by N. M. Browne
‘I’d rather an ally who didn’t drown her friends,’ said the bard shaking his wet cloak.
‘You ungrateful dung-skulls,’ said Dan dangerously. ‘Thanks to Ursula we’re alive, and we nearly weren’t.’
Rhonwen’s voice had recovered some of her silver poise.
‘It takes subtlety the outlander has not yet learned to compose an illusion.’
Ursula bit back a response. Rhonwen could be as vindictive as she liked; anything was more bearable than that awful mental wailing.
Chapter Twenty-four
Macsen would not allow them to stop for long. Ursula had no idea how much of the river had burst its banks. It was only a matter of time before the Ravens found a safe place to cross and continued their pursuit.
Macsen was depressingly certain that they had come across the vanguard of the advancing legion. The cavalry and auxiliary infantry would not be far behind, and behind them the artillery and the main body of the legion. The whole might of Rome was only days away from Craigwen. Macsen’s face was as grey as the dawn. Ursula told him about the betrayal of Huw and what she’d overheard. Her evidence backed up Rhonwen’s. The Brigantes under King Lud were clearly a lost cause. They would have to fight with what they had. The only thing to do was to ride like the wind for Craigwen and get ready for the battle to come.
‘There’s no point in sitting out a siege, though we have three months’ grain and clean well water. There’s none to relieve us if the Brigantes have sided with the Ravens.’ Macsen’s voice was grim.
‘I’d like to bet that Huw will be riding back to Lud by now, leaving the Ravens to finish us off. Huw knows the fortress too well for my liking. We’ll have trouble if any of Huw’s friends are traitors. It takes little courage to poison a well.’ Gwyn’s voice was equally gloomy. He’d never liked Huw, but he had shared a horn of ale with him only the previous night. If he saw him again he would kill him very slowly and keep his skull for a rat-trap in the fortress stables.
‘Maybe we should go with Cadal, if he will let us cross with him to the Sacred Isle. We could regroup there and rebuild a force to retake Craigwen. I can offer my warriors only death if they stay to fight it out.’
Macsen’s normally commanding voice was no more than a thoughtful whisper. Ursula thought he looked simultaneously very young and very haggard. He bore a huge responsibility – the survival of his people.
‘How many men do they have?’ Dan sounded very unsure of himself. He needed to understand the odds.
‘They have around five thousand men plus the auxilia – another four thousand maybe.’
‘How many Combrogi?’ Dan did not really want to know the answer.
‘If Kai has done his job and sent out the call, we will have between three and four thousand men, but less than half are warriors. The other half are farmers, servants of the tribes. They will die as well as any man if I ask them to, but they can’t be relied upon to take many of the enemy with them.’
It was not many against the Ravens but it was more than Ursula could envisage within Craigwen’s walls.
‘But what about Cadal?’ she asked. ‘He’s an ally isn’t he?’
There was a pause. It was the bard who spoke.
‘Cadal will have sailed for Ireland by now. He’s a prudent man. He will have taken advantage of calm waters.’ The bard paused to consider his words. ‘Before we left he entrusted me with the task of finding the Princess Rhonwen and ensuring that she still intends to honour the marriage proposal. He’ll need my word that Princess Rhonwen intends to keep hers before he will fulfil his. We are tied here in a tangle of oaths. Of course my witness to her marriage oath would be better surety still. Then he’ll send men, but they will stay on the sea to protect the fortress’ seaward side. The Ravens may bring ships – we don’t know.’
Rhonwen’s face was unreadable. Dan had given her the mask.
‘You can have my marriage oath now, if it will help us.’ Rhonwen had recovered much of her composure. She sounded her old smooth-tongued self, though her hand, when she gave it to the bard, trembled.
‘Very well.’
The bard adjusted his cloak, combed his wild beard with his fingers and adopted a more formal stance. Macsen and the others formed a small tight circle around Rhonwen and the bard, as witnesses to her vows. It was the oddest wedding ceremony Ursula could imagine: a wet, travel-stained and bloody congregation, a silver-masked bride and no bridegroom. But by the law of the tribes it was binding and Rhonwen had kept her word.
It was one small burden lifted from Macsen’s back. He managed a smile and kissed his sister’s silver cheek. ‘Fertility and prosperity,’ he whispered. Rhonwen said nothing. Ursula found it impossible to imagine what she was thinking but whatever it was it did not impinge upon Ursula. There was no silent wailing in Ursula’s head, nothing more than the usual headache to remind her that Rhonwen and her antipathy were near. They mounted the scarcely rested horses and rode, fast, for Craigwen.
Afterwards Ursula could remember little of the journey itself. She could ride adequately now, provided she was not required to gallop or do anything too difficult. She was tired after her magical exertions but the power in her had scarcely ebbed. It was increasingly clear to her that her magic was the only way out for Macsen and his men. There must be something she could do, if only she could think of it. Could she make the earth quake and somehow destroy the army before it reached them? Could she do that and could she bear so much death on her own conscience? She knew deep within herself that the answer lay in the Veil that haunted her dreams.
What Macsen really needed was more men. Where could she get an army to fight a Roman legion from? The answer was obvious but impossible. Even if she could raise the Veil, which was at best unproven, how could she make it work where she wanted it to? She gnawed at the problem all the long ride back. She would have asked Rhonwen, but the woman’s hatred of her darkened the air between them. In the end she asked the bard.
‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’ The bard was himself deep in thought but he nodded. ‘Do you know about the Veil?’ She was breathless from the pace of the ride. His eyes were guarded, but he nodded again. ‘Can you tell me how it works?’
‘Not exactly, Lady, I know of no one living who could do that and I’m sceptical about the dead.’
Ursula paused. The bard knew something she was sure. He was, after all, a magician in his own way.
‘Tell me what you know, please. I can’t ask Rhonwen and I need to know.’
Dan had ridden up beside him and was listening with an almost painful intensity to every word.
‘The Veil is just a name for one of the places where the walls between worlds is thin,’ the bard began. ‘The druids conjured what they thought of as bridges through blood sacrifice, prayer, fasting and very complicated rituals. I don’t know if the new magic works the same way, but I was taught that the aim of the sacrifice is to pay the toll; the aim of the ritual is to focus the mind; the aim of the fast is to free the spirit and the aim of the prayer is to call on the well of power that holds the universe in place. These are sacred things, Ursula, only a few years ago I would have been eviscerated for telling you this, and in truth I don’t know much more. I suspect it is like all magic. I believe it is your will that guides it and the power that permits it. Your soul calls to the power even if you give it no name. That is all I know. I am sorry it is not more.’
Dan nodded, as if it all made perfect sense to him, as if the bard had just given him instructions to Basingstoke from the M25.
‘And is this very dangerous?’
It was Rhonwen who answered. No one had even known she had been listening.
Her voice sounded distant, wistful. ‘It is like riding a tempest balanced on a chariot’s axle, like swimming through a whirlpool. Of course it’s dangerous.’ She was all scorn. ‘I do not think one who fears to be a woman will have the courage.’
Dan had a retort on the tip of his tongue but before he could say i
t she had ridden off, black hair streaming behind her like a dark flag.
‘If it’s dangerous I don’t think you should do it.’
Dan was unequivocal. Taliesin looked uncomfortable. ‘That is not for me to say. I know only that if you doubt and try it anyway you will die. There are many stories of druids who could not find their way home when they lost their … faith in the power and their will. You cannot be persuaded to do it, and if it is your destiny you cannot be persuaded against it.’ Looking deeply miserable, the bard too rode off.
‘Ursula, you mustn’t.’
Ursula’s expression was granite.
‘If I do not, we will all die. You heard the odds.’
‘Ursula, we could flee to Ireland.’
‘Macsen doesn’t believe that. What Combrogi King will let another King and his fifteen hundred warriors stay in his kingdom? Hell, even I know that couldn’t work. Five of them can hardly be in the same room without a fight breaking out about something. The mind boggles at the trouble fifteen hundred or more would cause. That won’t work, Dan. Macsen will choose to fight. You know he will. All of them will, not to would be eternal shame. They’re warriors. They’re scarcely sane when it comes to battle and honour.’
Dan had to admit that the Irish option had struck him as a long shot.
‘Well, what would you raise the Veil for?’
‘To bring men to fight for Macsen, of course.’
‘I don’t see how you can even think about that. Where would you get them from? Anyway, even if you could do it, you’d be taking them from their homes, their lives like we were taken. What gives you that right?’
Ursula sighed. ‘Don’t have a go at me. I’m just trying to find a way to keep us alive and keep my promises at Alavna, to Macsen, to you. Do you think we can go home unless I learn how to raise the Veil? Did you hear Prys say that the men who were chasing us were from the legion that destroyed Alavna? They were probably some of the same men, the scouts of the Second legion.’
‘I’m not meaning to have a go, Ursula, but the Veil business is …’
‘Mad? Yes, it is. Being here is mad. You being a superman berserker is mad. Me doing magic is mad. None of it makes sense.’ Ursula’s tone was angry, then she took a deep breath and calmed herself. ‘I think I can raise the Veil. I’ve dreamed of nothing else since we came here. I think I could do it and I know where I would get the men from too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Remember history with Mrs Enright in year seven?’
‘Yes, of course. I reminded you about it.’
‘Yes, OK. Remember the stuff about the legions?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘Do you remember, she talked a bit about a Roman legion that disappeared. There was a book written about them. It was a story, I forget what it was called, we read some of it in class, but the thing was, there really was no record of what happened to them.’
‘The ninth legion, Hispana.’
‘That’s right. I might have known you’d remember the name. Well, what if they disappeared because they came here? And they came here because I brought them!’
‘You’re mad. Anyway, that was nearly two thousand years ago. They’re long dead.’
‘If we were in our time they would be, but when are we now?’
Dan wrinkled his brow. ‘I don’t know. I don’t even know which emperor’s in power. Boudicca was sometime before AD 70 I think.’
Ursula snapped at him in impatience. ‘It was a rhetorical question, I didn’t mean you to try to work it out. What I mean is we’ve either gone back in time or crossed into another world, right? So I don’t think it matters with raising the Veil when or where it is.’
‘How did Rhonwen get us, then? What was she looking for?’
Ursula was hesitant for the first time. She dropped her voice. ‘I’ve been thinking about that too. I think the Veil is almost tuned in to battles at the moment. I used to dream of walking through the yellow mist of the Veil into the sea or the desert or something and once I even dreamed I was stuck in the middle of a rock. That was horrible. But now I mainly dream of battles, all kinds of battles. One was in space. I don’t think it’s even happened yet. I mean, well you know what I mean. But we were at Hastings, right? I think Rhonwen was chasing a dream of the Norman army. They would have helped Macsen, even the Saxons would be useful here.’
‘What, you mean she got the time wrong?’
‘Yeah, not by so much either when you think of it.’
‘More than 900 years!’
‘Well, yes, whatever, but …’
‘And you think you can do better than that?’
‘Yes. I know what I’m looking for. Rhonwen was just looking for an army. I’m looking for the ninth legion in … when?’
‘Around AD 110 I think. I don’t know. I can’t remember.’
‘Near enough.’
Dan could tell by the look in Ursula’s green eyes that this was not a fight he could win.
‘But Ursula, if we have gone back in time the ninth legion might already be here.’ There was a pause as Ursula weighed the thought.
‘I don’t think we have gone back in time, Dan. This is not our earth. It doesn’t feel like it. I never felt magic pour through me on our earth. You weren’t, you know, berserk on our earth were you? I know that I’m supposed to find the ninth and bring it here. I just know I am.’ Ursula’s face was contorted into a mask of obstinacy. Dan thought she was quite as mad as he had ever been. He knew better than to argue with her.
‘Promise me you won’t try this alone.’
‘You sound like one of those kids’ programmes. “And remember children don’t try this at home, be sure to get an adult to help you.” ’ They both laughed, not because it was particularly funny but because they needed to break the tension somehow.
They were riding through the valley that ended in the steep cliffs of Craigwen. Both of them were surprised to find that it felt like coming home. It was much later that Dan realised that Ursula hadn’t promised anything.
Chapter Twenty-five
Macsen wasted no time in holding a Council of War with Kai and the other tribal leaders. As Taliesin had anticipated, Cadal had already left to take advantage of calm seas. Queen Usca, Macsen’s formidable grandmother, had gone too. The bard lost no time in sending messages to Cadal confirming Rhonwen’s marriage oath. As Rhonwen showed no symptom of being a happy bride, Cadal may have feared that she might change her mind with disastrous consequences for the alliance. Gwyn and Prys turned the fortress upside down in search of evidence of further plotting against the King. Their methods were not always gentle and anyone who had not actually hated Huw was interrogated. It was a small enough number. They found nothing. They discovered no hint of treachery in the fortress. Every man avowed total loyalty to Macsen. They put a trusted guard on the food stores, well and armoury.
Dan and Ursula were invited to attend the War Council. Macsen urged Ursula to adopt the dress of a priestess and wear the flowing robes favoured by Rhonwen. He said it would help inspire the confidence of his allies. It took all the persuasive skills of Kai, Bryn, Dan and the bard, but in the end she accepted the deep violet-blue cloak and the rich red dress that was offered her. Her hair had grown anyway in her months as a warrior, but she augmented it a little with shape-shifter magic, so that it hung to her waist like a pale blonde curtain in the manner of Rhonwen’s. Bryn was impressed.
‘You look like a real woman.’
‘I am a real woman, you stupid squire.’ But her smile was warm. You could rely on a kind of honesty from the eight year old. It helped.
Nothing helped the Council of War. The men were grim and, in spite of her careful preparations, Macsen gave Ursula only the most cursory of glances and carried on talking. In front of him was a three-dimensional map made of clay.
‘My plan would have been to have Lud’s men hidden here, in the wood above the valley. We could have waited for the Ravens to get settled in the va
lley, start building their siege engines, set up their ballista for an assault on the walls, their usual tricks. Then, probably at night, we would swarm out of the castle and attack from three sides. If I’d had enough men I’d have put some chariots behind too, to deal with any retreat.’
‘It would have made a fine song for Cadal’s bard,’ the Ordovices’ chief, a beefy man with a red face and bristling ginger moustache, interjected. ‘But what is your plan, now Lud has thrown his lot in with the carrion?’
Macsen hesitated and Rhonwen spoke.
‘I see no reason for the plan to change. I will raise the Veil and bring in reinforcements.’
The men glanced at the silver-masked woman with scarcely disguised amusement.
‘And if the Princess’ plan yields only …’ the Ordovices’ chief glanced briefly at Ursula and Dan, ‘more outlanders?’
Dan found his hand on his sword hilt before he could stop himself but Kai’s restraining ham of a hand on his shoulder calmed him.
‘We fight still.’ Macsen’s voice remained firm, commanding. ‘We allow the siege to begin. We make life difficult. We corrupt their water and food; encourage pestilence; weaken the troops. We spread rumours of the power of our sorceresses. Show them a few tricks, weaken morale, make them afraid. Then we attack at night, kill as many as we can and …’
‘Die,’ finished the Ordovices’ chief. There was silence. The men of the tribes looked at each other and at the clay model in front of them. The pause went on for a long time.
‘It is a good plan.’ There were nods of assent.
‘I’ll drink to that.’
Macsen allowed himself a terse smile. Dan breathed again. Ursula was right. The Combrogi had more honour than sense, but Dan had a lump in his throat. He felt proud to be accepted by such brave, obdurate people.
The tribal leaders and everyone else proceeded to drink gargantuan quantities of ale, consume a small herd of cattle and sing of past victories through most of the night. If they had only a few days left of life they were not going to waste them in sleep. Macsen’s plan did not require that they husband their stored food and it was a shame to waste it or leave it for the enemy. In between times they honed their blades to bone-slicing sharpness, oiled their leather breastplates and overhauled their shields. Many limed their hair and generally readied themselves. Caradoc informed them that the enemy troops were massing. They would be at their gates within the day. The Combrogi had decorated the battlements with the spiked heads of the Ravens they had killed in the fireside battle. The head of the man Ursula had killed was among them. She could not look at it.