The druid waited until the cup was returned to him, refilled it, drained it, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled.
“It seems to me the gods are amused by sending us on fool’s errands.”
Duro raised an eyebrow and used his tongue to try and displace a piece of bread that had become lodged between his teeth. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he replied, before repeating his question for what felt like the tenth time that night. “What are we going to do?”
Bellicus set the empty cup down on the table and stretched his great body out on the floor next to Cai, who was already asleep, back leg jerking as if he was dreaming of chasing hares in a summer meadow.
“Coroticus will leave Narina to rot in Dun Breatann’s prison,” he said, bunching up his pack and placing it beneath his head as a pillow. “Unless someone gets her out.”
“Someone?” Duro’s tone was despairing, but his eyes were sparkling, and the druid knew his friend’s loyalty, or readiness for adventure, would never be in question.
“Us,” he replied with a grim nod. “Obviously.”
* * *
The next morning was cold and overcast, but dry, and there was a hint of spring returning to the land which gave Bellicus hope for their coming ‘fool’s errand’ as Duro had called it.
They said their farewells to Maedoc, and he went on his way, smiling with relief that his own adventure was over, and he was the proud owner of a new boat to sail back to Auchalic. The farmer was also glad to see his visitors off, fearing the wrath of Coroticus should word get out of him providing hospitality to the fugitives.
“Where will you go now, Bel? My advice would be to get out of Alt Clota and seek refuge with one of your brother druids. You’d have been better going with your Dalriadan friend and having him take you off in his boat.”
Bellicus nodded at the farmer’s advice and murmured noises of agreement. Of course, it would be sensible to travel somewhere, perhaps south to join up with the Merlin and Arthur – they would be more than happy to take him in after all, and he believed in their cause completely.
But he knew he had to try and rescue Narina from whatever fate Coroticus had planned for her. If the king had discovered the truth of Catia’s parentage, well, Bellicus was almost as much to blame as the queen. She hadn’t become pregnant with the girl on her own, even if she had concealed her identity so he didn’t know who he was sleeping with.
“I have one more favour to ask of you,” the druid said, and the farmer looked apprehensive. “Nothing dangerous,” Bellicus laughed, clapping a hand on the man’s bicep reassuringly. “I’d just like some candles, if you have any. If we’re going to be travelling again, I’d like to have a little light during the dark hours. Rushlights would also do.”
Cadeyrn smiled, apparently relieved at the simple request. “Wait a moment,” he said, before disappearing into the barn where his dogs had been the night before. When he returned, followed by his excitable hounds, he was grinning.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you better hospitality, Bel,” he said, holding out a lantern to the druid. “Hopefully this will make up for it.”
Bellicus took the proffered item gratefully. It was of a simple design, with a handle at one end, a linen wick at the other, and a hole for olive oil to be added in the middle, but it would be much better than flickering candles or smoky rushlights. He took it with profuse thanks, stowing it in his pack along with a little jar of oil, promising to repay the farmer’s kindness one day.
The sun’s light was just beginning to force its way through the heavy clouds as Bellicus and Duro thanked their host one more time and then started off, Cai trotting at the druid’s side, into the trees that grew close to the farmhouse and stretched for miles to the north and east.
“This really is stupidity,” Duro said as they trudged through the trees, glad for once that it was winter, and the undergrowth wasn’t as full, or as jagged, as it would be in just a few weeks. “Everyone in Dun Breatann knows you and can recognise you on sight. Many of them will know me too. And the fortress is even harder to get inside than Dunadd. Are you going to magic us inside the walls or something?”
Bellicus chewed a piece of bread and glanced at his friend as they walked. “It will seem like that, I expect, to those living there.”
The enigmatic reply didn’t satisfy the centurion, who opened his mouth to demand more from the druid, but then, exasperated, shook his head and continued walking in silence, as if accepting his fate, no matter what it was going to be.
They travelled for a while and Duro was surprised not to see the massive bulk of Dun Breatann until they were almost there, for the land they were walking through appeared to be in a little valley that only opened out around a mile or so away from it. They passed a couple of small villages, but no-one noticed them and, when they came to a river, they walked along the bank until they found a coracle.
“Isn’t there a bridge?” Duro asked, realising his friend planned to cross the fast-flowing river in the small boat. “This is stealing. How will the owner get this back?”
Bellicus raised his eyebrows and climbed into the tiny vessel, coaxing Cai to follow him. The dog was reluctant to leave dry land after their recent voyage from Dalriada, but his master’s command was obeyed soon enough.
“We’re going to save the life of the queen,” Bellicus said, as Duro shoved the coracle into the current and jumped on board, rocking the thing alarmingly. It soon righted itself though, and the centurion used the oars stowed within to propel them across to the opposite bank. “Does it really matter if some fisherman has to find a way to get his boat back?”
“Well, no,” Duro replied sourly. “I’d just rather have walked, since it’s always me that has to do the hard work while you just sit there holding the dog, watching the scenery go by.”
Bellicus grinned and pressed his face affectionately against Cai’s. “Well, you’re much better at rowing than me,” he said. “And we’d be seen if we used the bridge. Think about it – there’ll be traders and other travellers crossing the river all day. That bridge is one of the busiest in Alt Clota.”
It wasn’t a wide river and soon enough they were at the other side, although a fair distance downstream from where they’d started.
“It’s a shame we’re not heading straight for the fortress,” Bellicus said as they climbed out and dragged the coracle up onto the grass so its owner could retrieve it later. “This flows straight to Dun Breatann, so we’d have been at the docks in just a few moments.”
“If we’re not going straight there,” Duro puffed, stretching his back and catching his breath after rowing so hard, “where are we going?”
“This way,” Bellicus replied and, rather to the centurion’s surprise, headed in the direction of the other great volcanic rock in the area – Dun Buic Hill.
It took less than half an hour to reach the foot of the hill, and Duro nodded in recognition. “This is where we came hunting that time,” he said. “Remember? The king was nearly killed by that bear.”
“That’s right,” the druid said. “It was also just a little further along the road that the Saxons abducted Catia and I set out on the journey that would eventually lead me to you.”
“Lucky me,” Duro grunted, shaking his head in amusement. “My life has been so much fun since that day.” His face fell then, as he remembered his wife, and they continued on in silence, Bellicus leading the way up the southern face of the slope.
“Where are we going anyway, by Hades?” the centurion grumbled as they moved upwards. “We’re nowhere near the fortress. Are we hiding out here until nightfall or something?”
Bellicus didn’t reply but after a short time they reached a level section of ground and he led the way ahead. There were animal skulls set atop some rocks here, and strange runes carved into the stones jutting out from the grass.
“What are they there for?” Duro demanded, eyeing his friend warily for it was obvious this area was n
ot supposed to be strayed into.
“To guard against intruders, and nosey locals,” Bellicus confirmed, striding past the magical wards without a care, and why would he? He’d placed them there himself, and he returned there at least once a year, usually more, to make sure they were still there, undisturbed and in good condition. “Don’t worry, you’re safe as long as you’re with me.”
To Duro’s further bemusement, Bellicus stopped and placed his pack on the ground.
“We’ll spend the rest of the day here,” he said. “I’ll go and fetch some firewood, while you start preparing some food for us, eh?” Without waiting for a reply, the druid wandered off, eyes on the ground, searching for dry twigs and branches. Cai lay on the grass beside Duro and watched his master moving about.
Rolling his eyes, the centurion set down his own pack and looked inside it for ingredients. If they were going to be there for the rest of the day – which was a good few hours – he might as well spend some time making the tastiest meal the contents of his pack, and the druid’s pockets of spices, would allow.
Eventually, the two men had a fire going and some hare meat they’d procured back in Auchalic was roasting over it, while Duro was boiling carrots and a little turnip, lightly seasoned with salt and coriander. The smell was delicious, and so was the taste when it was all finally ready to eat without burning their fingers. Cai was given the leftovers, and some bread which was used to soak up the remaining juices in the pan.
Then they sat, backs against smooth boulders, sipping ale happily.
“I suppose I owe you an explanation,” Bellicus finally said, and Duro, quite content after his meal, shrugged.
“If you like,” he replied. “I expect I’ll be finding out your plans soon enough anyway.”
Bellicus looked up at the sky, watching a white cloud, out of place amongst the almost uniform grey of the rest, as it floated past. “What I’m about to tell you must never be repeated to anyone,” he said at last, and his voice held no trace of amusement or jocularity. The druid was deadly serious now, and the centurion nodded agreement, sitting up to concentrate on his friend’s words.
“You can trust me. I know how to keep a secret. Who would I tell anyway – everyone about here wants to arrest us!”
“There,” Bellicus said, pointing to where the hill behind them began to slope again, “is where we will be going.”
Duro frowned.
“Not up the hill,” the druid clarified, seeing the confusion on his companion’s face. “Into the hill.”
A sudden memory of being underground flooded Duro’s mind and he felt a momentary stab of fear. His initiation into the mysteries of Mithras had taken place in a subterranean temple beneath the streets of a Gaulish town, and it had been a frightening experience. Few followed the cult by that point, its exalted status amongst the middle-ranking members of Rome’s legions no longer as pervasive as it had been in previous centuries, but one of Duro’s brother officers was a member and invited him to join.
With an effort, the centurion brought himself back to reality, but the memories of that earlier life made him suddenly feel quite old. “What do you mean, into the hill?” he asked, and his voice was gruff.
“Again, I repeat: You must never speak of what I’m about to tell you, to anyone, other than me. And I mean anyone. Not even another druid, do you understand?”
Duro was quite bemused by his friend’s warnings and the apprehension showed on his face, but he nodded again. “I swear it, Bellicus. By Mithras, you have my word.”
The druid accepted the oath and pointed at the hill again. “There’s a secret tunnel, possibly even more than one, that runs beneath Dun Buic,” he turned and swept his arm towards Dun Breatann in the middle-distance. “It leads right to the fortress.” He held up a hand to forestall the centurion’s disbelief. “Trust me – I’ve walked, or crawled, through it more than once over the years. This is no mere folk tale. The tunnel exists and it will gain us entry to very centre of the Rock, between the two peaks.”
Duro’s eyes traced the land from where they sat enjoying meat and ale, to the west, and the great volcanic plug that was Dun Breatann, and then he grinned.
“That’s incredible,” he said, eyes twinkling like a small boy who’d just been given a new toy. Clearly this fantastical new route into the fortress spoke to the centurion’s sense of adventure. “And it explains why you wanted that lantern.” The excitement faded slightly as he once again traced the route with his eyes and dropped a hand to the hilt of his spatha without noticing he’d done it. “That’s a long way to go in a tunnel though. Crawling, you say?”
“Only in some places,” the druid said reassuringly. “It looks like the roof has almost caved in at some points, and the rubble only partially cleared, so it can get a little tight.” He smiled and patted his stomach. “You’ve lost most of your baker’s fat now though, you’ll be fine.”
“Gods below,” Duro muttered, eyes moving now to the lantern which Bellicus was removing from his pack. “This won’t even make a good tale, since I’m not allowed to tell anyone about it. Why is that anyway? And won’t the opening be guarded within Dun Breatann?”
“No,” Bellicus replied, pouring a small measure of olive oil into the lantern. “You and me are the only two people in Alt Clota, perhaps the whole world, who know of the tunnel’s existence, hence my request that you keep it to yourself. Are you ready to go? Or would you like a few moments to prepare yourself? I know some people get frightened within enclosed spaces…No? Good, come on then.”
He had used a smouldering twig to set alight to the lantern and it was giving off a good yellow flame now. Even to one that didn’t fear the dark, or enclosed spaces, Bellicus knew from past experience that it was a nerve-shredding journey and it might send a man mad if their light died halfway through. “Light one of the candles from our pack,” he ordered Duro, and waited for the centurion to comply. Then they headed for the tunnel, Cai at their backs as ever.
“Will he be alright?”
Bellicus nodded. “Cai has been in with me before. I periodically come through the tunnel, to make sure it’s still useable and to check the magical wards are in place to stop anyone stumbling upon it by accident. Eolas wasn’t so keen,” he said sadly, remembering the lean hound that had been killed the very night Duro had joined him on his quest to rescue Catia. “But Cai…nothing frightens you, does it, lad?” The dog looked up, eyes shining, tongue lolling, and it was as if he was grinning, which made the druid smile in turn.
“If we get lost, I suppose he can lead us out,” Duro said but Bellicus shook his head, bending down to lift a section of turf away from the ground.
“We can’t really get lost – there’s only two ways in or out. The one at Dun Breatann, and this.” The grass peeled back easily, revealing a square flagstone about the length of Duro’s sword, with a mass of woodlice on top, now scrambling for another hiding place. A rope was threaded through the block and the druid pulled it without much effort, raising the stone which was on a hinge of some sort.
A damp smell wafted out from within the darkness and both men turned away, sucking in one last deep breath of fresh air, before Bellicus led the way down the stairs that were carved into the tunnel wall.
“Mithras protect us,” Duro prayed, following the druid and the dog and pulling the flagstone back into position.
“The turf will fall back as well,” Bellicus said, face dim in the lantern’s weak light. “It’s a clever setup, as is the whole tunnel. I’d love to know who built it. Come on.”
As the druid had said, the tunnel was a marvel. The lantern revealed stone walls and a ceiling that Duro thought rivalled any Roman constructions he’d seen on his travels in its engineering, although he didn’t have time to stop and admire it as Bellicus led the way at a steady pace.
Every so often there would some damage to the structure, and Duro wondered aloud just how long ago the tunnel had been dug, and why.
“Questions we will
probably never have answers for,” the druid replied, a little gloomily, for he was just as curious as his friend. “But I know that even our best craftsmen could not do a better job, if they could manage it at all. It’s remarkable.”
“How did you find out about it, if it’s such a secret?”
“My predecessor told me,” Bellicus said. “Before I took over the position of Druid in Dun Breatann there was a wise-woman acting in a similar role. She was old though, and when I visited one day with my mentor, she must have been informed I would replace her when she passed onto the Otherlands. She showed me the entrance to the tunnel and made me swear an oath to tell my own successor about it.”
“Why the secrecy though?” Duro wondered. “If the king knew about this, he might have used it to sally forth when the Picts laid the fortress to siege last summer. Taken them by surprise and crushed them.”
Bellicus shook his head dismissively. “Kings come and go. The tunnel is only to be used in the direst emergencies. If everyone knew about it, it would be misused and, eventually, blocked off.”
Duro wondered why rescuing Narina was such an emergency, but he held his tongue. The druid knew his business and the knowledge of the tunnel’s existence was his to use as he saw fit. Even if he was leading them into a lion’s den…
They continued along in silence then, both men imagining the weight of hundreds of tons of rock and earth pressing down on them, half-fearing the ancient tunnel would choose that day to give way and collapse on top of them. Indeed, in places, some of the stones forming the wall or ceiling had fallen, but they had been cleared by someone – Bellicus did not know who, since it had been before his time – and the shaft seemed to have settled into a steady balance that might last for another thousand years, or perhaps only another hour.
There was little point worrying about it, and the two men simply crawled where the rubble was piled too high, and walked, hunched over, when possible.
At last Bellicus placed a finger to his lips and closed the shutter on the lantern halfway. “We’re almost there,” he said. “I want you to remain at the tunnel entrance with Cai.” He raised a hand, cutting off the centurion’s angry retort. “It will be much easier for me to get into the prison by myself than with the two of you. To be honest, if we’re discovered, that’s the whole thing finished anyway, for I can’t fight my own people.”
Song of the Centurion Page 28