by Scott Hurst
Lupicinius’s dark eyes widened under his cowl. ‘That may be, Maximus of the Vellauni, but the fact is she will be going back to Guidolin, with or without the oxen.’
Severus was on his feet now. ‘Sabrina is our guest and will be treated as such!’
Lupicinius’s pale brow rose. His skin was grey, Max noted, and shone slightly in the candlelight, as though he was fevered. For a healer, he was the sickliest looking individual Max had ever seen. But his tone was strong. ‘Noble sentiments, but made less noble by the fact that your son stole this woman from her home and her people.’
Max unclenched his fists. ‘A decision forced on us which cost the life of a dear friend.’
‘Ah yes, Decentius.’ Lupicinius let out a deep breath. ‘A pity when life is lost so needlessly.’
Fury surged in Max. He threw himself at Lupicinius. Salvius and Paulinus held him back. Lupicinius was smiling. ‘Have a care, Maximus. Attack me and there will be no turning back for the Dobunni. The death of their priest would have to be avenged, no matter the consequences. Besides, you don’t want General Gerontius to come knocking on your family’s door…’ Lupicinius was still speaking, as though he could read Max’s thoughts. His eyes burned with challenge. ‘Your guilt stings, doesn’t it?’ Max felt his spirit darken as he looked into the eyes of the priest. Somehow he felt known by him, and had a sudden realisation of what the man was capable of.
Severus echoed his words. ‘You be careful, Lupicinius. Or I may decide that facing the General’s wrath is worth the pleasure of ripping out your insides.’
Lupicinius was not intimidated. ‘Enough of these pleasantries. Gerontius has made his wishes clear. Matters over property and deaths will be settled fairly. You may submit claimed compensation and we will do likewise. If there are disagreements, the church can mediate.’ He paused, allowing the moment to lengthen. ‘Guidolin, however, has one specific demand on which he will not be moved.’
Max knew what the demand was before it was uttered.
Lupicinius made sure to have eye contact with him. ‘The Lady Sabrina must be returned to her people.’
Max felt the heat in his face. ‘Never!’
The whole assembly was staring at him. Every ounce of wisdom in Max spoke against letting her go. For days now his heart had felt a strange possibility between them. If she left now, that possibility would leave with her. She wouldn’t submit to Guidolin…she’d die first. There had to be another solution, one that didn’t involve sending her back to whatever fate Guidolin had prepared for her.
Lupicinius raised an eyebrow. ‘Without her return there can be no peace. General Gerontius will be told where the fault lies and doubtless pay the Catuvellauni another visit. This time less pleasant.’
Calista stepped forward now, addressing Severus sweetly. ‘Why put the future of our entire tribe at risk for the sake of one woman? She’s not even of our tribe.’ Her eyes glittered, betraying her anger.
At her sidelong glance Dye stood up, muttering his agreement. ‘The woman is nothing to us. Why should we shelter her, when to do so means war?’
Lupicinius considered the scene, missing nothing. Max watched the priest, knowing he was armed now with new information. They had shown him their weakness – they lacked unity. Severus was wavering, torn between his two sons. Lupicinius could see it too.
Finally the old man spoke, slowly. ‘As I say, the Lady Sabrina is our guest. It would be wrong for her to go back unwillingly…at this stage.’
Lupicinius stiffened. ‘Since we have failed to reach agreement, give me time to consult with my advisors and send word to Guidolin of your views on this issue.’
Severus lifted his chin. ‘My wife will arrange rooms for yourself and your delegation. We reconvene tomorrow.’
*****
Sabrina had been told to keep to Rhoswen’s rooms until the negotiations were over. Seeking to soothe her spirit she chose a scroll from the poetry lying at Rhoswen’s bedside. Catullus, the poet who had sought refuge from politics and war with words of love. Reading, she blushed at the erotic word pictures he painted. An image of Max flashed through her mind. He had rescued her twice now, risking his life and his family’s lives for her. When he’d first come home she’d thought him arrogant and shallow. Now she had seen a new side to him. What would it be like to lie with him? At the thought another, darker image flashed across her mind, terrifying and paralysing.
She would take her own life rather than go back.
A shadow fell across the scroll. Sabrina looked up, startled. Lupicinius was standing in the doorway, regarding her quietly.
‘Don’t come any closer!’
The priest took a step forward, hands held wide. ‘I come in peace, Lady Sabrina. Can’t one Dobunnic friend look up another?’
‘You’re no friend of mine, Lupicinius. Nor of my tribe’s.’
Lupicinius grimaced in distaste. ‘Let us speak truth, Lady Sabrina. You hate me almost as much as I hate you. Yet there are things we can do for each other.’
She misunderstood him. ‘Lay one finger on me and I’ll have you castrated and hung from Verulamium’s walls.’
He frowned. ‘If I’d wanted your body, I’d have would have taken it back at the fort, instead of handing you over to the Catuvellaunian as a whore. Did he fuck you well?’
‘He didn’t touch me.’
‘Didn’t touch you?’ Lupicinius seemed to consider something. ‘Why would Maximus go to all the trouble of rescuing you, rather than just abusing you?’
Sabrina felt herself colour. ‘Perhaps, unlike yourself, he is an honourable man.’
‘You think him honourable?’ There was a sudden flicker of interest in Lupicinius’s expression. ‘There is an… attraction between you?’
For a few seconds Sabrina was silent. ‘Maximus of the Vellauni has a… good spirit. I would hope he would say the same of me.’
Lupicinius stared at her, transfixed, then smiled. ‘Excellent news. Then we may be able to do each other a favour. Something to our mutual advantage.’
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘Talk fast.’
Lupicinius paused, savouring his moment. ‘The terms for peace between us have been agreed, except for one thing - your forced return to Guidolin. Your fate hangs in the balance. The Lady Calista and that weakling Dye are keen to see you leave. Lord Severus, though he seems fond of you, has his eyes on a bigger prize now. He needs peace with the Dobunni. With the right leverage, he could be persuaded to send you back.’ He looked at her questioningly. Her eyes were wide with fear and terror. Time to dangle the bait. ‘There may yet be a way out of it.’
Sabrina’s voice betrayed her confusion. ‘Why should you help me?’
‘Because by helping you I help myself.’
Though her heart was racing, her mind kept pace. And then she understood. ‘You mean to overthrow him, take the tribe for yourself.’ That’s what the bear cult was about – power. ‘If I tell Guidolin of your plans he’ll have you killed, instantly.’
Now Lupicinius looked irritated. ‘You think he’d believe your word over mine? Make up your mind, Sabrina. Do we continue to swap threats, or will you hear what I have to say?’
She couldn’t deny the hope that surged through her. If there was any way …
‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘You need a Catuvellaunian husband. Fast. Get Maximus stiff, then tell him he has to marry you before he gets to play with you. Naturally he’ll want a good fucking, a chance to leave an heir behind before he trots off to Gaul.’ Seeing her expression he smiled at her. ‘Small price to pay for your freedom.’
He turned at the door. ‘Either that or you’re going back to Guidolin’s fort. And I’ll have to come up with some way of killing you there. After Guidolin’s had his fun with you, of course.’
*****
The Dobunnic delegation was barely out of earshot, when Calista rose to her feet. ‘I demand Sabrina be sent back to Caer den Arth! And Dye must command our forces in Gaul! Maximus is not to
be trusted.’
‘Daughter,’ Severus growled, ‘there will be no more talk of Sabrina until we meet the Dobunnic delegation tomorrow morning. As to who commands our contingent under Constantine, your eagerness does Dye credit, but men’s lives are at risk here. As well as the glory of the Catuvellauni.’
Max watched his father turn towards him. Somehow he knew what the old man was going to say, ‘Maximus, will you lead our men for Constantine? Lead the Catuvellauni?’ Severus reached out his hands.
Max felt his body alive with tension. So far his leadership had caused the unnecessary death of a dear friend. What if he caused the deaths of others? Something else stirred in his heart. He’d been weaned since childhood on tales of Catuvellaunian warriors, had always known that one day he would join them. Something called to him. Here was his chance to prove himself, to his father, to the tribe and to himself. With a sense of something greater than his fear, he took his father’s hands. ‘I will.’
For the first time in his life it almost felt as if the old man was proud of him. The moment was interrupted by Salvius pounding him on the back, congratulating him. ‘You will achieve such greatness, Maximus. And I will be there by your side!’
‘Me too, if you’ll have me!’ Madoc was grinning beside him. ‘I’d rather fight Romans than fellow Dobunni.’ With his sandy hair cut short and wearing the Romanised clothes of the Catuvellauni, Madoc could almost pass for one of them now. This quiet, unremarkable man had somehow become a reassuring presence among them.
But not everyone was celebrating Severus’s choice. That Calista threw back her head in contempt, eyes blazing, did not surprise him. What did surprise him was the look on Dye’s face. His brother wore a strange half smile as he rose. ‘Congratulations, brother. You will make a fine commander. Meanwhile I shall serve our people here, ready to lead our forces here against the other tribes if it is necessary. Know that if anything happens to you in Gaul the Catuvellauni are safe.’
Max smiled wryly. He wasn’t fooled. It suited cowardly Dye to stay here. What did it matter? He had a chance. A chance to become a great leader. A chance to fight for a great purpose, not murder civilians. And the chance to find the Torc.
Severus was jubilant. ‘My son, you will restore the Vellauni name. With God’s help you will not make the same mistakes I made.’ Intrigued, Max waited for some explanation, but Severus seemed to reconsider. ‘Gerontius says he needs you immediately. Our men must leave for Gaul within the week. There is much to do.’
Surrounded by well-wishers Max emerged into the courtyard, followed by Salvius and Madoc. Paulinus trailed behind.
Salvius could not contain his excitement. ‘Gaul,’ he yelled. ‘We’re headed for victory!’
Madoc’s freckled face was split in delight. ‘Glory, plunder and foreign women…what more could a man ask for?’
Salvius had begun pacing. ‘There’s a contingent to ready. And a defence strategy needed here at home. I don’t trust the Corieltauvi, the Atrebates or the Dobunni. And there is still the question of those missing girls. Another one has been reported lost.’
Max spun on his heel. ‘Another girl missing?’
‘Close to Verulamium.’
All the efforts that had gone into finding the missing sisters, all the search parties. Locals had been questioned fruitlessly. And now another one had disappeared.
Madoc reassured him. ‘We are doing everything possible to find this girl and the others.’
Max nodded. So much he would be leaving behind needed protection. The old monk was watching from a distance, his dear old face torn between joy and fear. ‘Paulinus, old friend, you do not congratulate me?’
Paulinus made an apologetic little gesture then dropped his head. ‘I am anxious only that in the first excitement of war you may not see the dangers.’ Lowering his voice Paulinus shared his deeper thoughts. ‘There is one great blessing in this sorry mess. The expedition takes you south. Close to the Torc.’
Madoc, crossing the sunlit courtyard, stopped. ‘What’s that about the Torc?’
Seeing the look Paulinus gave him, Max waved his hand dismissively. ‘Some foolish nonsense of Heru’s.’
Madoc shrugged. ‘Come, then. We have work to do. Plans to make, weapons to organise, men to find. Thankfully you Catuvellauni are not all untried in battle.’
Max thought of all the veterans who had accompanied him to the Dobunnic border. Otho, Calista’s cousin, would be best left at home, but he would enlist the others’ help. To keep them safe he’d need all the advice he could get. Max looked to Paulinus. ‘Will you help us, Paulinus? You know much of war.’
Paulinus spoke quietly. ‘I will be of greater help to you with my prayers. Ask your father. Let him be part of it. He and his veterans will advise you well. And Maximus,’ he challenged, ‘when you get to Gaul, continue to take advice from the veterans there. Seek them out. You are young, untempered by battle. Promise me you will take advice from others more experienced.’ Grabbing him in a bear hug, Paulinus whispered in his ear. ‘Heru’s map, you have it safe?’
Max nodded. How trustworthy it was Max was uncertain. But when he got to Gaul, as soon as was possible, he would seek out the temple in the abandoned mine.
‘Be careful, Max. Do not underestimate this Sol Invictus sect. These men will guard their secrets jealously.’
*****
The twirling dancers, dressed in honey coloured dresses, stopped as soon as Rhoswen came into the room.
‘Do not let me disturb you, Calista. You are preparing a dance?’
Calista looked flustered. ‘A trifling thing, Rhoswen, of no consequence.’
‘Don’t be so modest, Calista,’ Dye slurred from the couch. ‘My clever wife is preparing a piece for our soldiers who are leaving, in memory of the goddess Caliste.’
Rhoswen nodded. ‘I can see why you would choose to do so. Caliste was your name sake, and renowned, as you are, for her beauty. But why this sudden interest in an old goddess?’
‘Heru told me once of the sanctuary at Artemis, where young women spent their time in sacred dances and ceremonies.’
Had the woman no shame? She’d had Heru whipped and here she was quoting his wisdom. Something caught Rhoswen’s eye. ‘What is that amulet you are wearing, Calista?’ Rhoswen’s tone was suddenly cold. There was more to this dance rehearsal than met the eye. ‘I would have a word with you in the next room, my dear.’
Unwillingly, Calista followed her.
Rhoswen’s eyes were sparking, but her voice stayed calm. ‘That bear claw you are wearing - is it a protection token for a new life? The goddess Caliste was honoured by those seeking children.’
Calista grabbed at her necklace. ‘Is it any wonder I resort to such things? Your drunken son has yet to get me with child. We all know that if I don’t produce a whelp soon your precious Maximus and whatever bitch he marries may usurp us completely.’
Rhoswen stared at her. So beautiful and so cunning. She made another connection in her head. In the legend the nymph Caliste was turned into a bear. No doubt through her dance Calista was seeking to profit from the bear legend growing up around Maximus. Was this Calista’s attempt to become associated with the bear herself?
‘Max’s growing reputation as bear guardian has rattled you, Calista. Is this performance to be an attempt at damage limitation? Are you trying to steal some of his popularity?’
Calista looked at her sulkily. Rhoswen thought to see some pain in those beautiful eyes. ‘Just remember whose cub Maximus is, Calista. And that I too have claws.’
*****
Preparing their militia had taken its toll. Weary, his mind full of the day to come, Max retired early. Walking to his room he found himself thinking of Sabrina. By God, she was frustrating. A harridan one moment, an angel the next. She was a mystery to him. Why had she looked so stricken the night of the feast? Turning into the corridor towards his room he was astonished to find Sabrina standing at his doorway, smiling apprehensively.
Before he could greet her she rushed at him. ‘Is it true you’re going to Gaul?’
God, she looked beautiful. Had she been waiting for him? Her hair was woven into some elaborate design. He could smell her scent, wafting towards him. ‘Yes. My father has asked me to lead our delegation.’ Max felt his throat tighten and his groin follow. How striking her face was in the lamplight. How could he have ever thought otherwise? But why was she so tense?
Sabrina sensed his need for an explanation. ‘You have been so good to me, Maximus. Protected me. I simply wanted to tell you that I will be sad…’ She paused, seeming uncertain of how much she dared say.
‘…that I am going?’ he offered. It was true, then. He had sensed something between them. Taking a step forward, he lifted her chin. ‘You need not worry. When I’m away, my family will continue to protect you.’
She couldn’t meet his eyes. Then, suddenly she was weeping. It was the most natural thing in the world to take her in his arms. Immediately he was aware of her warmth through the thin material of her dress. His desire to protect her warred with his desire for her. Yet somehow he found himself stroking her hair, reassuring her, whispering that everything would be alright. As he brushed her hair away from her face he was mesmerized by a single tear on her soft cheek. Lowering his head he kissed it away.
It was Sabrina who turned her mouth to his. He felt the heat of her breath, saw the sweetness of her parted lips and then his lips were on hers. He kissed her hungrily and she kissed him back. The kiss deepened. For long minutes everything was lost to him but the feel of her, the taste of her.
When they finally pulled apart they stared at each other for long heartbeats. He sensed hesitancy, as though she wanted to tell him something, but when she began to speak her lips were so bewitching he caught them in his mouth again. Driven by an urge he couldn’t control he pressed her against the wall, trapping her with the length of his body. Her slender arms wrapped around him. As the kiss deepened a sigh escaped her lips. He’d go mad if he didn’t hear that sigh once more. Slanting his lips over hers, he allowed his hands to travel from the small of her back, down towards her delicious rear.
