The Warrior’s Princess. Barbara Erskine

looking out into the darkness, listening to the noises of the night. Her window faced away from the noisy street outside. From somewhere she could hear a tinkling of water, but behind it there was still a distant subdued hum of traffic. She smiled to herself. The Eternal City. She remembered how excited they had all been when Kim had announced her engagement to her Roman aristocrat. They had all vowed to keep in touch for ever, vowed with her, to learn Italian. Jess grimaced at the memory. Kim had become fluent over the years, of course she had. Her own and Steph’s attempts at the language had flagged almost at once. Her promises to herself that she would one day read La Commedia Divina in the original had been ignominiously shunted aside, along with her recognition that her mastery of the language would probably be limited to a few useful phrases mostly involving food.

      When she woke again it was late and she lay staring with delight round the large room to which she had been shown the night before. Too tired to take much notice of the room lit only by a shaded bedside light, she had taken in very little of its detail beyond the fact that it was comfortable and had its own en suite bathroom. Now she found she was lying in a baroque four-poster bed, its curtains open, tied back against the posts with brocade swags; at the windows the threadbare damask curtains were only half-drawn and sunlight poured through onto exotic old rugs filling the room with rich warm light. Climbing to her feet she went over to look out and found she was staring down into a courtyard garden somewhere in the quiet inner heart of the palazzo. The tantalising sound of water she had heard in the night, came, she discovered, from an ornate fountain at the centre of an intricate pattern of formal beds and gravelled paths.

      ‘Are you awake?’ Steph appeared in the doorway behind her. She was carrying two cups of coffee.

      Jess turned away from the window and faced her, pushing her hair back from her face with both hands. ‘This is heaven! I hope Kim really doesn’t mind me turning up at such short notice.’ She realised that for the first time in ages she felt completely safe.

      ‘Kim is delighted. She rattles round in this apartment.’ For a second Steph frowned. ‘I think she is genuinely lonely, you know. It was fabulous when Stefano was alive but now I suspect she only has a few real friends here and most of them bugger off in the summer to go somewhere cooler. I met some of them the other night but most of them were about to leave Rome for the holidays.’ Cradling her own cup she sat down on the bed, swinging her legs. Her feet were bare. ‘I am so pleased you decided to come, Jessie. We’re going to have such fun.’

      Jess eyed her sister speculatively knowing it was only a matter of time before the cross questioning started. Ruefully she was remembering her recent enthusiasm for Wales, her pleas to go to Ty Bran, her longing to paint, knowing how illogical her sudden arrival in the middle of the night must seem. One thing was certain. She was not going to tell Steph and Kim the true reason.

      ‘So, what changed your mind? Why did you decide to leave?’ Steph had leaned back on her elbow amongst the pillows as she sipped her coffee, noting how pale and strained her sister looked.

      Jess set her own cup down on a console table by the window. She rubbed her face with her hands. The music from her dream, from the long car journey was still there, at the back of her brain. She was not going to mention Dan, but she could tell them about Eigon. ‘Did you ever hear a child’s voice at Ty Bran, Steph? Eigon’s voice.’

      Steph sat up again. ‘A voice?’

      ‘Eigon. The daughter of Caratacus!’

      Steph looked confused.

      ‘The ghost! The little girl who haunts your studio.’

      ‘Ah.’ Steph stood up. She paced slowly over to the window and stood looking out. ‘Is this why you changed your mind about staying up there alone? You got spooked.’ Her voice was casual but Jess heard the tension there.

      ‘I suppose I was,’ she acknowledged cautiously. Better by far for Steph to think she had been chased out by ghosts than to know the real reason.

      Steph retraced her steps to the bed and climbed onto it once more, sitting cross-legged against the pillows. ‘Ty Bran is haunted. There’s no doubt about it. I’ve often heard things, sensed things. Not really seen anything.’ She picked idly at the silvery embroidery on the pillow case. ‘But it’s never frightened me. If it had, I would have warned you. I don’t mind at all being up there alone. At least –’

      ‘She didn’t frighten me.’ Jess sat down on the bed next to her. ‘Not once I got used to her. But she made me sad. She is so lonely, so needy. Do you know the story? Eigon was captured by the Romans with her father and mother. And brought here. To Rome. They were prisoners in chains. But her baby brother and sister were lost in the woods at Ty Bran.’

      ‘Lost?’

      Jess nodded. ‘They were hiding from the soldiers. They captured Eigon, but they never found the other two. At least, I don’t think they did.’

      ‘And you think she is still looking for them?’ Steph shook her head. ‘God that sounds awful. How do you know all this?’

      ‘Rhodri Price.’ Jess grimaced.

      ‘Rhodri?’ Steph stared at her incredulously.

      Jess slipped off the bed again and went to rummage in her bag. She pulled out a CD.

      ‘Elgar’s Caractacus.’ Steph read the label. ‘That’s mine!’ She looked up.

      ‘You might have warned me about him,’ Jess said. ‘I put my foot in it at once by not having a clue who he was!’

      Steph chuckled. ‘Oh dear. Sorry. That would really have upset him. He’s a prickly so and so – much too big for his boots!’

      ‘Isn’t he just!’ Jess grinned. ‘I remembered you didn’t like him much! I think I can see why.’

      Steph dropped the CD on the bed. ‘I’m surprised he was there. He doesn’t stay at the farm much any more. He’s based in London nowadays and he’s always on tour somewhere or another. So, you’ve come to hear him sing? Megan told me he was due to appear at La Scala. But that’s not in Rome …’

      ‘No, I haven’t come to hear him sing! Come off it. It’s not my kind of music for a start.’ The music which was nevertheless swirling and raging in her head; the music which wouldn’t go away. ‘And I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him think I was even remotely interested in hearing him. My God, he might think I was a fan! No, I’ve come to do some research.’ Suddenly she realised that was at least partly true. She wanted to get as faraway from Dan as possible, yes, but she needed to know what happened to Eigon as well. She wanted to find out about the children. ‘I know what happened to Caratacus when he got to Rome, it’s part of history, but I want to know what happened to her. It was Rhodri who told me who she was. He told me about the battle when Caratacus was defeated. After all, he has sung about it, their farm is part of the battlefield. He knows the story. And he got me to listen to a programme on the radio about it all.’

      She repeated the whole story to Kim and Steph as the three women sat over a late lunch at a trattoria near the palazzo. Kim stared at her. ‘Well, of all the reasons for anyone to come to Rome, that was the last thing that would have occurred to me.’

      Steph grinned. ‘I think it’s wonderful. A quest!’

      ‘But how does the dangerous man fit into all this, I wonder,’ Kim went on thoughtfully. ‘Did you tell her, Steph, about Carmella’s warning?’

      ‘What warning? What dangerous man?’ Jess put down her fork.

      ‘My friend Carmella read the cards for you and she said that you were in danger. Your sister here almost had the police out to you when she couldn’t get you on the phone.’

      ‘Really?’ Jess met Steph’s gaze thoughtfully.

      ‘Really.’

      ‘And now here you are with this strange mission,’ Kim went on, her eyes sparkling suddenly. ‘So, who is Caractacus? I know he was a king. I know that