Death of an Empire Read Online Free PDF Page B

journey as well as enriching them, while bringing new dangers of robbery from unscrupulous and desperate outlaws.
    Finn Truthteller had been grimly silent as they passed the hillock of greening earth where so many Saxons had died during Hengist’s war, and he shuddered as he spied the standing slab of marble with its carving of the running horse. Knowing that Finn still suffered the lash of memory and a shadow of dishonour, Myrddion joined his servant in the second wagon as they passed an old, fire-scarred Roman villa.
    ‘You need not be concerned to look upon the ruins left by the Night of the Long Knives, friend Finn,’ the healer offered when he saw the shaking hands and quivering lips of his friend. ‘Hengist’s revenge on Vortimer’s Celts was no stain on your honour.’
    ‘I am the Truthteller, Lord Myrddion, and Hengist left me aliveto testify to the death of Prince Catigern at this place. Many good men perished here, but I was saved to recount the tale. I’ll not run from a memory, master. I can’t. Better to face my ghosts and save my sanity.’
    Myrddion laid one sensitive hand on Finn’s arm where he could feel the bunched muscles that were a mute betrayal of Truthteller’s internal suffering. ‘You’re right. I somehow expected the villa to be larger and more oppressive than it is, when you consider its reputation. But, like all bad dreams, its reality is far less impressive than the memories it holds. It has become a worthless pile of fire-scarred bricks and stone rubble. See? The trees are beginning to grow through the open rooms and little will soon remain to remind us of what happened here.’
    ‘Aye,’ Finn replied slowly, as Myrddion felt some of the tension leave the man’s arm. ‘Weeds are covering the cracked flagstones and ivy is breaking up what is left of the foundations.’ Then, just as Myrddion thought that Finn had managed to banish his constant companions of shame and guilt, the older man cursed. ‘I wonder if Catigern lived for a time under Horsa’s body?’ Myrddion saw a single tear drop from Finn’s frozen face.
    ‘I don’t know, Finn. But if he did, Catigern deserved to suffer. He was a brutal man who is better under the sod. He’d have betrayed us all for the chance to win a crown.’
    ‘Aye,’ Finn replied once more. He shook his brown curls and used the reins to slap the rump of the carthorse. ‘Better to be off on the seas and away from these bad memories.’
    Dubris still retained its links with the legions in its orderly roadways and official stone buildings, but the healers could see evidence of the growing malaise of carelessness in the pillaging of the old forum for building materials. Marble sculptures of old Roman gods had been carted away to be crushed and turned into lime,leaving empty plinths of the coarser stone so that, uneasily, Myrddion fancied that Dubris was cannibalising its own flesh.
    But the docks displayed the bustle and industry of any busy port. Vessels of all types jostled for moorings along the crude wooden wharves, while traders haggled with ships’ masters in half a dozen exotic languages. Running, grunting under the weight of huge bundles, or driving wagons drawn by mules, oxen and the occasional spavined horse, servants and slaves moved cargoes to warehouses or loaded ships with trade goods for the markets across the narrow sea that linked Britain and the land of the Franks. Above the din of commerce, Myrddion could barely make himself heard as he gave his instructions to Cadoc.
    ‘Sell our horses for the best prices you can get,’ Myrddion ordered as he ran an experienced eye over the rawboned beasts as they strained under their heavy loads. ‘Judging by the standard of animals we can see here, you’ll get a good price for our horseflesh. The wagons will have to go as well, but remember that we’ll have to buy others once we make landfall. Don’t let the bastards cheat us!’
    ‘It’ll be my pleasure, Master Myrddion. The