Emogene rose to her feet and turned. It was then that she saw the boy. He was sitting in front of the large white tent, his neck and legs shackled to an iron chain that vanished into the tent. He was picking at his finger nails and staring at the ground. It was the same tent which the man with the white coat had entered. Emogene turned her back and quickly walked away. A fierce sense of triumph surged through her. She had found him and he was alive. She had been right to come back.
Chapter Twelve - Nothing will ever be the same again
Emogene kept walking. Her spirit soared. She would wait until it was dark. Then she would return and get him out of that tent. A couple of prostitutes passed her going in the opposite direction and the girls stared at her curiously. Emogene bit her lip. More people were turning to look at her. Why were they looking at her? She was attracting too much attention. She fought the urge to run, to get away from this awful place. Something was wrong. Then she understood. Her face was still covered in blue woad. She had forgotten to wash it off. It looked out of place. No one amongst the camp followers was wearing any. That must have been why the guard had noticed her.
She quickened her pace and had just left the last tents and cooking fires behind when a hand caught her by the shoulder and forced her to a halt. The fingers gripped her so tightly that she yelped in pain. She spun round and stared up at two men. One she recognised as the guard who had spoken to her at the tent. The other was older and a foreigner, a soldier, clad in armour. There was a cunning, knowing look on the older man's face.
"Yes that's her," the Briton said with a nod. "She was watching the slaves. I think her man may be amongst them."
The older man was examining her carefully. It was his fingers that gripped her shoulder and forced her to stop.
"Why were you watching the slaves? What are they to you?" he said speaking her language slowly and brokenly with a thick accent.
Emogene hissed at him, bearing her teeth but the soldier looked unimpressed. With his free hand he slapped her hard across the face. The blow caught her by surprise and the pain seared through her head.
"Answer me," the soldier shouted.
Emogene gasped and turned to stare up at the man. Then a wave of rage surged through her body. With a shriek she kicked out and her foot caught the soldier right in his groin. Then she was free and racing away across the hill. When at last she dared look round she saw that there was no pursuit. From the corner of her eye she noticed Bones bounding towards her. The two men were where she had left them. The soldier she had kicked was on his knees his hands pressed to his groin. Emogene cried out in savage delight and raised her hand in a crude gesture of defiance.
***
Carefully she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Night had finally come and the darkness hid her as she crouched just beyond the edge of the army followers camp. The cooking fires filled the night with a reddish glow and she could clearly smell the delicious scent of roasting meat. She had eaten the last of her food and once more she was hungry but her hunger would have to wait. Her eyes peered into the darkness. Then slowly she rose and calmly, keeping to the shadows she began to make her way towards the large tent. The slavers tent was easy to spot for a huge fire burned before its entrance around which men had gathered. They were eating. She could hear their voices as she approached. Giving the fire a wide berth she circled round the back and crouched down beside a tree stump. So far so good, but this was the easy part. The back of the tent was a few yards away. The glow of the fire could be seen through the linen. A man laughed and the fire crackled and spat as someone threw another log onto it. Would there be others inside the tent? She had no way of knowing. Slowly she pulled her knife from her clothes and peered at the metal. A quick glance behind her. She was alone. Quickly she flitted up to the tent and raising the knife jabbed it into the linen. There was no sound of alarm. As quietly as she could she started to cut until she had made a hole large enough for her to crawl through. She stopped to listen. One of the men beside the fire had started to sing. Gingerly she lifted the flap of canvas and peered inside.
An oil lamp hung from the roof and in its glare she saw a bed and a table. In the corner was a large metal chest. Then she saw him. He was sitting on the ground, half hidden in the shadows, staring straight at her with wide, terrified eyes.
"Emogene," he whispered, "Is that you?"
She slipped into the tent glancing warily at the entrance and the fire beyond. The man outside was still singing. She turned to look at the boy raising one finger to her mouth. He was blushing and there was an angry bruise around his eye that she had not noticed when she had first spotted him. Conall tried to rise and it was then that she saw that his legs and neck were chained together. Her heart sank. She had not thought about that. She stared at him, suddenly uncertain about what to do. The look of relief on the boys face faded and he sat back down.
"What have you told them?" she whispered advancing towards him.
Conall shook his head. "Nothing, I swear."
"Liar," she said kneeling down beside him. "They would not keep you in here, separated from the others, without a good reason. What have you told them?"
For a moment he held his own, then his face crumbled.
"They promised to set me free," he whispered. "Vellocatus said it himself but they lied to me, they tricked me. You must believe me Emogene."
She examined him closely. The boy was only a few years younger than her. She had known him since he had been a baby in his mother's arms.
"Your father is dead," she said.
He nodded and looked away fighting back sudden tears.
"What have you told them?"
Conall closed his eyes and his head drooped in defeat.
"I told them about the secret out in the ocean," he whispered with a sob.
Emogene closed her eyes. So the Romans knew. She had failed. Her father's law had been broken in a most catastrophic manner. All her father's precautions had been in vain. The boy raised his head and pleaded with her.
"I thought they would set me free. They will never find our village."
Emogene looked at him with a sudden coldness.
"What else have you told them?"
"Nothing, I swear it," and this time she knew he was speaking the truth. She glanced at the tent entrance. The man had stopped singing. She closed her eyes once more and clenched her teeth. Her father's law was clear and all had sworn to obey it. Their village's secret had to be protected at all costs. Her village was in danger. The slavers would use the boy as a guide to find her village and then the dream she'd had on Samhain would become a reality.
When she opened her eyes her face was devoid of emotion. She leant forwards and took the boys head in an embrace like an older sister comforting a younger brother. She felt his warm tears on her neck.
"Go to your father," she whispered as her left hand suddenly clamped over his mouth, "and be at peace Conall, son of Jodoc," and with that she slid her knife across his throat in one swift sharp movement. She felt his body tense in shock, then go limp. Blood spurted onto her arm and clothes.
"Forgive me Conall," she whispered feeling a tear trickle down her cheek.
Gently she lowered his body to the floor. His blood was beginning to spread out across the ground.
She stared at the dead boy. She had killed her own nephew. She had done what her father had made her swear to do. The person who broke their oath of silence would be killed. They had all agreed to that. They had all agreed, for the sake of their village. The bonds of family and kinsman ship would be ignored. The secret that lay out there in the Ocean had to be protected at all costs. At all costs.
Gently she brushed Conall's hair with her fingers. He looked so peaceful in death. Then her fingers started to tremble, her eyes widened and she opened her mouth and screamed. In that single moment it was as if everything she had been through in the past three days was released in one furious, high pitched and heartfelt scream. Outside the tent men yelled in shock and
alarm. Emogene rose to her feet just as the tent flap was thrown back and a man's face appeared. It was the soldier she had kicked earlier. He stared at her in alarm.
"You," he shouted.
Then before he could do anything else, Emogene was out through the tear in the tent and had vanished into the night.
Chapter Thirteen - A twist of fate
It was still dark when a hand roughly shook Marcus awake. He was just about to curse the fool who had dared wake him when he saw that it was Bestia, his commanding officer. The man was holding a beeswax candle in his hand.
"Get up," Bestia snapped. He looked irritated. "The Governor wants to see you in his tent immediately."
Marcus groaned as he felt his hangover. Then he swung his legs onto the ground. The eight man tent in which he slept was quiet except for Bestia's breathing and the gentle flicker of the candle. The others seemed still to be sleeping or pretending to be asleep. Marcus rubbed his face with his hand. He was already fully clothed and it only took a few moments to fix his belt and strap on his sword. What on earth could Agricola want with him? Had he said something wrong whilst speaking to him in the latrines?
"Get moving," Bestia growled, "I haven't got all fucking day."
"Am I in trouble?" Marcus replied sliding his feet into his boots.
"How the fuck should I know, shut up and do as you are told."
Marcus finished tying up his boots. "I heard that a Caledonian girl kicked you in the balls yesterday," he said turning away so that Bestia would not see his smile. There was a snigger of laughter from amongst the sleeping men in the tent. Bestia spun round and shone his candle at Marcus's comrades but they all seemed to be fast asleep.
"The bitch couldn't handle my size," Bestia muttered. He took a step forwards and slapped Marcus over the head, "Get moving, the Governor is waiting."
Marcus had never been inside the Governor's tent before. He ducked through the opening with a general feeling of apprehension. What did Agricola want? Bestia followed him in. The Governor was sat behind his desk reading as Marcus stepped forward and rapped out a quick salute. Behind him Bestia did likewise. Agricola looked up and gave Marcus a quick examination. In the corner of the tent stood another man who Marcus didn't recognise. The man was clad in a white bear skin coat. He was staring at Marcus with sharp, cold eyes.
Agricola rose and came round to have a closer look at Marcus. The flickering oil lamps in the tent hissed softly.
"When we last met," Agricola spoke quietly, "You mentioned that you had a British mother and that you speak the Briton language."
"Yes Sir, I do. My mother was from the tribe of Trinovantes."
Agricola nodded and glanced at his desk. "I have been reading your service record. Age twenty. No convictions, no deducted pay, no assault charges, no homosexual behaviour, no attempts to bribe his officers. You are an exemplary soldier Marcus. I see a great career ahead for you."
Marcus stood to attention staring straight ahead. His hangover had vanished. "Yes Sir," he said.
"And I knew your father Corbulo," Agricola added. Agricola paused and for a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say something more but then he changed his mind.
"Where did you grow up?" Agricola said turning his back.
Marcus stared into the distance. "At Deva Sir. My father was posted to the fortress. My mother and I lived in the town beside the fortress."
"So you grew up with the local tribes. You can blend in with the locals?"
Marcus nodded. The forests and marshes that surrounded Deva was the place he would escape to when his father's violent behaviour and his mother's misery got too much. As a boy he had loved going hunting. He had loved the wild freedom of the woods and marshes. His mother had taught him everything she knew about plants and herbs. She had taught him about the spirits that lived in every stream, rock and grove. She had taught him about her forefathers. She had taught him far more useful things than his father ever had. His father had only taught him the meaning of fear.
"I am at ease with my mother's people," Marcus replied.
Agricola looked pleased. He turned to the man clad in the white coat. "He is the perfect scout," he announced.
The man with the white coat stirred and stepped forwards circling and examining Marcus as if Marcus was a slave being sold at auction. Finally the man turned to Agricola and grunted his approval.
Agricola turned to Marcus and his face mellowed. "I have a task for you Marcus. It will be a dangerous mission but you are well equipped for it." He paused, "Bestia you may leave us," he said.
Bestia snapped out a quick salute, turned and exited the tent.
"Soldier," Agricola said quietly turning to Marcus, "what I am about to tell you stays strictly between us. You are to tell no one about your mission. Clear?"
"Clear Sir," Marcus frowned.
"Stand at ease," Agricola ordered and Marcus relaxed.
Agricola gestured towards the man with the white coat. "Vellocatus here made an interesting discovery on the battlefield. He came across a Caledonian boy who claims to come from a village where Amber is found. The boy says there are huge quantities of it just lying around to be picked up. He says the people from his village collect the amber and store it in a cave, a sea cave. The boy says there is enough amber in that cave to build a small mountain. Problem is that the village is somewhere in the far north, we don't know where exactly. I require more evidence and proof that the boys story is true before I can do anything about it. So I want you to find this village and find out whether this boy is telling the truth."
Marcus glanced at Vellocatus. The man was observing him closely. Amber, he thought in surprise, in Caledonia? It seemed unlikely. But it explained Agricola and this Vellocatus's interest. Amber was one of the most precious resources known to man. In Rome, even a small handful of the mineral would fetch its owner a huge price. Just a handful of this Northern gold would be worth the same as an adult male slave in prime condition. The rich ladies used it as jewellery, in ornaments and also as incense. Such was the shortage of supply that when Nero had still been Emperor a young knight had set off along the amber road to the shores of the Baltic and had returned with cartloads of amber that had made him into one of the richest men in Rome. Oh, yes, he could see why a lot of people would be interested in finding that cave.
"If you don't know where the village is why not ask this boy," Marcus replied. "Why not get him to show you the way to the Amber cave?"
Agricola smiled with sudden delight. Vellocatus however looked annoyed.
"It seems the boy was murdered a few hours ago," Agricola said. "He won't be guiding us anywhere."
"Murdered?" Marcus looked confused.
"A Caledonian woman," Vellocatus exclaimed sharply, "She managed to get into my tent and cut the boy's throat. It makes me believe that the amber story is true. I think the woman was there to make sure the boy did not show us the way. She killed him to protect the Amber."
"So she managed to escape?" there was a hint of contempt in Marcus's voice as he turned to look at Vellocatus. The slaver's face darkened. "I will find her," he muttered, "Don't worry I will make her pay for what she did."
"You will go this morning," Agricola said, "Leave your Roman armour, shield and clothes behind but you may take your cavalry sword. I will have my slave bring you some Caledonian clothes. You may also want to give some thought to a cover story that will explain your presence in the territory of the tribes that you will come across. Remember Marcus, I require proof that the Amber exists. When you have that proof return to me at once. If you cannot find anything then return on the winter solstice. The winter up here is terrible. Clear?"
"Yes Sir," Marcus said turning to Agricola, "Do we know anything more that can help me find this cave?"
"The boy said his village was beside the sea. The amber washes ashore from the sea," Vellocatus growled. "The village leader is a druid called Dougal. That's all the useful information that the boy could tell me."
"Mayb
e if you had kept the boy alive none of this would be necessary," Marcus suddenly snapped turning on Vellocatus. The prospect of riding out alone into the trackless wastes of Caledonia had not filled him with much excitement. Now he had to risk his life because the Briton slaver here was incompetent.
"Watch your mouth boy," Vellocatus hissed speaking in the Celtic language. "Scouts are expendable, especially when they are all alone."
"Enough," Agricola barked, "Speak Latin when you are in my presence." The tent fell silent.
Marcus lowered his eyes. It was no use moaning about his fate. He had been giving his orders. He raised his hand and pulled off the bronze phallic amulet from around his neck. For a moment he stared at the charm. Then he looked up at Agricola and stretched out his hand.
"If I find a soldiers death, then please Sir, give this to my father."
Chapter Fourteen - Fortune
Agricola watched the young man stride away into the night. A brave man he thought, just like his father had been. He glanced down at the bronze phallic amulet that the soldier had given him. It was a cheap copy and mass produced down at Deva but someone had scratched three letters into the bronze. He allowed himself a wry smile. Then his features hardened and he stepped back into his tent. There was still some more business to attend to, unpleasant business. Vellocatus was watching him carefully. Agricola moved round his desk, closed Marcus's file and turned to look at the slaver. Really, what did his wife's sister see in this man he thought. The girl was an idiot.
"A toast to the start of our joint enterprise," Vellocatus said glancing at the jug of wine that stood on the desk.
"No," Agricola retorted sharply. "There is one more thing that we need to discuss. It concerns the slaves that you are hoping to buy from the army. The deal is cancelled. The army will not be selling the slaves to you."
"What?" Vellocatus's spluttered. He blushed, looking confused.
Agricola fixed his eyes on the slaver. "The deal is cancelled. I have changed my mind. I am going to sell the slaves to Paterculus instead. You may go."
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