Spears of Britannia

by Scott Hurst

  Max interrupted him. His tone was like steel. ‘I won’t leave without the Torc.’

  Both men looked at each other nervously, then Sigwulf spoke in his hesitant Latin. ‘Maybe it is possible. Constantine keeps it with him, but often after the evening meal he is…’ Sigwulf grinned and made copious drinking gestures, then pretended to stagger round the room and collapse asleep. Despite the situation Epillis grinned too, recognizing the portrayal only too well.

  Sigwulf continued the clowning done and the grin gone now. ‘My men and I will try to make it possible. Tonight is our watch.’

  Eppilus’ smile had gone now as well, and fear etched shadows deep in his face, ‘Sigi, it’s dangerous enough getting these people out, as it is. But to steal the Torc as well…’ his voice trailed off.

  Sigwulf shook his head ‘Not steal. Recover. It is Constantine who stole.’ He scratched his neck, ‘The Torc is a… sacred thing. Constantine should not have it. Under his orders we Saxons have done many things we should not have done. This is our atonement. Our last act in Gaul, one we can be proud of. If our hearts are right, Woden will look after us.’

  Back in Britain he had fought these people. Here, they were allies. But were they really aware of the risks? ‘If you’re caught Constantine will kill you.’

  The two men shrugged. It was Eppilus who spoke, resigned now to what would come. ‘Constantine’s a murdering bastard,’ he shrugged. ‘Yes, he’ll kill us. If he finds out we’ve helped you and if he can catch us before we escape. But we’ve both had enough. Sigi’s lot were on the verge of leaving anyway, as were we. If I can do some good for a fellow Briton and irritate the shit out of Constantine before we go it will be worth it. Besides,’ he looked at Max with admiration, ‘it seems you’ve been stirring up some excitement at home. I’d like to be a part of that. As well as part of bringing the Torc back where it belongs.’ Rising, he nodded to Madoc and Max. ‘Get yourselves ready. We’ll be back shortly to take you out of here.’

  *****

  Despite the tension, Max’s dozed, only to be awoken by a clatter in the corridor. The door banged opened and there stood Eppilus with some of his men. ‘Quick! Sigwulf’s going to distract Constantine’s bodyguards with a few Pannonian girls he’s hired. Fifteen of the guards, four of the girls. Should keep them busy for a bit, but not too long I expect. They’re not exactly the type to go in for civilized, lengthy lovemaking.’

  Max and Madoc dragged themselves out into the torch lit corridor. Eppilus gestured swiftly. ‘Quick as you can! Up the stairs!’

  They hobbled up into the night. The rain had stopped, and the night air was sweet after the stifling cell. Max could see lights from the guards’ room and sound of male chanting ‘Go on! Go on!’ and higher-pitched female laughter.

  In the darkness of a doorway into the basilica, Max could just see Sigwulf frantically beckoning. He pointed urgently into the interior where Max could just see Constantine lying slumped across a couch. ‘Quick, grab the Torc! I’ll kill any of the guards who comes too quickly,’ he laughed tightly, ‘if you know what I mean.’

  Max crept towards the slumped figure, his whole body aware of the silence in the cavernous building, tensed for any sound. He reached Constantine and as gently as he could started rummaging through the imperial robes looking desperately for the Torc. Nothing. Constantine snored loudly, mouth hanging open. Max started to ease the silent figure onto its other side so he could search there. Constantine’s hand flopped onto his shoulder. He carefully replaced the hand and started searching again. At last he had it. He could feel its shape through the folds of rich cloth, hard, metallic and heavy. Desperately trying to stay calm he peeled back the layers of cloth and there it was; its gold shining even in the gloom of the basilica. He could not help himself. Tugging the Torc clear he gave a suppressed a yelp of glee. It was enough to wake Constantine.

  The face he knew and loathed peered sleepily and angrily up at him, ‘What? You! Guards! Guards!’ He might have been drunk but he was screaming his head off now.

  Max stood undecided for a fraction of time, unsure whether to try to silence Constantine or flee. The sound of answering shouts outside made up his mind for him. He turned and sprinted for the door. Outside in the darkness men were tumbling out of the guards’ room grabbing their weapons as they did do. Among them were the girls gathering their clothes and, very wisely disappearing into the dark in the opposite direction.

  Across the courtyard, Max could make out a mass of figures, running towards them, Sigwulf at their head, pursued by a cohort of the Emperor’s soldiers.

  The Saxons turned to fight, all the time backing towards them. Men began falling on both sides.

  Eppilus urged them on. Looking back Max could see the Saxons being engulfed as more and more of Constantine’s men swarmed the courtyard, ready to do battle. Eppilus hurried them away from the fighting, into the dark streets beyond. Making way through the city streets, keeping to the shadows, Max clutched the Torc to him. When finally they reached Antonia’s house the door lay ajar. Max could see lamplight shining through it. ‘That’s our signal!’ Eppilus shouted. ‘I’ll bid you farewell now.’

  Max started to thank him, but Eppilus had thrown the door open, shouting, ‘Quick as you can, Antonia! Constantine knows they’ve escaped!’ Turning back to Max he slapped him on the back. ‘Best of luck to you! With the same luck most of us will not be far behind you.’ And with that he was gone.

  Inside the house Antonia was waiting for them. Her eyes shone at seeing Max again. ‘Here, put these on,’ she urged, handing them cloaks and knives to replace those taken from them. ‘There are horses waiting for you outside the city wall. I know the guards at one of the gates, they should let me through. But if they get wind of the fight at the basilica, they may change their minds.’

  Outside stood a covered wagon. ‘Here, climb up and pray be silent, no matter what happens.’

  The wagon was loaded with fish barrels. Seeing Max’s expression she laughed. ‘Let us trust the guards at the gate have a well-developed sense of smell. Up you get.’ Within seconds Max and Madoc were hidden under the cover, listening intently as Antonia drove the wagon through the dark streets to the city wall, showing all the pluck and ingenuity that had ensured her survival as a woman alone. She hummed a simple song as she drove the wagon through the city streets. Ten stuffy minutes later and the wagon halted. Max heard voices. Several guards approached the wagon. Max’s felt his heart beating almost out of his chest. Sweet as she was, Antonia would be flogged and killed if they were discovered. Just two paces away there were Roman guardsmen flirting with her.

  Antonia was coy. ‘Thank you for your kindness, gentlemen. If you’ll allow me to pass, I have to get home to my son.’

  Despite her story the cover above Max’s head rattled and began to lift. Hand on his dagger, he heard Antonia laughing. ‘What do you think I have under there, my lover? Don’t you trust me? And here I was hoping you and I could meet each other later…’ God, she had more balls than any man he knew.

  The cover dropped back into position and seconds later they were rolling through the city gates. Some distance from the city walls Antonia jumped down from the wagon. Calling them she hitched up her dress and broke into a run, heading for a derelict building. Max and Madoc were behind her, running as fast as their bruised bodies would let them. Two horses were waiting for them behind the house, just as she had described. Antonia hurried them into the saddle. From his horse Max reached down to give her a kiss. ‘We owe you our lives.’

  She smiled up at him, as brave and bold as ever. ‘I could not let our so-called emperor have you. You gave me back my faith in men,’ she said simply.

  ‘Will you be safe?’

  ‘I have more friends in Arelate than Constantine these days,’ she laughed. ‘Now go!’

  When Max looked back over his shoulder she stood watching them, waving until she was out of sight.

  *****

  Clearly it would be too dangerou
s to make for Burdigalia again. Constantine’s men would be on the lookout for them there. Instead they made for Darioritum in the north, hoping to catch a boat with the money Eppilus had supplied. It took five days but finally they were home. Just before the Catuvellaunian border, exhausted, they rested in a small copse of trees. For the first time since their ordeal Max felt safe. Worn out, he fell into his first proper sleep in days.

  Awaking suddenly, not quite sure what had roused him, he felt instantly on guard. Had Guidolin somehow caught up with him? Or was it Constantine’s men? His eyes opened to see Madoc bending over him, the blade in his hand shining in the sunlight.

  Madoc. All those times he had suspected Salvius, the Dobunnic had been there too, somewhere in the background, not too close, not too obvious. Just there. It must have been him the night he was attacked in his room. That night he’d let him live. Now the tip of the same knife was pushing into his throat.

  ‘You look shocked, Maximus? Didn’t you ever suspect me? Poor old Salvius. I can still see the pain in his eyes when you accused him of betraying you. I almost couldn’t keep from laughing. I couldn’t believe how naïve you were, taking me with you from Guidolin’s fort that night. Naïve, arrogant, reckless. You’re too noble for your own good, you stupid bastard. Where’s the Torc, Max? Did you hide it when I went for a piss?’ he leered, his freckled face so close to Max he could smell his breath.

  Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Perhaps he could persuade him…

  ‘You helped me, protected me. You could have killed me that night in my billet, but something stopped you. There was a friendship there, Madoc. You can’t deny it.’

  Madoc pulled the knife tip back a palm’s breadth. ‘You’re not a bad sort, Maximus, for a Catuvellauni. But it was Lupicinius who wanted you alive, then. We Dobunni have to have the Torc at any cost, see.’

  A sudden movement behind Madoc’s head caught Max’s eye. A figure appeared, carefully making his way through the bushes. To his amazement Salvius was moving slowly and silently towards them, gesturing to Max to keep talking.

  ‘It was you behind the arrow attack that day?’

  ‘Nothing to do with me. Or Lupicinius,’ Madoc grunted. ‘Might have been Guidolin. Or Calista. She’s capable of anything, that bitch. Enough talk. Where’s the Torc? Lupicinius can’t become Rex Britannorum without it.’

  It was gratifying to know that Guidolin too had been duped by someone close to him. Max kept his eyes on Madoc, thinking desperately of ways to keep him talking, to give Salvius time.

  ‘So it was a lie, about those brothers of yours? The ones Guidolin killed?’ Salvius was just a few paces away now.

  Madoc shrugged. ‘Nah, they died all right. But they deserved it. Tried to cut me out of my inheritance.’ Not long now. Max could see the blade in Salvius’ hand. ‘Lupicinius got shot of my brothers for me. Promised me rank in the tribe if I’d get the Torc for him. It made sense to have us both protect the Torc till now, but seeing as we’re almost home…’

  Max let his eyes stray a second too long. Madoc whipped around to see what was behind him. But he was too late. Salvius’ knife smashed into him and Madoc crumpled to the ground. Grabbing his knife arm, Salvius punched the Dobunnic in the throat. His blade rose and fell, slicing Madoc’s face as he twisted to escape. A long wound opened up beneath those clear blue eyes, as they ripped open in shock. Madoc began gasping and begging. But Salvius was merciless, raising his blade again and again until finally Madoc pale blue eyes stared up, unseeing.

  Salvius rose, splattered with blood, prodding the body with his foot. There was no sign of life. He turned to Max. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his tone cold, distant.

  Full of shame and gratitude, Max could only lie there. How could he ever make restitution? ‘You saved my life, after I betrayed you. How can I make amends to you?’

  Salvius laughed dryly. ‘I can see it must have looked suspicious. You had a lot on your mind.’ Max squirmed. Even now Salvius sought to forgive the harm he had caused him. His friend was looking straight at him now. ‘Still, you should still have known what was in my heart.’

  ‘You’re right, I should have.’ To break the awkward silence that followed he asked the question he had been longing to ask. ‘How in God’s name did you find me?’

  Salvius grinned. ‘I’ve been waiting for you for days. As soon as I left you in Verulamium, I got to thinking about all the incidents that had made you suspect me. It took me a while but I realised only Madoc could have been behind it. You two had already left by then. So I had to wait. I knew you’d come back this way, so I’ve been patrolling the border. Managed to pick up a couple of sightings of you from people on the road. Then I saw your horses through the trees.’

  He’d always said Salvius could read his mind. Now that ability had saved his life – and the Torc. ‘I feel so ashamed that I doubted you Salvius and yet you do all this for me. Why?’

  Salvius bit his lip, as though uncertain, and then lifted his chin. ‘I will never have a wife or children. They would be no substitute for what I really desire.’ Max tried to interrupt him, but he waved him away. ‘Listen to me. Try to understand. I mean you, Max. I have your friendship, but I can never have you the way I truly want you. So I have you in the only way allowed. Coming after you – I could do nothing but. It gave me a chance to show that I love you, no matter what.’

  It all made sense now, Salvius’s anger at Sabrina, why he clung to his faith, his unfailing loyalty. Max nodded, looking deeply into his dear friend’s eyes, willing him to sense the love he too felt for him, knowing it would never be enough for Salvius.

  After a moment Salvius nodded. ‘No more need be said. Let’s get you and the Torc back to that wife of yours. We are not safe home yet. ’

  *****

  From the moment they crossed the border into Catuvellaunia rumours began that the Torc was home. Before they knew it, Max and Salvius were being met by hordes of well-wishers, desperate to lay eyes on the Great Torc. As they journeyed towards Verulamium, large crowds gathered, forcing them to stop several times to display it. Each time the Torc was raised high the reaction was the same; hushed awe followed by wild cheering.

  The excitement mounted as they rode north. A people's parade began. Musicians started walking behind them, playing fifes and flutes. Autumn flowers were strewn in their path. Soon the sound of the spontaneous procession could be heard a league off. Halfway home a laurel wreath was thrust on Max’s head.

  In Verulamium excited crowds met him in the street. Recognizing their need Max jumped on to a horse cart in the middle of the forum and called for silence. ‘Men and women of Catuvellaunia, we rejoice at the return of the Great Torc. It is not the answer to all our problems, but it symbolizes our new beginning. Make no mistake about it; the tide of the Saxon invaders is relentless, inevitable. If we are to retain our freedom, we must yet build a strong Britain. So mark this - this is not our Torc alone, though it inspires and encourages us, fills our heart with what it means to be Catuvellauni. It belongs to all the tribes. It is only with the aid of our friends and allies that can we build a future worth having. A future where we can all live in peace.’

  From the crowd an old man roared his approval. ‘Thanks be to you, Maximus. You have restored the Torc to its people. You have lifted the curse of the Catuvellauni!’

  The crowd’s joy could not be contained. Maximus watched them, wondering.

  *****

  Inside the House of Vellauni Sabrina rushed out to greet him. He crushed her to him, savouring her sweet smell and her soft skin. Dipping his head he kissed her long and hard then Rhoswen was there too, her arms open wide, rejoicing.

  Paulinus alone was solemn-faced. He greeted him with stunning news. ‘You are home just in time. My informants tell me Guidolin’s army marches in four days’ time. And he does not march alone, Maximus. Guidolin has risen up stronger than ever before. He has allies, powerful allies - the Corieltauvi, the Atrebates, and the Cantii march with him, along wi
th Dye and Calista’s renegades.’ Paulinus looked grim. ‘With those kind of forces, he outnumbers our men ten to one. Let us pray the Torc has not arrived too late.’

  Max spoke with quiet authority. ‘It is not too late, Paulinus. The Torc is home.’

  Paulinus regarded him with quiet recognition. ‘Whatever happened in Gaul, whatever you survived to bring home our treasure, I see it has changed you, my son.’

  Max nodded slowly. Paulinus was right. Somehow he had survived that ordeal. Somehow, by the grace of God, he had kept his promise.

  *****

  Guidolin stared at Lupicinius. ‘You had better be right about the omens this time.’

  Lupicinius struggled to meet Guidolin’s eyes. ‘Reading the auspices is not an exact science, my Lord, even for a seer as talented as myself. We must always calculate for the effect of human action. Maximus changed everything when he rescued the Torc.’

  Unable to control his rage, Guidolin grabbed Lupicinius by the throat, dragging him so that their faces were only a hand’s width apart. ‘Because your man failed!’

  Lupicinius stared at Guidolin, eyes bulging. ‘Madoc could have done no more. He died trying to get the Torc for the Dobunni. Fear not. Artur has shown me that it will soon be ours for the taking. I have secured alliances with the other tribes, done everything in my power to ensure that Dobunnia will rise again, taking its rightful place over all Britain.’

  ‘Make doubly sure those omens are right,’ Guidolin snarled. ‘Because if this invasion fails, you can be certain my vengeance on you will not!’