The Wolf of Britannia Part I

by Jess Steven Hughes

She raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

  “I have no doubt he is attempting, with the Druid’s assistance, to influence the Council into making him the next king.”

  “Then would Ibor bother shielding your father’s condition from the Council?” Rhian questioned. “It seems to me he would make it a point to aid your brother.”

  “Ibor may be behind the whole scheme. That’s what troubles me,” Caratacus answered through tightened lips.

  “Given those circumstances, I will do everything I can to see that Dana and I get on very well. I promise,” Rhian said. “You need be free of any worries in our household so you can deal with your brother and the Druids.”

  Still leaning to one side of his mount, Caratacus kissed Rhian’s perspiring cheek, the salt coming away on his lips. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. You are still my first and chief wife. I rely more on you than you realize.” He straightened his body. “Now, let’s ride on to Eburacum to be welcomed as the victors we are.”

  *

  As the army approached Eburacum, Caratacus’s mind still dwelled on the troubles he had discussed with Rhian. He forgot to mention how his father might react to the union with Dana, but he believed Cunobelinos would accept her based on Caratacus’s need for an heir. That was about the only issue that seemed to be in his favor.

  The warriors approached Eburacum in triumph. A large group of cheering people gathered outside the city gates to welcome them. King Dumnoveros stood on a dais surrounded by his councilors, Druids, Cartimandua, Dana, and retainers. They waited at the base of the road leading up to the fortress, who’s stone wall loomed behind them.

  Caratacus, Rhian, Venutios, Clud, and Tog dismounted and approached the dais and bowed slightly to the king.

  Dumnoveros raised his hand in greeting. “Prince Caratacus, Prince Venutios, and your companions, I welcome you and the victorious army to Eburacum. You have crushed our enemies in a great victory. Songs of your valor will be sung for all time.”

  A cheer rang out from the gathering crowd.

  “On behalf of our brave warriors,” Caratacus said, “and my brave companions and leaders, I thank you, Great King.”

  The king stepped down from the dais, followed by his entourage, and approached Caratacus. “You, Prince Venutios, your wife, your brother, and your friend, Clud, will be my guests at the feast given in your honor.” He turned in the direction of the rows of dozens of tables situated outside the city walls filled with food. “Follow me.”

  Dana went over to Rhian and hugged her, then turned to Caratacus and did the same. As they made their way to the table where they would dine with the king, she added her own personal welcome. “Dear Caratacus and Rhian, I’m so pleased you returned safely.”

  “So are we,” they said in unison.

  Just before being seated, Caratacus noticed Venutios approaching Cartimandua. A cold, blank expression crossed her rouged face as they embraced. Caratacus shook his head, pitying his younger friend.

  Hundreds of tables filled with food and drink awaited them on the open field. Dozens of fire pits had been dug and spread about the area. A variety of meats were roasting on spits, the savory aroma drifting on the gentle breeze. Vendors had set up tents and stalls filled with items and souvenirs of all kinds to sell the warriors flushed with booty and the spoils of war. A noisy but happy crowd feasted and drank their fill.

  After the banquet, Caratacus and his followers, including Rhian, Tog, Clud, and Venutios, who now escorted Cartimandua, along with Dumnoveros, Dana, the king’s High Council, and Druids proceeded to the Great Hall. Inside, Tog, Clud, and Venutios took their places behind Caratacus. Rhian took her place by his right side and Dana to his left as they stood before the king. Dozens of other guests gathered behind them.

  In the flickering torchlight of the sweltering hall, King Dumnoveros, now seated on his throne, formally announced, “My friends, earlier we gathered and feasted, celebrating a great victory over the Caledonians led by Prince Caratacus and our combined armies.”

  Loud murmurs of agreement erupted from the crowd filling the meeting room.

  “Now, I am pleased to announce another happy event, one much closer to home.” The king eyed Caratacus. “Prince Caratacus has asked for, and it is the wish of my daughter, Dana, to become his consort.”

  Another murmur resounded from the guests.

  “Should a child result from their union, they will formally marry. I give them my blessing and may they have many children.”

  A loud, enthusiastic applause and cheering filled the hall.

  Caratacus saw Cartimandua jolt but quickly turn stone faced. No doubt she is shocked and angry that Dana will be my consort. Too bad. She’s a fool to believe I’d want her for my woman.

  When the king had finished speaking, the group gathered around the great hearth. Caratacus, Rhian and Dana, Clud and Tog all huddled together.

  “Congratulations, Dana,” Rhian said. “I’m pleased you are part of our family.”

  Caratacus nodded his approval.

  “Thank you, Rhian,” Dana answered. “I look forward to being with you and Caratacus.” For the space of several heartbeats, she turned and gazed admiringly into Caratacus’s eyes.

  Cartimandua and Venutios broke away from another cluster of people and moved forward.

  “Congratulations to both of you,” Venutios said to Caratacus and Dana. He nodded to Rhian. “I wish you the best for the future.”

  A tight smile surfaced on Cartimandua’s lips. She embraced Dana. “Congratulations, dear Sister,” she said in an icy voice. “May you have many children. It is what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” Dana answered, pulling away from Cartimandua. “Although by your cold voice, I doubt if you really want me to have children.”

  Venutios locked eyes on Cartimandua, his nostrils flared.

  Caratacus raised a hand. “No, Venutios, don’t. I’m certain Cartimandua’s compliments are sincere, aren’t they?” he said glancing in her direction.

  A crooked smile crossed her mouth. “Of course, my Lord Prince. I look forward to the day when I learn that Dana has given birth to a healthy son—or has died.”

  Rhian gasped.

  Dana smiled at Caratacus and then turned to Cartimandua.” I’m sorry to disappoint you, dear Sister, but I plan to live.” She sniffed.

  “May the gods be so kind. That, too, is my wish,” Cartimandua said in a facetious voice.

  “Enough, woman,” Venutios warned his wife. “At least she wants children, something you loathe.”

  “Being tied down to suckling brats and changing dirty, swaddling clothes is not my idea of living,” Cartimandua answered. She glared defiantly at her husband. “I’m not the mothering type, everyone knows that. That is not my role in life.”

  “What is?” Caratacus asked. The muscles tightened in his shoulders. Cartimandua has no business treating Dana or Venutios like dirt. If the king weren’t here, I’d tell the bitch what I really think of her.

  Cartimandua smiled. “One day you and the rest of those here will learn.”

  “If you mean ruling the kingdom, that is for me to decide,” King Dumnoveros said in a voice of warning. He stepped towards Cartimandua from a group of councilors and Druids. “If I hadn’t been talking to my arch-Druid, I would have ordered you to keep a civil tongue in your head! Your ambitions are dangerous, and you insult not only our guests but your own sister.”

  Stunned, Cartimandua’s lips opened slightly. “Father, I only meant …”

  “I know exactly what you meant. This is not the place to discuss it. Dana is being united with a great man, one who saved our kingdom from destruction. We owe Prince Caratacus everything including Dana’s happiness and the chance for him to sire an heir. That will benefit both our kingdoms.”

  Cartimandua’s face turned crimson. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the king. “You mean to make Caratacus the next king of the Brigantes!” She turned on the heels of her shoes and fled the
Great Hall.

  Venutios huffed and clenched his fists. He shook his head, excused himself, and followed her.

  Caratacus turned to King Dumnoveros. “It has never been, and never will be my intent to become king of your people, Great King, you know that.”

  The king gestured as if waving away the remark. “Aye, I do. Cartimandua is an ambitious, young woman who will say and do anything to get her way.”

  At that point, Caratacus nodded to Rhian and then to King Dumnoveros. “With your permission, Great King, I need to speak to Dana in private.”

  “Permission granted,” the king answered with another wave of his hand. “After all, tomorrow before you leave, I will give the both of you my official blessing.”

  Dana furrowed her eyebrows then relaxed. “I know a place.” She turned to Rhian. “Will you please excuse us?”

  Rhian raised her eyebrows, looked to Caratacus and then Dana. “Of course, soon you will be my sister-wife.”

  Yes, she will, Rhian, get used to the idea, Caratacus thought. Learn to get along with Dana, I need her.

  “This way,” Dana said.

  It was the same dimly lit hallway where Caratacus had first observed the confrontation between Cartimandua and Dana when he had originally arrived in Eburacum.

  Before Caratacus could say a word, as they stood facing one another, Dana spoke. “I could not say it in public, Caratacus, but I prayed the gods would bring you back alive and well.”

  Caratacus grinned. “The gods were kind to me and my warriors.”

  “I’m so happy you wanted to be with me,” Dana said. “Even though I told you in front of Rhian that I am willing to be your consort, I want you to know I truly meant it.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that, because that’s the main reason I wanted to see you alone. I didn’t want you to go through with this just for the sake of pleasing me or your father.”

  “Oh no, it’s what I wish. Honestly, I ...” She hesitated and blushed. “I have loved you since I was a little girl. Even when I had heard you had married Rhian, that feeling never vanished. I do hope you don’t think me a silly woman for thinking such a thing.” Her pleading, hazel eyes looked upon his. Slowly, she raised her hand, long fingers touching his jawline.

  Caratacus reached out and took Dana’s soft hand into his. He brought the fingers to his lips and lightly kissed them. She shuddered, a low gasp escaped her lips. In that moment, his entire body relaxed, the tension in his muscles draining away. He hadn’t known what to expect. Caratacus moved her hand a few inches away from his and said, “No, you’re not a silly woman. Now that I’m with you, I’m happy you feel that way.”

  “So am I,” Dana answered. She placed her other hand on Caratacus’s shoulder.

  “I hope you and Rhian will become good friends,” Caratacus said. “I’ll see that she treats you well.”

  “I’m sure she will. I respect the fact that Rhian is still your first wife. It won’t have any affect as to how I feel about you.”

  Caratacus moved closer, and with a couple of fingers he slowly lifted her delicate chin. He slid them along her jawline and curved them across her lower lip. He pulled them away and bent his head and softly kissed her soft, smooth lips, lingering for a moment.

  She sighed as he pulled slightly away. He hugged Dana, her face brushing against his.

  “I will cherish you as much as I do Rhian.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” I pray she will believe me, I mean it.

  Dana smiled, looked toward the entry to the Great Hall, and sighed. “We better return to the rest of the group.”

  “Yes, I suppose we must. They’ll be wondering what happened to us.”

  “By tomorrow it will no longer be any of their business.” I wonder if Rhian will feel the same way.

  Chapter 26

  EARLY OCTOBER, AD 39

  Earlier that day, word was received that Caratacus’s army would arrive in Camulodunum in the evening. King Canubelinos immediately ordered preparations for a welcoming feast for the prince and his warriors.

  Still seeking answers about the succession to the throne, Porcius hoped to learn more from King Cunobelinos before Caratacus’s homecoming. Now, in the king’s private chambers as Ibor stood to his right side, Porcius voiced his concerns. “Great King, you must realize that Adminios is lazy, scheming, and too irresponsible to rule alone. He is easily manipulated. Caratacus won’t stand by idily—he’ll drive his older brother from the throne. If the reports are true that Caratacus will arrive this evening, shouldn’t the issue of succession be settled?”

  Bright-eyed and alert, the king seemed more lucid than at Porcius’s last audience with him. Cunobelinos focused on Porcius and seemed to listen intently to what the Roman was saying.

  The king glanced to Ibor before answering, “How dare you tell me what I should do, Roman? You are stretching our friendship too far.”

  Porcius cleared his throat. “I mean no disrespect, Great King, I cherish and honor your friendship above all others. It has always been my intention to act in your best interest.”

  “And that of Rome,” the old man growled.

  “Of course, but yours, too.”

  “Nevertheless, Caratacus is too anti-Roman. This is why Adminios should rule under the control of the Council. They will do as I command. As for Caratacus, he is my son, and as long as I rule, he will obey me,” Canubelinos said. “As strong as he may be, he will not go against his father.”

  Porcius’s lips tightened into a thin line. Surely he can’t believe that. “But that doesn’t answer the question about Adminios.”

  “My Druids and clan chieftains will guide his rule.”

  Porcius nodded to Ibor. It is obvious this fool king in his vulnerable state is being manipulated by Ibor. How can I convince him that his own Druids will betray him? Ibor being the first. They’ll chose Caratacus. He hates the Romans as much as they do. Still I need Adminios on the throne, not Caratacus.

  “You are aware, of course,” Porcius said, “that Caratacus’s victory over the Caledonians has strengthened his reputation as a leader and his claim to the throne? He may use that situation to unite the anti-Roman factions under him. Is that what you want?”

  The old king snorted. “Your concerns are exaggerated. My spies and Druids tell me the opposition is weak and will be easily smashed. And I repeat, Caratacus will not disobey my commands.”

  Porcius scanned the smoky, torch-lit hall and frowned. Your Druids lie. Ibor lies. I know he took my gold. The Roman kept the information to himself and shook his head. He knew the time would come when Caratacus consolidated his power among the clans, a threat to Roman influence in Britannia. As this and other thoughts rolled over in his mind, Porcius turned back the king. But if he told this to Cunobelinos, he wouldn’t believe him. But he was determined to do what he could to prevent the inevitable. He must find a way to make Adminios the next ruler of the kingdom. If not, Porcius had no doubt that Caratacus would drive Adminios out of Britannia, and in so doing, the tribes of Britannia would be at the mercy of Rome.

  The king’s eyes narrowed and a twitch of his lips could have been that of a fox. With a wave of a hand, he dismissed Porcius.

  *

  A severe storm swept in from the British Channel at midday, catching Caratacus’s army a half-day’s journey from Camulodunum. In the cloak of an early winter’s death, long rolls of thunder rumbled across black clouds shadowing the fertile Colne River Valley. A vicious rain surprised the warriors, who quickly donned seldom-used tartan cloaks. Exposed chain mail suddenly doubled in weight and many men, exhausted from trudging through the clay quagmire, threw their woven armor into the supply wagons rather than bear the burden. A pelting, icy wind needled them with sharp bits of dirt, bark, and rock.

  Caratacus braced himself against the onslaught, determined to reach the Great Fortress by nightfall. He urged, cajoled, and ruthlessly drove his shivering, soaking warriors forward. Gusting winds swept both his c
urses and praise among their ranks. His own body screamed for rest as it failed him in bursts of uncontrolled shaking and chattering teeth. He willed himself to obey his commands and demanded as much from his men. The tall prince squinted into the gray, waning light until he sighted the pale, somber silhouette of Camulodunum’s huge outer dike. Home! At last.

  A contingent of Druid acolytes on horseback met him inside the main gate. “Greetings, Prince Caratacus,” the chief acolyte said. “Arch-Druid Ibor sent us to escort you directly to the Great Hall.”

  “My warriors and I are drenched and tired. Can’t it wait?”

  “Your father commands it. A massive feast is being served in your honor, and he waits impatiently.”

  Caratacus turned to Dana and Rhian, who had halted their mounts next to his. The women’s faces and clothing, including the cloaks draping their bodies, were soaked, muddy, and smelled of horse.

  “Dana, Rhian,” Caratacus said, “you heard the acolyte. I will go with him to the hall.”

  “What about us?” Rhian asked through chattering teeth. “Dana and I are filthy, we can’t be seen like this. What would your father think of Dana?”

  “Rhian’s right, Caratacus,” Dana said. “We must look our best.”

  “I said I was going to the hall,” Caratacus answered. “You two go on home, clean up, and join me later.”

  “Thank you, dear Caratacus,” a grateful Dana said.

  Rhian added her thanks and the women departed.

  Caratacus motioned forward Tog, Clud, and his six clan chieftains, who reigned up on both sides of him. “Lead on,” he said to the chief acolyte.

  They moved through the downpour.

  Tog held his hood tighter as he rode next to his brother. “At least we’ll get out of this shitty rain and warm up.”

  “Aye, it’s cold enough to freeze a banshee’s arse,” Clud said, riding along Caratacus’s other side.

  Futilely, Tog attempted to wipe away the rain dripping down the front of his hood onto his face. “I’m looking forward to seeing my wife, but I need a hot meal, my stomach’s growling.”

  “And plenty to drink,” Clud roared. “I’m cold and wet. Maybe I can get one of them serving wench’s to warm me up later on.”