by Scott Hurst
Guidolin grinned. ‘Of course.’
Dye, his eyes on Guidolin, whispered to Calista. ‘What did he make you do - in the bedroom?’
She stared back at him stony-faced. ‘Don’t ever ask me that again.’ She swallowed convulsively. ‘As soon as we are back in power in Catuvellaunia, we throw him and his scum out of our country and attack Dobunnia. I’ll make that bastard pay for what he did to me if it’s the last thing I do.’
Twisting suddenly Dye grabbed Calista’s wrist. ‘And I will make you pay for your betrayal if it’s the last thing I do!’
*****
Paulinus took his place in front of his brother monks once more.
‘Gentlemen of the Guild, the last time I stood here you could not reach agreement. Was Maximus Vellauni the right candidate? Had he enough experience to lead Britain out of the darkness? The character to unite it? At that time you refused to name him Rex Britannorum. I come now to plead with you once more, to help Max create the unity which is our greatest hope.’ Allowing his words to register, Paulinus moved on. ‘Since our last meeting Max has begun to heal the divisions within his own tribe. He has reached out to his neighbours, offering alliances. Any tribe attacked may now call on all the tribes for support. Maximus was the first to declare his tribe free of Rome. Only he offers a vision of true peace and security for the future of this island, an island which is in great danger.’
Paulinus scanned the room, trying to gauge his brothers’ reactions, but his listeners were giving little away. Undaunted, he continued. ‘Even as we speak, Guidolin’s invasion army is ready to move. Maximus and his Catuvellauni might have been able to see off the Dobunni alone. But his priest Lupicinius, once a brother of this Guild, has used lies and bribery to persuade the other tribes to join him.’ The Guild members were silent, listening intently. ‘When Guidolin marches the Atrebates, Corieltauvi and Cantii will also march against the Catuvellauni. Guidolin and his allied forces will certainly win.’
Paulinus felt all eyes on him. ‘Unless you are prepared to accept that as the fate of all Britain we need your help. Ensure Maximus’s vision becomes a reality. I urge you, throw your full support behind him now. Our contacts, our influence amongst our peoples could still persuade the other tribes not to join forces with Guidolin.’
There was a long silence, then one of the brothers spoke quietly and firmly. ‘Last time you were here, Brother Paulinus, a serious reason for our refusal to recognize Maximus was the loss of the Torc. There has been no progress locating it?’
Paulinus smiled at last. ‘I have just had word. It has not come cheaply, but I believe we are closer to finding that great treasure once more.’
*****
The family had gathered to hear Heru’s news. Having fled Calista, it had taken all of Paulinus’s resources to find him again. ‘My Lord Maximus,’ the Egyptian said quietly, a chastened version of the man who once deceived the Vellauni, ‘ever since you saved me, I have borne you a debt of gratitude. Since Calista and Dye’s threat to invade Catuvellaunia I have doubled my efforts to find news of the Torc.’
Max grew still with anticipation. ‘You know where it is?’
Heru’s eyes slid to Paulinus and he seemed to be calculating. ‘I believe it was retaken by a member of the Massilia cult.’
‘What? How is this possible, Heru? Where is this information coming from?’ Now, more than ever, it was imperative he know the facts.
‘Their spy joined your company just before you marched from Arelate. Tascio, the slave boy, who looked after you? He was there to get close to you.’
Max’s mind was racing. ‘Heru, someone tried to steal the Torc from my room before we marched. Was it Tascio who came to my room that night? ’
Heru looked puzzled. ‘I think it is impossible. Tascio only managed to join your force the very day it marched from Arelate. But he succeeded in his mission to get the Torc back by stealth. According to my sources it is now being held back at the sect’s shrine in Arelate. A smaller shrine, easier to protect.’
Max was thinking fast. If it wasn’t Tascio, that meant there was still a traitor around. He sat hunched forward, his body tense with hope. ‘You know where this shrine is?’
Heru shook his head. ‘It has already cost me much time and money to get this much information.’ The little Egyptian looked around expectantly, as if hoping someone might offer to recompense him for his expense. Perhaps he was more his old self than he looked. Max raised an eyebrow unsmilingly. ‘Your debt to me must be almost repaid then.’
Heru coughed nervously. ‘Quite so. The sect will have placed it in a more secret location this time. Only the most powerful of the cult will have access to it. Easier to pass through the eye of a needle, as our good Lord said, than find this place.’
There was a sudden look of excitement on Salvius’ face. ‘The carpenter might know! If we knew where to find it we could pretend to be new initiates? Heru knows their ways. He could teach us the signs and proofs we need to know?’
Paulinus looked chagrined. ‘I have a confession to make. The young carpenter was an…emissary…of an organization I belong to. That young man betrayed us. I offered him a chance to make good by trying to infiltrate the Sol Invictus sect. Though he was there many months he was able to get to know men in the outer circle only. It takes time for such connections to grow. You cannot force them.’ The old monk paced the room, thinking hard, then turned back to face them, a look of excitement on his face.
‘Perhaps if you pretended to belong to a brother sect, one here in Britain? Offered to tell them of a new ritual at the very highest level of initiation…perhaps if you took with you some visible proof? To us the Torc is vital. But to these sect members the Torc is just as potent. If we offered them some new information about its power, marked somehow with their sun symbol?’
Heru joined in. ‘I know some of the legends that sustain their faulty beliefs. I could create such an object, Maximus,’ he looked at him hopefully, ‘and perhaps in that way I can finally make good my debt?’
Delighted, Max accepted. ‘You’d have to work as quickly as possible, Heru. And the gold you use would have to be real...’ Max smiled at him, grateful. This might just work.
Sabrina was less certain. ‘It’s a great risk. They would surely execute anyone they found trying to trick them. And whom shall we send?’
Max looked at her, not understanding. ‘I must be the one to go. No one knows Arelate better. No one else would recognize the carpenter or know anything about how the sect operates.’
Rhoswen looked doubtful. ‘Leave your people at this crucial time? Who will protect us while you are away?’
Max caught her hand. ‘You will, mother. You made better decisions than father ever could, though he was quick to claim the credit. With Sabrina, Paulinus and Victor at your side you could probably govern Catuvellaunia better than I ever could.’
‘But what if Guidolin attacks while you are away?’ Rhoswen was insistent.
‘If it came to a war, you would provide as wise and brave command as I.’ Max’s mind was racing, calculating. ‘The omens must have been very poor; otherwise they would have attacked long before now.
Now Sabrina spoke up. ‘I agree with Madoc. They’ve needed time to build their army and their alliances. But I believe Lupicinius will wait now for the rise of the constellation of Arcturus, fifty days after the summer solstice. Lupicinius is obsessed with good omens. He would never dare risk such a great battle otherwise.’
Paulinus spoke quietly. ‘I wonder at Lupicinius. The star’s activity portends tempestuous times, great upheaval. I would have thought his bronze calendar would have shown some less dangerous portent.’
Max felt his heart beat faster. If that was true, they had won themselves some time. Max turned to him. ‘He has no choice, don’t you see? Arcturus means ‘bear guardian’, after all. Whoever wins the battle on that day would automatically win the support of all the tribes. We have another thirty days until then.’ He nodded
. ‘If I move fast, I can be back in far less time - with the Torc.’
Sabrina looked at him fearfully. ‘If you are not killed first!’
‘What would you have me do, Sabrina?’ he urged her, willing her to understand. ‘Without the Torc, we risk Catuvellaunia being wiped out.’
Sabrina looked anxiously at him, then blurted out what many of them had been thinking. ‘The Torc is cursed, Max. Everyone says it. Yes, it may offer you short term success in battle, but long term it brings doom. You have already come close to death under it.’
Paulinus put a comforting arm around her. ‘You are right, my Queen. But we are the underdogs – if the Torc was restored to us now, the tribe would believe itself unconquerable. I fear the consequences if it falls into the wrong hands now.’
Was it true? Was it cursed? Even if it was, Max felt he had no choice – bringing back the Torc now would give the Catuvellauni victory. Whatever curse it might carry, he must risk it, for his people. He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Of one thing I am sure – the help the Torc will give us is real enough.’
Victor, as ever, was quick to offer support. ‘We will send a force with you, Maximus.’
Max grunted his thanks. ‘A large force would have no hope of slipping into Arelate unseen.’
Salvius and Madoc were instantly there. ‘We will accompany you.’
Max’s mind was racing again. He still could not trust Salvius fully. ‘Madoc, you will accompany me.’ He paused, avoiding looking at Salvius’s devastated expression. ‘Salvius, you will stay here to protect Rhoswen and Sabrina.’
Salvius looked cut to the quick. ‘Have I done something wrong, Arcturus? Something to offend you?’
Suddenly Max found the courage to say what he had been struggling with all these long weeks. ‘That night in Arelate, you were the only one who knew where the Torc was. You knew I was going to be delayed. The attacker carried the same sword you did.’
Total silence had fallen on the room now. Somehow Max continued. ‘There are too many coincidences, Salvius. Guidolin has known our every move. How else did he know when we would go to Massilia? Why else did your unit failed to catch those Dobunnic raiders? And who else could have told Dye and Calista to flee just before we attacked?’
Salvius looked at Max, dark fury in his eyes. But he didn’t defend himself. Instead he stormed from the room.
*****
Disguised as travelling merchants, Max and Madoc found it easy enough to catch a trading boat that same evening, along with a small number of other passengers. Having negotiated passage with the captain, first across to Armorica, then south along the Gallic coast, the two men settled down to sleep on bulky sacks of grain piled between the cut wood that filled the low hulled boat from stern to bow. Their journey should have taken three days but the winds were with them. Sitting in the summer sunshine, enjoying the movement of the hull cutting through salt water, Max pulled out the leather bound folder Heru had made for them. In a very short time the Egyptian had done masterful work. The leather was etched with symbols and, embossed on the cover of hammered gold, was the sun, surmounted with a cross, the symbol of the Sol Invectus sect. Underneath in Greek letters Heru had engraved, ‘The Sacred Writings of the Apostle Bartholomew.’ Below that were lines carefully etched on the gold. Tracing the letters with his fingers Max shivered briefly. Was it a sin to create such a heretical document? Even one intended for such a good purpose? Paulinus had reassured him there were other such documents circulating the Empire. He turned the folder over in his hands. It was magnificent. But was it magnificent enough to open doors for them in Arelate?
Madoc hissed a warning, ‘Don’t flash that around too much.’ As if to illustrate his point he nodded to the other side of the boat. Glancing up Max saw a swarthy skinned man looking away almost as quickly. Hiding the document in his cloak Max pulled it tighter around him. For the rest of the journey they were vigilant, relaxing only slightly when they finally reached Burdigalia. Their would-be assailant disappeared into the crowds on the dockside. Yet from the moment they landed, as they moved through the port’s crowded streets Max had a strange sensation of being followed. From time to time he looked behind him. ‘Something wrong?’ Madoc asked.
Max looked behind him again, trying not to be obvious. There was no-one suspicious, but it was enough to make him nervous. ‘I have this constant feeling there’s somebody watching us.’
Madoc raised his eyebrows. ‘The man from the boat?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Max looked again, surreptitiously. Again there was nothing. ‘Probably just nerves getting the better of me.’ Nevertheless they took a circuitous route through the city, deliberately taking twists and turns that might throw any follower off. The town was busy, alive with the commerce that had made it so important to the Romans. Along the bank of the river ran the road that would take them south. It seemed that many others were making the journey with them. With widespread fighting all over the area, people were banding together to make travel safer.
‘Perhaps we should join a caravan too, Madoc? Blend in and keep safe at the same time?’
Madoc wiped at his red face with his sudaria. ‘There’s no doubt we’d be safer, but we’d have to be careful of the company we keep.’
Just about to buy protection from a column of civilians headed for Arelate the following day they had a stroke of luck. At a horse merchant’s they ran into a caravan headed for the southern city, already making their final preparations to leave.
Madoc spoke for them both. ‘Dare we risk it?’ He nodded to the uniformed men protecting the caravan. Roman soldiers.
Max had seen them too. ‘Looks like a small detachment sent out from their unit. Officium consularis.’
Madoc nodded. Military personnel performing some task for their military masters. Legionary pay was never lavish, and food and arms were deducted from the amount they were paid. Soldiers were always keen to supplement their income with protection duties. Overheard conversations revealed they were a contubernium, a group of soldiers who shared a tent and ate together. They seemed good men. And the company looked safe enough too.
Max shrugged. ‘Perhaps it’s safest travelling with them, hiding under the enemy’s nose?’
The caravan was already divided into two small groups. The soldiers would ride either side. Max surveyed them carefully. A wealthy Gaulish family, travelling in a lavish litter, pulled by several horses. A merchant family riding in a heavy read, the sides built up with boards to contain their large wicker baskets full of hemp, musk and rhubarb. ‘It looks as though there’s room with them for us to ride for a price. We’d definitely make faster progress.’
But it was a serious risk too. ‘See that guy, obviously wealthy? The one whose slave is readying the smaller cisium?’
Madoc looked over at the light carriage, built like a chariot. ‘Nice way to travel.’
‘Yes, and used by people in a hurry. Like messengers for the Emperor.’
Yet he was determined to risk it now. But how to persuade the captain to take them with them? Max looked the possibilities over one more time. The Gaulish family had room in their read, and its overhead arch covered with embroidered cloth, which would keep them hidden. Its driver was putting the finishing touches to the side fastenings, sweating profusely. His gleaming red nose gave Max some inspiration. With any luck that nose was the mark of a man who liked a drink….
‘Invite that fellow to quench his thirst, Madoc,’ he grinned slyly. ‘And make sure he has a nice siesta.’
A short time later, Max approached the captain, who eyed him suspiciously. ‘I see you’re missing your raedarius. Have you found anyone to drive that wagon?’
*****
The caravan made good progress. Nevertheless, Max found himself praying whenever any of the soldiers looked too long in his direction. Plagued by the constant sense of danger they kept themselves to themselves until they reached Arelate. As they travelled, Max kept thinking of Salvius. After th
eir argument his friend had disappeared, as though into thin air. Had he gone direct to the Dobunni with their plan to retrieve the Torc? There was nothing for it but to stay alert, knowing that Guidolin might be planning something. Strangely the rest of their journey went smoothly. More smoothly, in fact, than he had ever dared hope.
Standing before the city walls in a long line of travellers waiting to pass through the city gates part of Max was astonished that he was heading back into the lion’s den again. Should Constantine discover his presence here his ‘justice’ would be swift and no doubt painful. Waiting for inspection Max checked out the possibilities. If they had to make a run for it, there was no cover for some distance
Most travellers were being waved through by the guards after a cursory glance. Hopefully he and Madoc wouldn’t be asked too many questions. He went over their prepared cover stories in his head one last time. The sea captain had believed they were merchants seeking official contracts. He’d even believed their forged documents, thanks to Heru.
The guard was the surly sort who revelled in the little power he’d been given. He stopped them and asked detailed enquiries. Reluctantly Max began his cover story. ‘We’re leather merchants from Britannia…’
The soldier interrupted him, snarling. ‘Britannia? Served there ten years. Worst posting ever. Uncivilized scum. And liars. Too many of your sort in our army now, that’s for sure. Surely without us you Brits are too poor to pay for anything now? Come on, out with it,’ he shouted, ‘what are you really doing here?
Max continued his story, gripping the dagger hidden under his cloak. Was it his glance at the gate that made the guard suspicious? Suddenly the Roman ordered over another guard to watch them while he went to consult his officer. Max shared a fleeting look with Madoc. He could see Madoc was thinking the same. ‘If it comes to it, head into the city.’ As they watched the officer turned and pointed at them. Other faces turned in their direction. Finally the guard officer started walking back towards them. Max tensed, every part of him ready to flee. Max expected words of accusation. Instead the man simply gestured with his head in the direction of the open city gates. ‘Be my guest.’
