Caledonia, land of cold and rain (deuxième partie)

The scene shifts from the little Roman fort to the home of the Caledonians, a dark broch (precursor of the tower house) standing proud on its own rocky peninsula. Despujol’s graphics are fabulous (p. 16).

The young Caledonian champions, Cirig and Fel, argue over the correct course of action (p. 17). “My daughter will be yours Cirig, if you bring her back to her people”, says Galam, the chieftain.

“Leta is able to escape on her own”, counters Fel. “I’m sure she would consider our help insulting. In any case”, he continues, “she has only herself to blame”.

But Galam knows that there are other allies he can call upon — allies to be cultivated by the crone, Isla. “My stones will determine the next sacrifice”, she says ominously (p. 18).

Conversing with the enemy

Back in the little fort, although the sentries are on high alert, they report that “All is quiet”. Meanwhile, despite losing 4 pints of blood, Leta has made a miraculous recovery, thanks to a poultice of Cretan dittany; but the medic is keeping her bound and gagged, “because she has formidable claws and fangs and threatens to rip my throat every time I approach her!” (p. 19)

Against his advice, Lucius the centurion unties her, whereupon she wrestles him to the ground and would surely have strangled him, if the medic hadn’t intervened (pp. 20–21). It transpires that, conveniently, Leta is fluent in the language of the Romans, which she learned during two years of captivity. “You’re not getting away from here”, promises Lucius, for the girl is now tied to the fence outside (p. 22). “We shall see”, she replies. Lucius explains that it is the Roman mission to halt tribal warfare and pacify Caledonia, but Leta is defiant: “Whatever our tribes do is none of your business!”

Days pass (p. 23), and Lucius comes to realize that, even if you capture a wild animal, it’s impossible to tame it. Over a meal, he tries to convince her that Roman peace benefits everyone (p. 24). Again Corbeyran’s prose soars like the seagulls that flit across Despujol’s drawings. (Je suis née sur cette terre. Elle m’a donné la force de la tempête et la douceur de la brise. Elle m’a façonnée. Les miens m’ont appris tout ce que je devais savoir pour vivre en harmonie avec mes semblables, les collines, la mer et les dieux. Et toi, tu juges notre façon de vivre sans rien connaître. Pourquoi devrais-je t’écouter?) Leta remains unconvinced. “If you’re treating me to a meal in order to convince me of the benefits of Roman civilisation, so that I will persuade my father, let’s get it over with”, she laughs. “You may as well lock me up in a cage!” As night falls, Lucius duly complies (p. 25).

At this point, Corbeyran’s story-telling starts to step up a gear. So far, Caledonia could be an untold episode from Tacitus’ Agricola. But gradually, misbegotten creatures of the night creep into the narrative. A single arrow announces the arrival of a group of Caledonians, but they stand off as if waiting (pp. 26–27). Just then, two giant lizards cross the rampart, snatching soldiers left and right in their wicked jaws. Lucius calls for Leta to be released and seizes her as a human shield, yelling “Tell them to stop or I slice your throat!” (pp. 28–29)

Leta cries out in Gaelic: caomhain mi, caomhain iad “Hell dogs! Spare me, spare them!” The creatures depart, but Lucius has questions for Leta: “From what hell did they emerge and who commands them?” Calling for a map, she explains that the answers lie on the “Island of Death” offshore from the Caledonians’ broch.

To be continued ...