The other large hut was empty. ‘My brother is not here yet.’ Most of the other houses were occupied, although a few clans were still arriving. The sleet had stopped, but an icy wind buffeted them as Ferox and Vindex took a look around.
‘Why do this at this time of year?’ Ferox complained.
‘We’re northerners,’ the scout replied.
Enica spent the rest of the day seated beside the fire, as in turn the chiefs came to greet her. ‘I wish I had the mirror,’ she said before the first arrived. For want of anything else, she was wearing the dress Crassus had given her, but had her hair unbraided so that it fell past her shoulders. A rider had come bringing her a package, and from it she had produced a slim gold torc, bracelets, and a brooch shaped like a galloping horse. There were more bulky objects wrapped in the cloth, but for the moment she left them there. The man had also brought a long sword, its handle shaped like a man and with a blunt tip. ‘Clumsy,’ Enica said as she drew it and gave a few cuts. ‘More like reaping barley.’
‘Have you ever done that, wife?’
‘Be quiet, husband. This sword was carried by my great-great-grandfather in the battle where he fell.’
‘Encouraging.’
On the next day the chieftains met around a fire in the centre of the circle. Enica stayed in the house. ‘It is the tradition,’ she explained. ‘First they must decide that the tribe needs a high queen.’
‘Or king?’
‘Now why would they want that, husband?’
‘Romans fear powerful women, and these men grow more Roman by the day. They’ve even had latrine pits dug.’
‘We are not Silures,’ Enica said, wrinkling her nose, ‘and do not live like swine.’ She sighed. ‘But you are right. The old ways are dying, and the leadership of mystical women is one of the old ways. If they are good Romans they may not want a queen any more.’
‘The Carvetii will,’ Vindex said firmly. ‘Audagus is for you, lady, and he is a tough old bird. Not Roman where it really counts.’
‘I know. Your father is a good man, but the rest… Tell me, husband, why are men such fools?’
‘Practice,’ Ferox suggested.
Longinus snorted with amusement. ‘Aye, true enough. Why is your brother not here, lady?’
‘Arviragus likes to be dramatic. He must be here by sunset to make a claim, so he will come at sunset or slightly before, just when the chieftains are wondering whether or not he will come at all.’
A dozen horsemen arrived just as the sun started to slip beneath the hills to the west. The prince was at their head, armour and helmet gleaming, riding a dark horse with a white star on its forehead. His red cloak streamed out as he cantered towards the ring of chiefs. Beside him one of the royal guards carried a standard with a bronze figure of a rearing horse on top. The other ten all had spears, each one with a severed head driven onto the point. More heads dangled from their horses’ manes. Each trophy had a yellow, waxy look, and some were missing eyes or showed other scars from the beaks of carrion fowl. Arviragus himself held up a chain in one hand, and behind his horse ran a scruffy, white-haired and bearded figure in a tinned cuirass.
‘Dramatic,’ Enica said as she peeked through the doorway. ‘Even a stallion with the same mark as Venutius’ favourite. And he led a tribune in chains just as he now has Crispinus.’
They rode round the seated chieftains three times. Then the escort peeled away and the prince walked his mount over to the remaining royal house, accompanied only by his standard-bearer and his captive. Some of the chiefs cheered.
‘Vindex.’
‘Yes, lady.’
‘Go to the chieftains and tell them that this night they shall come and share my meal. Tell my brother, as well.’ She noticed their questioning looks. ‘It is the custom. A royal lady must feed the gathering. Servants from the royal house will come soon with wine, beer, bowls and platters, and with some provisions. It is up to us to make the meal.’ Just for once the lady looked uncertain. ‘Can any of you cook?’
In the end Longinus took over, after swearing that Ferox would poison them all if he was not careful. The old veteran made a stew in a cauldron brought by the servants, and it certainly smelled appealing, which at least was something. Three wooden chairs with high, intricately carved backs were brought and placed on one side of the iron guard around the central fire.
‘You will sit on my left, husband, and you will wear these.’ Enica had unwrapped the bundle to produce a helmet and armour. The cuirass was simple mail, but obvious repairs with slightly smaller rings showed where rents had been made in past fights. The helmet was even older, perhaps centuries old, bronze, with triangular cheek pieces, a shallow neck, and high dome topped by a tall diamond-shaped plate. There were dents in the metal, and one of the cheek pieces was held on by wire, but both were surprisingly light and comfortable for all their age and hard use.
‘Venutius was a warrior,’ his granddaughter said, ‘and so are you. Sit beside me and keep silent unless you have no other choice. A Silure should be good at that.’
‘May I scowl at them?’
‘By all means.’ Enica sat in the central chair, having made sure that it stood on a pile of turves so that she would be higher than anyone else. Ferox felt oddly proud as he sat beside her. At times she was magnificent, and he was finding that part of him dreamed that this marriage was not a sham. Another part of him wondered whether any of them would leave here alive.
Audagus was the first to arrive, clad in cloak, tunic and trousers, and with a sword at his belt.
‘Greetings to the Carvetii,’ Enica said. ‘Come, sit, and dine with me.’ The old man bowed. A warrior was with him, his face strikingly similar to Vindex’s, and probably another son and perhaps legitiame. The chief unclasped his belt and handed it and his sword to his attendant.
As the chief took his seat, the warrior stepped back to stand by the wall. Enica leaned down to whisper to Ferox. ‘Bet I know what he’s thinking, the old devil. Look at her, nice ti—’ Another chieftain appeared, and she jerked upright. ‘Greetings to the Setantii. Come, sit, and dine with me.’
So it went on, each man greeted by his clan and not his name. The house soon became very full, the air growing warmer by the minute. When the last had taken his seat, there was just a narrow lane left between the sitting men, leading to the open space closest to the fire. No one spoke. Ferox noticed that Enica was flexing the fingers of her right hand as they rested on the arm of the chair. That was the only sign of impatience.
Arviragus appeared last, and unlike the chieftains, he too wore armour and helmet, as well as the gold torc brought from Mona. He led in Crispinus, still chained around the neck, and strode past the chieftains. In the space by the fire, he dropped the chain. ‘Sit,’ he commanded the tribune, who obeyed, eyes fixed on the floor. The prince turned to Enica.
‘Sister.’
‘Brother,’ she replied.
Arviragus stared for a moment at the central chair, then strutted across to the empty one on her right and sat down.