Dye seemed not to notice his distress. ‘We Catuvellauni must stand together.’ Putting his hand on Max’s shoulder he continued in more hushed tones. ‘Hard times offer opportunities for men with courage. Rome grows feebler by the day. We Catuvellauni must rise again!’ Dye laughed a harsh, discordant tone. ‘To a new Catuvellaunian empire! That might make Father happy. Nothing else seems to.’
This tribal pride was new. Calista’s influence, no doubt. Before Max could question him Dye threw back his head and laughed. ‘Enough politics. Come, give Calista your birthday greetings.’
‘There’s another who would greet him first.’ Beside him his friend Salvius laughed that carefree laugh Max loved so much. For all Salvius’s deep faith, rivers of joy flowed through him. He was grinning now, wiggling his dark eyebrows. Max felt himself engulfed in a joyful embrace, which he returned. The handsome, dark skinned youth was his most loyal ally. ‘I’ll send your brother along to your wife shortly, Dye. Let me talk to the Prodigal for a while.’ Together they watched Dye weave his drunken way back to his wife. ‘Your brother Dionysius is well named for the god of wine, Max. He drinks like a Frankish pirate. He seems happy enough to see you back though.’
Max contented himself with an equivocal grunt.
Reaching Calista, Dye turned. Saluting Max drunkenly, his outstretched arm knocked the elbow of a slave pouring from an amphora into Calista’s waiting goblet. Wine rushed to the floor. Instantly Dye’s face became a dark scowl and the young slave fell to his knees, raising his arm to protect himself as blows began to rain down on him. Max heard the slave’s pathetic pleading. ‘Have pity, dominus!’ Still the furious strikes hammered down, beating the lad mercilessly. Dye seemed possessed.
Finally the slave’s own anger emerged and he uttered a word which brought a hush on the assembly. ‘Ambrustus’. Scalded One.
Dye stiffened, the flickering torchlight catching the very scar the slave had mocked. It covered the whole left side of his face, the skin puckered from brow to his mouth. Instantly Max’s thoughts flashed back to that night in their childhood, to Dye’s screams as the scorching fire consumed his flesh. He would never forgive himself. He should have saved him.
Seeing Max’s reaction Salvius lowered his voice. ‘How much longer will you punish yourself for Dye’s accident, Max?’ Amongst his many talents Salvius was also a mind reader. ‘You tried to reach him that night, to stop him falling, yet you still think your guilt as obvious as the scar on Dye’s face. Show yourself some mercy. Dye has been let away with murder ever since the accident happened.’ Max acknowledged the truth. Everywhere he went Dye’s scars brought him sympathy. His character was marked by that as much as by the wound itself.
Dye had begun beating the slave anew. ‘Felix, bring me a whip!’
Calmly Calista put out a restraining arm. ‘Dionysius! Cease this instant! Harm the brute and we won’t get our money back. I’ll have the trader horsewhipped instead. He should have told us of the beast’s temper.’ Turning to Felix she gave a swift order. ‘Have the boy placed in the furcifer. Let him carry its oak weight for three days so that the other slaves take warning.’ Turning to the boy she hissed, ‘Be glad I’m not adding a lashing to your punishment. You’ll be sold on by the end of the week.’
Felix rushed forward, together with his young son Aurelianus. Briefly Max’s eyes met with theirs. The furcifer was a terrible punishment. But there was no appeal in Felix’s eyes. He knew Max was powerless. To override Calista now would be to shame her before their guests. The boy would have to survive the ordeal somehow.
Satisfied justice had been done, Dye allowed himself to be pulled back. Calista turtled with him a moment, placating him with more wine. Dye drained the cup in one draught and the crowd began talking again. Max turned to Salvius with a rueful smile. ‘Let’s share an amphora of wine later, together with Decentius. I must greet my sister-in-law.’
Salvius’ eyebrow twitched as he cocked his head in her direction. ‘Dear Calista. Look at her, sitting there in the shadows, whispering her little machinations to your poor brother. I wonder what she’s up to this time.’ As Max moved off, Salvius gently grasped his arm. ‘Be careful of her, Max. She’s never forgiven you for rejecting her. And her ambition hasn’t lessened any since you left. She’s gathered quite a crowd of supporters around herself, spouting her talk of racial purity. People are uncertain of what the future holds. Sometimes I think that she would make your brother a straw man and control this tribe through him.’
Max felt his stomach tighten. So Salvius felt it too. Calista was dangerous. Max looked over to her. She gave a small, regal wave.
‘Look at her! More royal than the royals themselves.’ The deep voice in his ear made Max turn. Decentius!
Max grinned his delight and found himself caught up in another bear hug. ‘You’ve grown no fonder of Calista then?’
Burly, loyal Decentius had been the first to advise him against the match. He shook his blonde head now in disgust. ‘She’s more rapacious than ever. These months of illness have been hard for Severus; Calista has used flattery to gain influence with him. Salvius is right. She’s not to be underestimated, Maximus. That cat won’t be satisfied till she has power,’ Decentius grunted. ‘For now she makes do with jewellery. Rumour has it your brother is a pauper thanks to that new collar around her beautiful neck.’
Max nodded tersely. The necklace Calista was wearing was extravagant, even by her standards. It sparked and flamed at her throat. Something about the strangeness of it spoke of Calista’s character, the flashes of anger and insight of which she was capable. Bizarre, how the pale green gems matched her strange eyes exactly. They glittered now as she gazed at him, their paleness outlandish in the candlelight.
Those eyes had been the reason he had refused her. He’d been unable to face a life of not knowing what lay hidden in their depths.
Arthur Britannicus Page 34