Bellicus opened his mouth to tell the king he agreed with Gavo’s assessment – the invaders had clearly left the crops alone because they wanted the Damnonii farmers on their side when they returned, as they surely would, in the spring. But now wasn’t the time for that; now was the time for merry making. He absent-mindedly fingered a gold arm ring, one of many valuable gifts the king had given him, and Duro, for bringing the princess home safely, although he wasn’t really one for wearing such ostentatious jewellery.
“Why don’t I tell the full tale of my adventures over the past few weeks?” he offered, knowing Coroticus always loved stories, but the king shook his head and drained the last of his ale.
“Not tonight, my friend,” he said, getting to his feet a little unsteadily. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to bed. You can regale us all with your adventures tomorrow when, I hope, there will be rather more people to join in celebrating Alt Clota’s good fortune.”
Everyone in the tent got to their feet although Coroticus was oblivious to the respectful gesture and Gavo waved two of the guards out from the shadows to escort the king to the fortress. At least the man wasn’t so drunk he’d need carried up the myriad steps to the royal quarters, although the two bodyguards Gavo had selected were burly enough they would have been able to lift the king if necessary.
“Good night, my lord.” Bellicus bowed his head, Duro following suit as Coroticus sauntered out into the night, Gavo placing a fur-lined waterproof cloak around the king’s shoulders to keep the rain off. The captain re-joined the druid and the centurion at the high table once their lord was safely off and inside the walls of Dun Breatann.
With the king’s departure came a noticeable lightening of the mood. Half a dozen of the men even began to sing along with the musicians and the hooded, wary eyes of the people brightened in glad relief.
“You know Drest, Cunneda and Loarn mac Eirc will be back just as soon as the winter snows pass and the roads are passable once again?” Gavo said, eyeing the druid frankly.
“Of course. They didn’t come here for nothing.” Bel nodded thoughtfully, absent-mindedly watching a pair of slave girls who’d been commanded to dance in the centre of the room by one of the noblemen. “Why didn’t they burn the crops? Or rape and pillage our settlements which were, mostly, undefended since many of the warriors had been called here to defend the fortress? Drest is no fool, and neither are the other two. They’ll have sent out men to try and turn our people against Coroticus, hoping to return here in the spring to a land still wealthy and populated by people ready to join them.” He met Gavo’s eyes. “Why doesn’t Coroticus understand this? Has he become an idiot since I’ve been away? Did Catia’s abduction addle his wits?”
The guard captain frowned, taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but he thought about it for a long moment before replying. As he opened his mouth to speak one of the ale servers approached their table and he held his peace until she’d left again, wary of their conversation somehow getting back to the king.
“To an extent, aye, the girl’s disappearance did addle his mind,” Gavo said, leaning in closer to Bellicus so even Duro wouldn’t be able to overhear him. “It was as if he was in mourning – not just for Catia, but for his own manhood. He seems unable to hear criticism of his plans or his leadership now, even from me or the queen. He believes the people still back him as they always have, even when things like this happen.” He gestured with his hand at the half-empty tent. “Which is probably just as well, to be honest. Who knows what he’d do if he genuinely believed folk were snubbing his grand celebrations?”
“I assume your excuse, about an illness taking everyone, was just a way to placate him then?”
“Aye,” Gavo agreed. “The people are angry. It’s just as well the Picts decided to invaded at this time of year – if they’d not had to go and prepare for winter I fear we’d have faced open rebellion, and you’d have returned to find a new king of Alt Clota, Bel.”
“What should we do then?”
“First, I send riders out in the morning to the nearest villages, ordering the chiefs to get their arses here to join the final night’s feasting.” Gavo upended his mug and wiped foam from his long beard. “Then…well, I thank Cernunnos you’ve returned to us, druid. Maybe you’ll be able to get through to the king, especially since his daughter is safe again. Things can return to the way they were before, perhaps.”
Bellicus shook his head in frustration. “I had planned on asking Coroticus to send men south, to join the warlord, Arthur. He’s a good man, a good leader, and he is standing against the Saxons, which I believe we all must do, before it’s too late. But now…” He sighed. “We’re going to need every warrior we can muster to hold off Loarn and Drest. I’m sorry my friend,” he turned to Duro. “I know you wanted us to go with Arthur to smash Horsa and the rest of them and avenge your wife, but it will have to wait.”
Gavo nodded. “Hopefully we can get things back to normal quickly, now that you’re home, druid.” The captain got to his feet, draining the last of his ale in one final, long pull. Bellicus reached up and they grasped forearms, wishing one another a good night.
“One last thing, Bel,” the captain said, turning back as he recalled something important. “Like I say, Coroticus has changed since you left. Try not to do anything to irritate him or make him suspicious, and watch what you’re saying around Senecio. Don’t turn to look at him, he’s watching us. He’s always watching.”
“Senecio?” The druid’s brow furrowed. He knew the man, had nodded a greeting to him at the start of the meal, but he had no recollection of him ever being close to the king. “You think he’s a spy? For Drest, or Loarn mac Eirc or…?”
“No,” the captain shook his head gently. “I believe he is loyal to the king. But he tells Coroticus what he wants to hear, whether it’s good advice or not. And I have no doubt he would report back to him if he thought anyone was speaking against him.” He patted Bellicus on the arm and got to his feet. “Just mind what you say in front of him – the queen has suspicions he’s been trained by your brother druids...”
Gavo left, following the same route the king had taken not so long before and Bel gazed thoughtfully up at the tent roof. He knew the Merlin had someone within Dun Breatann who sent him news about the place – the High Druid had made it clear when they met during Bellicus’s quest to rescue Catia. Was Senecio the Merlin’s man? Did it matter?
His earlier enjoyment had gone by now, replaced by a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t need to check the entrails of a sacrificial lamb, or stare into the flickering orange flames of a bonfire to foresee great troubles approaching from all sides with the coming of spring.
Perhaps even before then.
CHAPTER TEN
With the army disbanded and returned to their own homes there wasn’t such a pressing need for large stores of food. But, like every year in Dun Breatann when summer drew to an end, winter supplies had to be collected. Every settlement under King Coroticus’s rule sent, as tribute or tax, a portion of their crops and salted meat to the fortress, where it was stored safely within the walls. The men who lived there, such as Gavo and his guards, as well as carpenters and other workers, would contribute by fishing or hunting for deer, hares, birds and whatever else could be snared or shot with a bow.
Sometimes the king himself would go out hunting, enjoying the thrill of chasing down a wild boar or a stag, if one could be found. Today was such a day.
Bellicus had come to the great hall in the morning just after sunrise, alone, letting Duro, who was sharing his roundhouse with him for now, sleep a while longer. He helped himself to some bread and cold ham to quell the rumbling in his empty belly, watching the servants lay fresh straw on the floor, mixed with late-summer flowers to take away the ever-present stench of vomit, stale drink, and dog.
The king came in soon after and, with a nod of greeting, joined the druid at the table although he ate nothing, signalling for a serving gir
l to bring him only a mug of ale.
“What are you doing today?” Coroticus asked somewhat brusquely, wiping froth from his beard. “I’m going out hunting if you want to come.”
Bellicus finished what he was chewing so he didn’t spit crumbs all over the king, then put his bread down on the trencher before him. “I was planning on visiting a few of the nearby villages to see if they have need of my services. Healing, spiritual guidance, curses lifted, that sort of thing. Does the people good to see a druid every once in a while.”
“That’s a shame,” Coroticus grunted. “Never mind.”
For some reason Bel thought he looked pleased, as if the king had invited him along merely as a formality and was secretly glad he wasn’t coming.
Coroticus finished his drink then smiled and got to his feet. Behind him, the small figure of Catia came into the hall, accompanied by Queen Narina. They both grinned when they saw Bellicus eating breakfast and hurried over to the table.
In contrast, the king’s smile faded, replaced with a frown when the princess went directly to the seated druid and grasped his arm excitedly.
“Did he tell you? Isn’t it exciting?”
Bellicus glanced up from the girl to Narina then on to Coroticus. “Did who tell me what? What’s happening, girl?”
The king pursed his lips and looked like he was going to say something, some rebuke, but the queen laid a hand on his arm and the words died although he looked even more irritated by the whole meeting now.
“I’m going hunting! Father says I can come along. Look.” She patted her hip and the druid saw a small dagger sheathed there. “If the Saxons ever come back here, I mean to be able to use this,” she patted the weapon, the grim expression on her face making her seem older than her eight years. “I’ve to learn how to shoot a hunting bow too.”
Bellicus wasn’t sure what to say. He thought it was a mad idea to let the girl go along on a hunt with the men, when they might come up against anything, even a wolf or a bear. Six months ago he’d have asked the king if he thought it was wise – if perhaps Catia should grow for another year or two before joining the hunt. He knew better than to question Coroticus now however, especially when it came to the matter of the princess.
So he simply smiled encouragingly and raised a piece of ham to his lips. “That’s good,” he said. “Be careful and stay close to the king or Gavo, if he’s about. Hunts are very dangerous.”
He popped the meat into his mouth and began to chew, savouring its salty flavour, but it almost lodged in his throat as the girl hauled impatiently on his arm.
“What do you mean, Bel? You’re coming along too aren’t you? Father said he’d ask you.”
“I did ask him,” Coroticus said in a hard tone. “He’s got druid duties to see to today, so you’ll just have to make do with my company, if that’s all right?”
Catia was oblivious to the king’s annoyance and pulled again on the druid’s great arm. “You have to come with us,” she said petulantly.
“Why?”
“Because I command it, and I’m your princess.”
She might have been unable to sense the tension in the air but Bellicus could read it well enough and wondered what he should say. Obviously, the king didn’t want him along, perhaps wondering if the girl believed he couldn’t protect her from danger, while Narina didn’t want to say the wrong thing so said nothing at all.
“Hurry up and decide, druid, whatever it is you’re doing.” Coroticus turned and strode from the room without a backward glance. “I’m away to get my horse ready. Don’t be long, girl. If you’re not in the stables soon I’ll leave without you.”
“Please come, Bel,” Catia said, grasping his hand now. “I’d like you to.”
She let go of him and ran after Coroticus, shouting for him to slow down and wait on her, leaving the druid and the queen alone.
“In the name of Lug, what was that all about?” he hissed, brows drawn together. “What’s wrong with Coroticus? I thought he was going to reprimand me for something at one point there.”
“Keep your voice down,” Narina said. “He doesn’t like you calling Catia ‘girl’, or ‘lass’, or anything like that. He thinks you should be calling her ‘princess’ and being more respectful.”
Bellicus was astonished and stared at the queen with his mouth open. He’d always called Catia those things and it had never been an issue before. He wasn’t some lowly guardsman by the gods, he was druid of the Damnonii and, as such, could address people as he damn well pleased.
“He’s jealous of you,” Narina went on, looking back nervously over her shoulder at the door. “You rescued Catia from the Saxons and now she sees you as her protector. She wakes up in the night crying for you, Bel. You must understand how that makes Coroticus feel.”
The giant druid digested this information in thoughtful silence then, with a sigh, reached out to pat the queen on the hand but she stepped back, agitated and nervous.
“In the name of Sulis,” she muttered, “don’t let him see you doing anything like that either. He’ll have you cast out if he thinks there’s anything between us.”
Bellicus shook his head and got his feet, angry himself now. This was all insane – he’d never been anything but loyal to the king. Aye, he’d slept with the queen once, years ago on the night of Beltaine, but he didn’t even know it was her.
And Coroticus knew nothing of that – Lug, even Bellicus hadn’t known about it until Catia was abducted and the queen confessed to him!
Why was Coroticus acting so belligerently towards him? The man had no right, not after he’d placed his own life in danger to travel the full length of the island to rescue the princess.
“Where are you going?” Narina asked, her tone softer now, conciliatory.
“Hunting,” Bel replied and stalked from the hall.
Coroticus’s mouth had formed into a thin line when he realised Bellicus would be joining them on their trip, but he’d not complained, simply kicked his heels into his horse and led the party – nine of them including Bel, Duro, Catia and, of course, faithful Gavo – out through the gates of Dun Breatann and north, towards the hills beside the village of Dun Buic. There would be plenty of game there although little in the way of bears or wolves as they’d been mostly killed off by local hunters.
Catia would be relatively safe in the woods there, although even a boar could be deadly if angered and fighting for its life, so Bellicus planned to keep a close eye on the girl, whether Coroticus liked it or not. He carried a spear instead of his druid’s staff, just in case they met anything more dangerous than a deer.
The king led the party with the princess beside him on her own small pony, Gavo flanking her other side and the rest of the men in a ragged line behind. Everyone except Bel and the kennel master, Esico, carried a bow with arrows tucked inside their sword belts. The dogs, six of them, tall and rangy, raced along beside them, an apparently undisciplined pack, but the druid knew Esico could control them with an iron fist when the time came. Cai ran with them, tail wagging, enjoying the excitement and new smells of the autumn morning. Bel had brought him along not only because he would benefit from the exercise, but because the powerfully built dog had an excellent nose for tracking.
As they made their way along the road leading up towards the high woods Bel looked east, at the form of Dun Buic Hill, contemplating its resemblance from this direction to a sleeping giant. From any other side the hill looked much like any other shapeless lump in the earth, but here the rock seemed to form the profile of a forehead, nose, mouth, neck and long flat body in repose – it was uncanny, and many tales were told about it by the locals.
When would the giant awaken? When the Damnonii were in dire need, it was said.
Bellicus wondered if they should start petitioning the gods to waken the sleeping titan in time for Drest’s inevitable return next spring.
“What are you thinking about?”
The high voice broke his reverie and he turned
to the front, seeing the princess eyeing him with a curious half-smile.
“The giant,” Bel said, nodding eastwards. “I wish we could wake him up and send him after the Picts and the Saxons. It would save us a lot of trouble.”
“Well,” she replied, laughing, “you’re the one with the magic. Go and tell him to stop lying around and help his people.”
He returned her smile, pleased that she seemed to be getting over the traumatic experiences with Horsa and the rest of her sea-wolf abductors. He hadn’t been sure if she’d ever be able to put it behind her when he and Duro first rescued her away back at the Giant’s Dance, so lost was she in her fear.
The days and weeks since they’d been home though, with Narina’s loving presence in particular, had seen Catia’s smile return more often and Bel hoped the nightmares the queen had mentioned would soon be banished. Certainly, the girl had nothing to fear in these lands, with winter drawing in. No Saxons, or any other raiders, would come until the spring, and the king’s guards had been ordered to keep a close eye on her at all times.
Not to mention Duro – the centurion had taken a shine to the princess and, with him and Bellicus around, there was nothing to threaten her, apart from her own bad memories.
“Did you know Dun Breatann and Dun Buic Hill are formed from the same volcanic rock?” he said, and she looked a little confused as she took this information in.
“You mean they’re connected?”
Bellicus eyed her thoughtfully, as if she’d said something unexpectedly insightful. “Perhaps,” he replied, and they began to walk again.
Song of the Centurion Page 9
