“The Romans aren’t fools,” Caratacus cautioned. “Their engineers will spot the flood areas right away. They’ll pile timber high and build a brushwood road above the water level. Then they’ll throw pontoons across the river.”
“Let them,” Fergus snarled. “We’ll shower spears and slingstones on their pig-sticking heads!”
“Listen to me, if they can’t swim it, they’ll bridge the river. If they can’t bridge it, they’ll dam it, or by the gods they’ll change its course and walk across dry land. Never underestimate the Romans.” Caratacus glanced away.
For a moment they all remained silent. In the distance, the sound of the river resonated along the canyon walls, women chattered while rinsing clothing by the shore. The baying of sheep radiated across the stream.
Venutios wiped the perspiration from his scarred face with a calloused hand and squinted in the glaring sunlight towards the fortress and then Caratacus. “What plans have you made in case we have to retreat?”
“Retreat? Are you mad!” Fergus narrowed his raven eyes and threw up his gigantic hands. “They don’t have enough troops. The Silurians are tying down half their army.”
“It’s the other half that concerns me,” Caratacus said. “Venutios is right. We must always prepare for disaster. I’ve made alternative plans, and you’ll know before we fight.”
“Don’t forget, Fergus,” Venutios said, “they have twenty thousand troops to throw at us.”
“Regardless, the reports I have received from the Druids say that Roman forces have been thinned out,” Caratacus said. “Between our raids and those of the Silurians, the Romans have been forced to build small watch forts every twenty miles within their lines. It has been a drain on their manpower and supplies. But it still leaves about fifteen thousand that we will have to deal with. We wait here. The Romans will come to us.”
Venutios’s eyes flicked to the river crossing and back to Caratacus. “For once they’ll fight on our terms.”
Caratacus nodded, pleased that Venutios grasped his plan.
Mounting their horses, the group headed to the fortress.
*
As the king and his retinue returned to Caersws, Caratacus reflected on what Fergus had said about Brath, the Silurian king. True, he had kept his promise. The Romans had paid dearly for every step they advanced in the Great Forest. Brath and his men continued to keep the Twentieth Legion at bay, allowing Caratacus to retreat northward after staying the autumn and winter in the Valley of Mwr. Despite Caratacus’s ongoing raids against the Romans and the reinforcements he had received from some of the tribes bordering the Ordovices and Silurians, as well as foreign mercenaries, the men available to him had diminished as the number of Romans increased.
And the situation had worsened. Besides the Twentieth Legion, he’d received word General Scapula was leading the Fourteenth Legion Gemina northeastward from its southern base at Isca to attack him and his Ordovician allies. The Romans drew closer every day, and his warriors clashed with their cavalry patrols. Soon he must begin battle or risk being cornered.
*
Other problems had to be dealt with before the Romans arrived. They weren’t Caratacus’s only enemy. His own people presented an even greater problem. Although he had put a score of his men to death for crimes committed in their midst, the hatred and animosity among the allied tribes lay just below the surface.
By moving to the land of the Ordovices, Caratacus stopped the Silurian tribe in the south and the Ordovices to the north from warring against one another. The Ordovician king considered him a hero and invited Caratacus to move his forces to his lands. He became a buffer between the two tribes and joined them with his hodgepodge of the southern and eastern tribes fighting against the Romans—at least for now. He had no illusions. If the Romans were defeated and forced eastward, within a year the tribes would again be at each other’s throats.
When Caratacus and his entourage rode up the gentle gradient, they met a hunting party returning from the surrounding hillsides. Feral mountain sheep, their long, spiral horns scraping the rocky ground, hung from forty hardwood poles and were each carried by two struggling warriors. Strings of otters and badgers dangled from saddles, and goatskin bags full of thrushes and redwinged kites were dragged along by the footmen. There would be feasting tonight.
Caratacus signaled for his entourage to halt. “Let them pass,” he said. “It’s more important to get the game home, cooked, and smoked before it spoils. Especially in this heat.” He pointed to the swarm of buzzing flies. “We don’t eat rotten meat.”
*
The king spotted Dana and Macha picking rock flowers near the fort’s main gate. He found the broadleaf flowers most unusual. Caratacus hadn’t seen them in any other part of Britannia except the Ordovician lands. Dana and Macha waved, and he did the same.
He grinned and turned back to his men. “Go on ahead,” Caratacus said, “I’ll join you later.”
After dismounting, he led his horse by the reins and approached his smiling wife and giggling, freckle-faced daughter. Both wore matching yellow and green plaid, ankle-length tunics girdled at the waist by a scarlet, cloth belt. Like her mother and father, Macha wore a gold torc around her neck and bracelets on her upper arms.
“Look, Da!” Macha exclaimed as she shoved the strawberry-like plant his way. “Smell it.”
Caratacus bent forward, carefully wrapping a sun-chapped hand around the long stem. He drew the rose-white flower to his nose and loudly inhaled its sweet fragrance. “Uum, that smells so good!”
Macha giggled again. “Oh, Da. Don’t be so noisy,” she said in the most dignified voice she could muster. “I’m a big girl now, almost eight. That’s for children.” The afternoon light burnished her sunset hair as she turned. It glistened as if it were on fire.
Surprised by her remarks, he chuckled, “Of course, my little fox, you’re right. You’re a big help to Mum. But I thank you all the same.” He placed the flower back into her little, soiled hands, stooped, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You’re very thoughtful.” A dimpled smile came to Macha’s freckled face, and she turned and scurried away to pick more flowers.
“It’s nice to see you smiling for once,” Dana remarked. “It’s been a long time.”
“There hasn’t been much to smile about lately, but today it is different.”
“Then the wall inspection was a success?”
“Aye, it’s solid. We’ll hold. Tonight we celebrate.”
As they approached the fortress gate, a blissful smile returned to Dana’s suntanned face. Caratacus took her hand in his.
*
On an early afternoon, three days later, Fiona and her contingent of warriors, both men and women, returned from their journey to Eburacum. She had been sent there by Caratacus to again request Queen Cartimandua to send her army to aid in his fight against the Romans. With the addition of those warriors, Caratacus was certain he could halt the Roman advance once and for all.
Fiona was now captain of Caratacus’s warrior women contingent and commanded a company of male fighters as well. She had also been placed in charge of a band of archers made up primarily of foreigners from as far away as Germania and Scandia. One would have never guessed that when Fiona was recruited by Rhian for her contingent of warrior women, years before, she had been a shy and timid farm girl. It was only after she had reluctantly slain Rhian, who had been raped and badly wounded by the Batavians, that she had become a hardened veteran. Thereafter, Fiona proved herself worthy in several skirmishes and raids and gained Caratacus’s trust.
Caratacus had been informed by a warrior guarding the front entrance to the Great Hall that Fiona had arrived and was waiting outside.
“Tell her to enter and proceed to the dais where my councilors and I await,” Caratacus said. He turned and nodded to Fergus ap Roycal, Venutios, and Owen, the Druid who sat to his right. He stood behind and to one side of Caratacus’s throne on the dais. Fergus sat to the king’s right, wh
ile Venutios was to his left.
The king watched as Fiona entered the stifling building, passing dozens of soldiers, whose unwashed bodies filled the interior with a sour smell. Although the side doors and flaps had been opened to allow in the sunlight, it did little to alleviate the heat and stench.
The young woman, wearing a dusty, tartan tunic and trousers, halted before the king and planted her feet on the straw-covered floor. She bowed slightly to Caratacus and his advisors.
While she stood waiting for permission to speak, Caratacus studied Fiona. Besides her clothing, she wore her chestnut hair in a single braid that cascaded down her back between the shoulder blades. A thin scar sliced downward left to right across the forehead of Fiona’s sunburnt face to the bridge of her buttoned nose. Numerous thin scars could be seen on the young woman’s exposed lower arms. Fiona’s small teeth remained a polished white. She used a forearm to wipe the sweat from her face. She carried a longsword held in a baldric that crossed from her right shoulder down to the left side of the waist. A dagger, enclosed in a leather scabbard, hung from a belt at the right side.
Caratacus motioned to Fiona. “Tell us your news, Captain.”
“The journey to Eburacum lasted ten days, lord,” Fiona said. “Had it not been for the Roman patrols, my warriors and I would have arrived in seven.”
“I understand,” Caratacus said. “And your audience with the queen?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “After waiting for many hours in a dingy back room, I was greeted by Queen Cartimandua’s arch-Druid who led me into the Great Hall.”
Fiona had explained that no others were present except herself, Cartimandua, the Druid, and her shield bearers, who stood at a discreet distance. Her icy-blue eyes silently studied Fiona from where she sat on the shoulder-high throne. Fiona boldly returned her stare, knowing the queen was attempting to make her feel uncomfortable, yet Fiona held her tongue until addressed.
Now Fiona hesitated, but Caratacus gestured with a hand for her to continue.
“She asked me why you, lord, had not sent her word of my pending visit?”
“I wanted to learn what kind of reception you would receive,” Caratacus said.
Fiona raised an eyebrow as she stared at Caratacus. She lowered her eyelids. “Pardon me, lord, did you believe I would have been taken captive?”
Caratacus scowled. You are impertinent, but your question is valid. “If I had thought that, I would not have sent you. Continue.”
“The queen said, ‘This is most unexpected.’ When she motioned me a few steps closer to her throne, I explained that there were too many Roman spies about the lands, and had the Romans known of my journey, I would have been captured and tortured. The queen replied you could have sent a courier with a secret message. I answered that couriers can be tortured to confess. Even if they had gotten through, a spy in her midst would have learned who I was and where I came from. Naturally, she denied harboring spies.”
Caratacus snorted. “Which means she does.”
“I said neither you nor I were accusing the queen.” Fiona gestured with a hand. “I looked at the queen and suggested there may be one, a trader perhaps, who had used his oily tongue to wriggle his way into her midst.”
“The queen probably didn’t take kindly to that,” Caratacus said. He looked to his chieftains and the Druid. They nodded.
“Cartimandua told me that I should consider myself fortunate that she consented to a private audience on such short notice,” Fiona said. “With all the humility I could muster, I said I was very grateful. The queen informed me it was only because I represented you, lord, that she received me. I touched the gold torc wrapped around my neck as in a blessing and answered, ‘Teutates forbid that I mean you any harm, I swear on my sacred oath as a captain in Caratacus’s army.’”
“You were wise to swear your allegiance to me in front of the queen,” Caratacus said.
The council and Owen murmured in affirmation.
“I would have no matter the situation, lord, you are my king.” Fiona bowed her head. “But Cartimandua gave me a look that could have scorched meat and said oaths were easily broken. I quickly answered that the queen was a great power in her own right. At first, she didn’t respond. She sat there staring at me, and then an evil smile formed on her full lips, and she tossed her head back and laughed.”
Caratacus raised an eyebrow. “Laughed?”
For the length of a couple of heartbeats, Fiona swayed on her feet. “Yes, she said, ‘Isn’t this absurd?’”
Caratacus raised a hand and jabbed it in Fiona’s direction. “What was absurd?”
“It was something that alarmed me. She said, ‘Do you realize we are the two most powerful women in all Britannia?’”
“She what?” Caratacus shook his head.
“This is a ploy,” Venutios said. “I know the scheming bitch all too well. She wants all power to herself. She was saying that to flatter you, Fiona.”
Unless we stop the Romans, they will control all of us. He raised his hand toward Venutios and turned to Fiona. “Proceed.”
“Forgive me, lords, those are her words,” Fiona said. “I was shocked to be included. I said, ‘Great Queen, I don’t understand. I am only a warrior. If there is another powerful woman, it is Dana, wife of Caratacus.’”
Caratacus nodded. “Dana may not agree with you, but she is in her own right. What else did Cartimandua say?”
Fiona wrapped her fingers around the handle of her dagger. “She laughed and said some terrible things about your wife, lord.” The young woman hesitated. “I would rather not repeat them. I have heard how much Queen Cartimandua despises Dana, but I was still shocked by her obvious hatred.”
Caratacus clenched his teeth. “You don’t need to repeat what she said, I can guess.” Am I wrong to think Cartimandua will ever come to our aid? She hasn’t so far. “Continue.”
“She said I was a captain and a leader in Caratacus’s army. My warriors listened to me, men and women. I explained that I only led the women, and they were few.”
“We both know that isn’t the truth, you lead many warriors, male and female,” Caratacus said.
The chieftains and Owen nodded in agreement.
“Yes, lord, but I didn’t want her to know that.”
“Wise, indeed. Proceed.”
“The queen said I underestimated my abilities. She reminded me of my escape from the Romans and that I had replaced Queen Rhian as a leader. Her sources told her that I had fought bravely since that time. Cartimandua knew about the raids I led.”
“The queen is right. You are a much stronger warrior than you may believe.”
Fiona shrugged. “I asked her if we should not work together for the good of our people. That was why I came. The queen said she always worked for the welfare of her subjects. Begging your pardon, lord, but I don’t believe the queen works for anyone’s good except her own.”
“You are right, but we still need her alliance if we are to defeat the Romans.”
“The queen asked why I was there to see her. Before I could answer, I caught her staring at my breast.” Fiona blushed. “I said I brought her a vision, but her gaze made me feel uncomfortable.”
“Cartimandua has been known to have female lovers—it’s unfortunate you were put in such a position,” Caratacus said. “Did you tell her of the false vision?”
Caratacus had contrived the vision to measure the queen’s sincerity to aid his cause.
Fiona explained Cartimandua seemed skeptical that Caratacus would send a warrior all the way to Eburacum just to share a vision. The young woman answered that Caratacus trusted no one as much as her, not even a Druid. He had a dream in which he went to see the queen even though he was in danger from her. When Fiona finished, the queen told Fiona she was upset that he believed the danger came from her and surely that Caratacus didn’t believe it. Fiona said if that were true, Caratacus would not have sent her on such a far journey.
“She asked
how could she know this wasn’t a spell—sorcery?” Fiona said. “Why hadn’t you sent a Druid to interpret the dream? I explained it wasn’t sorcery, and that you, my King, knew how she hated it. I said that you believed yourself in danger.”
Fiona said Cartimandua’s eyes had narrowed, a sneer formed on her lips, and she demanded proof. Fiona explained that Caratacus asked that the queen use her own Druids to interpret the dream to see if he was telling the truth.
“What was Cartimandua’s response?”
“She sat silent as if hesitating before answering, ‘If what you say is true, then this is indeed serious.’ Cartimandua glanced to the bored, young shield bearer standing closest to her.”
Fiona looked at Caratacus. “I must admit, Great King, that I prayed that her chief Druid would believe the vision. I’m sure my lord remembers the report we received about the queen’s favorite consort, the shield bearer who had attended the feast for the Roman, Porcius, on his last visit. One day after her Druid foretold that he was in danger, the warrior died. He fell from a horse while hunting and died of a broken neck.”
“Did the Druid believe the vision?”
“He did,” Fiona said. “The queen summoned her Druid, and I explained the dream to him. He concurred that you were in danger but not from Cartimandua. He could not tell where the danger came from. That’s when Cartimandua assured me she would do everything in her power to help you. She will send warriors to your aid when the time is right.”
“She has said that before,” Caratacus said.
“That is all the queen would tell me. She stood, approached, and slowly moved around to my back. She said, ‘I … we … do not want anything to befall him.’
“This was embarrassing, but the queen pressed her form gently against my backside, and, feeling no resistance, cupped both my breasts, and with a moist tongue kissed the nape of my neck. I closed my eyes, in fear of what would follow.
The Wolf of Britannia Part II Page 18
