Daughters of Fire (65 page)

To start with he had been popular. He had deserted his post and risked his honour by leaving Venutios, something no man would condone, but he had done it to serve his queen and to save her from a brutal husband and he had transferred his allegiance and his life to her service. That made him a hero with the women and more importantly with most of the bards who sang the story around the northern fires as the weather grew colder.

She had been without a man too long. Once he had come to her bed on that first long night, as cascades of shooting stars lit the skies, and she had made love to this strong, handsome, adoring man she could not stop. Once, twice, sometimes three times a day she would drag him away from the eyes of the men and women around them and pulling his tunic off his shoulders, and releasing his belt so his breeks fell about his ankles she would feast her eyes
on his hard muscular body, groaning with ecstasy as he touched her, submitting with something like worship as he pushed her down and thrust again and again into her willing body.

Artgenos and Culann had tried to make her cool her ardour. ‘Beware. Your people are restless. You neglect your duties to them and to the gods. Not everyone is happy to see this man who was your husband’s servant, so high in your favour.’

Not since her bedding with Riach had she felt so completely overwhelmed by passion. Vellocatus had only to look at her for her breath to grow short. Her breasts would ache for his touch. She could feel herself dissolving with longing.

Then she had found she was pregnant. She had forgotten to count the phases of the moon. Forgotten everything in her need for this man. It did not matter. The goddess was giving her a son.

‘The child will have to be fostered away. The people will not approve of their queen giving birth to the child of a servant.’ Artgenos did not mince his words.

‘Vellocatus is no servant!’ Her eyes blazed with anger. ‘He is a freeman. His family were farmers -’

‘And not warriors.’ Artgenos nodded. ‘Do not hope to rear this child as a prince of the ruling family, Carta. You are pushing people’s tolerance beyond all bearing. You will bring disaster upon yourself and your family.’

‘Then I will make sure that this child, my son, is the son of a king!’ She stared him down defiantly. ‘Did you hear me, Artgenos? Vellocatus will be my husband and I shall make him king!’

‘No!’

‘Yes!’ She was almost spitting with anger that he should deny her what she wanted above all else. ‘And you and your priests shall marry us. That is my command.’

‘And it is a command I will not obey. The portents already spell disaster. The skies are full of black birds reeling in from the west. The ravens scream of blood and death. Last night the wolves howled all night in the forest. Can you not see what you are doing, Carta? Send Vellocatus away. Keep Him somewhere quietly for your pleasure. No one would grudge you that. But do not dare to try and rear this child as a prince. I repeat. You will bring death and destruction to this country.’

But she had not waited to hear the end of the sentence. She had turned in a swirl of skirts and cloaks and disappeared into the darkness
outside, no doubt to find her lover yet again. Artgenos had frowned. He could smell the heat and musk on her. There would be no reasoning with her until this obsession had run its course.

In the township of Dun Righ they supported Cartimandua to a man, and it was here that Ban, the chief Druid of the township and senior Druid of the Setantii, under Artgenos and Culann, officiated at the rites of marriage and the legal processes that accompanied them, between Cartimandua of the Setantii and Vellocatus, formerly of the Carvetii. Her name meant Sleek Pony. His, Good Fighter. It had been given him by Venutios.

The ceremony heralded the outbreak of civil war and she sent another plea to Gaius for help.

Venutios attacked with a hand-picked army of warriors. The confederation of small tribes which had made up this the largest and strongest kingdom in the Pretannic Isles broke apart. Those who supported Cartimandua and believed in a peaceful relationship with Rome congregated around her in Elmet with the tacit support of the Votadini in the north. Those who supported Venutios, bent on removing Cartimandua as queen and pushing the Romans out of the island, rallied round Venutios at Dinas Dwr. His supporters far outnumbered hers.

Vellocatus reviewed the army of which he was now leader with a sinking heart. There would be no hope for them without the help she was so sure of from the south. No hope at all. The men had resented him from the start. A well-respected, brave and proven warrior at his king’s side, he was no king himself. Their allegiance was grudging. For Carta’s sake they would follow him, but for no other. The fact that she had declared him king at her side held no weight with their followers. Vellocatus, who was not of royal blood, could not be a king however much Cartimandua might wish it. And where were the Romans she promised? There had been no word.

She had written to Gaius, sent the letter by messenger, begging him to come. He had to pass the message on, of course. He couldn’t help on his own. The XX legion was in Wales, close enough to go to her aid but the governor sent instead to Lindum and the commander there sent an auxiliary cavalry unit to help. They fought Venutios. He couldn’t win against the experienced Roman army. Of course he couldn’t. He ran away.

Carta reclaimed the allegiance of her people as she knew she would. There had been a battle and a victory. They liked that. They celebrated. The Romans gave her even more gifts and money to reward the men who supported her. They were always generous, the Romans, to their client queen. Everyone was happy for the time being.

She wrote to Gaius and thanked him.

Gordon was lying on his back at the foot of a small ravine at the edge of the wood. Someone had made an attempt to cover him with earth and then piled branches over him.

Steve stood staring down, a dog on either side of him, his eyes full of tears. It looked as though his father had slipped. The edge of the bank had fallen away and the bushes had been crushed and torn as he had crashed down into the undergrowth. Whoever had found him had made no attempt to go for help. They had gone to great pains to cover his body.

Peggy.

In sudden revulsion and shock Steve turned away and vomited into the nettles, then, sitting down on a fallen log, he put his head in his hands. He was shaking violently, tears pouring down his face.

‘Steve?’ For a moment he thought the voice was in his head, but he saw the dogs leap up and go to greet her and he turned. Peggy was standing a few feet away.

‘I knew they’d find him. That’s why I wanted them to stay at Dave’s.’ She was matter-of-fact.

‘What happened?’ He could hardly speak.

‘We were arguing. He slipped and fell.’

‘And you didn’t get help?’

She shrugged. ‘There was no point. He was dead.’

‘So you don’t just leave him there, Ma. You go for help! You bring him home!’ Steve stood up. He was staring at her with blind incredulity.

She sighed. ‘It was his fault, Steve. He was going to destroy the well. You do see, he couldn’t be allowed to do that.’

Steve froze. ‘You did it on purpose? You killed him?’

‘No. He fell.’

‘But you didn’t bring help.’

She shook her head. ‘He would have desecrated it. I couldn’t let him do that. I left it to the goddess.’ She pursed her lips.

‘He was still alive? You left him to die?’

She nodded. ‘When I went back, he’d gone. He would have died anyway, Steve. He was too badly hurt. I couldn’t have saved him. No one could.’

‘An air ambulance might have. First aid might have!’ Steve clenched his fists. ‘So, were you going to leave him here forever?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s what he would have wanted. To be on the farm.’ She sounded completely detached.

‘Picked clean by birds and foxes, I suppose!’ Steve was beside himself. He scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m going to ring the police!’

‘No, Steve. You can’t!’

‘I can. I can’t leave it like this.’ He was sobbing out loud. ‘Even if we say it was an accident - but how can we? No normal person would leave someone - their husband - to rot in the fields!’ He turned and began to climb up the bank.

‘Steve!’ His mother reached out, clutching at him as he pushed past her. ‘Steve! You can’t tell anyone!’

‘I can. And I will.’ He was already walking blindly across the field. The two dogs turned and with a glance back at the ravine where their master lay, followed him.

‘Steve? What on earth’s the matter?’ Pat threw down her cigarette as Steve ran towards her. She had been sitting in the garden, deep in thought.

‘My dad’s dead.’ Steve stopped. His face was ravaged with grief. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. ‘Down there, in the ravine. He fell.’

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Oh, Steve, how awful.’ She leaped to her feet, numb with shock, reaching for his hand in an instinctive gesture of comfort.

They both turned at a shout from the orchard behind them. Peggy was hurrying after him. ‘Steve, wait!’

‘She killed him! She killed my dad!’ Steve shouted wildly, snatching his hand away. He pointed at his mother.

Pat stared from one to the other in horror as he rushed on. ‘I’m calling the police!’ He ran to the house and went in through the kitchen door.

Peggy shook her head. She was panting hard as she ran after him. ‘He doesn’t understand.’ She caught Pat’s arm. ‘Tell him! Tell him I had to do it. For the goddess!’

Steve had gone straight to the phone.

‘No!’ Peggy rushed after him. Wrenching it out of his hand, she pulled the cord out of the wall. ‘No, you can’t ring the police. Steve! Please! Don’t be so stupid!’

Steve pushed her aside and headed to the front door. ‘If I can’t phone, then I’ll go and fetch them.’ Grabbing his car keys off the hall table, he disappeared outside.

Seconds later they heard the sound of a car engine. Peggy thumped her fist down on the table. ‘Stupid! So stupid! He doesn’t understand! Why didn’t you stop him?’

‘Peggy, I don’t know what’s going on.’ Pat was immobile with shock.

‘You do. Medb knows. Medb knows everything.’ Peggy narrowed her eyes and suddenly she smiled. ‘We need Medb now. She is a powerful woman; a Druidess. Trained in the arts. She can help me. Where is she? I need Medb!’ She reached over and put her hand on Pat’s forehead. Her fingers were ice cold.

Pat shrank back. ‘Don’t touch me!’

‘Just relax, sweetheart, and let Medb in. I’ve told you before not to fight her. Let her come.’ She was pushing Pat towards the wall. ‘I can see her. She is there all over you. She knows I want her here.’

‘Peggy -!’ Pat was paralysed with horror.

‘I need her.’ Peggy didn’t move. ‘I need that brooch and I need that power.’

‘Steve!’ Suddenly Pat was screaming. Desperately she pushed at Peggy, her hands flat against the woman’s chest. ‘Viv! Where are you? Help me!’

There was no reply.

Medb was smiling.

The brooch was almost in sight.