Traitor

by Geraint Jones

  The answer to that was simple. ‘Because his love of Rome is stronger.’

  Pinnes held my look, then turned to face his lands.

  ‘Have you ever been?’ he asked. ‘Rome?’

  ‘I have not.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like either of us will now, does it?’ He smiled wistfully. ‘It is a shame. I would have liked to see it.’

  I waited for him to go on. There was sadness in the king’s words. ‘I would have been a loyal subject of Rome, Corvus, but she asked too much. A generation ago they took away fathers and uncles as slaves for Rome. So be it. Such is conquest, and the fate of the losing side. It was a scar, but a scar we could have lived with…

  ‘But then they asked the sons and grandsons of those men to pick up arms, and fight Rome’s war for her in Germania. They asked us to die for Rome, when they had already taken so much from us. How could they be so blind, Corvus? How could they not see the limit of a man’s mind, and pride?’

  He turned to face me. ‘Rome wanted my men – my boys – to die in her wars. What other choice did I have but to say no? At least now, the sons of Pannonia will be buried in the soil of their homeland.’

  I saw it in his eyes, then. He knew this was a war he could not win.

  My heart sank. ‘Do your men know?’

  The king thought to deny what I had seen, then shook his head. ‘In their own hearts? Maybe. But it is something they will never hear from their king.’

  He set his hands on my shoulders. ‘You have seen weakness in me.’ He smiled. ‘I should push you out of this tower.’ The smile grew larger. ‘Part of me thinks you would thank me for it.’

  I said nothing.

  ‘I hear you left the camp?’ Pinnes said then. There was a question in it, and I waited for more. ‘With a Dalmatian woman?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Please don’t do that again.’ He said it softly, but there was something hard behind the words.

  I spoke before I could control my tongue. ‘I am a prisoner here?’

  ‘You are not,’ the king assured me, and then he smiled sadly, and patted my shoulder. ‘Go back to your tent, Corvus. Spend time with your friends.’

  He turned away. I moved to the ladder, and began to descend.

  I paused with my head above the parapet, and took one last look at the king who stood above his nation.

  I did not know if I’d ever seen a man more alone.

  Chapter 25

  Some days the tent’s calfskin canvas whipped and snapped with wind. On others it sagged with snow. I huddled with Cynbel and Thumper. Food was meagre, but regardless of what was in our stomachs, Thumper’s farts had mercy for no man. I had decided that I did not enjoy winter in the mountains.

  Beneath blankets and furs we slept as much as possible to conserve energy. Even Cynbel had stopped trying to get me to read every scroll that he had brought with us. Thumper suggested we use them for kindling, but relented when Cynbel promised to gouge his eyes out, should he ever commit such a crime.

  Every few days I was called into the king’s company. He did not keep a raging fire in his hall – not when his men were cold outside. Rather, we took our conversations out in the open. The king walked the perimeter, checking on the shivering guards and asking about their life in the past, and hopes for the future. He was a good leader.

  He asked me about Rome, and war and battle. I told him what I could. None of it was a secret, or known only to me. I expected that the king just wanted his own knowledge confirmed.

  ‘He wants your company,’ Cynbel explained one day. Like me, he had been called to the king every few days.

  ‘What do you talk about?’ I asked him.

  ‘That’s between me and the king.’ He was not short with his answer, but it was final. ‘Think about it, Corvus. He can’t confide in his subordinates – no leader can – and no matter what he says, you are not one of them. You are an outsider, but one with a reputation for war.’

  ‘I’m no leader.’

  ‘I’m not accusing you of that.’ Cynbel smiled. ‘But you’re the closest thing that he’s got to someone who he can talk to, man to man, not king to subject. There are other deserters in this army, Thracians and Germans, but do you see them in the king’s company?’

  I had not.

  ‘Because they don’t have a reputation. If you were an unknown soldier like them then, yes, perhaps you could blend into the rebel army and be a part of it like any other, but you do have a reputation, Corvus, and those with the biggest reputations live the loneliest lives.’

  Something in his tone struck me – he knew this first-hand. ‘And what about your reputation, old friend?’ I tried again. ‘What about your war?’

  Cynbel smiled at my effort. ‘I am sick of war, Corvus. Let me tell you about my home, instead.’

  And so he did.

  ‘In beauty and spirit, Beatha was a mirror of the land of her ancestors. It is a welcoming island, Corvus. We have seasons, but they are not deadly. The land wants to feed you. There are no deserts. There are no blizzards that will bury your home. We have mountains, yes, but they are like an old friend, not a menacing neighbour. They watch over us, and give us refuge when we need it. We have woods that teem with game, and winding rivers that brim with fish. I love the rivers, Corvus. They are not the wide beasts you find in this part of the world. They bring you food, and water, but they do not form impossible barriers. I used to swim in them, and watch the birds take the fish, and the fish take the insects, and the insects take each other. Insects are the slaves of the animal world, Corvus, but even if they and all the life of Britannia were to disappear, the cliffs would remain. White cliffs, Corvus, taller than any building you have ever seen. Save that of his own children, they are the greatest sight that a man can ever behold.’

  The Briton’s smile was warm enough to heat the tent. In his mind, I could see that he was walking the land of his youth. ‘Your father ended my life as a slave,’ he told me, ‘but when I touch that soil again… that is when I will be truly free.’

  Three days later I was called to the king. Snow lay thick on the ground. Grey cloud hung heavy in the sky. I knew what was coming: this was good weather for thieves.

  ‘Corvus,’ the king smiled, ‘it is time to rid Rome of her coins.’

  * * *

  Over the next two days we prepared to depart for Siscia, and the ‘liberation’ of the pay chests from the Eighth Legion.

  I would not be going alone. Vuk and seven other members of the king’s bodyguard would join me. No doubt they were picked men, loyal to Pinnes unto death. They certainly looked the part. The youngest was about my own age. They were hard men, these Pannonians. It had long been a region of war and brutality. At first they said little to me, but Vuk wanted me to describe the town of Siscia, the layout of the fort, and who we might find inside. I used sticks and stones to mark out the camp that had been home to me for many years. My briefing bred questions, and questions bred conversation. It was the talk of professional killers and fighters, but outside of Thumper, Cynbel and the king, it was by far the longest conversation I’d had with anyone since joining the rebel army. Though I felt far from accepted, I did not feel any hostility from these men.

  ‘They respect your reputation,’ Cynbel told me. He and King Pinnes had been present for my talks with Vuk and his men, which had taken place in the quiet of the king’s hall. ‘They wouldn’t be going if they didn’t think you could do this.’

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. ‘I wish I shared their confidence.’

  I saw a flicker of worry pass over Cynbel’s face. We were alone in our tent, working the blades and armour that I had been issued by the royal bodyguard.

  ‘If you don’t think you…’ his words trailed away. ‘The king likes you, Corvus. He wouldn’t want you to go on a suicide mission.’

  I worked a whetstone against the edge of my sword. ‘I need to do this.’ And I did. I knew I was no saviour, but I had seen the lean faces grow
ing leaner in the camp as winter had crept over the mountains. All were hungry, and none more so than the women and children. The soldiers needed feeding first, as they would be the ones who needed their strength for battle, but that didn’t make the gaunt faces of the children any easier to look at.

  I saw Cynbel smile. As ever, my tutor saw through me. ‘What?’

  ‘Something has changed in you, Corvus,’ he said fondly.

  ‘Yes. I’ve been freezing my arse off since summer.’

  Cynbel laughed at my effort. I knew what he was getting at.

  ‘Amazing,’ the old Briton smirked, ‘how a man can develop a love for a child, when that child has a beautiful mother.’

  ‘She’s beautiful, is she?’ I feigned indifference. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  For a moment we drifted into silence. ‘Tell me honestly, Corvus. Is there not a part of you that is looking forward to what lies ahead?’

  He meant the raid.

  ‘A part?’ I owed him an honest answer. ‘Yes.’

  Killing? No. Deceit? No. But riding and ranging the country in the company of soldiers?

  ‘You are your father’s son,’ Cynbel grinned. ‘A pure-bred warrior.’

  I didn’t know about that.

  ‘All men are born to serve, Corvus. For you and your father, that life’s service has been war.’

  It was my father’s death that concerned me more. The grief of it seemed almost out of reach. I was aware of it at all times, and yet it was as though his death had never happened. As though I had never found him hanging from his own tree. Could a mind only suffer so much? Had the horrors of war, and Beatha’s murder, already filled the cup of what I could comprehend?

  Cynbel saw the clouds forming over my spirit. His face became that of the concerned man who had known me as a boy. ‘What you may find in Siscia,’ he ventured, ‘it worries you?’

  I gave a curt nod.

  ‘It couldn’t be any other way, Corvus. Just remember that you are going there to retrieve, not to fight. This isn’t something you need to weigh yourself down with. Just do what you have to do, and come back here.’

  I nodded again. ‘I’ll come back,’ I promised. ‘Can’t leave you here alone after dragging you across the province, can I?’

  He smiled weakly, but there was more.

  ‘What?’ I asked – but then the tent flap flew back, and Thumper bundled in from the cold, with Miran and Borna in tow.

  ‘We’ve come to see you off!’ he declared. ‘Do you have anything good to leave me when you die?’

  ‘Only Cynbel,’ I shrugged, and the Pannonian roared in laughter.

  ‘I always wanted a slave.’

  ‘I’m a freedman.’

  ‘Quiet, slave!’

  We laughed, and sat close in the tight space of the tent. Miran was opposite me, and I stole glances at her beautiful face, and her perfect, crooked nose. When she saw me look, my eyes went quickly to my hands. Why did I become a child around her?

  ‘I’d like to tell a story, if I may?’ Cynbel asked when we had finished the food, and no one objected. Everyone liked Cynbel. Everyone liked his stories.

  ‘Very well, slave,’ Thumper granted with a theatrical wave of his hand. ‘Tell us a good one. Something with fighting.’

  Cynbel nodded. ‘Do you know what a baggage train is?’

  ‘Of course,’ Thumper snorted. ‘It’s where an army keeps its cowards, looking after the blankets.’

  The old Briton gave a wry smile. ‘This story is about a man in an army’s baggage train, and not a happy one. You see, the rest of his friends had been sent from the army to scout a nearby village, but he had been left behind to watch their carts.’

  ‘Because he was a coward,’ Thumper guessed.

  ‘No, because it was a punishment. The unit’s commander knew that there was no greater misery he could inflict on this soldier than separating him from his brothers, and so while they went into danger, he could do nothing but worry and wait for news.’

  ‘What happened?’ Miran asked. There was empathy in her eyes. Had she waited on such news herself?

  ‘They found trouble in the village,’ Cynbel told her. ‘A lot of trouble. So much, in fact, that the commander of the army decided it would be too costly to recover them.’

  ‘They left them?’ I asked.

  Cynbel looked at me. ‘The army did, but not the man in the baggage train. He begged, borrowed and stole every javelin he could lay his hands on. Then, with the help of a slave, he secured a shield to himself with rope, and drove the cart to his besieged brothers.’

  ‘Through the enemy?’ Thumper asked, incredulous.

  ‘Through the enemy,’ Cynbel confirmed. ‘They were all over the village. He was hit by stone. He was cut by blades. The animals pulling the cart were killed, but he was close enough that his unit were able to fight their way to him, and they dragged the cart inside of the enclosure where they were making their last stand. There, with more javelins, water, wine and supplies, they held off the enemy for a day and night. Over half of them fell, but by his actions, the man in the baggage train saved the lives of dozens of his brothers.’

  Miran was silent. Thumper was nodding deeply in admiration.

  I had to know. ‘What happened to him?’

  Cynbel turned to me and smiled. ‘He came home, and had you.’

  The air left my lungs. I was struck dumb.

  ‘He was…’ I managed at last. ‘That was my father?’

  I had never seen Cynbel look so proud. ‘That was your father, Corvus.’

  And then it came for me.

  The grief. The pain. The sorrow.

  My father was dead, and I had never known him.

  I didn’t want to cry in front of this company, but there was nothing that could hold it back now, and tears ran over my cheeks in an unbroken stream. I looked down at the floor. I felt Cynbel place his hand on one shoulder. Thumper placed his on the other.

  ‘It’s all right to cry, lad,’ he promised me. ‘Even if it is a bit Greek.’

  It was a poor attempt to make me smile, but it was enough. I looked up from the floor. To Cynbel.

  ‘Why didn’t he tell me this?’

  ‘He wanted to keep you from war.’

  At this, we all laughed, and sadly. There was no keeping anyone from war.

  ‘But he was proud,’ Cynbel told me. ‘To see who you had become. Here,’ he reached down the neck of his many layers. ‘I have something for you.’

  Cynbel lifted something over his head. I recognised it at once. Attached to the leather lace was a gold disc, the size of a palm, and engraved with the face of Jupiter. I had been awarded one myself, for saving the eagle.

  ‘This was my father’s?’ I asked in awe as he handed it to me.

  ‘It was. Given to him for his actions that day.’

  I held the metal in my hand, and rubbed my fingers over the award given to my father, the soldier, the man I had never known. After a long moment I held it out to Cynbel, but my friend shook his head.

  ‘It’s time you took it.’

  Tears threatened to break out for a second time. Pride and sadness swirled around me. ‘At least look after it until I get back,’ I asked, but Cynbel shook his head again, and closed my hand around the medal.

  ‘I won’t be here, Corvus,’ he told me gently. ‘I’m coming with you, and then… And then I’m going home.’

  Chapter 26

  We rode out the next morning before dawn. The air was filled with sleet, and the camp was covered in a white blanket that reflected the moonlight, by which I could see the stern faces of Vuk, the royal bodyguards, and our final companion.

  Cynbel.

  The Briton’s revelation that he was leaving with us had worried me. The fact that he was doing so to return to Britannia broke my heart. It was a selfish feeling, but one that I could not let go. Cynbel was the only thing that I had left of the good days of my life. With him gone, I feared that the door would be closed on my ha
ppiest memories.

  He knew me. Of course he knew me. ‘You’ll always be in here.’ He’d tapped his chest, the night before. ‘And I’ll always be in there.’ He’d tapped my own.

  ‘It’s not the same…’ I’d said, like the child that I felt.

  ‘You can always come with me.’

  ‘You know I can’t,’ I’d said quietly. ‘I swore to do this for King Pinnes.’

  ‘It was his suggestion,’ the Briton had revealed with a grin. ‘He’s a good man, that one. If he were emperor, perhaps this war would not have happened.’

  ‘You’re not serious? He said that?’

  Cynbel had nodded, and swore that it was truth – King Pinnes was offering me a way out. ‘He likes you,’ Cynbel said as reason why.

  We’d hoped to see Thumper before our departure, but our friend was part of a scavenging party that was not expected back for another day. ‘That’s how it goes in life, sometimes,’ Cynbel shrugged, ‘At least we had last night. I hope that he knows how well I enjoyed his company.’

  As our horses walked closer to the palisade I saw a guard waiting for us in the middle of the open gate. I recognised the king of the Breuci, and leader of the rebel army.

  ‘Come to wish you good luck!’ Pinnes said enthusiastically. ‘No need to dismount!’ He told his men. He walked to each, shaking hands and speaking words of pride. I could feel their loyalty to him coming off them in waves.

  Despite his order to stay in the saddle I slid from mine. I needed to see him eye to eye.

  ‘Is what Cynbel says true?’ I asked quietly.

  His smile was coy. ‘I would appreciate it if you helped us liberate the chests first, but yes. It is true.’

  ‘Why?’

  The king’s smile grew. ‘Why not? You’re a good man, Corvus, but one man won’t swing this war. Besides, I’m rather fond of old Cynbel. I’d sleep easier knowing that he had you by his side.’

  He was offering me a way out, but I knew in that moment that I would come back. ‘You’re a good king.’ I spoke honestly.