The Queen's Brooch

by Henry Treece

  He said to her, ‘I have no further use for the brooch, girl. Take it as a gift from me for driving the boys away.’

  The girl looked at the bronze stag in her narrow palm, then back at him with puzzled wide eyes. She said hoarsely, ‘You do not mean it. No one would give away such a brooch. I cannot take such a fine thing, what would I do with it? Someone would kill me for it. I own only what I stand up in, and this distaff. They would know and would kill me, the night-robbers.’

  Marcus said, ‘Very well, put it into my tunic. But I would like you to have it when they take my body down from this stake.’

  She wafted the flies from him, then began to scratch her head and bite her lip. Gazing up at him she said, ‘I am of the Saxones, and my village is by the river Albis. My name is Gerd and I have warriors for my father and brothers. Not one of my kinsmen has died in his bed for ten generations. We trace our family back to Woden.’

  Marcus almost smiled then, but thought better of it. He nodded gravely and said, ‘That is a fine record, Gerd. Tell me, are you a slave here in Londinium?’ She shook her tangled head and said proudly, ‘We of the Saxones have never been slaves. If they tried to make slaves of us, we should cut our throats with a piece of flint, or should make ourselves starve to death rather than serve them. I came on a ship to this place when my village died in the drought last year. My cousin, Brand, brought me and set me on the shore. He is a good man and a pirate. His ship lies off the island of Vectis through the summer. He gets good pickings from the Roman ships that pass back and forth. They are very stupid, the Romans.’

  Marcus said, ‘I am a Roman, believe it or not.’

  Gerd stared at him and said without smiling, ‘I thought you were a British warrior from the way you speak. But now I think you must be a Roman, to be so stupid and hang up like this. You have many cuts and bruises on you, but they will not kill you. I have seen worse wounds on my father and my brothers, and they always lived, until the drought came and killed them. Always they brought their wounds to the women of the village. My mother knew all the cures, and gathered herbs for various wounds. No, you will not die, unless they starve you to death on this stake.’

  She tore a length from the hem of her robe and wiped the sweat from his face. Then she looked round to where the three merchants were having their stalls set up, just by the wooden gates of the city.

  Suddenly she began to walk away. ‘Do not be afraid,’ she said, ‘I am not leaving you. I will come back.’

  After a while the three merchants left their stalls in the charge of slaves and came walking towards the stake, led by Gerd who tried to hurry them along. Marcus even thought she would strike at them with her distaff.

  Orosius came to him first, smiling, and said, ‘I wondered what had happened to you, Spaniard. I have looked for you in the streets. They seem to have taken a dislike to you. Well, at least I can fetch you a cup of wine and some honey-cakes that I had thought to eat myself at midday.’ Ochter the Balt said gruffly, ‘This fellow would do better eating a piece of beef and drinking a horn of northern ale. That would put the heart back in him.’

  Gerd pushed him aside. ‘He is too weak to eat and drink like you fat folk,’ she said sharply. ‘Stand aside and let the Armenian put salves on his wounds.’

  Ochter smiled at her and said, ‘You speak like a true woman of the northlands. If I had a daughter such as you, I would be a proud man. Does your master want to sell you? How much does he want for you V But she was not listening to him. She was almost dragging Ula Buriash forward by the sleeve of his robe.

  And after a while, when the Armenian had put ointment into the shoulder wound and had bound Marcus about the

  chest with tight strips of linen, Ula Buriash said, ‘Such cures ask for payment. Has he anything to give in return?’ Gerd swung on him in fury. ‘What,’ she said, her eyes and nostrils wide, ‘you dare to ask such a thing from one who cannot help himself? Are you a true man or another sort of thief?’

  The Armenian held out his hands and raised his shoulders in protest. The other merchants smiled and nodded at her in agreement. Orosius said, ‘Ula is only teasing, girl. He is always the same. Bargaining is in his blood, but he means no harm.’

  Then Gerd turned on him and said, ‘And you, what will you do for this man? Will you buy him and set him free?’ Orosius said gravely, ‘I would, if he was for sale, little one. But I think that he is being punished for something, and if I interfered I would lose my licence to trade here. You understand, a merchant is at the mercy of the city authorities. He cannot do as he would wish always.’

  Gerd spat in the dust. ‘Licences, mercy!’ she said. ‘City authorities! They are just words, merchant. Show that you are a man, and buy him. Then you can set him free again.’

  The Spaniard’s face was troubled. He said slowly, ‘I cannot break the law, little one. How can you ask me to break the law of the land I trade in?’

  Gerd almost struck him with the stick, but suddenly the big Balt Ochter took her by the wrist and said, ‘There, war-maiden, you are too ready with that distaff of yours. Try to learn that you can get your own way without beating out the brains of all who hold another opinion.’

  Then he passed by her and taking a sharp knife from his robe, bent and cut the thongs that held Marcus by the ankles. So, holding his arm about the Roman to support him, he reached up and slashed away the wrist thongs, then let Marcus slide gently to the ground.

  They all looked at Ochter in surprise, but he only smiled, wiped the blade of his knife and put it away again.

  ‘I shall sail out of Londinium on the afternoon tide,’ he said thickly. ‘I do not think there is any more trade to be done now. There are other markets a man may trade in. Britain is not the only place in the world, thanks be to Woden. I think I shall pack up straightway and, if I can find a comfortable boat, set up my stall somewhere in Gaul.’

  He said no more but walked back slowly towards the striped awnings.

  Orosius said then, ‘Well, we have broken the law, and we cannot mend what we have broken. If you two would care to take ship with me, we will sail down to Gades. I do not think anyone will molest us. The seas are very quiet, I hear, at the moment.’

  Gerd looked at Marcus, but he shook his head. ‘I must stay,’ he answered. ‘I would like to see Gades, but I must stay.’

  Then Gerd said, ‘I must stay too. This man needs someone to look after him. Besides, I have promised to meet my cousin, Brand, later in the year. He has a business off the island of Vectis.’

  Orosius smiled thinly. ‘I have heard of his business,’ he said. ‘It is something to do with shipping, I understand.’

  Gerd gave him a stern glance. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, ‘And on your way down to Gades he might even do business with you, merchant.’

  The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders. ‘He will find that I drive a hard bargain,’ he said. ‘I do not travel without protection. Your cousin Brand might find himself sailing back to Germany without his shirt.’

  Then suddenly another thought seemed to strike him. He said gently to the girl, ‘Come with me to my stall. I have a shirt and a few other things that would fit this man.

  If he is to stay in the city, he had better be dressed so that Geir and his watchdogs do not recognize him again.’ And when Gerd had helped Marcus on with the grey shirt and green woollen cloak and hood, he looked a different man. But Ula Buriash shook his head and smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It is good but not good enough. A sharp-eyed rogue like Geir would pick him out. Come, lead him to my stall. I will show you how it should be done.’

  There Marcus sat under the awning while Ula dyed his hair a chestnut colour and then wiped walnut stain on his face and limbs. And when the Armenian had finished, Gerd Stood back and laughed. ‘Why, he looks like an African,’

  she said. ‘He has just come up from the deserts, I am sure.

  Tell me, African, where are your camels then?’

  But Ula Buriash had no more time for jesting. Quick
ly he made his servants pack up the stall and put it on a hand-cart. As the merchants went down towards the river, they waved at Marcus and Gerd.

  ‘Come with us, if you wish,’ said Ochter. ‘There are better places to be in than this midden-heap, you know. I could show you cities where even the slaves wear silver and silk. You would never believe it.’

  Once more Gerd looked up at Marcus, as though she wished to go with the merchants, but his face was as set as it ever had been. So she shook her head and waved farewell to the traders.

  Then, taking Marcus by the hand, she led him from that place before the militia made their morning tour of duty. She knew every lane and alley-way in the city, and they met no one but market-porters and masons carrying their >toolbags to the new sites they were working on.

  [21]

  Governor General

  They sat in the straw beside an open window in the deserted upper storey of an old warehouse beside the river. Far down below them Marcus saw craft of all sizes pulling out along the Tamesa, some with sails that bellied in the evening breeze, others rowed by men who seemed anxious to be away. Gerd brought him a wooden platter of meat scraps and barley bread. At first he shook his head, but she grew so angry with him that he ate it up to the last crumb. And then he said, ‘It is a long time since anyone commanded me, Gerd. No doubt I shall get used to it in time.’

  She brushed the damp hair from her eyes with her dusty hand. ‘That bread and meat took some getting,’ she said smiling and showing her very white teeth. ‘I had to run half over Londinium on errands to get it. So I could not see it wasted after all that.’

  Then she lay back in the straw and began to laugh. ‘You look so different,’ she said. ‘I cannot believe a man could look so different with his hair dyed and his face blacked! Among my folk the men black their faces when they go to war - but you do it so as to stay at peace. You are a funny man, Marcus’

  Then Marcus began to laugh too, although he had enough sorrow in his heart to weigh him down for a lifetime. He said, ‘You would not think I was a funny man if you saw me on my horse, in my armour, with my tall war-helmet on and my long sword at my hip. You would not laugh if you saw me coming at you, with the soldiers behind me, glaring over their tall shields and their lances pointing at you.’

  But this made her laugh more than ever. The tears ran down her face and made little clean runnels. She said, ‘You, on a horse! Oh! Oh! Oh! And with armour, no! You are teasing me again. You are the funniest man. You are like my cousin, Brand. He pretends that he has sailed down to Egypt and back again before breakfast. He talks about the great tombs there, and the camels - as though he has really seen them. He is a funny man too. But not as funny as you are. You are funnier than anyone else in all the world, I am certain.’

  Marcus laughed again. He had not felt as happy as this for years. Not since his father used to take him out riding, perhaps. Or not since he used to play with Livia and the Africans on the sea shore at Carthago Novo. Mithras, but it was good to laugh again and be happy. He had forgotten what it was like, to do this simple thing.

  He said, ‘Tell me about Brand. Is he clever and handsome like me?’

  Gerd was chewing at a piece of straw and did not look at him now. She said slowly, ‘You are not clever, or you would not have let those fools tie you up to the stake. And as for being handsome, you are more like a hawk than a man. Look at your fierce eyes and your beaky nose! Brand has pretty green eyes, I think they are green, they change as the sea changes when he stares down at it to see if there are rocks under the keel. And his nose is nice and solid. A man from the Frisian islands hit it with an oar once when they quarrelled over a ship they had taken, and the oar made his nose very square and solid. A pleasant flat nose. I liked it so much, I promised to marry him and be his wife when he had made his fortune, robbing the Romans off Vectis.’

  Marcus said, ‘I hope you are happy, with Brand Flat-nose. I hope you have ten sons, all with flat noses.’

  Gerd threw her straw away and said, ‘I would like daughters, all tall and beautiful, with good hands for the horses and for making pastry. I do not want sons because when they went from the steading with their swords I should worry about them every minute till they got back. I have seen the men come back to my village, Marcus, and I have grown to be sick and weary of what I saw. They sing and boast and drag carts full of plunder - but they are always hurt, always coming back to be looked after and healed. And they are never the same again. These warriors are as silly as the boys who mocked you down by the stake. They kill themselves quickly or slowly; but they kill themselves. I want daughters, when I have a family of my own.’

  Marcus wanted to tell her that he was a warrior too; and that if he was only clever enough a warrior did not have to come back hurt every time out. But then he thought of the men he had been with - and they were all dead now. Even Petillius Cerialis, a leader of great warriors, he was shut up in Lindum, in sweating terror of the tribes. He thought of his father, of Tigidius. And Tigidius had gone away so quickly, without any glory, without anything - just reaching out for a piece of burned swine-flesh…. So he said nothing.

  And then, just as the sun was sinking fast, he heard a great shouting outside, down in the square, and the howling of horns and the clattering of horses’ hooves, and the thick murmuring of crowds. He went to the window-hole and said, ‘Something is happening.’

  Gerd nodded lazily. ‘It is the Governor General coming in. He has ridden from the far side of Britain to be here, with just a few horse-soldiers. They were talking about it in the market while I was running errands to get your meat and bread. The folk down there say that he is a madman to risk so much, riding through the wild country to Londinium. They say there is nothing for him here.’

  Marcus said, ‘You mean that Suetonius Paulinus has come into the city? Suetonius?’

  Gerd rose from the straw and screwed up her eyes. ‘I do not know what his name is,’ she said. ‘All Roman names sound the same to me. But I can tell you that it is the General who has come from killing priests in Mona. And now he thinks that he can rule Londinium with his army ways, but he cannot. That is what the folk in the streets say. They say that he may be a General, but he cannot tell people what they have to do, and where they have to go. The folk here are not soldiers to be ordered about by some General they have never seen, and don’t want to see either.’ Marcus said quietly, ‘But he is a great one. He is one of the greatest men living in this world, Gerd. If they only knew that, they would do what he said.’

  Gerd said, ‘How do you know that he is great? What do you know about such men?’

  Marcus said, ‘I have always known the General. He was a friend of my father’s. When I was a little boy, Suetonius took me on his white horse, in front of him, and we rode up and down the ranks of the Twentieth Legion. The men all cheered and waved their javelins. I shall never forget it. It was like riding in front of the god. And afterwards Suetonius took me into the Mess and with his own hands poured me a glass of wine and water. With his own hands, Gerd. How could I ever forget such a man?’

  But she was nibbling at strands of her hair and not listening. Then she said, ‘They are coming in now. There is an old grey-haired man on a badly-kept pony in front. Is that the great Suetonius? Is that the god?’

  Marcus hobbled to the window and gazed down. It was Suetonius, but he seemed so much smaller now. His back was bent too, and his legs looked thinner as they dangled down. Even his gear was dull and neglected. And the men who rode behind him looked like scarecrows or forest brigands.

  Gerd said, ‘I do not understand Romans. They make so much of so little.’ Then she turned away and went back to the straw.

  But Marcus shouted out, ‘Up the legions! Paulinus! Paulinus!’

  And for a short instant, the General seemed to hear his voice, and looked up from the street right into his eyes. But there was no understanding in those eyes, no friendship, no recognition. And the cavalcade passed on beneath the window, into th
e crowds of silent citizens who did not wish to be disturbed by Generals or by anyone.

  Marcus turned away from the window and saw that the girl was looking at him, smiling and smoothing her hair. She said, T did not hear him greet you, Marcus. He should have greeted one who rode before him and took wine from his cup. Why was that, do you think?’

  Marcus sank down beside her wearily. ‘It is this colour on my face,’ he said. ‘He did not know me as this colour.’

  He waited a while and then suddenly he punched one hand into the other savagely and said, ‘I wish to Mithras that I did not skulk like a coward with this black face. I would rather go with my own face and die, as long as my General greeted me.’

  But Gerd shrugged her shoulders and turned away. Then she began to sing a low mournful song about a lost child in a deep German forest, where the only light came from the glow of wolves’ eyes.

  [22]

  The Doomed City

  That evening, as twilight came down over the doomed city, Marcus was still muttering in the straw, accusing himself of betraying the General, and saying that he should have gone down to meet him and tell him of the great danger that was coming. He refused to drink a bowl of milk that Gerd had got from a goat tethered in a yard nearby. He knocked the wooden bowl from her hands and told her she had kept him from his duty, putting him up there in the deserted warehouse, causing him to live like a coward. The girl stood so much of this, then hardened her face and said, ‘Very well, Roman, if you think you are so much of a man, go to the General. Go now, you know the way down the stairs. But when he hangs you as a deserter, or the people stone you as an Icenian spy, do not look round for me. I shall not come to save you the second time.’