More disturbing, Marrock had more magical abilities than he disclosed to her. Even though Agrona sacrificed everything for him, a chasm was widening between them, particularly after he married Ariene, a preeminent Druidess in her own right.
Now that Agrona’s powers were fading, she further considered how to draw more from Catrin. The raven had only chosen a handful of women before Catrin who could easily travel between the earthly world and the Otherworld. They were warrior queens who fought off Greek invaders. Their spirits were immortalized in the stars as raven goddesses. Their light shone on mortal warriors who died gloriously in battle. Untested, Catrin still needed to complete a series of trials before the gods would deem her worthy to join her ancestral raven goddesses in the heavens.
Perhaps, Agrona thought, I could instead rise as a raven goddess instead of Catrin. But first, she had to find ways to counter Marrock, if he ever turned on her. He was, after all, the son of Amren and inherited some of his displeasing traits.
Thus far, Agrona had failed to channel Catrin’s powers to her vantage. When she was on the verge of controlling Catrin’s mind, the princess somehow blocked her. Even the hallucinogens, monkshood, and hazelnuts no longer seemed to break the princess down. There had to be a way to lure Catrin into her web of deception.
Mind spinning around contingency plans, Agrona dropped the snakes’ cross-barred skins into a cauldron hanging from a metal tripod. The snake skins sizzled and the smoke rising from the ashes reeked of burning skin. Crinkling her nose, she waved her palms over the brass metal pot, chanting, “Let my soul capture the viper’s essence. Strike once. Strike quick. Strike deadly.”
Hearing crackling twigs from the nearby woods, she turned. Marrock appeared in his shape-shifted wolf form under the archway of oak branches. Twice the size of a timber wolf, he viciously snarled and bared his teeth, but she would not abide her son’s truculent behavior. From deep within her throat, she ferociously growled. At the next inhale, she captured Marrock’s bark and gritted her teeth to snuff the sound. She picked up a stick and whacked her son’s canine muzzle.
“Down beast! Or you will regret threatening Rhan.”
The wolf yelped, cowered, and bowed his head on front paws. She waved him off to the woods. “Come back as a man!”
The wolf scooted backward, then slinked past her and retreated to the forest.
Marrock then reappeared as an elongated shadowy man beneath the branched archway. When he swaggered into the crimson light of the rising sun, his monstrous face appeared as a fractured rock with lips petrified in a grotesque smile, his hair spiked into rusty stalagmites. He raised a hand to acknowledge her.
Studying his pitted face, Agrona recalled the time when he was a strapping man of twenty years, his pale skin as unblemished as a newborn lamb. His eyes were a brilliant sea blue-green, the same color as Catrin’s. He towered above all others like a god. That was until his curse-altering sojourn with Catrin in the woods. Thankfully, today promised to be a warm summer day. On cold nights, his moon-cratered scars tormented him with relentless pain that put him into an uglier mood.
“What took you so long?” Agrona asked with a scowl. “I expected you at midnight.”
Not answering, Marrock stepped over to the cauldron and looked inside, sniffing. “What is this awful smell?”
“Snake skins,” Agrona hissed. “Now answer my question.”
Marrock lurched toward her. “I will not parry your flickering tongue.”
Regarding the snarl on his face, Agrona thought it wise to back down and appeal to his arrogance. Only then could she spin a web around him, so he would do her bidding. She bowed humbly. “Accept my apologies. I spoke in haste, anxious to learn of Senator Antonius’s reaction to Rhiannon’s threat to sacrifice Marcellus to the war goddesses.”
Marrock curled his upper lip into a sneer. “My father’s face flamed like a fire when he read the bitch queen’s message aloud to the senator.”
Agrona chuckled with sordid delight. “How does Amren now fare?”
“Not nearly as well after the senator confronted him with his queen’s threat to cut Marcellus’s heart out. The timing of the queen’s letter was most fortunate. Cunobelin and Father were jointly announcing, at a gathering of Catuvellauni nobles, that they had negotiated a marital contract for Adminius to wed Catrin. To my dismay, Cunobelin shamed me by proclaiming that he had withdrawn his support for my claims to the Cantiaci throne.”
Agrona winced when Marrock spat into the hot cauldron. The sputum burst into droplets that hissed and skittered over the metal. He stared vacantly at the eastern horizon, the morning light making his face glow like a blood moon. He said with a bitter bite to his voice, “Most insulting, my worm of a father-in-law proclaimed, ‘the great King Amren graciously agrees to share his sovereignty with Adminius as part of this pact.’”
Agrona gently touched a deep scar on Marrock’s face. “Both kings are spineless and slimy maggots that feed off each other.”
“Of course,” Marrock said, one side of his lips contorting into a half-smile, “that all changed when the senator and his contingency of soldiers stormed into the receiving chamber and accosted my father. The senator read the bitch queen’s message to everyone and slapped the rolled parchment across Father’s nose, as though he was a little boy. The Senator demanded to know why Father could not control his queen. He then went on a rampage of words so vile that I dare not say them aloud. Lucius concluded by saying that he had generously housed the king in the Roman encampment while arbitrating a just settlement between the Celtic rulers. Of course, Father’s mouth was open in shock, as if lightning struck him. Cunobelin and his dogs ran out of the chamber like the cowards they are. Only I and Ariene had the courage to remain.”
Agrona arched an eyebrow, suspecting her son was embellishing the story. Her dubious expression must have caught his eye because he bristled and said sharply, “Everything I have said is true.”
“Of course,” she quickly replied, knowing how easily his temper could flare. “I never thought otherwise. Go ahead, finish your tale.”
Marrock stared at Agrona for a moment and then relaxed into his story. “Despite my father’s protests, the senator ordered his guards to shackle him like a common criminal that he is. King Amren was brought to his knees, where he belonged. He groveled and begged to be released, so he could look into the matter. The senator’s guards dragged him away like the beast he is.”
Marrock chuckled with evil delight. “Later that night, I overheard some soldiers say the king was hung upside down with a rope and carved away like a piece of butchered meat. I thought to myself, ‘Good. Nothing gives me greater joy than for the almighty king to meet his death by torture.’ A little later, I learned from Cunobelin that the senator decided to spare Father. The senator feared the final act would doom his son, Marcellus. I thought at first the gods had played a cruel trick on me. But upon further reflection, I accepted my fate to fulfill your curse and behead my father instead.”
Agrona’s stomach tickled with wicked mirth. “Marvelously done, my king—to trick that imposter queen into believing the senator had written the message, never suspecting it was you. How were you able to borrow the senator’s signet ring to seal the message without him noticing?”
Marrock drew a small knife from his belt to dig out black muck underneath his curled fingernails. “I am a sorcerer of deception. The senator placed his confidence in me like a son. He told me to call him by his first name, Lucius. I told him that I worshipped his patron god, Apollo, and requested to see the insignia on his family ring. He took it off and proudly showed it to me. When another Roman diplomat entered the headquarters, the king set the ring on the table and rose to speak with the other dignitary. With the diversion, I stole the ring.”
“How did you know the envoy would enter at that time?” Agrona asked.
Marrock wiped the knife’s blade on h
is tunic and picked at a bleeding hangnail. “Romans are like trained dogs. They need a daily routine. Eat at dawn, shit after breakfast, and bark at each other throughout the morning. Every time Lucius gaped at my raven-sculptured face during one of our amiable chats, another Roman always appeared. He would then excuse himself. If it weren’t for my face, I believe he would have genuinely enjoyed my company. I can converse in Latin as eloquently as any Roman.”
Agrona could no longer contain her smirk that any Roman could abide her son’s company.
Marrock glared. “Do you find me amusing? Do not make the mistake of mocking me.”
Agrona humbly lowered her eyes. “I would never do that. I think of you as a sly wolf that dines on hapless sheep.”
Marrock smiled. “I did win the senator’s complete confidence. I told him that I was educated in Roman traditions and consider myself more Roman than the barbarians in Britannia. I promised him that I would do his bidding as client king.”
“What about the marital pact that Cunobelin and Amren negotiated?”
Marrock laughed. “It is a dead fish out of water.”
“You are so clever, my king,” Agrona cooed.
Marrock gave a broad grin while lifting his shirt to rub his belly. “Do you have anything else to eat besides those snake skins?”
Agrona nodded. She then retrieved a linen bag set against a giant oak and sat next to Marrock on a fallen tree. She pulled out moldy white cheese from the bag and offered it to him. He bit off some cheese and washed it down with ale from an animal pouch. He looked at Agrona.
“Do you have any meat?”
She handed him some salted pork rinds that he gobbled down. He moaned with delight, “Mmmm … better than snake skins,” and let out a couple of belches, his raw breath making Agrona recoil. She gave him an appalled look.
Marrock did not appear to be bothered by her reaction as he casually remarked, “When I visited you in my wolf form a fortnight ago, I was surprised to see Catrin’s beauty.”
Agrona shifted uncomfortably under Marrock’s piercing stare as he continued, “I found it odd that I fell asleep when you performed the ritual on Catrin. When I awoke, all I could feel was unadulterated hate for the wench after dreaming her black-feathered friends pecked out my eyes. By the way, how does she and her odious raven fare?”
Agrona gulped the ale in her mouth. “Stubborn as a rock.”
“Have you entered her mind yet?”
Agrona gave Marrock a steely look. You fool. Your failure to transform Catrin into a wolf altered my curse. She nevertheless kept a straight face to hide her anger, so she could use him to carry out the curse and slay Amren.
“Answer me!” Marrock demanded. “Could you see Catrin’s thoughts that night when I was with you in my wolf form?”
“I saw her vision of fire-breathing eagles destroying Durovernum.”
“Does Catrin know what the eagles represent?”
Agrona shrugged. “She never said.”
“I know what it means,” Marrock haughtily proclaimed. “Eagles represent Romans. They will help me overthrow Father’s kingdom as you fated in your curse.”
“What makes you think the eagles symbolize the Romans?” asked Agrona.
“Look at their eagle standards. Surely, the raven revealed to Catrin that it is my destiny to become king of the Cantiaci. Did she see me in her vision?”
Agrona nervously scratched her chin as she closely regarded Marrock’s eyes probing her for the truth like a scalpel. She finally admitted, “I saw you slit the throats of two children and transform them into wolves. You were about to do the same to Catrin, but the ravens attacked you and she escaped. Your failure to transform Catrin into a wolf altered the curse.”
Marrock jerked his head back in anger. “We have already been through this. I did nothing to change the curse. You cast the curse; you fix it. I have thus far lived up to what the original curse foretold. My only purpose now is to lop off my father’s head as you foresaw!”
Agrona lowered her eyes to avoid a confrontation. “I did see another vision that you should be aware of. Marcellus descends in a chariot like a sun god and rescues Catrin from the firestorm on the village.”
Marrock’s eyebrows perked up. “Marcellus, the senator’s son?”
“Yes, you might say their love was born out of a curse,” she quipped.
He mimicked a cut to his throat with a hand. “Why don’t you just kill the wench for ordering her ravens to peck out chunks of my face and leave me for dead to drown in my own blood? That would be sweet justice, don’t you think. I could cut her up and feed the pieces to her raven companions.”
Agrona patted his arm. “Calm yourself. Remember, we still need Catrin to fulfill the curse.”
Marrock pulled away. “No, we don’t.”
Agrona shrugged. “My original curse did say she would fly out as a raven and join you. Now the curse says she will fly out of Apollo’s flames as a raven with the powers of the Ancient Druids.”
Marrock unsheathed a dagger from his belt and extended it at Agrona. “She will fly out and meet my blade! So will you, if you do not drop the subject.”
Lips quivering, Agrona gaped at the glimmering blade. “Forgive me, son. You are right. You must keep your eyes fixed on your destiny like a north star. We must now focus all our efforts on assuring the Romans support you. Two days ago, an opportunity presented itself that I should tell you. Rhiannon left the village, so she could plea for the Regni king’s support if war breaks out. She left me in charge of everyday activities while she was gone. My next command will be to sentence Marcellus to death for defiling Catrin. Surely this horrendous act will force the senator’s hand to ally with you and to destroy the king and his family. We must hurry, though, as it will only be a matter of time before the queen discovers the senator’s mandate was a fake.”
Marrock grumbled, “What can that idiot whore and her lover, Trystan, do to us?”
“Probably nothing,” Agrona replied. “But I must make sure Marcellus meets a most horrible death to incite the senator’s fury against Rhiannon.”
“Will the people from the village follow your command?”
“After I announce the Romans slaughtered the king, the warriors will gladly paint their bodies with Marcellus’s blood. Your task is to make sure Amren dies. Can you do that and fulfill that part of the curse?”
“You know I can.” Marrock’s brow lifted. “What about Catrin? The raven did reveal a different fate for her than what you foretold in the original curse.”
Agrona did not answer, wondering how she could break Catrin down and travel to the Wall of Lives, so she could gain more powers from the Otherworld.
Marrock tapped her on the shoulder and asked again, “What do you plan to do with Catrin?”
“For now, I will keep her as a prisoner.” Agrona stared at Marrock. “You must stay the course on your pathway to greatness. Continue your masquerade of allying with both the Romans and Cunobelin, so they will help you bring Amren down. Afterward, you can avenge Cunobelin for his treachery. As for the Romans, I saw a golden eagle fly out to sea and never return. This is a sign they will leave our homeland after they help you overthrow your father.”
Marrock rose from the log and placed the dagger in his belt. “Again, I ask, how will you counter Catrin’s vision that she will be rescued by Marcellus?”
Agrona quickly conjured a prophecy to assuage Marrock’s concerns. She stood and tilted her head back to look into his eyes. “Oh! I almost forgot. The other night, I dreamt that Catrin fell out of the chariot as Marcellus drove the horses over the white cliffs. Just before she smashed on the jagged rocks, you transformed her into a silver wolf. This is a sign that Marcellus will abandon Catrin, so she can join your wolf pack and mate with you.”
Marrock squinted at Agrona as if he did not quite believe what she had s
aid. She placed a hand on his chest to reassure him. “I have put everything in place for you. You are the legitimate king. Go forth and claim what is rightfully yours.”
And what will ultimately be mine.
39
Clandestine Meeting
This was a bad omen that the clandestine meeting she had set up with the senator might be a trap.
The ride to Camulodunon was long and hard. For two days and nights, Rhiannon had galloped incognito alongside her trusted guards, Trystan and Cynwrig. The diversion through Regni lands doubled the distance, but the rapid pace of their horses across estuary marshlands, dense forests, and rolling farmlands made up for lost time.
The queen rode with one objective in mind—win Amren’s release.
In retrospect, she should have heeded Marcellus’s warning that traitors within her circle had most likely forged Senator Lucius Antonius’s letter that said Amren was imprisoned, but what reason did she have to believe Marcellus was telling the truth? As far as she was concerned, he was a scoundrel who had deflowered her daughter to gratify his lust. Only after he gave Catrin the Apollo amulet did she go raving mad, as if she was cursed with the god’s evil spirits.
Rhiannon’s anger did not stop with Marcellus. She wanted to banish Catrin for recklessly sleeping with the Roman enemy and betraying her family. The queen wasn’t sure who to trust now. Certainly, she could count on the loyalty of the two guards riding beside her. Mor and Belinus were trustworthy, but she questioned their judgment. The Druidess concerned her. Had she made a mistake, leaving Catrin and Marcellus under Agrona’s charge?
Galloping headlong into enemy territory, Rhiannon grew anxious when blood-red clouds began forming fangs in the molten sunset. This was a bad omen that the clandestine meeting she had set up with the senator might be a trap. She reined her horse to a halt on the wooded hillside east of Camulodunon and waved the men over. She asked Trystan, “Where is the senator’s headquarters from here?”
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