The Poisoned Throne: Tintagel Book II

by M. K. Hume

  Gwennan paused and her embarrassment, usually foreign to whores, flooded her pale face and made her even more attractive.

  ‘I understand, woman,’ Constantinus replied gruffly. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Three men burst into the room with drawn swords. I didn’t know what to do, so I found a corner of the room and tried to hide there. They lifted the Roman, who kicked and spat like a madman as he tried to throw them off. He was punched several times and his nose started to bleed, so I’m sure you’ll find lots of his blood in my room. I thought I’d be killed, but they ignored me as if I was invisible. Then they dragged your Marcus Britannicus away.’

  Constantinus leaped on Gwennan’s use of his commander’s name.

  ‘How did you know his full name? I’ve treated you fairly so far, Gwennan, but I’ll strip the flesh from your bones if you are proven to have lied to me. Do you understand me?’

  ‘You used his name yourself. I’ve heard everybody using that name, especially the mistress. He could have been the King of Londinium for all I knew, so I just used the same one that everyone else was using. I didn’t know the men who burst into the room, or I don’t think I did. Their faces were hidden by heavy woollen scarves. They were wearing black cloaks and they kept away from the oil lamps as if they didn’t want to be seen. I swear, master! I had no notion of what was about to happen to my patron.’

  ‘If your mistress gave you his name, how did she happen to know it? What else did she tell you?’

  ‘Shut your stupid mouth or they’ll kill us all,’ Clidna howled at Gwennan and received a backhand blow across the face from Paulus for her trouble. Her smashed nose bled in a fountain of rich red that ran down her face and over her cursing mouth.

  The tide of invective continued to flow and Paulus would have struck her again, but Constantinus gripped his hand tightly.

  ‘Force the whore to explain herself,’ Paulus complained. ‘She doesn’t want her girl to speak, so these bitches must know something else. I’ll get it out of them if I have to roast them over a fire.’

  ‘He told me his name,’ Clidna mumbled triumphantly through the blood. ‘You can’t prove otherwise!’

  ‘I can do whatever I want, bitch,’ Constantinus retorted. ‘I can kill you at any time of my choosing. I can also make it an easy death or a hard one. The only matter that concerns you is that you’ll experience a great deal of pain while I’m extracting the information that I require from you.’

  ‘Clidna knew his name and she told me he was very important,’ Gwennan interrupted with a sneer of contempt. ‘I’m the one who looks after the difficult pigs who have special needs . . . Clidna had to list his requirements, or I’d not have been able to please him. But she was very pleased with herself when she told me about your friend, because she told me he was worth a lot of coin to the house.’

  ‘So she was well paid for her services?’ Paulus interrupted. The whore cast a scornful glance at her mistress.

  ‘I don’t know! All I know for certain is that Clidna told me I might win my freedom from the house, if I performed well and behaved myself. I’d give my right arm to leave this shithole, even pander to a slug like your Roman friend. But I can’t tell you how those men entered the house because Clidna always kept the doors locked after dark. All of our clients know that they have to knock in a certain way to be admitted. Nudd, our guard, isn’t very clever, but he understands he has to protect the house from noisy or dangerous customers. As well, Nudd has been sweet on Clyte for a long time. He might be half-witted, but he’s as strong as an ox and I’ve never known him to admit anyone who was armed. Why would he do so now?’

  ‘I’ve been told that there were five men in the gang that came to the Bower of Beauty.’ Constantinus examined his nails as if the question was unimportant, but just a recapitulation of previously agreed fact.

  Gwennan shrugged as well as her bound hands would allow. ‘I only saw three of them. They locked me in the room and, although I yelled and threw my weight against the door, I was forced to stay in my room until Clyte let me out.’

  ‘Clidna swears you were accompanied by Clyte and herself during your . . . er . . . ministrations to Marcus. Yet you’re suggesting now that you were alone. Who is lying?’

  Gwennan’s face became flat and unreadable. She had obviously been trying to save her own skin, but her owner’s admissions were implicating her in the crime at every turn.

  She sighed, and then continued. ‘Every woman has a speciality in the world of the brothel. Mine is pain! I learned before I was ten that my speciality saved me from some disgusting contacts with many of my less likeable customers . . . and the bastards pay very well for their humiliation. I’ve already decided that I’ve earned enough to get out of this cesspit and start a new life in the north. If your family is very poor or indebted to someone, they’ll sell promising daughters to the local house for a few copper coins. That was my fate. I was only eight when I first came here, sir, but I’m not stupid.’

  Constantinus nodded, feeling a frisson of guilt, as if he personally was at fault for whores’ miserable lives.

  ‘On this visit, both Clyte and Clidna joined me in my room from the very first. We were ordered to strip off our clothing, but I refused, because I knew that this patron would want me to act like a haughty lady. He smiled at me, but he still ordered Clyte to undress so he could inspect her body while he cavorted with me. Clyte is a nervous little thing. She’s fourteen, older than most of the girls who enter our trade, but she has never been comfortable with life in a whorehouse. I felt sorry for her, because there have been nights when I’ve heard her crying for her mother in the darkness. I’d protect her from harm if I could . . . but I can’t even protect myself.’

  She paused again to consider her next words.

  ‘On the other hand, Clidna wasn’t to the Roman’s fancy. Too fat, I suppose! So he called her an ugly cow and ordered her to leave. The mistress wasn’t pleased! After she left, I insisted that the client wouldn’t need Clyte until I’d completed my ministrations and I would be the one who would tell him when the time was ripe for him to fuck her. He liked that! I tied his hands loosely and then struck him several times with the paddle to get him in the mood for what I wanted to do to him. Do I have to say?’

  Constantinus shook his head.

  He could easily imagine the scene she described, so her words had a ring of truth. Yes, Gwennan’s story made a grim sense.

  ‘I believe your Roman was happy when the masked men broke in,’ the whore explained. ‘I was about to call for Clyte to join us when the men entered the room through the door. I swear that I only saw three of them and I hadn’t heard anything that concerned me except for the sound Clyte, who was crying in the next room. They said nothing and the silence that settled on the room was very frightening.’

  ‘Did you notice anything about the men that would be useful to me? Anything at all?’

  While the girl racked her brain for anything that might save her from the agony of torture, Constantinus considered his next step. It might be easier to glean some information from the half-wits, Nudd and Lachie, since they would find it difficult to hide what they knew.

  ‘One of the men had an unusual-sounding voice that I couldn’t recognise. He was speaking in an old-fashioned way, if you know what I mean,’ Gwennan said slowly.

  ‘Was he a tribesman? Or even a Briton from another tribe? Was he a Roman?’

  ‘No! I think he was a Briton. I’ve heard some very old people use some of his expressions, but I don’t really understand what they mean. But the man wasn’t an ancient, and nor were the rest of the men. They looked like soldiers, although they had plaits under their disguises. They could have been Britons from some distant tribe. There’s something about the way that Roman soldiers stand and walk. They come down hard on their heels as if they’re marching off to battle. The
y always look as if they are disciplined, I guess. But these men weren’t Romans. I’d have known if they were.’

  ‘Thank you, Gwennan.’

  Constantinus turned to his junior officer. ‘Let her down, Paulus. Give her a couple of coins and set her free. Don’t argue with me! She’s told us all she knows as honestly as she can, so we’ll send her on her way. However . . . not so the rest of them!’

  Constantinus turned back to the shocked woman, who had been thoroughly convinced that she would be killed out of hand for her complicity in the crime. As Paulus released her chains, Gwennan almost fell the last few inches. She crawled shakily to her feet, careless of how her robe fell open to reveal a freckled breast. Then, as she felt the eyes of the soldiers on her, she pulled her clothing around her with protesting arm muscles.

  ‘You will absent yourself from Corinium before tomorrow’s dawn or I’ll be forced to change my mind. And if anything else comes to your mind before you leave, I would suggest you send me a message. It would be best for you if you didn’t see me again, Gwennan. Do you understand?’

  Gwennan nodded. Still amazed at her good fortune, she was escorted out of the cellar by Paulus.

  When Paulus returned, he leaned in close to his commander. ‘That might be a mistake, sir. You should have tortured that bitch a little to make sure that she told us everything she knows before we let her go. It sets a bad example for the others if we don’t use a little force.’

  ‘I know what you’re saying, Paulus. But I don’t believe that torture would have made any difference to that woman. Clidna, however, is a totally different matter . . .’

  Both pairs of Roman eyes turned towards the breathless woman who was hanging with her swollen feet barely reaching the ground.

  ‘Our attention returns to you, Clidna, so we’ll start all over again! But this time, we’ll be telling the truth, won’t we? Did you allow five men to enter the Bower of Beauty?’

  Clidna was struggling against the chains that clattered from her efforts to free herself, but her face was a mixed study of fear and cunning. ‘I allowed no one in but Marcus Britannicus and his two bodyguards,’ she retorted triumphantly.

  Constantinus sighed. ‘Lift her up a little, Paulus, to convince her we mean business.’

  Paulus complied, roughly jerking her off her feet while ignoring her shrieks of pain.

  ‘We aren’t hurting you yet, so don’t try for sympathy. Did anyone else let the five strangers enter the house?’

  ‘My boys might have let them in. I can’t be held responsible for everything that happens in the Bower of Beauty.’

  ‘You own this particular shithouse, so I’ll hold you responsible.’ Constantinus turned to his decurion.

  ‘Bring in the two missing brothers, Paulus, if they’ve been found yet.’

  ‘You’d better hope, woman, that I don’t catch you out in a lie or I’ll let Paulus convince you of the severity of your sins,’ he added for Clidna’s benefit. ‘Paulus doesn’t like parasites that prey on Roman legionnaires, do you, Paulus? Sooner or later, you’ll beg him to listen to the truth, because no amount of coin is worth the pain we’ll inflict on you. Your confederates are miles away by now and they won’t return to save you, so you’ll be suffering instead of them. Never mind, Clidna! It’s your choice!’

  Clidna swore and wept in equal measure while Paulus checked on the status of the search for the servant, Lachie, who was still missing. Meanwhile, Nudd was dragged out of his cell by two legionnaires and bound to a chair near the brazier. He whimpered in fear, an incongruous noise coming from such an enormous man.

  Nudd was a veritable giant. He stood a head taller than Constantinus and weighed almost twice as much. His arms were very long and hung almost to his knees. Conversely, his legs were thick and short by comparison with his torso. Muscle mass ridged his whole body and fat veins wound like ropes along his powerful arms. His neck was so thick that his chin seemed to rise out of his chest.

  By comparison, the fair-haired head that topped the huge body was small and delicate. His features seemed unformed; his small blue eyes were widely spaced and slanted upwards at the ends, with lashes and eyebrows so fair that they were virtually invisible.

  ‘Do you know the difference between truth and lies, Nudd?’ Constantinus smiled gently as he spoke in the careful, unthreatening patterns he would have used with a child.

  Nudd nodded so vigorously that it almost seemed he might shake his entire head off his straining shoulders. ‘Me mam taught me and me brother good so the priests wouldn’t take us away to a dark place where we’d never see her again.’

  His voice was a high-pitched squeak. Constantinus lifted up Nudd’s chin and discovered that he had never grown facial hair, a strange feature that added to his unfinished appearance.

  ‘Do you know how old you are, Nudd?’

  The huge bodyguard kept staring around the room and whimpered when he saw his mistress and Clyte hanging from their chains.

  ‘Have they been very bad?’ Nudd asked, with tears glistening in his eyes.

  ‘Yes, Nudd. They’ve been lying to me.’

  ‘Even Clyte? I like Clyte! She’s my friend and she gives me sweetcakes if I help her. I don’t like it when you hurt Clyte.’

  The last sentence was spoken with more determination, as if Nudd had found a reason to offer resistance to Constantinus and his other torturers.

  ‘If you tell me everything I want to know, perhaps I can make sure that Clyte won’t be hurt any more. Is that what you want?’

  The lad paused for a moment, and then nodded enthusiastically. Constantinus realised that violence against Nudd would be pointless.

  ‘Now, Nudd. I’ll ask you again. How old are you?’

  Nudd’s expression was painful to watch as he was afraid to fail this man who owned such a bright sword and such dark eyes. Distress caused him to fidget on his seat.

  ‘No, sir! I can’t remember things real good. Lachie might know, because he remembers things better than me.’

  Nudd had some difficulty with the word remember, but after several false starts he was finally able to pronounce it.

  This interrogation will take all day at this rate, Constantinus thought irritably, but he tried to quell his impatience.

  ‘Do you remember the men who came to the Bower of Beauty?’

  ‘Yes, I remember. One man in a fine cloak wasn’t very nice, but my mistress took him upstairs so Gwennan could make him happy.’

  ‘Listen carefully, Nudd. I want you to tell me what happened to the two men who were with him.’ Constantinus spoke slowly and clearly.

  ‘Selwyn took them to the kitchens for supper.’

  ‘You’re being very good, Nudd, and I think that Clyte is pleased with you as well. You are pleased, aren’t you, Clyte?’ Constantinus responded silkily.

  ‘Yes, Nudd, I’m very pleased.’ Clyte spoke clearly for the first time in her childish voice. Clidna opened her mouth to speak, but Constantinus knew that the brothel-keeper would terrify Nudd if she continued with her tirade. He had no hesitation in ordering the whore to be gagged, an instruction that both legionnaires obeyed with pleasure as they rammed a dirty cloth into her bleeding mouth.

  ‘Why are you hurting Mistress Clidna? Did she also tell lies?’

  ‘Yes, Nudd, she did. And she has been cursing too much. Did your mother tell you that it is wrong to use bad words?’ Constantinus managed to sound both fatherly and censorious.

  ‘Yes, but Lachie says that Clidna’s the mistress, so she’s allowed to say what she wants.’

  ‘Did you go to the kitchens with Selwyn and the two men?’

  ‘No! Mistress Clidna told me that I was to wait and open the door for some more visitors. She said someone would be coming soon.’

  Constantinus held his breath while Clidna strugg
led to spit out the wad of cloth that had been jammed between her teeth.

  ‘Yes, sir! I heard them when they knocked on the door, but I was afraid because there were a lot of men on the doorstep. They had black cloths over their faces so I could only see their eyes. They pushed straight past me and didn’t speak. Two of the men went into the kitchens and the other three went upstairs to Gwennan’s room.’

  ‘What did you do then, Nudd? Did you try to find your mistress?’

  ‘She was already waiting for them at the top of the stairs. She told me to go to my room and stay there.’ Nudd paused for a moment. ‘So that’s what I did. I stayed there until Lewis came and let me out. I went to bed then.’

  ‘Now, Nudd, the question I’m about to ask is the most important one of all, so I want you to think very hard before you answer me. If you can tell me the truth, I will let you and Clyte go. Please don’t bother to tell any stories, because I’ll know. Just tell the truth! Are you ready?’

  Nudd’s changing facial expressions spoke eloquently of his understanding.

  ‘Yes. I’m ready.’ Nudd squared his shoulders.

  ‘Did any of the men say anything that you can remember? Clyte is depending on you.’

  Nudd burst into speech and repeated every word he had heard, reciting all of the various conversations in a flat voice as if reading from a script. As he spoke, Constantinus realised that Nudd was a true savant, a person with very little understanding, but with an uncanny ability to recall verbatim everything he heard, no matter how trivial or how meaningless it might be to him.

  With a sudden flash of recognition, Constantinus stopped the recitation of a five-way conversation. ‘Repeat that last part, Nudd. I want to hear the bit where the man mentions the name of his master.’