by Scott Hurst
Max shared a silent glance with Salvius, who shook his head in despair. ‘Is this it, the glory of the Catuvellauni? What’s next, a squalid little lynching?’
Max could barely answer.
*****
Max refused to ask his exhausted cavalry to ride back to Verulamium that night. They made camp and having made sure every man had eaten and that their encampment was well guarded he went off by himself for a while, needing solitude and reflection. Lying back on a grassy hillside he looked up at the sky above him. He sought out now the constellations, as his father had taught him to. High overhead, over the horizon, were the pairs of stars that formed the Bear – ursus major. As always it dominated the heavens, the largest constellation he could see. He traced the rump in its tail, its shoulder, the tip of its nose. Always there, never changing, ears and paws up high, as if the bear was walking in the heavens.
The bear represented power. But what was power? Power, if it meant anything at all, surely meant justice, fairness, integrity. His men had not shown those qualities today. Was this how it was in the days of Caratacus? Or was this what Paulinus had been warning him about, this contagion of cruelty? Right or might, the old monk had challenged him. How could this senseless life-taking be right? From now on he would swear his men to those principles. Those old farmers would have that legacy at least. This was the last time any of his men acted that way.
Rising, Max discovered Dye had left before dawn, leaving a message that he would meet him back in Verulamium. All the better. Now he could tear strips off the men undisturbed. Let no man return home believing there would be such senseless cruelty in his army.
Perhaps thinking Maximus needed all the help he could get, word had escaped, through Salvius, of the miracle of his encounter with the bear. A rumour had begun among his men that in freeing the bear he had been given a blessing. The bear had paid him homage. God had destined Max to become a great leader. Part of him hated to have that moment in the forest sullied by such fantasy, yet it seemed to have brought him a new respect. He decided to tolerate it for now.
*****
Reaching home after a hard ride, Max disbanded the men, warning them to be ready for action at any time. Leaving Zephyr in the care of the ostiarius he hurried to see his father.
The news was not good. ‘Our northern militiamen caught a group of Corieltauvi near Durobrivae.’ Severus spoke quietly, but the strain on him was clear to see. ‘They claimed to be traders, but carried no goods. Two of them wore military belts adorned with the Corieltaucian Raven symbol. Our men believe they were reconnoitring for an attack. We also await news of Saxon raiders, seen off the Trinovantian coast. We don’t yet know if they will land on our territory or sail on to raid elsewhere.’ Severus drew himself up. ‘Most pressing of all, we have news that General Gerontius will visit us tomorrow. He would discuss an urgent matter with us.’
Astonished, Max peeled angry eyes off Dye. ‘General Gerontius? Emperor Constantine’s right hand man? Has he said why?’
Max’s thoughts began churning. This did not bode well. Constantine had rallied the remaining troops in Britain and led them across the Channel into Gaul, setting himself up as Emperor in his turn. Somehow he’d managed to extend his power as far as Iberia. Gerontius, as his second in command, was a man of great power.
Severus shook his head warily. ‘He’s in Britain to rally support and raise more troops for Constantine’s effort to oust Emperor Honorius. I have said before that the Catuvellauni will send a contingent to help him. Whatever happens with the Dobunni, it is vital we honour that commitment.’
Max wiped his hands over his face, forcing his tired to brain to think. With all the threats facing the tribe, this was the last thing they needed.
Max exhaled wearily, ‘Father, I know you have more faith in Constantine’s expedition than Paulinus does, but do we not have enough problems here in Britain to deal with, without seeking to sort out the new Emperor’s problems too?’
Severus looked suddenly exhausted. ‘My son, you may be right, but if Catuvellaunian troops enter Rome at Constantine’s side, this tribe has the chance to be a power not just in this island, but across the world. If Gerontius is choosing to visit us his reason must be important indeed.’ Deep furrows lined Severus’s forehead. ‘Whatever has been between you and Dye since your return, make peace. The last thing I want Gerontius to see is my two sons at each other’s throats. We must show him we stand united. Now leave me. I have thinking to do.’
Outside in the courtyard Paulinus was waiting for Max. ‘It’s a blessing you have returned,’ he said quietly, ‘We could not have delayed much longer. We bury Decentius this evening.’
Guilt attacked Max afresh. He ran his hands over his face. Paulinus put his arm around his shoulder. ‘My poor boy. It is a terrible, terrible thing to lose a friend,’ he sighed. ‘But another man’s life is in danger right now. Here in this house.’
Max pulled his shoulders back. He was a Vellaunus, of royal blood. ‘Who is in danger, Paulinus?’
The monk lowered his voice. ‘The Egyptian, Heru. He has been caught cheating Calista, by selling her jewellery made of false metal. She has him prisoner, intent on punishing him for his betrayal. We both know how cruel she can be.’
Max was confused. ‘If he has cheated her she should turn him over to the Roman magistrates. What would you have me do? If the man has taken money from her falsely…?’
There was a guarded look in Paulinus’ eyes Max thought strange. ‘There is a …connection…between Heru and I, Max, which I have no time to go into now. Know only that I am responsible for him to some degree. Whatever Calista has in mind for him I doubt it is intended for his well-being. ’
*****
As they approached the stables where Heru was being held Max could hear the sound of whipping. A man’s voice cried out in agony. Calista’s voice rose above it. ‘Tell me where it is, or I’ll have you whipped until the flesh falls off your back.’
Max ran the final few paces.
Calista was screaming now. ‘Must I can find a more painful way of loosening that lying tongue of yours? One way or the other, the Great Torc of the Rex Britannorum will be mine.’
Hand on the stable door, Max stopped short as if punched. Great Torc? Did she mean the Torc of Caratacus? He looked across at Paulinus who made to move forward. Max put a hand to his arm and held a finger up to his lips. Calista’s voice rose to a fever pitch of anger. ‘Tell me, you thieving scum! Where is the Great Torc?’ They heard the rapid sound of blows administered by the whip. Heru screamed; his pleas incoherent now.
Paulinus pushed forward. ‘She’ll kill him.’ Rushing into the stable they found Heru lashed to a post, his back sliced open. Calista stood between two slaves, rivulets of sweat running down her breasts. It was she holding the whip. Seeing Max she beckoned him in. ‘Come and join us, Max. I tire.’
The little Egyptian, still tied to the post, had fallen to his knees, his shaven head lolling against the blood soaked straw.
‘Cut him free!’ Max ordered. ‘This instant!’
Calista raised her chin, defiant. ‘The man has cheated me and I intend to make him pay for it. You’re not doing the stinking little tomb ghoul any favours, prolonging his pain. Let me get on with it.’
Max raised an eyebrow. ‘Cheating you is no excuse for this cruelty. You’re torturing him for the whereabouts of the Great Torc of Caratacus.’
Calista laughed uneasily. ‘Don’t be absurd, that’s a myth.’
Max looked at her, hard. ‘Calista, the Dobunni in Corinium probably heard you screaming its name.’
Found out, she went on the attack. ‘Now I have to worry about spies snooping around my own home.’ Turning on her heel, she swept past him, followed by her two slaves. Max knelt beside Heru. The man’s back was in tatters.
Paulinus called Felix. ‘Have him cleaned and dress his wounds.’ Until he came back to consciousness, there was nothing more to do.
*****
; ‘Out with it Paulinus, I insist on knowing what’s going on.’ Max had had enough of silence and unspoken truths.
‘The last time I saw Heru, he was a baby. I’d been a soldier for years when I was sent to Alexandria. Arius had been exiled long before, after the Council of Nicaea condemned his teaching as heresy. But he’d developed a following, one that almost took over the church. Even all those years later there were remnants of Arian believers there. We had a ‘crack down’, our leaders inciting us to wipe out this ‘filth’. We were taught these people were dangerous, inferior minorities, Maximus, heretics who had to be stamped out.’ For long moments Paulinus held silence. ‘I had no heart for it. Even then, before I became a monk, I knew it was wrong. The Arians were Christians like us, though misguided. I avoided duty on the killing squads whenever possible. But one day there was no getting out of it.’ Paulinus’s wrung his hands.
‘I found Heru in an empty house, half dead. He was just a baby, Maximus. I heard squalling, and there he was, lying there under an overturned bed. A tiny infant, like those we saw at the farm. From that moment something changed in me. I didn’t think about the consequences. I left my post, though I could have been done for desertion, with the child under my cloak.’ There was pride in his voice now. ‘In Alexandria I found a merchant family, good Christians. The mother was the best of people, soft-spoken, devout. She and her husband promised to adopt him. For my part I promised to send money. For a few siliquae a month he could have a better life. And I was true to that promise.’
It was all becoming clear now. ‘So when Heru was on the run, he came here, sought you out?’
Paulinus nodded. ‘I hadn’t seen him in twenty-five years. He turned up at the chapel looking for his ‘benefactor’, scared witless, a stranger in a strange land.’ Paulinus shook his head, disbelievingly. ‘Can you imagine my astonishment, Max, that the baby I had saved should have turned back to his Arian roots?’
‘Which meant you, a priest, couldn’t harbour him, a heretic?’
Paulinus nodded, glad of the understanding. ‘But your dear mother offered him shelter. Just as I had offered shelter to her son.’
Max had been restraining himself, out of respect for Paulinus, but now he could do so no longer, ‘But what of the Great Torc of Caratacus? Tell me what you know!’
There was a knock on the door. Felix interrupted them. ‘Master, Heru sends word. He would speak to you both.’
The old priest stared at his protégé. ‘Heru can tell you more than I.’
Max and Paulinus made for Heru’s room, one of the humbler guest rooms in the villa. It was in near darkness, save for candlelight. Without his strange eye markings, the Egyptian looked much like any other man, only his dark eyebrows and angular features showing his heritage. Taking the stool next to the low bed Max waved away his gratitude. But Heru was adamant. ‘I had thought, thanks to your mother’s kindness, to have found a safe haven here, for a while at least. But for you, Calista would have killed me, Maximus.’ Pale and drawn as he was, there was no doubting his sincerity. ‘I will never be able to repay you fully, but perhaps the information Calista sought would go some way to repay my debt?’
Information about the Torc?
Max felt his heart go still. Had this man any idea what he was offering him? The tribe was about to be caught up in a spiral of power and control, death and destruction, where only the fittest would survive. To return the Torc to its rightful place was to give the tribe a sense of hope so great they would never be conquered again. Breathing painfully, so precious was that hope, he spoke slowly. ‘You know where the Great Torc is?’
The Egyptian winced, trying to get comfortable in his pain. Max held his breath till finally Heru began speaking again. ‘The Torc went with Caratacus to Rome. Claudius lodged it there, in the Temple of Victory on the Palatine Hill. When Theodosius came to power and was so against the pagans, the Torc was hidden - by some of the Emperor’s men who were still heathen. Greed finally made them sell it, to a family of Egyptian goldsmiths…my family.’ Despite his pain, it was clear Heru relished telling the story. ‘My father immediately recognized the Torc as a powerful symbol. We cherished your Torc, kept it safe for many years. Until the arrival of our new military governor, an officer by the name of Tacitus, who had a personal hatred of all Arians. Under him, after many years of peace, we suffered another wave of persecution.’
Max kept silent.
‘Tacitus promised he would save us from death, in return for gold. Our leaders,’ the Egyptian shrugged eloquently, ‘…had no choice. Together we assembled a substantial treasure. But we were determined to protect the Great Torc. ’ Heru’s eyes gleamed in the darkness.
‘Tacitus betrayed us. He had us destroyed.’ For a moment Heru was lost, remembering the pain of the past. ‘His treachery almost wiped out our community. Only a handful of us escaped, among us our priest. We took with us a small horde of precious stones and artefacts – including the Torc. But further disaster befell us. Our ship was scuttled off the coast of Massilia, and the treasure lost. I believed it gone forever, but recently an Arian brother sent word to me.’ He leaned towards Maximus, his excitement obvious. ‘The Torc is in the hands of a sect, the Sol Invictus, heretic sun worshipers. The very men who saved us when our ship was wrecked! We trusted them. And now I discover they betrayed us, taking the Torc for themselves. No wonder – by then they had heard the stories, how the Torc was made from the Spear of Lug, the old British sun god, or the story that it is made from the spear that pierced Christ’s side…they were determined to have it for themselves.’
Paulinus too leant forward. ‘Sol Invictus. The Unconquered Sun. They were a major cult many years ago. Even some emperors were worshippers. But after the Empire saw the true light of Christ they went underground. Still they confuse the Sun God with the Light of Christ who conquers the power of darkness. I had hoped we’d seen an end to these secret communities – but like the Dobunni tribe with their bear cult, people need answers. In these dark times worship of the Sun God would make sense to peoples in crisis. A visible God, everywhere present. I can understand why the outlawed Sol Invictus would covet the Great Torc. You say you know where to find it, Heru?’
Max’s heart was beating so hard, he wondered the others couldn’t hear it.
‘The sect had made one of their temples in an abandoned stone mine outside Massilia, far from the view of the authorities and the Church. It was my plan to make enough money to go back and retrieve it.’
‘Which is why you cheated Calista.’ Max understood now.
Heru nodded, regretfully. ‘But your mother’s kindness, the way you saved my life today…I have changed my mind. I believe we were punished, Maximus. Our efforts to keep the Torc cursed us – I will be glad to know it is back with its rightful owner.’ His dark eyes gleamed. ‘And that my people will be safe from its influence from now on.’ From under his bedclothes Heru held out a rough parchment. ‘Here. I have drawn you a map. You can use to locate the village in southern Gaul where the Torc is hidden. I give you it to you in gratitude for my life.’
Trembling, Max took the precious parchment. He looked at Paulinus in wonder.
The longing he’d always had, the longing to be the saviour of his tribe, drummed in his blood… in his hands he held the means of finding the Torc of Caratacus.
*****
All through the twelfth hour Max had stared at Decentius’s cold, dead face, questions pulling at the raw wound of his grief. Why did such a good man have to die? For the thousandth time he went over his decision to flee Guidolin’s fort that night. Had he been right? Had Sabrina’s warning saved all their lives? Leaning forward he cradled his face in his hands.
Slowly he became aware of a subtle companionship. Turning he saw Sabrina standing in the doorway, her body silhouetted against the light. ‘I’ll come back later,’ she whispered.
Max shook his head silently and gestured her into the room. Kneeling in the gloom, flickering lamplight picking out the det
ails of her face, she prayed a while.
He had to share his guilt with someone. His voice broke the silence. ‘It’s my fault.’
She came to him. Her face was full of sadness. But her blue eyes were honest when she said, ‘I told you the truth that night, Maximus, never doubt it. If we had not left as we did, your tribe would be mourning many others this night.’
At Guidolin’s fort he had believed her. The more he looked into those beautiful eyes the more convinced he was that she was telling the truth. For long minutes she sat there with him, her hand comforting in his.
She’d never know how grateful he was for that kindness.
*****
Leaving Verulamium they walked the short distance to the small shrine of St. Alban where Decentius was to be buried. Birds circled overhead, accompanying the mourners to the burial ground. The shrine was small and simple, its pale walls and ochre tiled roof covering the site where the saint’s body lay.
At the graveside Calista stared at Sabrina. ‘What’s she doing here?’ she hissed.
Max addressed her coldly. ‘She’s here because I want her here.’
Salvius was at his side. ‘Don’t allow her to upset you, Arcturus.’
Arcturus, Bear Protector. Salvius had used the nickname ever since the night he’d freed the bear. Ever since the night of Decentius’s death. It had a bitter sweet meaning for him. He hadn’t been able to protect Decentius that night, but the name had given him a new sense of himself. Now, more than ever, it was his destiny to protect those he loved. Reaching up he fingered the bear noose he now wore around his arm as an amulet.