Wolf Blood by N. M. Browne Page A

One of them, with split skin above a broken nose, caresses my face with hard, callused fingers. If I had a sword, my face would be the last thing he ever touched.
    ‘Steady, Trista, smile, love, you can be shy, but try not to look murderous,’ Cassie says in my own language. I bare my teeth and hope it looks enough like a smile to pass.
    The men do not linger. Cassie says something to them and they grin. She winks and gestures so that the bangles on her arms jingle and rattle and they leave laughing raucously.
    ‘Marcellus took quite a fancy to you,’ she says and I recoil.
    ‘I can’t stay around here, Cassie. I can’t pretend to be . . . this.’
    She sighs. ‘It isn’t all it seems, Trista. I’ll find you something to eat and then I’ll explain.’
    While she is gone, I find my weapons, which she has hidden under a pile of skins under the couch – the only piece of furniture in the room. I arrange everything on my shield so that I can leave quickly if I have to. I want to strap my longsword to me but I can see that it would detract from my disguise. Where is Morcant? What will happen to him when he transforms back? I didn’t think to pick up his weapons and clothes: there was no time.
    Gwyn would die of shame if he could see Cassie now. He never had much patience with her; he didn’t like women much, not even me.
    Cassie returns with food and I try to eat decorously, but I am too hungry. Cassie has nothing and I wonder if it is her own food that I am taking, but she is as plump as a pigeon and I can feel all the bones of my ribs. She speaks softly: ‘We had no one to defend us with all the warriors gone. The Parisi came and took whatever they wanted and we all ran to seek protection where we could get it. My babies did not survive that winter. I was looking to find someone who would fight the Parisi and avenge you all – instead I found Caratacus.’
    It’s a name I’ve heard before. I wipe grease from my face with the back of my hand. ‘Who’s he?’
    ‘He’s a tribesman from the south. He’s been fighting the invaders his whole life and he’s still fighting them over in the west. I send him information when I can . . .’
    ‘What? You’re a spy?’
    ‘Yes. You need not look so shocked. You don’t have to wear a sword and look like a man to be useful, you know.’ I am about to laugh until I realise that she is serious. Cassie – a spy? ‘Where are you headed – once you get away from here?’ she asks.
    I pause between mouthfuls. ‘I’m going to Brigantia, to Cartimandua’s court. I thought I would offer her my sword. Da always claimed we were kin.’
    She makes a noise I’ve never heard from her before, something between a snort and a laugh. ‘If you are on the run from Rome, I wouldn’t risk a visit there.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    Cassie looks bleak. ‘It’s not clear that she puts loyalty to her people above her own power. She rules with the consent of Rome and that makes her eager to satisfy her foreign allies. If she found out you were on the run from Rome, I’m not sure she would admit your kinship; it is distant enough.’
    I don’t know whether Cassie is telling me the truth or if she merely wants to use me for her own ends.
    She continues, ‘Give your sword to Caratacus, Trista, and fight for all the tribes against Rome. And if you will not give him your sword at least take a message to him for me.’ I’m too surprised to speak at all for a moment. I don’t want to go chasing round the country for some upstart Chief I’ve never heard of. Why would she ask it of me?
    ‘I am sorry for all your losses, Cassie, and I’m truly grateful for the help you’ve given me, but the Romans are no more my enemies than the Parisi. It wasn’t Romans who killed my family and Gwyn. It wasn’t Romans who enslaved me . . .’ I sound more bitter than I’d intended.
    Cassie hands me a red pottery beaker of sweet water and nods her understanding.
    ‘You’re young yet –