‘He’s broken his oath,’ Vindex explained, ‘the oath sealed with flesh and blood. There’s no going back for him, not now, because he knows what his mates will do to him.’
Duco was one of the original Usipi, and claimed to have been swept up in the mutiny against his will. He told them about the terror of that first night, then the horror of what had followed, culminating in the eating of dead men, binding them all in a ghastly brotherhood of damned souls. He had stayed on the ship when they raided Alauna, and said that the captives were not harmed, only kept in chains so that none could escape. It was cramped down among the ballast of the ship, filthy, dark and stinking, but they were fed. The trireme had then sailed to Hibernia, and he and the party who would receive the ransom had taken the Roman prefect ashore. Then the ship went north to their island with the other prisoners, and would return to collect the others once they had been paid.
‘The prisoners will be kept in the tower,’ Duco assured Ferox. It was the safest place, built out on its own tiny island in a lake and approached by a narrow causeway. ‘It was there when we arrived. Home to a chieftain, and we had a hard fight to cut our way in, but his men were few, not well armed or experienced. They were mostly fishermen and we killed them and took their women.’
‘How many warriors will be in the tower? Especially at night?’
‘Five or six. There is no danger and Cniva is in Hibernia.’ Cniva was their lord, the last of the brothers who had led the mutiny. ‘He does not stay in the tower since his woman died last year. She had the sight, and the power, and he misses her.’ Duco shuddered. It seemed the witch commanded more fear than love from the rest of the band. ‘That is why he wants the boy, for the power will be in his blood.’
‘And you are sure that they will all be in the tower?’
‘Yes.’ Most of the others lived in a sprawling walled settlement by the bay on the far side of the island. A few had huts out on their own. ‘They are there, with some of Cniva’s oldest men to guard them. All are Harii, and he trusts them, but they are no longer fit enough to raid. They will fight, though.’ Duco spoke of the narrow winding corridor that was the sole way into the tower, and of the little rooms and chambers on either side where men would wait in ambush.
‘Dogs?’ Ferox had seen similar towers from a distance and visited a couple. Both had had big guard dogs chained up in the entrance. He could still remember how loud their barks echoed in the gloomy corridor.
Duco shook his head. ‘She hated dogs and had them all killed.’
That was something at least, and as he sat and did his best to weather the storm Ferox worked on a plan, picking away at it, trying to spot any problem, any risk, and find answers. It began to seem possible.
Late in the afternoon the wind slackened. The ship’s master asked everyone to throw something of value to them over the side as thanks to Neptune, for they were much closer to the shore than he would have liked. Slowly and painfully they began to beat back out to sea. The ship could not sail very close into the wind, so they crawled forward at a snail’s pace, travelling what seemed like miles to gain a hundred paces. The next day was only a little better, but it did not get worse and they crept westwards for that day and the next. After that it became easier, the wind shifted and became steady. If not as glorious as the start of their voyage, it took them at a good speed where they wanted to go. Soon they were passing islands, and parts of the Caledonian coast that looked like islands. The master named them, although Bran often had a different name, and much of the time Ferox knew little or nothing about any of them.
‘That’s it,’ the master said gruffly late on the following day. ‘Not that I ever wanted to see the cursed place again. Beyond it is the isle of the hag warrior.’ He made a sign to avert the evil eye. ‘They are not welcoming either.’ Ferox could see high cliffs all around the visible part of the little island. It looked a harsher, bleaker place than the gently rolling fields of the pirates’ stronghold.
Duco told them more. He pointed, and through squinting eyes Ferox thought that he could see a tiny spike that must be the tower. The harbour and main settlement were on the north-western side. ‘It is the best place for ships to anchor, and the arms of the bay give shelter from the wind.’
Ferox asked about the warrior woman on the other island.
‘We do not trouble them. At least we did not. Years ago, ten of our men boasted that they would go and have her head. They were drunk,’ he added in explanation. ‘None of them came back, but a week later we found their heads lying in a circle on one of our beaches. The witch told Cniva to stay away, but now that she is dead he has said that the old hag has power and that we should take it. That is why he wanted the queen.’
‘Brigita?’ Ferox was surprised. ‘You said that Brennus promised you fifty young women and girls every year for the next five years to snatch her and stop her husband becoming high king.’
‘That is true, but he also wanted her because she is a daughter of the warrior queen. She wears the mark of that kin.’ Ferox wondered whether that was the neat scar between her breasts. ‘He will threaten her to make the warrior queen do what he wants.’
‘How many live on her island?’ Ferox wondered whether they might find an ally, although it was hard to think of any way to reach her.
‘We do not know. Perhaps fifty, perhaps fewer. Boats come and leave fish and food on the beach, but no one stays unless they go there to learn.’
‘Go and get something to eat,’ Ferox said, and then raised his voice. ‘Eat as much as you can. It’s going to be a long day.’ He leaned on the side of the ship, staring at the islands, wondering whether he needed to change his plan.
‘This looks like the end of the world,’ Ovidius said, coming up beside them. He was very pale and seemed even thinner. The same was true of most of those on board.
‘The end of this journey.’ Ferox pointed to the south of the island. There were grey shapes skimming above the waves.
‘Dolphins. Wonderful creatures, to be sure, but I have seen plenty of them before,’ the poet said, and then his gaze went further and he spotted the dark hump beyond them. It spouted, then dived and a moment later a great black tail rose above the sea. Ferox watched the sheer excitement in the old man’s face. ‘That is truly a delight for the eyes.’
It came closer for a while, the shiny black back of the whale surfacing just twenty paces from them, and they heard the great exhalation of breath. When it sank again, there was an oily film on the water where it had been. For a while they watched, waiting for it to reappear, and just when they were about to give up were rewarded when the whale surfaced again, much further away. The sky was turning grey, with low clouds and mist coming towards them.
‘This is it, then,’ Ovidius said quietly.
‘You should stay on the ship, my lord. It will be rough.’
Ovidius chuckled. ‘What a strange way with words you military fellows have. I imagine Odysseus, back after twenty years, corpses of suitors piled in mounds around him, and when Penelope asks how it was, he just says, “Rough. Really, really tough.”’
‘Well, it was. Apart from all the nymphs and goddesses.’
Ovidius looked up at him. ‘Let us go and save a goddess of our own.’
‘You are sure?’
‘I am. Quite sure.’
‘Very well, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, there is much to prepare.’