Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

‘The first great gamble! Then Acco helped by preaching a great change, but I began to worry that the revolt would turn into something too big altogether. What would victory mean if the province lay in ruins? Yet the pebbles were already rolling down the cliff and more and more boulders joined them. Someone killed Fuscus, but he had already done his mischief, driving chieftains into debt before offering them a way out if they joined the plot. My nephew thought we could weaken Acco by beating him to the treasures on Mona. It rather sounds as if that old rogue was reading our purpose and waiting. Still, since he was also Domitius and part of the conspiracy, perhaps we should not be so surprised. Arviragus made it all more complicated, and I do not know whether my nephew colluded with him from the start. What do you think of my nephew?’

‘An able man, my lord, clever and ambitious. I should not say that he is ever troubled by conscience.’

The legate spun around, grinning. ‘Yes, that is about right. I would like to believe that he still feels he is doing his best for me and our princeps, if only because he must realise that we remain most likely to win. Yet who knows?’

Ferox wondered whether Crispinus was acting under the prince’s orders when he tried to poison Enica. Did he think the murder would strengthen Arviragus or make the chiefs hate and distrust him? He did not like to think of her choking her life out, and Audagus had been a good man, who had not deserved that death. He sat there, making no answer, for it was clear the legate expected none.

‘I have orders for you, Ferox.’

He stood obediently. ‘My lord.’

‘When we win, Arviragus must die. A prisoner might be inconvenient, so I need his head and nothing else. Your task will be to bring it to me. Find him on the battlefield or hunt him down afterwards. You may have as many men as you wish, but find him and kill him. My nephew I would prefer alive. His presence with the enemy would be embarrassing if it become common knowledge. His death would be disturbing. He needs to be found in one piece and then perhaps we can learn what he has been doing, and make sure no one else ever learns of it. If he has to die, it will be in the weeks to come. Perhaps a fall while riding or a sudden fever.’

‘My lord,’ Ferox said, his voice flat.

The legate rubbed his chin. ‘Go and rest. Soon I shall have a word with your wife, if that is what she is. Do you know that Crispinus suggested months ago that you become her consort to strengthen her claim to rule the tribe?’

‘He hinted, my lord. It sounded improbably bizarre.’

‘Yes, that is what I thought, so I was inclined to dismiss it. And I felt sorry for the poor girl – well, wouldn’t anybody? Still, now that I learn she is so fluent with a sword, perhaps it is too dangerous a task for anyone else.’ The governor smiled.

‘I am not sure we are married, my lord.’ Each time he repeated it, the words seemed a little more hollow, but he was too tired to explore the idea.

A legionary led him to a tent on the far side of the row of horses and mules brought by the legate and his staff. It was one of the larger ones, the type given to a centurion on campaign, and to his surprise it was empty of other occupants. A wide straw mattress lay on the floor, with blankets and furs. There was a platter with fruit, bread and wine, and a bowl of water. The fatigue was overwhelming him, but when Philo appeared, it somehow did not seem strange.

‘The legate brought me from the south,’ the boy explained. ‘Gannascus’ girl as well, although she is safe at Coria.’

Ferox let himself be shaved and cleaned, for he no longer had the will and strength to resist. Philo took his clothes, nose wrinkling even more than usual in his disgust at their state. He had brought his master a long tunic for the night and everything he needed for the next day. Eventually the boy left and Ferox sat cross-legged on the ground and poured a cup of wine. It was expensive, a present, he guessed, from the governor, and he shuddered a little as he sniffed it. In the old days when he had drunk to cover his emptiness, he knew that he would not have shuddered and that encouraged him.

He was just about to go to sleep when the flap of the tent was lifted and she came in, closing it behind her. She was wrapped in a heavy fur cloak, but her hair was coiled and curled like a Roman lady and when she let the cloak fall she wore a sleeveless dress. There was something bunched in her hands.

‘Are we married, do you think?’ Claudia Enica asked in a soft voice.

‘I do not know. What do you think?’

‘I do not know either, but I think it is meant to be.’ Her seriousness surprised him, but then she managed a smile. ‘You are mine, as I have said.’ She opened her hands to show a piece of material. ‘It is more red than orange, but the best I could find.’

Claudia Enica lifted the veil and covered her head. A Roman bride wore the flamma, an orange veil. She was more nervous that Ferox had ever seen, even when Acco had stood by them with the sacrificial blade. He sensed that she was afraid, and a wave of tenderness swept over him.

‘ Ego Gaius, tibi Gaia ,’ he whispered. Where I am Gaius, you are Gaia – and it sounded so natural that it surprised him. They were the old words of two become one, male and female halves of the same whole. He wondered whether Acco laughed from the Otherworld.

‘ Ego Gaia, tibi Gaius ,’ she replied.

Ferox lifted the veil and they kissed. Enica was enthusiastic, if clumsy like a child, and he felt her body stiffen nervously. He pulled away a little.

‘It will be all right,’ he whispered.

Claudia Enica hung her head, knowing that he was surprised. ‘I talk a lot,’ she said.

‘I’d noticed that. Do not worry.’ He ran his fingers lightly over her arm. She must have been cold with her short sleeves, but she did not shy away from his touch. He leaned forward and kissed her again, and their bodies merged, Gaius and Gaia become one.

Ferox woke before dawn, to the sound of the camp stirring. Enica was gone, but the veil lay beside him. He reached out and held it tightly.

THE ARMY MARCHED south under a grey sky, and most of the time Ferox rode with the legate, for in spite of Tertullianus’ pleas for an additional centurion with his first cohort of II Augusta, Neratius Marcellus wanted an extra officer for his own small staff.

Enica had gone, not just from his tent but from the camp, and Vindex had gone with her, as had Sepenestus and Gannascus. The legate obviously knew where they had gone, but said nothing other than to assure him that they would be as safe as they could be with the column. ‘Some loyal Brigantes went with them.’ Ferox wondered why the legate had changed his mind about the advantage of trumpeting the presence of the high queen with the column. Even more he hoped that the legate had judged the loyalty of the tribesmen well.

Last night was a like a dream, save that it had not faded in memory. Ferox felt a contentment he had not known for a long time, deeper even than the thrill after the first time he had lain with Sulpicia Lepidina. Oddly what little anger he had felt at Lepidina’s betrayal had gone as well, leaving the fondness of happy memory. Their son was a wonderful gift, even if Ferox could never declare his love openly, and he still trusted the lady to care for him.

Early in the day Ferox was sent back with orders for Cerialis, who was in command of the infantry forming the rearguard, mostly composed of his own Batavians, with their moss-topped helmets looking like fur until you came very close. The prefect was affable, and Ferox felt an odd relief that the affair with the man’s wife was now over forever. He had always liked Cerialis too much to enjoy cuckolding the man, even though he knew the marriage was one of advantage rather than affection, let alone love.