The Blood of the Iutes: The Song of Octa Book 1 (The Song of Britain 4)

by James Calbraith

  “Staying so long with Fastidius poisoned your mind,” he says. “You’ve grown too fond of Rome — or rather, what Rome imagines herself to be. You’ve become susceptible to her lies.”

  “Why are you so bitter, Father? You were a Roman yourself, once. You’ve lived in a villa, among old books, among the remains of civilisation. You told me once how sad you were to see the old glory perish in war and flames. And now this very civilisation is pleading to be saved, and you would do nothing?”

  “Do you not remember what the men who called themselves ‘Romans’ did to your home village? To your family? To my… to Rhedwyn? Yes, I saw the glimpse of the old glory when I was your age… But I have also seen what it’s become in my lifetime. There is nothing left worth saving.”

  “Maybe not here, in Britannia, but in Gaul there must still be…”

  “Enough,” he says. “I don’t want to hear about this anymore. If you want to make yourself useful, go help Betula with those pirates she captured.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Turns out, they’re not Northerners. It looks like they came from the Continent, maybe from the flooded islands north of Frankia. And they came here for the slaves captured by Haesta’s raiders. A proper little business enterprise.” He rubs his tired eyes. “I thought Meroweg was supposed to take care of those bastards…”

  “You know who could help us with the pirates… A Roman fleet.”

  “Gods, give me strength.” He raises his hands and eyes to the hall’s ceiling. “If you don’t —”

  There is commotion outside; animals braying and people shouting in wonder rather than fear. Father walks to the door. He stands in the frame and looks outside in silence. My father’s house in Robriwis overlooks the harbour on the Medu River and a stretch of the shore reaching all the way to the Tamesa’s estuary.

  “When did you say this Aegidius was going to come here?” my father asks.

  “I’m not sure… He said soon. Why?”

  “Because there’s a damn liburna standing at anchor on my doorstep.”

  “Why are we doing this, again?” asks Ursula.

  We’re crouching in the shadow of the wall of the Robriwis fortress, where it crumbles down to meet the river. In the distance, the liburna’s position is marked by two lanterns, one aft and one on the bow. The fishing boats are strung out on the beach among the drying nets. One of them should be enough to transport all five of us to the Roman ship, if we’re not caught — and there’s nobody around to catch us. With the warship at anchor so near, a pirate raid is out of the question, so there’s no need for shore patrols, and all the fortress guards are busy tonight, protecting the mead hall where Aegidius is presenting his plea before my father’s court.

  I was there in the beginning. To my father’s increasing annoyance, Aegidius spoke more about the need for warriors than of the naval harbour. I thought I’d try to break my father’s resistance again. Surely, I repeated my earlier appeal, if Rome needed our help, and was willing to reward us for it generously, we should give her what she asked for, for civilisation’s sake? But that only made him grow more furious.

  “Reward? Let Aegidius tell you how Rome rewarded her allies after Maurica. If they hadn’t betrayed the Goths and the Burgundians, they wouldn’t need our help against them now.”

  With a soured face, Aegidius tried to explain that whatever happened at Maurica, where an alliance of Rome and barbarian tribes defeated the Hun army — neither of them got into the details of what they were talking about, and everyone except the two of them looked as puzzled as I was — had nothing to do with the new Imperator and his government, but my father would hear nothing of it.

  “I admit, I was willing to hear you out regarding the harbour,” he told the Roman envoy. “It was a harmless enough request. But you had to get greedy. You had the audacity to come here asking for men. You’d think taking all the Legions would have been enough, but no — Rome is an insatiable maw which digests uncounted peoples and then spits them out. It serves her right if she chokes once in a while.”

  To that, Aegidius could only apologise, bent in half in a deep bow, and withdraw his request for troops. Placated somewhat, my father agreed to resume discussing the needs of the Roman navy, but anyone who knew him could see he wasn’t going to agree to anything. I wondered, was he in fact secretly enjoying talking to Aegidius? The Roman spoke in an old-fashioned, literate manner that only I and Adminia understood fully. They exchanged quotes from the Ancients and from the Scripture, as equals in learning, and from time to time, when Aegidius found an accurate response to the king’s ancient quotation, I could see a rare glint of excitement in my father’s eyes. Still, he remained stubbornly opposed to changing his mind, and I soon grew bored of their increasingly incomprehensible conversation.

  That is when I decided to find my four friends and invite them to my little adventure.

  “How often do you get to see a Roman warship up close?” I say. “This is the first one in these waters in forty years.”

  “What do we do once we get there?” asks Audulf.

  “Just look about. Check out that siege weapon on the bow… It would be great if I could show you Aegidius’s cabin. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

  “Aren’t there guards? Won’t we get caught?” asks Bana.

  I shrug. “So what? I’m the king’s son. I’ll just tell them my father sent me.”

  “Then why can’t we just go there by day?”

  “It’s more fun this way.”

  We rush to the boat and push it into the sea, careful not to make too big a splash. It’s a moonless, clouded night, and except for the lanterns on the liburna, the only other lights are coming from within the fortress and the hall. Audulf and I, the best rowers in the group, take to the oars, while the others make themselves as invisible in the shadows as they can. It doesn’t take us long to reach the warship. I slow us down, so that our boat meets the ship’s side with only the gentlest of bumps. I grab a thick rope running the length of the ship between the first and the second row of oars and hold onto it until we’re certain that no guard heard our arrival.

  There are enough holding points on the ship’s side — ropes, protruding boards, a decorative eye carved in oak — for us to climb to the deck with little trouble. The stern of the ship is raised and fortified with a wooden rampart; this is where the passenger cabins are. The rampart is empty and quiet today since all the Roman officials are at the mead hall meeting.

  I spot a watchman, in sky-blue uniform, no more than twenty feet away. I gesture at the others to duck in the shadow of the rampart. I count only four guards on the main deck. The ship doesn’t appear fully manned; some of the crew must have remained in Londin for the duration of this brief journey. The sails are furled and lashed to the masts, which means the ship is moving only by the power of the oars, so there’s no need for as many mariners on board as during a true ocean crossing.

  “There must be fifty men sleeping underneath our feet,” I whisper to the others.

  “Slaves?” asks Gille.

  “I don’t think so,” I reply. “Free men are more reliable.”

  We wait for the watchman to move to the other side of the ship and tiptoe along the line of red-painted shields towards the stern. I expect the ballista to be closely guarded, since it’s the most valuable thing on the ship outside Aegidius’s cabin — but there’s only one soldier there, leaning on a spear and staring at the sea, with his back to us. A lantern of polished horn hangs off the end of his spear.

  The weapon is almost as big as the ones standing on Londin’s Wall. At its feet lies a stack of bolts, each as thick as my arm, a heap of stone rounds, and a large black cauldron, tightly closed, which I’m guessing contains pitch for lighting the missiles on fire. The power contained within the ballista’s sinews is terrifying. One shot from it could tear right through a ceol or blow my father’s mead hall into pieces. What need would an Empire wielding such power have for a
handful of barbarian warriors?

  I want to sneak closer to examine the weapon’s mechanism. Ursula tugs on my sleeve. “Careful,” she hisses a whisper. I tear my arm out of her grip, and stumble; I trip over a rope and tumble into the pile of bolts.

  “Hey!” the guard turns. “Who goes there?”

  He raises the lantern. In the shadows, he can’t quite tell who we are. “Pirates!” he shouts and raises the alarm.

  “We’re not pirates,” I tell him in Imperial Tongue. I come out into the light, hands outstretched. “I’m the king’s —”

  The guard lets out a panicked grunt. He grabs the spear with both hands, whirls it and strikes me on the head with its iron-tipped butt.

  A splash of cold, stinking water brings me back. I squint while my eyes adjust to the surroundings; it’s already day, judging by the light coming in from the hatch above my head. I look around — I’m the last of our group to wake. We’re in the ship’s hold, thrown among crates and amphorae, with our hands tied behind our backs. The soldier who poured the water on me now stands by the hatch ladder, helping a man in rich clothes descend from the deck above.

  Aegidius stares at us for a second, before issuing a curt order: “By Lord’s wounds, man, release them!” The soldier’s pugio cuts through the binds. I rub my wrist and notice something odd about our surroundings. The ship is rolling from side to side, much more noticeably than when it was at anchor.

  “We’re at sea!” I say.

  “Yes, my apologies,” replies Aegidius. “I’m afraid the negotiations with your father took longer than I planned and I had to leave in a hurry in the morning. The captain only remembered to tell me about you when we were already well on our way…”

  “You’ve abducted the king’s son!” exclaims Audulf. He jumps up with fists clenched. The soldier reaches for the sword. “Do you want a war with the Iutes?”

  “Calm down, boy,” says Aegidius. “We’re only going to Londin. I’m sure you’ll be able to find your way home from there. I’ll leave you a few coins for the journey back.”

  “No,” I say. It is a sudden thought, but it’s clear like a crystal goblet. Seeing the liburna up close made me realise something that until now was only a faint, lingering thought: I was just as bored with life in Cantia as my father before me. Maybe, if I had lived all my life in my parents’ village, I’d be satisfied with following the king’s court around the villages. But I have tasted a life in Londin, and I yearn for more. I could never afford to live in the capital on my own, and I know there is no other place like it in Britannia. But there is a whole other world outside, a world which my father never got to see, other than a few official visits to Frankia and Armorica. A world I’ve only read about until now; a world of war and chaos, of entire tribes and nations marching against each other, of godlike Imperators vying in titanic struggles, sending armies of thousands to perish in the flames of countless battles. A world where a simple barbarian soldier could become a king-maker, where a youth like me could prove his worth in a myriad different ways, if only he put his mind and muscle to it. And while it is my father’s duty to stay with the Iutes in Cantia — I am free to do what I want, and go wherever I wish.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Take me with you,” I say firmly. “Take me to Gaul.”

  Aegidius laughs nervously. “I admire your enthusiasm, but I fear your Frankish companion is right — that would jeopardise everything I’ve agreed to with your father.”

  “You convinced him?” I ask, astonished.

  “A mere preliminary agreement, but it sounds promising. I was as surprised as you are. I think he waited until everyone else got bored or fell asleep… In the end, when there were just the two of us awake at the table, he changed his entire demeanour. I got the feeling he does want to help the Empire, even if he doesn’t yet know it himself… Of course, you’ll find out all the details as soon as you return —”

  “I’m not going back,” I say. “And the king can’t do anything about it. A long time ago, we made a deal. He would never order me to do or not to do anything against my will. My fate is mine alone to decide. He already agreed I could go live in Londin — he won’t care that I have changed the destination. Trust me, he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  Aegidius scratches his head. “I was hoping to bring back a troop of seasoned warriors,” he says, “swordsmen and shieldsmen for which the barbarians of these islands are so renowned. Not one brash youngling with a knife in his boot.”

  “My mother made this knife,” I tell him. “And I can handle myself with a sword and shield just fine, if your men have any to spare. Why not think of me as my father’s envoy? Maybe I could persuade him to send you more help if I saw with my own eyes what’s happening in Gaul.”

  “You make a convincing point — and one I see no reason to argue with. There’s plenty of space on the ship, though I’d expect you to do your share of deck duties.” He points to the others. “But what of them?” he asks. “Shall I at least send your companions back?”

  “I don’t expect any of you to follow me,” I say, turning back to my friends. “I already got you into more trouble than I expected. We were only supposed to see the ship, and now…”

  “How often do you get to see Gaul?” Ursula mocks me with a chuckle. “Sailing across the Narrow Sea sounds like a much better adventure than anything you’ve ever come up with until now. And I’m sure my mother will send a ship for me when I decide I’ve had enough.”

  “I will go wherever Octa goes,” says Audulf, standing beside me. “If you’re certain that this is what you want.”

  Ursula joins him at my other side, as does, reluctantly, Gille.

  I look to Bana. The Saxon boy retreats into the shadow.

  “Come on, Bana,” says Ursula. “We’re not going to leave you here.”

  “No, wait,” I say, stopping her. “Don’t force him.”

  “My parents…” Bana stutters, “…they need me in the workshop…”

  “I understand,” I tell him. “It’s fine, Bana. I’d hate to push you into doing something you don’t want to do. Besides, I need someone to take a message to my father…”

  Aegidius tells us that the harbour town at which we stop for the first night of our journey is called Epatiac. It was once one of the home ports of the Gaulish navy; like Dubris on the other side of the Narrow Sea, it’s now just a small market town with a few piers large enough to accommodate the liburna and a handful of merchant ships. But unlike at Dubris, and almost any other small town in Britannia, its stone buildings still stand tall, the grid of its streets is still perfectly readable, and there’s a crowd of traders and buyers at the market. A flame tower in the harbour belches a thick column of smoke to guide even more ships to the waterfront.

  I already feel I’ve made a good decision.

  “Can we really stay here?” I ask Aegidius. “I thought Gaul was occupied by your enemies.”

  “This is a frontier backwater. Frankia’s border is less than a day’s march away. Agrippinus’s hand doesn’t reach this far. By the time he learns of our visit, we’ll be safe in Iberia.”

  “Then why not use this place for your navy’s needs? It looks like it’s in much better shape than any port in Britannia.”

  “We can sneak past with one warship. An entire fleet is a different matter. Besides, we need to secure the surrounding land for supplies, a pool of skilled, friendly men to replenish the lost sailors…”

  “Then the Councillors were right. You would like a colony.”

  He winces. “It’s a little bit more complicated than that. Anyway, I’ve got things to do here, people to meet — why don’t you and your friends go to the market?” he says, keen to change the subject. “There are things even here that you can’t buy anywhere on your far-flung island.”

  “I don’t have any money. This is all I’ve got on me,” I say, pointing to the clothes in which I was captured.

  He reaches into the chest in the corner of th
e cabin and pulls out a small cloth sack. He throws it at me. It jingles heavily.

  “I was going to try to bribe your father with this, if I deemed him susceptible to that sort of thing,” he says. “But he was too honourable. I might as well give it to you.”

  I untie the purse and look inside. There are a few silver coins among the bronze, and a single gold one.

  “It’s good you didn’t try,” I say. I feel my cheeks grow red. I feel insulted on behalf of my father. “He’d have thrown it back in your face. He carries more gold on his person than there is in this sack.”

  “I may have misjudged both of you,” he replies, chuckling. “You must forgive me, young Octa. We don’t get much news from your island. According to the scribes and chroniclers, Britannia outside Londin is all but lost to a barbaric darkness.”

  “Maybe in Aelle’s land, or in the North,” I reply with a wry smile and, making sure my Latin accent doesn’t slip, I add, proudly: “We Iutes are a civilised people.”

  At first, I notice nothing unusual about the market at Epatiac, other than how busy it is. The first few stalls sell the kinds of goods one would normally find at a market in Dorowern: farm produce, pots, bread. There’s a slightly greater variety of food, and the pots are of a better quality, as far as I can tell, but this is to be expected in a busy harbour town. The first novelty I spot is a wine seller, pouring his product from a great amphora straight into the flasks of his customers. In Britannia, wine only appeared on the tables of the nobles; the poor drink ale and milk, and the warriors have their mead. Here, it seems, it’s a drink enjoyed by rich and poor alike.

  But as we enter deeper, I notice that not only do the goods on sale change, so does the entire market. The merchants wear finer clothes, the stalls are more richly furnished and further apart, and each is guarded by a warrior or two. The stands form a grid of broad avenues, all meeting at a raised platform at the centre.

  Every stall sells some kind of weapon or armour. Axes, spearheads, swords in all sorts of styles and shapes. There are Frankish flying axes, Frisian spears, angon javelins, twice-curved bows of the horse archers; there are seaxes and spathas, and a variety of other blades I’m not familiar with. There’s one stand that sells only metal bosses for shields, and another with arrowheads and lead slingshot missiles.