The White Mare: The Dalraida Trilogy, Book One (29 page)

He looked deep into her eyes, trying to see if she was lying, attempting to kick his normally sharp instincts back into action, pulling them away from the power of her body.

‘It is a daring thing to do,’ she purred now. ‘What a name it will win you; what renown!’

It was as if she read his mind. How could she know what he hungered for, even more than he hungered for her body?
Renown
.

He turned the treaty idea over in his mind. He had no intention of speaking with any Romans in any Roman camp, of course, but … the Epidii warriors were not yet quite ready to face the invaders in battle. Some sort of false treaty might just keep Dunadd safe until he had his own army up to full strength. Then he shook his head. No, that was madness. He only wanted information, for now.

‘Why take me, Samana? I am a stranger. If you wish for a treaty so much, then take one of your northern princes.’ He folded his arms over his chest, as a gust of wind flapped the edges of his cloak.

Samana snorted delicately. ‘Our princes are not leaders! Their bulls and their lands are their pride, and in this matter their hearts would rule their heads. You though,’ and she put her hand up to his cheek, ‘you have a great mind, a king’s mind. And there is one more thing.’

‘What is that?’

She dropped her hand. ‘If we fight, the Romans will win, make no mistake. How long will your own land stand free then, Eremon? They will turn their greedy eyes on Erin, and by then she will be alone.’

He faced the west, and blew out his held breath. ‘If the Epidii found out that I met with Romans, I would be killed as a traitor.’

‘No one will know until after the fact, and then they will be too pleased at what you have to tell them, and too admiring of your bravery.’

‘And what of Rhiann?’

‘Just tell her what you intend to do and why.’ She was dismissive. ‘You are her husband, after all. Or does the great prince need his wife’s leave?’

Stung, Eremon said gruffly, ‘No, of course not.’ He paused, chewing his lip. Conaire always said that he was too cautious, and perhaps he was, at times, right. Maybe the wildness of Samana’s bed had loosened something in him, for he found himself saying, ‘I will go as your guard, but only to seek information. I make no promises about any treaty. And you will stay with me at all times.’

‘Do you not trust me?’

‘I do not trust them.’

After returning from the beach, Rhiann sat on the bed and listened to Eremon in silence, her fingers splayed over the drying salt-stains on her cloak. She let him fill the space with explanations and excuses, but behind it all she could still sense the taint of Samana’s magic, clinging to his words, and the stink of stale sweat and male seed that he had brought back to their bed last night.

So this is the way it would be.

At last she spoke, her throat thick with disgust. ‘Why risk yourself by going alone?’

‘Because I am meant to be her escort, and one man will attract no attention. And there is something else.’

‘Yes?’ She began to unwind the wool wrap from her neck.

‘I know very well what you think of this escapade, but weighed up against what I can gain, I consider it worth the risk.
For me
. My decisions risk my men all the time, and you cannot know what it costs me. For once, I’ll make a move that affects only me.’

‘You will not be swayed from this, will you? Even though we need you at Dunadd, and you risk the safety of the Epidii with such a rash action?’
An action based on lust, not reason
! she cried in her mind. But she could not say that to him; he would think her jealous.

He looked down, tapping his finger on the carved back of a chair by the hearth. ‘What I do, I do for the Epidii.’

‘No.’ She raised her chin at him. ‘You do it for yourself – you may as well be honest about it!’

Guilt flared in his face for one moment, then he mastered it and drew himself straighter. ‘What I will tell you, is that on this I will stand firm, no matter what you or even Conaire say to me.’

She shrugged and turned to the wall, determined not to argue, though her chest burned. ‘Then I won’t try. But I think you make a mistake.’

‘Then it is my mistake.’

Eremon did not expect Rhiann to say farewell, but as he leaned down from his horse to grasp Conaire’s hand at the gateway, his eyes darted around of their own accord.

He did concede that the expedition seemed foolhardy. He was not even entirely sure what he would gain. This was disquieting, for he was used to being sure of himself. But since their arrival at Samana’s dun, everything had taken on a more charged air; everything felt different. Rhiann was ever more remote, while his body’s thirst was being slaked by Samana. It was a heady and disturbing combination.

All of his life his feelings had been absolute, his plans laid well in advance – until his uncle turned on him, disrupting the flow of his destiny for ever. So perhaps, now, he should just give himself up to the shifting course of life in this strange, wild country.

He glanced at Samana, as she sat neatly on her horse in the bright morning sun, resplendent in a green cloak that showed off the shine of her hair. She did not look as if she were undertaking a dangerous sortie into an enemy camp. Distrust flickered for a moment.

But they are not her enemy
.

Conaire was regarding him with shadowed eyes. ‘For the last time, I fear for you on this quest of yours.’

Eremon’s horse shifted impatiently and he stilled him, forcing a smile. ‘Are you questioning my swordsmanship?’

‘Never,’ said Conaire. ‘But I have been by your side through everything. Only I know your weaknesses in battle, and how to cover them.’

‘My friend, we are going into a camp of five thousand Romans. If it comes to a pitched battle, even you could not save me. But do not worry: I will keep nice and quiet, and look stupid.’

They had replayed this conversation many times over the past two days, and so although Conaire’s face darkened, he did not say anything more. Eremon put his hand on his foster-brother’s shoulder. ‘I gave in to your demand that I take our men with me, as close to the camp as is safe. Now you’ll give in to mine. I need you to stay and look after Rhiann. I trust only you to keep her safe, and if needed, to return her to her people.’

‘I will stake my life on that. I trust Rhiann, Eremon.’ As he said this, Conaire glanced at Samana.

Eremon fought down a surge of anger. It was fine for Conaire to question Eremon’s choice of woman – his foster-brother had his pick. He was not tied to such a marriage.

He wheeled his horse around. ‘I will see you in a week.’

‘Watch your back, brother!’ Conaire called after him.

For all the way down the dun path, Eremon sensed Conaire’s eyes on him, warmer on his shoulders than the morning sun. Yet as the riders
rounded the ridge and were lost from sight in the fields, he felt the severing.

He did not look back.

Chapter 27

T
he Roman camp was three days by horse to the north-west, where the River Forth spilled out into its great inlet. For most of that way they crossed flat farmland, dark-furrowed under a clear sky. Eremon found it difficult to travel in the open at ease, and almost wished for a heavy rainstorm to sweep in, obscuring the colours of their cloaks, hiding them with a curtain of grey drizzle. But it was not to be; leaf-bud had bloomed early, and the farmers hurried to sow their new crops under a pale sun, and high, scudding clouds.

Of the two Roman patrols they did meet, neither challenged them once they saw Samana. He found this even more unsettling than the piercing black eyes raking him over from head to foot. But now it was too late to turn back.

‘I have been puzzling over something,’ Eremon remarked to Samana on the second day, as they rode side by side along the edge of a field.

‘Yes?’

‘Why did the Romans advance so quickly, and then stop as suddenly?’

There was a fraction of hesitation. ‘I can tell you that easily,’ Samana replied, ‘for it was common talk among the soldiers. Last leaf-fall, their emperor – this Vespasian – died. He was close to Agricola, and he had authorized the advance. His son, Titus, has succeeded him, and it seems he has more pressing concerns than Alba. He ordered Agricola to halt the advance. That is all I know.’

‘Well, it solves the riddle for me. I would have wished, though, that something more serious had stayed Agricola’s hand – illness, perhaps, or problems in the south.’

‘Ah, I have heard no rumours of any such difficulties.’

‘Then long may Titus be occupied elsewhere.’

Eremon had no intention of taking his men closer than necessary, and despite Rori’s protests, he bid them stay and camp in a hidden glen, high
in the hill range that rose south of the Forth. Then he and Samana carried on, setting up their leather lean-to that night in a thick copse of hazel trees above a stream ford.

Faintly, the whinnies of horses carried over the night air, and he could detect a distant hum of voices. They were so close now, so close.

It was then that the fear rose, and he wondered if he had indeed made a mistake.

‘So your prim little son-in-law has gone back to Rome?’ The moon had long since sunk to her bed, yet even after her ride through the night Samana was awake, poring over Agricola’s maps, a cup of wine in her hand.

‘Tacitus has taken my assurances of support to Titus.’

‘And what will your plans be then?’

‘Nothing, until he confirms my orders to advance. For now, there is much to do to consolidate my new frontier in your lands.’ Agricola leaned back in his camp chair, stretching his neck muscles. ‘I have no doubt you can read maps well enough by now, Samana. Yet still I see no results. The surrender of the Taexali and Vacomagi kings has not been forthcoming.’

She sipped her wine, looking out at him from underneath her brows. ‘I will get you results soon. I need more time.’

‘I thought that a woman in your position would know more about your northern neighbours. Could it be that your much-vaunted status is not all it seems, my dark witch?’

She hated that word! Putting down the goblet, Samana took his hand and slipped it inside her gown, so he could feel a nipple standing up hard against his palm. ‘Why, my lord, it seems I give you more than just information. Be patient for the one, as you do not need to be patient for the other!’

Agricola said nothing, but reached out with his other hand and grasped the wine cup, moving it so it could not spill on to the maps. Samana kept the smile on her face. Curse this Roman! He was unlike any man she had ever met – his mind was of equal strength to his loins. She would need all her considerable talents to deal with him. Happily, despite his worn face and grey hair, she did not have to pretend her moans with him. Power was desirable; the face it wore did not need to be.

She sat down on his lap, wriggling a little to settle herself. ‘As it happens, my lord, I do have a present for you.’

Agricola raised one eyebrow. Samana was toying with the brooch fastening his cloak, wetting her painted lips with her tongue. ‘I have heard it said in the camp that you are looking over the sea to Erin.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Would you be pleased with a prince of that land, then, to smooth your way?’

Agricola looked down at her fingers, moving over his chest. ‘Are you asking whether I would be interested in a coward? A man who would sell his people for his own ends?’

She was silent, smiling, knowing him.

‘Such a man would be welcome, indeed.’

At that she laughed. She had more in common with these people every day.

‘But your men, whatever their faults, are not cowards, Samana. Why would he entreat with me? And where did you find him?’

‘He has married into the Epidii in the north, through my cousin. So, as yet, he does not have a deep loyalty to Alba …’

‘You must be a good match, then.’

Samana ignored that. ‘He has influence through his wife, and I understand it is growing. He is a man of stature and strategy. If you show him your might, I feel sure that he will convince the rest of the tribes to make treaty with you, as I have done for the Votadini.’

Agricola looked at her with speculation. ‘And will he also send the Epidii king and his nobles to their deaths, my pretty? Does he know of your own manipulations?’ She avoided his eyes, and he laughed. ‘Well, then, what do you get out of it?’

‘I want a Roman land, that is all. Roads, and peace …’

‘Yes, and riches, I understand well. And if it comes to war, perhaps a certain prince of Erin to rule the defeated, with you as queen?’

Samana looked up, her eyes deliberately wide and shocked. ‘Oh, no, my lord! I would wish to stay with you – you must know that!’

‘I have a wife. You would give up your status, such as it is, to follow me around as a camp whore?’

She controlled her flash of temper before he saw it, and instead stroked the skin beneath his ear. When she spoke, her voice was husky, as he liked it. ‘If the tribes make treaty with you, all of Britannia will be under your control. You won’t need to be on the march any more. I will live wherever you wish.’