Death of an Empire (51 page)

The innkeeper provided bowls of some kind of seafood stew that was rather tasty, although Myrddion had no idea what was actually in it besides some small grains of gritty sand. Out of caution, the entire group refused the wine, settling for water, milk or a rough, watery beer that catered for northern tastes. Although the meal was simple, it was filling, plentiful and comparatively healthy. At last, the healers began to relax.

Before the companions sought their beds, Finn asked Myrddion’s permission to make an announcement. Hesitantly, and with Bridie in the protective curve of his left arm, the apprentice explained that he and Bridie were hand-fasted and that his new wife was almost positive that she was quickening with child. Myrddion gaped, for while he would have had to be blind to miss the obvious affection between the widow and Finn, the house in the subura in
Rome and the enforced lack of privacy on their journey had hardly been conducive to passion.

‘Well, Finn, it seems you’ve won a fair lady, one who’s as good as she’s beautiful.’ Myrddion smiled to show his pleasure in their obvious happiness. ‘I hope you know what you’re taking on, Bridie, for he’s a difficult man to train.’

Bridie blushed and smiled uncertainly, not sure if her master was jesting or serious.

‘I know that Bridie could find a better man than I am – but she makes me happy, master, and I never thought I’d be happy again. I swear before you all that my girl will want for nothing as long as I have two strong arms to protect her and a strong back to work for her.’

Myrddion sobered as he stared at Finn Truthteller’s earnest and embarrassed face. Out of the rubble of guilt, near madness and feelings of failure, Finn had not only carved a new trade for himself, but had also found the courage to fall in love. Myrddion felt a sharp pang of jealousy which he dismissed as soon as he recognised its taint. After Finn’s dreadful experience on the Night of the Long Knives, when he had been left alive to bear witness to Hengist’s revenge on Catigern, the young man deserved a taste of happiness, even if Myrddion had never experienced the same depths of passion for himself.

The servant need not live as the master dictates, Myrddion chided himself internally, even as he clapped the newly-weds on the back and embraced the blushing wife. I’m being selfish and envious, for Finn is my friend – and not my slave.

Because the air was fresh and clean and their quarters were comfortable enough, Myrddion decided that they should rest for three days at Fanum in celebration of Finn’s new status. The following evening, he proposed to host a modest feast to mark the good news. With his usual enthusiasm, Cadoc entered into the spirit of the occasion, persuading the dour innkeeper to prepare a
special meal and to find a private bedchamber for the traditional wedding night.

The celebration even generated interest in Fanum, a town that was more used to rapid departures than to feasts. To the delight not only of the innkeeper, the healers were spending their coin in Fanum rather than Pisaurum or Ariminum, so the hotelier’s wife bestirred herself to search out the finest ingredients available to her. Local musicians were hired and the townsfolk were invited en masse. Myrddion opened his chest, took out his gold, and spent his superfluous cash to give pleasure to his friends.

In provincial towns, especially after a hard winter, there are few opportunities for celebration. The people of the village around the inn arrived with small gifts, eager to enjoy a brief holiday from the rigours of everyday life. The flutes, lyres and drums played merry tunes, so that even the most sceptical guests found their feet tapping and their weathered faces cracking with smiles.

The food was largely the bounty of the sea, and was fresh and simply prepared. The luxury of soup made from tiny shellfish that grew on the rocks was a delight to travellers who had been starved of fresh meat for weeks. Apples kept in storage during the winter might be wrinkled with age but were still sweet and juicy. A large number of fish had been baked in a thick sauce made delicious with tiny shrimp and baby octopus that had been cooked whole. Although Myrddion had distrusted the food in Rome, he devoured this meal with gusto, even the octopus with their tiny, rubbery tentacles, satisfied that no sweeteners had been added, at his specific request, in its preparation.

He had unbent sufficiently to permit wine to be served, although the healers refused to drink it themselves, preferring the safety of beer. The amber, frothy drink quickly went to their heads and Cadoc led a crazed romp of dancers in a spirited British interpretation of village round dances. Joy gave the evening the sheen of magic that
would live in their memories for many weary nights to come, while Fanum would remember the healers and their bounty in the harsh years of servitude under the occupation of the barbarians.

After much dancing, music and song, the newly wedded couple belatedly fled to the marriage bed, which was incongruously decorated with dried rose petals and some of Rhedyn’s lavender.

‘Don’t ask, master!’ Cadoc had warned when Myrddion had opened his mouth to enquire about the rose petals. ‘What you don’t know can’t hurt you.’

Myrddion sighed, but then he grinned with boyish enthusiasm. ‘Whatever makes them happy,’ he responded, and clapped Cadoc’s back. ‘All we need to do now is find a wife for you.’

‘There’s no hope of that, master. Who’d love this ugly mug?’

‘I’m quite certain there are many women who’d happily keep you. I’m aware of your many conquests in Rome, and by all accounts there are queues of women eager to mother you. Don’t colour up, Cadoc. I’m simply speaking the truth as I see it, my friend. You can see how happy Finn is, so don’t you long to experience such felicity?’

Cadoc’s face fell into uncharacteristically sober lines. He threw one arm companiably over Myrddion’s shoulders.

‘Don’t you, master? Hmm? Exactly! Like you, I’m becoming fond of the road and adventures. When I lost the full use of my arm and soldiering seemed beyond me forever, I thought I’d finish my days in some boring trade like farming. But I’m a healer now, and the world clamours for my skills. Bridie is used to the life, so she accepts travel as part of her love for Finn, but where will I find another girl who’ll give up her family and any chance of a cosy, settled home?’

‘Ah, then we’ll be single men together, you and I,’ Myrddion riposted, but his eyes were sad. Myrddion had seen the deep wells of affection that can enrich married life, so part of his nature hungered for a home and a family. Unfortunately, his experiences with his mother had taught him that love was not always
unconditional, so he was cautious in all matters of the heart.

Alone on the strand, after the villagers and his own companions had retired to their beds, Myrddion sat on a crab pot and endured the advances of a small black and white dog with pricked ears and a wide, canine smile. He patted the little creature reflectively and it yipped with pleasure.

‘Families are a problem, aren’t they, little one?’ he said, and the dog tilted its head towards him in answer. ‘Marriage is a blessing where love dwells in the heart, as with Olwyn and Eddius. But when it is a matter of convenience and wealth, as with my mother Branwyn and her two husbands, then there’s precious little happiness and a great deal of heartache.’

The face of his grandmother Olwyn seemed to materialise out of the sea mist. ‘I loved you so much, Gran,’ he whispered, realising he was a little drunk. ‘You made me a man of some worth; you protected me and loved me. Your trust made me as whole as I’ll ever be.’

Olwyn’s lips smiled, and then faded to be replaced by his mother’s scornful, hate-filled face. The old, unchanging expression of loathing seemed to radiate out of her to poison him, as it always did when they were together.

‘I know why you hated me so much, Mother, and perhaps I would feel the same if I was raped and then forced to carry the result of that attack. I understand why you can’t bear to even look at me, but I wish I could love you, and be loved by you.’ The small dog licked his dangling hand, and the face of his mother vanished into the mist after his grandmother’s, leaving Myrddion sick at heart.

‘My loneliness is causing me to imagine things, pup, so forgive me.’ He patted the small square head and was amused to see the dog’s stump of tail wriggle with pleasure. ‘I wish I could be as easily pleased as you are, but I suppose that’s past praying for. Anyway, with luck, Finn and Bridie will be happy enough for all of us.’

With a twinge of regret, he turned his back on the sea, with its
rime of phosphorescence from the slow, steady ripple of the tide, and made his way back to the inn and his solitary pallet.

The next morning, when the happy couple joined their friends in the sunshine outside the inn, it was to find that Myrddion had commandeered a table on which a pile of gifts from the villagers had been assembled. None of the objects on the table was valuable and few of them were new, but Finn’s grin grew wider until his face was glossy with happiness, while Bridie burst into tears at this tangible proof of affection.

Fish hooks, a stew pot, a necklace of shells, dried apples, a potted lemon bush, loaves of unleavened bread, a conch shell and a strange little household god holding an iron trident stood on the table for the newly-weds to stroke and marvel at. Then the widows, Cadoc and Myrddion, who had scoured the town for suitable offerings, presented their own special bride gifts to the happy couple.

Somehow, Rhedyn and Brangaine had found a baby’s dress made of fine thread that had been knitted, rather than woven. Ignorant of such women’s work, Myrddion had no idea how the small, spider-webbed garment had been created, but he could recognise that it was soft from use and had a creamy appearance that spoke of great age. Tiny shells had been pierced and sewn round the hem so that they rang softly like little bells. The infant’s robe was beautiful in its homely fashion, and alien in construction, so that it would become a fitting heirloom when the fledgling family eventually returned to the land of the Britons.

Bridie wept again and then hugged Rhedyn and Brangaine before clutching the lovely article to her breasts.

Cadoc had been mindful of practical matters and had found two silver spoons, although Myrddion chose not to ask where his apprentice had discovered such treasure, least of all saved the coin to pay for it. To own a single spoon was a sign of wealth, but to own
two spoons was a wonder, so the newly wedded couple were incoherent with amazement.

Myrddion’s gifts were thoughtful and strange, just as Cadoc and Finn would have expected. Myrddion had seen first-hand how his grandmother Olwyn had found little time for herself once the babes of her second marriage had been born, so he understood how women longed for personal adornment to make them feel pretty after the demands that childbirth made on their bodies. He had found a length of very fine linen that had been dyed a clear lemon shade that would enhance Bridie’s lovely hair. A long row of abstract shell shapes had been woven into the fine cloth to create a border, thereby turning the cloth into a princely gift. Luck had been with the young healer, for such a piece of weaving could usually be found only in the centres of Rome, Constantinople or Ravenna, but a local trader had accepted the cloth from a fleeing kinsman of Flavius Aetius in exchange for a good horse. A wise man flees when an emperor kills the family paterfamilias. He had been relieved to exchange the cloth for two of Myrddion’s store of Janus gold coins.

For Finn, Myrddion had purchased a bag that could be used to assemble his own healer’s kit. The leather satchel was strong and serviceable, and was lashed together with strong thongs of the same material that had been dyed dark blue to create a self-pattern on the tanned leather.

‘It’s coloured with indigo,’ Myrddion explained to Finn, who had gasped with surprise when the satchel was pressed into his hands. ‘All that is needed now is for you to assemble a basic supply of salves, pain relievers, forceps, needles and lances and you can practise as a fully fledged healer.’

‘This is too much, Master,’ Finn protested.

‘No, Finn, it’s not enough. You and Cadoc have served me well for so long that it’s unfair on my part to consider you to be apprentices any more.’

Then, with a flourish, he produced a matching satchel for Cadoc, different only in that the thongs were coloured a rusty red to set it apart from the gift given to Finn.

‘You have both served your apprenticeships, and I declare that you are now healers. You may choose to stay with me or to set up a practice of your own if you are tired of the road. I’ll not blame either of you if you choose to stay here, or in Ravenna, or if you decide to return to Britain. As of now, you are free to do as you choose.’

‘Master . . . how could I leave you?’ Cadoc said emotionally. ‘I owe you my trade, the use of my arm and my life. I am your man forever.’

‘And I,’ Finn agreed, standing back from Myrddion and saluting the younger man with one clenched fist over his heart in the Roman fashion. ‘I would have died of shame and madness in Cymru if you hadn’t taken me in and tried to stitch my damaged wits back together. We three are the healers of Segontium, and I’ll not be parted from you. Forgive me, Bridie my love, but not even a thousand wives could force me to break my oath to my master.’

‘Nor would a thousand wives want you to break your vows,’ Bridie said proudly, drawing herself up to her full height like a perky little sparrow facing a cat that threatened her fledglings. ‘We are your widows, master, and you’ve not asked anything of us but honest work in all the years we’ve served you. You’ve treated us as if we were ladies rather than camp followers. I’m a happy woman now because of you . . . and I don’t deserve your gift. It’s too valuable, my lord.’

Embarrassed and touched, Myrddion flushed along his high cheekbones. ‘You are a lady, Bridie – as are Rhedyn and Brangaine. You deserve more than I’ve given, because you’ve been loyal and true, which are qualities worth more than anything that can be purchased with coin.’

‘I don’t know about you, master, but all this sentimentality is getting to me,’ Cadoc said with a wink, as he dried his face with his sleeve. ‘Let’s drink a glass of beer and then have something to eat from last night’s leavings. I, for one, am starving!’