Emperor by Stephen Baxter Read Free Book Online Page A

overwhelmed his and Agrippina’s dreams of the future. She realised that by turning inwards she was hurting him. But she wanted to avoid speaking to him, thinking about him, touching him, for fear of harming him, and herself.
    As for Nectovelin, he rode locked in a grim silence of his own, as unreadable as a lump of flint.
    On exhausted horses, they came into Camulodunum on the evening of the second day. As they followed a well-beaten track down a shallow slope, Agrippina saw the town spread across the lowland before her, following the bank of its river. It sprawled for miles, a splash of green and brown in which the conical forms of houses stood proud, smoke seeping from their thatched roofs into the gathering gloom. The three of them worked their way through ditches and ramparts, and when they reached the first houses they dismounted and walked their horses along muddy alleys, stepping over chickens and children. There was a strong scent of wood smoke, of animal dung, of food cooking, and the sharp tang of hot metal.
    This was the capital of the Catuvellaunians, who had taken it from the Trinovantes in Cunobelin’s subtle conquest some decades ago. It was surely one of the most significant clusters of population in the south-east, indeed in the whole of Britain. There was industry here, smiths and leather-workers, potters and carpenters. Why, there was even a mint here, for Cunobelin, growing rich on his trade with Roman Gaul, had gone so far as to issue his own currency. Agrippina, coming from the more sparsely populated lands of the Brigantians in the north, had been mightily impressed with the place the first time she saw it.
    But now she saw Camulodunum as if through the eyes of an invading legionary. There was no sense of planning here, none of the neat grid-system layout of a major Roman town. Green pushed right into the centre of the settlement, fields with wheat growing, or sheep and cattle grazing, as if Camulodunum was one vast farm. To a Roman this would scarcely be a town at all. Even the defences were just straggling lines of dykes and ditches.
    But the place was busy today. People moved everywhere, lugging bundles of cloth and wooden chests. Leading her horse through this confusion, Agrippina sensed anxiety.
    ‘The place is stirred up,’ Cunedda murmured. ‘They have heard about the Romans already.’
    Nectovelin walked close to Agrippina. ‘News travels fast. We were probably the first to see the Romans, but you can’t hide legions.’
    Agrippina said, ‘They seem to be more busy hiding their treasure than preparing to resist.’
    Nectovelin shrugged. ‘What did you expect? These are farmers. They have children, stock, corn in the fields.’
    Cunedda said nervously, ‘My uncles will already have called their war council.’
    ‘Those hot-head princes,’ Nectovelin growled. ‘Let us hope that wise minds win the argument.’
    They reached Cunedda’s house. His sister and aunt lived here. At Cunedda’s call, two ungainly dogs came bounding around the house’s curving wall from the smallholding at the back. Cunedda submitted to leaps and face-licking, clearly relishing the uncomplicated pleasure of the dogs’ affection.
    Agrippina watched him, her heart twisting. ‘The dogs make him happy.’
    Nectovelin said softly, ‘He has suffered too, Agrippina.’
    ‘If I had not been in Cunedda’s arms then I would have been with Mandubracius. I might have stopped him going down to the beach.’
    ‘ If and then . You could not have known, Pina. Even if not for Cunedda the outcome might have been the same. This is hard for you, harder than for any of us. It’s not just losing Mandubracius. In a moment you went from admiring Rome, never believing they would come here, to loathing them with a passion. You must not blame yourself, or Cunedda, for any of this. And your love for Cunedda will help you now.’
    ‘Will it? Cousin, I think I hate the Roman who killed Mandubracius, though I have never seen his