After the usual salutations, the king motioned to Porcius to sit in a chair by his left side.
Tall and broad-chested, the ruler wore a brat, an open, woolen cloak edged with a fringe of gold, and clothed in a similar tunic and blue and white striped breeches like those worn by Porcius. A thick, gold torc circled Verica’s muscular neck, silver armlets surrounded his powerful arms, and a bejeweled sword hung from a baldric on his left side. His face was scarred from countless battles, a long, drooping moustache covered his thin mouth, and his breath smelled of stale beer. Black, greasy hair, now receding half way across the top of his head, draped his shoulders.
Ignoring the corma on the table by his side, Porcius got down to business. He turned and leaned toward Verica. “Great King, if you haven’t heard already, King Canubelinos has chosen Adminios over Caratacus to rule the Cantiaci. Do you know what that means?”
Verica gave his Druid advisor a sidelong glance as if both knew something. The priest bowed his head.
“Aye, he will rule once Cunobelinos is dead,” Verica said in a deep voice. The king grabbed his drinking bowl and swilled beer. He pulled off his cloak, which landed on the hard-packed, dirt floor, and wiped his mouth on his tunic sleeve.” The big Celt faced Porcius. “I know I can persuade that fool Adminios to ally with me. And when the time is right, I will kill him and take his kingdoms for myself.”
Porcius’s chest tightened as did the muscles in his shoulders. I was afraid it would come to this. I should never have wasted my time traveling here. The Council and I should manipulate Adminios, not this dog. “Caratacus will resist,” the Roman warned. “He will go to war. The prince knows Adminios can be manipulated by the Druids and you.”
A sneer crossed Verica’s mouth. “And by you.”
“Yes, I can, but in this matter I played no part; it was the decision of King Cunobelinos and his Druids.” Porcius glanced toward Verica’s priest.
“No matter, Roman.” Verica gestured with an uplifted hand before dropping it to his side. “Bring Caratacus on—he will lose. I welcome the chance to kill the bastard and revenge my son’s death.”
“Why did you order Gwynedd to kidnap me at Bagshot Heath?” Although Porcius had asked him on an earlier occasion, he brought up the same question again, knowing Verica would probably lie.
Verica furrowed his eyebrows together into a thick, black line. “I told you before,” his voice nearly a growl, “I did not give him the order. One of his surviving friends told me Gwynedd got the stupid notion that it would please me. He hated Rome as much as Caratacus.”
Porcius pressed his lips together. Liar! “Except, Caratacus knew that killing me might have been the excuse Rome needed to invade your lands and those of his father, something neither of them wanted.”
The king jabbed a hand in Porcius’s direction. “Gwynedd knew that—I told him. Had he survived and brought you to me, I would have released you and punished him.”
I seriously doubt that.
“It doesn’t matter,” Verica said, interrupting Porcius’s thoughts, “my son paid for his stupidity. Caratacus killed him, and that is all that matters to me. I want him to fight me like a man.” For a split second, he raised the hand pointing toward the Roman and turned it into a balled fist. Then he dropped it to his thigh.
By the gods, he’s mad. Porcius reached down to the table along his side, picked up the bowl, and sipped the bitter-tasting corma. He winced before he set the cup down. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Caratacus has built a solid reputation for himself among many tribes as a fearless warrior and leader. He believes many tribal leaders will come to his aid should he put out the call to arms.”
“You’re exaggerating—he isn’t that strong.”
Porcius vigorously nodded his head as if he were a nervous horse. “Oh, but he is, especially after his victory over the Caledonians. And while he was in Eburacum, Caratacus took King Dumnoveros’s daughter, Dana, as consort with marriage in the future.”
“Hmm, I wasn’t aware of that.” Verica gulped down the remaining contents from his bowl and belched loudly.
“No doubt King Dumnoveros would send aid if Caratacus requested it,” Porcius said. “If rumors are true, so would the Iceni.”
Verica eyed his Druid once more. The priest nodded.
The king crinkled his flat, broken nose. “The Iceni can be easily bought—they won’t lift a spear to aid him.” He paused and for a few seconds closed his eyes before reopening them. “In the meantime, I will meet with Adminios and his Druids.”
Porcius’s chest tightened as if his heart had leaped into his throat. Outwardly, he managed to keep a straight face. “Is that wise? I think you are moving too quickly.”
Verica’s watery eyes studied Porcius as if he were staring through a rock. “You said Caratacus took this woman as his consort. He expects to grab the kingdom of the Brigantes as well as the tribes here in the south. My lands would be surrounded. He means to destroy me and rule all of Britannia. By Teutates, I’ll crush him first. When I control Adminios, Caratacus will be left vulnerable. His reputation with the other kings will mean nothing. I will command the southern kingdoms.”
“Making it easier to assassinate him,” Porcius said.
Verica gestured toward his chest. “Me, assassinate him, Roman?” He shook his head. “It’s manlier to kill him in battle. But,” he hesitated, “Caratacus has his share of enemies. Given the chance, they would oblige me in taking his head.”
“Naturally,” Porcius agreed. “A little gold, I’m sure would be incentive enough.”
A black-toothed grin crossed Verica’s thin, scarred mouth. A deep, guttural laugh escaped his throat. “This will be far easier then when I reconquered the Atrebates, which rightfully belonged to me.”
“So I heard,” Porcius said. He had received news that Caratacus’s uncle, Epaticcos, had committed suicide after being caught with a female Druid novice in the Sacred Grove. Within weeks of the death, Verica sent an army against the leaderless Atrebates in a surprise attack and overwhelmed them.
Donn, father of Rhian and Epaticcos’s former champion, had been forced to flee, along with Havgan the Druid, to Canubelinos’s court where both were given asylum.
Damn that stupid barbarian! If Verica moves now, Rome’s interests in Britannia will be totally disrupted. It might be enough for that mad Emperor Caligula to launch an invasion. Britannia can’t afford that and neither can I. If the Roman Army lands on British soil, I would be arrested and sent to Rome for execution by the emperor.
Beneath the table, Porcius balled a hand into a fist.
Chapter 28
LATE FEBRUARY, AD 39
Side by side, on a damp, chilly afternoon, Caratacus and Tog rode their horses back to their homes after meeting with their father and the tribal council. Both shivered despite wearing heavy, woolen cloaks hooked tightly about their shoulders, which draped down to their thighs. Caratacus rubbed his hands together as he held his reins. The breath escaping from his mouth evaporated into a patch of steam in the frosty air. While they passed through drifting patches of fog, Caratacus glanced about the bleak landscape of skeletal oak and walnut trees barren of all leaves on both sides of the muddy trackway. Drab fields, gray and fallow under patches of snow, laid waiting for spring plowing. Caratacus attempted to distract himself from the foul weather by reflecting on the events that had occurred since his return from Eburacum.
Despite the humiliation he’d suffered five months earlier when Cunobelinos proclaimed Adminios future ruler of the Cantiacian kingdom in all but name, Caratacus still served his father, but for how long? The old king still showed flashes of awareness, even brilliance, but it became more difficult for Caratacus and Ibor—whom he didn’t trust, to shield Cunobelinos’s infirmities from the council. Caratacus suspected the chieftains had already guessed his father was losing his mind.
Caratacus recalled that at today’s meeting when he and Tog entered the torch-lit Great Hall. They saw C
unobelinos on his Roman curule chair on the dais with his eleven councilors, clan chieftains, sitting around him in a semi-circle. As always, Ibor stood by his side. While Tog had waited in the shadows, Caratacus approached his father and stopped at the foot of the dais.
The king wore a heavy, fur cloak about his sagging shoulders. His face appeared blank, a far-off look in his eyes. Caratacus knew what that meant. His father grew feebler with each passing day. Nevertheless, the information he possessed couldn’t wait.
Ibor whispered into the king’s ear.
Cunobelinos looked in Caratacus’s direction, appearing more alert, eyes wider. “What do you want from us, Prince Caratacus?”
Thank Teutates, he recognizes me. “I bring important news, Great King.”
The king grunted, “Tell us.”
“As you recall, your spies learned five months ago the Roman, Porcius, met with King Verica,” Caratacus said. He paused, glanced to the clan chieftains making up the High Council, also wearing heavy furs. All eyes turned to him, including those of bald-headed Fergus ap Roycal. “We have just learned Adminios has agreed with Verica’s plan to invade our lands.”
Cunobelinos flinched. “He what?”
A loud murmur erupted from the High Council. “That’s outrageous!” one member said, followed by similar outbursts.
Fergus ap Roycal raised a fist and shouted, “He’s a fucking traitor!” His raven eyes darted from one chieftain to another and back to Caratacus.
Good. No sympathy for my rotten brother. Caratacus slowly nodded before continuing. “That’s not all. The Romans may support Verica and Adminios. We know Emperor Caligula is currently with the Roman Army along the River Rhenus.”
“But that is far away from the Gallic Coast,” Ibor said.
“Ibor is right,” Cunobelinos said in a lucid voice. “What does that have to do with us?”
Good, Da is alert.
“I sent spies, disguised as traders, to check on possible troop movements,” Caratacus said. “It was the right move. They discovered and followed two cohorts of Roman legionaries that moved from the River Rhenus to the coast of Belgica on the channel.”
The king scowled and gestured with a hand toward Caratacus. “Gaul has been occupied by Romans for many years, what difference do two cohorts make?”
Caratacus bowed slightly to his father. “You’re right, but these troops are from the River Rhenus Fleet. They are well-trained in crossing rivers and ocean landings. They came to Gaul to train the legions in what they call, wet landings—for invasion by boats.”
“If they plan to invade us, they will need hundreds of boats,” Fergus ap Roycal said.
The other councilors murmured in agreement.
“And they’ll have them, Fergus,” Caratacus said. “My spies discovered flatboats being built for transporting troops nearby at the port of Gesoriacum.”
“It has to be for an invasion,” Fergus said. “I hear the rivers near the port are already crisscrossed with bridges or can be easily forded. They don’t need that many boats.”
“How can we be sure that Adminios is part of this plot?” A pockmarked chieftain said.
Fergus ap Roycal stood and took one step in Cunobelinos’s direction. “Great King, I suggest that Adminios be summoned before this council and questioned about his part in this treasonous scheme against our people.”
Ibor whispered in the king’s ear. He nodded.
Cunobelinos stood and all members of the council followed suit. “Adminios, our son and king of the Cantiaci, is hereby commanded to report to our presence to answer questions regarding his collusion with King Verica and the Romans.” He turned to Caratacus. “If what your spies say proves to be true, then Adminios will be charged with treason.”
The councilors bowed.
Cunobelinos faced Caratacus again and narrowed his eyes. “Know this, if your spies have lied, they will lose their heads!”
Caratacus grabbed the hilt of his sword. “If that is so, Great King, I will personally execute them.”
The king nodded and seemed to be satisfied with his answer. He motioned to Ibor with a hand. “See that the message is sent to Adminios at once.”
“Yes, Great King.”
Fergus ap Roycal tugged at his long, bushy moustache and asked the king, “What about the Roman, Porcius? The pig-sticker should be seized by the balls and made to answer his part in this scheme, too.”
Cunobelinos stared at the chieftain, his eyes seemed to have glazed over. His face turned expressionless, flat. “Porcius who?”
Fergus jolted. He eyed Caratacus and then Ibor. Caratacus shook his head.
The councilors looked at one another, about half of them sighing in disgust.
Ibor paled as he momentarily raised a hand up in dismay.
Caratacus stared at his father. He couldn’t believe how quickly his father had relapsed into a feebleminded state.
Cunobelinos turned his head toward Ibor and slurred. “I know Porcius—he’s our friend—so is Adminios.”
Ibor whispered to the king once more, who nodded. The Druid faced the chieftains. “I ask that you leave us for now. Prince Caratacus, you may stay.”
“But High King, there are many issues to be discussed,” Fergus ap Roycal said. “If Verica plans to attack the kingdom, we must prepare for invasion.”
“Aye,” the others murmured their agreement.
“Those and other matters will be handled in due time,” Ibor said. He cocked his head and glanced to the hall’s entrance. “Now leave us.”
After a short period of grumbling, the chieftains departed.
Caratacus studied his father as Ibor stepped to him and away from the king. He whispered to Ibor, “This situation is becoming untenable. The Council isn’t stupid. We were lucky his mind was clear enough to order Adminios to the court. They know Da is growing feebleminded.”
Ibor shrugged, his cobweb-lined face glazing at the king and then Caratacus. “I know. I don’t know how much longer I can keep them at bay.”
“Especially if either Verica or the Romans launch an invasion.”
A smirk crossed the Druids thin lips. “I don’t believe their information is correct.”
Caratacus raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean? My spies saw the Romans constructing landing barges.”
“It may be just a diversion, a facade,” Ibor said. “My sources tell me that Porcius tried to persuade Verica to wait. He fears a Roman invasion as much as we. After all, your father is pro-Roman. I know it would not be in Porcius’s interests anymore than ours.”
It wouldn’t be in yours, either!
“Regardless of Porcius’s interests in this fucking scheme,” Caratacus said, “you know my brother is involved up to his ears in this mess. He wants to take Da’s kingdom and kill me and Tog.”
Ibor grimaced. “That part is true.”
“See that Da gets back to his home—safely,” Caratacus said and departed.
*
Caratacus’s mind returned to the present as he and Tog continued riding toward their homes. Besides sending spies to Gaul and Germania to watch the Romans, he had sent spies to the land of the Cantiaci, where Adminios now ruled, to keep an eye on his activities. He’d also sent agents to Verica’s kingdom. No doubt his older brother and King Verica planned to get rid of Cunobelinos and him.
Caratacus could depend on Clud and Tog to be his allies, and there were other tribal chieftains who might aid him, such as Fergus ap Roycal. The victory over the Caledonians had sealed his reputation as a fighter and leader of men. Now that Rhian’s father, Donn, was in Camulodunum, along with Epaticcos’s former arch-Druid, Havgan, Caratacus’s chances for support had been strengthened. Those two men were still highly regarded by other tribal kings.
“Do you believe Donn and Havgan will support you?” Tog asked. He turned about as if searching the bleak land for something before returning his gaze to Caratacus.
“Donn and Havgan are not fools. They know Da is failing
and have no love for Adminios, especially Donn.” Caratacus pulled his cloak tighter about himself as they continued trotting along the muddy path.
“Your father-in-law and Havgan have known us since we were boys. They know you are the best one to succeed Da.”
Caratacus grunted and blew on his hands. “Don’t forget Verica. Ever since he reclaimed the Atrebatic throne, he has set his eyes on this kingdom. He will use his influence with Adminios and the Druids to take it for himself. Then he’ll kill Adminios and come after us.”
Tog Smirked. “If Adminios doesn’t attempt to murder us first.”
“Not to mention our families—he’ll slaughter them as well.” I have to protect Dana and Rhian at all costs, especially now that Dana is with child. Nothing must happen to her or Rhian.
Caratacus and Tog had learned that Verica had gained the throne of the Atrebates through a betrayal by their council. The chieftains had invited him to Caleva after their Uncle Epaticcos’s death and proclaimed him king of the Atrebates. The irony wasn’t lost on the brothers. Epaticcos had ousted Verica from the same position twenty years earlier.
Caratacus twisted in his saddle toward Tog. “I still can’t get over how Uncle Epaticcos got caught with a woman in a grove sacred to the Druids. It was stupid.”
Tog’s face tightened. “Our uncle was a known womanizer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been lured into the Sacred Grove as part of a plot to get rid of him. Being found there with a woman is a sacrilege. He had no choice but to kill himself.”
Caratacus balled the fingers of one hand into a fist and opened it again. “Verica must have bribed the council—it’s the only way he could have been made king, short of waging all out war,” Caratacus said.
The Wolf of Britannia Part I Page 26