The Eagle and the Raven (32 page)

Prasutugas introduced her quickly. She hesitated, her eyes fixed mutinously on the toes of the Roman’s sandals, pride and loyalty vying furiously within her, then slowly her hand came up and her glance with it. She felt, not the cold, cruel tentacles of her imagination, but a smooth, live grip of friendship, and smiling eyes shone at her out of a boyish, eager face topped by a fringe of black hair. She managed to smile back but the words of graciousness would not come and in the end Pudens, seeing and understanding all in a flash, let her go and introduced his tribunes. The formalities were over for the moment, and Prasutugas bowed them into the hall. A small fire had been lit in their honor, with skins placed around it, and they all sat in the cool shadows with a sense of relief, reaching for the wine that Prasutugas had ordered for the occasion, but Boudicca cradled her jug of mead and kept her face composed. The rest of the afternoon would be spent in polite talking about nothing, and she steeled herself against the waves of resentment, knowing that in the evening, after the feast, she would need all her control to stay quiet when the business came into the open. The men drank and conversed easily, Pudens adroitly keeping away from any hint of war, occupation, or Roman demands, while Saloc interpreted with automatic, detached skill, and Boudicca found herself listening with interest to an account of the Roman ways of hunting and farming. Then Prasutugas began to talk of his precious dogs and offered the Romans a tour of the kennels and other areas that might be amusing. They all trailed back into the weakening light of a sun that was westering slowly, and were followed as they walked about the town by crowds of chiefs and freemen who listened to the hard, exact Roman speech with awe and some uneasiness. Later, with the last red light of the day, they gathered by the big fire that roared cheerily outside the gate and they mingled with the commoners, feasting and drinking, watching chiefs spar and wrestle and race their chariots around the torch-lit palisade. At one point, to her horror, Boudicca found Pudens beside her, wine in hand. It was too late to edge away from him and she clutched her mug to her breast and faced him resolutely.

“You have a daughter, Lady?” he said haltingly in her own tongue, his voice raised above the merry din around them. She nodded briefly. “What is her name?”

Her name is offered only to her kin, Boudicca wanted to snap, but she answered meekly, “Ethelind.”

“That name has music. I am very fond of children. I have many nephews and nieces at home who ply me with requests for gifts every time I return to Rome, but I don’t mind.” He smiled at her. Were you also fond of the little ones you Romans slaughtered in Gaul? she wanted to sneer, but somehow that face was too open, too exuberantly youthful, and she could not.

“Have you a wife?” she asked him curtly, and he shook his head.

“No, not yet. At the moment I am wedded to my career, as they say, and my career is a jealous and time-consuming mistress. It does have its rewards, though.” Immediately he saw his mistake. Her eyes darkened and her mouth turned down at the corners. He thought quickly of turning the conversation but decided that she was not one to be softened with light words, so he said gently, “I am sorry. But I cannot guard my tongue all the time and I am only a beginner in your language. You hate us, don’t you?”

Her head came up. “Yes,” she shot at him. “I do.”

“Then it does no good to say to you that in a few years, when you have got to know us better, you will at least forget to hate and perhaps only dislike us a little. I admire your honesty, Boudicca, and though you may not believe me, I understand it. I have met only one other woman with this regard for honor.”

“Caradoc’s sister.”

“Yes,” he said in surprise. “If it is any comfort to you, she defied the emperor himself.”

“It is no comfort,” she retorted harshly. “For the emperor still did not go away.”

They both drank quickly, self-consciously, then without another word he bowed to her shortly and left her.

While the freemen still quarreled and laughed and the fire still leaped high, its red and orange flames alive against the soft blackness of the sky, the Romans and Saloc, Boudicca, and Prasutugas and his train, went to the hall and settled by the hearth. Lamps had been lit and their glow lighted the formal, ceremonial dimness. Servants moved quietly to and fro, anonymous and unobtrusive, replenishing the fire and bringing more wine, and when they had finished Prasutugas motioned them out and turned to Pudens. Silence fell. Boudicca unbuckled her sword and placed it carefully before her knees, and Lovernius and Iain followed suit.

Pudens cleared his throat and spoke. “First I must again thank you, Lord, for your hospitality, and for the wisdom that prompted you to seek peace with us for your people. I believe without question that because of your courage in seeking this path your tribe will revere your memory as a true father and guide to them. Let there be no words of surrender or conquest between us. Rome wishes only good things for you so that together we may become friends.”

Saloc echoed the words in the mellifluous rise and fall of Boudicca’s tongue, and Boudicca felt a great sadness begin to seep through her. She had prepared herself to fight anger, but this creeping grief startled and horrified her and she thought, Ah no! I must not weep. Above all, I must shed no tears before the foreigners.

Prasutugas lifted a hand, his young face furrowed with the weari ness of the late hour and the strain of the occasion. “Sir,” he said with a trace of humor, “I look to you to be scarcely more than a child, but that is because among your own people, childhood is prolonged and your children are sheltered. I am a man, I am ricon of my people, and I beg you not to tread the fringes of my honor by speaking to me as though I were slow of understanding. Let us not waste the hours of sleep with fine but empty words. Rome has conquered. I do not want to fight Rome, and neither does the tuath. As for friendship, that may come but for now let us talk of terms.”

Saloc smiled faintly as he interpreted, and the tribunes grinned ruefully into the fire. Pudens sat looking at Prasutugas, taken aback for a moment, then his glance slid to Boudicca and noted her quivering lips, the rapid blinking of her eyes. He squared his shoulders against a fleeting breath of shame.

“Very well,” he said loudly. “I am glad, Lord, that I do not have to couch those terms in pretty language. Some chiefs are so touchy!” He smiled. “The terms are thus. The Divine Claudius gives gold to you. It is a gift, a token of his good will. As a pledge to Rome of your own honesty and fair dealing you will swear oaths not to bear arms against any citizen of Rome. If you have grievances in the future you will bring them to the courts at Camulodunon. You will also allow a small garrison to be built here, near the town, and posting stations every ten miles along the road that will be built to the garrison. Later, if all goes well, there will be another road.”

Again Prasutugas raised a hand. “I want no roads cutting across my people’s fields. No oaks are to be felled to clear the way for such roads, either. How many soldiers will man this garrison? What authority will they have over us? I will allow no interference with my rule, Pudens.”

Rufus nodded. “The roads will be built along the existing paths. I have ridden them here, coming up from the south, and they need little changing. The garrison will hold eighty to one hundred men, depending on the state of peace in the province from year to year. The commander will have no authority whatsoever over your internal affairs, Lord. He will be concerned only with keeping the peace, and he will be invaluable to you as an intermediary between yourself and the governor.”

“That depends entirely on what kind of man he is,” Boudicca spoke up sharply. “If he is a barbarian-hater he could make our lives a torment.”

“That is true,” Pudens acknowledged. “Therefore I will request that he be sent here on probation. If after six months you are not satisfied with him, the governor will replace him.”

“Why do you want a garrison here?” Boudicca persisted. “Icenia is surrounded on three sides by the ocean, and to the south there is only land that Rome already holds tight. You want to spy on us, don’t you?”

Carefully Pudens lifted his cup, put it down, poured into it from the silver jug at his elbow, then, having given himself time to think, he answered her. “I must presume, Lady, that you are no child either. Your people want peace at the moment, but what of next year and the one after that? Surely you understand that Rome must protect her own interests by making sure that no disaffected elements rise within your tuath and turn your husband’s good work into chaos in the future. The commander will not spy on you, but he will be always present to make sure that there is never any need to do so.”

“Well, you are honest in this, at least!” she snapped. “But as I see it, Icenia will be in the hands of one man. If he is fair and just all will be well, but if not, we are prisoners. We will not be able even to reach the governor’s ear.”

“You presume that men are either all evil or all good,” he said with a smile that was almost indulgent, “and of course Romans are all evil, and if they are not then they hide their wicked hearts behind a mask. Your fears will soon be seen to be unfounded, Lady.” He returned to Prasutugas. “There is also the matter of tribute.” Boudicca let out a long breath and her husband’s face hardened. “I cannot tell you with any certainty what the taxes will be, for the procurator has not yet arrived from Rome. But he will visit you and assess your land and the numbers of your herds and flocks. You are very wealthy, Lord, and your taxes will be high,” he warned.

Prasutugas kept his eyes on the glowing depths of the fire, wondering at Boudicca’s stillness. She had slumped back into the shadows but he felt her distress. Where is her rage? he thought to himself anxiously. Where the flood of barbed questions?

“I will pay the taxes,” he said slowly. “We can afford this, in exchange for peace. But I absolutely refuse to allow any Icenian freemen or women to be taken as slaves, nor will I send levies of my young men for the legions or the arenas. I cannot bargain with you on this, Pudens.”

“I understand. You still do not quite believe, do you, that Rome is kind? I will tell you the truth, Prasutugas. No free people will be taken as slaves, but I can make no promises about the levies. Rome needs healthy young men, and Albion has them in abundance. I think that in this you will have no choice.”

His voice was firm, hard, and Prasutugas answered bitterly, “I see that we have no choice in anything. Yet I will not complain. I thirst for a life of contentment and growth for my people. The price is high, yet we will pay it.” Still Boudicca did not comment. She, Lovernius, and Iain sat hunched in the darkness, but Prasutugas felt her agony like a smothering weight. His head ached and he felt older than his years. “I have a request to make of you,” he said. “I have heard that the philosopher Seneca is a very rich man, and is willing to lend his money to any who can afford to borrow from him. I and some of my chiefs wish to borrow.”

Boudicca jerked upright. “No, Prasutugas!” she cried out. “No, no! We do not need this money! Such a debt is without honor, and who will stand as surety for you if you cannot pay? Who will make the promises?” Saloc began to translate her words but she silenced him with a vicious oath. “My husband,” she pleaded softly. “Already we swim desperately, afraid lest the waters close over us. Leave all as it is. Ask for no more, or we will drown.”

He turned to her and grasped her hot hand in his own. “My love,” he whispered, near to tears. “Can’t you see that I am doing what I can to save the people? The money will soothe the pain of transformation. It will quicken the time it takes to put the tuath on Roman feet. For the Catuvellauni the time was long, a hundred years of slow weaving, but for us it must be now, today, this year, a swift slash to sever all the yesterdays, and then a slow, easy healing. I know what I am doing. I am killing, I am murdering, so that something else can be born. Understand! Please, Boudicca, do not fail me now!”

Pudens and his men sat with lowered heads, fidgeting with their cups, the raw, unselfconscious emotion in Prasutugas’s words making them squirm inwardly with embarrassment, but for a while the two did not care that they were present.

Boudicca rose, took a step, and then knelt before Prasutugas, putting her head onto the warmth of his chest. “Help me,” she whispered. “I want to do what is right. I cannot bear what is happening tonight, I cannot bear it, Prasutugas, and I am the first you kill.” His arm closed around her and he put his cheek against her hair, but he had no more words to say to her and in dumb unhappiness they swayed together, then he pushed her gently away. She rose, signaled to Saloc to continue, and went out of the hall without another glance at any of them.

When Prasutugas finally came to bed she was still awake, lying on her back with her eyes on the ceiling. Beside her, in its cradle, the baby slept deeply, and one lamp burned on the low table opposite the door.

“He is leaving in the morning,” he said. “Aricia and Venutius are expecting him in Brigantia. I have arranged the loan, Boudicca, on behalf of myself and the other chiefs who wanted it.” He looked toward her for comment but she said nothing. She did not even blink. The eyes went on staring, and in the end he stretched himself beside her with a groan of pure exhaustion. “I am too tired to even undress myself,” he sighed. Before long his breathing deepened and he relaxed against her, but he did not feel the tears that trickled over her temples to wet his tangled hair.

After a polite but hurried meal eaten in the hall, Pudens and the soldiers said their farewells. None of them had slept well. Their faces were gray in the strong summer morning light, their eyes bleary, and Boudicca looked as though she had not rested at all. Saloc, who had been oddly attracted to her, tried to engage her in small talk while her husband pointed the tribunes to the northwest tracks, but she edged away from him and refused to take his hand. Finally Pudens mounted, the infantry formed ranks, and at a brusque command the little cavalcade set off toward the forest. For a moment Boudicca watched them go, new sunlight glimmering softly around them, then suddenly she picked up the hem of her tunic and raced after Pudens. He glanced back and saw her coming, and he reined in his fretting, impatient beast. Panting, she grasped his leather-shod heel.