by Griff Hosker
As soon as his horse whinnied Metellus was awake. He saw Macro’s eyes flash white as he too woke. Metellus gestured twice with his right hand and Macro rolled to his right notching an arrow into the bow kept by his side as he did so. Metellus rolled to his left, pulling his sword from its scabbard, and as Macro had done ruffling the blanket to look like a body with the fur hat at the top. The men approaching them were not warriors, nor were they experienced in fighting at night, for their white faces shone in the moonlight like a torch lit in the darkest night. Metellus crouched at the roots of a blackthorn tree, its barbed branches protecting his back. He noted with some satisfaction that he could not see Macro. Neither man needed any more instructions. The double hand gesture had given all the command that Macro needed. They now had to wait.
The five men edged their way closer to their intended prey until they came to the trees. Metellus almost smiled as he sensed their dilemma; they had to get through the trees without making a noise. Metellus had chosen this particular camp because there was only one way in and one way out. When they had worked out their strategy they came slowly in. Metellus marked the first man through for he was the boldest. They looked to be a sorry bunch and Metellus idly wondered who they were; there would be time for that soon enough. As the last man entered, Metellus leapt forward, his sword aimed at the bold one’s neck. Macro’s arrow took the rearmost man as Metellus’ opponent silently died. With a back hand sweep, the second man was despatched, the fourth men receiving an arrow in the back as he tried to flee. In normal circumstances Metellus would have allowed the last man to live but their mission could not afford such sentiment and Metellus finished him quickly. They had been poorly prepared opponents.
Silently they dragged the bodies out of the camp to view them better in the moonlight. They were Votadini and they saw the clan marks and amulets. However they were so ill armed and equipped that Metellus could only suppose that they were outcasts or outlaws. “Find one who is your size Macro and take his clothes. They may come in handy. Take their daggers and their amulets, in fact anything you think we can use.”
Macro nodded. It was distasteful stripping a dead body covered in blood and gore but, as they had discovered before, sometimes it was the only way. None of them had any papers or identification although one did have a pendant in his pouch along with a couple of coins. “Take the coins as well, they are not Roman and may well help the deception later on. Once they had taken all that they could, they carried the bodies one by one and hurled them over the cliffs into the sea. The tide was coming in and the two bodies that landed on the rocks would be washed out soon.
The next day they headed swiftly up the coast. They were doubtful that the men they had killed would be missed but it didn’t do to take chances. They had both donned some of the Votadini clothes, both were wearing the Votadini daggers and Metellus had the pendant beneath his tunic. The icy wind blew from the north east, driving tiny droplets of salt water into their faces, crusting their beards, or at least the early stages of the beards. Drizzle turned to sleet and washed off the salt but soaked them making them feel more tired than they were. It served a purpose as it was such a filthy day that there would be few people out on the coastal path.
They came above a small fishing port with a fortified wall and oppidum. “Julius is good. He knew that this place existed but not its name. Apparently this was mapped by the Classis Britannica during Agricola’s invasion but no-on thought to find its name.”
“Thank you for the lesson teacher but how does that help us?”
Metellus pointed to the west. “Because, young Sergeant Macro, that hill which you can see there, is Traprain Law and we are almost at our destination. We need to skirt this town, cross the road, which will be busy and make for the coast. If we get to the road we can wait until night.”
The road followed the valley of the small river which ran into the sea under the walls of the hill fort. There was still much traffic making its way along the road for the conclave which would begin in a few days’ time. There was nothing for the two Explorates to do but wait until nightfall. The risk of going through and being seen at dusk was too great. They camped close to the beach of the Bodotrian estuary and Metellus relaxed a little. “That is the first hard part finished. If we play our parts well then we will find the next hard part will be getting close to Traprain Law.”
Macro looked over nervously at Metellus. “I am not becoming frightened or getting cold feet but did Livius think through the plan of getting into the fort?”
“I know what you mean. They normally have tight security, hand over weapons, only the chiefs and bodyguards allowed through but I think that is why Livius sent me and not Marcus. I will need to come up with a plan once we have scouted Traprain Law. That will probably be tomorrow at about noon.”
“The other worry I have is that we do not speak the local dialect. I have a few words of Votadini but I would have no idea what someone from the islands sounded like.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. There will be so many different dialects that they will all use the common tongue, the ones the Brigante use and that is second nature to you. If anyone tries a dialect you do not actually understand then just say you don’t understand or ask them to talk slower.”
Once they saw the enormous rock that was the new oppidum of Din Eidyn, Metellus led them south. They had had a morning without a single traveller who crossed their path, the weather was that bad. Metellus also knew that most visitors would have arrived before they had for the conclave was but two days away and any visitor would want to maximise the hospitality. Once on the road south they could see that it was well travelled from the ruts and heavy hoof prints.
The sharp eyed Macro suddenly murmured. “People up ahead.”
“Keep going at the same speed, don’t slow down. It will look suspicious.” Metellus began to put his machine like brain into action. He saw that it was a large group of about thirty travellers. The ones at the rear were obviously servants or slaves and had the pack animals. At the sides were six outriders, guards and in the middle was a carriage with the important people. He deduced that there would be outriders at the front too. The carriage marked the people as either a king or an important chief along with his wife. Metellus frowned; it was unusual to take you wife to a conclave such as this.
Someone saw them and two heavily armed riders rode back to speak with them. Both men had spears, armour and good helmets. Metellus could see that they were experienced warriors by their battle amulets and scars on their faces. “Our master Burdach, King of the Dumnonii wishes to know your business.”
Mentally Metellus took a deep breath. “We are travelling to the conclave called at Traprain Law by Lugubelenus, the King of the Votadini.”
Metellus noted with relief that the tips of the spears dropped and the men relaxed. They turned their horses to ride alongside the two Romans. “We too go there.”
One of them leaned over to Macro and said, “I will be glad to get into the warmth of a fire for this cold soaks through to your bones.”
“You are late arriving. It was better weather last week.”
The guard ignored the obvious question which was to ask why they had left it so late but Metellus had such an easy way about him that men spoke easily to him. “And we would have left last week but we were waiting for one of the Chiefs from the Epidii, Curach, who wished to accompany us but we received a message saying that he was delayed and would not be attending.”
Metellus reacted quickest to the news. “The Allfather is mighty is he not?”
“Yes but…”
“We are from the Epidii. We are related to Curach through his wife’s sister and we were visiting the chief when he sent the message.” He grinned at Macro, “My young cousin and I thought it would be a great opportunity to visit the mainland and see other chiefs.” He looked conspiratorially at the guard, “And sup all the ale and food that such a conclave entails. The Allfather has indeed looked after us.”
> The guard looked suspiciously at Metellus. “The why did you not say so when I said we were from the King of the Dumnonii?”
Metellus shrugged innocently, “We did not know. The Chief did not tell us that we were meeting anyone. He just said he couldn’t make the trip because his legs were playing up in the cold and we asked if we could go in his stead.”
The guard relaxed. “Aye he is an old man and old men suffer in the cold. I will go and tell my lord.” Leaving the other guard with them he trotted off. Metellus risked a glance at Macro on the other side and winked. He had been deadly serious; the Allfather was looking after them. When the guard returned he asked if you would join the royal party.
As they trotted between the guards Metellus, wondered if they had dressed in a better way. He had confidence that Macro would remember their story. Their main problem now was talking about the place they lived for surely the king would ask those sorts of questions.
When they reached the carriage, they could see that it was nothing more than a box between two horses carrying the queen, a rather over weight and red faced woman. Riding on her right was the king a greybeard, who like his wife, obviously enjoyed good food. They were however, both jolly folk who greeted Metellus and Macro like long lost relatives. “I knew Old Curach wouldna let me down. The leg was it?”
“Aye,” Metellus picked up on the burr and accent straight away, “he wasna very happy aboot missing the grand food and drinks.”
The king looked conspiratorially at Metellus. “Saved us a wee fortune this has. We’re looking forward to his hospitality aren’t we my dear?”
“Aye and you look as though a good meal wouldna go amiss nor your wee brother there.” Metellus did not try to correct the Queen, it all added to the story. He noticed that Macro was riding next to a pretty girl; no Metellus looked again, a young woman. The queen saw his glance. “Aye and the other reason we are happy is that wee Morag is now a woman and with no son and heir. We hoped that she might meet one.” She looked Metellus in the eye and said bluntly, “Have you a title? Money?”
“No we are the poor relatives from Dun Eibhinn.”
“Dun Eibhinn? It is no wonder you have no money, for it is a pitifully poor place.”
“Aye but we like it.”
The king nodded wisely, “Aye well if a man disna love his won home it is a poor thing. No offence er...” He gestured for Metellus to close with him.
“Darach and that is Aodh.”
“Well Darach no offence but your wee brother is a bonnie looking lad but he hasna neither enough money nor a title to be courting yon lassie so give him the word eh?”
Metellus smiled, “I will do and thank you for your honesty sir.”
“Ach we are almost family, now tell me more about this poor little isle of yours.”
By the time they reached the encampment which surrounded Traprain Law Metellus and Macro were part of the Dumnonii royal party and the king included him as one of theirs whenever they had to pass through security. Finally they reached the gate where the Steward and the King awaited them. “Good to see you Burdach. We thought we you might never get here.”
The King winked at Metellus, “Aye a few wee problems. This is kin from the Epidii, Darach and Aodh.”
Lugubelenus came over to embrace Metellus. “You cannot know how glad I am that some of the younger folk from the isles are here. We need your support too. How is old Curach then? Still suffering with the cold?”
“Yes your majesty, it is his legs.”
“The Allfather curses all of us with some ailment.”
“Aye and it gets worse when you get older, “Burdach rubbed his hands together. “I hope you havna put us in a tent Lugubelenus.”
“You know me better than that. You and your daughter are close to the main hall, “he chuckled,” and the fire. I am afraid, Darach, that you and your kin will be in a tent but rest assured we will give you all the passwords and you will be eating in the great hall. My Steward will accompany you.”
Metellus and Macro both bowed,”Your majesty is too kind. We brought our own blankets and would have been happy enough to sleep n a field.”
As the two kings walked away Lugubelenus said, “What a polite and thoughtful young man. Are there many like him in the isles?”
“No he is one of my better behaved kin from the wee poor land of Dun Eibhinn.”
Macro and Metellus thanked the Steward for his kindness as they were shown to the leather tent provided for them. As they laid out their gear Macro suddenly said, “Well of all the cheek.”
“What?”
“This tent, it is one of the Ninth’s, look you can see the markings.”
As Metellus examined it he replied, “Well it is no wonder he can house them all.”
“By the way Metellus…”
“Darach,” he pointed to his ears and then at the outside.
“Sorry, Darach but Livius was right.”
“About what?”
“About you coming and not Marcus. Marcus would never have been so quick thinking back there. Perhaps Rufius would have been a better companion.”
“Don’t put yourself down. We only need one world class liar in this team. Find anything out about the bonnie lassie?”
“Just that she wants to shag my brains out! She was so hot I was getting a little worried.”
“Well keep it in your pants my young friend, the king told me to warn you off. You are too poor and you don’t have a title.”
“Thank the Allfather for that. How do we play it tonight?”
“Let’s put out horses in the stabling area. We don’t know when we might have to leave in a hurry and then we’ll try out the passwords the Steward gave us and wander in the compound. Let’s stay together and pick up as much information as we can. They think you are my brother so let’s play you the shy little boy just away from the islands.”
“Why?”
“They will feel sorry for you and are more likely to let slip something important.”
The guards gave them a quick scrutiny but, having recently seen them talking to their king they did not see them as a threat and they gave the correct passwords. Inside the compound they could see that new huts had been built for the nobility who had arrived. There was fresh straw on the ground to soak up the melting snow and tendrils of smoke rose from every hut. The main hall was in the centre and raised to be higher than the other buildings and even the wall. Only the four towers at each corner were taller. “Keep your eyes peeled and we will share the intelligence tonight.” There were guards at the open doors of the main hall and they scrutinised the two men more closely but as they had the passwords they were admitted. Inside, the roaring fire gave instant heat and light. There were many nobles gathered around and, for a moment, the two of them felt slightly intimidated. It was one thing to wander into a tavern in a strange place but here… they were out of their depth. Fortunately they heard a booming shout, “Darach. Over here boys.” As they walked over to the king they saw that he was sitting at a long table with others of a similar age and they all had foaming horns of ale in their hands. “These are two distant kin from Dun Eibhinn.” He paused and then looked at each of them in the face. “You wouldna have heard of it as it is a piss poor little island that no-one wants to fight for.” They all laughed and the King looked at Metellus, “No offence laddie.”
“And none taken uncle,” Metellus deliberately used the affectionate title given to friends of the family to further the deception and the King did not seem to mind. It raised their status with the other nobles. “In fact it is why my wee brother and I are here. If we are going to start knocking a few Roman heads about we might either get some money or a wee bit of land?” He winked at Burdach, “It’ll stop us stealing our neighbour’s land eh?”
Macro thought that Metellus had gone too far for there was a brief moment of silence and they all laughed. “Oh I do like the ladies from the islands. Nary a coin between them but witty as.”
Lugubelenus
wandered over, “I can see that this is the table to be at. I love to see my lords enjoying themselves.”
“It’s wee Darach here. He’s ready to take on the Roman army and get some treasure for himself.”
For a moment the king became serious, “Romans? It is only one idea.”
Metellus was saved by another king, Luarch of the Novontae, who said, “A bloody good idea. Save you, Darach here, coming to steal my gold or his wee brother from stealing my daughter.” Macro blushed. “Oh aye, laddie we all heard how you stole Morag’s heart. We’ll have to watch our women folk around a good looking laddie like you.”
Metellus and Marcus performed their Explorate trick of appearing to drink as much as any, appear to be as drunk as any of the others but remaining stone cold sober. The looks between then showed when they had gather information and when they had gleaned something valuable. The watched and they learned. The Great Hall filled up as more and more people arrived; finally everyone stood in silence as the King of the Votadini arrived in a magnificent suit of armour, glistening like gold. He was followed by his wife Radha who seemed to float above the room like a pixie or fairy. Every man fell in love with her in an instant. Finally after a silence which seemed to ache in to a lifetime. Morwenna walked in. Macro had never seen her before but he had never seen ought so beautiful and he was entranced instantly. Metellus felt a shiver across his soul and Morwenna, well Morwenna stopped as though she had walked into a stone wall, there was a silence and even Radha looked around in confusion. Morwenna’s face showed, for the first time, indecision and confusion. Somewhere in this room was her child!