Page 38 of Queen of the Hollow Hills (Eagles and Crows #3)

CHAPTER 37

I n the weeks that followed, I kept my mind on one thing, strengthening the Brigantes in every possible way. I began my quest to solidify the north. My messengers were sent northward, summoning the other kings and queens to a great meeting at Midsummer at Din Eydin, Mael Muire’s capital on the Firth of Forth. I had been clear in my message. Rome had come. While we were far to the north, a long way from Rome’s gaze, we would not remain so for long.

Thus far, my messengers had been met with hesitant acceptance.

To my west, Chieftains Maelgwyn and Aedan worked tirelessly to get the Setantii lands under control and keep the trade routes open. I installed one of Aedan’s retainers, a man named Reed, who was considered loyal and honest by all, as the new chieftain of what was once the Setantii. Never would they be called that again.

And then, I waited.

As I had expected, mere days after the Roman landing, I received the first—but not the last—messenger from the Catuvellauni asking for Brigantes’ aid.

“Queen Cartimandua, King Togodumnus and King Caratacus beseech your help. We must unite to drive the Romans from these lands now before it is too late!” the Catuvellauni messenger cried passionately.

I was seated on my high seat in my formal meeting room.

Behind me, Fabius swallowed a snicker.

While I felt more sympathetic, I watched the man plead with what felt something like detachment.

When he was done delivering his request, I replied, “The Catuvellauni kings did not ask the opinion of the Brigantes when they decided to make war on the Atrebates and Trinovantes. Neither my father nor my grandfather were consulted in such matters. If we had been, we would have advised against it. King Verica and the heirs of Aedd Mawr have the right to reclaim their lands. It is no business of the Brigantes.”

“But, Queen Cartimandua, if the Romans get a foothold on this island, then?—”

“Then your masters are to blame. I will not shed Brigantes’ blood cleaning up your messes. Once again, my answer to Togodumnus and Caratacus is no.”

“What about your ally, King Ord? He, too, is in jeopardy. For King Ord’s sake, you must?—”

“ You will tell me what I must do?”

“My apologies, Queen Cartimandua, it is only?—”

“Have you had any luck convincing the Iceni? The Coritani? How about my dear friends, the Parisii?”

“They all ask first what the Brigantes will do. If you join us, the others will join as well.”

I turned to Conall. “See that he has a hearty meal and ample drink. It is a long way back to Catuvellauni lands.”

“This way, sir,” Conall told him, gesturing for the messenger to follow along.

After he left, I exhaled heavily and then poured myself a drink.

“He is no doubt telling the truth. If the Brigantes joined the battle, the other southern tribes would follow,” Corva said.

“Hmm,” I mused.

“I am not suggesting you join. Only be aware that there is some truth to his words,” Corva replied.

“Won’t this King Ord expect you to help?” Fabius asked.

“I advised King Ord to abandon his Catuvellauni allies and deal with Rome himself. Otherwise, he will bleed.” I sighed. “Verica played the game well. He won the strongest ally in the world to help him take back his seat. He will return to his lands a rich puppet of Rome. But he will return, and he will be king again. The Catuvellauni will eventually lose. Unfortunately, we are already in the game whether we want to be or not. This time, I will choose the path of least bloodshed. After all our losses…” I said, then cleared my throat, pushing my pain away. “I owe it to the Brigantes.”

“I hope you are right,” Corva said, sounding unconvinced.

“Me too. Me too.”

The next few weeks passed, and news began to slowly flood north of Verica’s and Rome’s wins, and of the Cantiaci’s and Catuvellauni’s losses. As the Romans relentlessly attacked the Catuvellauni, they began building in the east. It soon became apparent that Rome would settle in Camulodunum, the seat of the Trinovantes. Walls and buildings were being quickly erected in the ancient town.

Notes came in daily as the Romans began to weave through the south, visiting those southern tribes who had made promises to Caesar.

I stood listening as one of my spies reported all he had learned of Aulus Plautius, the Roman general in charge of the campaign. By all accounts, he was intelligent, well-educated, well-connected, and charming, which I had not expected. “General Vespasian is pressing across the southwest while General Plautius remains east,” the man finished.

Sitting in my chair in my workroom, I tapped the last note I had received against the arm of my chair as I considered.

“My queen?” Corva said.

Shaking my head, I turned back. “Apologies. Thank you.”

Corva walked the messenger to the door, the pair speaking in low tones as he departed. When he was gone, she came and stood before me.

Raising an eyebrow, she gave me a knowing look. “What is on your mind?” she asked.

I smirked.

“Cartimandua?”

I pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to her. “Take a note, please.”

“And who are we writing to?”

“General Aulus Plautius.”

“And why would we do that?”

“To invite him to Rigodonum, of course.”

Corva laughed. “Sure. Why not. And why are we doing that?”

“Because, in battle, sometimes it matters who strikes first,” I told her then turned to Fabius who was admiring some new fabric Hilda had bought for me for a new gown.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Do you think there will be enough here to make me a new robe?”

I studied him briefly, then said, “Grow out your beard and don’t cut your hair again. You must dress as we do when visitors come or when outside of these walls.”

Fabius gasped. “Cartimandua…”

“How much is the price on your head?”

Fabius paused.

“How much? Enough for a messenger who, let’s say, recognizes you from a play you performed in Rome, to report that you’re here? I would be harboring a Roman criminal. And what would Rome do if they learned that?”

“Any excuse,” Corva said.

I nodded. “Any excuse. So, no more fashion for you, my friend.”

“I will not stop taking baths. You cannot make me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, but as attached as I’ve grown to you, I’d rather not go to war on your account.”

“My queen,” he said, bowing with a flourish, then gave the fabric one last, mournful look.

A week later, a rider came from Mydils, breathless and wide-eyed as he reported on the Roman ship that had arrived in port carrying General Aulus Plautius, his attendants, and a large party of armed Roman soldiers.

The general had been greeted at Mydils by Chieftain Brennan, who was escorting the man from the port to Rigodonum.

Despite Corva’s and Conall’s suggestion that I greet the Roman general with my entire army amassed, I did no such thing. I did not call in my banners. I did not assemble my troops. I did nothing but select my most fetching dark blue gown trimmed with stones that shone like stars, affixed my hair beautifully, and had my kitchens prepare a sumptuous meal for my guests.

And I banned Fabius to the kitchens and out of sight, at least until his beard grew out.

For how many years had I played fidchell against Verbia?

I learned that there was no benefit to showing your strategy all at once.

The sound of a horn indicated that the Roman general and his men had finally arrived at the gates of the lower fort. Sitting in the great hall, I listened as horn upon horn sounded, indicating the general’s path northward through the city.

“Are you sure you do not wish to meet him in the courtyard?” Corva asked me for the hundredth time.

I shook my head. “No. Let him come to me.”

I listened to the voices outside. My guards stood straighter and made ready.

Finally, the great hall doors swung open, revealing a metal-bedecked man wearing a red cape, his helmet tucked under his arm.

Bellnorix, be with me.

I rolled my shoulders back and smiled placidly as the hulking man with shaggy brown hair was led into the room.

“General Aulus Plautius,” the footman called.

The general looked me over, a somewhat surprised reaction on his face, then set his hand on his stomach and bowed to me.

“Queen Cartimandua,” he said. “Thank you for your invitation.”

“You are welcome in Rigodonum, General Plautius.”

He smirked. “I believe that is the first genuine welcome I have received since landing here.”

“That tends to happen when one shows up with twenty thousand unexpected guests.”

“That is a very accurate number.”

“I am very adept at mathematics.”

At that, I held the general’s gaze and was pleased to see him chuckle.

The general turned to the man beside him. “My secretary, Narcissus,” he said, gesturing to the dark-skinned man. “Marcus Celerus, Legate, and Titus Carassius, a…friend of our emperor.”

“Priestess Corva,” I said, introducing her. “And Conall, chief of my household guard,” I added, motioning to him.

The general’s gaze shifted to the empty seat beside me. “I must offer my condolences for your recent loss, Queen Cartimandua. Your king consort, Cormag of the Votadini, recently passed.”

“That is correct.”

He nodded in sympathy. “I understand that it was the lead conspirator in the uprising that resulted in your husband’s death who met me at the gate—at least, what is left of her.”

“Like a strawman in a field, General.”

General Plautius held my gaze and then smiled. “Indeed.”

“Will you have some food and wine?” I asked, gesturing to the table. “You and your men have traveled far. Come, rest, and tell me about your journey across Ocean.”

“Wind and waves. My men thought your gods were trying to drown us,” the general said, offering me his hand as he led me to my seat.

“Perhaps they were. But ultimately, we let you get a few leagues further than Caligula.”

At that, the Romans laughed.

“No seashells in our pockets this time,” Legate Celerus told me.

“Pity. They’re so pretty,” I replied.

Aulus chuckled, then gave me a knowing look. He was clearly not under any illusions about me being a pampered princess who only loved pretty things. Perhaps I had ruined that game by leaving Ystradwel to greet him.

The Romans were seated. The general’s men, my warriors, and Chieftain Brennan and his men joined us. Corva stood protectively behind my chair.

During the meal, we made pleasant conversation as the general asked benign questions about the hairy cattle he had seen on the way from the port, commenting on the significant number of sheep that dotted the landscape, and remarking on the mead quality. Down the table, Brennan was careful in his conversation with Titus, who laughed loudly and merrily and drank more than a fish. Brennan kept things light and sidestepped important questions with great acumen.

It was amazing to me the skill with which General Plautius could talk about absolutely nothing while his eyes roamed everywhere, taking in everything.

The conversation turned to libations, the Romans sharing the many different drinks they had discovered as they traveled across the world. In so doing, I discerned what I knew to be true. General Plautius led many successful campaigns in faraway regions of the empire.

“But aren’t the fruits of one’s home always the best tasting?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the general. Fabius had remembered Aulus Plautius. In particular, he recalled that the man owned a vast vineyard.

The general grinned at me, then lifted his goblet and sipped.

“Aulus’s vineyards produce the best wine,” Titus piped in. “I never miss a chance for a dram of that ambrosia.”

“And does your lady wife attend to your vineyard while you are away on campaigns, or does Lady Pomponia stay with her Roman relatives in Rome?” I asked casually, causing the general to sit back in his seat.

He chuckled. “She stays in the city, as you already know.”

I merely smiled at him.

When the meal was done, Conall led the others away, leaving me alone with Corva, a small guard, and the general, the legate, and Aulus’s secretary.

“Now, you must tell us, Queen Cartimandua. In this land where we have received a less-than-warm welcome, why have we been invited to Rigodonum?” Legate Celerus asked.

“I do not recall inviting you at all, Legate. Although, I am glad to make your acquaintance.”

He chuckled. “As we are to make yours. All it takes is a little asking to discover some interesting facts about this island. The Catuvellauni flex their power and usurp their neighbors. Yet, our friend King Verica tells us that the Brigantes are the true power on this island. He spoke highly of your grandfather and father before you. How many subtribes did Verica tell us that the Brigantes swallowed?” Legate Celerus asked Aulus.

“I lost count,” the general replied.

“Many,” I answered.

“So, given your reputation, Aulus and I had to wonder… Didn’t Caratacus and Togodumnus beg your aid? Have they asked you to ride south?”

“They have.”

“But you have not.”

“I am seated here, am I not?”

“Then you are no friend to the Catuvellauni.”

“I am no enemy to the Catuvellauni.”

“And some say you are allied with Cornovii King Ord,” Legate Celerus added, goading me.

“Do they say that? Fascinating.”

“But you did not ride south. That tells me you want something. What is it, Cartimandua, that you want from Rome?” Legate Celerus asked.

“ Queen Cartimandua,” I replied, then looked at Aulus. “Is his mouth always so free?”

“Marcus is a soldier at heart. You must forgive his brashness,” Aulus replied, giving the legate a silencing look.

I rose and then gestured for Aulus Plautius to come with me. He waved for his men to remain where they were. I did the same with Corva, who frowned at me.

“That woman… Is she one of your druids?” Aulus asked.

“You will find no druids in Brigantes territory, General.”

“Meddling sort, aren’t they?”

“They have their own ways. I prefer to make my own choices.”

“No doubt you do.”

We left the great hall, adjourning to one of the small meeting chambers where we were seated.

“It seems you know quite a bit about me, Queen Cartimandua,” Aulus said then looked about the room. “I learned a peculiar story about your family. The tale featured an uncle, a mother, a very compelling skit performed in your hall, and a blood stain on the floor that will not wash away.”

“Is that so?” I asked with a grin. It was not the first time I’d heard the folktale that my mother’s blood forever stained the floors of Rigodonum, a symbol of her guilt. “Perhaps it’s just wine and poor housekeeping.”

Aulus chuckled, then leaned forward and said, “Queen Cartimandua, very soon, Emperor Claudius will arrive in Britannia. When he does, he will summon the kings and queens of this island to meet him and pledge allegiance. As thanks for staying their hands from the conflict, the emperor has authorized me to gift you thirty thousand gold pieces.”

I stared at the general.

“As thanks, of course, for your support of King Verica and Aedd Mawr’s heirs, and to show Rome’s friendship.”

I did not respond.

“Fifty thousand?”

At that, I could not help but laugh. “General, even if you spin that noose from gold and stud it with diamonds, I will not stick my neck within. Were the others stupid enough to agree?”

At that, General Plautius laughed.

“Of course, King Ruith was. How much did you take him for?”

“Ten.”

“Probably could have gotten him for five.”

“I should have asked you before I made the offer. In fairness, you have left him destitute and desperate.”

“True.”

Aulus nodded slowly. “Very well. Come south, Queen Cartimandua, of your own free will. Meet our emperor. When you do, he will know who and what you are.”

“And what am I, exactly, General?”

“You are the stone wall blocking Rome to the north.”

“There, you are mistaken.”

“Am I?”

“I am the stone wall holding back the north. Behind me, General, are dozens of tribes whose names you have never heard and warriors whose ferocity will make your men quake with fear. I am the dam that prevents that tide from flowing south. Make no mistake, twenty thousand Roman soldiers would never be enough to stop that flood. That said, I have no interest in the doings of Rome. As long as Rome remains south, we can trade, talk, and be… at peace.”

“Peace?” the general replied, raising an eyebrow.

I smirked. “What is peace but prelude? How long it lasts is up to the players. But one can live in that state for a very long time. And time is the master who, in the end, wins all. That, and you are very far from home, General Plautius.”

“Yes, I am,” the general replied. “I think we understand one another now, Queen Cartimandua.”

“Agreed.”

“We will see you in Camulodunum?”

I inclined my head to him.

“Then I thank you for your hospitality and ask your leave.”

“Granted.”

I returned with the general to the courtyard. A footman went to summon the others who joined us.

“Chieftain Brennan and his men will see you safely returned to the port at Mydils,” I told the general. “I wish you a safe journey across my lands, General Plautius.”

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Queen Cartimandua,” he replied, bowing to me.

He and the others then mounted.

“Queen Cartimandua,” Legate Celerus said, bowing in his saddle to me, Narcissus and a red-faced Titus doing the same.

I inclined my head to them. “Safe travels, gentlemen.”

Brennan bowed to me, and I signaled for him to ride out.

With that, Brennan and his men led the Romans from the fort.

After they had gone, I climbed the rampart. I watched as they rode through the city, leaving the old section of Rigodonum and down the main thoroughfare through the new city section to the gate.

Corva and Fabius joined me.

Corva looked at me. “Well?”

“Now, we dance or we die.”

“That is an ominous assessment,” Fabius, who was wearing a shawl over his head, said.

“Where Rome walks, cities crumble and kingdoms fall. But not here. Not today. Not as long as I am the queen of these hollow hills.”

But even as I spoke, a cold wind blew from the north, and I heard a whisper riding on it.

“Cartimandua, harden your heart. It is not Rome you must fear.”

Continue the Eagles and Crows series with Queen of Talon and Bone.