The Eagle and the Raven (15 page)

For ten long heartbeats no one moved. Caradoc was stunned, though he had expected Adminius to say the things he had said. Somehow it was more shocking to hear it with the ear than to imagine it, and he had hoped, oh how he had hoped, that at the last his brother might change his mind. But no. Adminius was Rome’s tool. He glanced behind him at the traders, sensing rather than seeing the quiet satisfaction ripple through their ranks, and at the movement of his head the crowd loosened, sighed, then shook off the spell and came to life.

Togodumnus flung his sword into the center and stepped after it, tossing back his cloak and planting his feet wide, his face a mask of grimness but his eyes blazing with success. Adminius was more than a fool. Adminius was dead. He and Caradoc exchanged a swift glance, then Togodumnus shouted at them all. “I will not follow the custom of the Council. I will not boast of my exploits, I will not strut before you, I will not smear honey on my words. I will say only this. My brother is a traitor, and any who vote for him are traitors too. What will Caius Caesar put in the agreement Adminius tells us will do us good? Will he kindly give us all and take nothing? You know! Adminius would sell us all to Rome for a few more paltry toys, and Rome would send us a governor to rule the Council, and soldiers to rape our women and consume our grain. This is what Adminius wants. Before our very eyes his tribal soul has been dying. He is no longer one of us. I say that our ties with Rome are becoming a hanging rope, and unless we cut the knot, and soon, the noose will draw tight. Drive out the traders! Burn the ships! Then let us turn to the Iceni, and the Dobunni, to make war, and do as my father wished. He did not have the courage. He feared Rome in his old age, but I do not. Do you?” He taunted them, and Caradoc, alarmed, watched the chiefs scuffle and murmur angrily. Tog was pushing hard and Cara doc felt his muscles ache with the urge to action, any action, anything to end this futile, stupid game. But he waited, knowing that Tog had the right to speak his piece and that afterward he would be calmer, more amenable. Either that, Caradoc thought, or one of us will die. Togodumnus whirled and began to pace before them, his tall, graceful body arched, his light brown hair swinging with him and his eyes darting over them.

“Elect me, chiefs and warriors, and we will return to the ways of our fathers. We will make war and once more the Catuvellauni will be full of honor, hard and mighty. I will give you Subidasto on the end of my spear. The head of Boduocus will swing before my hut. Verica will be drowned in the sea, and all will be ours! What do you say?” He raised his arms and suddenly the chiefs surged into life.

For years Cunobelin had held them firmly in check, offering them raids and cattle like tidbits thrown to a starving dog, but now Togodumnus offered them a hunk of meat as high as a mountain and they pounced upon it with ferocious hunger. They bawled his name screaming Ricon! Ricon! They rose to their feet, madness in their eyes, and in the rear Caradoc saw the traders stampede toward the door. He rose, Cinnamus and Caelte with him, trying to draw his sword, but the press was too great. He could hear Gladys shouting, and he saw Vocorio run to the doors, the little girls held high on his shoulders. Where was Llyn? Then he was swept against a wall. He pulled his knife from within his tunic and prepared to force his way to where Gladys had jumped on a table, brandishing her sword. “Caradoc has not spoken!” she was yelling. “Caradoc must speak!” Cinnamus and Caelte were belaboring the men closest to them with fists and knees, and the crowd swayed and gave.

Then Caradoc saw Togodumnus. He was bent almost double, creeping through the outer shadows, knife in hand, to where Adminius was locked tight in the crush, looking about him with bewilderment. In another moment the knife would be buried deep in Adminius’s back and Tog would have severed the last ties of reason. Caradoc launched himself forward, kicking his chiefs out of the way. He heard Gladys scream, “Adminius! Look out!” Caradoc lunged for his brother and he and Tog went down. Adminius swung round, the babble began to die, and after a fierce spasm of resistance Tog released the knife and lay limp. Caradoc sprawled on top of him, feeling his hot, quick breath on his neck, his muscles jerking, then he scrambled up, taking Togodumnus by the arm and hauling him to his feet. Tog’s face was flushed. Sholto bent and swept up the knife, handing it to Togodumnus, but Caradoc smoothly interposed and took it himself. Adminius leaped forward, taking Togodumnus by the neck, shaking him as a dog shakes a rat, then he flung him backward, but he did not go for his sword.

“You cowardly fool!” he shouted. “Is this how you will rule the tuath? A knife in the back for all those who will not do your bidding? Chiefs and freemen, take warning. How do you like your new ricon now?” He turned and left them and the people parted, so great was the rage and bitterness on his face. He did not call for blood. He knew a challenge would be useless, and though he might be the victor, still the chiefs did not want him for ricon. Gladys jumped down and ran behind him, her hand on his arm, but he swept out the door and into the fitful sunlight, Gladys following, caught in the eddy of his swift passing.

“Now, Tog,” Caradoc said quietly, handing him his knife. “It is my turn to speak, and you will listen. Be ashamed, chiefs and freemen,” he called to them angrily. “To what ignominious end have we come that the Council should be held so lightly? Sit down. Sit down!” In silence they folded away from him and onto the floor, but Togodumnus walked to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I will be ricon,” he whispered. “The chiefs will listen to you be cause they have been shamed, but you saw how they rose to me. They will not be leashed again, Caradoc.” The lean hand tightened, quivering with excitement, but Caradoc gently disentangled it from his cloak. To his right, where Mocuxsoma stood with sword at the ready, Eurgain and Llyn waited. Eurgain had removed her cloak and her fingers stroked the hilt of her sword, and Llyn’s eyes were fixed meditatively on his uncle.

“Oh sit down, Tog,” Caradoc said lightly though his heart raced and his knees shook. “You are not Cunobelin and never will be.” He took a step that brought him into the full glare of the firelight, turning his back on Togodumnus, and Cinnamus and Caelte closed in behind him. “People of my kin,” he said quietly. “Lords of the tuath. Today you see a terrible thing. Brother against brother, greed and ambition where once there was harmony and friendship. You have rejected the claim of Adminius and I think you are wise to do so, but you have not yet voted for Togodumnus. Tell me, are you children, wild and thoughtless? Will you follow Togodumnus to war and strife?”

“Aye, we will have him,” someone muttered, and the mutinous whispers ran through the company and gained strength. “Togodumnus for ricon. A clean tuath, an honorable war.” But there were also angry voices. “Caradoc for ricon!” Caradoc raised his voice again before the sighs could become another eruption of violence. “Even among yourselves you are divided,” he said loudly, bitterly. “Some favor Togodumnus because they tire of too few raids and too many feasts, and some of you look to me for guidance, knowing my temperance in all things. We could sit here all day and all night and come to no decision.” He glanced at Eurgain and she nodded imperceptibly, her face white and her mouth drawn. “To you, chiefs, and to you, Tog, I propose a compromise.” The restless bickering died away and all eyes swiveled to him. “The tuath will divide.” He paused, and in the breathless hush he looked to his father’s corner, fancying that he heard a low, dry chuckle. “I will stay here in Camulodunon, with all those who choose to stay with me, and you, Tog, can go back to Verulamium, from whence we Catuvellauni first came, and rule in the west. We will strike coins together, and have treaties between ourselves never to make war on each other, and share the trade, but you and I will both bear the title of ricon.” He stood quite still. Now, he thought, will Tog accede or will he fling himself upon me? He felt his whole body become stiff. He did not turn his head but he felt his brother leave the shadows of the wall and stalk forward on noiseless feet, and he poised himself, watching the eyes of those who sat before him for a signal.

Suddenly Togodumnus began to laugh. He leaped before Caradoc, his gay face contorted with mirth, flinging wide his arms and laughing. Then he embraced Caradoc, and roared at the startled company. “A compromise! Of course! What else should I expect from the wily Caradoc, true son of his father?” He burst into loud peals of laughter again but Caradoc, watching his eyes, saw that they were quite cold. Finally Togodumnus became calm. He lowered himself to the floor and Caradoc sat unwillingly beside him, while the chiefs began to rise, unsheathing their swords and moving forward. “I agree!” Togodumnus shouted. “Now all who wish to ride with me to Verulamium come now, and pledge me your swords. How many do you think will pledge to you?” he said softly to Caradoc, but Caradoc only smiled, his relief still too great for words. He knew that this might be just the beginning of his troubles. Tog and he would spend many hours thrashing out agreements and safeguards, and even then Tog might someday disregard them all and come sweeping over Camulodunon with his war band. But for the present, all was well and he watched the swords come clattering before his folded knees in a haze of weariness and deep, wrenching sadness. Eurgain laid her sword across his lap and knelt and kissed him, and Llyn flung his arms about him, but he was aware only of Tog beside him, chaffering the men and glee fully counting the swords as they fell. Then Caradoc rose and dis missed them all. They came and recovered their weapons, leaving the Hall in a satisfied silence, and Tog let out a sigh and leaned back, his chiefs settling beside him. Cinnamus and Caelte squatted easily beside Caradoc, and Eurgain sat far back, a glimmer of light in the dimness.

“Well!” said Togodumnus, stretching and smiling into his brother’s face. “You managed that very adroitly, I must say. I would never have killed you, Caradoc, not really. You know that, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” Caradoc snapped. “And neither do you. I wish you would learn to control your impulses, Tog. None of us is safe around you. Are you pleased with my plan?”

Tog grimaced. “Well, not exactly pleased, but I see your wisdom. Even if we had not fought, and whomever had been elected, there would still have been strife among the chiefs. This way is better. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”

“You were too busy sizing up Adminius.”

Tog sighed, and a queer light came into his eyes. “Ah yes, Adminius. We will have to kill him, Caradoc. Otherwise he will go on skulking about behind our backs, making trouble between us and stirring up the traders.”

“I know,” Caradoc said reluctantly. “But it must be done properly and openly, and with the chiefs’ consent. Your way was utter madness.”

“It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

They sat for a moment without speaking, Caradoc’s heart heavy with thoughts of his elder brother, and he felt Eurgain’s sympathy reaching him, a warm, invisible cloud of peace from the shadows. His chiefs squatted quietly, looking at the ground. The anticlimax was somehow paining and unsatisfactory, as if something had gone wrong, as if threads were left untied and unseen problems were not settled, and Caradoc felt his own formless anxiety battle with Eurgain’s hovering calm. He stirred.

“Your chiefs will want immediate action,” he said. “What will you do?”

Tog gave him a wide smile of pure contentment. “I will war with the Coritani and finally subdue them. Then I will overrun the Dobunni. That should not take long. Boduocus sleeps all day. Then,” he rubbed his hands together. “Then for Brigantia! You know, Caradoc, I think that when I have beaten Aricia in war I will marry her.” Caradoc raised his head sharply, and in Togodumnus’s eyes he saw his own obsession mirrored. “Yes, brother of mine,” Tog said quietly, “I too am sick, and I have no Eurgain to apply soothing salves.” He straightened and laughed and the moment was gone. “What will you do? What of our plans for Verica?”

“Verica will have to go,” Caradoc replied. “We need his mines. He won’t sell us his iron, he sulks, so we will have to take it for ourselves.”

“And then?”

Caradoc shrugged. “Then perhaps the Iceni, and the Cantiaci. Who knows?”

Togodumnus struggled to his feet. “Who indeed?” he remarked lightly. “Will you continue to shake hands with Rome?”

Caradoc rose, too, and stood thinking. If he assented he might be feeding the fires of conquest in Tog, fires that often leaped in him also. If he denied, Tog would wonder then whether all the fuss of the Council was simply in order to put Caradoc in Cunobelin’s place. He lifted his eyebrows, smiled, embraced his brother. “I do not know,” he said. “Let us deal with Adminius first,” and they linked arms and went into the damp, sun-drenched day, their chiefs pacing behind them.

Adminius strode on down the hill with Gladys running after him. He passed the harness maker’s shop, and the blacksmith’s, and the kennels where the trainer called a cheery greeting, and at last he turned in at the stable. Gladys panted after him, stumbling as the sunlight was cut off and the steamy, pungent air enveloped her, then she followed the sound of harness clinking. To right and left the horses stood, tails swishing idly, munching on their hay, and normally she would have stopped by each one to stroke and speak quietly, but she moved on. Adminius was harnessing his mount, his fingers fumbling angrily with bit and leather, and she squeezed between his horse’s broad flank and the farther wall and watched him. He ignored her, his face a stiff scowl, the mouth pulled tight and the eyes black holes of burning misery. He rammed the bit into the horse’s mouth and flung the reins over its neck.

“Where are you going, Adminius?” she said softly.

He did not answer, bending beneath his horse’s head and pushing her roughly out of the way. Suddenly he stopped and laid his forehead for a moment against the rippling brown hide. “I am going to Caesar,” he said harshly.

She stepped forward abruptly. “No! No, Adminius, how can you consider such a thing? Will you be like Dubnovellaunus then, hanging about Rome, bowing and scraping to the senate, suffering every indignity? And for what? Stay here.”