Maddie frowned. ‘I don’t think Viv is going to agree to that.’
‘It would take the strain off her. She’s very stressed.’ Pat leaned forward. ‘Let me suggest it to her if there is any more delay.’ She looked away from Maddie and glanced towards the window for a moment, forcing herself to relax, willing herself not to care either way. Staring out at the columns of the monument on Calton Hill in the distance she took a deep breath. Don’t seem too anxious. Keep this low key. She didn’t understand herself why it was suddenly so important that she took charge, but it was.
‘You say here you’ve some ideas on how to push the rest of the story through more dramatically,’ Maddie went on as if on cue. She was flicking through the script. ‘That’s good, and now that we’ve rescheduled this for later in the year you’ve got much more time. That should give Viv the chance to de-stress, I hope. I really want her on board, Pat. This is her story,’ she added firmly as she glanced at the woman sitting opposite her, half sensing that Pat was up to something.
Pat nodded. It was as if Medb was there in the room with them. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll do some work on it and speak to Viv, then I’ll come back to you with the new ideas.’
Out in the street, she slung her bag over her shoulder and began to walk quickly up towards Princes Street. Reaching into her pocket for her mobile she called Viv yet again. She had left other messages, all of them prompted by Medb but so far there had been no response. ‘Do you want to meet up? I’ve just been to see Maddie. Good news. She liked what we’ve done so far. She’s made some good suggestions. Slight changes of emphasis, that sort of thing.’ Best to let Viv think the alterations in plotline were Maddie’s idea. Pat gave a quiet satisfied smile. That would please Medb. ‘We must get together soon. Phone me. ASAP.’
Clicking off the phone and slipping it back into her bag she spotted a taxi. If she went back to Abercromby Place now, with luck Cathy would still be out and she could spend the rest of the day working on her new ideas.
Viv rang back that evening. ‘I’m sorry, Pat. I’ve been out of town. When do you want to meet?’ She sounded cheerful. Normal.
They settled on the following morning.
‘Is she OK?’ Cathy overheard the end of the call as she walked in.
‘Fine.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
Pat had been working on her laptop in the living room, Cartimandua, Queen of the North open on the table beside her, the floor covered in sheets of paper. ‘I’ve still got a huge amount of rewriting to do.’ Stretching her arms above her head, she yawned. ‘Maddie’s not happy with Viv’s contribution. I’m not sure how we’re going to handle this.’ She hesitated, suddenly aware of what she had said. It wasn’t true. She took a deep breath. ‘We’re changing the angle slightly. More about other, more interesting characters. Including the Romans.’ That was true at least. Or it would be by the time she had talked Viv round. Leaning down to her capacious bag she dug for a pen and her battered, overstuffed Filofax. ‘There are too many obscure Celtic names for a start. We need people with short easy names.’
Medb.
Maeve.
‘I’ve convinced Maddie that Romans are more sexy, too. All that leather.’
Cathy shook her head in mock exasperation. ‘This is radio, Pat, not TV.’
‘Leather squeaks. And Romans march. Sound effects are doubly important on radio.’ Pat laughed.
‘Viv hasn’t mentioned the Romans at all to me,’ Cathy said. She was carrying a flat box and a bottle of wine. They had spoken briefly at tea time. On realising that neither Pete nor Tasha would be home that evening they had planned a girls’ evening in. ‘Are you sure they’re relevant?’
‘Of course. You still haven’t read her book, have you? The Roman invasion of Britain in AD 43 took place in Cartimandua’s time.’ Pat glanced down at her notes. ‘And I intend there to be some sexy Roman generals in the play. People can visualise Romans. Think Ben Hur. Think Gladiator.’
Cathy grimaced. ‘So, you’re going to have lots of romance and violence?’
Pat nodded. ‘Buckets of it. The story does rather lend itself to all that.’
‘Poor Viv. I’m not sure she sees it that way.’
‘She will. You leave her to me.’ Pushing her papers together and closing the Filofax, Pat shut the laptop. Time to change the subject. ‘Is that our pizza?’
Nodding, Cathy slid the box down onto the table and produced a couple of glasses. ‘I’m saving her book for the summer holidays,’ she said, sitting beside Pat. ‘Surely Maddie’s not suggesting Viv hands the project over to you completely?’ Opening the box, she returned to the subject as she passed Pat a plate and a paper napkin.
Shrugging, Pat helped herself to a slice of pizza. ‘I suspect that’s what’s at the back of her mind.’ At the back of Medb’s mind. Pat frowned. She was beginning to believe this herself. ‘It would be tricky to get Viv to pull out but I’m certain she’d rather do that than lose the chance to see her work on radio. She would still get a credit.’ She was skilfully manoeuvring sticky strings of melted cheese.
Cathy grimaced, helping herself to a portion. ‘I can’t believe she would want that.’
Pat shrugged. ‘I’ll sound her out tomorrow.’
‘Tactfully.’
‘Of course tactfully!’
In her bedroom later Pat stood at the open window, the hand which held her cigarette resting outside on the window sill. Frowning, she watched the wisp of smoke drift out into the night as she leaned there on her elbows, thinking about the play.
All her notes this afternoon had been about Medb. Medb was the key character, a strong determined free spirit. An interesting foil for Cartimandua. A tough, resilient focus for dramatic tension. An alternative heroine. A fictional heroine according to Viv, but nevertheless a vital part of the story. She chewed her lip. She was imposing a storyline which was not in Viv’s book, but this was after all why she had been brought in to help Viv out; she knew what was needed to make drama work.
With a sigh she took a final puff on the cigarette, ground it out on the sill and tossed it outside. Turning out the lamp she stood for a moment in the darkness, conscious of the pale silhouette of the open window. It was then she became gradually aware of the face near hers in the dark, the strange staring eyes, the transparent figure standing between her and the table. Gasping with fear, she groped for the switch and flooded the room with light again, blinking. There was no one there.
She sat down on the bed, her heart thumping unsteadily. How much had they had to drink? Taking a deep breath, she climbed into bed, leaving the light on, and lay back on the pillows, her eyes fixed on the spot by the table where for a fraction of a second the figure had shown itself.
Medb.
The new heroine of the play.
III
‘Do you know what happened to Medb after Cartimandua had her kidnapped?’ Ashen, with red-rimmed eyes Pat pushed past Viv and threw herself onto the sofa.
Viv stared at her, cold all over. ‘How do you know Cartimandua had her kidnapped?’ Her eyes strayed to her desk where an ever-increasing pile of notes lay beside the computer.
‘I know all about it! Carta thought she was so clever, didn’t she! Out of sight, out of mind! Sell her into slavery, what a wonderful vicious revenge. Did she ever give her another thought? I doubt it!’
Viv was speechless for a moment. This was the stuff of her own nightmares. They hadn’t talked about it. She swallowed. ‘Pat, how do you know all this?’
‘Guess?’ Pat said coldly. ‘She told me last night.’
‘Medb?’ Viv could hardly bring herself to say the name out loud.
‘Yes, Medb. Medb who was dragged away in chains. Sold to a merchant who threw her and her two companions into the hold of his ship and set sail for Gaul.’ Pat paused with a shiver.
Viv was staring at her in horror. This couldn’t be happening. Pat knew nothing about this. Nothing. She sat down on the edge of the rocker, her ey
es fixed on Pat’s face. ‘So what happened?’
‘What happened?’ Pat almost spat out the words. ‘I’ll tell you what happened. They raped her!’
Viv was silent. ‘She told you that?’ she whispered at last.
‘Yes, she told me. That is what they did to female slaves. To young beautiful female slaves.’ Pat started crying.
Viv stared at her appalled. ‘And you dreamed about her?’
Pat nodded.
‘Oh God, Pat, what’s happening to us?’ Viv’s voice was bleak. With a shiver she wrapped her arms around herself. ‘They are taking us over.’
Pat took a deep breath. ‘Don’t you want to know what happened?’ Her hands shaking, she groped in her bag for cigarettes. ‘Or are you too wrapped up in Carta to care?’
‘She tried to destroy Carta,’ Viv said bitterly. ‘She killed her friend. Her beloved dog. For all we know it was her fault Riach died and remember, Medb cursed her baby.’
‘And she had good cause!’ Pat flipped her lighter. It refused to ignite and she tried again.
‘What cause? What had Carta ever done to her?’ Viv asked indignantly. ‘For goodness’ sake, she had done nothing. And she didn’t know what would happen. She just wanted Medb out of sight. Somewhere safe. Where she wouldn’t hurt anyone any more. She didn’t consider the repercussions.’ She realised what Pat was doing. ‘I’d rather you didn’t smoke,’ she said wearily. She rubbed her face with her hands.
‘Tough.’ The flame caught at last and Pat slammed the lighter down on the table. ‘I think you should bloody well listen. See what you - what she - did!’
‘Don’t touch me!’ Medb’s voice was shrill. ‘I’m the wife of a king!’
‘Yes, darling, so you said!’ The two men had been drinking heavily when they appeared in the doorway of the hold and dragged her out onto the deck. The huge sail creaked over head, bellying before the wind, and showers of icy spray cascaded over the decks, soaking them as they pulled her away from the gangway. Her two companions had been dragged out earlier that morning. She had not seen them since. Terrified, she struggled frantically as they laid hold of her, bleary-eyed, unsteady as the ship rose and fell to the ocean swell. ‘Your friends weren’t so fussy!’ The younger man laughed.
‘They are slaves!’ Medb countered hotly.
‘So are you now, darling, or hadn’t you noticed!’ The stout man bent and flipped the chain fastened round her wrists with a stubby, dirt-engrained finger.
There was a shuddering slam as the ship broached between two waves and the man toppled forward onto her, bearing her beneath him onto the deck and landing squarely on top of her. With a shout of laughter he dragged at her clothes, ripping open the neck of her gown and pulling up her skirt.
Medb screamed. Kicking desperately, she writhed beneath him as the younger man roared approval. ‘Go for it, wild cat! When you’ve castrated him with your kneecaps there’ll be all the more for me!’
He lurched again as the ship slammed another wave, mast creaking, the great brown sail beginning to flap.
The stout man groped for Medb’s wrists, holding her arms above her head. ‘One more kick like that darling and I’ll smash your pretty face in.’
His friend turned and with a groan vomited into the scuppers. Wiping his mouth with his arm he turned back. ‘Don’t touch her face. We want a good price for her, remember.’
‘We’ll get a good price!’ His companion thrust into Medb with brutal force. ‘The more she practises the better she’ll be, won’t you sweetheart. Purchasers don’t like their goods to be too fussy!’
By the time the two men had finished with her Medb lay half-conscious on the slimy boards. She did not cry. Dry-eyed, she lay in the brackish water as it sloshed backwards and forward to the pitching of the ship. The weather was worsening. Rain battered into the sail and streamed down onto her face, washing away the reek of sweat and alcohol and vomit from the men’s slobbering lips, cooling the raw wounds under the iron manacles. Turning on her side with a groan she curled up, shielding her bruised body as best she could. The men had gone. She could hear nothing but the rush of the waves and the strumming of the wind in the rigging. Closing her eyes, she sought deep inside herself for a source of strength. She knew how she had come to this pass. She had recognised one of her original captors. He was a Brigantian warrior who served Cartimandua. As he had laid hold of her and thrust her into the arms of the waiting slave traders he had looked long and hard into her face to make sure she knew by whose orders this was happening to her.
If anything could bring her through this ordeal it was the full force of her hatred for Cartimandua and her desire to survive long enough to have her revenge.
‘My lady?’
A voice dragged her back to consciousness at last. ‘My lady, are you all right?’
Sibael, Medb’s servant and companion, staggered across the deck towards her from the shelter of the cabin doorway. Clinging to anything within reach to keep her balance, she fell on her knees at Medb’s side, her hair dripping with sea water, her clothes soaked, her face wet with tears. Her gown too was torn, her face bruised, a vicious bite mark visible on her breast at the gaping neck of her tunic. ‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Around them the crew of the ship went about their business in the storm as if the women were not there, hauling on the ropes, swinging the great tiller to and fro as the wind caught the ship and it threatened to founder.
Medb dragged herself onto her knees groggily. ‘Where is Anu? Is she all right?’
Sibael nodded. ‘She is in the hold. They’ve sent me to fetch you. The storm is getting worse.’ Her words turned to sobs. ‘We are going to die!’
‘Not if they can get money for us alive!’ Medb’s voice was harsh. She raised her chained hands to her face, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes.
Clinging together, the two women dragged themselves across the deck and half climbed, half fell down the steps which led to the hold where Anu huddled alone in the darkness.
Medb collapsed beside her, shivering violently, relieved to be out of the worst of the wind. ‘Where are those men?’
‘Through there.’ Anu nodded towards the set of doors behind her. ‘In the main cabin, where it is warm and dry.’ She too was crying. ‘They say we will make landfall before dark.’
‘Make landfall where?’ Medb, her teeth chattering, pulled a piece of sacking towards her, trying to cover herself. The cabin was stacked with sacks and barrels and boxes. It smelled sour and wet.
‘Gaul.’ Anu sobbed. ‘They are going to sell us there like so many trade goods!’ She let out a wail of misery. ‘The man who,’ her voice broke again,‘the man who raped me said we would be bought by a rich man. They will clean us up and give us dry clothes so they get a better price for us.’
‘Will they indeed.’ Medb clenched her fists. ‘We will accommodate them as best we can until that happens, then -’ she took a deep breath,‘then believe me, I shall see to it that the person who brought us to this pays dearly!’
There was a long silence after Pat stopped talking.
Viv was staring at her numbly. ‘That’s awful,’ she said at last, her voice husky.
Pat ground out her cigarette in a saucer lying on the coffee table in front of her and reached for the packet again. Her hands were shaking. ‘This has to go into the play.’
Viv shrugged. ‘It can’t.’
‘You are joking! Of course it can. It is vital to the story. Dramatically it’s dynamite.’
‘It’s not history. It’s not relevant.’ Wearily Viv stood up and walking over to the window, pushed it open. ‘Pat, we are writing a drama documentary about Cartimandua. We have to stick to the known facts at least as a basis!’ Turning back into the room she shook her head. ‘I know we need more drama, but this is just not important in the context, wherever it comes from.’
‘Not important!’ Pat echoed. ‘Cartimandua sent her to this fate deliberately!’
‘She deserved it, Pat. Look wha
t she had done. Murder. Vicious, deliberate murder.’
‘You don’t know that!’ Pat shook her head. ‘Why should she have murdered anyone?’
‘God knows! She was a vindictive, jealous woman.’
‘Viv, you are insane! Look at the facts!’ Pat broke off as the phone rang.
Viv picked it up with an angry glance at her.
‘We need to talk.’ It was Hugh. ‘There are things we have to discuss,’ he said without preamble. ‘Are you coming into the office today?’
Viv closed her eyes with an inward groan. ‘That’s not going to be possible. I’m in a meeting at the moment.’ Her mind was still full of images of Medb.
‘A meeting that’s more important than discussing the Cartimandua fibula?’ The voice in her ear was hard.
She went cold. She couldn’t deal with this as well. Not now. Probably not ever. ‘Hugh, we do need to discuss it,’ she said at last. ‘But not today. I will call you, I promise.’
‘I don’t know if that is good enough.’
‘It has to be. Look, Hugh. There is someone here. I can’t talk about it now.’ Putting the receiver down she turned back to Pat. ‘That was the Prof. The last person I wanted to hear from.’ She paused. ‘Pat? Are you all right?’
Pat was sitting, the cigarette between her fingers, staring into space. The anger had gone from her face which was blank. She did not appear to have heard anything Viv said.
‘Pat?’
Going across to her, Viv touched her shoulder. ‘Are you OK? You were miles away.’
For a moment Pat said nothing, then she shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I’m tired.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out the script and her copy of Queen of the North. ‘Where were we?’
Viv frowned. ‘We hadn’t really started,’ she said cautiously. ‘We were just tossing a few ideas around, remember?’