Moritasgus gave a feast in their honour, slaughtering a bullock, which wasroasted over a huge fire. Jugs of ale were consumed and the music of the Pritani filled the night air. Brude danced with Mairead then sat with her at Moritasgus’ side, feeling as content as he had done for a long time. Castatin drank too much beer and fell asleep in the open air, much to everyone’s amusement.
They all slept late the next day and there were sore heads all round when they did eventually rouse themselves. Now Brude was anxious to be on their way so they gathered their horses, packed their belongings and prepared to set off across the hills to where the carriage had been hidden. The day brought a promise of an early spring, despite the chill in the wind.
They were nearly ready to depart when word came that a stranger was approaching, riding on horseback. They looked to the trackway and Brude’s face broke into a huge smile as Cleon, looking around with distaste at the grubby surroundings of the Brigante village, rode slowly towards him.
It took only a few days to reach the Wall. They travelled slowly but in good spirits. Most of their time was spent trying to teach Cleon how to speak the Boresti language. He endured their laughter in good spirits. “I am glad you came,” Brude told him. “We have little to offer you except our friendship, though.”
“After a lifetime in Rome, that is more than enough,” Cleon assured him. “In a strange way, I am looking forward to it.”
Cleon had brought more than just himself. The news he had heard before leaving Eboracum was that Caracalla had made peace with both the Maeatae and the Caledonii and the Roman troops were all back south of the Wall. Veleda’s desperate plan had worked after all. Now the two co-emperors and their mother were on their way back to Rome, taking most of the army with them. “Good riddance to them,” Fothair said with feeling.
They approached the Wall near its eastern end and were allowed through without question when Brude and Cleon, both dressed in fine clothes and wearing the gold rings of Roman knights, produced a paper bearing the seal of Caracalla authorising their journey to the lands of the Votadini on a diplomatic mission. The document looked authentic thanks to Cleon’s skill with a pen and Fothair’s carving of a replica of Caracalla’s seal. It was good enough to see them through the Wall. With the others acting the part of their slaves, they rode through the fort and out of the gates. They headed northwards, beyond the borders of the empire.
Sitting atop the carriage beside Brude, Mairead leaned close to him. “Do you think there will be anything left of Broch Tava?” she asked. “I am worried that the people had to spend all winter in the woods.”
Brude had been worried about the same thing. “Caroc is a good man. If anyone could bring them through it, he could. As long as some people survived, the Boresti still live.”
Mairead snuggled close to him. Up ahead, Castatin was riding a horse, no doubt pretending he was a mighty warrior, leading the way for them. In the carriage, Barabal was nursing a sleeping Seasaidh while Fothair was trying to explain to Cleon the Boresti names for the various kinds of trees they were passing. From the sounds of things, the exercise was having mixed success.
Brude flicked the reins. “Let’s go a bit faster. I want to get home.”
END
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In the Shadow of the Wall Page 46
