Daughters of Fire (51 page)

Medb laughed. Watching him from the homestead in the hills where she had taken shelter, she saw it all. Venutios wanted her.
He wore the brooch which held him to her and he scanned the signs for clues to the whereabouts of the woman who pleased him so much better than did his wife.

He had sent men to track her down when she disappeared from Caer Lugus but she had taken care that they did not find her. Now, as she watched him and listened to the news which spread like wildfire across the fells of the arrival of Caradoc and of the quarrel of Cartimandua and her husband, she changed her mind. It was time to let herself be found.

Beautiful. Seductive. Entrancing. Medb of the White Hands arrived at Dun Righ, veiled and in secret, and was installed in a small guest house on the edge of the township. There she gathered all the things around her that she needed to be comfortable and powerful. The hand of Venutios was sufficient to ensure that she was given anything she asked for and guaranteed her privacy when she walked in the forest at dusk, selecting herbs and stones, leaves and branches, all items of power and magic. It was no time at all before word began to spread amongst the men and women of the town ship that their king had been ensnared by an enchantress. No one dared to tell the queen.

‘What happened up there?’ Peggy had been listening to their conversation as she hung up their waterproofs to drip in the boot room, and when Viv appeared on her own before supper she led her into her small healing room and closed the door behind them. Her face was pale and strained and she sounded abrupt.

Viv eyed her warily. ‘Cartimandua spoke through me in the storm. It was the most amazing experience. And Pat -’ She paused with a shiver. Pat had scared her.

‘And Pat?’ Peggy prompted.

Viv frowned uncomfortably. She glanced up, aware of Peggy’s scrutiny. ‘I’m sorry Pat arrived without warning like that, Peggy. I hope you didn’t mind.’

Peggy shrugged. ‘I don’t want you to take her to the well.’

Viv gazed at her for a moment. ‘Of course not, if you don’t want me to.’

‘You haven’t mentioned it to her?’

‘No.’ Viv thought for a second. ‘No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t.’

Peggy nodded again. ‘It’s not for everybody, Viv. Best keep it that way.’ She shivered.

‘You have reservations about Pat?’ Viv asked cautiously.

Peggy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course I do. And you know as well as I do why.’

‘Supposing you tell me.’

‘She is being overshadowed. By a woman.’

‘And you’ve seen this woman?’ Viv felt a chill run up her spine.

Peggy nodded.

Viv hesitated. ‘She’s called Medb of the White Hands. She was an enemy of Cartimandua. She isn’t - shouldn’t be - in my story. It’s all to do with the Celtic brooch I showed on the TV, the Cartimandua Pin. Touching it seems to release the spirits of the people who once owned it. Cartimandua and Venutios.’ She paused. ‘And Medb.’

‘You should not have brought Pat here,’ Peggy said slowly. ‘You have stirred up memories and resentments from the past between you which are not going to go away. This is a powerful place. A special place. It’s vulnerable. Easily unbalanced. There are energies here which shouldn’t be disturbed, don’t you see? And Pat is making it worse. She’s a loose cannon. She doesn’t understand that she’s playing with powers which are way beyond her. You must stop your research, give up the recording. Forget your play. Cartimandua was a great queen. I honour her, but Medb is evil. I can feel the danger in the air. Read it in the storm. Hear it from the gods. I’ve lived here all my life and I know. The more attention you give folk like Medb, the stronger they grow. Leave it alone now. Get Pat away from here and go. Please.’

‘But Peggy -’

Peggy shook her head. ‘You have to stop.’

‘We can’t do that. It’s too late.’

The truth! They must know the truth!

The words echoed in Viv’s head.

She took a deep breath. ‘We need to know what happened! Cartimandua wants us to know the truth. Why she acted as she did. She wants the world to know she was not a traitor.’

There was a moment’s intense silence.

‘Even if you pay with your lives?’ Peggy asked at last. She spoke very softly.

‘Our lives?’ Viv echoed.

‘Around here, on the fells, on the moors, in the woods and dales, by the becks and waterfalls the old gods still exist. And they still demand their dues.’ Peggy levered herself off the table where she had seated herself and walked to the door. ‘If I were in your shoes, I would go back to Edinburgh and stay there. Forget your play. If you decide to remain here, well, that’s upto you. You are my guests and I’ll not order you out, but don’t expect me to help you.’

‘You don’t mean that, Peggy.’ Viv was frowning. ‘Please. You showed me the well yourself.’

‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ Peggy shook her head. She opened the door, then she turned and looked back at Viv with a frown. ‘The gods of these hills demand heavy dues. Remember that. You’ll get your programme if you persist. But will the price be too high?’

The rain had released a thousand scents into the air. Standing at the back door Pat was staring out into the garden. Fumbling in her pocket she brought out her cigarettes. Exhaling smoke out into the rain she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drawing the nicotine down into her lungs. The bloody woman had been inside her head. Taken her over. Used her mouth. Her brain. She leaned against the doorpost, unsure if she was more angry or frightened. Or maybe she should just be excited, like Viv. Was she a medium? Some kind of spiritualist? She took another draw at the cigarette.

‘Are you all right there?’ Peggy had walked into the kitchen behind her.

Pat jumped guiltily. ‘I’m sorry. I needed a cigarette.’ She flung it down on the wet flagstones and stepped on it, then she turned. Peggy was holding an armful of neatly folded towels. She put them down on the end of the table as Pat came back inside, closing the door on the rain.

‘Did Viv tell you about our contact with the dear departed?’ She gave a sharp little laugh. ‘I’m not sure how to react. I’m indignant. Cross. Frightened. Excited. Viv is very excited. For her this is historical research of the most unbelievable kind.’ She sat down at the table, running her fingers through her hair. ‘Where is Viv?’

‘She’s gone upstairs.’ Peggy sat down opposite her. She eyed Pat. ‘We need to talk. I’ve told Viv that I think you should both go.’

Pat tensed. ‘Because of what happened to me?’

‘Because of what’s happened to both of you.’ Peggy nodded. She reached for a bottle and two glasses from the dresser. ‘But you in particular. The lady in question - the lady who spoke through you - I’m not going to mention her name and give her any more strength than she has already. She’s very powerful. Viv told me about the brooch and that she’s contacted you before. Coming here has made it easier for her. You are thinking about her in a place where her spirit feels it still has work to do and it’s made her stronger. I can feel her now, too, and I don’t want to.’ Peggy shook her head adamantly. ‘The old folk are everywhere on these fells. I do what has to be done to appease their gods and their shades. I can’t do any more than that; I don’t want people here who are going to do the opposite.’

Pat picked up a glass. The drink was homemade and rich and sweet and very potent.

Peggy frowned. ‘You have presented her with an empty vessel to fill as she sees fit.’ Somehow it did not sound like a compliment.

‘How do you know all this stuff?’ Pat asked at last. ‘Can you see her?’

Peggy nodded. ‘I can see her. She’s following you.’

‘Christ!’ Pat gulped. ‘Can you get rid of her?’ She found she was shivering suddenly.

‘I doubt it.’ Peggy stood up and, walking over to the Aga, reached for her oven gloves. ‘Better if you go.’

‘We can’t go. We have to finish. Give us a bit more time. Just a couple of days. Please.’ Pat sighed, elbows on the table, chin on interlinked fingers staring down into the glass. She could feel Medb stirring inside her head and she shifted uneasily in her seat. ‘Could you do something about the brooch, Peggy? De-activate it, or remove its power?’

‘The brooch?’

‘You said Viv told you about it. She’s brought it here.’

Peggy stared at her, appalled. ‘Sweet Lady!’ She closed her eyes.

‘No, you don’t understand, Medb won’t hurt anyone.’ Suddenly Pat was her apologist again. ‘She just wants her story told, as Cartimandua does. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m sure there isn’t. It was a shock when it happened to me, I admit it, but that’s all.’ She shook her head earnestly. ‘If I promise to control her, won’t that make it all right? I can do that. I’m sure I can.’ She paused, studying Peggy’s face.

That wasn’t quite true, she realised uncomfortably. What about what had happened just now. In the bath. Unable to bear Peggy’s close scrutiny for a moment longer she stood up abruptly. ‘I’ll go and change for supper and we can discuss it with Viv when she comes down.’

Peggy watched her disappear into the hall. She sighed. Stupid woman. Was she really that naïve? Medb had returned for one reason only. Revenge.

‘I want to know what happens next and I want you to monitor it, so that we don’t miss anything,’ Viv said. Steve had not appeared for supper and she and Pat had reconvened later in her bedroom. As Pat was here, she might as well make use of her. Viv glanced at her, firmly suppressing any doubts she might feel about trusting her. ‘I want you to ask me questions. Guide what I’m saying.’

Pat eyed her doubtfully. ‘I don’t think we should. I’m scared. Peggy can see Medb, Viv. She’s afraid of her and so am I! I don’t want to risk her coming back.’

‘We won’t let her. This is about Cartimandua.’ Viv pushed open the windows, The sharp scents of peat and grass and sheep and the sweet overlay of honeysuckle and roses drifted into the room. She stared out briefly at the mist shrouded height above them. The brooding silence of the hill top was overwhelming. She stifled her momentary fear and turned to face Pat. ‘Let’s do it. Peggy won’t know and I have to find out what happens.’

‘What about Medb?’

Viv shook her head. ‘Forget Medb. This isn’t her story.’

‘I think you’ll find it is. Medb came here to Dun Righ.’

Viv frowned. ‘She can’t have!’ She didn’t want to hear this. She was biting down on her fear, concentrating on Carta.

‘She did. I don’t think she’s a very nice person, Viv. I don’t want to get involved.’

‘Then don’t. Refuse to listen.’

‘Easier said than done. Peggy thinks she’s dangerous.’

‘She told you that?’

Pat nodded. ‘And I told her about the brooch, Viv. You shouldn’t have brought it here. Why did you? Is it somewhere safe?’

Viv nodded.

‘Just don’t tell me where, OK?’ Pat sighed and reached into her bag for the voice recorder, setting it on the sill and pinning the mike to Viv’s shirt as she sat on the window seat. Then she went and switched off the light. She had a bad feeling about this.

The room grew damp and cold as the night air seeped into the open window.

‘Carta?’ Pat’s voice was husky suddenly. ‘Are you there? Talk to me.’

Somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

Venutios was white with anger. He strode up and down the chamber several times before coming to a halt in front of his wife. ‘There is still time to release him. You can still save the day.’

‘No.’ She looked up at him wearily. ‘I have made my decision. I do not want to discuss this any further.’

‘But I do!’ He seized her wrists and pulled her to her feet. ‘You cannot allow him to be taken! You cannot do this!’ Beside her the two dogs were growling. Venutios ignored them.

‘Let me go!’ She did not flinch. ‘If you touch me again I will call my guards.’

‘Your guards!’ His tone was scornful. He released her and moved away from her. ‘Your guards, trained by me. Loyal to me, if truth were known!’ He folded his arms and stood facing her. ‘Are you going to put their loyalty to the test?’

She drew herself upright, then unexpectedly doubled over with a groan.

He frowned, taken aback. ‘What is it? Are you ill?’

She nodded. ‘Call Mairghread. I’m sick.’ Her face had grown hot and clammy. The walls were spinning before her eyes.

Venutios strode from the room. When Mairghread appeared he did not follow her.

‘You know what is wrong, of course.’ Mairghread sponged her forehead gently.

‘I’ve eaten something bad.’ Carta lay back on her bed with a groan.

‘You’re breeding at last.’ Mairghread smiled. ‘About time, too.
That will distract you from politics, my lady, and remind you of your duties as queen.’

‘My duties as queen,’ Carta repeated slowly. ‘You dare to tell me my duties as queen! Perhaps I had better instruct you. My duties are to my people.’ She put her arm across her eyes. ‘I am bound to do the best I can for them. And you’re wrong. I am not with child. I can’t be.’

She had made sure of that. Or had she? She frowned. The day Caradoc arrived Venutios had come to her room and forced himself on her. She had not been expecting him that night. She had not used the herbs which would prevent a man’s seed implanting.

‘The gods make their own decisions, lady.’ Mairghread had been watching her closely, seeing the various expressions fleetingly written on the queen’s face. ‘Perhaps they do it to remind you of your place as their representative and the protector of their wishes.’ She pursed her lips primly.

‘Don’t presume to criticise me!’ Carta did not move her arm from her eyes. ‘You understand nothing of my decisions.’ With a groan she rolled over onto her side. ‘I have eaten bad meat, that is all. Bring me some snakeweed steeped in hot water. It will settle my stomach.’

Venutios strode back into the room as she finished the drink. ‘So, is it true? Are you with child?’

‘No.’ Mairghread hadn’t taken long to allow that little piece of speculation loose on the township. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she stood up wearily. ‘Do not even hope for it.’

‘Then perhaps I had better replant my seed.’ He reached for her. ‘A child would no doubt distract you.’

‘Don’t touch me!’ She pushed him violently as he tried to grab her wrist. Off balance, he stepped back. His face darkened. Furious, he made a second grab for her and she countered with a stinging slap. Sun and Moon edged closer to her protectively, growling furiously at him and cursing loudly. Venutios aimed a kick at them.

Outside the room Mairghread stood, uncertain whether or not to go in. Her nerve failed her and she turned away from the door.

The next morning there was no sign of Venutios. He had ridden out before dawn. When the queen appeared a swollen bruise had shadowed her cheekbone below her left eye.

*

Her sickness passed as quickly as it had come, but as she donned her finery to greet the Roman escort sent to collect Caradoc, two weeks later, her face was grim. One by one she drew on the golden armlets, the torc, fastened the brooches to her finest gown and mantle, then she went to stand in the council chamber amongst her men. All the senior Druids were there and all the Brigantian kings save one. She looked around, her eyes narrowed, as from the watch tower a bronze horn announced the arrival of the Romans.

‘Is any one here going to defy me and argue against handing over Caradoc?’ One by one she scanned their faces. One by one the men looked away. Many were uneasy; none defied her.

At the head of the deputation was the military tribune of the XX legion, Gaius Flavius Cerialis. He saluted with outstretched hand, his face grave. ‘The governor sends his greetings, great queen. He has told me to thank you personally for your loyalty. It will be well rewarded.’

She bowed. As they waited for Caradoc, Artgenos on one side, her brothers, Fintan and Bran on the other, her warriors and her advisers forming a sullen ring around them, Carta saw Gaius move uncomfortably from foot to foot. Drawing himself up stiffly he squared his shoulders, distracting himself by looking away from the men around him, scanning the building. She watched him surreptitiously, following his gaze, trying to see the huge room as he did, comparing its comfort and richness perhaps to the austerity of his barracks. The great chamber smelled of woodsmoke and scented herbs and the flowers which stood near them in silver jugs. Under their feet lay a woven rug, another lay across her seat. Everywhere the colours of the tartans and curled designs that he would have seen before perhaps in the houses of the Keltoi in Gaul brought life to the dimness of the interior of the house. She could see that he was, however reluctantly, impressed and she suspected that the feeling did not change when Caradoc was brought in. His wrists were chained, but she had given orders that as always he be treated with courtesy and honour by the guards who escorted him, orders which were, she knew, superfluous. Everyone at Dun Righ respected and admired this man.

He was brought to a halt in front of the Roman and he gave a small bow, acknowledging defeat but losing none of his dignity by the action. He was a man who would never beg for his life. Carta, watching intently, bit her lip as she saw Gaius bow back. These
were two soldiers, summing one another up, man to man. She saw their mutual respect and for a moment she felt excluded by it. Suddenly she was full of doubts.

‘Prince Caradoc has been wounded. He is not yet fit to travel with you,’ she said to Gaius abruptly. ‘Your men may wait outside the walls, Gaius Flavius Cerialis.’

She toyed with his name as though it were an exotic trifle and she saw him raise an eyebrow. She had not realised that it might occur to him that she found him as strange and exciting as he probably found her and there was a challenge in her glance as she addressed him. ‘You and your officers will remain as our guests until the Prince has recovered sufficiently to ride.’

She saw that Gaius noticed the sudden light of hope on Caradoc’s face and saw his wry inward chuckle as he realised that, sadly for the prisoner, the game, if it was a game she was playing, was with him, not with her cousin. If she wanted to keep the Romans dangling so be it. He was in no hurry. If she wanted to trifle with him for a few days then he would be happy to oblige. More than happy. Poor Caradoc. It merely prolonged the man’s suffering.

Carta met the Roman’s eyes. This man was sensitive and intelligent; he was observant. Her thoughts had been carefully guarded as she exchanged glances with him but it occurred to her suddenly now that he understood her far better than she had realised. The thought was not reassuring.

Pat couldn’t sleep when she returned to her room. She showered and put on her pyjamas, then she sat for a while in the lamplight, staring at her laptop, the recording equipment and a pile of books and papers on the table near her. They were making progress. Viv’s recording had been fantastic. There would easily be enough material for at least two programmes.

About Medb …

She stiffened. No. Not about Medb. She did not want to think about Medb.

She stood up abruptly. ‘Go away!’

The sound of her own voice in the silence was unnerving.

She held her breath, listening.

The house was quiet, the night very still outside the window. She glanced round the room suspiciously. Had something changed? She thought she could feel a presence there in the shadows, watching. ‘Go away!’ she said again, more loudly this time. ‘I am not listening!’

Oh God, someone was laughing. A quiet chuckle. A cynical, evil, female chuckle. It was the most frightening thing she had ever heard. She took two steps backwards and stood, her back to the wall, staring round the room again. There was no one there. The room was small, low-ceilinged, pretty. Furnished with chintzy prints and dried flowers, with a small armchair, a dressing table, a writing table in the window, the table where all her notebooks were stacked, a cupboard and the stand on which she had put her large scarlet holdall. There was nowhere to hide. Taking a deep breath she tiptoed towards the cupboard and after a moment’s hesitation she dragged the door open. It was empty except for her own clothes and a folded down ironing board. She slammed it shut again and spun round.

‘OK, lady. Listen. I am not getting involved in this. This play is only a job!’ Her fists clenched, she took another deep breath. ‘Do you hear me? I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be involved in your nasty vicious little schemes. Count me out.’

She walked over to the door and flicked the switch, throwing the light of the central hanging lampover the room. It was dazzling after the low light of the lampin the corner. Blinking, she surveyed the scene again. She was still standing there when both lights suddenly went out.

‘Shit!’

She licked her lips nervously. Don’t be frightened. She had overloaded some ancient circuit by turning them both on together. This wasn’t sinister. There was a scented candle in a pretty dish on the writing table. All she had to do was find her lighter. Her bag. Where had she left her bag?

She groped her way towards the window and drew back the curtains. The room filled with moonlight suddenly and with a sigh of relief she turned.

Medb was standing right behind her.