Masters of Rome (23 page)

Vespasian could see the logic of the argument and grimaced as he realised that in all likelihood he would be in more danger than the King. He grasped the hilt of his gladius and checked that the weapon was loose in its scabbard whilst trying to calm his growing fear. He looked over to the two marines sitting in the bow with the four men who would accompany Cogidubnus and prayed that he had chosen steady, stealthy, hard men as his companions.

The captive spoke to the oarsmen in their own tongue and pointed towards the shore; the rocks had started to fall away and Vespasian could see the sea, dappled by moonlight, curl inland. As the currach turned to larboard into the harbour he felt the swell decrease markedly and saw the dim outline of a small island, away to his right, planted squarely in front of the inlet's mouth, sheltering it from the worst ravages of the sea. The oarsmen pulled with vigour, their oars biting into the calmer surface, propelling the boat faster as it snaked left and then right around the rocks, following the looping inlet. As the boat straightened out after the right turn they came to a long thin harbour with no view back out to sea; the rock wall that protected it dulled the constant roar of breaking waves and the creak of the oars seemed to be magnified in this strangely quiet haven. Vespasian felt a chill in the eerie silence as he looked up at the surrounding hills that tumbled down to the water's edge; it was the same chill that had affected him on his approach to the Vale of Sullis. The power of the druids was near.

The oarsmen raised their sweeps and let the currach glide onto the shingle beach at the head of the harbour. The captive
jumped out and steadied the craft as Vespasian, Cogidubnus and their companions splashed into the shallow water.

‘Stay out in the middle of the harbour whilst you wait for me to return,' Vespasian ordered the oarsmen as the currach was pushed back out into the water.

Crunching across the shingle they passed through the collection of currachs drawn up on the pebbles and crossed the wide but low-running river that fed the inlet. Once on firmer, quieter ground, Cogidubnus exchanged a few words with the captive before turning to Vespasian. ‘He says that our paths lie together for the first couple of miles and then we'll veer south to the settlement just before we reach the rock that he says is called Tagell by his people – it means “throat”.'

Vespasian forced a half-smile. ‘Then I pray that I don't get swallowed.'

‘Don't joke about it; that was my thought when he told me.'

Vespasian looked at the captive and signalled him to lead off, following the course of the river inland. Wrapping his dark cloak around his shoulders he hurried after the man, but then stopped abruptly, his hand flying to his sword hilt, as shouts came out of the gloom from all about, followed by rushing, shadowy figures.

He spun around looking for the boat but it had passed out into the middle of the harbour, too far to reach in time. ‘Go!' he yelled at the oarsmen. ‘It's a trap; get back to—' Pain sheared through his skull and a blinding light flashed across his inner vision; then all was darkness.

Vespasian woke to see the half-moon shining down upon him from a sky alive with stars. He felt himself swaying gently; he tried to move his arms but found them to be constricted, pressed into his body. He realised that he was lying in a makeshift stretcher of a blanket or cloak tied onto two spears. He raised his head slightly, grimacing in pain, and could make out the huge form of Cogidubnus walking ahead of him, his arms behind his back – presumably tied there. He cursed inwardly and wondered how the Cornovii had known to expect them. But it was a futile exercise and he closed his eyes and succumbed once more to darkness.

*

Shouting, the grate of iron hinges and creaking of wood woke him and he looked up to see that he was passing through a gateway; the reek of unsanitised habitation sweetened by wood-smoke assaulted his nostrils. After a few score paces his bearers stopped and he heard the rasp of a heavy bolt being pulled back, then a door scraped open and he was carried into a dimly lit hut whose walls were covered with animal skins. Without much consideration for his comfort he was lowered to the ground; he was surrounded by half a dozen warriors, the tips of their spears a couple of feet from his face. One shouted at him incomprehensibly and gestured to the ground; Vespasian sat up and looked to where the man was pointing and saw the gaping mouth of a pit with an iron grille with a rope attached lying next to it. With no choice other than to comply he shuffled forward and, grabbing the rope, lowered himself down its ten-foot length. As he reached the bottom he looked back up; the warriors surrounded the pit's rim, but then two moved aside and Cogidubnus was shoved into view and his bonds were cut. With what sounded like the most virulent of curses the King lowered himself down. The rope was withdrawn, the grille was placed over the entrance and then two huge logs were rolled onto it to hold it firm.

‘Where're our men?' Vespasian asked.

‘I don't know. They're still alive, though; they were taken away as we entered the settlement.'

‘How did they know to expect us?'

‘Again, I don't know.'

‘We'll just have to hope that Judoc listens to you before he does anything rash.'

‘He's under no obligation to parley now as I didn't enter the settlement under a branch of truce and I also came with an invader. He would be well within his rights to disembowel me, take out my tongue and eyes and leave me to die.'

Vespasian winced at the image as voices came from above and someone entered the hut. ‘Well, perhaps this is him; we'll find out how amenable he is to negotiation.'

He looked up; a figure walked into view and squatted down by the grille, holding a flaming torch to illuminate the pit.

Vespasian's heart jumped as he looked into the triumphant, malicious eyes of Alienus.

‘I'm gratified that you look so surprised to see me, legate,' the spy said with a smile spreading across his face. ‘No doubt you thought that I'd be running back to Caratacus with my copies of Plautius' orders?'

‘It was assumed that was what you would do.'

‘Ah, assumptions; dangerous things, wouldn't you agree, legate, seeing as you're in your present predicament because of one? Did Plautius really think that he could cancel the orders that I purloined and I wouldn't realise that he knew I had them – that he must have let me have them?'

‘It had crossed my mind.'

‘And yet here you are as I knew you would be when I read Plautius' obvious attempt to lure Caratacus out into the open. I was intrigued to know what he would try to set up if I went back to get more of his misinformation and he didn't disappoint me; it might even have been construed as clever had he tried it on a lesser mind than mine. Unfortunately for him and you I didn't waste time taking the rubbish to Caratacus but instead rushed straight here to await your arrival. And you've duly obliged me; more than that, you've brought my usurping cousin with you. That, I confess, I didn't expect; it's almost too delicious to be true.'

Cogidubnus showed no emotion as he stared steadily at his cousin. ‘Don't let your enjoyment run away with itself and cloud your already suspect judgement, Alienus; if I were you I would think carefully before deciding how to treat us. Judoc won't thank you for killing us and bringing down Roman retribution upon him and his people.'

‘Judoc!' Alienus sneered. ‘What does he know? As far as he's concerned you were sent here to kill him.'

‘Is that what you told him?'

‘Of course; and your prompt arrival proved me to be correct and he's got no reason to disbelieve my assertion that he's not the only leader who's been targeted. At dawn he's going to send a
message to Arvirargus warning him that assassins in Rome's pay are on their way to kill him; your comrades' heads are, as we speak, being removed from their bodies to send as proof of the attempt on Judoc's life. Arvirargus and Judoc will now fight because they think that they have no alternative if they wish to remain alive; so unless Rome wants a permanent thorn in her southwestern flank, she'll have to commit a legion to subduing the area.

‘How are you going to progress north and west with only three legions whilst at the same time holding the lands that you've already gained and keeping those tribes down now that your rapacious tax-farmers have been let loose amongst them? Move yet more troops from the Rhenus and leave Gaul even more open to all those nasty Germans? I think not.' Alienus stood and assumed a look of innocence. ‘My game, I believe. I shall see you later, gentlemen, once I've composed a suitably disconcerting message for Judoc to send to his king concerning Roman assassination attempts. I've a little score to settle with the legate before Judoc hands you over to the druids so that Myrddin can decide what to do with you. I don't know about you but I've a curious feeling that Myrddin's going to get his sacrifice after all.' He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. ‘But then again, Myrddin always gets what he wants.'

Vespasian sat hunched against the pit wall and drifted in and out of uneasy sleep during the next few hours of the night whilst Cogidubnus paced back and forth. Their attempts at shifting the logs weighing down the grille had proved fruitless: the guards had laughed at them and had not even bothered to crack their spear shafts down on Vespasian's exposed fingers as he sat on Cogidubnus' shoulders.

The imminent arrival of dawn was heralded by sporadic birdsong and a persistent cockerel close by; a torch flickered overhead and a stale loaf of bread and some meat of unknown provenance were thrown down through the grille.

‘What do you think the chances are of a rescue party making it ashore during the night?' Cogidubnus asked, doing his best with a lump of gristle.

Vespasian shook his head. ‘They've got five currachs plus the launches on each of the biremes but where would they land? Alienus would have left a force watching the harbour, and the last beach that I noticed that was suitable for a landing was at least twenty miles back.'

Cogidubnus gave up the struggle and spat out a semi-chewed mess. ‘Yes, that's how I figured it; even if they did that there's no way they would get here overland before we're handed over to the druids. And without a local pilot they wouldn't know where was safe to land further southwest until daybreak. I'm afraid that we have to find our own way out of this. I don't fancy a meeting with these druids: Myrddin will have heard that it was me who killed his brethren in the Vale of Sullis and I'm sure that he'll enjoy his revenge.'

Vespasian did not bother to voice his agreement. ‘Who is Myrddin?'

Cogidubnus betrayed the first sign of fear that Vespasian had ever seen on his face. ‘He's the chief druid in Britannia; the man who possesses all the secrets of their power, which he will hand on to his successor along with his name once he has been found.'

‘Found?'

‘Yes, the druids believe that when they die they are reincarnated in another body, that's why they don't fear death; therefore previous Myrddins are always being reborn. It's the present Myrddin's duty to identify a previous Myrddin amongst all the new initiates so that he can train him and pass on his lore so that Myrddin is, to all intents and purposes, immortal. The present one is probably here to judge the new initiates.'

‘Immortal like a god.'

‘Yes, sort of like a god.'

‘Do these druids have another god like Sullis?'

‘I've no idea but they'll have something to keep them there, otherwise there wouldn't be so many of them clustered on that rock.'

Vespasian felt his stomach turn and knew that it was not due to the poor quality of the food. A noise from above diverted his attention.

‘I expect that you're regretting keeping your word and letting me live, legate?' Alienus mused, looking down from above, holding in a leather-gloved hand an iron, glowing like the dawn sun, soon to rise outside.

Vespasian struggled against the four men who pinned his shoulders and legs to the wooden table as he had struggled against everything that had happened to him since being forced at spear-point out of the pit. He had fought against the warriors who had eventually managed to tie his hands behind his back; he had kicked out at the men who had secured his legs together with leather thongs. Blood dripped down his forehead from where he had managed to head-butt the first man who had attempted to rip his tunic off – a second man had succeeded with no more than teeth-marks in his hand – and the warrior who had removed his loincloth now had a broken jaw from a double knee-jerk that had left both him and Vespasian sprawling on the floor. But now he had been lifted, writhing and bucking, onto the table and, despite his efforts, he realised that he was now helpless; he ceased to battle and lay, his chest heaving, naked apart from his sandals, looking at Alienus and the red-hot terror in his hand.

‘Well, legate, you seem to be even less keen to have your flesh burnt than I was,' Alienus observed, thrusting the iron back into the heart of a mobile brazier. ‘Perhaps it would make it easier for you if you were given some questions to answer, as I had to; then it wouldn't be just mindless torture for the sake of it. Yes, answering questions will give a sort of validity to the exercise – an air of respectability, if you will – and it'll give us both a purpose; me to find out what you know and you to withhold the information like a soldier should.'

Vespasian spat at the spy but missed.

‘I wouldn't try to make me cross if I were you; it might jog my memory about which part of my anatomy you threatened to sear off. Now, where were we? Ah yes, questions. What to ask? The trouble is that there are very few things that I need to know from you.' He pulled the iron from the fire, its tip now as yellow as the midday sun, and brought it close enough to the outside of
Vespasian's right thigh for it to singe the hairs upon it. ‘I know what I want you to tell me: on the morning that you sailed out of the estuary,' he leant in closer, ‘what did you have for breakfast?'