The Gods of War (5 page)

Right now he had little to fear, Brennos being too busy diminishing the reputation of Hannibal. Seventeen years the Carthaginian had stayed in Italy. He had beaten the Romans at Lake Trasimene and Cannae, then wandered the peninsula instead of assaulting the city, only to
see his brother Hasdrabul, who had come to his aid, crushed at Metaurus. The Celts who helped him died in their thousands for his failure to take decisive action, or found themselves evacuated to North Africa, only to perish in an unfamiliar land at the battle of Zama. And, of course, the implication was clear. Masugori knew what was coming; at this point Brennos would always clasp that damned eagle on his neck, as though he was making a prophecy. History proved it; only a Celtic leader, with greater numbers behind him, could do better than Hannibal and actually succeed in destroying Rome.

The expected words did not emerge, for at that moment Galina entered and a mere look from her was sufficient to stem his flow. Masugori watched her move, quickly lifting his eyes from the allure of her swaying hips to observe the look of amused tolerance that filled her eyes, and he wondered, not for the first time, if such a woman might temper his neighbour’s ambitions, and absolve him of the need to either succumb to Brennos, or go to war with him.

Brennos found it harder to deal with Galina than his other women and it was not just because of her youth or beauty, though she had both those attributes in abundance. Her colouring was
unusual, for it suggested that she had a different strain of blood in her veins: with her olive skin, dark eyes and black hair, she reminded Brennos of the Lady Claudia, the Roman woman he had captured after his first battle against Aulus, the first person to make him break his vow of celibacy. Cara, plump, matronly and fecund, had turned a blind eye, not to mention a regal back, on all his other concubines, but she hated this latest acquisition with a passion, never losing an opportunity to spit at her, calling Galina a changeling, a Roman-born bastard and a sorceress.

There was an assurance about the girl that intrigued Brennos; she was unlike the others, for neither his prosperity, nor his evident authority, had any effect on her. She talked to him as an equal, and on those occasions he had tried to check the girl, to remind her of the position he held, Galina had simply announced her departure, and walked out on him. Power and wealth corrupts nothing more than a man’s relationship with women; he is never sure whether a display of affection is prompted by love, fear or greed. Brennos would not have recognised the problem, having been convinced, all his life, that he required nothing from anyone, but he was, even if reluctant to admit it, human.
Without losing face in any way, he always contrived to entice young Galina back to his bed.

‘If you mention Rome once more, I shall leave.’ He laughed, as much because of what she had said as the fact that she dared to say it, but the physical position contributed too. Her head was resting on his naked stomach, and this statement was addressed to his erection, which got a hearty tug, and a small bite, as a warning to desist. ‘It’s bad enough without visitors prattling on about them.’

‘Luekon has lived amongst them. He knows the Romans and their ways. What he tells me of their plans helps me to deal with them.’

She was across him in a flash, straddling his body, the eagerness that he loved quite evident in her eyes. ‘I know Roman ways. I might even have Roman blood and I want you to do to me, at least ten times, what they always do to their female captures.’

Luekon heard the hearty shout as Brennos responded to Galina’s delightful vulgarity. So did two of the chieftain’s nephews.

‘We are safe. That whore will keep him occupied for the whole night,’ said Minoveros, the eldest. As the son of Cara’s brother, he had command of the chieftain’s bodyguard.

‘They say Brennos can see through walls,’ said
Luekon, a cautious man, with a healthy fear of sorcery.

The younger nephew, Ambon, spoke, a hint of jealousy evident in his voice. Luekon knew that this young man had an eye on Galina, whom he wanted to take over when his uncle was dead.

‘Right now he can’t see further than the end of his prick.’

These were the two most prominent names given to Servius Caepio by the Greek traders. Luekon had come to see them, to persuade them to murder, on the promise of a reward large enough to tempt the gods. The Celtic laws of hospitality allowed him the freedom, and the time, to wean them from their primary allegiance, and it had proved simpler than Servius Caepio could have hoped. Related to Brennos’s wife, the two could bring Cara into the conspiracy, along with all her relatives, and all because of the voluptuous creature who had just made Brennos laugh.

‘Nothing must happen while I am here.’

‘Why?’ asked Minoveros.

‘No good would come of your actions. I have come from Roman territory, and if Rome’s hand were seen in this you would be pariahs amongst the other tribes.’

‘They hate Brennos as much as we do. I say we do it before their very eyes.’

Luekon snorted derisively; to attempt to kill Brennos at a tribal gathering was madness. ‘They respect him as a man who keeps the peace in our own lands. He might talk down to them but he’s not taken a single blade of grass that he cannot rightfully claim belongs to the Duncani, yet he has the power to subdue them all, except the Lusitani. How do you think they will feel if they see that power in the hands of others, men they cannot trust, because they’ve taken Roman gold to kill their leader?’

‘It is not a thought that troubles us,’ Ambon replied.

‘Neither should it trouble Rome,’ added Minoveros. ‘Tell them we will put one of Brennos’s sons in power, and rule through him.’

‘Do you think that will fool the Bregones, or the Lusitani, a child as a chieftain? They’ll say nothing while they’re guests. They may even smile and bless your act, but those chieftains, with all their warriors, will be outside your walls within a month.’ The two younger men exchanged thoughtful glances. ‘And what if you lose? Not even Numantia can stand against the combined might of all the tribes.’

If his argument lacked a degree of logic, he had at least made these two boneheads worried. Tribes fighting each other, instead of raiding the frontier,
would suit Rome very well, and he was of the opinion that it would happen as soon as Brennos was gone, but this tribal gathering, arranged before he arrived, had caught him out. Some of those visiting chiefs would recognise him and might even guess what he was about. As long as he was away from Numantia before the assassins acted, it would not matter. Luekon knew that conspiracies were never as easy as they sounded, that they had a habit of going wrong, and rebounding on those who had instigated them.

Masugori was one of those who knew Luekon; the man had come here from his own encampment, having delivered Servius Caepio’s blandishments, but they avoided any hint of recognition, so that Brennos would be unaware that they had met. Caution made them wait until he was fully occupied, greeting another arriving chieftain, before they spoke. Masugori cornered Luekon, in an effort to establish what he was doing in Numantia.

‘I could ask you the same question, Masugori.’

‘I am here by invitation.’

Luekon clicked his fingers. ‘Don’t you mean by command?’

The Bregones chieftain, who was a good head shorter than the other man, edged his sword out
of its scabbard. ‘Have a care what you say. Remember that, in Numantia, you are no guest of mine.’

‘I’m not beholden to you. Rome offered you a chance to act yet you refused. The task falls to others.’

Masugori laughed, and pushed his sword back. ‘Here? You’re mad. Brennos has eyes in the back of his head. If I were you, I’d get out of this while you still have skin on your bones.’

‘Whoever would have guessed that I’d take advice from you? I am in the act of leaving this very day.’

They had made sure Brennos was fully occupied, but neither of them thought to check on Galina, who witnessed this exchange. She had also been present when Masugori first arrived and had seen them introduced like strangers, and that made her curious. How was it that these two, who apparently did not know each other, were now engaged in earnest conversation? As always, when she saw anything that might affect her future, she told Brennos.

Just as Luekon was going out of the main gate, he was caught and hauled back to the open space before the wooden temple that stood at the very centre of Numantia.

‘That is hardly the way a guest repays a host,’ said Brennos. ‘To leave without saying farewell.’

‘Leaving?’

It was a foolish statement, because the guards had brought both of the horses with them, and the packs on the back of the second animal showed quite clearly what he had intended.

‘Masugori!’ The Bregones chieftain jumped slightly as Brennos called his name, but he faced the man, determined to keep his dignity. ‘You know this man?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘He came to me from the Romans, to sow the seeds of distrust between us.’

Brennos’s voice was low and compelling. ‘And you let him live?’

‘He was my guest.’

The Duncani chieftain nodded. To a Celt, that required no further explanation. The person of a guest was inviolate. ‘Yet you did not choose to tell me that this viper was here.’

Masugori knew he was in danger, knew Brennos was capricious and cruel. He had power of his own, as did his tribe, but it was not enough to stand against this man. ‘It is because of me that he’s leaving, Brennos. I suspect he came here to do mischief. I told him that he was wasting his time.’

Brennos had picked up the shuffling in the crowd, part fear, part a prelude to action, for anyone with even half a brain would know that their leader would not leave matters there. If Luekon had anything to tell, then Brennos would extract it. He came very close to the Bregones chieftain, towering over him, his blue eyes boring into the other man’s soul.

‘You seem very sure, Masugori.’

‘Less sure now than I was, Brennos.’

Brennos leant forward and pulled out Masugori’s sword. ‘The wearing of weapons, in my lands, is a privilege only afforded to friends or guards.’

He spun round, his eyes raking the crowd, before walking over to Luekon, who seemed to shrink as he approached. Unable to look him in the eye, he stared instead at the gold eagle round his neck, as Brennos removed his weapon. The charm seemed to mock him, its spreading wings alluding to a freedom he knew he had lost.

‘Look at me,’ said Brennos softly. The other man shook his head, but Brennos put one sword under his chin and pushed, so that Luekon had no choice. The blue eyes were like ice and the voice droned on, as Brennos spoke to his victim. ‘You are a spy, a traitor to your race, Luekon, and you will tell me why you came. A man like

you does not travel so far, unless he has come to see someone…’

On and on went the voice, as Luekon felt the power slip from his limbs. Minoveros and Ambon had moved to the front of the crowd, their hands edging towards their swords. They assumed that Brennos could not see them, but they underestimated his powers; he could feel them.

‘The names, Luekon?’

‘Mino…’

The two nephews, about to be exposed, jumped forward as Brennos pushed Luekon’s own blade hard into the man’s unresisting gut, then he hacked down Ambon’s weapon with Masugori’s sword, so hard that the young man dropped it. Minoveros raised his to strike, just as a spear flashed past his intended victim and took him in the chest. Brennos did not look to see who had saved his life, for he had Ambon at his mercy, the point of his sword at the bodyguard’s throat. Luekon, still in a catatonic state, stood swaying, as if unaware of the gaping wound in his stomach. Brennos turned back to him, holding his eyes, again talking softly to reimpose his spell. When he asked a question, his victim replied without hesitation and the whole story spilt out, into a crowded arena in which the smallest gasp
could be heard. Finally Brennos turned and fixed Cara with a stare.

‘Lies, Husband, all lies,’ she cried.

Coldly, he ordered her to fetch his children and go into the temple, then gave the same instructions to all his concubines, except Galina, who was childless. When they had obeyed, Brennos took a
falcata
off one of his remaining guards. It was a huge weapon, a thick curved blade, with one razor-sharp edge designed to remove a head or a limb at a single stroke. He entered the temple himself and shut the great wooden door. The screaming started almost immediately, but there were no cries of pain. Within a little time the sounds died away, to be replaced by an eerie silence, then the door opened and Brennos emerged, covered in blood from head to foot.

He looked around the silent crowd. ‘They sought to replace me with a child of mine. There are now no children of mine, nor mothers to breed them.’

He walked over to Galina and stood before her. ‘Who threw the spear?’

She indicated Masugori, who stood rock still, shocked to the marrow at the barbarity of what Brennos had done, and fully expecting to suffer the same fate as his family. Brennos walked over
to look at the conspirators. Ambon was untouched, Luekon badly wounded and Minoveros nearly dead from the spear in his chest. Three swift strokes with the mighty
falcata
removed their heads, sending great founts of blood up from their trunks. He picked up Luekon’s head by the long black hair.

‘This one should be sent to Rome.’

CHAPTER THREE