Beasts Beyond the Wall

by Beasts Beyond the Wall (retail) (epub)

  ‘What of Dog?’ Sib asked, harsh with impatience. ‘Colm.’

  She looked him up and down. ‘You burn without thought,’ she said scornfully. ‘It shows in your skin.’

  He fell silent, smouldering. She took a slurp from her cup and wiped her skin-marked chin.

  ‘Colm’s mother was a woman of power with a war chief who acted at her command. The Romans took her. They took many and not all were snatched in raids.’

  Her voice grew bitter. ‘There were those of our own who traded honour for power.’

  ‘They sold your queens and stepped onto their thrones,’ Quintus clarified. He grinned. ‘Matters here are not so different than in Rome.’

  ‘Even less than you believe,’ Verrecunda said. ‘Colm’s mother was handed to the Roman garrison. She took her babe with her – the Romans preferred it since it made her biddable. It was always what they did when they could. The ones who sold her like a slave preferred it, too – they did not want to kill younglings, yet they did not want kids growing up with teeth and claws.’

  Drust felt a cold slithering inside of him. This had been his own mother’s fate. And his…

  ‘How did you avoid this fate?’ Manius asked, and Verrecunda glanced blankly at him.

  ‘The Red Kites were no prize for anyone by then. Also, Necthan was loyal and not foolish – those who sold Colm’s mother and her son had little reward for it. The man who did it could not rule, so he was forced out and those who followed found no one would listen to them either. The old way runs deep and true, and without the line of women, no one has the right to rule. They have squabbled ever since.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Drust said quietly. ‘The Blue Faces did this. Colm’s mother was queen of the Blue Faces.’

  She made a gesture. ‘Queen is correct, yet not all of it. But, yes, it was the Blue Faces.’

  ‘Yet this woman, the one with the boy, is not of the Blue Faces?’

  Kag was sharp and Drust watched the woman to see the lie. There was one, but he could not tell what it was.

  ‘We are all sisters of the goddess,’ she replied. ‘Not by blood, but more.’

  ‘And this woman and her child?’ Drust asked. The woman nodded.

  ‘A poor creature. A Roman fleeing silken captivity for her own reasons.’

  ‘Touching,’ Manius growled, ‘but unhelpful.’

  ‘You are harsh,’ Ugo snapped and the snarl in it surprised everyone. He looked shamefacedly round the staring faces. ‘This sounds like me and my old ma.’

  Verrecunda squinted at him through the sudden swirl of grey-blue; the wind chugged the walls of the house, demanding entry and growing angry at refusal.

  ‘Yes. The same happens everywhere the Empire touches. Where are you from?’

  ‘The Germanies,’ Kag said and nudged Ugo. ‘I say this because otherwise he will spend long minutes telling you his line and exactly where his sorry-arsed village lay.’

  She nodded. ‘So it is and so it was.’

  ‘Colm’s mother died, then,’ Sib said. ‘And so Colm became Dog the slave. So far this explains nothing.’

  ‘He was bringing this woman and child here,’ Drust said slowly, seeing it form like a walking man in a mist. ‘Coming back to his own people.’

  She made a little head gesture, not looking at him.

  ‘What?’ Drust demanded. She shrugged.

  ‘He is a long way removed from them.’

  ‘Yet he is the son of a queen.’

  Kag flung up his hands. ‘Fuck Dog. Who are this woman and child?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘What has she to do with Dog?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘We have been led up an alley with the gleam of gold,’ Kag said bitterly to Drust. ‘Best we back out now before we have to take it up the arse.’

  Verrecunda unfolded stiffly and went to do something with spoons and dishes; Kag leaned in closer to Drust.

  ‘Brigus is a State informer. What is he doing here, asking this Verrecunda about a woman and child? You do not bother with that if they are just runaway slaves.’

  You do if the runaways are of great value, Drust mused. Though he had to admit he could not see why a woman and boy would be of great enough value to justify the costs involved in getting them back. There was more to it, but he could not see clearly. What he did see was that the woman and boy were not prisoners; they were hiding. She is a slave, Julius Yahya had said. Do not believe anything else she tells you…

  ‘We came as rescuers,’ Kag said, frowning. ‘Now it seems we are to be the thieves.’

  Verrecunda came back and squatted, stared at the flames and saying nothing.

  ‘What more is there in this?’ Drust asked, and she dragged her gaze from the fire and looked at him, blood-dyed by flames.

  ‘What more is there? A woman is here with her son, protected by Colm and all the warriors of the Blue Faces. Talk to Colm. Talk to the Blue Faces.’

  ‘Is she a slave?’ demanded Sib. ‘Or a queen?’

  ‘A slave in Rome or a queen here,’ Kag interrupted softly and laughed. ‘Well, there is a dilemma. Mind you, the Divine Caesar once said he would rather be first in a Gaul village than second in Rome.’

  ‘The Divine Caesar became a god on the floor of the Forum,’ Quintus reminded him. ‘Assisted by the back-stabbings of all his friends. So maybe he was right.’

  ‘No matter,’ Drust said, seeing it clearly. ‘Dog wants her to be here. He brought her – is the boy his?’

  Verrecunda shrugged.

  ‘You do not seem concerned,’ Kag said softly. ‘What does Dog… Colm… get for this if not a wife and son? Does the boy have two heads?’

  Verrecunda looked sharply at him. ‘The boy is perfect. Colm of the Blue Faces is as hunted as they are.’

  ‘Have you seen this woman, then, that you know her son to be perfect?’ Manius asked, silken as a strangling ribbon. She stared fiercely back at him and could not hide the truth in her face. Drust laughed softly.

  ‘You have. You were the one who told Brigus, not the other way round,’ he said, and she dropped her gaze back to the flames. ‘You saw her and knew her for a foreigner. For a Roman. And more – why else would you believe Brigus would be interested?’

  ‘Do you see how well we fare?’ she asked. ‘How many sheep are penned up? The Blue Faces come every now and then and take some more and will do this until we starve.’

  They fell silent and she stared at the flames for a moment.

  ‘I told Brigus about the woman and he went to them, as he usually did. Traded. Came back this way and was excited – he gave more in gifts than he had before.’

  She paused. ‘Brigus did not come after that. I do not think he lives – but he must have reached the Walls and spoken with the Romans within, since here you are.’

  Another pause and now she stared straight into Drust’s face.

  ‘Colm Deathface knows someone will come.’

  ‘Deathface?’

  She nodded and waved to the old man. ‘He is a master of the marks of power,’ she said and there was pride in it. She stroked her chin. ‘These are to make my words sting or sweeten as I see fit.’

  ‘He makes skin marks,’ Kag said with delight and rounded on the old man. ‘Did you give Dog what he wanted? You remember, lads – the bastard always moaned about how he had missed out on the marks given for deeds done. Servilius Structus would never permit such blatant brands on the bodies of his slaves – just the discreet owner’s mark on knuckles.’

  ‘I remember,’ Drust replied. ‘What did Necthan do?’

  ‘Gave him the face of power,’ she said. ‘The face of death. You may see it soon enough.’

  ‘Not likely,’ Sib declared flatly. ‘This is too rotted to eat. We should leave.’

  ‘Good advice,’ Verrecunda added.

  ‘Arse,’ Kag said scornfully to Sib. ‘Did you think this would be a little walk in the cold and wet? A bit of a shouting match and maybe a prete
nd fight, like Drust’s contests?’

  ‘Ho,’ Drust said, annoyed, and Kag waved a hand. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I know what I heard—’

  ‘Enough,’ said Manius. ‘No woman, no reward. We were sent here – I would like to know who commanded it.’

  The woman shrugged. ‘You would know best. Who pays you when you return her?’

  No one spoke because Kalutis was Servilius Structus’s man and he would pass them on to Verus, who was Julius Yahya’s man, and Julius Yahya was someone else’s man…

  ‘What happened to this Brigus?’ Sib demanded, leaning threateningly forward; the old man growled a warning and Sib leaned back hastily. Kag grinned with delight and patted the old man as if he was a clever dog, ignoring the scowls he got for it.

  Verrecunda hesitated, then shrugged. ‘I will tell what I told Brigus. What sent him to the Blue Faces.’

  She stopped and looked round them all. ‘What got him disappeared,’ she added.

  ‘Speak on,’ demanded Ugo, scowling.

  ‘The name Julia,’ she said. They waited for more. She shrugged. ‘That was all of it.’

  A Roman name, Drust thought. The name of her mistress perhaps.

  ‘Or the one she was given as a slave,’ Quintus pointed out when Drust asked aloud. There was no more on it and it left them with more questions than answers – but most thought of Julia Domna, the Empress.

  ‘It is a common enough name,’ Kag growled, ‘even on the Palatine.’

  ‘There are too many women in this,’ Quintus declared with disgust, and Verrecunda tossed the lees of her wine to the fire and laughed.

  ‘More than you know. Look at your lives. You are all slaves, or were. You were all taken with your mothers, no?’

  They looked, one to the other, and Verrecunda saw the possibilities dawn on them. She nodded.

  ‘Just so. Somewhere, once, each of your mothers represented the goddess in a tribe beyond whatever Wall the Romans made in that land.’

  ‘Ha,’ Kag declared, but then his scorn dribbled out to silence and the gnaw of memories. All of them fought with the lees of their lives, wanting to wave it away and sickeningly aware of the truth in it.

  In the end, they were silently fighting to remember everything – anything – while the wind hurled itself to puff and bluster. In the end, they found they only had the ludus of Servilius Structus in common and that they all had been taken from their mothers, who had died.

  In the end, most of them came down to trying to remember what their mother’s face looked like.

  * * *

  The morning brought a sky which smouldered somewhere between the frontiers of grey and black. Kag did not like it after having gone to see to the mules, but Necthan merely laughed scornfully.

  They chewed new bread and contributed some salt cheese and a pot of brined olives that were still fresh enough to eat. There was an awkward silence until Ugo hawked, spat in the fire and turned to Drust.

  ‘This mothers business…’

  The groans pinched him shut. Kag spat an olive stone into the embers.

  ‘Gods above and below,’ he growled. ‘I have chewed on that bone all night. No more.’

  ‘If it is true, what the woman says,’ Quintus argued, grinning his big wide grin, ‘then we are all kings.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ Manius grunted, gathering up cloth and fur and weapons. He nodded to Drust, then the woman and went out. She did not ask why.

  ‘Are we kings, then, woman?’ Sib demanded and Verrecunda looked up from her wool work.

  ‘You are brothers,’ she said, smiling. ‘Even you, burned man. This Servilius Structus is your father, the only one you know.’

  ‘Gods forbid,’ Ugo growled. ‘I am no get of those loins.’

  The woman was right, of course, Drust thought. We were all taken from our mothers and ended up with him; the strangeness of it, of something that had been there and yet never been seen, ruffled him.

  ‘If you look deeper,’ Ugo said to them, ‘you will find Servilius Structus and our Emperor are known one to the other.’

  ‘They both come from Lepcis Magna,’ Sib agreed.

  ‘Perhaps Servilius Structus was his pimp when they were younger. The Palatine takes the mothers, he gets the kids. Fucker.’

  ‘Yet you call him by his full name,’ she said softly. ‘Every time.’

  No one had an answer that made him sound sensible, so they stayed silent and spat olive pits into the embers.

  ‘How far to where this woman is?’ Drust asked. ‘Will you guide us?’

  The woman shook her head. ‘It is a day if the weather holds fair. I will give you good landmarks to guide you, but neither I nor Necthan will go with you.’

  ‘Are they watching, then?’ Kag asked softly. The woman shrugged.

  ‘I do not know – I do not think so. But there is a chance they might see us if we get closer. Our life here is on an edge as it is. Besides – it is a fool’s task you have been put to. There is only death in it. These Romans are under the protection of Colm Deathface – the woman has a son and no desire to return from where she came. Is that not reason enough for leaving this be?’

  ‘Does Dog… Colm… know who we are?’

  Another shrug. ‘He knows folk will come. He has known that since the day he dragged himself here.’

  ‘Does this Roman woman know people come for her?’

  A pause, no more than an intake of breath, let Drust know that the next thing she said was a lie.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Will she be biddable and come when we ask?’ demanded Ugo. ‘I do not want to be struggling with an unwilling woman.’

  ‘I have heard you in the brothel,’ Quintus said. ‘You are no stranger to it.’

  ‘Ha,’ Ugo said.

  ‘Can Dog be a war chief?’ Sib asked, frowning. ‘I have heard you speak only of husbands.’

  ‘They are never husbands, only men taken as partners,’ she answered, but there was a brittle tension there. Aha, Drust thought, there is no queen of the Blue Faces and you have to be a bedmate to rule. There is probably some muscled leader already, unable to exert the power of kingship and needing no old queen’s get turning up to add drama.

  He might have said more aloud on it, but there was a rustle of black wind at the door and Manius was in their midst, bringing the chill of the outside – and worse.

  ‘Riders.’

  There was a noise like a covey of surprised birds as everyone leaped for weapons.

  ‘How many?’ demanded Drust.

  ‘A dozen. Perhaps more. On those little ponies, but they do not fight on them.’

  The woman made a grunt of disgust. ‘They are come for more sheep and mischief,’ she said, and her voice was tinged with fear. The oldster had a fistful of blade as ancient as he was and his beard bristled like a hog’s back. Kag grinned at him.

  ‘We could hide,’ Sib suggested hopefully. ‘In those other buildings.’

  ‘If they fetch sheep they will see the mules and gear,’ Drust pointed out, and everyone saw it, saw that there was no other way for it. Manius started for the door and stopped when Drust caught his sleeve.

  ‘No one gets away,’ he said. Manius nodded and flitted outside. The others followed, spilling right and left; Drust looked at Necthan and Verrecunda.

  ‘Greet them as normal,’ he told her. ‘Make no sign that anything is amiss.’

  He grinned at Necthan, though his top lip got stuck doing it. ‘Put that sticker down,’ he added in their tongue, ‘or you will scare them off.’

  Necthan growled and spat. ‘When I am dead they can take it from my grasp – if they can.’

  Drust stayed where he was, dry-mouthed in the shadows of the hut, listening to the riders come up and climb off. The voices were muted, but laughing. He heard Necthan growl and heard them spit warning noises back at him.

  Then the door was blocked with darkness and a figure came in, a big man swathed in furs and cloth, peering as his e
yes strained. He had nothing in his hands and came in rubbing them, looking around.

  For a moment Drust wondered if he should rush him, if he could make it and kill the man before he cried out. The man turned to go; Drust tensed – then the man paused, looked down, bent and came up with a cup. He sniffed it, looked round and bent again to come up with another.

  The wine cups, Drust thought. More than needed for a woman and an old man…

  The man turned to leave, starting to call out as he ducked out and began to climb the three steps of beaten earth stair. Just as he reached the entrance and started to talk, he flew back inside; someone laughed, thinking he had slipped and fallen, but Drust had pulled him backwards, having registered the thump of the arrow, like a fist on a door, and did not stop or loose his grip on the man’s ankle. He dragged the man down the steps in a series of skull crunches and let him go.

  The dazed man rolled over, blood on his forehead and the skin scraped off, right over a blue-black mark. An ink-marked axe, Drust thought, and saw a horse on his cheek, too – the man began to get up, flapping muzzily at the strangeness sticking out of his chest, but had the last vision of a dark figure with a gleaming light in one hand, then Drust’s blade slashed the sight from his eyes. A second stroke, accompanied by curses for the ineptness of the first, stole the life out of his throat.

  Blood reeked and spread. Drust pattered through it, up and out into the yard, where men danced and yelled and struggled and died. The snow-bright light scarred his eyes, but he saw Ugo circling his axe in beautiful loops while Sib skipped at his back, keeping men away from the big Frisian. Necthan was blowing and swinging, showing what he must have been like in youth; a dead man at his feet proved that he still had skills.

  Kag and Quintus were sword-paired and moving in fluid patterns, falling into the machine of it. Bodies sprawled in the red slush – six, Drust saw, one with an arrow. Seven down with the one I killed, he thought – not enough.

  These were sometime warriors and had not been expecting trouble like this. Two more went down, carved down at the ankles and stabbed in the face. The leader was easy to spot, a big man made bulkier by furs. He had a long spear and a small square shield, but the mark of his status was all in the war hat, a beaten steel affair with silly coppered bull horns sticking from it.