Carausius looked across the room, where Teleri was standing with her father beneath a garland of wheat ears and dried flowers. He found it hard to imagine her as an awkward adolescent. Perfumed and jeweled and veiled in crimson silk imported from the eastern lands of the Empire, she was even more lovely than she had been at the fortress. But though she was robed like a king’s daughter, her ornaments only accented her beauty, which owed more to the poise with which she wore them.
As if aware of his attention, she turned, and for a moment he glimpsed the pure lines of her face through the roseate haze of her veil, like the statue of a goddess at a festival. He looked quickly away. He was a man of normal appetites, and as he rose in rank women had come easily. But he had never, even when he went to courtesans in Rome, bedded a woman of a royal line, or one who was so beautiful. To worship her would be easy, he thought. He was not so sure how he would do as a husband.
“Nervous?” Aelius, who had left the Hercules being refitted in Clausentum and come to support him, squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t blame you! But they say all bridegrooms feel that way! Don’t worry—one woman’s much like another when the torches are put out. Remember how you’d take a boat through the delta of the Rhenus and you’ll be all right. Go slow and keep taking soundings!” He burst into laughter as Carausius glared.
He was relieved when a touch on his arm gave him the excuse to turn away. He met the dark, ardent gaze of the slight young man who stood before him, but for a moment could not remember his name.
“Sir, I have spent much…time in thought since last summer,” said the boy. “It is a great thing you are doing for Britannia.” There was a hint of a stammer, as if speech could not quite keep up with the emotions that drove it.
Allectus, that was it. The boy had come down to the ground-breaking for the fortress of Portus Adurni with his father, and escorted the priestesses home. Carausius nodded as he went on.
“My health was poor when I was younger, so I have not served in the Army. But to achieve your purposes will take money. More, I think, than the Emperor will give you. I know money, sir. If you will take me onto your staff, I will serve you with all my heart!”
Carausius frowned, looking at the young man with a commander’s eye. Allectus would never make much of a warrior, but he seemed healthy, and if all the stories were true, he was not boasting. Certainly he spoke truly; the Admiral had begun to realize that the protection the citizens of Britannia expected of him might extend beyond the brief given him by Maximian. But protection was all he would give them, he told himself as the stories of various Army officers who had declared themselves Emperor came to mind.
“What does your father say?”
Light leaped in Allectus’ eyes. “He is willing. I think it would make him proud.”
“Very well. You may join my staff—unofficially—and work with us this winter. If you prove your worth, we will see about making it permanent when the campaigning begins in the spring.”
“Sir!” Allectus sketched a quasi-military salute with an enthusiasm that made him seem suddenly much younger. There was an awkward moment as Allectus struggled with his emotions.
Carausius took pity on him. “And my first order is to go find out for me when the rites are going to begin!”
Allectus straightened and strode away with what was obviously intended to be a military swagger. Carausius wondered if he had been right to take him on. The young Briton was a curious mixture of callow youth and maturity, unsure and clumsy in society, but from all accounts a clever and aggressive businessman. But the Army could find a use for men of many talents. If Allectus proved able to meet the physical demands of service and tolerate military discipline, he might be very useful indeed.
For a moment the Admiral stood frowning, his thoughts on his command. They had planned the wedding for the end of the sailing season, but the weather had held fair longer than expected. It was convenient for those who had traveled to the wedding, but some bold Saxon might seize the opportunity for one last raid before the storms began. And if the Saxons did come, he would be here instead of waging at one of the Channel fortresses, and by the time he found out about a raid, the sea wolves would be long gone….
It was some sense more subtle than hearing that recalled him to the present. When he looked up, Dierna was standing before him.
He took a deep breath and gestured at the crowd in the room. “You have wrought well, and all of us do your bidding. Are you pleased?”
“Are you?” She met his gaze levelly.
“I count no battle won until the day is over.”
Dierna raised one eyebrow. “Are you afraid?”
“Since I met you I have heard strange tales of Avalon. They say that Rome conquered the Druids but not their priestesses; that you are sorceresses, like those who dwelt on the Isle of Sena in Armorica, the heirs to ancient powers.” He had faced down men who wanted to kill him, but it took all of his will to hold this woman’s gaze.
“We are only mortal women,” the priestess said gently, “though our training is arduous, and perhaps it is true that we guard certain Mysteries that the Romans have lost.”
“I am a citizen, but not a Roman.” He tugged the loose end of the toga back into place once more. “When I was a boy, wisewomen of the Menapii still dwelt in the fens of Germania, where the Rhenus flows into the northern sea. They had their own kind of wisdom, but in you I sense something more disciplined that reminds me of some priests I met in Egypt when I was there.”
“Perhaps…” She looked at him with interest. “It is said that those who fled the Drowned Lands found harbor in many ports, and that the Mysteries of Egypt are akin to our own. Do you remember?”
Carausius blinked, unsettled by something particular in her tone. She had asked him something similar at Portus Adurni.
“Remember?” he asked, and she shook her head and smiled.
“It does not matter. And in any case, today you should be thinking about your bride….”
Both of them turned to gaze at Teleri. “She is very beautiful. But I hardly expected to be marrying her in such a conventional Roman ceremony.”
“Her father wished to make certain the union would be recognized,” answered Dierna. “Some years ago one of our women was given to a Roman officer, Constantius, according to our own rites, and we have heard that she is now considered his concubine.”
“And what are the rites of Avalon?” His voice was as quiet as hers.
“Man and woman come together as priest and priestess of the Lord and the Lady. He bears the power of the Horned One who brings life to field and herd, and she receives him as the Great Goddess, the Mother, and the Bride.”
There was something in the timbre of her voice that stirred him. For the space of a breath he felt as if he were about to recall something long forgotten but vitally important. Then he heard the bleating of the sacrificial sheep outside, and the moment was gone.
“I would not have refused such a ritual,” he said softly. “But now it is time to attend to the rites of Rome. Give us your blessing, Lady of Avalon, and we will do the best we may.”
The haruspex stood in the doorway, motioning them to come. Carausius straightened, feeling along his forearms the familiar prickle of excitement that came when the waiting was over and battle began. This was not so different, he told himself as he moved forward and the wedding guests fell into place behind him. This was a celebration, but now he was sailing strange seas.
Outside the bedchamber, the party was still going on. The Prince, happy that instead of losing his daughter to Avalon he had married her off to a man of note, had purchased a large quantity of Gallic wine, and the wedding guests were taking full advantage of his bounty. Carausius looked at his bride and wished he had been able to do the same. But a good commander did not drink on duty.
And this was a duty. The woman who awaited him in the big bed was beautiful. He supposed she must be good-tempered as well, and, since she had been trained in Avalon, wise
. But she was a stranger.
It had not occurred to him that this might be a problem. Certainly he had bedded courtesans and camp women without any need for introductions. But he realized now that from his marriage he wanted more. Teleri lay with the sheet pulled up to her chin, watchful as a threatened doe. Carausius smiled in an attempt to reassure her and pulled off his tunic. She was his wife by Roman law, but the custom of the British, like that of his own people, was that the wedding was not complete until the marriage feast was ended and the bride deflowered.
“Would you like me to blow out the lamp?” he asked.
Mutely, she nodded. Carausius felt a moment’s regret—what was the point of marrying a beautiful woman if you could not look at her body? Still, too much beauty might unman him, whereas one woman felt much like another in the dark. He pulled back the covers and heard the bed groan as he lay down beside her, but Teleri was still silent. With a sigh he reached out to touch her hair. Her skin was very smooth. Without need for thought, his fingers slid from her cheek to her neck, and from there to the firm round of her breast. She took a quick breath and then stilled, trembling beneath his hand.
Should he woo her with love talk? Her silence unnerved him, and he could think of no words. But if his mind was unready, his body, reacting to the firm flesh his fingers were exploring, was responding eagerly. Carausius tried to slow down, to wait until she was ready as well, but Teleri lay still, passively accepting, as he parted her thighs. And then he could hold back no longer. With a groan he sank down upon her body, gripping her shoulders. She whimpered suddenly and began to struggle beneath him, but he was already claiming his prize.
It was over quickly. Afterward Teleri curled on her side with her back to him. Carausius lay for a long time, listening to her breathing, trying to hear if she wept. But she made no sound. Gradually he began to relax. He told himself it had not been too bad a beginning, and would get better as they became more accustomed. Love might be too much to hope for, but as he and Teleri lived together, surely respect and affection would grow, and that was as much as most couples ever knew.
Carausius was not accustomed to sharing a bed, and sleep was long in coming. He lay still, going over troop dispositions and supplies in his head and wishing he could light a lamp and work on them. But he could not tell if his wife was sleeping, and if she was, he feared to wake her. After a time he passed into an uneasy dream in which he stood on a heaving deck, battling against faceless foes.
When he heard the knocking, he thought at first that it was the sound of a ram, battering the side of his ship. There were voices; slowly he took in their words.
“Lady, it is the third hour. Nothing can be done until dawn—in Juno’s name, it is the Admiral’s wedding night! You cannot disturb him now!”
“If he is angry, I will take the blame,” answered a woman’s voice. “Will you bear the responsibility for denying him news he needs?”
“News?” asked the guard. “No messenger has come….”
“I need no human messenger.” The woman’s voice changed, and Carausius, already out of bed and pulling on his robe, felt a chill that owed nothing to the night air. “Do you doubt my word?”
The poor guard, caught between his orders and the priestess’s power, was saved from having to answer as Carausius opened the door.
“What’s wrong?”
Something that had been tensed in Dierna’s face relaxed, and she smiled. She had wrapped a mantle over her night robe, and her hair, unbound, fell around her shoulders like flame. Then her expression grew grim once more.
“The Saxons have come again.”
“How can you know—” he began, but she only laughed.
“You have kept your part of our bargain. Did you think I would not keep mine? I knew how you feared to leave the coast unguarded, and this night I looked into the Seeing bowl. I told you—this is what I have spent the autumn teaching Teleri to do.”
He took a deep breath, coming to full wakefulness as he took in the implications of her words. “And what did you see?”
“A town in flames—I think it is Clausentum—and two keels drawn up on the shore. They will take their time in looting, thinking no help can come. If you are swift, you can catch the dawn tide and be waiting for them beyond the Isle of Vectis when they head home once more.”
Carausius nodded. The guard was standing open-mouthed, but he snapped to attention as the Admiral began to rap out orders. Carausius suppressed a smile; then all other considerations disappeared in the tide of anticipation that swept through him at the prospect of battle. This was something he knew how to do.
They spent that winter in Dubris, the Roman fort on the southeastern coast, in the tribal lands of Cantium. Teleri had expected to hate it, for it was not Avalon. But if the villa above the chalk cliffs where Carausius had settled her was a cage, at least it was comfortable, and the big, fair-haired Cantiaci tribesmen, though different from her own more lively west-country folk, were kindly, and made her welcome. Her husband was often away, supervising the construction of the new fortress at Portus Adurni, or the additional improvements being made at Dubris.
Some of the spoils recaptured from the pirates Carausius had defeated the day after the wedding had been returned to their owners. He had sent to Rome for permission to sell items whose owners could not be determined and divert the proceeds to the protection of the Saxon Shore.
Even when Carausius was home he spent most of his time with his officers, poring over maps and arguing strategies. At first Teleri was relieved to see so little of him. She had feared that a man’s touch would bring back memories of the reiver’s attempt to rape her, but the disciplines of Avalon had stood her in good stead.
When Carausius lay with her, she had only to detach her mind from her body and she felt nothing—neither pain nor fear. She had not realized that her husband would notice, but after a time she began to suspect that he was deliberately avoiding her.
At Midwinter, the Romans celebrated Saturnalia. The Admiral granted his men their holiday and returned to the villa for some much needed rest. On the eve of the solstice they feasted. It was a time to make merry and the men drank deeply. Even Teleri allowed herself more of the sweet Gallic wine than she was used to. At Avalon, they would be celebrating this night with holy rituals, to midwife the newborn sun back into the world. She had seen them only once, and still she found herself weeping when she remembered their beauty.
And so she drank, and was surprised, when at last they rose from the table, to find her legs wobbling beneath her.
“I can’t walk!” she exclaimed indignantly. The men began to laugh, and abruptly she found it funny too. But the laughter was too much for her precarious balance. Carausius caught her as she swayed and lifted her in his arms, his face perplexed as if he were wondering how she had gotten there.
“I’m your wife”—she nodded solemnly—“’s all right for you to carry me….”
The world spun dizzily as he bore her along the passageway, and she clung tightly, not releasing him even when he laid her on the bed.
“Shall I send your maid to undress you?” he asked, trying to detach her fingers.
“You undress me,” Teleri mumbled, “husband….” She looked into his face and smiled. It was not lust, but loneliness that she was feeling, she knew. But if he was with her she would not think about Avalon.
“You’ve had a bit too much wine, you know,” he said, but the muscles of his arms were no longer rock-hard beneath her fingers.
She giggled suddenly. “So have you!”
“That’s true,” he replied in the tone of a one who has made an unexpected discovery.
She tugged at his tunic and Carausius thumped down onto the bed beside her, and then, rather clumsily, kissed her. There was a comfort, she thought as he pulled at her clothing, in being close to another person. This time, she had intended to welcome him, but as matters progressed she found herself growing more detached from what was happening. When at last he l
ay atop her, she took refuge in random images, and found among them, unexpectedly, the face of Allectus.
In the morning, Teleri awoke with an aching head and a confusion of memories. She was alone in the bed, but Carausius’ mantle lay where it had fallen on the floor. Lying with him had not been a dream. At least, she thought as she allowed her maid to dress her, she no longer feared him. But when they met for breakfast, he seemed uncertain how to respond to her, and a little ashamed. Or perhaps it was only that his head was aching as well.
But if it made their relationship no worse, neither had that night’s encounter brought them any closer together.
As the dark days drew on, Carausius brought his senior officers to stay at the villa more frequently. Teleri found herself often in the company of Allectus, providing a sympathetic ear when the demands of military life pushed him to the edge of his endurance.
“The way in which we are funded is so inefficient!” he exclaimed as they walked along the cliffs. “The taxes are raised in Britannia, sent all the way to Rome; then, if the Emperor sees fit, a portion trickles back again. No trader could prosper that way! Would it not make more sense to calculate how much will be allotted for the defense of Britannia and keep back that amount from the taxes that are sent on?”
Teleri nodded. Certainly it made sense when he explained it. Accustomed to the civilian government, which was largely financed by contributions from the magnates who served as local magistrates, she had never thought about the problems of defending the entire province before.
“Could we not call for donations from the people here whom Carausius’ forts are protecting?”
“We will have to, unless Maximian sends more.” Allectus turned, hands on his hips, to stare out to sea. It seemed to Teleri that military life had improved him. The intense gaze was unchanged, but hours spent in training had bronzed his skin. He stood straighter too, and had more muscle on his thin frame.
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