep it at bay. So I ask you: Do you think that the Druids represented to Caesar a way to escape his own mortality?’
‘How can the end that comes to all men be cheated?’
‘Caesar writes that the Druids are in possession of a queer interpretation of life and death. They see them as two phases of existence. Like winter and summer. And on this island of Mona where we go to war, they gather once yearly to worship a most powerful relic called Adder Stone. An object that, my studies suggest, can confer eternal life. What could that do for Rome? What could that do for me? The Eternal City it is deemed but I will be the eternal emperor. Caesar’s quest for immortality will be realised in me. I am an augur of some skill myself. My sacrifices tell me that Emperor Nero’s name will live on forever and Rome’s destiny will be transformed under my care.’
I look at Nero and in front of my eyes his face seems to freeze, smudge and smear. I feel a swift wind pass through my skin, atomising me like motes of dust in a storm. When I open my eyes again I am in a strange bed but the comforting form of Jessica is lying in my arms.
An oil lamp burns low and under its light I look at my love’s pale body lying next to mine. These curious visions of Gwirdrych’s seeds are so real as I live them; each time it feels like my essence disintegrates and coalesces into a strange mind and in a foreign time. I have been immobile for many hours or days and I flex my limbs, delighting to have their physical might under my control again. To be returned to myself is invigorating beyond words. My skin tingles as if it is newborn, eager for touch and arousal. I am naked and I imagine Jessica undressing my sleeping body. I want to make love to her here and now, wherever we are. In the semi-darkness I place my hand on her breast and at my touch her nipples stir even as her body slumbers. I kiss the nub of her breast gently and feel her tremble into dozy wakefulness. Her half-lidded eyes find mine and her mouth parts in pleasure.
‘Weed, are you awake or am I dreaming?’ She pulls me to her and reaches lazily down my body before smiling. ‘You really are awake.’ I return her grin. I brush the skin of her thighs, her hips and waist, watching a flush of blood as it chases my fingers up her body. She arches her back and stretches into me, letting her breasts graze against my chest.
‘Don’t stop.’ She takes my hand and leads it back to her hard nipple, guiding it in small circles.
She moves her body against mine in pleasure, her breath coming hard. She rolls on her side until her back is to me and pulls my arms around her. She nestles herself into me and I move my hand down her torso until I pass her navel. Draping her arm over my shoulder, she threads it behind my neck, drawing my lips down to her cheek where I kiss her playfully. With her other hand she takes my thigh and holds me closely against the curve of her body. Her back trembles against me and my kisses become more insistent.
‘Now.’ She breaks the kiss and takes my hand from where it plays, pulling me into her. My arms circle her stomach and I hold her tightly as my lips find her back, kissing her between her shoulder blades. She is gasping and I can feel her chest heave as I move against her. My palms cup her breasts and she murmurs her approval. I lean over her shoulder and she looks up into my eyes as we sweat together. She brings her hand to the back of my head and gathers me to her. Our mouths are open in our passion, lips grazing against each other softly and sweetly. Charged by lust I realise that this woman is my equal in life and in love and that sure knowledge gives me more pleasure than I have ever felt before.
The noises we make issue from deep within our throats. Our cries let the walls and ceilings know of our imminence. She stops kissing me and with eyes tightly shut she turns her head away from me. I feel her body quake and that final tremor sends me over the edge as we come together. We grip each other tightly and do not slacken as our breath slowly evens. I hold Jessica until she gently falls back to sleep in my arms.
Chapter 34
When the light of the morning comes I dress myself, leaving my love to her rest. I find the door to the bedroom and walk out into a low wooden corridor. I notice a window and peer out of it. The view is of green forests and a dirt track snakes away from us towards distant hills. From this elevation I see that I am on the first floor of a building and I follow the smell of a newly lit fire down a flight of stairs. It opens into a warm, homely room where Issa and Ruth are talking to a young woman. Issa holds the woman’s hand in his own and is peering intently at her fingers.
‘Just a minute. Just a minute. Got it!’ He holds his hand up triumphantly. ‘A splinter! A big one!’
‘Let me look.’ The young woman takes it from Issa. ‘Gosh. That was in my finger. No wonder it hurt so much. You have very skilled hands, Issa.’
‘I have been a sailor on wooden ships all my life. I am something of an expert at the removal of splinters, though rarely are they stuck in such pretty fingers.’
‘Kiss it better then,’ she says to him and he blushes, but draws her finger to his lips nevertheless.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ I say to the assembly.
Issa jumps up and embraces me. ‘So you are awake now. We have come far, Weed. Almost to Wales. We are at Hereford in the lovely establishment of fair Chloe.’
‘Fair Chloe? You’ll make me giddy. Is this the young gentleman who came in last night?.’ She speaks in a strange accent. ‘We thought you were half-dead when they had to drag you to your room. It was funny! Did you sleep well then?’
‘I am well rested.’ I confess.
‘I should say!’ She giggles. ‘The whole bloody house was on the point of collapse in the early hours. Such a racket you made. I almost had Issa get out of bed to check we weren’t being attacked.’ She puts her hand over her mouth and looks at my friend, who looks to his feet. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?’
Issa wraps his arms around Chloe ‘No need to apologise, my bird. I for one most certainly am not sorry. It was a fine choice to spend the night at this inn. Who knows what the nights to come will bring?’
She laughs again and stands on tip toes to kiss Issa on his cheek. ‘So. Who’s for breakfast?’
The voice of Jessica is on the stairwell. ‘Perhaps we should go now that it is light.’ I watch as she steps fully-dressed into the room. ‘Although if I may I would like to wash first.’
‘And I would like some breakfast!’ Declares Issa loudly.
‘Follow me then, my butty girl. There is a well at the back. The water’s mighty cold but it’s clean.’
‘Clean is good and the cold suits me fine.’
‘I dare say it was a hot night all round.’ Jessica follows Chloe out of the front door. Once they are gone I am free to speak with Issa and Ruth in private.
‘So how long was I out then?’
‘Three days this time, Weed. Deeper than before; you hardly moved an inch! Wales is a dozen miles or so west of here. But where do we go then? I was hoping you’d be able to tell us.’
‘I’ve been watching the skies.’ Says Ruth. ‘The most part of the birds continue on their disorganised course. Flying here and there in a strange fashion. Except for the wrens. They are all heading northwest at
speed. I do wish everything would go back to normal. It makes me feel peculiar seeing everything topsy turvy.’
‘Malina once said to me that the wrens were important to Druids. I have reason to believe that whatever she’s up to is somehow bound up with them.’
Chloe returns from outside bearing fresh bread, milk and cheese, which Issa and Ruth set to devouring. I remember something from my vision and ask our host: ‘Chloe, do you by any chance know of an island in Wales called Mona?’
‘Mona? It doesn’t sound like a Welsh name at all. Unless, perhaps you mean Ynys Mon over the Menai Strait.’
‘Menai! Yes. That was in my dream.’
‘What a strange gent you are to go chasing after dreams. The Menai Strait is what separates Wales from Anglesey. That’s how you call Ynys Mon in English. It’s a terribly well-known place.’
‘Where is Anglesey, love?’ Says Issa in between mouthfuls of cheese.
‘Anglesey is in the northwest of Wales. You really can’t miss it. I should think it would make a very nice holiday destination if that’s your purpose. Beautiful in summertime. Here, Issa, you’ve got the appetite of a champion. I’ll fetch you some more bread.’
‘Thank you,’ coughs Issa through a slug of milk. ‘So that’s your answer, ay, Weed? To Anglesey is it? Have you much of an idea what we’ll see once we get there? Other than a lot of wrens, I mean.’
‘Malina’s going to be there. I feel sure of it.’ Ruth spits the name.
‘Little one. Don’t you trouble your head about it. I’ll make sure that you’re safe and sound.’ Issa tears off a hunk of bread and shares it with the little girl.
‘Thank you, Issa. Perhaps I should carry this bread around in my pocket, then you’ll be sure to protect me.’
Weed: The Poison Diaries Page 22
