King Arthur: Dragon's Child: Book One (King Arthur Trilogy 1)

by M. K. Hume

  Leaving the cursed room, Artorex waited in the lee of the alder for the wet nurse and Targo to arrive. The night was not yet finished, nor was its bloody aftermath even begun, and he desperately needed the advice of the rugged old campaigner. Artorex had never seen a living soul die so violently, least of all someone he loved, and his head swam in a vortex of emotions.

  Some little time later, a small, pixyish woman from the village hurried out of the shadows with Targo as her escort. She was carrying an infant in a sling around her neck.

  Artorex noted grimly that the warrior was still fully armed.

  Directing the wet nurse to Julanna’s quarters, Artorex instructed her to send Frith to him when the old woman could be spared. Then, flexing his suddenly aching arm, he turned to his old tutor.

  ‘I imagine the messenger told you what occurred tonight?’

  ‘Aye, Artorex, he did. What caused the young master to turn into a madman?’

  Artorex grimaced wolfishly, his eyes suddenly flat and unforgiving. ‘I’ve no idea but I intend to find out. Bring Luka and Myrddion to me from Mistress Gallia’s rooms as soon as they’ve finished with their ministrations. I’ll be with pen Bryn and the young master in his sleeping apartments.’

  ‘Aye, lad. All shall be done as you require.’ Targo gripped Artorex’s shoulder with one hand. The lad’s expression softened for a moment, and something wounded looked out of those glacial eyes. Then Artorex’s mental shield dropped back into place.

  When the steward entered the room where Caius was secured, nothing had changed in the sad tableau, although his foster-brother was no longer weeping. Llanwith pen Bryn leaned casually against the wall as he cleaned his nails with a dagger. His eyes never left the miserable form of Caius.

  ‘Foster-brother!’ Artorex used his most authoritative voice. ‘The time for plain speaking between you and me has arrived.’

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Caius whined.

  ‘Not this time, I’m afraid, foster-brother. Sit up and dry your eyes like a man, and then explain yourself. ’

  Caius reluctantly obeyed. The glint in Artorex’s eyes promised dire consequences if he refused.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault! I never meant to hurt her! Mother stepped in front of my blade. Does she live?’

  ‘No, Caius, don’t treat me like a fool. You’re fully aware that your mother is dead and that it was your hand that guided the blade. If you hadn’t struck her, then you’d have murdered a harmless, pregnant woman in her stead.’

  ‘What will become of me now?’ Caius sobbed.

  ‘Still thinking of yourself,’ Llanwith rumbled, without taking his eyes from the dishevelled form of Caius. The Cymru prince was stiff with revulsion and contempt.

  ‘You’re the father of a daughter, Caius, and your wife is well, in spite of being badly bruised at your hands. Your father is prostrate with grief and the Mistress Gallia is even now in the hands of the physician, Myrddion. Tonight, you have torn apart all that was good in this villa, yet still your thoughts are only for yourself. ’ Artorex fairly spat the last words. Caius thrust his face into his pallet and continued to weep.

  Targo and Luka silently entered the room.

  Artorex had been patient enough for ten men throughout the long evening. He crossed the room to the pallet in two quick strides and dragged Caius up by the hair.

  ‘Stand up and face your guilt, foster-brother. I’m sick of your puling and whining.’ Artorex slapped the face of Caius with such force that the imprint of his hand stood out on the cheek of the young man.

  ‘Your mother has forbidden me to kill you, Caius, but I can hurt you! And I will hurt you very badly, and then I’ll lie to Master Ector without a shred of guilt. Now, I want to know what is maddening you.’

  Caius collapsed as if his legs were made of jelly. ‘They’ll kill me if I so much as hint at their guilt.’

  Artorex laughed drily and pointed to the travellers. Three pairs of cold, contemptuous eyes stared fixedly at Caius. Llanwith spat on Caius’s pallet with contempt.

  ‘I swore an oath to your mother. She forgave you as she lay dying, and she forced me to make a promise to protect you. These gentlemen, however, are not bound by my oath, and they are men of far greater powers than you would believe. They have the authority to punish a matricide in the name of the High King. Do you wish to discover what Uther Pendragon’s law prescribes for any man who kills his mother? The Celts deem matricide as one of the worst murders - unlike the Romans. I’m sure that Luka would be pleased to explain the difference to you. Ector cannot protect you from these men, so you must answer before we lose our self-control.’

  ‘I was angry . . .’

  ‘That’s no excuse!’ the voice of pen Bryn rumbled from his position against the wall. ‘We’re not interested in your feelings. Try again!’

  ‘I’m tired of being second best . . .’

  Llanwith knocked Caius down with a swift blow to the side of the head.

  ‘Second best? You’re the only son of Ector, the lord who owns the Villa Poppinidii,’ Luka said grimly. ‘You’ll rule the villa when your father goes to join his ancestors. You will act like a master - and not like a cur!’

  ‘Artorex is fatherless, and lives on the charity of my father. But everyone at the villa obeys him and not me!’

  Llanwith knocked Caius down again, and he began to bleed from the mouth.

  ‘Have done with excuses! I had a great fondness for your mother.’

  ‘But . . . she listened to Artorex rather than to me,’ Caius wailed and pointed at the steward.

  Artorex made an exclamation of disgust and gave Caius a backhanded slap across his face himself. It effectively ended the sickening whine.

  ‘Jealousy isn’t an excuse for the damage you’ve done, Master Caius,’ the unforgiving voice of Myrddion came from the darkness of the doorway. ‘We’re all aware that you spend little time at Villa Poppinidii and avoid taking part in its affairs. Who deserves the respect of the servants, a young man who spends all his hours carousing with his friends or the steward who controls the destiny of the villa and who works in the fields with the men?’

  ‘The servants don’t care for me . . .’

  ‘They believe that you and your friends are involved with the murder of children,’ Targo declared bluntly as he stepped into the room.

  Caius recoiled and covered his face with his hands. What could be seen of his countenance was bone-white except for the red marks where angry hands had struck him.

  Then, tousled and dishevelled as he was, he lifted his head and faced the accusing eyes of Targo. The expression on his face had all the cunning and slyness of a stoat.

  ‘You can’t prove anything! I’ve been here for days!’

  At that moment, Artorex knew that Caius was guilty of more than matricide, and he felt his gorge rise. What could he do? How could he save Ector? How could any honourable man save Caius from the consequences of his vices and yet retain a semblance of decency for himself ?

  ‘You know nothing of Severinus and my friends,’ Caius blustered, his eyes downcast and shifty. ‘I didn’t kill those children. No! I had nothing to do with them! I’m not a monster!’

  Artorex was revolted by his cringeing foster-brother.

  ‘But we do know that you attacked your pregnant wife’, he said evenly. ‘And we also know that you’re responsible for the death of your mother. Enough! I’m tired of this whole charade, so I’ll hand you over to Llanwith who’ll decide what punishment you will receive for your crimes.’

  Whatever self-justification Caius was about to offer died on his lips as five pairs of eyes bored into him. Llanwith straightened and reached out one huge hand and gripped Caius by the throat. Then, straight-armed, he raised the young master into the air so that his feet kicked feebly and his face began to purple.

  Artorex glared at his foster-brother. ‘I’ve sworn an oath to protect you, but that promise was for those sins committed this night, and this night only.’ He paused. ‘Will y
ou speak now? Raise your hand if you wish to speak.’

  Caius kicked, struggled and slowly strangled. His head bobbed up and down like a child’s toy while his eyes almost popped out of his skull.

  Llanwith tossed him on to his pallet like a piece of dirty rag, and Caius attempted to regain his breath with harsh, ragged gasps.

  ‘The foul acts ascribed to Severinus - and to your own self - are matters we want to discuss immediately,’ Artorex told him. ‘Not only do you have to worry about those of us who are in this room, but you may have to face the wrath of the villagers who, this very night, are mourning the loss of another of their children. Should we be dissatisfied, we intend to hand you over to them for questioning.’

  Even the impassive face of Llanwith pen Bryn looked a little sick at this pronouncement.

  Haltingly, fearfully, Caius told his story. His eyes were shrouded so that Artorex was unsure what motivated his foster-brother.

  ‘Severinus will kill me if he thinks I’ve betrayed him. You must save me!’

  ‘Why must I save you?’ Artorex snapped. His eyes were like grey slate.

  ‘Because he’s a murderer and a pederast - he’s truly an abomination. I fear for my life each time I see him.’ Caius huddled into the very corner of the room, oblivious to the drying blood of his mother that still stained his hands and tunic. He was a study in ugly self-pity, and his judges weren’t convinced that this sudden capitulation was honest or sincere.

  ‘When did you first know that Severinus was a murderer?’ Artorex was implacable.

  ‘Not until it was far too late to remove myself from his influence. You must believe me!’ Caius’s eyes turned from one man to the next, pleading for sympathy and mercy.

  ‘Then you must tell us everything,’ Artorex insisted. ‘And I must warn you that Targo will know if you leave anything out. He’s familiar with some aspects of your activities.’

  ‘I’ve known Severinus and his friends for many years. He seduced me years ago with talk of epicurean manners and the Roman right to rule. By the time I realized that Severinus was a perverted aberration of nature, I was too deeply enmeshed to extricate myself.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Luka asked silkily. ‘Many young boys are seduced but few ally themselves with a murderer.’

  ‘I couldn’t go to my father and tell him what Severinus had done to me.’ Caius blushed with shame and self-disgust and, for a brief moment, Artorex felt a stab of pity. Caius could easily have been a well-born victim and to admit his rape would be to shame himself further.

  Caius’s eyes displayed no emotion. He was no catamite, his tastes ran to young women, as meek and child-like as possible. His rape had convinced Caius that he hated pain - unless he was the person inflicting it. And this twisted and frightened young creature feared Severinus, who recognized the flaw in the boy’s nature and probed that weakness remorselessly until Caius was trapped in a nightmare of his own vices. No matter how fiercely Caius had thrown himself into debauchery, a part of his nature had remained frightened and ashamed.

  Now, sensing that Severinus was under threat, Caius saw a way of saving himself from his friend’s demands and diverting Artorex’s rage at the death of his mother. Caius took pains to cower and beg, although the true core of his nature screamed furiously at his assumed compliance.

  ‘At first, we sacrificed a few sheep at the time of the Lupercal. The sport seemed harmless enough. I felt truly Roman for having taken part in the ancient ritual, for Severinus was always casting doubt on the purity of my Roman blood.’

  The silence in the room was absolute, and Caius schooled his face to appear pathetic.

  ‘Years ago, Severinus and his catamite stole two children from the village. I became aware of it, and I was sickened by what they did. But I had no part in their deaths.’

  ‘It’s just as I told you, Artorex,’ Targo interrupted, spitting on the floor in contempt. ‘He only had the balls to watch.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe what Antiochus did to that girl. It was horrible!’

  ‘Was she attractive?’ Luka asked slyly.

  Caius looked revolted. ‘No, of course not! She was only a child. Severinus gave me the task of burying her body, but I couldn’t even bear to cover her with earth when I unwrapped her corpse.’

  ‘Who removed her hands?’ Luka asked. ‘She was alive when they were hacked off.’

  ‘Antiochus did it,’ Caius whimpered. ‘She wasn’t dead when we unwrapped her. And Antiochus said the bitch would tell her kin in the village if she was allowed to live so he cut off both hands with his short sword. There was nothing I could do to stop him.’

  ‘Yet you left her to bleed to death?’

  ‘No! I stayed with her until she stopped breathing - and then I closed her eyes.’

  ‘What did Antiochus want to do with her hands?’ Artorex asked with sick curiosity.

  ‘He told me that Mistress Severina wanted them for some woman’s charm. I asked no more questions - I didn’t want to know.’ Caius looked at the sickened faces that encircled him and cowered back into the corner of the room. ‘On my mother’s head, Artorex, I was only seventeen. I didn’t know what to do! Who would have believed me if I had spoken out? Please, I don’t rape children!’

  The last howled comment was true, Caius had no need to dissemble. Even Llanwith believed him, and the cold inner part of Caius rejoiced to trace the sickened acceptance in their eyes.

  The need to purge his body filled Artorex’s mouth with a taste of bile. He couldn’t imagine any magical spell that would require the mother of Severinus to use the hands of a girl child. Like Caius, Artorex simply didn’t want to know, and he believed his foster-brother’s excuses - although he knew he was seeking the easy way out of his promise to Livinia.

  ‘What Roman matron could act in such a vile fashion?’

  ‘The mother of Severinus is worse than he is,’ Caius whined.

  ‘And what of the boy?’ Targo asked. ‘Did you take turns to pleasure yourselves with him?’

  Caius was genuinely revolted. ‘I never knew what happened to the boy until later. I threatened to tell my father, but Severinus reminded me that I had assisted in the disposal of the dead girl’s body and I’d be judged guilty of the same crimes as he was.’ Caius hesitated briefly. ‘Every time Severinus takes his entertainment, I become ill with apprehension. He insists that I watch until I am sick, and then he allows me to take my leave. I’m kept fully in his power.’ Caius was almost telling the truth.

  ‘But your fears don’t explain what happened tonight,’ Artorex reminded Caius.

  ‘I know that Severinus has taken another boy,’ Caius whispered softly. ‘He sent word that I was required tonight to attend his “feast”, as he calls it, and that no excuses would be accepted. I tried to send a message that we had visitors at the villa, but Severinus didn’t care. During our meal tonight, I had to endure the thought of what he would do to me because of my absence from his entertainment, and I was frantic with terror.’

  Caius genuinely hungered to be free of Severinus and his friends. The Roman was drunk with his diseased pleasures and was taking greater and more unacceptable risks. Sooner or later, Severinus would be caught, and the justice meted out would be cruel and swift. Caius was, in truth, sick with apprehension that he would be caught up in the destruction of the Severinii family.

  Now he saw a way out of the trap he had devised for himself so he kept talking.

  ‘I just snapped when Julanna tried to stop me, and whined on and on that I loved my friends more than I loved her. I hate Severinus! I hate him! I wish he were dead so that I can once again become free. As Julanna nagged on and on, all I could think of was how I had to get away. But she set up such a crying and keening that I lost control of my senses - and I tried to shut her up.’

  ‘Your feeble explanation is very convenient,’ Luka commented, his face twisted with disgust.

  ‘Severinus took an intaglio ring from me some time ago in payment of a debt. It is a j
ewel that could easily be recognized as my property, and he swore to leave it with one of the corpses if I didn’t do exactly as he ordered. He terrifies me - even more than you do!’ Caius’s eyes darted from one unforgiving face to another. His cold, inner self hunted desperately for the words that might exonerate him from his manifold sins.

  ‘Your friend is a brave man when it comes to killing children,’ Artorex murmured sardonically. ‘I wonder if his courage will stand by him when he is faced by men?’

  ‘You can’t confront him,’ Caius panted. ‘It would be the death of me.’

  ‘I think we can, you know,’ the baritone voice of pen Bryn stated coldly. ‘Where is this Severinus? I have a sudden desire to meet him.’

  ‘You must tell us, Caius,’ Luka added. ‘For, if necessary, we’ll use means that you won’t enjoy to force the answers out of you.’

  As his eyes darted around the chamber, Caius realized that he had no choice but to comply, and information began to spill from his lips.

  ‘He has a crypt, an underground room that he has devoted to Dionysus and other older and darker gods. He keeps the children there for the rituals, because he believes their suffering will make him stronger.’

  ‘How do we find this crypt?’ Artorex asked, his face carefully masked to hide his loathing.

  ‘There’s a trap door in the mosaic floor in his scriptorium at the Villa Severinii. The entrance is hidden under a floor rug with a large eye woven into it. He says it is the orb of the black god.’

  ‘Your association with Severinus is about to come to an abrupt end, one way or another’, Artorex said. ‘Your father will never have cause to be ashamed of your actions and I predict you will soon become interested in Ector’s affairs, as a good son should. No, don’t argue, Caius, for you have no bargaining power left to you. You will stay here in your rooms with your wife and new daughter, and you’ll consider earnestly how you intend to live so that your mother’s shade will find peace. You can leave the rest to me.’ Artorex smiled thinly. ‘From this day on, Frith will be watchful in case you should ever decide to take your bad temper out on your wife and child. She will ensure that several stout servants will be on call if you are stupid enough to ever use your fists again.’