“Don’t get caught,” Lucius said with a smirk. “You volunteered to be a hostage. Make the most of it. Find out what you can.”
Decimus almost wagged his head off. “I don’t like this. Marcellus shouldn’t be seducing the king’s daughter. By the looks of her, she may still be a prepubescent girl.”
“She’s older than that,” Marcellus said. “But I agree with you. I don’t feel right about taking her for political reasons.”
“At least you can have some pleasure,” Lucius sneered. “Think of it this way, you are doing your duty for Rome by finding out why Amren and Marrock are at each other’s throats.”
Decimus stepped to the table across from Lucius and leaned forward. “Catrin is not a whore. She may be a priestess like one of Rome’s vestal virgins. She must possess some mystical power for her to assist in the ritual. It was she who proclaimed that Apollo would favor all decisions made at our meeting today. The raven—”
Lucius interrupted. “Get to your point.”
Decimus swallowed hard. “The raven may give her god-like powers from Apollo.”
Marcellus blurted, “That is utter nonsense!”
Lucius pressed his lips together, as if repressing a chuckle. “The trouble with you, Decimus, is that you’re ruled by superstitions despite your brilliant command of seasoned soldiers.”
The tribune’s face colored bright red. “I sacrifice to the gods, the same as my ancestors. I make offerings to them to retain their favor. Do not bring the wrath of Apollo down on us for defiling his priestess. The gods—Mars, Apollo, Jupiter—fated Rome to rule the world and crush its enemies. It is no accident that the Druidess declared Catrin as Apollo’s oracle.”
The chamber quieted like a temple. Lucius regarded Decimus for a moment, then stood, stepped heavily around the table and placed a hand on the tribune’s shoulder.
“Forgive me, Decimus. I did not mean to insult you. I, too, honor the gods and pay homage to Apollo. I believe the king ordered the Druidess to proclaim his daughter as Apollo’s oracle, so he could assuage his people who were ready to riot. Nonetheless, I agree with you. Marcellus should be cautious when dealing with Amren’s daughter. There are perhaps other ways he can get the information.”
His father’s concession to Decimus surprised Marcellus. Their friendship must be deeper and more abiding than what he had thought.
“Enough said.” Decimus pulled away. “What are our next steps for speaking with Cunobelin and Marrock?”
“Arrange separate meetings with Cunobelin and Marrock where I can speak with each privately,” Lucius said. “I want to know where each of them stands with Rome. Are they willing to pledge their fealty as client kings, to supply our legions with their warriors, and to sell their captives as slaves to us? Would they go as far as giving no armed resistance to a Roman invasion in exchange for filling their coffers with coins and offering them political influence as client kings to the empire? I have dealt with Cunobelin before, but Marrock is a mystery. Tell me what he is like.”
Decimus rubbed the crescent scar below his eye. “Well, he does have more facial scars than me, but not from battle. It is as if chucks of his tissue were gouged out of his face. I was told he was attacked by wild beasts and left to die.”
Marcellus turned to his father. “Why is Rome so adamant about recognizing Marrock’s claims, if Amren refuses to take him back?”
“Marrock might be more willing to cooperate with us to invade Britannia if we help him overthrow his father,” Lucius said.
Marcellus considered what his father said for a moment. “What I don’t understand is why Tiberius supports your plan to invade Britannia. He has proclaimed that he will not expand the empire.”
“This is a highly guarded secret,” Lucius said, emphasizing each word. “I must prove to Tiberius that it is in the empire’s best interests to conquer Britannia. There is wealth to be mined here—gold, silver, tin. If I can convince the emperor, this would elevate my political standing. I could be appointed as governor of Britannia or another province. This is my time to rewrite the legacy of the Antonius family name. If Mark Antony had been emperor of Rome and not Augustus, our family legacy would have been different. My father, Iullus, would not have been forced to fall on his sword for having an affair with the daughter of Augustus. I wouldn’t have been banished to Gaul for more than fifteen years for what my father did. I have been given the opportunity to reclaim my great heritage.” Lucius shifted his eyes to Marcellus. “This could also be your legacy, my son.”
A soldier’s voice from outside yelled, “We are here to escort Marcellus!”
Decimus pulled a dagger from his belt and handed it to Marcellus. “Keep this hidden in your tunic. Take votives to give as offerings to Apollo, so he will protect you. Remember, Celtic warriors are mad for war and do not fear death. To gain their respect, you must not show them any weakness.”
Morbid images whirled into Marcellus’s head of what could happen to him: torture, execution, beheading, or hanging. What had he gotten himself into?
Decimus clicked his boot heels together and saluted. “Senator, I believe we are in agreement that some of my soldiers will hide near the village, so they can keep an eye on Marcellus. If you would excuse me, I will assign these men and give them further instructions.”
Lucius nodded. “Go ahead.”
After Decimus left the tent, Lucius surprised Marcellus with a warm embrace. “Pay no attention to what Decimus said. As I said earlier, do whatever you must to pry out information from Catrin.”
Marcellus gave his father a befuddled look, thinking the issue had been settled that he would not seduce Catrin. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
The corner of Lucius’s mouth twitched into a sly smile. “I think you understand my meaning.”
Marcellus shook his head. “What about Decimus’s warning that I should not defile Catrin?”
“We both know that Decimus can sometimes be irrational with his beliefs. I respect him for his military intelligence, but the only reason I tolerate his superstitions is to keep his loyalty. I am secretly asking you to get information from Catrin by any means. If that means bedding her, do it!”
Marcellus shook his head with disbelief. “How can I do this after you bemoaned what happened to you when your father committed adultery.”
“There is a big difference here. Julia was the emperor’s married daughter. Catrin is a barbarian whore who you can use as you please.”
Marcellus retorted, “She is the king’s daughter!”
Lucius shot a piercing scowl. “Enough of your belligerence! If you won’t obey me on this, I will banish you to the Roman Legion as a common soldier. Then you’ll learn how to obey! Do I make myself clear?”
Marcellus glared. “Understood.”
Lucius placed a hand on Marcellus’s shoulder. “You have always had the wild nature of Mark Antony. Think … Don’t get caught in bed with the king’s daughter. Your mother would never forgive me if you didn’t return home.”
Marcellus stepped to within inches of his father’s face. “Don’t worry, I won’t get caught.”
13
First Encounter
She realized then, the raven had for the first time entered her mind and changed how she perceived the world.
After washing for the evening’s festivities, Catrin dressed in a pine green gown that dragged behind her like a pheasant tail. The front-lace leather bodice was as tight as a sausage skin over her bust. Awkward in the garment, she almost fell on her face because of tripping over her skirt. She looked around her windowless, musty bedchamber now converted to a makeshift cell with a bolted door.
Marcellus would soon arrive and sleep in her quarters.
Heart aflutter, she dusted the oak table and set a glass jar of lavender-scented oil down to refresh the stale air. Her father’s instructions to b
eguile the young Roman weighed heavily on her. She was a warrior. What did she know about plucking a man’s strings to gain more information?
Most of all, she dreaded sharing a cramped bed with Mor, who was now yelling from the next room.
“What’s taking you so long? Get in here, so I can comb your hair.”
Lifting the heavy skirt, Catrin bustled into her sister’s bedchamber where she was sitting on the edge of the bed and plaiting her hair. Mor turned and arched her eyebrows. “Why are you in such a dour mood?”
Seating herself on the bed’s edge, Catrin said, “I was thinking about what happened today and the upcoming parley between Father, the Romans and Cunobelin.”
“Me, too,” Mor said, pinning the braid on top of her head. “What did Father say to you after today’s meeting with the Romans?”
“He confronted me about overstepping his authority.” Catrin hesitated, not sure how much more to confide to Mor who had a reputation for spreading gossip. “I told Father that I saw an omen that something bad would happen to our kingdom. Then I confessed that I had learned how to use the raven’s magic. He told me that Agrona needed to train me on how to control its mystical powers.”
“I’m surprised he agreed,” Mor said with a bite to her voice. “Nobody else in our family is allowed to use these forces. I don’t understand why he wants Agrona to train you. Mother detests her. There are other more agreeable Druids he could use instead.”
Catrin frowned. “Did you tell Father about my raven casting evil spells on me?”
“I didn’t say that.” Mor nervously cleared her throat. “I said that you were acting oddly around that bird.”
“Why did you have to say anything?”
Mor twisted some loose strands of hair around her forehead into curls. “Then explain what happened earlier when your raven flew into the chamber like a ghoul and scared everyone. Why would Agrona declare you some kind of prophetess who can speak directly to the sun god? I heard you ate a ram’s eyeball after the raven had its share. Is that not ominous, don’t you think?”
Catrin knew Mor was right. Melding with the raven’s mind had become more bewildering, even frightening. She did not want to admit this to Mor. “Agrona used that as a trick to appease the people who were ready to revolt over the Roman demands.”
Mor coughed into her hand and pointed to the shelf where she stored her personal belongings. “Get me something over there to comb your hair.”
Catrin retrieved a bone-toothed comb and handed it to Mor, who then mercilessly raked a tangle the size of a bird’s nest out of her hair.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t whine,” Mor scolded. “What do you expect with such thick hair?”
“Not this abuse. Are you angry at me?”
“Not in the least,” Mor snapped.
After another handful of hair ripped from her scalp, Catrin grabbed Mor’s hand. “Stop it! You must be mad at me.”
Mor’s eyes blazed. “Why did Father take you into the meeting with the Romans and assign you guard duty over the senator’s son? He usually asks Belinus or me to do that.”
Taken aback, Catrin said, “I don’t always understand his decisions.”
“Did he ask you about Belinus and me?”
“No. Not a word.”
“I think he suspects we are lovers.”
Catrin regarded Mor for a moment. “I don’t think so. Besides, if you were honest about your relationship with Belinus, he might grant your wish to marry him. I doubt Father would force you to wed Cunobelin’s son, especially after what happened today.”
“I think Father would do anything to reach a truce with Cunobelin,” Mor said bitterly. “And that includes marrying me off to Adminius in exchange for Marrock’s head.”
Catrin pursed her lips.“Father has also asked me to do something I do not feel right about.”
Mor raised her brow in curiosity. “What is that?”
“He wants me to charm the Roman hostage into revealing Rome’s true intent for our kingdom. There is no honor in extending a hand in friendship and then turning around and taking it away.”
“Silly girl,” Mor mocked. “That young foreigner is from an empire that crushes weaker kingdoms under their legions.”
“I’m not stupid,” Catrin snapped. “I understand all that.”
“Well, at least you don’t look like a scruffy boy tonight.” Mor chuckled. “I see breasts peeking out of your dress.”
Catrin looked down at her bodice and blushed as she adjusted it. “Is that better?”
Mor smirked.
Catrin picked up a polished bronze mirror and brightened at seeing her noble transformation. Thin braids tied with leather straps were now blended into her loose hair. The open square front of her dress revealed the upper curvature of her small breasts. Her belly tingled as she imagined Marcellus touching her there.
Why would I think about that?
She set the mirror aside, trying to calm her unsettled stomach.
I should sweep these thoughts out of my head.
Catrin turned her attention to Mor, who was squeezing herself into a low-cut dress. As Mor dabbed lavender scented oil on her wrists, she smiled sweetly at Catrin.
“Would you do me a favor?”
Catrin eyed her suspiciously. “What is that?”
Mor beamed. “I’m going to spend the night with Belinus, but you can’t say a word to Mother.”
“And what is in it for me?”
Mor hugged Catrin tightly. “I am your sister. Please …please … do this for me.”
Once again the lifetime sibling scheme reared its head. So what other choice did Catrin have? Belinus and Mor always dragged her into their little arrangements. Oh, the joys of sisterhood, she thought, and reluctantly agreed.“I will do it. Besides, Mother seems more distant after I met with Father earlier.”
Mor flicked her wrist. “Don’t be a ruffled goose. She treats everyone the same. Oh, by the way, I overheard her argue with Father about his plans for you.”
“What plans?”
“Mother does not want Agrona training you. She doesn’t trust the Druidess or her black magic. Further, she doesn’t want you guarding that handsome Roman.”
Annoyed, Catrin frowned at Mor. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Your foul mood bothered me.”
“You are —” Catrin’s words were cut off by a shrieking meeoooowww and a loud thump. Men speaking Latin could be heard outside their chamber. The door from the next room opened then slammed shut. A man’s voice groaned, “Not even a candle to light up this forsaken place.” Then a metal clank rang through the thin wooden wall.
Catrin nervously glanced at Mor. “Who do you think is in my bedchamber?”
Mor whispered, “I’m not sure, but I hear Belinus from the corridor.”
A loud clap startled them. Mor walked to the door and peeked outside. She grinned when Belinus stumbled in. The two lovers embraced. Belinus pushed Mor against the wall and nibbled his way down her neck. Taking her clue, Catrin scurried into the corridor where she was greeted by a rat scampering over her feet. Nearby, she saw a one-eyed cat stalking its vermin dinner and in a dark corner was her raven, its amber eyes aglow. A frosty breeze swirled around her, and she followed the raven to a barred windowsill where a long-legged spider had trapped a moth in its web.
A light flashed in Catrin’s mind, and she was surprised to see herself as a bird-shaped mist in the corridor’s gloom. From another darkened corner, a sun flare shaped like a horse flamed forth into the image of Marcellus. It was as if the raven had entered her mind and transported her to another dimension. She heard Marcellus clear his throat loudly. Frozen and locked in the raven’s mind, she couldn’t answer.
Then, a very real Marcellus moved closer and whispered, “Catrin.”
&nb
sp; A tingle burned through Catrin’s belly as she came back to herself. Head spinning, she felt her knees buckle and she collapsed on the wooden floor.
Marcellus leaned over her and offered his hand. She grasped his hand as he helped her up. Unsteady, she wrapped her arms around him. When he held her closer, her knees began quivering. He said softly, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
For a moment, she savored his warmth, but her father’s mandate to find out more information from him leapt into her mind. She pushed him away.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You seemed to be in a trance.”
Catrin nodded. In truth, her arms were still tingling and her mouth ached from the hard fall. She realized then, the raven had for the first time entered her mind and changed how she perceived the world. This creature’s tricks on her mind were frightening, as more and more of her reality crumbled under the new sensations from the raven’s realm.
The touch of Marcellus’s hand on her arm swept her out of the grim reflection she was losing her mind to the raven. He asked, “You speak Latin, correct?”
She nodded demurely.
“Good. I know I should not ask you, a noble princess, but I couldn’t find any servants to help me,” Marcellus stammered, appearing uneasy. “Would you help me find a candle … a lamp, a torch … anything to light my room?”
Still woozy, Catrin asked him to repeat his question.
Marcellus spoke slowly. “Please help me … find candle … light my room.” He flapped his hands around his eyes like a moth.
Catrin grinned at his funny hand gestures. “Oh, light.”
“Yes, that is right.” Marcellus’s blue eyes brightened to almost a violet color. “I need a candle. A lamp or torch would work.”
Just then, the raven poked its head through a window, flopped down on the wood-plank floor, and shrieked. Marcellus slammed back against the stone wall and cursed. His reaction to the raven amused Catrin. She impulsively grasped his hand and led him down the hallway, the raven waddling behind them.
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