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.