The Wolf of Britannia Part I

by Jess Steven Hughes

  “You still mean that, don’t you?”

  He nodded silently. Moments passed.

  “Very well, if you must find a woman, then I want a say in her choosing.”

  “Done.”

  Knowing the choice was his privilege alone, Rhian seemed taken aback by Caratacus’s quick reply.

  “You heard me, Rhian,” Caratacus said. “You look surprised.”

  “I didn’t believe you would be so quick to respond.”

  For a split second, Caratacus pursed his lips. “I agree, the time has come. You may choose whomever you want, but I do hope she will be comely.” Perhaps Rhian has concluded that she will never bear another child.

  *

  Rhian brought Caratacus back to the present; while they sat on their bed-pallet, she continued Dana’s tale. “You were still in conference with the king when Dana finished her story. There was a burst of laughter that broke the moment. As Dana looked toward the merrymakers, I noticed a maturity despite her youth, her eyes … yes … she had born her fate well. I thought for a moment. Dana could be the answer. You had said you would still honor me, but I wondered if you really meant it?”

  “You know I do,” Caratacus answered.

  “But I don’t want to lose you to this woman. Yet you need an heir. I thought what were your other choices? A mindless daughter of another chieftain? No, your children cannot be dim-witted or self-indulgent.”

  “No, I don’t want a son like Adminios,” Caratacus said.

  Rhian chuckled. “No, never.” She exhaled and continued. “As much as I hated the thought, Dana must be the one. She might be content with the role of second wife and bearer of your children … the thought that brought forth the realization I would remain barren all my life. Then I watched the younger woman’s profile, so cheerful now and careless, and it blurred through my own tears.”

  Caratacus brought Rhian close to his chest again and she continued her story.

  “Dana touched my hand,” Rhian said, “and asked what was wrong. Had she said something to offend me? She hadn’t, but I had to wipe away the tears and compose myself. I looked about and then softly asked Dana if the thought had ever crossed her mind about sharing another woman’s husband?

  “For a moment, Dana dropped her hand and studied me. Then she asked if I meant you? I said yes.

  “Then she sighed,” Rhian said. “Dana hesitated before saying that if I did truly mean what I said before about feeling almost like a sister, then she believed … she knew … she could share you with me as a husband. Dana smiled and reached out to me, and we touched hands. I thanked her.”

  “I believe you have made a wise choice, Rhian,” Caratacus said. “I have liked my cousin since we were children. I’m sure this will work. But remember,” he looked into her eyes, “I still love you. You are my first love and wife—always.”

  “I’m so glad you feel that way about me. I prayed you would.”

  “But there is still another question,” Caratacus said. “When did you ask Dana about Cartimandua?”

  “I was just getting to that,” Rhian said. “I changed the subject and asked her about Cartimandua.” Rhian shook her head. “For some reason I don’t understand, she refused to say anything negative about her sister. It’s strange she wouldn’t talk about it, especially after what you heard between them. At that point, I asked Dana if her willingness to marry you had anything to do with getting away from Cartimandua? She denied it and said she wanted to become your wife.”

  “Then we must meet with Dana tomorrow before we leave on campaign. I need to learn firsthand how sincere she is about marrying me and see if I can persuade her to change her mind in telling us about Cartimandua.”

  Although Caratacus hardly knew Dana, what he had seen tonight at dinner and overheard during the confrontation between her and Cartimandua led him to believe that Dana would make a good second wife.

  Chapter 23

  At dawn the next morning, Caratacus and Rhian, followed by a small entourage including Clud and Tog, arrived outside the king’s home by horse. Nearly half the size of the Great Hall, the wattle-and-daub building, whitewashed with lime, stood encircled by a small moat filled with muddy water and a tall, wooden palisade. Guarded by two sentries, the house was about one hundred yards from the Great Hall. A thin, blue line of smoke and the perfumed smell of pine seeped through a hole in the center of the thatched roof and disappeared in the shimmering gold and crimson glow of morning sunlight. Sounds of barking dogs, whinnying horses, and baying cattle drifted from homes and the animal pens outside the fortress.

  Although still early, Caratacus and Rhian wore only short-sleeved tunics and striped breeches with daggers and swords strapped to their sides.

  “Wait for us here, we won’t be long,” Caratacus told his retinue after they had halted. He and Rhian dismounted, crossed the short bridge over the narrow stream, and approached the sentries. “Princess Dana is expecting us,” he told them.

  “Stay here,” the taller of the two guards said. He headed for the house.

  A moment later, the king’s man returned and waved Caratacus and Rhian through the oaken gate.

  Accompanied by a female servant, Dana met them in front of the home’s covered porch. A vivid, short-sleeved, cobalt tunic fringed in gold, which the Brigantians called a leynah, and held together at the shoulder by a bronze pin encrusted with sapphires covered her willowy frame. Around her long, delicate neck clung a beaded, amber necklace that plunged below the gown’s neckline. Silver-hooped earrings, glistening in the early-morning sunlight, hung from thin ear lobes. Gold armlets, the shape of serpents, clasped above the elbows circled her slender arms.

  Dana smiled. “It is so good to see the both of you again, especially you, Caratacus.” She nodded to him. “I regret that we had so little time to speak to one another last night.”

  “Aye, that was unfortunate, but your father had important matters to discuss that wouldn’t wait.” Caratacus grinned. “Regardless, I’m here now.”

  “I would invite you inside,” Dana explained, “but father is still asleep. He drank too much last night—again.”

  Caratacus chuckled.

  “We can talk out here.” She turned to her servant. “Leave us.” The woman disappeared into the house.

  “Did Rhian explain my situation?” Dana asked once the attendant was gone.

  Caratacus turned to Rhian, who raised an eyebrow.

  “Rhian says you are willing to become my second wife,” Caratacus said. “I am honored, but is it truly what you want? We have not seen one another in years.”

  Dana moved closer to Caratacus and touched his calloused hand. “I meant it when I told Rhian that it was my desire to become your wife.” Dana paused and glanced to Rhian, who nodded, and back to Caratacus. “Rhian is a charming woman, and I was so pleased that she would ask me.”

  “I wouldn’t have told him if I didn’t believe you were worthy, Dana,” Rhian said in a soft but firm voice. “But remember, I still will be his first and chief wife.”

  “Yes, I know,” Dana answered. She turned from Caratacus, stepped to Rhian, grabbed her hand, and peered into her emerald eyes. “You gave him something that I can never give.”

  “But you can give me children,” Caratacus said.

  “If the gods bless me, yes, I will,” Dana said. She removed her hands from that of Rhian and faced Caratacus.

  He looked about and then asked Dana in a voice bordering on suspicion. “What about Cartimandua? I overheard the conversation between the two of you last night outside the Great Hall.”

  Dana jolted, her eyes widened. “Did you hear everything?”

  “I heard enough,” Caratacus replied. “I know she threatened to kill you. Could that be the real reason why you are willing to marry me?” he said in a stronger tone. “To get away from her?”

  Dana shook her head, earrings swinging from the lobes. “No, not at all. When you and Rhian first arrived at the Great Hall, my heart nearly jumped
to my throat. Then I remembered years ago asking myself why hadn’t my father arranged with your father for our betrothal before you married Rhian?” Dana stopped, visibly swallowed and for an instant, tightened her lips. “I knew … I knew then I wanted to be your wife, but it wasn’t to be so. And then … when I saw Rhian by your side, I understood. She … she is the most beautiful of women.”

  Rhian’s face reddened. “You … yourself, are a most elegant and lovely woman in your own right, Dana.”

  Dana paled and for a few seconds bowed her head.

  I had no idea Dana thought of me this way, but would it have really mattered? Just as Rhian said, Dana is a “lovely” woman, I have to be sure. “So your decision had nothing to do with Cartimandua’s threat?” Caratacus asked.

  “Nothing whatsoever,” Dana answered. She brought her hand to her chest. “If I had not been chosen by Rhian, and believe me I had no idea that I would, I had already planned to leave the kingdom. This is not the first time she has threatened my life. It was after seeing you and Rhian that the idea of leaving came to me. And when Cartimandua threatened me again last night, I decided that enough was enough. My idea was to take ship to Camulodunum and ask political asylum from your father.”

  “Then we would have met again in any event,” Caratacus said.

  “If that had been the case, yes. Once I had arrived, it was my hope the king would be sympathetic to my plight. I cannot believe your father would have sent me back here to Eburacum to be murdered by Cartimandua.”

  I believe her. She will make a fine wife. I need children, and if Dana is willing, then so am I. Caratacus turned to Rhian, who smiled and touched his elbow.

  “Rhian, do you truly want Dana to become my consort and second wife,” Caratacus asked.

  A brief smiled crossed Rhian’s bowed lips. “It is my wish, honestly.”

  I find no deception in her eyes, Caratacus thought. Surely she meant what she said. He faced Dana. “All right, I will take you for my second wife—it will be my pleasure to have you as part of my household. I know you and Rhian will get on very well, and I will honor both of you.”

  “Thank you, dear Caratacus,” Dana said. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Dana turned, stepped to Rhian, and did the same. “I know I will be happy to be your sister-wife.”

  “I feel the same about you, Dana,” Rhian said as she and Dana braced one another by the forearms.

  “Now, we must see your father, the king,” Caratacus said, “to receive his permission and blessing.”

  Dana touched his arm again. “Before we see him, please do me a favor?”

  Rhian gave Dana a questioning look.

  “What is it?” Caratacus asked.

  “Don’t tell him of Cartimandua’s threat against my life.”

  “Why not?” Caratacus asked.

  “Despite the way my sister acted last night when you and Rhian were presented to father, she is still his favorite, not me. You may have heard Cartimandua accuse me of that last night, but it is not true.”

  For an instant, Caratacus looked beyond Dana’s shoulder and focused on the house’s entrance. “Don’t you think your father would believe me?”

  “He never believes Cartimandua can do any wrong,” Dana said. “Father thinks she is just a strong-willed girl.”

  “He’s a fool,” Caratacus said. He came to a decision. “All right, I’ll say nothing for the time being, but if there is the slightest hint that Cartimandua is scheming against you, I want you to immediately send me word by a courier you trust. Anyone harming you will see the point of my dagger.”

  Dana bowed her head. “As you wish.”

  “Let’s go inside and wake your father,” Caratacus said. “It’s time he got up.”

  They entered the house, dimly illuminated by the light from the fire pit. Wisps of smoke curled upward and seeped through the straw-roofed ceiling. A female slave stood over a small cauldron stirring porridge. The aroma of baked bread wafted from the earthen oven at one end of the room. The woman glanced at Caratacus, Dana, and Rhian before returning to her duties.

  Loud snoring drifted from an area cordoned off by tall, goatskin hides. Dana motioned for Caratacus and Rhian to wait by the pit. She dismissed the servant.

  Dana stepped within the cubicle. “Da, wake up, wake up,” her voice carried outside.

  A loud groan erupted from Dumnoveros. “Not yet, the gods are stomping me head.”

  Caratacus and Rhian looked at one another and smiled.

  “Get up, Da, we have guests,” Dana said.

  “Send them away, leave me alone.”

  “No, I won’t, Da, Caratacus and Rhian are here. Get up!”

  “Ooh, the gods hate me!” He exhaled loudly. “They’ve clubbed me with a thousand hammers.”

  “What did you expect? You were drunk again.”

  Dumnoveros moaned. “Alright, alright, I’ll get up.”

  Caratacus and Rhian snickered.

  “Serves the old sod right,” Rhian whispered.

  Regardless of the king’s condition, Caratacus was concerned about what his reaction would be when he asked permission to allow Dana to become his consort. He remembered that Dana had told Rhian that as a widow she had the right to choose whomever she wanted as consort or husband. However, she would allow her father to pick her next man. Caratacus wondered if he should have waited for a time when Dumnoveros was in better spirits.

  Dana rejoined Caratacus and Rhian who remained standing together.

  Caratacus shifted his weight from one foot to another. He noticed Rhian did the same. The muscles in her face tightened as if trying to hide the growing tension in her body.

  A rustle came from within the cubicle as if someone was putting on clothes.

  Dumnoveros staggered through the cubicle flap, his face flushed, eyes bloodshot, and his breath reeked of beer and wine. Dressed in a pair of faded breeches and a wrinkled tunic, he approached the three waiting for him. Before the flap closed, Caratacus saw in the shadowy light a young woman, probably one of his concubines, still lying within the bed furs, her face partially covered by hair strands.

  The king plopped on a stool by the hearth. He coughed and winced as he placed both hands to the sides of his face. “Gods, my head!”

  Caratacus knew the feeling. “Sorry about your pain, Great King.”

  “Do you, now?” Dumnoveros exhaled. “I suppose you do. It’s a man’s right to get drunk.”

  Dana sniffed. “Perhaps, but the gods make you pay for the right, Da.”

  He grunted and scraped his feet on the hard-packed, dirt floor.

  Dana went to one end of the house and returned with an earthen bowl filled with a dark liquid. She handed it to her father. “Drink this, Da.”

  “What is it?” he asked, grabbing the bowl.

  “You should know by now, it’s for your hangover, willow bark in cold water.”

  “Ugh, that miserable swill?”

  She pointed a finger at her father. “Drink it, Da, it’s the only remedy that cures your aching head.”

  Dumnoveros raised the bowl to his mouth and noisily downed the contents, loudly slopping liquid out both sides of his mouth into his matted beard. He handed the container back to Dana, coughed, and spat. “Terrible stuff, like drinking mud.”

  Despite the king’s description, Caratacus thought the mixture might be worth trying the next time he had drunk too much. His eyes glanced to Rhian and noticed, even through her long tunic, the tightened muscles in her arms and shoulders. She slowly clenched and unclenched her hands.

  Dumnoveros didn’t offer them seats, even though there were stools nearby. “I’ve taken my daughter’s putrid tonic, and my head is clearing—barely. What brings you to my home at this early hour?”

  Puzzled by the king’s lack of courtesy, Caratacus knew this could be a bad sign. Would Dumnoveros refuse his request for Dana’s hand? He took a step forward. Yet, he didn’t feel any pangs of nervousness in what he was about to tell the
king. “I’m here to ask your permission for Dana to become my consort and one day to be my wife.”

  The king rubbed his forehead and shook it as if to clear his mind. He faced his daughter. “Is this true, Dana?”

  Dana bent over and touched her father’s calloused hand and then straightened up. “It is, Da.”

  He snorted and stared at Caratacus through bloodshot eyes and towards Rhian. “You have a wife, does she approve?”

  For a moment, Rhian’s bowed lips tightened into a thin line. She sighed and nodded. In a low, raspy voice she answered, “I do, High King. Caratacus needs an heir, I cannot give him one, and I believe Dana can. When she does, my husband will have the right to take her as his second wife.”

  Dumnoveros winced. “Ooh!” He rubbed the side of his head again. Slowly, a smile emerged showing brown, jagged teeth framed by his graying whiskers. He turned to Dana. “You know Rhian will remain Caratacus’s chief wife. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Dana nodded, touching his hands a second time. “Yes, Da, need I repeat myself?”

  “No, you don’t,” the king answered. “Very well, as a widow you have the right to choose any man you want for a husband.”

  The king turned to Caratacus. “With pleasure, I give my permission and blessing to take my daughter as your wife.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it mattered little to him.

  “I thank you, Great King.” Caratacus turned to the smiling women.

  Dumnoveros stood and approached Caratacus. Rhian stood back a step next to Dana. The two men shook hands. Dumnoveros turned and kissed Dana on the cheek. “He’s a good man.”

  Afterwards, the two women hugged one another.

  The king addressed Caratacus, “The ceremony will be performed once you and the armies have returned from the campaign against our enemies, the Caledonians. Bring us victory.”

  Later that morning, Caratacus, Rhian, and their army, along with the forces of Venutios, departed Eburacum and marched northward in pursuit of the Caledonians.

  *

  Stifling heat hung over the land like a low-drifting fog the day Caratacus and the allied army departed Eburacum. Nearly six thousand warriors strong on foot and horseback journeyed north through the fertile valley of Brigantia, a green land crisscrossed with rushing streams and creeks and filled with a smell of iron-red, rich earth, plowed into meandering furrows.