Mortuus Virgo (30 page)

‘Back to the church of St Giles,’ said Brandon. ‘No more pussyfooting around, I want to ask the priest some straight questions. I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.’ He left India’s room and made his way down the corridor to his own room. As soon as the door was shut, he felt his phone vibrated and he opened up unread message. It said simply,
‘Call in!
’

‘
What?
’ asked Brandon incredulously, ‘Why on earth would they call us off?’

‘Don’t know,’ came the answer, ‘The official take is it’s getting too expensive, but off the record the feeling is the girl is probably dead already.’

‘The word is, the instruction came from the very top. Intelligence says the kidnappers probably realised they were in deep shit, topped her and gone to ground. The police will continue with the investigation but all special forces have been stood down, and that, my friend, includes you,’

‘This is bollocks,’ said Brandon, ‘Just as I seem to be making some progress, the gig is cancelled.’

‘Orders are, if you have anything solid, to hand it over to Scotland Yard. Sorry, mate, it’s over. Close all your leads and make your way back to Stirling for debrief.’

The phone went dead and Brandon let himself fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in frustration. The situation spun around his head over and over. India would be devastated, though truth be told, sometimes it was difficult to differentiate between the hunt for the girl and the hunt for the Palladium. He knew India felt they were intertwined but he was not so sure. Eventually he sat up. It didn’t matter anymore. He would pass everything over to the police, and India could carry on with her treasure hunt.

At last he stood up and threw his bag onto the bed. He would break the news to India downstairs and arrange some transport. In the meantime, he had to pack. It was over!

----

Chapter 24

Off the coast of Britannia, 64AD

Rubria woke to the sound of voices up on deck. They had been at sea for over two months, hugging the coastline, and spending the nights moored in friendly ports along the Gallic shore. Often they were forced to spend days at a time lying up to avoid the changeable Atlantic weather, but despite this, Rubria had not once left the safety and anonymity of the ship.

At last the journey was coming to an end and the ship neared the coastline of Britannia. She wrapped herself in the rough cape Rose had managed to buy in one of the many nameless ports en-route and climbed the ladder to join the others on deck.

She pulled the cape tighter as the bracing wind swept over the timber decks, making her shiver in the unfamiliar low temperatures. For a moment she paused, taking in the scene around her. The day was overcast and damp, yet in the distance she could see a coastline looming out of the mist. Some of the crew were lined up staring at the approaching landfall they had travelled so far to see. She approached the familiar shapes of two fellow travellers amongst the small crowd.

‘It is,’ he said, ‘But not all the time. For a few months a year she sheds the greyness of winter and the clime matches that of Rome in spring.’

‘I don’t know, Priestess,’ he answered with a sigh, ‘But there is something here that gets under the skin. The people are proud, and often brutal, but despite what you hear, they are not barbaric.’

‘The sailors say the people here send their children to fight their battles,’ said Rose.

‘It is true that every member of the tribe fights to the death when threatened by our fist, but that is the way of many peoples if their way of life is threatened. Pay no attention to the tales of sailors. They have little other use of their time but to make up stories to impress.’

‘You have some sympathy for the heathen,’ said Rubria in mild surprise.

The last time I was here I fought under the Eagle of Plautius,’ said Dragus, ‘Many Celts fell at the end of my Gladius and I shed no tears for them. However, throughout my five years here, I realised they are a proud people trying to resist invasion and occupation, a sentiment I admire. I do not offer sympathy, Priestess but respect. It is a very spiritual place and though they worship different gods, I am sure you will be impressed by their spirituality.’

‘Do they worship the Goddess?’ asked Rubria.

‘I saw no such tribute during my tour, but it does not mean she is not here,’ answered Dragus, ‘Most of my time was behind the palisades of the legions or on campaign.’

‘Our time at sea gave me time to think,’ said Rubria. ‘I cannot return the Palladium to the Temple of Vesta while Nero holds Rome beneath his heel. If the Gods will it, the people will see him for the tyrant he is and cast him at Pluto’s feet. Until that time I am forced to stay away from my home but it is a burden I will gladly bear in the name of the Goddess. However, I will not hide her glory away from the eyes of the undeserving. I will carry out my calling and educate these poor people in her grace.’

‘Rubria, we are fugitives from Nero’s justice,’ said Dragus in disbelief, ‘You cannot draw attention to yourself, even this far from Rome. When word of your flight reaches the Governor, as it probably will, he cannot suspect that you are within his jurisdiction.’

‘Am I not a Priestess of Vesta?’ asked Rubria, ‘Even out here that will carry weight with any of noble birth.’

‘Priestess,’ said Dragus, ‘Out here they are a different breed. There is no place for the weak of will, only men of steel. Britannia is seen as a stepping stone for those who have greater goals on their mind, and, if there is kudos to be gained from returning a runaway Temple Priestess to the Emperor, then the Governor will not think twice. You will be seen as a ticket to the Senate and be in chains before the sun sets.’

‘Then we must make sure he does not find out,’ said Rubria.

‘How?’ asked Dragus, ‘Londinium is a hotbed of gossip and intrigue. How long do you think the presence of a Vestal Virgin in its midst would be kept secret?’

‘Then we must go elsewhere,’ said Rubria.

‘Where?’ asked Dragus in frustration, ‘Camulodunum was razed to the ground by Boudica, and all other Roman settlements will have their own networks of informers. No, we must slip into the backstreets of Londinium and fade into its populace with the minimum of fuss. No one must know of your identity or the precious burden you protect.’

‘I am not going to Londinium,’ said Rubria. ‘I understand your concerns but I will not deny the Goddess her glory. You must find your own way, Dragus, you have sacrificed enough, as have you, Rose. The two of you must seek a quiet life away from Nero’s reach and grow old in peace. I will take a different path.’

‘Where will you go?’ asked Rose.

‘I intend to find somewhere away from Nero’s gaze,’ said Rubria, ‘Somewhere I can bring her glory to the uninitiated. It need not be loud, with proclamations or fanfares, but with patience and gentleness, for her story is all the message I need.’

‘But Priestess,’ interrupted Dragus, ‘This is a barbaric place. Your head could end up on the belt of a Chieftain and the Palladium nothing more than fuel for a fire. You cannot take this risk.’

‘Did you not say but a few minutes ago that this was a spiritual place and the people not barbaric?’ smiled Rubria.

‘I did but…’

‘Then I will embrace that spirituality and bring the flame of the Goddess to their dark existence. Don’t you see, Dragus, I have been set upon this path for a reason. These people are misguided and lack the grace of Vesta. All that has happened to me has happened for a purpose. To celebrate her name amongst the ignorant and bring light where there is darkness. I know it will be dangerous and it will take time but with Vesta’s will, I will be successful.’

‘I will not take no for an answer,’ said Dragus, ‘I have come this far and would see out my part in this. I know the land, speak some of the language, and know the habits and training of the military. There is a place I know west of Londinium where the locals are peaceful and particularly spiritual. Perhaps we will find a place there.’

Rubria, smiled.

‘Thank you, Dragus,’ she said, before turning to her servant. ‘What about you, Rose? she said kindly. ‘You have no Mistress here and are free to travel wherever you will. Where does your future lie?’

‘Wherever your footsteps fall, therein lays my destination,’ answered Rose simply.

‘Even if there is danger?’ asked Rubria.

‘Unto death itself,’ said Rose and fell to her knees before the Priestess, taking her hand in hers. ‘My heart has always been with the Goddess, mistress,’ she said, ‘Though circumstances limited what devotion I could bring. My life is now yours, and through you, Vesta’s.’

‘Then make this the last time you kneel before me, Rose,’ said Rubria. If this place is as dangerous as Centurion Dragus would have us believe then perhaps we should keep our traditions away from prying eyes, at least in the short term.’

Rubria turned to Dragus.

‘Where will I find the Captain?’ she asked, ‘I have a debt to pay.’ A few minutes later she stood alongside Stellus in the bow of the ship.

‘I would not burden you with the knowledge, Captain,’ she answered, ‘For I believe it would put you in danger. Suffice to know that I believe I am innocent and as soon as Nero’s shadow leaves Rome, I will return to face my accusers. Until then, I will suffer whatever the Gods lay in my path.’

‘So be it,’ said the captain.’ I will arrange a boat to take you to the shore long before we reach port. The less anyone knows about your passage the better.’

‘Oh Priestess,’ he said, ‘You are truly innocent in the ways of men. Yes, in coin, but also in other pleasures, the details of which I would not inflict on your pretty ears.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said blushing, ‘Anyway, I too have a debt to pay.’ She reached within her cloak and withdrew the necklace of Vesta, offering it to the Captain. ‘Take it,’ she said, ‘It is mine to give.’

He took the necklace from her and gazed into its stunning lustre.’