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  Even so, Catrin’s throat constricted from angst that he might be killed. Why hadn’t her father stopped Belinus? He must know harming a Roman diplomat would incite a bloody brawl. Fearing that anarchy would break out, she reached for her father’s hand. “Don’t let Belinus kill him!”

  Her voice sounded puny against the deafening noise in the chamber. The king’s icy stare and silence seemed to sanction the young Roman’s doom. Catrin turned to her mother for help. “Do something!”

  The queen reached for the king’s arm. “Stop this! Or you will start a war.”

  The king wrenched her hand away. “Let me handle this, woman!”

  The queen stepped closer, eyes ablaze. “Then act like a king! Control your warriors.”

  When the king glowered at the queen and his lips pressed into a firm line, Catrin knew then that she had to act now to stop a bloody conflict. She squared her shoulders, stomped her foot, and ordered Belinus, “Release that man now!”

  This time, her voice resonated around the chamber.

  4

  Apollo’s Raven

  The massive outer door rattled and crashed open in a roaring wind. Red embers popped out of the hearth and choking soot rained on the chamber. Out of the billowing cloud of smoke, a raven swooped through the chamber.

  Catrin thought the next moments would be etched in her memory for a lifetime. Her bold action of ordering Belinus to release Marcellus had the impact she had hoped for. Stillness pervaded the chamber as Belinus pulled his knife away from Marcellus’s throat. All the stunned faces locked on Catrin, but what she believed had been her defining moment dissipated when the king’s hand clenched her shoulder and yanked her back.

  “Enough!”

  Not only did Catrin’s shoulder stab with pain, but her heart stung from the humiliation of being publicly reprimanded. Her chagrin compounded when the king roughly whirled her into the arms of the queen. “Deal with her! Now!”

  The queen exacerbated Catrin’s humiliation by dragging her behind the elevated thrones for a scolding. “Never overstep your father! I repeat, never … never!”

  Catrin tried to argue, “But … but you told Father to stop—”

  “Shhh! Not another word.”

  Catrin seethed under her mother’s raised brow. She looked down at the rip in her trousers and bit her lower lip, tasting blood. The sudden grip of the queen’s hand about her arm reinforced the warning. “Stop it! Or I’ll have you strapped.”

  Forced to the side of the platform by the strong grip of her mother’s fingers around her arm, Catrin continued to simmer under her father’s scowl.

  This is not fair! I should be praised, not shamed!

  The king became stone-faced, stepped to the front of the platform, and lifted his hand to still his people and warriors. “Everyone, calm down! Put your weapons away. We have more honor than to attack our guests!”

  With sword in hand, Trystan shook his head in defiance. “I refuse. These Roman pigs have threatened us with their army.”

  When Catrin saw Belinus again press the knife against Marcellus’s neck, she felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat. She gasped and held her breath.

  The king bellowed, “Put your weapons down. Now!”

  Grimacing, Trystan sheathed his sword, his hand still ready on the hilt. Belinus and other warriors followed suit, also putting their weapons away. In turn, the senator signaled for his Roman soldiers to sheathe their swords.

  Exhaling relief, Catrin looked at Marcellus, whose eyes reflected the hottest of blue flames. She admired his courage. He had stayed calm, never flinching, even with a blade to his throat. He met her eyes as if thanking her. She bubbled with pride that, indeed, her bold action had made her father pause and reconsider his next moves. In truth, she had stopped the conflict and saved the handsome Roman. She smiled demurely at him.

  He returned the smile.

  With order returning to the chamber, Catrin closely watched her father to see what he would do next. Though his face was still flushed red, he nonetheless addressed the Romans with a more even voice.

  “Lucius, I will honor my pledge that no harm will come to your son. I do this despite my people’s anger over your unreasonable demands. To soothe hostilities, I propose you and I talk off site with Cunobelin to discuss new terms for a marital pact between my daughter and his son. That way, we can settle our political differences through the alliance this marriage will forge. This would be in everyone’s best interests, including Rome’s. Let me be clear,” the king said, hardening his stare, “I will never accept Marrock back as heir to my throne.”

  The senator grimaced. “What do you expect from me in return?”

  “Arrange a secret council between Cunobelin and me. You can act as arbitrator to insure a fair outcome. As a good faith measure, I propose your son, Marcellus, stay as my family’s guest until we reach a settlement.”

  The proposal pleased Catrin, her belly tickling with delight at the thought that she might get to know Marcellus better. After all, she again extolled herself, I did save his life. And he has a charming smile.

  The senator did not embrace the proposal. “What? Are you mad? Are you suggesting I leave my son as a hostage? I cannot agree to such a thing!”

  “No, I am quite sane,” King Amren retorted. “I ask no more of you than what Rome required of my father for assuring his yearly tribute. I was held in thrall during my earlier years when I learned your customs. Likewise, Marcellus will be retained to assure no harm visits me during our talks with Cunobelin in his territory. Then you can see the advantage of Marcellus learning our ways.”

  The king’s maneuver reminded Catrin of a fox tricking a rival predator to settle for other hunting grounds. Yet, when she studied Marcellus, he appeared stunned as his father leaned over to whisper something to him. The senator turned to the king and demanded, “Tell everyone to leave us, except for your advisors and family. I will entertain your terms, but matters such as these must be brokered by rulers, not by the whims of plebs.”

  The room seemed to swelter as Catrin anxiously wiped her sweaty palm on her breeches. She regarded Trystan’s scowl. If her father insisted he leave, Trystan would take it as an insult. The king could also anger other noble warriors in the chamber who had pledged their fealty to him for a small say in his realm. Her father must have also considered this; he quietly conversed with the queen before turning to the senator.

  “I agree on the condition you order most of your soldiers back to the ships. Only your advisors and a few guards are welcome to stay.”

  Again the senator hesitated, then threw out his final condition. “My son, tribune, and six guards will remain here. You must do the same with your warriors.”

  The king nodded.

  The noise rose in the chamber from the commoners, most of whom were unfamiliar with the Roman tongue. Catrin assumed they were agitated as a result of their confusion about what her father had agreed to.

  The king extended both arms, as if embracing his people. He announced, “No need to show further hostility toward our Roman guests. I ask everyone to go outside where a cauldron of wine is waiting for your drinking pleasure. My queen and advisors will represent everyone in this room as we confer with the emperor’s agents. Before we make any final decisions, my Druidess will offer a sacrifice to the gods and ask their favor on all agreements made today.”

  A cool breeze emanating behind the platform suddenly made Catrin shiver. She looked over her shoulder. When a wolf appeared to float out of a dark corner, she blinked with disbelief. She recognized Agrona’s eyes peering through the jaws of her wolf headdress. A black pelt was draped over her shoulders, wolf claws curled down her wrists and over her fingertips, and tattooed wolves appeared to creep down her arms.

  King Amren waved Agrona forward and introduced her to the Romans. “This is my spiritual advisor, Agrona. S
he will seek the blessings from the gods on our meeting today.”

  Agrona removed her headdress and climbed the stairs to join the king and the queen. The king once told Catrin that he believed Agrona bestowed strength and courage on any warrior she touched. He insisted that no one knew his enemies as well as she did. Nonetheless, Catrin felt wary of the Druidess. Her eyes switched from fiery green to amber-gold in the light of the silvery moon—a mark of a sorceress.

  Catrin studied the Romans’ reactions to Agrona. The senator was expressionless, except for a rise of his brows. Marcellus gaped at the Druidess, as if she were an apparition from the Otherworld. The Roman soldiers remained at attention, their shoulders squared and eyes fixed straight ahead. This was a show of discipline that her father’s commanders had not demonstrated when they threatened to kill Marcellus.

  The king then ordered Trystan to escort the commoners out of the chamber and return with his most trusted guards. Catrin could sense the Romans’ growing uneasiness when Trystan returned with other warriors. Marcellus and his father joined the tribune and his soldiers at the central fire where they spoke in hushed tones. After that, about half of the Roman guards left, leaving five of them in the chamber. Trystan, Belinus, and several king’s guards scattered across the room, their hands on sheathed weapons. The chamber quieted except for the scampering of rats along the walls, their vermin eyes aglow from the fiery torches.

  The hairs on Catrin’s neck prickled when she noticed Agrona’s eyes glowing like the rats, her lips twisted in a wicked grin. The next instant, Catrin felt a stabbing pain in her chest and tingling on her arms. She sensed her raven and looked up at the wooden rafters.

  There was nothing there.

  Heart racing, she again focused on her father as he told the senator, “So we can negotiate on friendlier terms, I propose that we offer a sacrifice to our gods and ask their favor in the outcome of our meeting.”

  Senator Lucius Antonius interjected, “The offering must be to a Roman god.”

  “Proclaim your god, then.”

  The senator lifted his left hand to reveal a gold signet ring on his finger. “Apollo, almighty god of the sun and divination and my family’s patron god.”

  The king lifted his arms toward the ceiling. “I also offer blood to our sun god, Bel, and his consort, Belisama—goddess of fire and light.” He then gestured to Agrona. “Prepare a suitable sacrifice to appease the gods.”

  Curiosity piqued about the ritual, Catrin intently watched Agrona descend the stairs, stride through the chamber, and disappear through the entryway. A little later, she reappeared in the doorway alongside a Druid, dressed in a white robe with a cowl shrouding his face. His hand was clenched around the curved horn of a struggling ram. Bleats of terror echoed throughout the chamber as Belinus helped the Druid drag the resistant ram into the chamber. A guard slammed the massive entrance door shut to prevent the animal from escaping.

  Most of the Romans turned to watch the struggle between the men and the ram. Marcellus alone appeared unrattled by the commotion. When he again met Catrin’s gaze, his blue eyes shimmered like a crystal lake at sunrise. She blushed and looked down, her heart pounding rapidly.

  Why do I feel this way?

  She had always had the mettle of a warrior with no fear of death. Yet this foreigner disarmed her every time he gazed at her. How could she resist her growing attraction for him and not plunge headlong into his fire?

  Loud drums shook Catrin from her longings. She watched Agrona dance around the ram, twirling one foot over the other, the tattooed flames on her leg flashing through a slit in her leather dress. When she quickened her steps, her hair flung wildly. Entranced warriors around her crouched, howled, and swiped at her bare leg to capture the wolf’s cunning, strength, and fierceness. Some Roman soldiers smirked while the mouths of others cracked open in awe as they watched the ritual.

  Agrona drew a knife from a leather strap tied to her thigh and approached the animal with the blade held close to her side. She stopped a few feet from the ram and shouted in Celtic, “Bel, send us your sun to shine on today’s truths. Belisama, send us water to reflect past, present, and future.” Her voice wailed above the drum’s pitch as she prayed in Latin. “All mighty Apollo, god of sun, Romans and Cantiaci beseech you, accept our blood offering. Feast on this unblemished ram’s tissue and bones. In return, we humbly request …”— the sorceress looked at the metal-rimmed oak door—“your blessing.”

  The drum beats rumbled throughout the chamber. Catrin, becoming feverish with anticipation, sensed the approach of the climax as Agrona slowly circled the bleating ram and lifted her ceremonial knife. The blade glimmered in the torchlight as she waved it over the ram’s head. She cried out, “Apollo, reveal your divine messenger.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she slit the creature’s throat. Blood spurted over the ram’s pristine wool and the animal collapsed on the floor. A crimson puddle formed beneath its head.

  The massive outer door rattled and crashed open in a roaring wind. Red embers popped out of the hearth and choking soot rained on the chamber. Out of the billowing cloud of smoke, a raven swooped through the chamber. Invisible behind the smokescreen, Agrona raised her voice above the clamor. “Behold, the raven rises out of Apollo’s flames.”

  5

  Spirit warrior

  “No matter what you see during the ritual, reassure my people and the Romans that Apollo will favor our decisions today. Do you understand?”

  Catrin recognized the shadowy creature hovering over the thrones as her raven. Dumbstruck, she watched it land at her feet and then looked to her mother. The queen’s eyes were frozen in terror at the raven.

  Agrona declared, “Apollo sends his messenger to reveal the fate from today’s decisions.”

  Catrin’s mind whirled about what the Druidess had just proclaimed. It seemed nonsensical that the Roman god, Apollo, would use her raven as his messenger. The creature had never revealed any divination from the sun god.

  Or had it?

  On the white cliffs, earlier that morning, the raven had shot like an arrow across the sun’s fiery glow. Catrin remembered a tale told by a Greek merchant that Apollo had slain a Cyclops with an arrow. The sun god asked the northern people, the Hyperboreans, to hide his arrow in a winged temple. Perhaps, indeed, Apollo did send her raven as his messenger.

  Through the lingering haze, she could see shadowy images shuffle near the entryway where the ram had been sacrificed. A cacophony of shouts rumbled into the chamber.

  One man yelled, “What has happened?”

  A woman shrilled, “A raven, I saw a raven fly in!”

  “The gods are cursing us,” said others.

  Catrin’s eyes began to burn from the acrid smoke. She closed them and rubbed her eyelids to soothe the irritation. Amidst the loud coughing, she heard a man’s gruff voice yell, “Protect Lucius and Marcellus,” which was followed by stomping boots.

  Alarmed, Catrin forced her eyes open to find that Roman soldiers had encircled Marcellus and his father, forming a shield wall to protect them. She could barely see the senator’s face when he said, “We will not begin the meeting until Apollo has sent us a favorable omen.”

  The king said in a firm, reassuring voice, “There is no reason for concern, Lucius. Agrona will speak to my people and assure them the gods have sent a favorable omen. She will inspect the ram’s entrails on an altar outside for a sign from Apollo. Meanwhile, you can wait in here until a table has been set with food and wine for your enjoyment.”

  The senator said, “Arrange for it.”

  Catrin watched Agrona exit the chamber. From outside, her words, which were meant for the commoners, drifted back into the receiving hall. “My people, you have nothing to fear. Rest assured that the sun god accepts our offering. The bright one sends his raven to proclaim that Catrin will deliver his message. Clear a pathway. I m
ust complete the ritual with her to appease the Roman sun god, Apollo, so he will favor any decisions made on this day.”

  Agrona’s pronouncement stunned Catrin. Why had the sorceress drawn attention to her?

  The white-robed Druid then dragged the ram through the doorway, the animal’s head thumping on the door jamb. Lips quivering, Catrin did not know what to do. Should she join him or stay? She looked to her parents for direction.

  The queen’s face was aflame when she gripped the king’s arm. “That raven is a bad omen, a curse!”

  From their mumbling and grim faces, Catrin could tell her parents were in a heated argument. She bit her lip. Why did her mother say the raven was a curse? Disconcerted, she stepped to the back of the dais.

  The king glanced at her, seemingly aware that she was anxious. He walked over and kissed her gently on the forehead, then wrapped his arms around her and said in a hushed voice, “I know you don’t understand what is going on. Trust me, and do what I say. No matter what you see during the ritual, reassure my people and the Romans that Apollo will favor our decisions today. Do you understand?”

  A foreboding shiver ran down Catrin’s spine. Nevertheless, she reluctantly nodded, affirming her understanding.

  King Amren nudged her toward the raven waddling near her feet. “Take that creature out of here and do what Agrona says. Later, we’ll talk about what I expect of you.”

  The words “expect of you” chilled Catrin. What more could her father ask of her? Did he know that she had already harnessed the raven’s powers? The only words she could utter to him were, “Oh, yes.” Then she knelt and coaxed her raven onto her arm. A burning sensation discharged from the raven’s claws.