Alma did not notice her sarcasm. “I guess you mean the great rains and pestilence. Do you think the Roman gods and goddesses were weaker than other, more natural forces?”
“The outcome speaks for itself, I think. Can you name one Roman deity that helped the Roman cause during that conflict?”
“I can think of only one—the god called Mercury.”
This answer shocked Boadicea. “What do you know of this god, Alma? Why are you so sure he benefitted the Roman cause?”
Boadicea paused to let Alma think about these questions. She was curious what the woman might say. But she was also becoming wary that she was being drawn into some sort of trap. She now distrusted Alma. She was waiting for the woman to betray herself.
Alma shook her head. “This is complicated. Mercury is the god of stealth and deception. What if the entire Roman loss in the last campaign was nothing but a deception?” Now Alma had changed the game on Boadicea. She had taken initiative with a question no one had asked within the Confederation. She now had Boadicea’s entire attention.
“I’m interested in learning why you say that, Alma.”
“All right. Things weren’t going well for the Romans. They tried valiantly to be straightforward and had no luck. Their luck got worse and worse. Finally, they had to withdraw and consolidate.”
All the time she spoke, Alma was gesturing wildly with her arms and hands. She was like the choral figure in a formal play.
Boadicea nodded, but added, “Yes, they withdrew after killing, raping, plundering, burning and trying to erase every Caledonian from the face of the earth.”
“But they didn’t leave Britannia.” Alma’s bald statement brought Boadicea’s head around.
“No, they apparently didn’t leave.” She said this grudgingly.
Alma nodded. Then she added insult to injury. “In fact, they reinforced the Wall and moved additional troops to the north.”
Boadicea squinted at Alma and asked, “So what?”
Alma hesitated before she responded. She looked around as if seeing the place for the first time. She whispered, “Well, what if their plan is to mass their forces below the Wall, with the intention to push north in one tremendous movement to drive all Caledonians to the seas on all sides?”
With an open mouth, Boadicea tried to get clarification of what she had just heard. “So you’re saying the Romans aren’t planning to remain where they are and leave us alone. You’re saying we’re too complacent. Once the Romans have sufficient troops and arms, they’ll attack without relenting?”
Alma now had her arms crossed over her chest. She became a little defensive. “Doesn’t that make sense? After all, they’ve conquered nearly all the world. If only the weather and the plague had not intervened, they’d already have killed or enslaved every Caledonian.”
Boadicea nodded and tapped her foot. She began to see what Alma was saying. “It does make sense when you put it that way. But what if the rain and pestilence could come back whenever we require them? What if the Romans can’t learn how to deal with our style of fighting?”
Alma laughed outright and by the glare in the warrior’s eyes saw Boadicea was taking offense and getting angry at her. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, only at what you just said. If the weather were ordinary, the Roman way of fighting would be insuperable. It has been everywhere else. As for hoping that the atmospheric conditions will be disadvantageous to Rome at will, that’s wishful thinking. Roman gods can’t be counted on to bring spring rains when they’re required. No gods can assuredly bring destructive weather. There isn’t enough money in the world to guarantee that.”
“Whatever do you mean by that, Alma?”
“The Romans believe that the gods and men have a bargain.”
Boadicea seemed to become impatient. She fidgeted and opened her mouth to speak.
“Don’t interrupt me while I explain this, Boadicea. The problem wasn’t the weather. The problem was that the Romans didn’t pay enough to the gods to have them prevent what happened.”
“I get it now. So if the Romans had paid a fortune to each of their priests and priestesses, the bad weather wouldn’t have happened. Now I’m the one who’s laughing. Mind you, I’m not laughing at what you said. I’m laughing at you because you said it.”
Boadicea laughed until she thought her sides would split. Alma pouted, feeling insulted and affronted by the warrior woman’s sacrilege. After a couple of minutes, Boadicea calmed down.
“Okay, I’m sorry. How could all the treasure of Rome have prevented the weather that led to the Caledonian victory during the war?”
“Rome has gold, silver, jewels, mines, resources beyond your wildest imaginings.”
“Rome also has vices, corruption, crime and deceit beyond your wildest imaginings. In fact, those outweigh the imperial wealth and power absolutely.”
“Such words have earned Romans death for the utterance.”
“Such deeds have earned Roman soldiers death.”
The women glowered at each other for a few moments.
Then Boadicea said, “I’m going to grant for the moment that the Romans are deceptive. I’m also going to accept your premise that the Roman consolidation below the Wall may be a strategy. What is the Romans’ master plan, in your judgment? When and how will they strike at Caledonia?”
Alma looked down as if she were gathering her thoughts. When she looked up, her visage had changed. She spoke with authority as if she were reciting a memorized piece that, at least for her, was morally valid and supervening.
“The Romans will strike when they are fully prepared to push forward to their goal, which is total domination of Britannia. This time, there will be no long distance from the forward edge of battle to the auxiliary support. This time, there will be no need to go back to the Senate for funds. This time all the gods and goddesses will be in accord. The Emperor himself will lead the forces. His son will accompany him. The Empress will be housed at the Wall to show her support. As for the precise timing, that will be a matter of judgment beyond human knowing.”
Alma, having delivered this oration, stopped and breathed in. She was clearly unsettled at having to lay out the Roman plan as boldly as she had done. She did it for a number of reasons the Caledonians could never understand. First, she spoke the truth. Second, she felt backed into a corner. Third, she knew it should not matter whether the Roman plan was known because it was insuperable anyhow.
“Well, Alma, you certainly put the Roman case well. Spoken like a true Roman! I’m impressed. I suppose we Caledonians should be trembling in our buskins at the very thought. I’d like to ask a question about only one part of your argument. I mean, the part about the gods and goddesses all being in accord.”
“What seems mysterious about that?”
“My father and his mentor have made a close study of the Roman gods and goddesses. From everything they’ve told me, those celestial figures have been warring throughout time. They’re always playing tricks on one another. None has the well being of humans in his designs.”
“Humans have little to do with the designs of the gods and goddesses.” She said this superciliously, shocked that Boadicea would not understand this seemingly natural fact.
“You’re making my point, Alma. The Romans fail because they don’t account for the ideals of men and women like us. They never have. They hold humans in subjection for what? For money? For their sport? As a token of their superiority over the affairs of men?”
“Let’s take Mercury as an example,” Alma said.
“I’m listening,” Boadicea stated, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
“Mercury helped Perseus accomplish his mission against Medusa.”
Boadicea knew the story. “He didn’t work alone. My father told me he provided the sack for her head, the wings for Perseus’s feet to get him to the end of the earth quickly and the cloak of invisibility so he could remain undetected in the gorgon’s presence. Good but not sufficient.”
“That’s all true. He needed the goddess Athena’s shield, for one. But now you’re making my point. The gods have to work in unison to accomplish a purpose as great as the conquest of Britannia. Who did you say your father was?”
“I didn’t say, but my father is Wiglaff.”
“I’ve heard of this man. A shaman. Very powerful. You’re his daughter? And a warrior?”
Boadicea nodded proudly. “Stranger things have happened, Alma, than the daughter of a great shaman becoming a warrior.”
“True. I know something about such odd occurrences. I’m the daughter of a warrior. But let me continue. Zeus, king of the gods and Juno, his queen are behind the invasion of Caledonia. Likewise, Mercury and Mars.”
“Mars’s emblems stood in the front of the Roman advance during the last war.” Boadicea had evidently been impressed by the Roman emblems.
“Yes, as Mavors and Enyo, his hawk was held high.” Alma was proud of her Roman traditions, but Boadicea was not going to let her gloat about them.
“And was brought low, as I recall. My mother told me the story while I was barely old enough to understand her. She found the standard and the emblem of the hawk still in the hands of the man who carried them into battle. She cut the man’s wrist off because he wouldn’t release his charge, even in death. She gave that hawk and standard to my father to mount in his cavern as a trophy of war.”
Alma’s eyes were now glittering with excitement. “Where is your father’s cavern?”
“It’s at the end of the earth, as far as you’re concerned. It’s as inaccessible as the gorgons’ cave.”
“Tell me about this cavern.” Alma reached out and grasped Boadicea’s arm. Her eyes were alight with anticipation.
Boadicea saw her enthusiasm and said, “I can tell you it’s high off the ground. It’s as big as the surface of the earth.”
“How can this be?” Alma asked, her eyes wide with disbelief and wonder.
“If a man could see into every crevice of the world from a single place, the cavern would be it. Wouldn’t that answer your question?”
“Please go on. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“You mentioned a hawk. My father has a magnificent specimen that feeds from his hand. But he has an eagle also.”
“So is he a priest of Zeus as well as Mars?” Alma asked her.
“He also has an owl and a raven.”
“That would mean Athena and Vulcan too.” Now Alma was impressed.
“Your words and associations are meaningless to him and to me. Alma, I fear you’ve become enamored of the Roman pantheon. If you don’t love their gods, you’re overly fearful of them, which is the same thing.”
“Don’t let my outbursts stop you from telling me everything, Boadicea. I find what you’re saying fascinating.”
Boadicea boasted, “My father has a protégé, who is my cousin.”
“Does he have powers also?” Alma was leaning forward to catch every word.
“My father says that his protégé has powers that far outstrip his own. Mornow was not only born with powers, but he has the greatest teacher in the world, my father.”
“I’m excited, Boadicea. Please tell me more.”
“I fear, Alma, that I’ve said too much already. Our enemy would give all their treasure to know what brought them low.”
“What powers could possibly be greater than those that stopped an empire from achieving its aims?”
Boadicea explained, “The powers of independence and freedom are greater.” She was exasperated by having to state the obvious.
“Abstractions! Those are abstractions. They don’t stop armies in their tracks or kill fifty thousand men who have been hardened for battle.”
“You may be Caledonian, as you allege, but you don’t sound like a Caledonian now.” Though she suspected Alma was a Roman and a spy, her last statement simply sealed her suspicion that Alma was most likely a spy after all. Boadicea’s eyes were flashing now. Her hand moved towards her sword. Just then Winna burst into the tent.
“Boadicea, Wiglaff couldn’t come. Instead he sent your cousin, my son Mornow to talk with this woman.”
“Mornow is here?”
“He’s right outside.”
“Before he comes in, I’d like to take a few precautions.”
“As you see fit.”
Boadicea walked up to Alma and embraced her, careful to feel every place on the woman’s body where she might have concealed a weapon. She discovered in her rabbit skins a sharp knife, which she handed to Winna before she walked outside.
“Alma, I’m going to send Mornow in to see you. He’ll find your mother, but you must be patient. He’ll seem a little distant at first.” Winna smiled and backed to the door. To Alma it seemed that she transformed into her son because after she blinked, she saw Mornow dressed in a rabbit skin robe something like her own. On his shoulder sat an enormous crow.
Mornow did not begin to talk immediately. Instead he entered the hut and smelled it. He walked around Alma as if he were looking for something. The crow cawed. He cawed back to it. The bird spread its wings and flapped, but remained on Mornow’s shoulder.
“Your name is Alma. You came north looking for your mother.”
“Those are facts,” Alma said, “and what of them? Can you help me in my quest?”
“That depends on the real nature of your quest,” Mornow said. He was now standing right in front of her, looking directly into her eyes. His crow seemed to be examining her also.
“I told your mother about my quest already.”
“You told my mother a lie. You know full well where your mother is. What’s your real quest?”
“Perhaps it’s to find a man like you, intelligent and wise—and powerful.” Alma spoke with authority. She did not seem at all frightened or desperate. It seemed she had expected this kind of scrutiny was possible. She was playing a dangerous game, and she liked the combat of wits.
“Again, you lie. Don’t trifle with me. I know you’re a priestess of Mercury, half a Roman and half a Caledonian.”
“How can you know those things?”
Mornow raised his nose as if he smelled something rotten. “You aren’t denying them.”
“Why should I?” Alma asked.
“Perhaps to save your life?”
“Are you threatening me, shaman?”
“Are you trying to flatter me, priestess? I’m not worthy to be a shaman.” He said this sincerely, knowing she was trying to flatter him as a strategy. She nodded as if to an equal.
“I see. Show me something of your power.”
Mornow walked around Alma until he stood right behind her. Wherever her eyes turned, he was not present. She turned around suddenly and looked in a full circle.
“Where are you?”
“Surely you know about the cloak of invisibility. You’re a priestess of Mercury the god.”
“Are you a priest of Mercury?” Alma asked him.
“You tell me, Alma.”
She turned in the direction of the voice, but nothing was there. She heard a crow cawing. She quickly turned towards that noise, but nothing was there either.
“Stop playing games with me.”
“Tell me why you’ve come to us telling lies about your mother.”
“I came to discover the truth about the insurrection.” She did not hesitate before she uttered this blatant confession.
He looked her in the eyes, scrutinizing her for outward signs of faithlessness. “That’s better, but it’s not quite true, is it?”
She nodded. “I’ve come to gather intelligence.”
“So you’re a spy. That I can believe. A spy for whom?”
She refused to be deflected by his wrath. “If you must know, I come for Mercury, my god.”
“Why should you do that? He already knows what he needs to know. After all, he’s a god.”
“That may be true, Mornow, but Rome has paid a great deal of money to have Mercury guarantee a
victory in this war that we’re in. I’m tasked to discover what will guarantee that victory.”
“Why?” Now he was perplexed. He wondered what her game really was.
Alma said, “Rome’s relationship with the gods is complicated, but it can be simplified in an emergency.” She paused for effect.
Mornow tapped his foot impatiently. “Continue.”
As if lecturing to a schoolboy, she said, “It’s about DO ET DAS. I give and you give. It’s the bond between all the gods and Rome.”
Mornow stepped close so Alma could see him.
“So you’ve come because you and your people are worried. You’re so worried that the huge sum of money Rome has paid your temples might be in jeopardy.”
She did not budge or deny what he had said. She remarked, “You put the matter so coldly.”
“Is it true?”
She thought for a moment, wondering whether to lie. Then like the priestess that she was, she spoke the truth even if it should cost her life. “Yes. We could not stand losing another battle against the Caledonian Confederacy. Rome would ask for its money back. We’d all be bankrupt. I mean all the temples of the gods would be.”
Mornow laughed out loud. The crow started laughing too, only it cawed repeatedly. Then Mornow cawed, and the two cawed together.
He stopped laughing suddenly and said, “No wonder it was so easy for us to defeat you.”
“Easy? You were facing certain annihilation. You only survived because of torrential rain and infectious contagion. Those won’t help you next time.” She was scoffing at him because he seemed too blind to understand the truth.
“Next time?” Mornow asked with an open mouth.
“I told your cousin Boadicea all about it.”
Mornow excused himself and stepped outside the hut. He came back in with Boadicea.
“Boadicea, Alma tells me that you know the master plan for the Roman invasion of Caledonia. Is that so?”
“I’m not sure. I know what I was told, but I don’t know whether it’s true.”
The WIglaff Tales (The Wiglaff Chronicles Book 1) Page 11