True Tomas and the 9th Legion

Tamandua

Wily old Howel had decided that it would be better to "see how the land lies" before making an offer of a marriage alliance. It would also give Cynar a chance to look over his prospective bride and to wriggle out of the arrangement if he felt he couldn't stand her. Accordingly, Howel, revived the idea of trading Brigantian sheep for Parisian pottery.

Cynar was reluctant to say the least, but he knew that he would have to go along with his father's plan, at least as far as giving the girl the once over, though, from what he had heard, she was, at 30, far from a girl, and, what was worse, far from a beauty. Even those things might be overlooked if she hadn't earned the reputation of being a bit of a harridan.

But, no sooner were they through the gates of Caer Tada than they saw something that put a different perspective on things: a conturbium– of ten Roman legionaries stood on guard outside the roundhouse.

"What's this all about?" enquired Howel of his escort.

"The Roman Governor, Cerealis, is visiting King Gwael on affairs of state – high affairs, I can tell you, though I don't know what, exactly. Such things are not for a lowly gate-ward to know – but I do know that the king will not be able to see you."

"Not see me!" said Cyrnar, much surprised, "... Venutio's son and heir – who will one day, Dus be willing, be high king of Brigantia!"

The gate-ward bowed his obeisance to this eminent visitor and promised to take the matter to the king's steward. The steward was apologetic and eager to set things to rights. "The king will be informed of your visit, and as for the trade deal, I'm sure that can be arranged."

****

Later, Cynar found himself seated at the high table as one of King Gwael's guests of honour. Gwael himself was a disgusting specimen of a man: old and grey, but without dignity, despite his numerous arm-rings and over-elaborate crown. He was looking smug and proud, seeming to think he was the most important person on all Prydain – probably because sitting next to him was the governor of Britannia, Quintus Petillius Cerialisalis, looking magnificent in his senatorial toga and circlet of laurel leaves, token of his victories when legate of the 9th legion.

He was less impressed by another conturbium of legionaries standing in a rigid line behind the high table as a bodyguard for the governor, but then, that was to be expected. He only hoped that these legionaries did not suddenly turn on him as an enemy of Rome – even if on a diplomatic mission. That thought reminded Cynar of why he was there, and he scanned the hall for any sign of the king's daughter, Egron – but, just then, there were no women present.

That changed, a moment later, when a procession of women came through a side door. They were led by an elderly duenna dressed in black whom Cynar assumed to be the queen, but who later turned out to be the queen mother. At her side was the most beautiful woman Cynar had ever seen. She was about 18 with long red-gold curls, framing an oval face, with pearl-pale skin and rose-red lips. Her eyes were as blue as hyacinths glistening with dew and her expression s downcast – could it be that she had been crying?

Cynar's heart leapt. If this was Egron, he would take her there and then! Never mind Gwael's politicking with Cerialis! He would find a moment when the king was free and ask for his daughter's hand in marriage.

But Howel, sitting close at hand, whispered, "That's not her."

Cynar's heart sank.

"That's her," continued Howel, nodding discreetly towards a stick of a woman just behind her.

As it happened, she was not as bad as she had been painted. A bit thin, perhaps, a bit sour-faced, a bit haughty, but certainly no Gwrach-y-Rhibyn (Hag-of-the-Mist), and, had he not seen the other, he might even have steeled himself to do his duty.

"But who is that?" he said, nodding towards the beauty, who was being led towards the high table by the duenna.

"Tamandua."

"Not...!"

"Yes. Cartimandua's daughter, and, since her death, Brenhines y Brigantiad – the high queen of the Brigantes."

Cynar regarded her in awe as he tried to match the self-effacing beauty with the fierce high queen he had met many years ago. He watched as she was handed to the seat on the left hand of King Gwael – and wondered why. Gwael said something to her in a low voice and licked his lips as though he was going to eat her. Indeed, he positively drooled as he gazed at her.

Cynar looked a question at Howel, who murmured some further questions to the steward, who was sitting on his left. After a moment, he turned back to Cynar and said, "The governor is offering her to Gwael in marriage."

"But...!"

"Yes, that will make him high king of Brigantia! The governor sees him as a useful puppet king and the marriage with Tamandua will give him legitimacy."

"But...!"

Howel nodded. He knew what Gwael was about to say – probably blurting it out in an over-loud voice – and put his finger on his lips to counsel silence. Then he whispered, "Your father ceased to be high king when Cartimandua divorced him..."

"But...!"

Once again, Cynar was in danger of drawing attention to himself. Howel "shushed" him and continued: "Which he knows very well. However, he is the de facto high king – and so will you be if you keep your head."

Cyner frowned as he looked again at the leering old man and his innocent young victim.

"It's not that," he said, "It's just that – well, I feel sorry for her."

Howel grunted. "I'd feel sorry for yourself if I were you, because you'll be going home empty handed, without that alliance your father wanted you to make."

"Never mind the alliance – I'll make a better one! With Tamandua! I've never seen such beauty, and such a gracious manner. You can see that's she's upset by that lothario's advances – look how he strokes her arm and leers at her bosom – but she bears it like a lady. Ah! Cartimandua would have picked up her table knife and stuck it in his guts by now! Her beauty is too rich for an oaf like him – for earth too dear! Did my heart love till now – never! For she is the most beautiful I've seen – ever!"

Howel considered his words, then said, as gently as he could, "My lord, I'm sure your father would say that 'love' and 'beauty' have nothing to do with it."

Cynar turned to face him: "For me, it is love and beauty – for my father it is the best alliance I could ever make."

"Then the Romans will be after you."

"They are after us already."