The Warrior's Princess

  Commios nodded.

  ‘And landfall wherever we end up. I don’t know the coast across there.’ He glanced over his shoulder towards the gently heaving swell behind him. The wind had fallen still further with the darkness but it was backing, blowing off the land behind them.

  ‘One condition.’ Commios raised his hand. ‘You tell no one you have seen us when you come back. If you do the wrath of God will fall on you.’

  The man grimaced. ‘The wrath of my wife will fall on me if she hears where we’ve been. Don’t worry about that, my friend. We tell no one. No one at all.’

  33

  Jess stirred. Something was touching her face. Her eyes flickered open. Above her she could see the canopy of leaves; they stirred a little in the light, casting dappled shadows over her. She tried to move and let out a gasp of pain. Every bone in her body was screaming with agony. She bit her lip and lay still for a moment before trying again. Sweat poured off her, then moments later she started to shiver. Sunlight played over her face and she tried to open her eyes again. Someone was there above her, standing over her. She screwed up her eyes trying to see more clearly. ‘Help me.’ Her whisper was inaudible.

  There it was again. The light touch on her face. She could feel whatever it was moving down her cheek towards her neck. Cold. Sharp. The tip of a sword. He was holding it to her throat. She was shaking now, gazing piteously up at his face. She could see him smiling coldly down at her, his eyes as hard as flint, his head silhouetted against the shimmering leaves.

  Something dripped on her face. She flinched. It was blood. She could see it trickling down the broad flat blade. ‘Please help me.’ She could feel the words sticking to her tongue, cloying. No sound came out.

  ‘Jess!’

  Someone was calling her in the distance. ‘Jess, where are you?’

  ‘I’m here!’ she tried to answer, but it was no use. The only sound was the gentle cooing of a pigeon high up in the trees.

  The stiffened leather straps on his tunic creaked slightly as he moved. She could see his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white.

  ‘Titus,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’ She was sobbing now, soundlessly, tears running sideways down her cheeks into the moss on which she was lying. ‘Where’s Dan? Please, don’t let him find me.’

  He said nothing.

  Then from somewhere close by she heard the low threatening growl of a dog. She tried to move her head, to see. A black shadow hovered near her. ‘Hugo?’ her whisper was almost soundless. ‘Help me.’

  The growl grew louder. Titus half-turned to face the animal. She closed her eyes, holding her breath. When she reopened them he had gone.

  ‘Hugo? Help me.’ She tried to reach out. She felt a moment of warmth and comfort on her hand, a dog’s lick. Then it had gone.

  From somewhere in the distance she heard the voice calling again. It was further away this time. She tried to change her position to ease the pain in her bones and hesitantly, as though speaking a language of which she had little grasp, she began to pray. The effort was too much. Slowly her eyelids closed and she slid gently into the warm darkness where there was no fear and no pain.

  As the sun rose out of the sea behind them the boat ran aground on the soft sand and the two men jumped out. Commios stepped over the side after them, ankle-deep in water and began to haul their bundles out of the boat, throwing them up the beach.

  ‘You’ve done well, my friends. Thank you.’ He gave his hand to Eigon, helping her up onto the edge of the boat. Then he swung her onto the beach. She was smiling for all her exhaustion, energised by the sea crossing. Unable to resist he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Before she had a chance to react he had turned back to the boat. ‘Drusilla?’ He grinned. She was huddled on the bottom boards, groaning, half-hidden by the sail the men had dropped as they coasted in on the tide. ‘We’re there. Come on, up you get! No more sailing!’

  Somehow she sat up and trembling with exhaustion, hauled herself to her feet. Commios lifted her onto the beach and she collapsed clutching her stomach.

  ‘Hope you don’t plan to go back any time soon!’ One of the sailors eyed her in amusement. ‘Not a born sailor, that lady!’

  Commios chuckled. ‘She’ll be fine! Bless you, my friends.’ The fare was already paid but he felt in his pouch for an extra coin or two and tossed them over. Already they were pushing the boat away into the deeper water. ‘Safe journey back!’ The light from the rising sun was shimmering in a scarlet stream across the water, glittering through the mist. They watched as the men hauled up the sail, catching the changing wind to carry them down the coast. In no time at all they had vanished into the haze.

  ‘Right!’ Commios looked round. ‘So, where do we go next?’ He raised an eyebrow at Eigon.

  She shrugged. ‘I know no more than you! Presumably we make our way to a town where we can find lodgings. Then we will start.’

  ‘Start what?’ Drusilla pushed her bedraggled hair back from her face with a shiver. The promise of the sunrise had already gone; the day was turning grey, the wind cold. They were all shivering by the time they turned their backs on the sea and headed up the beach towards the scrubby woodland which topped the low cliffs before them.

  ‘Our mission.’ Eigon tried to smile. They had been heading westward so long, with their goal to reach Britannia. But now they were here it was hard to know what to do next. They didn’t even know which part of Britannia they had landed in.

  ‘At least if we had taken a regular trading vessel we would have put in at a port and been on a proper route,’ Drusilla said sharply.

  ‘And Titus could have been on the next boat,’ Commios reprimanded gently. ‘We can’t be far from somewhere.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s pray for guidance.’

  There was a track at the top of the cliff. They followed it for some time, feeling more and more miserable as the weather grew colder and more windy. They were about to call a halt and find a sheltered spot to make a fire when Commios paused.

  ‘Someone has second guessed us. Can you smell burning?’

  ‘I can smell food!’ Eigon smiled encouragement. ‘Let us hope the natives are friendly!’ She was about to move on when he caught her arm.

  ‘Until we know how friendly, I think from now on we should keep to ourselves who you are and what we are doing here, agreed?’

  She nodded. They both glanced at Drusilla. She shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I am hardly likely to be the one to blurt anything out, am I!’ She pulled her cloak around her shoulders more tightly.

  Almost around the next corner in the woodland scrub they stumbled upon a small encampment of charcoal burners. To their surprise they were made instantly welcome and for the first time in fourteen years Eigon heard the Celtic of Britannia spoken in her native land. The cauldron hanging over the fire contained savoury hare stew, thickened with dried peas and flavoured with wild garlic, in the clay oven there were loaves of bread, and bean cakes. To drink there were jugs of ale. With the head of the family was his wife, their three children and two of his brothers. The men were shy but the woman and the children were curious about their visitors and eager to talk. When they heard that they had come across the sea in a small fishing boat they were awestruck. They were not totally isolated though. They were, they said, part of the Cantiaci tribe and they had been to the Roman settlement Durovernum Cantiacorum. There they said there were people and houses, tradesmen and shops and temples and an open air theatre. It was a huge place, full of riches. Their visitors should go there first, they advised, and then maybe follow the road to Londinium.

  They slept in one of the charcoal burners’ huts that night and next day set off, restored by the rest, towards Durovernum.

  They had expected a great trading town like Massilia. This place was far smaller; although there were good houses and as they had been told shops and temples they found they could walk the breadth of the town in a short time. They found themselves lodg
ings in a private house near the outer walls of the fort. It was clean and neat, owned by the widow of an officer in the XIV legion. A tall, striking woman, Octavia Candida had strong bones, faded fair hair and light blue eyes which betrayed her British origins. As her slaves brought in an evening meal she quizzed them about their travels, eager to hear where they had been. Discovering that they came from Rome itself her eyes widened. ‘Is it as wonderful as they say? I have never been further than Verulamium. I came from the Catuvellauni originally. I expect you guessed that I am British. My husband and I came here when he retired from the legion.’

  Eigon suppressed a little gasp at the name, but Commios gave her a warning frown. ‘So, what is life like in Britannia, lady?’

  She shrugged. ‘After the rebellion it was very tough. So much damage was done. Verulamium was burned you know, by Boudica. All my family there were killed by her followers. She could not forgive those who supported Roman rule.’ She sighed. ‘Even here there was rebellion and fighting as British tribesmen went to her support. But at least this town was not burned. You will see, there is a lot of building going on. We are becoming ever more wealthy. They are constructing new baths and another temple.’ She smiled up at the young slave who was placing the bowls of food before them. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Siluria.’ Eigon had said it without thinking.

  Octavia’s eyes widened. ‘That is a long way.’

  Eigon nodded. She raised an eyebrow at Commios to silence him. ‘My family came from there many years ago. I wanted to go back, to see what was there.’ She gave a disarming smile.

  Octavia shrugged. ‘There is a fort, I know, at Isca Silurum. My husband was stationed there before the battle with Caratacus when they were trying to subjugate the Silures and again after they defeated him. They are a fearsome warlike people, I gather. They still give the authorities much trouble.’ She paused, realising she might have been tactless. ‘I’m sorry. If that is your tribe, forgive me, my dear. It is hard sometimes not to say the wrong thing!’

  Eigon smiled. ‘I can see it is difficult. We have crossed Gaul and things are much the same there. We found hospitality with Roman families and with people of the land. Both were kind, but they were suspicious of one another.’

  Octavia nodded. ‘It is better here. Being on the main road from Rutupiae to Londinium we constantly have travellers going in both directions from every corner of the Empire. That is why I decided to welcome people to stay here. It’s interesting and,’ she shrugged without embarrassment, ‘it augments my husband’s pension. I had a party from Rome only three days ago.’ She paused for the first time, seeming to choose her words with care. ‘Things seem to have been very difficult in Rome since this terrible fire. You knew about that?’

  They nodded. Commios reached for more bread. ‘We were there. It was dreadful.’

  ‘I hear they blame a sect who follow a man called Jesus Christ.’ Octavia picked up the wine jug and topped up their beakers. ‘Nero has exacted a terrible revenge on any he can capture. It seems strange that a man who proclaims himself a god of love should be blamed with so much.’ She shook her head. Putting down the jug, she was not looking at their faces and didn’t notice the sudden tension of the guests at her table. ‘I hear their leader has been crucified, like their god, Jesus.’

  ‘Their leader?’ It was Drusilla who managed to blurt out the question. Octavia looked up and at last saw their anguished faces. ‘Oh, my dears. Don’t tell me you follow the Christ. I am so sorry. I spoke so carelessly.’

  ‘Do you know the name of their leader? Who was it?’

  ‘A man called Peter. The Rock, they said. He was an old man apparently.’ She sighed. ‘Nero has done so many terrible things, but this –’ She paused. ‘They told me he had been crucified upside down, in the Neronian circus. I expect you know where that is?’

  Commios nodded. His mouth had gone dry. ‘It is where Nero goes to amuse himself.’ His voice was heavy with bitterness. There was a moment’s silence. Drusilla and Eigon were holding one another’s hands, trying to hold back their tears.

  Octavia looked from one to the other in deep sympathy. ‘You knew him? But of course you did. Forgive me for having to break such awful news.’ She stood up. ‘Let me leave you alone for a little while,’ she said in a whisper. ‘I am sure you will want to pray for him.’

  Commios looked up sharply. ‘You have had Christians staying here before, lady?’

  She smiled. ‘Of course. As I told you, we have all sorts here. All are welcome to my house.’

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ Commios hit the table with his fist as the door closed behind her. ‘How can he have been caught! Did someone betray him?’ There were tears in his eyes too now. ‘Is no one safe?’

  ‘Perhaps he knew,’ Eigon said sadly. ‘Perhaps that is why he sent us away. And others. If there are other Christians in this country perhaps they were sent by him, or by Paul.’ She gave them a watery smile. ‘At least now he is with Our Lord and I expect he is watching over us at this very moment.’

  Drusilla gazed up at the ceiling nervously. ‘Do you think so?’ She glanced at Commios and blushed. ‘Do you think he can read our thoughts?’

  ‘If he can,’ he retorted sternly, ‘he will know that we are about to pray together for his soul, and that we are thinking only of our duty to spread the word.’ He bit his lip. ‘We have been very remiss in not doing that so far.’

  ‘We had to get here,’ Eigon said sharply. ‘There would have been no point in telling everyone who we were and being caught at the first place we stayed. We had to avoid Titus.’ She shivered. ‘Do you think he will follow us over the Ocean?’

  Commios nodded wearily. ‘Yes, I think he will. So I think we should get away from here tomorrow. This town is obviously the first stop for people who are coming off the boats from Gaul. We need to plan a route across country, away from the main roads, so we can give him the slip for good. I am so tired of always running from this man!’ He thumped the table with his fist again. He glanced from one woman to the other. ‘So, let us pray together now for Peter and our friends in Rome.’

  They bowed their heads.

  As they did so a weary horseman was riding through the town gates, his horse covered in dust, his uniform muddy and salt-stained. He dismounted at the first mansio and beckoned a lounging boy to take his horse. ‘Do you have friends, boy?’

  The young man gazed at him vacantly without deigning to reply. ‘If you have and they want to earn themselves some money present yourselves here as soon as my horse has been fed and watered. I have a job for you.’

  It had worked at every town he had visited across Gaul. Enquiries at every hospes, taberna, mansio or caupona, every temple, every Jewish settlement, every house that had ever been known to take guests, every by way, every crossroads, every ferry. People remembered strangers, even in a town that was used to them. And a man with two women was not that usual on the road. He gave a grim smile. All the time he had been getting closer and now he was so near he could feel them by the tingling in his fingers. He smiled to himself. Perhaps it was time to act. And he would start, of necessity, with Commios. He reached without even knowing he did it for his sword and loosened it slightly in its scabbard.

  Rhodri stood staring down across the folded hills towards his own home, nestling just below his line of sight across the valley. Behind the hills the sky had grown dark. Thunder grumbled in the distance and as he watched he saw a fork of lightning cut across the sky. Where was she? If Dan had her, he could not have taken her far unless he had managed to get her to his car. But there had been no sign of a car parked up on the track. It wasn’t a place that passers-by came to; the only tyre marks were those of his own vehicle and the local tractor and trailer. The more recent tracks were from the police car and from his mother’s. Before that the rain of the last few days had smoothed the mud clean. If Dan had driven up within the last twenty-four hours there would have been signs. Rhodri sighed.

  Supp
osing it wasn’t Dan. Supposing they were guessing completely wrongly? Supposing she had fallen in the steep woods? Or been taken ill. Supposing Titus was there, patrolling the trees.

  He took a deep breath. The only way to search such a huge area was with dogs. The police had felt it was too early to bring in tracker dogs; but he could fetch up the dogs from the farm. He groped in his pocket for his mobile. If there was anything to be found they would know. And while he waited for Megan to bring them over he would go on looking. He ached with misery. His loss was so acute he could feel its presence in his soul. If he had ever doubted it he knew it now. He had fallen in love with her.

  ‘Jess?’ His voice echoed uselessly down the hillside. ‘Jess, are you there, my lovely? Jess –’

  ‘That’s Rhodri calling.’ Steph and Aurelia were standing in the yard as Megan climbed into her car and pulled away to go and collect the dogs.

  ‘He’s devastated,’ Aurelia said thoughtfully. ‘He should have gone back to London by now. He’s singing at the Proms in a few weeks and he said he had a lot of work to do on the piece but he won’t consider leaving while all this is going on. Did you know he was so fond of Jess?’

  Steph shook her head in bewilderment. ‘He does seem to have fallen for her, God knows why!’

  ‘Does Jess feel the same way?’

  Steph paused to think, then she nodded. ‘I think she might. I think she was still fond of Will, but that was all it was. He had hurt her so badly she could never have trusted him again. Poor Will.’ She sighed.

  Come and find me! Where are you?

  A child’s voice came to them from the distance, far away up the track. Aurelia paled. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Steph nodded.

  ‘Is that your ghost?’

  ‘I think so. There aren’t any real children wandering around in the woods.’