Mortuus Virgo (36 page)

‘Bring him in,’ coughed a voice from within the hut and after hesitating a few more moments, the boy stood aside to let Dragus enter the hut. As soon as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he saw an old man wrapped in furs, tended by a young girl.

‘Many Romans worship her it is true,’ he answered, ‘Including myself, but her aura graces many different tribes across the world, She is the Goddess of all hearths and smiles on those who nurture the family, sharing her bounty with those who pay her homage.’

‘Your devotion to your Goddess is admirable,’ said Blackthorn, ‘But if you seek tribute you have had a wasted journey. We have nothing of value here. Your legions took all that we held dear.’

Dragus thought quickly. He knew what the legions were capable of. He himself had taken part in the decimation of many such villages in the past.

‘I feel your pain, Blackthorn, ’he said eventually, ‘And I can only say the Gods will judge the acts of my countrymen in the afterlife.’

‘I carry a great secret that I have shared with no living man. Within your own lands, less than a days ride away, one of the Goddess’s high Priestesses and her servant lie close to death. I ask for shelter and succour for them both to recover their strength.’

‘Nothing!’ said Dragus, ‘But your tribe is renowned for its hospitality to travellers. I would suspect the great chief Blackthorn would not break his own people’s tradition.’

‘You are correct, Roman,’ he said, ‘But do not deem to use this against us. Our hearths are offered to travellers born of these lands, not invaders or those who would abuse our hospitality. Your people invade our lands, killing thousands. They rape our women and take our young into slavery. We are taxed more than we can bear to make you Emperor rich and are forced to kiss their collective arse just to be allowed to live in our own ancestral lands. Yet you walk in here as brazen as a camp whore and ask us to help you. I could have you killed within a few heartbeats and no one would know any difference.’

‘Blackthorn, all I can say is that this woman needs your help. I understand you may have a problem with me, but I plead with you, do not take out your frustration on her. She is not responsible for this situation. At least give her and her slave succour. If my presence offends then I will take my chances with the wild things of the forest.’

Blackthorn stood up and walked around him, looking at his dishevelled appearance.

‘We don’t have much here, Roman,’ he said, ‘We live hand to mouth and struggle to feed our own people. How can we feed three more mouths?’

‘I am strong and can work to support the three of us,’ said Dragus. ‘All we ask is shelter and a chance to contribute until the birth of the child. As soon as the mother regains her strength, we will move on.’

Again Blackthorn fell silent, taking in all Dragus had said.

‘Your story intrigues me, Roman,’ he said, ‘Bring your Priestess to my hut so I can gaze upon her. If my eyes tell me she has the aura of a Goddess then I will grant your request. However, if I feel you employ falsehoods as allies, then your heads will hang from my saddle by dawn.’ He stared at Dragus. ‘Life is hard in Britannia, Roman,’ he said, If you want to live in our world then this is how it will be.’

Dragus stared back at the chief for a long time, the implications spinning around his mind. If he agreed he would be putting all their lives on the line but no matter which way he looked at it, he knew he had no option. The food was all but gone, the weather was turning, there was a baby on the way and they were on the run from a madman who commanded the greatest army in the world. There was no choice, this village and the protection of Blackthorn was their only hope.

‘So be it,’ he said eventually, ‘I will return to Priestess and bring her back here by midday tomorrow.’

‘First you will eat,’ said Blackthorn, nodding an unspoken instruction to an old woman in the corner. ‘Two of my men will accompany you with spare horses. We will have them back here by nightfall.’ The old woman brought some warm bread and Dragus took it gratefully.

‘You have my gratitude, Blackthorn, ‘said Dragus, ‘And will have the blessing of Vesta herself.’

‘We will see, Roman,’ said Blackthorn, ‘We will see.’

----

Chapter 30

England 2010

Brandon crawled through the bracken towards the forward edge of the hill. Below him, the slope fell away to the forest he had watched earlier in the day. The snow was falling fast now, but though it was dark, he could just make out the locked gate where the security guard had turned them away with his shotgun. A few seconds later a tiny glow gave away the position of one of the armed men as he enjoyed a cigarette in the dark.

‘Fucking amateur,’ thought Brandon to himself,

He took off his rucksack and unzipped the pouch on the top flap, removing a soft bag. From within he took a small electronic telescope, and flicked a switch on the side. An almost imperceptible whine indicated the batteries were powering up the starlight technology within and he waited a few seconds before lifting it to his eye. Immediately the dark landscape before him opened up into an eerie green vista, revealing everything in surprisingly clear detail. The space age technology took the ambient light available from the surrounding area and used it to illuminate the ground before him, albeit, only within the body of the scope.

He scanned the edge of the forest, pausing on the gate where the two guards were now crystal clear, before continuing along the fence line. When he was happy there were no more guards along the front edge, he flicked the switch on the side of the scope to a different setting. The image immediately turned grey, and, though the landscape was a lot less clear, this was for a completely different purpose. Within a few seconds, the infra red setting picked out a heat source further back in the woods, the blurred white images revealing two previously unseen guards, obviously patrolling just inside the forest edge.

‘Hello, boys,’ said Brandon to himself quietly, ‘Just what is it you are hiding in there that warrants so much muscle?’

He watched for another half an hour, working out the best approach to avoid the guards, planning his route until finally, he put his rucksack back on and made his way to a stream bed he had seen earlier. He crouched into the dead ground and followed it down to the fence line, and within minutes, was making his way carefully into the depths of the forest, stopping every few minutes to check the way was clear with his night scope.

Eventually the ground started to rise and the presence of more guards along the path meant he was forced to go further into the undergrowth to give them a wide berth. Finally he topped the rise and found himself looking down into a tiny valley located deep at the heart of the forest, edged on three sides by trees and on the fourth by a steep cliff. At the base of the crag, an old looking complex of stone buildings was enclosed by a perimeter wall and Brandon could see another two guards guarding the only visible entrance gates.

‘Bingo,’ he said and switched the scope to starlight mode. He spent an age scanning the building complex, seeking a way in but soon realised that, even without the regular patrols by the guards, the high walls on three sides and the towering cliff on the fourth, meant that the convent was as secure as any prison.

‘Only one thing for it,’ thought Brandon and retreated into the undergrowth, following the edge of the wood up towards the cliff edge. He used the scope to select a possible route and withdrew a coiled rope from his rucksack. The kern-mantle rope was of a typical climbing construction, though, at only 6mm thick, was thinner than anything on the open market. Its lighter weight meant a man could carry longer lengths and was a recent innovation in the field of insurgency and counter terrorism.

He secured one end around a tree and connected a purpose made, carbon Karabiner to a clip on his belt. Finally he placed his pistol in the chest pocket of his Buffalo jacket and, without wasting anymore time, started to carefully abseil slowly down the cliff face into the cemetery at the back of the convent.

----

Inside the main building, Bernice was unusually quiet at the evening meal. In fact the atmosphere in the whole room was sombre. Since the Mother Superior’s death, Sister Agnes had taken on the role of washing the feet of the undeserving prior to the meal, and until they had decided the Mother Superior’s successor, had become the temporary head of the convent. Despite everyone’s best efforts to protect them from the terrible truth, all those present had now heard of the way the Mother Superior had died and fear was evident on many faces. Before the meal started, Sister Agnes stood to address the hall.

‘Fellow Sisters,’ she said quietly, ‘These past few days have been very challenging and I thank you all for your patience and understanding. I know many of you are tired, confused, and even frightened. What happened to the Mother Superior was dreadful and shook us all to our very souls.’

All present made the sign of the cross and kissed their rosaries at the mention of the Mother Superior.

‘Some may even question their safety here,’ she continued, ‘And wonder why we haven’t involved the authorities or ask why it is we are so…’ she paused, searching for an alternative to secretive, ‘
Private
in our day to day life. Well, let me tell you this. It is precisely because of situations like this we have not called the police. Our order, Sanctimonialis Rosa has long been persecuted by those who believe different to us. Our ways are strange to the world and often, when we become visible to society in general, the unenlightened have tried to change us, either by way of indoctrination or force. Over the centuries many such people have tried to impose their ways upon us and sometimes, it has to be said, some of our order have lain down their lives to protect that which we hold sacred.’

A murmur of unease rippled around the room.

‘But do not be concerned,’ she continued, ‘For over a hundred years there has been no incident and I am sure this latest affront to our order will soon pass and we can get back to our prayers and charitable work as soon as possible. The unholy actions of one,
despicable
individual, will not be allowed to threaten the sanctity and divine purpose of this order.’

‘We may be small compared to others,’ she continued, ‘Some may even say, reclusive, but I assure you this. We have many supporters across the world and answer to an authority greater than the police or government of this country. Even as I speak, measures have been taken to protect this convent and the safety of everyone therein. We will have to postpone our charity work for a few days while they search for this madman, but, rest assured, he will be caught, and when he is, we will seek retribution for his terrible sins. Until that time, all I can ask is that we all work hard and pray for the soul of our dear departed Sister.’

The speech ended and everyone looked up at her in relief. It was the first time anyone had taken the time to explain the situation and the lifting of tension in the room was almost palpable. Conversation returned to normal as the meal was served and everyone seemed much happier. Everyone, that is, except one.

Bernice stirred her soup aimlessly. The speech was welcome but left her with more questions than answers. Why would they be persecuted just for worshipping the Holy Mother, Who was this authority they reported to? And most of all, what did she mean when she said; seek retribution for his terrible sin. That almost sounded like a threat of violence. Surely, if he was caught, they should hand him over to the police. The only other action they should be taking is praying for his soul and begging forgiveness for his misguided ways. That was what the Mother Superior would have wanted. Wouldn’t she?’