‘Come on… Let’s get inside,’ coughed Palmatus, clambering over the edge onto the grass.
‘Samognatos here tells me we have to leave our weapons.’
‘Fair enough.’
Fronto frowned. ‘You approve?’
‘Not really, but we’ve come all this way, and they’re only old grey-beards with sticks. We’re legionaries, with Masgava too.’
‘Grey-beards? You’d not say that if you’d met the bastard with the crown over in Britannia that tried to carve me a new arsehole on the front!’
Samognatos cleared his throat meaningfully and Fronto turned to him, and then followed his gaze to see two men in white robes standing in the open gateway in the wicker fence.
‘Arduenna tells us that Romans are coming and that we are to open our arms to them.’
Fronto narrowed his eyes. ‘Experience tells me that one of those arms will hold a dagger.’
The druid held his arms out to the sides. ‘Please enter. You will come to no harm.’
Again, Fronto maintained his steely stare, but Masgava was suddenly next to him, striding towards the gate. As he approached, he drew his sword and three knives from various places about his body and, removing his cloak, placed them on the ground, on the thick wool for protection from the damp grass.
‘Masgava?’
‘Come on, sir.’
Fronto sighed and stepped forward, unsheathing his blade and dropping it onto Masgava’s cloak with the others. He gestured to the men behind him to do so. ‘Pontius and Quietus? You two stay out here with the weapons.’
‘We were led to believe there were twenty of you?’ the druid enquired, performing a second quick headcount and eyeing the seventeen visitors with interest.
Fronto paused as he approached. ‘Our three Remi riders are bringing the horses and gear the long way round. They’ll wait for us at the main road. You are surprisingly well-informed?’
‘You travel within the Goddess’ lair. She sees all.’
‘Comforting.’
The druid gave a smile that did nothing to ease Fronto’s tension and ushered the Roman party inside. As they passed into the sacred nemeton, Masgava and Palmatus took a surreptitious opportunity to wink at Fronto and indicate the location of their hidden knives.
The Divonanto grove consisted of three rings of trees regularly spaced and offset so as to almost create a barrier that one had to pass through at an angle. Consequently, the centre of the grove was not visible until the three rings had been negotiated. As far as Fronto was concerned, it was a terrible waste of what must be an astounding view, but with a shrug he followed the druids through the trees into the centre.
Within, a circular area consisted of well-tended turf and a ring of small jagged standing stones. At the centre was a wide, flat slab of blue-grey rock, four felled trunks surrounding it, forming benches. A veritable banquet lay on the slab, including platters of fruit and meat, bread and cheese, and jugs of what looked to be water.
Two druids sat at the slab opposite and raised their hands in welcome. Fronto approached the feast cautiously and sat on one of the logs, as far away from the druids as he could. As the others took their seats, his eyes strayed across the table, surveying the food. He also saw, with no surprise, a purple stain on the stone beneath.
‘A new use for your stone?’
The druids frowned in incomprehension.
‘I note the stains. Telling ones, those are. Fruit’s not the only thing that gets laid open on this stone, eh?’
The man who had escorted them through the gate and had first spoken to them arched an eyebrow and smiled knowingly.
‘Many sacrifices on this stone. Goats, sheep, bulls, chickens and more.’ He laughed. ‘And fruit.’
‘I’m sure.’
The silence that fell was cold and uncomfortable, and Masgava, in his usual easy manner, broke the spell by reaching out and laying a slice of pink meat on the white bread, stuffing it into his mouth with a happy sigh.
The druids nodded approvingly at him, and then one turned to Fronto. ‘You hunt Ambiorix of the Eburones.’
Fronto nodded. ‘I am a little uncertain how the druids stand on this matter. Traditionally, none of your sect has spoken civilly to a Roman and I am having a great deal of difficulty in believing that you mean us anything less than harm. Tell me why you would aid us.’
There were shared glances between the four robed men, and finally one of the pair who had already been seated at the table leaned forward, pouring himself a cup of crystal clear water and cleared his throat.
‘Do not be mistaken, commander. We are no friend of yours. It simply suits our purpose to supply you with what you need to accomplish your goals at this particular time. When your task is complete, we will have no further business with you.’
The druid next to him nodded. ‘It is a troublesome matter for us and has created divisions in our society. Some would happily cast their blessings upon Ambiorix for what he has done and what he continues to attempt. I have to say that even I toasted his success when he destroyed your legion in the winter.’
Fronto’s eyes darkened dangerously, and the legionaries around stopped reaching for the food, suddenly on their guard. Masgava shrugged and stuffed a plum into his mouth.
‘Let us not fall to argument,’ the first druid said, soothingly. ‘This nemeton is home to seven shepherds of the people. Three disagree with our stand and have left in support of Ambiorix and the enemies of Rome. We four remain as we have no interest in perpetuating the Eburone king’s campaign of resistance.’
‘You still give us no reason. Why this divide?’
‘It is a matter of deciding where the best path lies for our people. Those of us you call ‘druids’ are not an army, but a caste of wise men, each with our own free will. And as wise men, we each believe we hold more wisdom than others. Perhaps true wisdom would be trying to knit all possibilities into one garment.’
‘So some of you think Ambiorix is bad for Gaul? I tend to agree. Alright… for now let us assume that you are hiding nothing and that we can trust you, although the very idea makes me twitch. Have you any helpful information for us?’
The fourth druid, who so far had not spoken, cleared his throat. He was an old man — older than the rest, anyway — and his voice was reedy and quiet. ‘Ambiorix has only a small following of his own, but enjoys the favour of kings and councils. He is welcome anywhere from the sea to the mountains, except in Condrusi lands.’
‘That’s not particularly helpful.’
‘Where he is now is of no use to you. By the time you get there, he will be gone. I offer you the greater solution: where he will be.’
Fronto narrowed his eyes. ‘Now you’re talking. Go on.’
‘Ambiorix has finished treating with all the eastern tribes and gained their favour. The Treveri are already making war on your general, and the Nervii are all-but destroyed, yet he has hopes to build an army from the rest before your forces reach them. He will not look to us, as the Condrusi have consistently refused to deal with him. So only one path remains to him: to return home. He still needs the Eburones, as they are the centre position of his tribal alliance. And the Eburones that still thrive are loyal to his opposite number, King Cativolcus. To complete his army, he must wrest the land from his brother king. Find Cativolcus, and in time Ambiorix will find you.’
Fronto nodded. ‘As much as it irks me that I’ll be aiding druids towards their goals, thank you for this. Needless to say, if we make our way to Cativolcus’ court and find that we have been sold out and that the entire Eburone nation is waiting for us with sharpened blades, I will find a way to come back here and nail you to your sacred trees, even if it is my larva — my vengeful spirit — that has to do it. I trust we have an understanding?’
The druids simply smiled indulgently, as though they fully expected and accepted his threat.