Masters of Rome

CHAPTER VIIII

The swell had grown to the point that rowing was unfeasible as the oars could no longer be guaranteed to bite into the sea’s undulating surface. The flotilla’s leather sails, however, were full-bellied with a brisk northerly wind that, with muscle-straining coaxing by the steersmen on their oars, was driving the five biremes along the rugged coastline of the peninsula, a couple of miles off their larboard side.

Vespasian held onto the rail on the windward side, enjoying the sea air and the spray thrown up by the ship’s bucking ram blowing into his face. Ahead of him, along the deck the half-century of marines and Cogidubnus’ thirty followers sat glumly looking out to sea; many of the Britons’ faces betrayed how unsuited they were to a mariner’s life.

‘I don’t suppose Sabinus is looking as cheerful as you are,’ Magnus mused, arriving at the rail on unsteady legs and looking slightly pale.

Vespasian chuckled. ‘He’ll be prostrate in his cabin; he’s the worst sailor I know. I think it broke his heart when Plautius ordered him to come and personally take command of his biremes; three days at sea and then back again. He’s convinced that Plautius did it as a punishment for getting himself captured last year. This wind is certainly paying him out for his stupidity.’

Vespasian chuckled again at the thought of his brother’s discomfort and thanked Neptune for the wind with which they were finally making some progress. They had sailed out of the estuary two days earlier and had made little headway, rowing into a stiff breeze. The following day they had fared slightly better as they rowed past a moor perched high on precipitous cliffs and then finally rounded a point and turned from due west to southwest. Having spent the night in the shelter of a river estuary, to which the captive Briton had guided them, they had set out that morning with the tide and their progress had been good; the captive had assured Vespasian and Cogidubnus that they would reach their destination by sunset. During the whole three days of the voyage there had been no sign of any other vessels nor had any figures been spotted on the cliffs or shore. The only life they had come across had been the occasional settlement in an inlet and a small fishing village in the estuary the night before; Vespasian had ordered the inhabitants to be rounded up to prevent them from sending a boat off in the night to warn of their journey. In compliance with Plautius’ orders not to upset the Cornovii, the villagers had been released unharmed that morning.

Looking at the deserted coastline backed by forested hills, Vespasian could quite understand Plautius’ reluctance to move into the peninsula aggressively; the little there was down here would be hard to hold by a force small enough to justify its secondment to such a poor and irrelevant part of the island.

A shout from the trierarchus brought Vespasian back to the moment; bare-footed sailors scampered across the deck and began to climb the mainmast whilst others performed complicated nautical manoeuvres with ropes. Cogidubnus strode over to him, as firm and steady as if he were on a paved road. ‘The captive says that it’s time for us to risk going inshore otherwise we’ll be spotted from the lookouts around Durocornavis, which he claims is only three bays away.’

‘Do you trust him?’

The King shrugged. ‘If we drown, he’ll drown.’

‘It’s not him I’m worried about.’

‘Well, either we take his advice or we announce our arrival.’

Vespasian was forced to agree.

‘He says that the bay before our objective has a natural harbour where we could land in the currachs; it’s about two and a half miles from Durocornavis and is the only safe landing place within seven miles of the settlement. His people keep their boats there; there are some huts but everyone spends the night within the walls of the settlement.’

‘He can pilot us in there at night?’

‘He says that he can. Why did you say “us”?’

‘Yeah, I picked up on that,’ Magnus muttered.

‘Because I’m going ashore to have a look at that rock; if you can only get to it by land then it’s pointless looking at it from the sea.’

‘You won’t have to look at it at all if Cogidubnus persuades the Cornovii to clean off all the vermin from that rock.’

‘Yes, but if he doesn’t then we’ll have to do it and we’ll need to do it quickly; so I have to have some sort of plan in my head. Tomorrow I’ll be sending three of the ships on patrol down the coast to keep an eye out for Caratacus so our presence here will be noted; tonight is my only chance to go ashore and back again in secret. It won’t take long to cover the five miles there and back; I’ll be back by dawn.’

‘I can’t think of anything that I’d like to do less than go and spy on a load of druids.’

‘Which is exactly why I’m not taking you — I couldn’t bear you moaning about it all the time.’

Vespasian blew into his cupped hands, warming them, as Cogidubnus’ men rowed the currach, guided by the captive, towards the natural harbour along a rugged coastline pounded by crashing waves whose spray, caught in the moonlight, rose like repeated explosions of pearls to dissipate into a fine silver mist.

Uneasy at once again coming close to a druidical centre and the horror that he knew could be lurking there, Vespasian tried to console himself with the knowledge that their presence on this coast was still undetected — at least he hoped that it was. To stop himself worrying about it he turned to Cogidubnus, seated next to him in the stern of the small craft. ‘How do you plan to get to see Judoc?’

‘We’ll make our way to his settlement tonight and then wait until dawn when the gates open and we’ll walk in under a branch of truce; he’ll be honour-bound to respect that. No one can kill a man who has come to parley before he has heard what he has to say.’

‘And after?’

‘Then he’s free to do whatever he wishes, but I don’t think that I’ll be in any danger because he’ll understand that in killing me, or handing me over to the druids, he’ll be signing his eventual death warrant.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘I am, Vespasian, don’t worry about me; you just concentrate on getting to the harbour before dawn so that my men can take you back to the ship. With luck I’ll be waiting for them at the harbour when they return in the evening.’

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?’

Vespasian looked at his tormentor, wondering if this was some trick, and then a scorching heat raged up his body. The glowing iron seared through the skin and into the muscle of his thigh and he convulsed in unimagined pain.

‘Well?’ Alienus roared in his ear. ‘What did you have for breakfast?’ He pulled the iron away from the charred flesh, smoke rising from the burn, and repeated his question in a pleasant, friendly tone: ‘What did you have for breakfast on the morning you sailed?’

Vespasian hyperventilated as he tried to work out whether he had heard correctly; another repetition of the question convinced him that he had. With a hiss, the pain hit again. ‘Lentils,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.

Alienus smiled with regret. ‘Lentils? Oh legate, you disappoint me; I would have thought that a man of your rank and dignitas would have held onto such vital information for much longer. I can see that I’m going to have to ask some tougher questions.’

‘Spare me the little games, Alienus; burn me if you want but don’t try and pretend that it’s anything other than revenge for the humiliation that you must still feel because I made you talk.’

‘You gave me no choice!’ Alienus’ jaw clenched and his mouth set firm and he drew the iron slowly down the inside of Vespasian’s thigh.

This time Vespasian resisted the pain as his mind raced and he realised that he had unwittingly hit the mark; he squinted up through watering eyes at the spy. ‘It was you who told me where Sabinus was, remember?’

The iron stopped and Alienus pressed it hard against the soft flesh.

‘Does Myrddin know?’ Vespasian roared, converting the scream that welled up within him into words. ‘Does he know that because of you Sabinus was found and released?’

Alienus thrust his iron back into the fire. ‘And what’s that to do with you?’

Vespasian took a shuddering breath through his nose as the pain subsided; the stink of his burnt flesh clung to the inside of his nostrils. He closed his eyes. ‘It’s nothing to me. But if Myrddin found out that he lost the chance to sacrifice a legate because you told me where to find him in exchange for your life I can’t imagine that he would be that pleased. And if you kill me to prevent me from telling him, then that’ll be another legate that you’ve deprived his altars of.’

Alienus’ fist crashed into Vespasian’s jaw, lashing his head to one side.

Vespasian tasted blood in his mouth; he turned his head back and gave a low, mirthless chuckle. ‘Tricky, isn’t it? Even for a mind like yours.’

Alienus grabbed the iron and thrust it towards Vespasian’s bleeding mouth. ‘I’ll burn your tongue out and then enjoy the sight of you trying to tell your nasty little tale to Myrddin.’

‘I don’t think that you will, Alienus, because you would also have to do the same to Cogidubnus, and Myrddin wouldn’t like that. He knows that Cogidubnus killed the druids in the Vale of Sullis and he will want the King who has defied him in one piece as he will want me in one piece; what use are we as sacrifices if we’re missing bits?’ The glowing tip wavered; there was uncertainty in Alienus’ eyes. ‘You don’t have the authority to do anything to us before Myrddin gets his hands on us and you know it, don’t you?’

‘I should kill you now!’

‘I know you should but you can’t, you can’t even hurt me too badly. I realised that when you just confined your attentions to my thighs. But I can hurt you before I die and I will; Myrddin will know that you betrayed him and he’ll want his revenge. And as you pointed out, Myrddin always gets what he wants.’

Alienus’ eyes narrowed as hatred exuded from them; he pressed the glowing iron hard down onto Vespasian’s shoulder and smoke spiralled up from the cauterising flesh.

Vespasian clenched his teeth and managed to growl, ‘I’d run if I were you. Start looking for a place where you’ll be safe from Myrddin’s wrath because that will be my dying gift to you.’

Alienus pressed harder; Vespasian rode the pain and forced a hard-eyed smile. ‘Where will you be safe from both Rome and the druids?’

Alienus threw his iron to the ground and shouted in his own tongue at the men restraining Vespasian before barging his way out of the hut.

Vespasian was lifted from the table and thrown feet first back down into the pit to land with a spine-jarring thump.

Cogidubnus rolled him over and began untying his hands as the grille was replaced. ‘You were absolutely right: how did you work that out?’

‘When he pretended to be so disappointed with me for telling him so easily what I had for breakfast.’ Vespasian pulled his hands free, spat on them and then placed them gently on the burns on his thigh; he breathed deeply, forcing the pain down. ‘I realised that what I had told him was irrelevant compared to the information that he had given us.’

Cogidubnus started to work on the leather thong binding his ankles. ‘And you guessed that was something that he wouldn’t have boasted about.’

‘Yes, I imagine that he’s never even told anybody that he’d been captured and then escaped.’

A scream from not far off cut through the air, followed by a second and then scores of voices were raised in cries and shouts.

‘It sounds like our friend has just left the settlement,’ Vespasian observed, pulling his feet apart and gritting his teeth at the movement, ‘and I don’t think his hosts were too keen on him leaving so suddenly.’

Cogidubnus lifted his head and listened for a moment; the noise escalated. ‘That’s not the sound of one man escaping; they’re shouting “fire”. Someone’s torching the settlement.’

‘Our men?’

‘Who cares?’

Vespasian felt a surge of hope and the pain in his wounds was pushed aside as the shouting increased and he looked up to see the guards rush off; the first log was in place but the second had only been rolled to the edge of the grille. The tell-tale glow of burning seeped through cracks between the walls and the thatched roof. ‘Now’s our chance; let me get onto your shoulders.’

Cogidubnus squatted and Vespasian swung a leg around his neck; with a grunt the King strained upright and Vespasian grasped the edge of the grille and pushed up. It shifted slightly; he increased the pressure, ignoring the sharp pain from the burn on the inside of his thigh rubbing against Cogidubnus’ unshaven chin. The grille rose up a couple more inches and the single log across it rolled a hand’s breadth; with another mighty effort Vespasian forced his arms up and the log rolled away, leaving the grille free as the sound of fire-fighting grew more intense. He pushed it aside and scrambled out of the pit; after a quick search of the floor he found the rope and threw one end down. Cogidubnus scaled it quickly and then coiled it and slung it over his shoulder; they moved towards the door and pulled it open a fraction. A handful of warriors hurtled past in the narrow lane outside, all heading in one direction.

Vespasian closed the door. ‘We need to get out and then find a way to talk to Judoc.’

‘You can’t go anywhere like that,’ Cogidubnus stated, looking at him.

Vespasian looked about for his tunic and found it, along with his belt and sword, under the table, ripped beyond use; his cloak, however, was still attached to the two spears that had made up the makeshift stretcher. With his sword he cut two armholes in it and flung it around his shoulders securing it at the neck, tied on his discarded loincloth and then fastened his belt about his waist. ‘This’ll have to do.’ He threw one of the spears to Cogidubnus and then kicked over the brazier against the wall; the glowing charcoal scattered along it causing the animal skins to smoulder. ‘The more distractions the Cornovii have the better in the circumstances, I think.’

‘Agreed; pass me that tunic.’

Vespasian chucked the ruined garment over as the first hide ignited.

Cogidubnus held the tunic in the flames; as it too caught fire, he pulled the door ajar, and lobbed it, underarm, through the narrow opening and onto the dry thatch of the hut opposite. Fresh air, sucked in through the gap, fed the fire climbing up the skins, filling the hut with smoke. Cogidubnus waited for a few moments for the fumes to thicken and then flung the door wide, releasing them to the outside. ‘Time to go!’

Vespasian followed the King out, unnoticed under the cover of the smoke belching from the doorway and the flames now raging across the lane. He raced after Cogidubnus, past other blazing, circular huts, surrounded by men trying to combat the flames with buckets of water, and then away from the conflagration into a maze of dark, narrow lanes. The burns on his thigh and shoulder smarted as the muscles worked beneath them and the blood pumping through his veins caused the swelling on his head to throb. The sound of the fire-fighting grew and the narrow lanes became congested with warriors anxious to join the effort. Cogidubnus stepped off to the left, ducking into what was no more than a drainage alley between two lines of huts, and moved along it as fast as the slimy, noisome surface would allow. Emerging from the other end, scattering some panicking chickens, they saw the palisade just thirty paces away; a dark shadow against the bluing sky. With a mutual look of agreement they headed towards it, passing only a few women rounding up errant children and hustling them into the relative safety of their huts. Behind the last abode they spotted a ladder leading up to the walkway, just less than a man’s height from the top of the palisade. Within moments they had scaled it to look down in the direction whence the clamour came; and then another noise from a different direction attracted their attention.

‘Mars’ arse!’ Vespasian exclaimed. ‘It’s not just the fire that has got the Cornovii excited. How did they get here so quickly?’

Fifty paces away, just visible in the weak dawn light, were the two and a half centuries of marines from the flotilla, approaching the open gateway. With an eight-man-wide frontage and protected by a roof and wall of shields, they stamped forward with blades flicking out between their shields, towards a mass of warriors forming up at the gates.

Vespasian slammed his fist against the palisade. ‘The idiots! Who’s the fool leading them? If they get in they’ll be surrounded and hacked to death. We’ve got to stop this.’

Cogidubnus unslung the rope and tied it to the top of the palisade. ‘It’s not long enough but there shouldn’t be more than a six- to eight-foot drop to the bottom of the ditch. Watch out for the stakes.’ He clambered up and over and let himself down; the noise was intensifying as the marines made contact. A mile or so beyond them, a solid shadow in the gloom, the rock of Tagell projected into the sea.

Vespasian glanced over his shoulder — the fire was growing, fanned by a strong breeze coming off the sea — before following Cogidubnus down. The rope reached to just above where the wooden poles of the palisade were buried in the banked earth dug from the surrounding ditch. He let go and slid down the steep bank; Cogidubnus grabbed him as he hit the bottom, preventing him from toppling backwards. Without a word they made their way through the stakes and clambered up the other side and then down into the second of the two ditches that comprised the settlement’s earthworks. Keeping low as visibility grew with the light they scuttled along until they were within ten paces of the rear of the Roman formation. Slingshot ricocheted off the marines’ javelin-studded shields as they advanced steadily towards the gate.

Grasping a sapling growing at the top of the bank, Vespasian hauled himself out of the ditch; Cogidubnus made to follow but the young tree’s roots were not strong enough and he fell back. Vespasian lay down and held out his arm; the King grabbed it as a javelin slammed into the bank next to him; slingshot followed.

‘Get away!’ Cogidubnus yelled, throwing himself to the far side of the ditch out of sight of the warriors on the palisade. ‘I’ll make my own way up.’

Feeling a stone fizz past his head, Vespasian scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the rear of the marines’ formation and barged into the middle of the back rank.

‘Let me through! Let me through!’ he ordered, pushing his way into the second and then third ranks. The startled marines parted just enough for him to squeeze forward without compromising the roof of shields over their heads.

‘Stand by to fall back!’

On he drove, up through the heart of the enclosed formation, repeating the warning, raising his voice against the drumming of slingshot and the growing resonance of combat as he neared the front.

‘On my mark, fall back!’ he yelled upon reaching the cornicen huddled just behind the forward ranks; the marine glanced at him and, recognising his commanding officer, set his lips to the mouthpiece.

‘Now!

The three descending notes of the signal rumbled out and the formation took a step back.

‘Keep a steady, slow beat,’ Vespasian ordered.

The cornicen blew a single note and they retreated another pace followed by another in time to the instrument’s call. Gradually they passed back through the gates, still under a sustained but ineffectual slingshot barrage and still in contact with the enemy on three sides in the forward ranks. But as the foremost rank passed onto the track leading away from the gates the precipitous drops to either side meant the only contact was to the front and the superior fighting technique of the legionaries of the sea began to tell. Fewer warriors were willing to throw themselves at the shield-wall bristling with blood-dripping blades, and by the time the marines had fallen back to the second ditch contact had been broken and Vespasian ordered an increase in pace to the jeers of the defenders.

‘Form line!’ Vespasian ordered as they cleared the second ditch and arrived back on open ground.

Within moments the rear ranks had flooded forward, fanning out to either side to make a block four men deep and sixty across. The defenders pulled back to the gates and the slingshot ceased: stalemate.

In the settlement the fire raged.

Vespasian pushed his way through to the front rank and looked around, fuming. ‘Who ordered this madness?’

An ordinary marine stepped forward and stood smartly to attention, his sword arm smeared with blood. ‘I did, sir.’

Vespasian sighed. ‘I might have known it. On whose authority did you do it, Magnus?’

‘Well, the lads all agreed with me. When the boatmen came back and said that you’d all been captured we reckoned that we wouldn’t be able to get ashore in the same place. However, I heard Cogidubnus mention that the captive had said this was the closest safe place to land within seven miles and seeing as we hadn’t passed a landing place I assumed that there must be one seven miles ahead. So we sailed along the coast not worrying about being seen since they already knew we were here and found the inlet that the captive must have mentioned to Cogidubnus. Then we rowed ashore in two trips and doubled the seven miles back in quick time and managed to get here under cover of darkness ready to storm the gates when they opened at dawn. The rest of Cogidubnus’ men have gone on down to secure the haven for when the ships get back, just in case we have to leave here sharpish.’

‘As I expect we will, now that you’ve managed to piss the Cornovii off by setting fire to their settlement and then trying to kill them.’

‘We didn’t set the fire, sir; that was just a piece of luck.’

‘Luck? Then it’s a weird coincidence.’

‘It is. Anyway it helped to cover your escape. What do you suggest we do now?’

‘Talk to them,’ Cogidubnus said, walking forward with the uprooted sapling, ‘seeing as that’s what we originally came for.’ He strode past Vespasian and on up the track holding the branch of truce and shouting, ‘Judoc!’

There was a stirring amongst the Cornovii and a squat, powerfully built man with a magnificent drooping, ginger moustache and a mane of hair to match pushed his way to the front; he called out in his own language and ostentatiously laid down his sword before walking to meet Cogidubnus between the first and second ditches. Behind Judoc, his followers thinned out as many fell back to fight the fires; but a sizable force of warriors remained to defend the gates.

As the two men started to talk, Vespasian turned to Magnus and said, ‘I suppose you think that barging in through their front door heavily outnumbered was a good idea?’

Magnus shrugged, looking pleased with himself. ‘We came to get you out and here you are, so it must have been.’

‘But now we’ve given away our actual strength and so are negotiating from a very weak position, whereas if you had sent some of Cogidubnus’ men in they might have been able to pass unnoticed through the fires.’

‘But they might not have and by that time it would have been broad daylight with no chance of a surprise assault; so the front door before dawn seemed to be the only option.’

Vespasian found himself unable to argue and he slapped his friend on the back. ‘We’ll just have to make the best of it then.’

‘Legate!’ Cogidubnus called over his shoulder. ‘Judoc wishes to speak with you.’

‘Better go and see what he wants, sir, but I’d dress a little more formally if I was you,’ Magnus suggested helpfully.

‘Yes, all right! Tell centurions Glaubus and Balbus to keep their men alert and then resume your duties as a private citizen.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes; thank you, Magnus.’

‘Ah! I was wondering when you were going to get around to saying that.’

Vespasian pulled the cloak tighter around his body and walked towards the two Britons, well aware that his appearance did not come up to what was expected of a legate of one of Rome’s legions.

‘Legate Titus Flavius Vespasianus,’ Cogidubnus said formally, still holding the sapling aloft, ‘this is Judoc, chieftain of the Cornovii, a sub-tribe of the Dumnonii.’

Vespasian stood straight and looked the man directly in the eye. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance finally, having already enjoyed your hospitality.’

‘The pleasure is mine,’ Judoc replied, pulling his windswept hair from out of his hard eyes, ‘and it’s made more enjoyable by your expression, which tells me that you didn’t expect me to speak Latin and therefore understand the sarcasm in your greeting.’

Vespasian caught himself before he blustered an apology and continued to hold Judoc’s cold gaze.

‘Your treatment was not of my doing, nor did I condone it, and, as yet, I am not willing to apologise for it unless you can disprove the assertion that you were here to kill me. I grant you the privilege to speak under a branch of truce out of respect for Cogidubnus, King of the Atrebates and Regni, even though I regard him as a traitor to our people.’

Vespasian gathered his thoughts, knowing that he had very little time to make an impression upon the man who now held his fate and those of his men in his hand. ‘You have my thanks, Judoc, as well as my sympathy.’

‘Sympathy? Why?’

‘Because you are in an extremely dangerous situation.’

The chieftain burst into laughter, cold and guttural. ‘I have heard of the arrogance of the Romans. You stand here, half naked, on the brink of death, and tell me that I’m in an extremely dangerous situation.’

‘I don’t mean at this moment but in the very near future. Yes, you could unleash your warriors and no doubt in an hour or so they’ll kill or capture all my men, but not before they kill twice their number or more and your settlement has burnt to the ground. And where will that leave you? As a hunted enemy of Rome, and believe me, Rome will not stop until the whole of the Cornovii are either dead or in chains working in your own tin mines, adding to Rome’s wealth.’ He paused whilst Judoc took in the threat. ‘We did not come here to kill you; that was a lie fed to you by a man whom I know as Alienus but you probably know as Verica, grandson of his namesake, the previous King of the Atrebates and Regni. He wants you to fight Rome and lose everything; he, Caratacus and the druids are willing to sacrifice the Cornovii and the whole of the Dumnonii solely to delay the inevitable. Your subjugation will take a year or perhaps two but in the end you will be crushed and you, Judoc, will be dead.

‘But it doesn’t have to be that way; Rome is offering you the chance to keep your freedom in return for two things: an annual tribute of tin and the removal of the druids on Tagell. The raid on our ships will be forgotten because you were pushed into it by the poisonous counsels of your vile priests who serve nobody but themselves. There will be no tax-farmers down here but you will be able to trade in the Roman sphere and your men will be free to join the Britannic auxiliary cohorts and earn citizenship. You are being offered the best of both worlds, Judoc; you can enjoy the fruits of the Roman Empire without feeling the weight of our swords. That’s what Cogidubnus is here to offer you; and I am here to kill the druids if you refuse to do that yourself. We are not here to murder you but, rather, to ask for your friendship. What do you say?’

Judoc was silent for a short while and then turned to Cogidubnus. ‘I heard that before you submitted to Rome you first fought against her, so that it would be said amongst the tribes that the terms of your surrender were written in Roman blood. Is that true?’

‘I wouldn’t have been accepted by the Atrebates as Verica’s heir had I not shown that I was willing to resist the invaders.’

‘And if I submit without showing any defiance then how long do you think I’ll remain chieftain of the Cornovii?’

‘Your honour has already been satisfied; your men destroyed three of Rome’s biremes. No tribe can claim to have sunk even one of her ships.’

‘Three, eh? So it’s true what the only man who returned from the raid claimed before I had him executed for leading you here; and now Rome asks for my friendship because she fears me?’

Vespasian tried to look as solemn as he could, given his attire. ‘Rome does fear a man who can reap such destruction on her fleet and Rome respects such a man. We could in time crush you but we know that it would be a long struggle, so we would prefer, instead, to beg for your friendship; we would honour the man who has fought so bravely against us, with his freedom and independence as well as the title of friend and ally of Rome.’

Judoc visibly swelled. ‘Rome begs for my friendship? Then let it be so, legate.’ He turned and addressed his warriors in what were, Vespasian recognised, boastful tones.

‘He’s claiming victory over Rome,’ Cogidubnus muttered.

‘Let him claim anything he likes so long as it’s not our lives.’

‘He’s now telling his people that they have a choice: either to carry on their valiant struggle for which the warriors on the boat raid gave their lives; or to accept Rome’s plea for a cessation of hostilities in return for the guarantee of independence.’

Vespasian suppressed a grin. ‘It’s the same everywhere: what leader is ever truthful with his people?’

‘With power, truth becomes a luxury and, like all luxuries, it should be used sparingly.’

Vespasian sighed and his mind turned to the imperial politics of Rome. ‘That’s something that I have learnt only too well.’

A cheer erupted and Judoc punched his arms into the air, acknowledging his warriors.

‘I think the Cornovii have graciously consented not to threaten the Roman Empire any more,’ Cogidubnus observed.

Vespasian felt a surge of relief but kept his face neutral. ‘Thank the gods that men can always be relied upon to find a face-saving way to look after their best interests.’

Judoc turned, beaming broadly, and opened his arms to Vespasian, who felt that he had no option but to subject himself to the chieftain’s embrace. ‘My friend, the Cornovii will no longer make war on Rome. However, there is one condition: I cannot be responsible for the deaths of the druids on Tagell but I would welcome their disappearance as they interfere with my people.’

And lessen your power, Vespasian thought. ‘So you won’t hinder us?’

‘I would never hinder a friend.’ Judoc signalled over his shoulder. ‘And to prove what a good friend I am I shall give you a gift when the druids are dead.’ From within the crowd two warriors stepped forward with Alienus, bound and gagged, but walking with pride. ‘This I hope will make up for the execution, on his recommendation, of the men that you brought with you. Their heads will no longer be sent to Arvirargus; instead my message will be that I’ve accepted Rome’s friendship and will explain the terms and suggest that he does likewise. He’s a pragmatic man and dearly loves his horses; I’m sure that he would hate to lose them.’

‘I’m sure he would.’ Vespasian looked at Alienus; defiance burnt in the young spy’s eyes, but he did not struggle. ‘Thank you for this gift, Judoc, I shall be back to claim it. My brother has got just the right place to keep him; he’s going to be very well looked after for the next few years. Who knows, he may even survive into his thirties.’ He indicated over his shoulder to the rocky mound of Tagell. ‘Which is far longer than that filth over there can expect.’

‘I must warn you, legate, that the druids on Tagell have their own protection, and it can freeze the soul. But more than that, Myrddin arrived with them a few days ago and Myrddin is like no other man. He has great foresight and I believe that he’s here because he’s expecting you.’ Judoc pointed in the direction of Tagell. ‘Look.’

Vespasian turned and saw a sight that chilled him to the core: standing tall amongst the few scattered huts on the rock of Tagell, lit by the soft red rays of the newly risen sun, stood a giant, five or six times the height of a man, with a stag’s head and towering horns.

‘That’s been built for you.’

Vespasian stared in awe at the wicker man.