Читать книгу Red Queen, White Queen - Henry Treece - Страница 12
ОглавлениеOrders from Two Sources
In the little anteroom to the Prefect’s office, Gemellus and Duatha were allowed to sit, as a young Captain outlined the plans they had to follow.
He was a naturally humorous man, thin in the face and scarred about the arms, as though he had seen some service in the ranks before being elected to his high office. Gemellus took to him without knowing why.
As he spoke to them, this young Captain strolled about the little room like a caged wolf or a trapped lion.
‘You two are damned lucky,’ he said, smiling. ‘Mithras has smiled on you, I must say! I wish I were coming with you myself, confound it! But I have to stay with the old man in there; he trusts my judgment, for some reason or other. I can’t think why. All I’ve ever done is to get my legs crushed in a chariot charge!’
Gemellus saw the seven gold medallions that jingled on the man’s breastplate, and he knew that the man was a veteran.
The Captain went on, ‘This is the nicest punishment I’ve ever known, damn it! You, Roman, will get a Centurion’s wrist-band out of it; and you, Celt, will get a Captaincy of Horse—that is, if you do find her, and if you do plant those little bodkins where she can’t pull them out again!’
He tapped the table with his scabbard to emphasise his words. ‘It won’t be easy,’ he said. ‘She moves among a crowd of dedicated warriors all the time. If you make a mistake, well, I cannot imagine that her warband will leave as much as would feed a fox-cub, of you both!’
He paused for a moment and then said, ‘Perhaps it would be better to go back to the Prefect and say you had decided to accept the flogging?’
Duatha rose from his stool and thumped the table. Papers fell to the floor, but he disregarded them.
‘By the Lord of Light,’ he said, ‘but no one shall flog me! I am a ...’
The Captain waved him down and said gently, ‘Yes, we all know you are a Prince. But just now, Duatha Ennius, you are a horseman in the Roman army. No doubt your noble blood will assist you when it comes to dealing with another member of the Celtic aristocracy.’
Duatha said sullenly, ‘Boudicca is a bitch. She slit my grandfather’s tongue because he brought an unwelcome message to her once. I would kill her as I would a snake, without pity.’
The Captain strolled over to a cabinet in which many pieces of armour hung. He seemed to study these for a while. Then he turned and spoke, just as gently, but with a strange bitterness in his voice.
‘That is why I would wish to come with you,’ he said. ‘She has just burned the veteran’s colony, near Camulodunum. A runner came in with the news while you two were still trying to let out each other’s guts. She and her thousands of savages have burned the place so that it might never have been. They have slaughtered all within the walls.’
Gemellus half-rose, his dark eyes wide with disbelief.
‘But that was a sacred place, Captain,’ he said. ‘No one would dare. It would be like burning down Rome herself!’
The Captain looked straight into the other’s eyes.
‘I shall never see Rome again, friend,’ he said. ‘I do not greatly care what happens to Rome. But I do care what happens to my own folk. My father was at Camulodunum, a pensioner, an old dog gone in the teeth after a lifetime serving under the Eagles. They settled him there in a little house with cherry trees in the garden, and he thought to eke out what was left of his life in peace. Boudicca first had his hands cut off for having been a Roman soldier. Then she had him flayed, for she said that an old wolf’s hide would be just the thing for a new hunting jacket she needed. The runner who brought the news, a Celt like your brother here, heard those very words. He saw the whole thing happen. You understand now why I would come with you, if they would allow me?’
Gemellus nodded. He thought of his own father and a wild bitterness overwhelmed him.
‘What are we to do, Captain?’ he asked at last.
The soldier sat down wearily before them at the table and drew out a map. With his long, scarred finger he traced the paths they should take to avoid ambush or recognition.
‘And so,’ he said, ‘in five days you must be here. She will have set up camp at that time, not far from the Ermine Street. No doubt she will have burned Verulamium and even Londinium in the meantime, but we cannot do anything about that, placed as we are. Then, on the night of the fifth day from now, at sunset, you will have delivered the daggers to the Queen. And when her encampment is in a state of confusion at the loss of the she-devil, you will make your way on to the Ermine Street, and wait while a detachment of the Ninth come in to finish them off.’
Gemellus said, ‘But the Ninth is at Lindum Colonia, many miles from Verulamium!’
The Captain said, ‘The Legate of the Ninth is an old friend of my father’s. He will be there with five maniples and a shock force of horsemen. They will wipe out the Iceni, once their queen is dead, and then they will pick you two up and take you back with them to make your report. You will return to Glevum under safe escort as soon as you are fit to travel. I have sent word to the Legate of the Ninth to that effect already. The runner set out an hour ago.’
Duatha said, ‘The Legate is a good man, I hear. Quintus Petillius Cerialis is his name. I have heard him spoken of well, Captain.’
The Captain nodded. ‘He will avenge his old comrades, you may be sure, Duatha Ennius. Now you may go, to make ready.’
The two men rose then and saluted.
As they reached the door the Captain called after them, ‘Take two others with you. I suggest that you select them from your own Troop, Duatha Ennius. They must speak Celtic and be entirely trustworthy. You will know the men you can trust. See that they do not look like Romans. That is all. Tell them nothing about this, since they may have to be used as decoys, sacrifices to the main cause. If you bring them back here again—which I doubt—they will be given citizenship. But do not tell them that.’
The two soldiers nodded and saluted. The Captain rose to his feet and extended his hand above his head.
‘Vale!’ he said. ‘May the Lord of Light protect you. And may you have luck!’
Then he sat down at the table again and began to shuffle the maps about, as though the two men did not exist.
Outside the door, in the long corridor, a young negro girl was waiting. Her eyes were hidden under heavy dark eyelids, which were lowered in respect. But the white teeth displayed by her broad grin showed that this respect was but a mockery.
‘Lord Roman,’ she whispered to Gemellus, ‘my mistress, the Lady Lavinia, has ordered me to wait here until your business with the Captain was finished. She awaits you in her room, she says. She says, too, that she expects you to obey her invitation to visit her. I speak the words of my mistress, Lord Roman.’
Then the girl opened her heavy eyelids, so slightly, and glanced up at Gemellus.
He thought that he had never seen so wicked a glance, no, not even from those girls of the streets who haunted the passage-ways where gladiators in training had to pass at night-time.
