‘We’ll make our way to his settlement tonight and then wait until dawn when the gates open and we’ll walk in under a branch of truce; he’ll be honour-bound to respect that. No one can kill a man who has come to parley before he has heard what he has to say.’
‘And after?’
‘Then he’s free to do whatever he wishes, but I don’t think that I’ll be in any danger because he’ll understand that in killing me, or handing me over to the druids, he’ll be signing his eventual death warrant.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I am, Vespasian, don’t worry about me; you just concentrate on getting to the harbour before dawn so that my men can take you back to the ship. With luck I’ll be waiting for them at the harbour when they return in the evening.’
Vespasian could see the logic of the argument and grimaced as he realised that in all likelihood he would be in more danger than the King. He grasped the hilt of his gladius and checked that the weapon was loose in its scabbard whilst trying to calm his growing fear. He looked over to the two marines sitting in the bow with the four men who would accompany Cogidubnus and prayed that he had chosen steady, stealthy, hard men as his companions.
The captive spoke to the oarsmen in their own tongue and pointed towards the shore; the rocks had started to fall away and Vespasian could see the sea, dappled by moonlight, curl inland. As the currach turned to larboard into the harbour he felt the swell decrease markedly and saw the dim outline of a small island, away to his right, planted squarely in front of the inlet’s mouth, sheltering it from the worst ravages of the sea. The oarsmen pulled with vigour, their oars biting into the calmer surface, propelling the boat faster as it snaked left and then right around the rocks, following the looping inlet. As the boat straightened out after the right turn they came to a long thin harbour with no view back out to sea; the rock wall that protected it dulled the constant roar of breaking waves and the creak of the oars seemed to be magnified in this strangely quiet haven. Vespasian felt a chill in the eerie silence as he looked up at the surrounding hills that tumbled down to the water’s edge; it was the same chill that had affected him on his approach to the Vale of Sullis. The power of the druids was near.
The oarsmen raised their sweeps and let the currach glide onto the shingle beach at the head of the harbour. The captive jumped out and steadied the craft as Vespasian, Cogidubnus and their companions splashed into the shallow water.
‘Stay out in the middle of the harbour whilst you wait for me to return,’ Vespasian ordered the oarsmen as the currach was pushed back out into the water.
Crunching across the shingle they passed through the collection of currachs drawn up on the pebbles and crossed the wide but low-running river that fed the inlet. Once on firmer, quieter ground, Cogidubnus exchanged a few words with the captive before turning to Vespasian. ‘He says that our paths lie together for the first couple of miles and then we’ll veer south to the settlement just before we reach the rock that he says is called Tagell by his people — it means “throat”.’
Vespasian forced a half-smile. ‘Then I pray that I don’t get swallowed.’
‘Don’t joke about it; that was my thought when he told me.’
Vespasian looked at the captive and signalled him to lead off, following the course of the river inland. Wrapping his dark cloak around his shoulders he hurried after the man, but then stopped abruptly, his hand flying to his sword hilt, as shouts came out of the gloom from all about, followed by rushing, shadowy figures.
He spun around looking for the boat but it had passed out into the middle of the harbour, too far to reach in time. ‘Go!’ he yelled at the oarsmen. ‘It’s a trap; get back to-’ Pain sheared through his skull and a blinding light flashed across his inner vision; then all was darkness.
Vespasian woke to see the half-moon shining down upon him from a sky alive with stars. He felt himself swaying gently; he tried to move his arms but found them to be constricted, pressed into his body. He realised that he was lying in a makeshift stretcher of a blanket or cloak tied onto two spears. He raised his head slightly, grimacing in pain, and could make out the huge form of Cogidubnus walking ahead of him, his arms behind his back — presumably tied there. He cursed inwardly and wondered how the Cornovii had known to expect them. But it was a futile exercise and he closed his eyes and succumbed once more to darkness.
*
Shouting, the grate of iron hinges and creaking of wood woke him and he looked up to see that he was passing through a gateway; the reek of unsanitised habitation sweetened by wood-smoke assaulted his nostrils. After a few score paces his bearers stopped and he heard the rasp of a heavy bolt being pulled back, then a door scraped open and he was carried into a dimly lit hut whose walls were covered with animal skins. Without much consideration for his comfort he was lowered to the ground; he was surrounded by half a dozen warriors, the tips of their spears a couple of feet from his face. One shouted at him incomprehensibly and gestured to the ground; Vespasian sat up and looked to where the man was pointing and saw the gaping mouth of a pit with an iron grille with a rope attached lying next to it. With no choice other than to comply he shuffled forward and, grabbing the rope, lowered himself down its ten-foot length. As he reached the bottom he looked back up; the warriors surrounded the pit’s rim, but then two moved aside and Cogidubnus was shoved into view and his bonds were cut. With what sounded like the most virulent of curses the King lowered himself down. The rope was withdrawn, the grille was placed over the entrance and then two huge logs were rolled onto it to hold it firm.
‘Where’re our men?’ Vespasian asked.
‘I don’t know. They’re still alive, though; they were taken away as we entered the settlement.’
‘How did they know to expect us?’
‘Again, I don’t know.’
‘We’ll just have to hope that Judoc listens to you before he does anything rash.’
‘He’s under no obligation to parley now as I didn’t enter the settlement under a branch of truce and I also came with an invader. He would be well within his rights to disembowel me, take out my tongue and eyes and leave me to die.’
Vespasian winced at the image as voices came from above and someone entered the hut. ‘Well, perhaps this is him; we’ll find out how amenable he is to negotiation.’
He looked up; a figure walked into view and squatted down by the grille, holding a flaming torch to illuminate the pit.
Vespasian’s heart jumped as he looked into the triumphant, malicious eyes of Alienus.
‘I’m gratified that you look so surprised to see me, legate,’ the spy said with a smile spreading across his face. ‘No doubt you thought that I’d be running back to Caratacus with my copies of Plautius’ orders?’
‘It was assumed that was what you would do.’
‘Ah, assumptions; dangerous things, wouldn’t you agree, legate, seeing as you’re in your present predicament because of one? Did Plautius really think that he could cancel the orders that I purloined and I wouldn’t realise that he knew I had them — that he must have let me have them?’
‘It had crossed my mind.’
‘And yet here you are as I knew you would be when I read Plautius’ obvious attempt to lure Caratacus out into the open. I was intrigued to know what he would try to set up if I went back to get more of his misinformation and he didn’t disappoint me; it might even have been construed as clever had he tried it on a lesser mind than mine. Unfortunately for him and you I didn’t waste time taking the rubbish to Caratacus but instead rushed straight here to await your arrival. And you’ve duly obliged me; more than that, you’ve brought my usurping cousin with you. That, I confess, I didn’t expect; it’s almost too delicious to be true.’