Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

The other two went to Ferox and one was carrying manacles like the ones binding Prasto’s arms. He scrabbled for his sword until they kicked it out of his reach. Then they kicked him twice, knocking him down as he tried to rise. He rolled away, and as he lay on his chest a boot pressed hard down onto his back. His arms were wrenched back behind him, making him grunt with pain. He felt the weight of the manacles and heard the snaps as they closed shut. The man standing on him pressed down harder, grinding his face into the floor.

‘Enough!’ Acco barked, and the boot was lifted away. Ferox struggled to breathe. Beside him he saw that Enica was trying to sit up, but her limbs lacked strength and she kept slipping. A warrior appeared on either side of her and she was dragged to her feet, arms pinned behind her back. Her belt was unclasped and it and the two swords clattered onto the floor.

‘Sit him up.’ Ferox was turned over and then lifted. His head was clearing and it was getting easier to see and think again. Enica’s head kept nodding and her eyes blinked again and again. She did little to resist when one of the men produced a rope and tied her hands behind her back. The same man then tied Ferox’s ankles together.

‘You must think I am very dangerous,’ he croaked. The warrior ignored him.

Acco knelt beside the blinded and mutilated Prasto. ‘Did you ever think that you could escape punishment? Was it just jealousy?’ He spoke softly, his tone was that of a parent disappointed in a child who kept on failing. ‘You know it was not, don’t you? This was your fate. You just thought that you were being clever. Yet for all your wealth you were never free, for in the end you had to suffer. You know that, don’t you? You cannot betray the gods and escape. This is merely the start, for the curse will follow your soul in the Otherworld. Sightless and footless, you will crawl along and all will know what you did.’

The druid stood up, knife ready. There was a shout and one of the Brigantes leaped into the chamber. He carried no shield, but his slim spatha was held low, ready to thrust. Arviragus came behind him, blood spattered on his face.

‘Stay!’ he shouted. He lifted his own sword, as his eyes flicked around the chamber. Crispinus came next. A warrior held a blade to Enica’s neck and the men went still.

‘It is true,’ the prince said, staring at the circle of objects.

Acco ran his hand through the old man’s thin and dirty hair, the gesture surprisingly tender. He neither looked up nor answered the prince. His fingers touched the empty eye sockets and the scars on the man’s face.

‘Drop your swords!’ Arviragus shouted. None of the warriors moved.

‘Your story in this world is over,’ the druid said to Prasto, and cut his throat. Blood gushed. For all his wounds the old man still had plenty and it splashed over him and onto the floor. His mouth opened and closed without sound, until he slumped down.

At last Acco deigned to notice the new arrivals. ‘You are welcome here, prince of the Brigantes.’

Arviragus took a step forward, pushing past his guard. ‘Tell your warriors to lay down their arms.’ Another Brigantian trooper came into the chamber, with Cocceius following. The lad’s eyes were wide with fear, but Ferox felt it was the Brigantes who were even more nervous, fearing Acco and his power.

‘That is not necessary.’ The druid wiped the flint knife on his clothes and tucked it into his belt. ‘Neither is that.’ He nodded to the warrior threatening Claudia Enica. The man lowered his sword. ‘You have no power here to match mine.’

‘We have five swords.’ Crispinus did not sound confident. ‘Even if you slay us you will pay a high price.’ He spoke in the language of the tribes, the words slow, but clear enough.

‘You do not understand, Roman.’ Acco’s soft voice somehow carried around the chamber more powerfully than anyone else’s. ‘But let me speak in a way you will understand.’ He had switched to Latin. ‘There are thirty warriors outside. I am guessing you saw them and that is how you found the courage to follow these two.’ He gestured at Enica and Ferox. ‘That is what you will think at least. For the truth is that I summoned you all. You know this, do you not, prince?’

‘Ferox, is there another way out?’ the tribune asked.

‘I do not think so.’ Ferox’s throat felt thick and it was difficult to talk. The draught had taken the fumes up the tunnel, which meant that it was the only way in, unless another door was sealed tight. He had seen no sign of another entrance when he had searched above the mound.

Acco paid them no attention, and instead walked towards the Romans. ‘Come, prince. I have what I need. Will you take what you want and go? The warriors outside will not hinder you unless I order it.’

Arviragus sheathed his sword.

‘Can you trust him?’ Crispinus’ whisper came out louder than he had intended.

The druid spun around slowly, waving his hand around the circle, then turned and walked away. Arviragus licked his lips and took a pace towards it. ‘This is why we came,’ he said. The next step was a little more confident. He rubbed his hands together nervously.

‘You may make two choices, prince,’ Acco said. ‘Just as we agreed.’

Enica frowned, her thoughts still clouded. ‘What is he saying?’

Her brother stared at the circle of objects and did not even glance towards her. ‘It is meant to be. There is no other way.’ He knelt beside the helmet and cuirass. For a moment he hesitated, then he touched them with the tenderness of a lover. He smiled and lifted them. ‘Take these,’ he told the nearest of his guards.

‘One more, prince. Two souls for two things. That is the bargain.’

‘What?’ Enica almost spat out the word. ‘What have you done, brother?’ Ferox guessed that he and the lady were the druid’s price.

Still he did not face her. ‘It is the price of glory.’ For a while he held his hand over the mirror, until he shook his head. Next he stared for a long time at the neatly folded cloak of Claudius and Alexander. ‘No,’ he said in the end. ‘It must be this.’ No longer hesitant he strode over and snatched the torc of Caratacus and the high kings of the south.

‘So be it.’ Acco almost shouted the words and they echoed around the chamber.

‘Have I been wise?’ Arviragus asked as the sounds died away.

‘That is for you to discover. Now you must leave. You will not be harmed.’

‘What about them?’ Crispinus asked. ‘My centurion and the lady should come with us.’

Acco said nothing.

‘They stay,’ Arviragus said after a moment. ‘Let us go quickly.’

Acco nodded to the small warrior. ‘He will guide you and see that you come to no harm. Leave and live with your choices.’

The prince frowned. He was holding the torc and bent it back so that he could slip it around his neck. He swelled visibly as if it gave him strength. ‘Come on,’ he said.

‘We can’t leave them.’ Cocceius stood in the doorway and raised his sword. ‘They must come with us, sir. They just must.’ The lad sounded confused, but very determined.

‘Out of my way, boy!’ Arviragus yelled.

Crispinus shrugged. ‘Best obey, lad. Or we all die.’

‘It’s wrong, sir, and you know it.’ The young soldier sounded surprised at his own defiance.

Arviragus half turned back. ‘What do you think, my Lord Crispinus?’ Suddenly he plucked a sword from one of the guards, shifted his hand onto the grip and drove it into the lad’s belly, grabbing him by the shoulder to pull him further onto the blade. Cocceius was wide-eyed in surprise, gasping, but the prince merely threw him down. He ripped the sword free and stabbed down again. Cocceius went still. ‘Come on,’ the prince said, tossing the bloodied blade back to his guard.