After Rome (41 page)

“They had been living together for a long time.”

“You could probably smell Cadogan on me,” Quartilla interjected.

Dinas tried to recall the exact sequence of events. Trying to make it clear again, to find his way through horror to truth. “I waited for some word from Vintrex but none came. Eventually I went to Viroconium myself to learn what he intended to do. When I reached the city he was not there, but the barbarians had been.”

Cadogan said, “At least that explains why Father went to Londinium: to bring charges against Ocellus and arrange for his arrest. Ocellus was an important man and everything had to be done at the highest level. It must have been very painful for Father; they were brothers after all.”

Quartilla could not bear being left out of the conversation. “You found me after you left Viroconium, Dinas. Now I know why you seemed so distracted. I'm not used to having men ignore me the way you did then.”

He was not listening. “Are you sure my father was innocent, Esoros? He had a temper, I know because I've inherited it.”

Esoros was unwilling to have his triumph over evil credited to someone else. “Mine was the hand that held the knife,” he insisted. “Ocellus was no longer at their villa; he had abandoned her because she was communicating with Vintrex again.”

“Father always said Ocellus was a shrewd man,” said Cadogan. “Perhaps he decided to leave Britannia altogether, before the situation with the foreigners grew any worse. By now he might even be—”

“You can say ‘dead,'” Dinas interrupted. “I've heard the word before.”

“Enough talk of death and dying. There's
life
here, Dinas,” Cadogan stressed. “Stay with us! You know most of the people in our settlement. We'll help you forget these terrible things.”

“What if I don't want to forget them? If I forget Gwladys, and Meradoc, and the stallion … if I forget them I'll lose them, and I refuse to do that. I'll take them with me until I die.”

Cadogan knew that resolute face; there would be no talking Dinas around. He still felt pity for his cousin, yet envy, too. Whatever came, Dinas would experience it to the full. He was not a man for the rolling hills and the snug little forts. His were the mountains and the abyss.

Esoros was watching the same face. Tardily he realized the full import of the confession he had made. He had killed this man's mother. Dinas did not look like the sort of man who would forgive.

Esoros began to back toward the door. Dinas raised one eyebrow.

The steward's nerve broke; he turned to run. Dinas caught him in one long stride and lifted him by the neck until his heels drummed the air. “Murderer,” Dinas said in a deadly soft voice.

Quartilla made a little sound of protest.

“I could crush his throat and strangle him,” Dinas remarked as if he were making casual conversation. “What do you think, Cadogan? Would I be justified? With Vintrex dead, is there a magistrate who would find against me?

“I've killed before, it isn't difficult. But you know that from experience, Esoros. Did my mother beg for her life? I suppose my father had taken the servants with him. Was there no one left to defend her when you came like a thief in the night?”

Esoros was making desperate squawking sounds.

Dinas lowered him—slowly, almost gently—until his feet touched the floor. But he kept his hands around the man's neck. “I'm not going to kill you, Esoros. When I knelt beside that grave on Tintagel…” He paused to compose himself. “Tintagel is a strange place and it can have a strange effect on a man. That's why I'm going to let you go. Run as far as you can, as fast as you can, but don't look back. Never look back. Because I might change my mind, and I can find you wherever you are.” Dinas smiled. The smile of the wolf with its teeth at the throat of its prey.

He opened his hands and released the man's neck.

Esoros swayed on his feet, choking. Gazed wildly around the room. Turned and fled from the fort.

The three who remained looked at one another.

“That was a cruel thing to do,” said Cadogan. “Almost worse than if you'd killed him. He'll be terrified for the rest of his life. Every time he hears someone behind him…”

“Yes,” said Dinas.

He stayed with them for three more days. Esoros did not return; no one had seen him and Cadogan did not expect him. There were plenty of dangers waiting for a man alone and inexperienced at self-defense. Barbarians and wolves and accidents and ordinary people who were afraid of any stranger and might react with violence. Dinas did not need to take revenge. It would be done anyway, in its own time.

On the morning when Dinas was preparing to leave, Cadogan inquired, “Have you thought about going to the high mountains to be with your friends?”

His cousin responded with a negative shake of his head. “Other men's lives,” he said dismissively.

“What about your own life?”

“I intend to live it. Hand me that lead rope, will you? I'll ride the bay today and lead the mare. The yearling colt will follow her.”

“When will we see you again, Dinas?”

He gave a careless shrug. “I can't answer that, Quartilla. Maybe next month, maybe never. I'm looking for something, and I'll have to keep going until I find it.”

“What is it?”

“I don't know that either,” Dinas replied. Gazing past her to the meadow, the trees. The far distance.

Cadogan and Quartilla stood together outside their door and watched him ride away.

*   *   *

I left them there in their little fort, with their future planned and as predictable as a future can be. Hard work and a modicum of security; children perhaps. Cadogan would make a good father. As for Quartilla … who knows what depths are in that woman? She will continue to surprise and infuriate him to the end of their days.

Summer fading into autumn and the harvest. And then winter. For them, for me, for all of us.

I am happy for them, though I do not want what they have. It is my fate to seek an elusive prize without a name, perhaps even without substance. Yet I know it exists. The irresistible pull it exerts on my spirit is proof of that. I have sought it in the wrong way and learned a terrible lesson, but someday I will find it. I have faith.

Faith. “Fides” in the Latin language. What a slippery word that is! It translates as trust, confidence, belief. The belief of simple people who do not know the larger truth of existence; people who do not realize the great pattern underlying everything because they have not seen it in action.

I have seen it in action. Yet I too have faith.

While my search continues the dark yearling is growing up. His training goes well, he is becoming a fine stallion like his sire. If I am not happy at least I am content, which is perhaps the greater gift. My life is full. I ride across the land and sleep beneath the stars—or under my cloak if it's raining.

It rains so often in Albion.

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

In the decades following the departure of the legions a new, indigenous form of architecture developed. Rectilinear thatched houses took the place of the round huts of Celtic Britain, as well as the later constructions patterned on the Roman style. Archaeologists recently discovered a massive timber hall, of unmistakably British design, built on the fire-ravaged site of Viroconium—now Wroxeter. Similar finds are being unearthed elsewhere. In time whole towns were built free of Roman influence. Intelligent minds were at work.

The so-called Dark Ages were primitive rather than dark. Literacy was not totally lost in Britain. Some descendants of the educated elite and a few monastic scholars retained the ability to read and write. But the pervasive influence of the Saxons, and to a lesser extent the other tribes who invaded the island during the fourth and fifth centuries, meant that Britain would no longer be Celtic.

Most modern historians accept the historical reality of Vortigern and the two Jutish mercenaries, Hengist and Horsa, though their actual dates vary widely depending on the sources consulted. There are no reliable eyewitness accounts from Britain during the years covered by this novel. The earliest information on the post-Roman period relies on the work of two monks: Gildas (
De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae
), a Briton who died c. 570, and Bede (
Historia Ecclesiastica
), an Anglo-Saxon theologian who died in 735.

Both men were born long after the events related here, and wrote in the seclusion of monasteries. Their works bear testament to their religious convictions if not their historical acumen. They reputedly took their information from earlier letters and manuscripts that have since disappeared. The authors of those documents are unknown and their authenticity unproven. All we can know for certain is that the Romans invaded and conquered—then left.

In the long run, the fall of one civilization is very much like the fall of another.

Only the land remains.

 

GLOSSARY OF NAMES

Ancient and Modern

Albion—England

Caledonia—Scotland

Cymri—the Welsh

Cymru—Wales

Deva Victrix—Chester

Durovernum—Canterbury

Eire; Hibernia—Ireland

Erse—the Irish

Eryri—Snowdonia

Fretum Gallicum—The Strait of Dover

Glevum—Gloucester

Isca Dumnoniorum—Exeter

Londinium—London

Mamucium—Manchester

Oceanus Britannicus—The English Channel

Oceanus Germanicus—The North Sea

Oceanus Hibernicus—The Irish Sea

Ratae Coritanorum—Leicester

Vallum Aelium—Hadrian's Wall

Viroconium Cornoviarum—Wroxeter

Venta Belgarum—Winchester

 

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bowen, E. G.
Britain and the Western Seaways
. London: Thames & Hudson, 1972.

Campbell, James.
The Anglo-Saxons
. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1982.

Cottrell, Leonard.
A Guide to Roman Britain
. New York: Dimension Books, 1966.

Cunliffe, Barry.
Rome and the Barbarians
. New York: Henry Walck, 1971.

Gildas.
On the Ruin of Britain (De Excidio Britanniae)
. London: Dodo Press, n.d.

Johnson, Stephen.
Later Roman Britain
. New York: Scribner, 1980.

Laing, Lloyd.
Celtic Britain
. New York: Scribner, 1979.

Oliver, Neil.
A History of Ancient Britain
. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2011.

Owen, Gale R.
Rites and Religions of the Anglo-Saxons
. Totowa, NJ: Barnes & Noble, 1981.

Randers-Pehrson, Justine Davis.
Barbarians and Romans
. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1983.

Scullard, H. H.
Roman Britain: Outpost of the Empire
. London: Thames & Hudson, 1971.

Stenton, Frank.
Anglo-Saxon England
. London: Oxford University Press, 1971.

Tacitus.
The Annals of Imperial Rome
. London: Penguin Classics, 1977.

______
.
The Histories
. London: Penguin Classics, 1972.

Thwaite, Anthony.
Beyond the Inhabited World
. London: Andre Deutsch, 1976.

 

B
Y
M
ORGAN
L
LYWELYN FROM
T
OM
D
OHERTY
A
SSOCIATES

Bard

Brendán

Brian Boru

The Elementals

Etruscans
(with Michael Scott)

Finn Mac Cool

Grania

The Horse Goddess

The Last Prince of Ireland

Lion of Ireland

Pride of Lions

Strongbow

THE NOVELS OF THE IRISH CENTURY

1916: A Novel of the Irish Rebellion

1921: A Novel of the Irish Civil War

1949: A Novel of the Irish Free State

1972: A Novel of Ireland's Unfinished Revolution

1999: A Novel of the Celtic Tiger and the Search for Peace

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

AFTER ROME

Copyright © 2013 by Morgan Llywelyn

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Gregory Manchess

Map by Jon Lansberg

A Forge Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Forge
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Llywelyn, Morgan.

     After Rome / Morgan Llywelyn.—1st ed.

              p. cm.

     ISBN 978-0-7653-3123-6 (hardcover)

     ISBN 978-1-4299-8740-0 (e-book)

   1.  Wroxeter (England)—History—Fiction.   2.  Great Britain—History—To 1066—Fiction.   I.  Title.

     PS3562.L94A69 2013

     813'.54—dc23

2012027562

First Edition: February 2013