When the seas calmed with the coming of a new year, a liburnian flying Constantius’ pennant rounded the Isle of Tanatus and beat up the estuary of the Tamesis to Londinium. The scrolls she carried bore a simple message. Diocletian and Maximian Augustus called upon Carausius to renounce his usurpation of the province of Britannia and return to his allegiance. He was summoned to Rome for trial. If he refused, he must prepare to face their wrath, with all the power of the Empire behind it.
The Emperor of Britannia sat in his office in the Governor’s Palace in Londinium, gazing down at Diocletian’s message with unseeing eyes. He no longer needed to read it—he had memorized the words. Within the palace all was silence, but from outside there came a murmur like lapping waters, which periodically swelled to a storm.
“The people are waiting,” said Allectus, who was sitting nearer to the window. “They have a right to be heard. You must tell them what you intend to do.”
“I hear them,” answered Carausius. “Listen—their noise is like the roar of the sea. But I understand the ocean. The men of Londinium are far more fickle, and more dangerous. If I resist this demand, will they stand behind me? They cheered when I assumed the purple. I have brought them prosperity. But I fear they will greet my conqueror with equal enthusiasm if I fall.”
“Perhaps,” Allectus said evenly, “but you will not win them by indecision. They want to believe that you know what you are doing; that their homes and livelihood will be safe. Tell them that you will defend Londinium and they will be satisfied.”
“I want more than that. I want it to be true.” Carausius pushed back his chair and began to pace across the mosaic floor. “And I do not think that purpose will be served by camping across the Dubris road with my army and waiting for Constantius to come.”
“What else can you do? Londinium is the heart of Britannia, from which its lifeblood flows, or why else did you establish a mint here? It must be protected.”
Carausius turned to face him. “The entire land must be protected, and seapower is the key to defending her. Even strengthening the forts of the Saxon Shore is not the answer. I must take the battle to my enemy. He must not be allowed to land so much as a single legionary on these shores.”
“You will go to Gallia?” asked Allectus. “Our people will think you are abandoning them.”
“The sea base of Gesoriacum is in Gallia. If Constantius takes it, our forward defense is lost—and with it the shipyards, and the supply lines that link us to the Empire.”
“And if you lose?”
“I beat them before….” Carausius stood still, fists clenching.
“Your fleet was fresh from fighting the Saxons then, at the peak of its efficiency,” observed Allectus. “Now half your marines are in the north reinforcing the garrisons on the Wall. Will you call on your barbarian allies?”
“If I must—”
“You must not!” Now Allectus was on his feet as well. “You have given up too much to them already. If you win by their aid they will want more. I am as dedicated as you are to maintaining Britannia in freedom, but I would rather be ruled by Rome than by Saxon wolves!”
“You are being ruled by a Menapian now!” Carausius could hear his own voice rising and fought for control. “Britannia’s governors have come from Gallia and Dalmatia and Hispania; the Legions that defend you bear foreign names.”
“Perhaps they were born barbarians, but they have been civilized. They recognize that this is a Celtic land. The Saxons care only to fill their bellies. Their breed will never take root in British soil.”
Carausius sighed, remembering how the priestess had shed his blood to feed the land. “I will go south, where the people still remember how I saved their homes, and raise men to sail with me to Gesoriacum. You understand these merchants of Londinium, Allectus. Stay here and rule in my place while I am gone.”
A swift, unexpected flush came and went in the younger man’s sallow cheeks. Carausius wondered why. Surely, after all this time, Allectus must know how the Emperor trusted him. But there was no more time to worry about anyone’s feelings. He opened the door and called for his clerk, already marshaling the instructions that must be given before he could depart.
On the Tor, the beginning of summer was customarily set aside for dyeing the skeins of flax and wool that had been spun during the long winter. It was the tradition also for the Lady of Avalon to assist in the labor. The reason given was that she might thereby set an example for the maidens, but it had always seemed to Dierna that the custom had been retained because by the time one became high priestess the task of preparing the dye and dipping the yarn was a welcome diversion from her other responsibilities. Not that the work was simple—to mix the dyestuffs correctly and time the immersion to produce just the right shade of blue required experience and a good eye. Ildeg was their dyemistress, and Dierna was content to work under her direction.
Several skeins of wool already swung, dripping, from the branches of the willow tree behind her, its bark still faintly stained from having served the same purpose the year before. Farther along the bank of the stream other cauldrons were steaming. Ildeg walked from one to another, making sure that all was done correctly. Little Lina, who was assisting Dierna, brought two skeins and laid them on the mat, then added another piece of wood to the fire. It was important to keep the liquid simmering without allowing it to boil.
Dierna hooked up one of the skeins and lowered it carefully into the pot. The dye was woad, in this light as deep a blue as the waves of the open sea. She had only once been out of sight of the land, when Carausius took her out into the Channel on his flagship. He had laughed at her ignorance and said she needed to understand the waters that protected her beloved isle. She looked into the cauldron and saw the sea once more, her dipper creating the currents that flowed through it, and the white froth on the waves.
Carausius might be at sea even now, she thought, fighting his battle. Word had come that he was on his way to Gesoriacum with every ship he could command. But he had not taken Teleri, and even if the priestess had seen something in vision that would be helpful, without another trained priestess to receive the message, or the ritual of preparation and the sacred herbs to increase her own power, she had no way to communicate what she saw. She had not expected to care so much whether she knew what was happening.
“Pull the wool out now, my dear, or it will be too dark.” Ildeg’s voice startled Dierna back to awareness of the present. She lifted the skein and carried it, steaming, to the willow tree, and Lina went off to get more.
Dierna took a deep breath before dipping the next one, for the acrid fumes from the dyepot could be dizzying, then carefully lowered it into the deep-blue sea…. A leaf fell and drifted in lazy circles on the surface. The priestess started to lift it, then dropped the dipper with a soft cry. It was not a leaf, but a ship, with a dozen more around it, appearing and disappearing through the swirling steam. She gripped the rim of the pot, unaware of the heat that seared her palms, and bent closer, desperate to see.
Her vision was as that of a seabird, circling the ships that battled below. She recognized Orion and some of the others. Even if she had not known them by sight, she would have known them by the speed and agility with which they moved. The remaining ships—bigger, heavier, and more clumsily handled—must be the Roman enemy. Behind them she could make out a long sandspit; the engagement was taking place inside a great harbor, where the British superiority in ship handling gave little advantage. How had Carausius allowed himself to be trapped this way? His fight against Maximian’s Armorican fleet had been a test of seamanship, but as one Roman after another managed to grapple and board her victim, it became clear that this battle would be won by brute force, not skill.
Flee! her heart cried. You cannot win here, you must break free! Dierna strained downward; for a moment she saw Carausius clearly, a bloody sword in his hand. He looked up. Had he seen her? Had he heard? Then a tide of red rolled across her vision. The sea was turning to
blood! She must have screamed, for in the next moment she heard voices calling her name as if from a great distance, and felt soft hands pulling her away.
“It’s red…” she whispered. “There is blood in the water—”
“No, Lady,” answered Lina, “the dye in the water is blue! Oh, my Lady, look at your hands!”
Dierna gasped at the first pulse of pain. Then the others were gathering around her, and in the tumult of dressing her wounds, no one thought to ask her what she had seen.
The next morning she summoned Adwen to pack for her, and Lewal and one of the younger Druids to escort her, and the men of the marshes to pole them through the mists to the outer world. There was that in her manner that defied questioning, but in any case she dared not speak of her vision, if indeed it had been a true Seeing and not a fancy born of her fears. If Carausius had been defeated, either he himself or word of his death would come first to Portus Adurni, and it was there that she must go. If he lived, he would need her help. She had to know.
The journey took them a week of hard traveling. By the time they reached Venta Belgarum, Dierna’s hands were healing and one anxiety had been replaced by another. Bad news spread like the wind, and all of the west country knew that a great battle had taken place at Gesoriacum. Throughout one night Dierna tossed sleepless, too anxious even to seek him on the spirit-roads, not knowing if Carausius had survived.
In the morning more news followed: the flagship had made it home with the Emperor on board, but the ships that followed him were pitifully few. The fleet that had struck fear into the hearts of the Saxons was lost, along with most of the men who had manned it, and Constantius Chlorus was gathering a force to invade Britannia. Everywhere men were murmuring. Men who had profited under the rebel regime feared to lose all they had gained. Others shrugged, unconcerned at the prospective change of masters, or speculated on the rewards in store for those who helped the invaders.
But whatever the Romans did about the others, if Constantius conquered there would be no mercy for Carausius. Dierna’s pony tossed its head and broke into a trot as she urged it forward.
The air at Portus Adurni seemed heavy, despite the fresh wind off the sea. Dierna thought that she would have known there was trouble even if she had not heard the rumors. The atmosphere in the fortress was not yet that of defeat, but she could almost taste the apprehension. It was significant that the officer in charge made no objection when she asked to see the Emperor. She was a civilian, with no business on a military post in what would soon become a war zone. But it was clear that the forces Carausius retained were desperate enough to welcome even whatever nebulous help a native witchwoman might bring.
He was leaning on a table on which a map of Britannia had been spread, moving chips of wood back and forth as he calculated movements and dispositions. There was an ugly gash on his cheek and a bandage around one calf. For a moment Dierna stood in the doorway, so weak with relief at the sight of him that she could not move. Then, though she had made no sound, he looked up.
“Teleri?” he whispered. Dierna took a step forward, turning so that the light fell full upon her. Carausius blinked, the hope that had for a moment animated his face giving way to something else, perhaps fear.
Why should I be surprised? she told herself, willing her pounding heart to slow. I wanted him to love her. I should not have come…. But he was already moving toward her.
“Lady,” he said harshly, “have you come to prophesy good fortune or despair?” His gaze had steadied, but it was the calm of a man who wills himself to face his doom. Was that what she was to him? She bit her lip, realizing that was all she had allowed herself to be.
“Neither. I came to help you if I can.”
He frowned, thinking. “You have come swiftly if you were on Avalon. Or did Teleri send—” As she shook her head she saw the sorrow, swiftly veiled, in his eyes.
“Is she not here with you?”
“She is in Durnovaria, with her father.” There was a short silence.
Now it was Dierna’s turn to frown. It had been clear, at Aquae Sulis, that Teleri was unhappy. But the situation must be worse than she thought. She blames me for it, she realized then. That is why she would not talk to me. But there was nothing she could do about Teleri right now. Suppressing her unease, she came to his side and looked down at the map.
“Where do you think Constantius will land, and what forces can you bring to meet him?”
“His first concern must be to take Londinium,” said Carausius. She could see that to discuss the problem gave him a measure of comfort. It was action, of a sort, and this was not a man to accept his fate meekly, as the Christian priests enjoined their followers.
“He might strike for it directly,” he continued, “but a landing would be difficult if the city is defended. Constantius might try instead to land on Tanatus and march across Cantium; however, he knows the southeast supports me strongly. If I were in his place, I would try a two-pronged attack and land the second force elsewhere, perhaps between here and Clausentum. Allectus’ subsidiary mint is here, and it would be wise to seize it as soon as possible.”
As he spoke he moved the colored counters around the map, and for a moment Dierna saw, as if she were gazing into the sacred well, soldiers marching across the land. She shook her head to rid it of the fancy, and focused on the map once more.
“And you are mustering your defenses?”
“Allectus holds Londinium,” he replied. “I have stripped the garrisons on the Wall to the bone, and those forces are marching south to reinforce her garrison. I will put more men here, and in Venta as well. We must base our defenses on the cities. Except for the naval fortresses, we have no forces in the south. Since the time of Claudius, the fighting has all been on the coasts and the northern border, and there has been no need. You could help me, if you would, by going to Durnovaria and asking Prince Eiddin Mynoc if he will raise a war band from among his young men.”
“But Teleri—”
“Teleri has left me,” he said flatly, confirming her fears. “I ask no condolences. You know better than any that our marriage was only the symbol of an alliance. She never wanted me, and I never really had the time to try and win her. I wish I could have made her happy, but I would not hold her against her will. Yet I still need the alliance, and I cannot ask her to plead for me.”
His face had that complete absence of emotion that masks deep pain. Dierna bit her lip, knowing better than to insult him with sympathy. She had arranged the marriage, as she thought, for the good of all, but the result had been to hurt the girl she loved as a sister and the man whom she—respected? Could respect account for the way she felt now? She told herself that her own feelings did not matter. There was too much to do.
“I will go, of course,” she said slowly, wondering if Teleri would be willing to talk to her now. “But I would feel better,” she added, “if you put someone else in command of Londinium.” She was not quite sure what was bothering her—was it something Allectus had said at Corinium?
“A more experienced officer?” asked Carausius. “Allectus knows enough to be guided in military matters by the commander of the garrison. It is the civilian population which must support our cause, and Allectus is on excellent terms with every merchant in Londinium. He will be able to persuade them if anyone can. I trust him all the more just because he is not regular Army. An officer of long service, faced with Caesar’s legionaries, might remember that his first oath was to Diocletian. But I am certain that Allectus will never willingly give Britannia back to Roman rule.”
“You are right,” Dierna said, thinking of royal bloodlines, “but is he as loyal to you as he is to this land?”
Carausius straightened, looking at her, and she stilled, aware of a sudden tension between them.
“Why,” he asked tiredly, “should that matter to you?”
Dierna stood silent, unable to answer him.
“You didn’t want an emperor for Britannia, you wanted a Sacre
d King,” he went on. “You called me to this isle by your magic and gave me a royal bride; you persuaded me to forsake my oath of allegiance and my own land. But Allectus belongs here. He will never disgust you by wearing the garments of a barbarian….”
He too was remembering how they had argued in Corinium. The sadness in his smile wrenched her heart, but in the next moment she recognized in his eyes not only pain but pride.
“I may be barbarian born, my Lady, but I am not stupid. Do you think I did not understand that I was only your tool for the defense of Britannia? But a tool can break, and when it does, the craftsman takes up another. Can you face me and say that you will cease trying to free this land from Rome if I should fall?”
Dierna felt her own eyes sting unexpectedly with tears, but she could not look away. His patience demanded an answer.
“No…” she whispered at last, “but that is because it is the Goddess who wields the tools, and I also am in Her hand….”
“Then why do you weep?” He took a step toward her. “Dierna! If we are equally bound, then will you just this once cease trying to manipulate everyone according to your own notions of duty and give truth to me?”
The truth…, she thought desperately. Do I even know it? Or is duty all I can allow myself to see? “I weep,” she said at last, “because I love you.”
For a moment Carausius was completely still. She saw the tension go out of him, and his head bowed.
“Love…” He whispered it as if he had never before heard the word.
And why should he love me? she wondered then.
“It makes no difference,” Dierna said quickly. “You asked and I answered.”
“You are the High Priestess of Avalon, as holy as one of the Vestals in Rome.” He looked up at her, and she flinched from the intensity of emotion suddenly revealed. She had no right to expect love from him, but she did not think she could bear his hatred. “To say that what you feel means nothing demeans you, and me.” Carausius continued to stare at her, as if her features were a book written in some strange language that he was trying to read.