The Warrior’s Princess

Carmella, a tall, elegant woman in her forties, held out her hand languidly and took the box. ‘I haven’t seen these since Stefano died. Do you remember how often we would read them?’ She smiled at Kim, raising one of her startlingly black, fly away eyebrows.

Kim nodded, suddenly wistful. ‘He loved to watch you do it, but he would never let you do a reading for him. Perhaps if you had –’

‘No!’ Carmella started shuffling the deck. ‘No, don’t think of that. What was to be, was to be.’ She flicked her dark hair out of her eyes and leaned forward to take a puff from the cigarette lying in the onyx ashtray near her coffee cup. ‘Now, let me see what the cards have to say. This is about your sister, Steph?’

Steph nodded.

‘Tell me her name.’

‘Jess.’

‘And do you have anything of hers with you? Perhaps a letter? A piece of jewellery to make the connection.’

Steph thought for a moment. ‘I have a scarf of hers. I liked it so much she gave it to me.’

‘That is good. Get it.’

Steph watched amused as Carmella cut the pack and then laid out the cards on the coffee table. It was years since she had seen anyone read the tarot. Probably not since she had been a student and done it herself. Carmella did it with superb style, she had to give her that. She lay back in her chair and sipped her coffee, watching as Carmella turned up the first card, Jess’s scarf lying on her knee, a splash of emerald against the black of the woman’s skirt.

‘Ah, il fante di denari. The page of coins; pentacles you call them, si? This is Jess. A page can represent a woman, you know that?’ She glanced round. Turning back to the table she ran her finger thoughtfully over the card. The eyes of every person in the room were fixed on her hands as she turned up the next and sat staring down at the layout in front of her. She was frowning. ‘Non capisco,’ she murmured to herself. ‘This is very strange. There are two different people here. We have two women. You see? Il fante dibastoni, the page of wands. But this one represents una ragazza. A much younger woman. Very important in the reading. They are linked in some way.’ She turned a third card. ‘And here with them we have il re di coppe al negativo.’ She paused, shaking her head. ‘Here is violence, scandal, treachery. A bad man in the lives of these two women.’ She glanced up, concerned. ‘And here. Il matto, the fool. He heralds a journey for all these people. I think not literally – maybe a step into the unknown. No, also a journey in reality.’ She turned up three more cards in quick succession. ‘There is so much here.’ She spread her hands over the cards. ‘They are on a quest. Your sister, Steph, has set out on a journey she cannot escape. She travels with another woman, maybe a child, and behind them follows this man. The cards never tell a lie, but this and this –’ Her hand strayed over the cards, stroking them, reading them almost like Braille. ‘This is too strange. There is love here; new love. Strong love, but also danger. And fear. And threats.’

‘Oh God!’ Steph whispered under her breath. She and Kim exchanged glances.

‘Perhaps,’ Kim said suddenly, clearing her throat, ‘this is not a good idea. Why don’t we have another drink and forget it.’

‘No.’ Carmella raised a commanding hand. ‘Aspetta! No, this is important. It is telling me something very important about your sister. She needs to be warned that she is in danger.’

‘Oh God!’ Steph repeated. She stood up as a murmur of concern ran round the room. Everyone was looking at her. No one seemed to doubt Carmella. No one was looking superior and cynical and scoffing as they would at a dinner party in London. They were all hanging on every word.

‘Carmella, stop it!’ Kim said. ‘That’s enough. You are frightening her!’

‘So, you don’t want to know? You don’t want to save her?’

‘Yes, of course I want to know.’ Steph sat down again. She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Go on.’

Carmella looked up at her for a moment, then she glanced back at the cards. ‘There is another man here.’ Her finger paused over the king of swords. She frowned. ‘Your sister’s father? He is wounded.’

‘Our father is dead,’ Steph put in sharply.

Carmella shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. This is definitely someone’s father. The other girl, perhaps. Do you know who she is?’ She looked up. ‘And there are soldiers here.’ She leaned closer to the cards for a minute. ‘And here, I see danger again.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘Here it is clear. There are two lives here and this,’ she tapped a card, ‘is your sister and someone wants to kill her!’ She sat back and stared at Steph, her eyes wide. ‘Dio mio, we are told never to forecast a death. Never! This is awful!’

‘And it’s tosh, Carmella!’ Kim looked really angry. ‘This was supposed to comfort her, not make things worse.’ She stood up. ‘Enough! Let’s have some Limoncello, then you should all go home!’

‘I’m going to ring the police!’ Steph hadn’t moved. She was sitting staring at the cards.

‘Don’t be an idiot! You can’t ring the police because of a tarot reading!’ Kim bent forward and swept all the cards into a heap. ‘That’s it. Finished. I am going to put them away.’

‘I’ll ring the Prices. Meg and Ken won’t mind going over to Ty Bran and seeing if she is all right.’ Steph stood up. ‘Don’t be angry with Carmella. I knew there was something wrong.’ She headed for the telephone, in the hallway, leaving the others all staring at each other.

The phone at Cwm-nant rang and rang. There was no reply. Steph slammed down the phone. Picking it up again she tried Ty Bran’s number. The line was still dead. Then she tried Jess’s mobile. It was still switched off.

‘Leave it, Steph.’ Kim appeared behind her. She had brought a bottle from the fridge in the kitchen and a tray of liqueur glasses. Pouring one out she put it down on the hall stand beside the telephone. ‘Get that down you. I’m so sorry. It was a stupid, stupid idea doing the tarot. I should have remembered how melodramatic Carmella can be.’

Steph picked up the glass and sipped it. The strong cold shot of lemon revived her a bit. ‘I don’t know who to ring, Kim. Jess is all alone up there. There is no one there I know well enough to ask them to drive up into the hills in the middle of the night to see if my sister is OK.’

‘I bet you she’s fine.’ Kim guided her back towards the kitchen and onto a stool by the table. ‘I tell you what. Tomorrow, if you can’t contact her by then, we’ll ring the police and you can explain how worried you are, OK? Honestly. I don’t think you can ring them tonight. Not on the strength of a card reading. They would think you were nuts. And they wouldn’t go. You know that as well as I do. There is no point in even trying.’

‘And what if someone is trying to kill her?’ Steph took another swig from the Limoncello.

‘Why on earth should someone try and kill Jess?’ Kim grabbed Steph by the shoulders. ‘Think about it, you idiot! What could Jess have possibly done that would warrant that!’

‘Will was trying to find her. He rang –’

‘Oh yes! And Will is trying to kill her? I thought you said he was still desperately in love with her.’

Steph shook her head. ‘I’m being stupid, aren’t I. I know I am. Sorry.’

‘At last! Sense. There was love in those cards as well, remember? Right, I’m going to send the others home. Go to bed, Steph. Sleep well. It will all be all right in the morning, you’ll see. The phone will be mended and you will find that Jess has been there all the time.’

For the second time Jess had locked the house and eased herself into the driver’s seat. Terrified that she would meet Dan’s car in the narrow lane she groped for the key and turned it in the ignition. The engine caught. With a little prayer of gratitude she eased up the clutch but as she began to turn the wheel to manoeuvre out of the yard the car engine coughed and died. ‘No! Please God, no!’ Leaning forward, her hands shaking, she turned the key again.

It was ten minutes before she gave up.

Nothing would persuade her to ring Rhodri again. She had her pride!

All she could do was take his advice after all, lock herself in and wait out the night. Perhaps Rhodri was right and Dan wasn’t coming.

The doors were locked and bolted for good measure, the windows closed, the curtains drawn, when Jess finally went to bed. Lying back on the pillows she stared at the window, not even bothering to open the book which rested on her knees. There was nothing to be afraid of. What could Dan do, even if he did come? She glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Outside in the wood she could hear two tawny owls exchanging calls, the low hoots of the female echoing round the hillside, the sharp response of the male so loud he might have been sitting in the courtyard. She shivered and slid further down in the bed.

Publius Ostorius Scapula stood in his tent looking down at the woman who had been brought before him. She was dark-haired, slim, beautiful and very pale, the bruises on her face and throat still visible. One of his spies had given him some background on this woman. The eldest daughter of the last king of the Silures, the local and oh-so-troublesome tribe of these accursed southern Cambrian hills, she was Caratacus’s second wife. The first had died in childbirth so he understood. This second he had chosen with great acumen from the tribe in whose lands he had settled to spearhead his opposition to Rome. And she had done him proud, giving him three children, two girls and a boy and, so he had heard, her unswerving loyalty and love. She had great dignity and courage, this Celtic queen, in spite of her position as his captive.

‘I have news for you, lady,’ he said at last. ‘Your husband has been found.’ He saw the flash of hope in those beautiful grey eyes. ‘He was severely wounded but is, I understand, on the way to recovery.’

‘Where is he?’ The question came out as a whisper. She looked at him nervously, trying to be brave, meeting him eye to eye.

‘He fled north,’ he said slowly. ‘To the land of the Brigantes, assuming he would find succour there.’ His voice gave no clue to his feelings. ‘He threw himself on the mercy of Queen Cartimandua, who is, I understand, a kinswoman of his.’ She was smiling now. He moved across to the table, covered in maps and rolls of parchment and sat down, looking up at her thoughtfully. ‘You do not, perhaps, realise, that the queen is a client of Rome, sworn to the Emperor as our ally and friend.’

Cerys went white.

‘She has done her duty to Rome and informed us that Caratacus is now her captive. When he is well enough he will be transferred to my custody. I shall have him taken to Camulodunum to await word of the Emperor’s pleasure regarding his fate.’

To do her justice she did not flinch. Her shoulders remained straight, her face after that initial pallor without expression.

‘I shall send you there as well, with your daughter. I understand she was attacked by one of my men?’

Cerys looked him in the eye. ‘We were both raped by your men, General.’

‘As soon as they are identified they will be punished. You have my word on that, lady. As to your other children,’ his voice softened slightly. ‘I understand every effort has been made to locate them.’