The Warrior's Princess

  9

  The gods were with her. She managed to get a flight that same evening. Leaving most of her belongings locked in the car in the long term car park at Heathrow, she settled into her seat with a huge sigh of relief as the plane took off and angled sharply over London.

  She arrived at last at the palazzo in the early hours of the morning. When she climbed out of the taxi, paid the driver and dragged her case to the door the street was, she noticed wearily, as busy as it would be at midday at home. She had no time for any other observations. In seconds she was being enveloped in hugs and escorted up the great marble staircase which led to Kim’s front door on the first floor. Minutes after that she was seated in front of a crisp glass of Frascati and a bowl of pasta in the echoing old-fashioned kitchen.

  ‘So?’ Steph sat down opposite her and leaned forward on her elbows. ‘What happened?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jess took a mouthful of the fettuccine alla marinara, savouring the flavours with delight. She had not eaten since her motorway stop, so long ago it seemed like another era. A warm fuzzy sense of security was beginning to drift over her.

  Kim spooned the last of the sauce onto Jess’s plate. She glanced at Steph. ‘No questions now, Steph,’ she said sternly. ‘Jess is exhausted. We’ll catch up on all her news in the morning.’

  In less than an hour Jess had taken a long relaxing bath and fallen into bed. Almost before her head touched the pillow she was asleep. But her sleep was restless and it wasn’t long before she woke suddenly and lay staring into the dark. Her head had been full of music. Elgar. The voice of Rhodri Price, filling the dark spaces of her brain. Except it wasn’t Rhodri Price, it was Caratacus.

  * * *

  Tall, his strong weather-beaten features drawn with pain, his hair threaded now with silver amongst the thick auburn locks, he was standing in the doorway, his shoulder and upper arm still bandaged from his battle wound, his wrists shackled with heavy iron manacles, staring in towards his wife and daughter. ‘Where is he?’ he asked. ‘Where is my son?’

  Cerys clasped her hands in anguish as he stepped into the room. Behind him the guard slammed the door and they heard the bolt slide across.

  ‘We searched. We searched everywhere. The Romans searched. They put the whole legion to the search –’ Her voice rose in anguish. ‘Eigon hid them in the wood above the battlefield. To keep them safe. But when we looked they had gone.’

  Eigon had started to tremble. She stared at her father in terror, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I told them to hide. I told them not to come out.’

  For a brief second his face was consumed with anger; with an enormous effort he controlled it. ‘They told me. Can we hope our own people found them? Can they be keeping them safe?’

  ‘That is my prayer,’ Cerys said softly. ‘I pray every day to the goddess Bride to keep them safe. You must not blame Eigon. She did what she thought was right.’ Her voice was softened by a smile as she turned towards her daughter but there was a hard edge of pain to it that Eigon heard with a small whimper of unhappiness.

  Caradoc studied his wife’s face. ‘I had no intention of blaming her. Come here, child.’ He held out his arms, awkward because of the chains and Eigon ran to him, leaning against his knees, worming her way into his embrace. ‘You did what you thought was right, sweetheart, and you were very brave.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘And who knows,’ he glanced up at his wife, his face strained. ‘It may be that Togo and Glads are the ones who will survive to fight another day.’

  The music faded and Jess slept again. Next time she woke she went and stood by the window looking out into the darkness, listening to the noises of the night. Her window faced away from the noisy street outside. From somewhere she could hear a tinkling of water, but behind it there was still a distant subdued hum of traffic. She smiled to herself. The Eternal City. She remembered how excited they had all been when Kim had announced her engagement to her Roman aristocrat. They had all vowed to keep in touch for ever, vowed with her, to learn Italian. Jess grimaced at the memory. Kim had become fluent over the years, of course she had. Her own and Steph’s attempts at the language had flagged almost at once. Her promises to herself that she would one day read La Commedia Divina in the original had been ignominiously shunted aside, along with her recognition that her mastery of the language would probably be limited to a few useful phrases mostly involving food.

  When she woke again it was late and she lay staring with delight round the large room to which she had been shown the night before. Too tired to take much notice of the room lit only by a shaded bedside light, she had taken in very little of its detail beyond the fact that it was comfortable and had its own en suite bathroom. Now she found she was lying in a baroque four-poster bed, its curtains open, tied back against the posts with brocade swags; at the windows the threadbare damask curtains were only half-drawn and sunlight poured through onto exotic old rugs filling the room with rich warm light. Climbing to her feet she went over to look out and found she was staring down into a courtyard garden somewhere in the quiet inner heart of the palazzo. The tantalising sound of water she had heard in the night, came, she discovered, from an ornate fountain at the centre of an intricate pattern of formal beds and gravelled paths.

  ‘Are you awake?’ Steph appeared in the doorway behind her. She was carrying two cups of coffee.

  Jess turned away from the window and faced her, pushing her hair back from her face with both hands. ‘This is heaven! I hope Kim really doesn’t mind me turning up at such short notice.’ She realised that for the first time in ages she felt completely safe.

  ‘Kim is delighted. She rattles round in this apartment.’ For a second Steph frowned. ‘I think she is genuinely lonely, you know. It was fabulous when Stefano was alive but now I suspect she only has a few real friends here and most of them bugger off in the summer to go somewhere cooler. I met some of them the other night but most of them were about to leave Rome for the holidays.’ Cradling her own cup she sat down on the bed, swinging her legs. Her feet were bare. ‘I am so pleased you decided to come, Jessie. We’re going to have such fun.’

  Jess eyed her sister speculatively knowing it was only a matter of time before the cross questioning started. Ruefully she was remembering her recent enthusiasm for Wales, her pleas to go to Ty Bran, her longing to paint, knowing how illogical her sudden arrival in the middle of the night must seem. One thing was certain. She was not going to tell Steph and Kim the true reason.

  ‘So, what changed your mind? Why did you decide to leave?’ Steph had leaned back on her elbow amongst the pillows as she sipped her coffee, noting how pale and strained her sister looked.

  Jess set her own cup down on a console table by the window. She rubbed her face with her hands. The music from her dream, from the long car journey was still there, at the back of her brain. She was not going to mention Dan, but she could tell them about Eigon. ‘Did you ever hear a child’s voice at Ty Bran, Steph? Eigon’s voice.’

  Steph sat up again. ‘A voice?’

  ‘Eigon. The daughter of Caratacus!’

  Steph looked confused.

  ‘The ghost! The little girl who haunts your studio.’

  ‘Ah.’ Steph stood up. She paced slowly over to the window and stood looking out. ‘Is this why you changed your mind about staying up there alone? You got spooked.’ Her voice was casual but Jess heard the tension there.

  ‘I suppose I was,’ she acknowledged cautiously. Better by far for Steph to think she had been chased out by ghosts than to know the real reason.

  Steph retraced her steps to the bed and climbed onto it once more, sitting cross-legged against the pillows. ‘Ty Bran is haunted. There’s no doubt about it. I’ve often heard things, sensed things. Not really seen anything.’ She picked idly at the silvery embroidery on the pillow case. ‘But it’s never frightened me. If it had, I would have warned you. I don’t mind at all being up there alone. At least –’

  ‘She didn’t
frighten me.’ Jess sat down on the bed next to her. ‘Not once I got used to her. But she made me sad. She is so lonely, so needy. Do you know the story? Eigon was captured by the Romans with her father and mother. And brought here. To Rome. They were prisoners in chains. But her baby brother and sister were lost in the woods at Ty Bran.’

  ‘Lost?’

  Jess nodded. ‘They were hiding from the soldiers. They captured Eigon, but they never found the other two. At least, I don’t think they did.’

  ‘And you think she is still looking for them?’ Steph shook her head. ‘God that sounds awful. How do you know all this?’

  ‘Rhodri Price.’ Jess grimaced.

  ‘Rhodri?’ Steph stared at her incredulously.

  Jess slipped off the bed again and went to rummage in her bag. She pulled out a CD.

  ‘Elgar’s Caractacus.’ Steph read the label. ‘That’s mine!’ She looked up.

  ‘You might have warned me about him,’ Jess said. ‘I put my foot in it at once by not having a clue who he was!’

  Steph chuckled. ‘Oh dear. Sorry. That would really have upset him. He’s a prickly so and so – much too big for his boots!’

  ‘Isn’t he just!’ Jess grinned. ‘I remembered you didn’t like him much! I think I can see why.’

  Steph dropped the CD on the bed. ‘I’m surprised he was there. He doesn’t stay at the farm much any more. He’s based in London nowadays and he’s always on tour somewhere or another. So, you’ve come to hear him sing? Megan told me he was due to appear at La Scala. But that’s not in Rome …’

  ‘No, I haven’t come to hear him sing! Come off it. It’s not my kind of music for a start.’ The music which was nevertheless swirling and raging in her head; the music which wouldn’t go away. ‘And I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him think I was even remotely interested in hearing him. My God, he might think I was a fan! No, I’ve come to do some research.’ Suddenly she realised that was at least partly true. She wanted to get as faraway from Dan as possible, yes, but she needed to know what happened to Eigon as well. She wanted to find out about the children. ‘I know what happened to Caratacus when he got to Rome, it’s part of history, but I want to know what happened to her. It was Rhodri who told me who she was. He told me about the battle when Caratacus was defeated. After all, he has sung about it, their farm is part of the battlefield. He knows the story. And he got me to listen to a programme on the radio about it all.’

  She repeated the whole story to Kim and Steph as the three women sat over a late lunch at a trattoria near the palazzo. Kim stared at her. ‘Well, of all the reasons for anyone to come to Rome, that was the last thing that would have occurred to me.’

  Steph grinned. ‘I think it’s wonderful. A quest!’

  ‘But how does the dangerous man fit into all this, I wonder,’ Kim went on thoughtfully. ‘Did you tell her, Steph, about Carmella’s warning?’

  ‘What warning? What dangerous man?’ Jess put down her fork.

  ‘My friend Carmella read the cards for you and she said that you were in danger. Your sister here almost had the police out to you when she couldn’t get you on the phone.’

  ‘Really?’ Jess met Steph’s gaze thoughtfully.

  ‘Really.’

  ‘And now here you are with this strange mission,’ Kim went on, her eyes sparkling suddenly. ‘So, who is Caractacus? I know he was a king. I know that much from Rolf Harris! But I didn’t know he was real. I didn’t know he was dangerous. Caractacus I mean, Not Rolf.’ She gave a gurgle of mirth.

  ‘His real name was Caratacus, without the extra c. In Wales he’s called Caradoc,’ Jess said thoughtfully. ‘The Romans defeated him in a battle in the valley below Ty Bran. He was the Welsh leader, a national hero. He was captured with his wife and daughter by the Romans and the Emperor Claudius ordered that they be brought to Rome in chains.’

  ‘Bummer!’ Kim reached out for the wine bottle. ‘And what has this to do with your ghost?’ She topped up Jess’s glass.

  ‘The ghosts at Ty Bran are his daughters.’

  ‘Ghosts?’ Steph put in. ‘Are there more than one?’

  Jess nodded. ‘Eigon and her little sister, Glads. I’ve seen them both.’

  ‘And they died at Ty Bran?’

  Jess shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think so. That is what I want to find out. According to this –’ she fished in her bag and produced the CD – ‘Eigon came to Rome with her parents. In this opera, she is a grown woman. A powerful busty soprano! For me she is a little girl. Unhappy and lost.’

  ‘Your first conundrum!’ Kim pushed her plate aside and stood up. ‘OK. I have to love you and leave you. I have a hair appointment. You two continue your sisterly reunion and I will see you later. Ciao, girls!’

  ‘Right,’ Steph said as they watched Kim duck out from under the pavement umbrellas and thread her way down the street. ‘And what happened to the other sister?’

  Jess shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Steph raised an eyebrow. ‘No, Jess, intriguing as all this seems I don’t think I’m altogether buying this story. You’re not a historian. Come on, I want the truth.’

  Jess glanced at Steph, her eyes hidden behind her dark glasses from the blistering Roman sunshine then she looked down at the table and shrugged evasively. ‘I’ve told you the truth. Now, what is this about reading my cards?’ Firmly she changed the subject.

  Steph shrugged. ‘It was a silly game. One of Kim’s friends does it as a party piece. Reading the tarocchi. She said you were in danger.’ She looked surreptitiously at her sister. ‘She talked about a man trying to kill you.’

  Jess stared at her.

  ‘I told them all that was nonsense, but I did worry a bit. Of course I did. That was why I tried to ring you.’

  Jess tucked the CD back into her bag and reached for her purse. ‘Can we go for a walk?’ She found she was shivering in spite of the heat. ‘Let me pay for this, then I would love to stroll for a bit.’ Thoughtfully she pulled out a handful of euros. ‘Why on earth should someone be trying kill me? Did she say?’ She beckoned the waiter.

  ‘No she didn’t.’ Steph hesitated. ‘She also said something about love.’

  Jess grinned distractedly. ‘What tarot reader doesn’t.’

  ‘Good point. The thing is, you are still together, aren’t you, you and Will?’

  ‘No way!’

  Steph glanced up as the young man appeared at their table. ‘Il conto, grazie.’ Suddenly she was looking worried. ‘He still loves you, you know.’ She turned back to Jess.

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because I was horrible to him. Because I thought he had done something.’ She paused. ‘It doesn’t matter why, Steph. Just take my word for it.’

  ‘Do you still like him at all, Jess?’

  They stood up, leaving the tip on the table. The hovering waiter scooped it into the pocket of his long black apron with a wink. Strolling slowly towards the Corso Vittorio Emanuele Steph glanced sideways at her sister. ‘You didn’t answer,’ she persisted. ‘Do you still like him?’

  Jess shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think we could ever be an item again, if that’s what you mean. Too much water under the bridge.’

  Steph swung her tote bag over her shoulder. The sun was reflecting off the pavement in a dazzling glare of pale stone. Car fumes hung in a haze over the crossroads ahead. The roar of traffic made it almost impossible to make themselves heard. Instinctively they crossed over to the shady side of the street and turned off the main road up a narrow alley, strolling more slowly still towards the Piazza Navona.

  ‘But you wouldn’t mind if you saw him again?’ Steph went on doggedly.

  ‘I suppose not.’ Jess paused. ‘Though I doubt if he would want to see me.’ She pulled off her dark glasses, narrowing her eyes. ‘Why are you asking me all this, Steph?’

  ‘Because he’s on his way. I’m sorry. I should have asked you firs
t. I’m an idiot. But last time I spoke to him he told me how much he still loved you. Well, almost. And I thought … Well, he was up at Ty Bran, wasn’t he and after you rang to say you were on your way, I rang him.’ Steph heaved a great shrug. ‘I should have told you last night. It was sort of Kim’s idea too. She has so much room and we thought it would be fun, and Carmella said you had found love again –’

  ‘Carmella!’ Jess turned to face her angrily. ‘Who is this woman who seems to have such an influence over you? She doesn’t know anything about me! I don’t want Will here! I came here for some peace!’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Jess exhaled hard through her teeth. ‘OK. I suppose it’s not the end of the world. But I am not back with him. I am not wanting to be back with him, and that must be made clear. By you, Steph! I don’t want to be put in the embarrassing position of him arriving and thinking I am going to fall at his feet. Or into his bed. Or have his bags delivered to my bedroom for God’s sake!’ She rammed her sunglasses back on. ‘I have come here to do some research. I shall be out most of the time.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Steph shook her head again. ‘So sorry.’ There was a moment’s silence. They had drifted to a standstill as they reached the piazza and around them people divided and passed them by on the busy pavement. They were surrounded by the smell of food from the restaurants all round them; the sound of water from the three great fountains filled the air.

  ‘When is he coming?’ Jess said, after a pause.

  ‘Today.’

  ‘Today?’

  Steph nodded. ‘Otherwise I could have rung him and told him not to come. He was very keen. He said you and he had had words and he was really sorry and he wanted to make up. Sorry.’

  ‘Stop saying sorry!’ Jess suddenly felt like crying. All the complications were coming back. Those wonderful moments of peace and happiness in her bedroom as she woke to a feeling of complete safety were gone. The wave of betrayal and devastation was swiftly replaced by anger. ‘As I said, I shan’t be there much.’