Hope of Earth (49 page)

“Where is Governor Suetonius?”

“On the way, sir. We expect him tomorrow.”

“Who is your ranking officer?”

“I am, sir. Or rather, you are, now.”

Ittai swore again. It was a delight to listen to. “I know nothing of the defenses or apparatus here. Carry on as best you can, and I will report to Suetonius when he arrives. Just assign me a room for the night.”

“There are plenty available, sir. Perhaps you should take Catus’s former residence.”

“That surely will be considerably more than adequate.”

Indeed it was. The procurator’s residence was palatial, with a frightened staff left without order. Ittai gave some, and they obeyed eagerly, glad for some semblance of restored order. He and Lin had a fairly good evening meal, with her tasting each item of his food first. This was a standard precaution against possible poisoning, and it showed the servants the nature of their relationship. Should she get suddenly sick, there would be a savagely enraged officer to fear. Not because of any value of the squire, but because of the effort to assassinate the officer.

Fortunately there was no problem. After the meal, Lin managed to talk with some of the servants, who naturally took her for one of them, and learned that the wife of one of the fleeing officials had been a beautiful woman named Wona. Lin concealed her surprise. It was surely the same woman they had known, once Sam’s faithless wife. Wona was evidently in the kind of company she liked.

Ittai stretched, and retired to the sumptuous bedchamber suite, followed meekly by the squire. “Disgusting,” he muttered as he looked around. “The toad certainly treated himself well.”

“I’ll sleep on a blanket by the door,” Lin said.

“No, just block it with something, and take the bed in the other room. It has its own bath facilities.”

“But—”

“When Queen Boudica gets here, all this will be burned. We might as well get some use of it.”

She nodded and took the alternate room. This meant that she was able to strip and wash without concern. This continued to be a fine adventure, heightened by the tension of coming violence.

The cavalry arrived next day, led by Governor Suetonius. Ittai reported, but the governor was tired and distracted. “Is Poenius Postumus here?” he demanded. “He was supposed to rendezvous with me outside the city, but we didn’t see him.”

“He is not here,” Ittai said.

“And the procurator?”

“Fled to the continent yesterday, with his family and possessions.”

“What are our resources?”

“Only those you bring with you, sir.”

“And the enemy?”

“Closing fast.”

Suetonius made a gesture as of tearing his hair. “We have neither time nor resources to organize a defense. Do we have even the capability to evacuate?”

“No, sir.”

“Then we must abandon the city. It’s a black day for Rome.”

“Black, indeed,” Ittai agreed. “And for Londinium.”

“I will assemble those citizens who can provide their own mounts, and take them into my column. Take some men and burn the city’s grain stores. Anything beyond what you can carry conveniently out with you. Then join me in my ignominious retreat.”

“Done, sir.” Ittai saluted and got to work.

They loaded grain on their horses, then lit torches and set fire to the granary. Lin felt horribly adventurous and evil as she wielded her torch, knowing that this act meant likely starvation for many, but this was the nature of war. She watched the fire rise, fascinated despite, or because of, her horror of its significance.

They rejoined Suetonius as the smoke piled into the sky. “Just in time,” the governor muttered. “The woman’s minions are already entering the city. Had they been one day earlier, we would have been done for.”

As they made their way out of the city, it seemed to Lin that she could hear the angry roar of the Britons, furious that their prey had escaped. And in the following days, the reports of the savagery Queen Boudica visited on the city were horrendous. It was apparent that vengeance and violence, not wealth or power, were the chief goals of the Celts. There had been some hope that the queen would hold the city for ransom, therefore not harming it much, but she did not. The population, guilty because it had been satisfied under Roman rule, was slaughtered by gibbet, fire, and cross. There was a mass sacrifice of women in the sacred groves of Andrasta, the goddess of war and fertility. Nearby cities were also sacked. It did not matter if the inhabitants were Celts rather than Romans; they received no mercy at the hands of the rebels.

Lin had had much sympathy for the Britons, who were after all her people, especially since she had seen the Roman brutality toward Boudica and her daughters. But this faded as the dreadful reports came in. At least Romans had not slaughtered Romans, and their brutality had been narrowly targeted. In contrast, anyone of either camp close to Queen Boudica was in deadly danger. Her violence had become pointless, as there was no vengeance to be had from the actual perpetrators, Catus and his guards.

By the time Boudica’s forces moved out of Londinium, reliable estimates put the total number of those slaughtered at 70,000 people. And of course immense damage had been done to the physical city. All because the queen had been flogged, and her daughters raped.

Meanwhile Suetonius had been marshaling his scant forces. Between the defeats already suffered, and the abdication or mutiny of lieutenants, he was able to gather only the pitifully small force of 10,000 infantry and cavalry. Boudica moved out of Londinium with a force perhaps ten times that size, intent on catching the Romans and destroying the last vestige of their power in Britain. This was to be the final showdown.

“Perhaps it is time for you to return home,” Ittai told Lin. “You have been a good squire, but there is no need for you to participate in what is coming.”

He wanted her to carry word of the disaster back to the family, so that they would know which side to back, and thus avoid likely mischief. He also did not want her to see what was about to happen.

But she couldn’t do it. “The battle has not yet been fought,” she said bravely. “So my job is not yet done.”

“But once it starts, there may be no escape. You know how the queen’s army is.”

She knew. But she couldn’t simply flee, leaving him to his likely fate. “I must stay until I know.”

He sighed. “You remind me of your sister.”

“Thank you.”

“But perhaps I have an alternative. You may be able to witness the battle from a safer vantage.”

“Safer?”

“You know the princess. Go to her.”

“But—”

“The queen has kept her daughters with her during the campaign. They suffered as sorely as she did. Their presence incites the masses to further mayhem. They share her command tent.”

“I know. But—”

“The princess will want you to watch the battle. She will reject your plea, but she will accept your presence, because of what you tried to do for her. Her mother should spare you, to carry the news home. It will represent vindication for the Celts.”

“But not for me!” Lin protested, tears flowing.

He shrugged. “What will be, will be. At least we will be better assured that you will return safely home.”

She had to go. It did make sense. Her mission was to report to her family, whatever the nature of the news, and this would facilitate it. It was risky, approaching the princess, but not as risky as remaining with the Roman force.

So that night she left, going quietly in the boy role she had perfected. The Roman sentries did not challenge her.

The Celtic camp was a far more boisterous thing. It had sentries, but they were drinking and carousing, hardly paying attention. Indeed, what did they have to worry about? A surprise attack by the tiny Roman force? So it was easy to enter the camp, and to locate the palatial tent of the queen. It was in a separate compound in the center of the camp.

She approached the guard. This one was alert; Boudica was taking no chances with her own person. “I need to see Princess Wildflower,” Lin said timidly.

“She is too young to accept a lover,” he said.

But not too young to be raped. “I am no lover,” she said, drawing off her cap as she had before.

“The Roman’s girl!” he exclaimed, recognizing her by reputation. “You she will see.”

Princess Wildflower came out. “Lin! What are you doing here?”

“I come to plead for the life of—”

Wildflower’s mouth turned hard. “No. I told you he had to keep to his own demesnes. All Romans in Britain must die.”

“I had to try,” Lin said. That was no lie; she wished she could have gained her brother-in-law another reprieve. But there would be no reprieve here.

“Come in,” the princess said. “But you may not bring a weapon inside. I must search you.”

“I have only a knife,” Lin said, bringing it out and proffering it hilt first.

“Even so. I believe you, but my mother has strict orders.”She drew Lin into a lesser tent, where a candle burned. “Strip.”

Lin complied. In a moment she stood naked. She wished her body had developed, because she felt worse naked as a child than she would have naked as a woman.

Wildflower brought out a feminine robe, which Lin donned. Then she noticed the gloves. “Them, too.”

Reluctantly, Lin drew them off. Her malformed hands was exposed.

The princess stared. “Oh, I didn’t know! I’m sorry. There could have been a weapon—a spike or something. But you will have to leave the gloves off. My mother will have to see.”

“I—I would rather not meet your mother.”

Wildflower laughed. “Nobody wants to meet my mother. But it must be. Come.” She drew Lin after her, to the larger tent.

Queen Boudica was there, huge and fearsome. Her red hair swirled about her, and her eyes glittered in the candlelight.

“Mother, this is Lin—the girl who tried to warn us.”

“The Roman girl!” the queen exclaimed, looking ferocious. Her voice was loud and harsh. Lin quailed.

“The Celt girl who begged us to flee the Romans,” Wildflower said firmly. “But we wouldn’t listen.”

“So what is she warning us about this time? To flee the battle lest we be destroyed?”

Lin tried to speak, but could not.

“She came to beg mercy for the Roman.”

Boudica laughed. “Plead mercy for yourself, girl; you were a fool to come here.” She drew a knife with a wickedly shining blade.

Wildflower stepped in front of her. “Mother—I granted her sanctuary. She’s my friend.”

“She’s a creature of the Romans!” Boudica made a threatening step.

“Mother!”

The queen relented. “Oh, very well. But she must make an oath of peace and friendship.”

Wildflower turned to Lin. “See, she likes you.” Even the queen had to smile, briefly, at that. “Will you make the oath?”

“But—but I am loyal to—”

“Yes. If you are loyal to your own, you will be loyal to those you oath. You would never have come here, if you did not have courage and honor. My mother must be assured that you mean no harm to us.”

Lin was amazed. “I—I—yes, I can make that oath.” There was a pause, and she realized that she hadn’t phrased it properly. “I do make that oath.”

“Then take back your knife,” Wildflower said, proffering it.

“But—”

“You are no threat to us now, are you?”

“No, of course not. But—”

“Take it,” Boudica said impatiently.

Lin accepted her knife. “I—I thank you for your trust, Queen Boudica.”

“Sit down and tell us why you are really here,” the queen said, sitting herself. “As a friend would.”

Lin took the indicated cushion. “My—the Roman didn’t want me in his camp. He said that once the battle began, there would be no escape. I am sister to his wife, and he feared that harm would come to me.”

“Centurion Ittai is bearing arms?” Boudica asked sharply.

“Yes. He was summoned, and he had to go.”

“We spared him once, on condition that he stay clear of us,” the queen said gravely. “Now he must die.”

“He—he knows that. He said the procurator was an idiot who had set off the uprising, and a rat who deserted the ship his own folly had sunk. But he had to obey the order.”

The queen did not seem fully displeased with this news. “There are qualities to be respected, even in a Roman. But if you went back and told him to depart tonight, avoiding the battle, would he go?”

“No. He obeys his orders.”

“So he must die. He is too competent to spare.”

Lin nodded sadly. “Yes.”

“But he arranged for you to be spared,” Wildflower said.

“Yes.”

“You will watch the battle tomorrow,” Boudica said. “If you see him go down, and if you can reach him before he dies, stand over him with this tassel, and he may yet be spared.” She produced a large red section of intricately woven cloth.

“Oh, thank you, Queen Boudica!” Lin exclaimed, her tears flowing.

“It will probably be too late,” the queen said gruffly, and turned away.

“Come,” Wildflower said, and led Lin to another section of the compound tent.

Lin gazed at the tassel. “Why—?”

“Because you came before with the knowledge of the Roman. He knew what we did not, and tried to spare us. And when it happened, he faced away in disgust.”

“How could you know that?”

“We saw you with him. We knew who he was. We saw how he hated what was happening. We saw that none of his party participated. We suffered for our own folly, not heeding him. My mother remembers her friends—and even her enemies, if they show conscience.”

“So does Centurion Ittai.”

“Yes. So probably he will die, but it will be with honor, and your estate will not be ravaged.” Wildflower paused. “And I do thank you for what you tried to do for me. I was a fool, and I paid for it. Now no man will marry me, unless he is forced. My mother will not say that, but she knows. We will see that you return safely home.”

“Thank you,” Lin said faintly.

They settled down for bed and sleep. The tent was not as opulent as the quarters in Londinium had been, but was much nicer than the ground outside would have been.

The next day the two forces arrayed for battle. Wildflower guided Lin to a large wagon set up behind the arrayed force of the Britons. It was in the center of a long line of carts and wagons and standing women. The wives of the soldiers had gathered to watch the slaughter of the hated Romans.