by Nhys Glover
The guards moved forward, swords drawn on Leonis. Terrified, Brennwen buried her head against the chest of the man who still held her up.
‘Stand down!’ Her son’s father ordered with authority.
Immediately, the Praetorians did as they were told. The office was in chaos. There was splintered wood and scattered scrolls everywhere. In the centre of the chaos, Brennwen clung to the Roman, as if to an oak in a storm, and watched as Leonis also stood down, waiting.
‘Send guards to Temple of Ceres, now!’ The nobleman gave the order in a tone that brooked no argument.
Immediately, one of the guards ran out to do the patrician’s bidding. This young man had so much gravity, so much quiet control over everyone around him. And he was decisive, asking no more questions, showing no sign of the confusion he must be feeling. He just took action.
‘Come, we must go, too,’ she said, looking up at his stern face.
‘The Praetorians will find him. Keep him safe.’
‘No, you must come. He needs you. He’s calling for you!’
The last detail came from her dream last night. She’d seen the child wresting with the man who held him, crying out for Pater, blood all over him. Not his blood. She was sure it wasn’t his blood. But the child was terrified and hysterical.
After only a moment’s hesitation, the nobleman drew her toward the broken door with him. Leonis and the one remaining Praetorian fell in behind them.
She couldn’t keep up the pace, so the patrician half carried her along with him, her shoes sliding along the marble floors of the office corridor. People were shouting everywhere. Pandemonium was breaking out at every turn.
And yet, now she had found him, Brennwen was oddly content. This man, this powerful Roman noble would know what to do, would know how to save her son. She had no doubts.
CHAPTER SIX
Gaius held on to the strange white creature in his arms, half dragging her along with him. He had no idea what was going on. He couldn’t even fathom what chaos had broken out so suddenly in his offices. But he’d known, at a soul-deep level, as soon as the white girl asked about snakes, that her warning was real and urgent.
Cal was in danger!
Londinium was a small town, although it was growing with alarming speed. The Temple of Ceres was at its boundary, on the opposite side from the river. He made his way there now, dragging the gasping girl along with him. With numbed interest he noted that the big, golden-haired Dacian was close on his heels, as was the Praetorian who had come to his rescue.
Ahead of them, he could see a small contingent of Praetorians jogging quickly in formation toward the temple. Even though he wanted to be there first, he knew his pace was not sufficient to catch them up and pass them, especially when he was hauling the girl along with him.
Why didn’t he let her go? It was unkind to drag her along as he was doing. If she wanted to reach the temple, she could do so at her own pace. Not at this frantic half-run he’d initiated. He could hear her painful gasps, and when he looked down into her exhausted, colourless face, he saw tears streaming from her silvery eyes.
Riveted by those eyes, he almost missed his step. Fortunately, at the last moment, he pulled away from those mesmerising orbs, focused back on the road ahead, and recovered his stride.
What had Cal said this morning? Look up to see where you’re heading, but then down at every step you took to get there. Something like that. So he needed to keep his head down and watch his step if he was going to get himself and this strange girl to their destination quickly.
He, too, was panting by the time the temple came into sight. The Praetorians were already there, scattering in all directions, yelling orders as they went. Something was not right. If the temple had been as it should, they would have stood waiting for his next order. Instead, they were racing off in search of something. What?
One Praetorian was awaiting him with news.
‘There are bodies in the temple. Two priests, a woman, a guard and one tribesman, all dead. An old priest saw several other tribesmen running toward the forest with a child. He was screaming for his father until they silenced him.’
Gaius let the girl go and she collapsed to the ground at his feet, sobbing and gasping.
‘How did you know? You weren’t here. How did you know he called for me?’
Brennwen looked up at him with tear-filled eyes that gleamed in the sunlight. ‘I saw… it in a… dream. I… saw it all …in a dream,’ she managed to get out.
‘A dream? What nonsense is that? How did you know my son would be taken today? Were you involved in the plan? Did you change your mind and decide to alert me? Tell me!’ he demanded furiously, grabbing her arm to drag her to her feet again.
The Dacian stepped in and put a cautioning hand on the arm that held her. ‘Don’t hurt her. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s telling the truth. She’s a seer and we’ve travelled more than three days to get here in time to tell you what she’s seen. We hoped to get here in time, but that wasn’t to be.’
‘A seer?’ Gaius looked down into the flushed and agonised face of the girl again. Her expression begged him to believe her.
But how could he? The only seers he knew of were in the Temple of Apollo and he had definite reservations about their abilities. From some of the garbled messages he’d heard, they could be taken any way a supplicant wanted.
What this girl was purported to have done was far in excess of that. If the Dacian was to be believed, then this tiny white creature had seen his son’s abduction days ago. Had seen it clearly enough to know that Cal had cried out for him as he was carried away. How was that possible? Even if she was in on the attack, she couldn’t have known Cal would call out for him. Could she? Was it any more than just a lucky guess?
But, staring down at her, he realised he believed her. Believed them both. Bellia and Hermes were dead, along with two priests of the temple. All to take his son. But why? Why?
‘Find my son!’ Gaius barked at the Praetorian who had given him the bad news.
The Dacian took hold of the girl and Gaius reluctantly released her into his care. He could see she was beside herself with pain and anguish. No one could fake such a performance. For whatever reason, this young girl cared desperately about his missing son.
Why?
A Praetorian ran toward him, sword still drawn. When he reached them, he delivered the rest of the bad news. ‘The abductors had horses hidden in the forest behind the temple. Maybe six or eight. They took off to the north. We need cavalry if we’re to follow.’
‘There’s a contingent at the fort. Send for a squad of thirty. Are there horses stabled nearby?’
The Praetorian nodded.
‘Then send your best rider now to follow the tracks. But tell him to stay well back and not to engage. If there are eight of them, no, seven, with the man dead inside, we must avoid engagement until we’re sure we have the men to defeat them. My son is with them. Any hasty action could put him at risk.’
Another Praetorian came from the interior of the temple. ‘One of my men recognises the tribe. Catuvellauni. The men who have taken your son are Catuvellauni.’
‘But we’ve been at peace with them for twenty-five years. What would they hope to gain from abducting my son? I am no one!’ He was furious and exasperated, and he could feel the first wave of hopelessness lapping at his soul. Up until now, he’d acted with determination and strength, like the warrior he had always wanted to be. Now, his true self began to reassert itself.
He glanced at the girl without thinking about it, and saw her shaking her head.
‘What?’ he barked at her desperately.
‘I don’t think so. Further north. They’re taking him further north.’
‘The Catuvellauni are to the north of here. This was their territory and goes for a hundred miles to the north.’
She shook her head again. Her breathing was starting to return to normal, but she still clung to the Dacian, her legs unable to hold her u
p.
An odd sense of possessiveness raced up to overwhelm him. He didn’t want this girl supported by anyone but him. Gaius should be her protector, not this warrior. Who was he? What was he to her?
‘Your name, Dacian? What brings you into the middle of this? You’re far from home.’
The tawny-haired man with the neat beard was almost a head taller than Gaius. At the demand for information he stood straighter, without letting go of the tiny girl in his arms. Gentle. For all his strength, he was gentle with her. Like Vali.
‘I am Leonis, slave to Livia Davrydianus, daughter to the Emperor’s cousin by marriage, Livianna Honararia.’
‘Domitian’s cousin, Titus Flavius Sabinus? I’ve met the man. My father knows him from the senate. What has your mistress to do with my son’s disappearance?’
‘Nothing. This girl,’ Leonis indicated the girl in his arms, ‘was trying to get to your son before he was abducted. My mistress believed in her dreams and decided to help her. From the dreams, my mistress determined that the boy lived here and that, as I was journeying to Londinium anyway, I should accompany the girl.
‘But last night Brennwen’s dreams got worse, and before we were even docked she knew that what she’d seen was already taking place. I brought her to you as quickly as I could. I let no one get in my way.’ The way the arrogant slave cocked his head toward the Praetorian standing at his side reminded Gaius of the chaos the Dacian had brought with him into the government offices.
‘Come, we need to get this girl a drink. If I’m to understand what is going on here, what has happened to my son, she needs to rest and get her strength back.’
He reached for the girl, and the Dacian handed her over without a moment’s hesitation. What made Gaius claim her, he had no idea. But, suddenly, this girl’s welfare was his concern. She was his link to his son. His only link.
There was a tavern on the edge of town he knew well. It was a relatively new establishment that catered for a better class of clientele than the norm. There were private rooms available away from the main taproom, and it was to one of those that he wanted to take this tiny fae creature.
How old was she? No more than a slip of a girl. She shouldn’t have been away from her mother, no less wandering the roads of Britannia.
At a much slower pace, he almost carried her to the tavern with the Dacian and Praetorian following closely behind.
At the door, he turned to the guard. ‘I want to know when the cavalry has arrived and been dispatched, and I require a messenger sent back here regularly to keep me informed of their progress. Where is Lucullus?’
‘At the fort, sir. We were expecting him at midday.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Gaius remembered now. He’d been in such a rush to get all the paperwork done in time for Lucullus’ visit. Now it had slipped his mind. How irrelevant all that seemed.
He jerked a nod and turned away from the emperor’s guard. Still holding the girl up, he marched across the main taproom to the back of the tavern.
Gently, he lowered her onto one of the horsehair divans that were arranged in a square around a central, low-set table. This was a formal Roman dining arrangement suitable for hosting unexpected guests newly arrived in town. He had shared many meals with such dignitaries in the last two years, standing in place of the governor, smiling and negotiating for him.
Now he sat himself down on the girl’s left, for all intents and purposes turning her into the honoured guest. What was he thinking? This child didn’t deserve such honour. She was a Britannic peasant, no more.
And yet, she was the one who had warned him of his son’s disappearance. Because of her, they had a better chance of catching up with the brigands who had stolen his boy than they would have if he’d been notified of the abduction in normal circumstances. How long would it have taken for word to reach him? An hour? Two? Would there have been anyone left alive at the temple with the wherewithal to notify him immediately? Or would they have mourned their dead, cleaned their temple and then thought to contact the loved ones of the supplicants later? He didn’t know. But, at least with the help of the girl, he’d been on the spot only minutes after the abduction had occurred, and his men could act.
Gaius looked over his shoulder to see the Dacian standing at attention at the door, for all the world, like a warrior guard rather than the slave he now was. Lionheart, Livianna Honararia had named him Lionheart. What a strange name choice. But then, hadn’t he heard something about a condemned warrior defeating a lion in the Flavian Amphitheatre in front of Titus himself?
‘Dacian, how came you by your name?’
‘I killed a lion and Titus gave me my life.’
Ah, so he was the man in that story. Somehow, it was fitting that such a hero had brought this girl to him to save his son. He turned to the girl and, as a slave entered the room bearing goblets of refreshing watered wine, he indicated that she be served first.
The pale child drank down the contents of the goblet in one thirsty series of swallows. Gaius then indicated the warrior and the slave served him next. Finally, Gaius took the second last goblet and sipped at the liquid.
‘Here, have another. You are still thirsty from your exertions,’ he told the girl, directing the slave with his tray back in her direction. ‘You may be a bit young for fermented wine, but it will steady you.’
‘I am no child,’ the girl said, lifting her chin.
‘She is eighteen summers old. An ancient,’ Leonis added, as if needling her this way was common practise. The glare she sent his way reinforced that the teasing was familiar and unwanted.
What was this young woman to the Dacian? Was he simply her companion on this journey or her lover? There was a bond between them, an ease of relating, but he wasn’t sure of its nature.
‘Are you revived?’ Gaius asked after she sipped her way through half of the second goblet and seemed to finally relax.
He didn’t want to think of the handsome warrior as this girl’s lover. He needed to keep his mind on what was important.
Cal.
‘I am, sir.’
‘Then tell me fully how you came to know of my son’s abduction. Leave nothing out.’
For a moment, the girl sat quietly, as if trying to formulate her thoughts into words. Then she started to speak in that soft, whispery voice that sent goosebumps up his spine. Hers was an educated accent, although her grasp of the Roman tongue was limited. Luckily, he had learned the major language of the Celts and was able to interpret the words she couldn’t translate as she went on.
When she finished her tale he sat silently considering it for a moment, caught between disbelief and the need to believe, for Cal’s sake.
In the end he opted for belief and demanded more information. ‘Tell me every detail of this dream you say you have had for years.’
‘For years they were always the same, but in the last week I have been getting more and more details. Last night was the clearest and most detailed of all. I saw the boy, covered in blood, and snakes rearing up to protect him. But they could not save him. One of my people grabbed the boy up and I heard the child call out for his Pater. I could not get to him in the dream, though I tried.
‘They carry him away to the North. I see the Cefn, the ridge above my home, and the fort the Romans were building just before I was sold when I was eleven summers old.’
‘You were sold into slavery at eleven?’
‘No, at eight, nearly nine. But for two years I was owned by the blacksmith in the town further up the wharfe river, the winding river, from us. It was there the Romans started to build their fort and named it…’ She paused, trying to remember. It seemed so long ago. ‘Olicana, that was what they called it. Olicana.’
‘So you see my son near this ridge and fort. Is he locked away, is he hurt?’
‘No. But I always see a fire raging in a circle around him. I don’t know what it means. He’s standing, surrounded by fire, and he doesn’t know how to escape. Braedyn believed the fir
e was symbolic rather than literal, as I imagine the snakes were. But we never fully unearthed its meaning. Certainly, my people, the Brigantes are Brigid’s tribe, the Goddess of Fire. Maybe it is just another sign that he will be taken to my homeland.’ She paused for a moment before refocusing on the rest of the dream.
‘I saw him surrounded by fire and Romans were fighting Celts in a terrible battle that left many, many men dead.’
‘The Catuvellauni seek to start a war and are using my son to do it. But how, why? I am only an advisor to the governor, I’m not an important man. My son has status, but he’s not important enough to start a war over.’ His exasperation was intense.
The girl shook her head as if she didn’t know. Then she looked him in the eye, those unsettling silvery orbs now almost as dark as rainclouds in the shadowed room.
‘I don’t think the men who stole your son are Catuvellauni. Even when I saw them in my dream, it didn’t feel right. The feel of them was more familiar to me than that, and the place I saw my son being kept is in Brigantes territory.’
‘My son?’ Of all the words the woman spoke, those were the ones that struck home.
‘Oh, no. I misspoke. I am not good with your tongue. I meant your son.’ But even though her excuse was valid, he didn’t believe she had misspoken. But why would she call Cal her son?
It didn’t matter. What mattered here were the elements of her dream. Somehow he must make sense of them so, in case the cavalry didn’t catch up with the abductors, he would be able to find Cal.
CHAPTER SEVEN
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. The Dacian opened it and ushered in a Praetorian, his armour clanking and shining dully in the shadowed space.
‘What news?’
‘A message, sir.’
Gaius held out his hand and the missive was passed to him. Opening it quickly, he scanned the words written there.
‘Who delivered this?’ His hand was shaking.