The Great Conspiracy (The Saxon Shore Trilogy Book 2)

Book summary

In The Great Conspiracy, set in the turbulent fourth-century AD, Britannia faces relentless attacks as the Roman Empire crumbles. Leo and Valdor, descendants of a legendary warrior, navigate the chaos, but Valdor’s ambitions lead him into a perilous struggle for power. This historical adventure explores loyalty, betrayal, and survival in a time of looming anarchy.

Excerpt from The Great Conspiracy (The Saxon Shore Trilogy Book 2)

Portus Adurni, AD 328

Valdor’s intention had been for his family to remain united on Vectis, which he considered a healthy place to live. He sorely missed his daughter and her boys, yet they were only across the strait from the isle, a voyage of less than an hour in favourable conditions. He gazed around at the perfectly ordered rows of vines—not a weed in sight—and his smile was self-satisfied. There was always a price to be paid for such commitment and always work to be done on the farm; leaving his livestock and the plants for any long period of time was out of the question, yet he regretted not seeing Primus and Leo and their parents often enough.

The boys had grown into strong youths, and while he had qualms about his daughter becoming a shield maiden, he had no problem with his grandsons going through the same arduous training routine that his wife had imposed on his daughter. Lavinia was just as hard a taskmistress as her mother had been. There was little to choose between the prowess of Primus and Leo. Despite being nineteen months younger than his firstborn, occasionally Leo could prevail in mock combat over his brother. Both were unbeatable by the other youths in the Roman fortress of Portus Adurni. Lavinia had impressed upon them not to let their superiority go to their heads. “Nothing is more precious than comradeship,” she stressed. For this reason, the boys were popular with the others and befriended the bravest among them.

Another reason that Valdor was relatively happy about Lavinia and her sons living in Portus Adurni was that he had overseen the construction of the fortress, and while he knew from his own experience that no stronghold was impregnable, it would take a mighty army to overcome those defences. Also, Lavinia’s choice of husband could not have been better; Centurion Maximus Decimus reminded the Count of himself as a young officer: hard but fair and respected by his men.

Portus Adurni was literally a backwater in Britannia, and the Empire was so vast. The news that filtered through to the people living in the fortress came principally through chatting with seamen, especially the traders who infrequently arrived.

Tempted down to the harbour by the arrival of a merchant ship, Lavinia invented an excuse to chat with the owner of the vessel. A corpulent man, his belly stretching his yellow tunic to the extent that Lavinia feared the stitches would cede, the trader’s face, ruddy under the weathered tan, split into a broad grin. Only in his unsettled dreams in his small cabin did he meet with pretty young women like this one, so he was eager to chat.

“Whence have you sailed, captain?” she asked.

“We have come from the east, from a distant isle named Cypros. We have goods that might interest a fine lady like you: spices, scents and a special drink. It’s made from almonds and orange flower water, you’ll love it!”

“I’ll buy some of your wares, but first, what news do you have? Is Emperor Constantine well?”

“Never better! You will not have heard of the recent great naval battle in the Bosphorus between him and Licinius. It was a great victory for Constantine, who went on to capture Byzantium…” The shrewd piggy eyes of the trader studied her face, “Of course, you have no idea, I’ll wager those names mean nothing to you.”

“My husband speaks of Byzantium, but the others…” her voice trailed off lamely.

“What it all means, my lady, is that Constantine has united the Eastern Empire with the Western—all under his own person!” He lowered his voice and gazed around, reminding Lavinia of the washerwomen at the river when they embarked on scurrilous gossip. “Are you a Christian, my dear?”

“Indeed, I am.”

“Well, so is Constantine, but don’t let him fool you!” He lowered his head so that his double chin reminded her of a drawing of a pelican she had seen in a villa fresco. She stifled a laugh and looked serious, raising an eyebrow, which was all the encouragement he needed.

“Some say that our emperor Constantine was originally a devotee of Apollo as Helios or Sol Invictus and suggest he came to associate him with the God of the Christians. They say he believes that Christianity with its single god can provide the basis for a sole cult that unifies the Empire. He regards the Christian god as a war god, who brought him victory over Maxentius and Licinius. I’m not saying that I believe all these voices, but look at this!” He took a coin out of his purse, and although Lavinia reached out to take it, his podgy hand clenched into a fist around the golden piece.

“Oh-ah, forgive me, it’s very valuable. No offence, but just look.” The sausage fingers unclenched, and Lavinia leant forward to peer at it, “Well, what of it? Isn’t that Constantine’s profile?” she asked.

“Ay, it is, but here’s the point…” Delicate despite their podginess, two fingers turned the coin over. He explained, “See here, the reverse represents the Daphne mythos to indicate the transformation of the old capital, Rome, into the new capital, Constantinople. The deity might be Victoria, not Daphne, who knows? But she is holding a laurel branch, so my guess is that it’s Daphne, and a palm branch, do you see?” His head was almost touching Lavinia’s, and she could smell a syrupy sweet scent of almonds on his breath. “Why do you think the goddess is turning away from the captive at her feet?” he asked confidentially. “Does the palm branch stand for Christianity? I’m a Christian, too, dear lady.”

“I know very little of what goes on in the wide world, but, captain, you hold proof in your hand that cannot be gainsaid.”

He gave her an ingratiating smile, somewhat oily. “I would invite you aboard, but it’s no place for a lady. Wait here, I have a surprise for you.”

He reappeared moments later, carrying a bottle in one hand and a beaker in another. He emanated the smell of almonds as he spoke. “This here, my lady, they call the drink of happiness! It is a syrup made of a barley-almond blend. All you need is to add water, and it’s ready to drink. The Cypros natives call it Orgeat Syrup. I’m fond of it myself. To be honest, I can’t get enough of it. Here, what do you think?” He handed her the beaker, and she sipped tentatively, but soon drained the lot.

“I’m pleasantly surprised,” she admitted, smiling. “I must buy some bottles from you, but oh, I came to the harbour without my wicker basket.”

“Fear not, my lady, I have baskets enough and will carry your purchases up there, myself. Here, will you have another drop while I tell you more about the emperor?” His voice lowered again as he carefully poured another beaker at her nodded assent. “Did you know that Constantine has erected a statue of his mother Helena at the sanctuary of Apollo at Daphne in Syria Palaestina? They say it was founded by Seleucus I many, many years ago. It’s a most important religious site, and it makes me wonder…” his voice became a whisper, and the small eyes shifted around, “whether Constantine is the Christian he pretends to be. I’m of the opinion that he considers himself the new Seleucus or even,” he cleared his throat apologetically, “…the new Jesus Christ, but then, what do I know? Now,” he said hastily, “apart from the drink of happiness, can I interest you in the scent of sandalwood? It’s really special, and the oil comes from India. I was lucky to find it on Cypros. How many bottles of Orgeat Syrup? Six, ten?”

She had never smelt sandalwood but immediately adored the perfume. True to his word, the merchant followed her up the steep trail with a large basket containing ten bottles of the liquor. Soon, he was red-faced and panting heavily. Lavinia told him to sit on a rock, guard the basket, and wait. She’d find one of her sons and send him running to fetch the burden.

As she continued alone, Lavinia reflected on her conversation. It had been refreshing to hear his chatter about distant places, produce, and politics. She hoped that he was wrong about the emperor still clinging to pagan beliefs. It would be a disaster if he suddenly began to persecute Christians as his predecessor had done.

Standing before the gate, trying to catch a gateman’s eye, she chided herself for her foolishness. Diocletian had never been baptised, but Constantine had adopted his mother’s faith. Surely, there was nothing to fear. Inside the compound, she found Primus practising archery. The four arrows he had fired were neatly grouped in the centre of his target. She felt a surge of love and pride, waited for him to shoot another arrow equally effectively, and only then said, “Primus, I need your muscles.” She explained, and he thrust the bow into her hand before setting off at a run. She decided to retrieve the arrows and went back to his mark, thrusting the darts into the sandy soil at her feet. One by one, she aimed at the target and smiled at her accuracy, which was not inferior to her son’s. My mother taught me well, and I have done the same for my boy. Boy? Nay, she sighed heavily, he’s a man and soon he’ll fly the nest to fight somewhere, and I’ll worry about him!

In a remarkably short time, Primus returned with the basket and laughed, “Yon great bladder of lard could barely stand from his perch on that rock. I had to haul him to his feet. But he’s a kindly sort. He told me that the basket is a gift to you and that he could scarce believe that you were old enough to have a son my age.”

“It’s not every day I receive a compliment, Primus. Perhaps you could practise on me, so that you’ll be ready to win the heart of a maid when you find one to your taste.”

Primus did not reply; she saw that he was occupied by staring at the target. He had a fine eye for detail and turned to grin at her, “You fired those arrows! I remember how I clustered mine. But you are a fine archer, mother.” He paused and reflected, grinned, and said, “There you are, see, I do compliment you, and my words are sincere.”

They both laughed, and she took the basket from him, but he gently retrieved it to carry to their quarters. Alone there, his face suddenly became serious. She recognised the expression, and it worried her.

“What is it, Primus?”

“Mother, has father told you why he’s giving me riding lessons?”

“I didn’t know he was!”

“Ay, and Leo, too. It’s because the army will send for me soon. The Scoti are constantly raiding the coast of Cumbria, and the legion is gathering reinforcements. Father says that we’ll go together, but not Leo, just me and him. Leo kicked up a fuss, but father is adamant. He says that Leo is to stay here with you for another two years. Do you know, my brother’s sulking. We haven’t exchanged a word for three days. It’s not my fault, is it?”

“I’ll talk to him…and to your father, too. He has no right not to inform me about decisions that affect our family. Do you feel ready to fight the Scoti, Primus?”

“While they are raiding into Britannia, I do. I’m not sure I’d feel the same about invading into Hibernia. I don’t think it’ll come to that, though.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you trained here for another year?” she said hopefully.

“Nay, what’s to be gained here? Not even the centurions can match me in practice fights, not even father. I’ll be ready as soon as I’ve learnt to wield weapons on horseback better. At the moment, it doesn’t come naturally to me. Father says that it’s the cavalry that must stem the incursions along the Cumbrian coast.”