by Nhys Glover
‘Let. The. Girl. Go.’ Gaius was speaking in her tongue, his accent thick. But every word was understandable. It just wasn’t heeded.
‘Gonna stick me with that bit a metal, Roman? Think a puny little runt like yer can take me on, e’en wi’ that shiny Roman sword? Think again!’ With the last word, he threw Brennwen away from him and she crashed into the side of her old home, shaking the dwelling to its foundations.
The pain of the impact was forgotten the moment she heard steel strike steel. She glanced up to find her father towering over Gaius, a sword having mysteriously appeared in his hand. Whimpering, she watched as one blow after another rained down on Gaius’ blade, the sound deafening in the silence of the village.
Her father had been a warrior in his youth, and though he’d put on weight and lost his muscle tone, he was still a head taller than Gaius and a formidable opponent. Why, oh why, had she thought it wise to come to this god forsaken village again? Why had she expected to be treated any differently now than she had been back then? Now, because of her foolish optimism, Gaius’ life was in danger.
But though the blows kept falling, Gaius had stopped retreating. He’d begun to counter the blows, sending her father’s sword sliding off his own at odd angles, unbalancing him. Had Gaius only been assessing her father’s technique up to that point? Had he been trying to trick his larger opponent into underestimating him?
Slowly, Brennwen dragged herself to her feet and clung to the side of the hovel. The woman inside came out to stand nearby, fascinated by the display of swordsmanship in front of her.
As Gaius deflected another blow, her father lost his footing. In the next moment, Gaius turned a full circle and came at his opponent’s unguarded side. A deep hacking blow to the midsection had her father toppling to his knees, blood spouting like a red fountain from the wound.
The sword fell from her father’s hand as he reached out to stop his fall. It did no good. He fell face-forward into the dirt, a pool of his blood forming around him.
‘Ye’ve killed ‘im!’ The woman at Brennwen’s side sounded more shocked than horrified.
Panting, Gaius wiped his bloodied sword on his downed opponent’s cloak and sheathed it. Then, assured the man was no longer a threat, he turned to Brennwen and offered her his blood-spattered hand.
‘Come, we must go.’
She took the warm, firm hand gratefully, and let him support her as they hastened toward the horses. People had been drawn from their homes by the clash of metal and a ground-swell of grumblings had begun. These people probably didn’t care at all that her father was dead, but the fact that it was a Roman who’d taken the life of one of their own did matter. Gaius was wise to backtrack quickly, as he was doing.
At the horses, Gaius lifted her up into the saddle and then leapt onto his own mount. In moments, they were galloping away from her old home toward the distant fort of Olicana, leaving only a cloud of dust to mark their passing.
After a mile of hard riding, Gaius reined in and sat listening. Then he jumped from his mount and put his head to the ground.
What was he doing?
When he stood up, he looked pleased and relieved.
‘No one is following us. I didn’t think they would, but you never know.’
‘What were you doing on the ground?’
‘Feeling for the thunder of hoof-beats. The ground will shudder ever so slightly if riders are coming.’
She shook her head in bemusement. Would this Roman never cease to amaze her? Had she not known him to be a powerful leader before this, she would have been shocked by his victory over her monstrous father. That man had never been beaten. But in no more than a few minutes, this Roman had defeated an unassailable opponent.
And now? Now he was telling her that he could tell if they were being followed by the rumbling of the ground? It only served to put Cal’s father on a pedestal even further out of her reach.
‘Are you in pain?’ Gaius asked, looking up into her face searchingly.
She shook her head, unsure if she could find words in that moment.
‘He threw you against the side of that hovel hard. Are you sure?’
Swallowing to overcome the dryness of her mouth, she shook her head again. This mighty warrior, this noble patrician, was concerned for her safety, her well-being. How could that be?
‘All right, then, we’ll ride to Olicana and find lodgings. I want to be in the shadow of a Roman encampment just in case your old neighbours decide to seek revenge.’
‘Th… They won’t.’ Her voice was more throaty than usual, but it amazed her that she could get out anything at all.
‘Why are you so sure?’
‘My father was neither liked nor respected. Many will be glad he’s dead. He killed my mother.’
‘Nevertheless, he was cut down by the enemy. It’s not that long ago that my people brought yours to heel. There’ll be those who won’t like what I did.’
‘I doubt there are enough men left in the village to seek revenge. But if you think it wise to stay in Olicana… My advice has not been much use, so far.’
Gaius reached up and placed his bloody hand on hers where it lay against her thigh. ‘You tried. We both knew the chances of success there were small. It was very brave of you to be willing to go back into a place where such a violent bully still lived. Did he beat you as a child?’
‘Yes. He blamed me for the town’s rejection of us. Every time something bad happened, it was always my fault.’
‘Then I’m glad I was forced to kill him. A man like that doesn’t deserve to live.’
‘You… saved me. I didn’t think you could beat him. No one has ever beaten him. But you did, easily. Thank you!’
Gaius took up her hand and lifted it to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss to its back.
‘You are welcome, Snow Maiden.’
And the look he sent her made the burning heat of a blush flood up her neck to her cheeks. Mortified, she pulled her hand back and looked away.
Gaius was strangely elated. He had taken on a bully a head taller than he was and won. He’d saved his little snow maiden from further abuse at the hands of that man. A man who had killed Brennwen’s mother.
He remembered the sense of dread he’d felt as they reached the outskirts of the village. The place had seemed derelict and lifeless, for all the few children playing listlessly in the streets. He hadn’t wanted to let Brennwen go into that place alone, but her argument that his presence would keep mouths closed that might otherwise open for her made sense.
But he’d stayed close, at the edge of a copse of pines, unwilling to let her out of his sight. He couldn’t hear what was said between the woman in the hovel and Brennwen, but the way the seer’s shoulders had jerked back, as if someone had hit her, must have been the moment she was told her mother was dead at the hands of her father.
Then, while she was still reeling from that information, the big brute had lumbered toward her. His heart had turned over with a sickening jolt as the man confronted the tiny woman who, from a distance, looked too much like the child she must have been when the bully last saw her.
He expected her to run, or at least back away. Instead, she stood her ground until the brute grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back so far Gaius feared he’d break it. Gaius didn’t even remember moving, so focused on Brennwen was he. Someone call out and, with a slight sense of the surreal, realised the words had come from his own mouth.
He remembered hearing his sword sliding from its sheath, and with that sound came a flood of physical memories he hadn’t drawn on for five years. Memories of his training as a warrior. Training he’d never had a chance to use in a real-life situation. But his body and mind remembered the habits instilled over the years. Never enough to prepare him for battle, but enough to keep him fit in case of trouble. But there had never been trouble. His tribune’s position had kept him safely within the walls of forts in territory that were well and truly subdued.
By t
he gods, he’d never even killed a man before!
But when the monster threw his snow maiden aside like a rag doll and came at him with a sword, his mind had gone crystal clear; every lesson he’d been taught came to the fore, as if it happened yesterday.
Assess your opposition, look for weakness, look for habitual behaviour, and block his moves until you’ve taken his measure and are ready to act. If he’s stronger than you, be prepared to act quickly, because his strength will wear you down fast. But a bigger, stronger opponent can be slower to react, slower to recover. Use it. Use everything your senses tell you.
It felt like another man went into that conflict. A Roman soldier, honed to sharpness and precision. And he tested the bully out, saw how he threw all his weight behind each bone-jarring clash with his blade, saw that he was off-kilter already because of alcohol. It took only a handful of blows before he saw his chance. It had been easy: Let the barrier of his sword fall away suddenly, so the man lost his balance. Spin and attack from his unguarded side. Hack deep with muscles tensed, catching his enemy just below the ribcage for maximum impact.
He felt the blade sink into flesh like the knife-edge of a hand through water. Almost no resistance. While he followed through and readied his sword for a possible new assault, he saw the brute topple to his knees, eyes startled, as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. He seemed to feel no pain. Certainly, his eyes showed none before they glazed over and showed nothing at all.
That was when he knew he had made his first kill.
If his mind hadn’t immediately turned to Brennwen and their need to leave that place in a hurry, he would have given in to the urge to vomit. But drawing on the cold control that had won him his fight, he took his victor’s prize and escaped before anyone thought to seek revenge.
He knew that when he stopped, when the danger was over, his body would react to the pressure he’d put on it. Men who had seen battle had told him such things. It wasn’t a sign of weakness. It was just the body’s way of clearing the pent energy from the muscles.
So when he felt the shakes start, he drew the horses to a halt in a sheltered spot, invisible from the road. Climbing down from his saddle like an old, rusty man, he then tied his horse up and helped Brennwen down. Her questioning look went unanswered. He simply went over to a nearby rock and squatted down, with his back against it.
And let his body have its way.
Brennwen came to his side and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, clinging to him as he shook. Her body’s warmth seemed to take a little of the chill from him. When his teeth started to chatter, she moaned out her anxiety.
‘I’m fine…’ he managed to get out through chattering teeth. ‘This isss normal. I…I have never… tttaken a life before. The… The first time isss… alwaysss the worst… ssso they sssay. I just have to breathe th… through it and I’ll beee fine.’
‘It’s all my fault. You wouldn’t have had to do that if I hadn’t suggested going to my village. It was a stupid idea. How could I have forgotten just how much those people hated me? I’m doing more harm than good.’
‘Shhh… Shhh… I’m glad I fought. I’m ggglad I… avenged you and yyyour mother. Nnno one will ever… be subjjjected to his threats and abussse again.’
‘You were amazing. He was so much bigger than you, and yet you fought him like a seasoned warrior. You saved me.’ She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and sobbed.
His chest almost exploded with pride. Everything she said was true. He had fought and won against a more powerful opponent. Maybe he wasn’t quite the failure he’d always seen himself to be, after all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
15 April 86 CE, Olicana, Brigantes Territory
They’d reached Olicana after dark the night before and sought a bed in the small tavern on the edge of town. Luckily, it was a large enough establishment that they could have a small room to themselves, rather than being forced to share space with the drunken denizens on the taproom floor.
Before turning in, they ate a hot stew in the taproom and listened to the conversations around them. Gaius had insisted she keep her cloak over her head. Not only was she one of the few women in the room, but her appearance would attract unwanted attention. After what had happened in her village, she knew not to argue.
Sleep had come quickly and effortlessly. One moment, she was curled up naked at Gaius’ side, the next it was morning. She didn’t even remember dreaming.
Gaius seemed to have slept well, too, for he stretched at her side and smiled languidly at her when she asked about his night. Sleeping together had become as natural as breathing. And from Gaius’ lack of tension, she imagined he felt the same way. It felt good.
After breaking their fast, they went to the market to get a feel for the place and listen in on conversations where they could. Her memories of Olicana were more accurate than of her home. The bustling little settlement was just as she remembered it.
She had spent nearly two years in the town, watching the roman fort being erected above them. Her new master, the blacksmith, hadn’t been a bad sort, for all his rough ways and occasional heavy hand, but she’d been too weighed down by grief and loneliness to appreciate her new circumstances. The loss of her mother had been an ache that never let up.
For a long time, she’d managed to keep her dreams a secret. However, in the spring of her second year there, she’d dreamed of a child missing her step on the slippery rocks that led across the fast-moving river near the township. Brennwen had recognised the girl in her dream immediately. The child was a sweet, gentle creature who had often smiled at her when she accompanied her father to the smithies.
So when she woke from her dream, she knew she couldn’t keep quiet and let the child die. As soon as it was light, she went to the child’s home and pleaded with her mother to keep the girl inside that day. She told her there would be an accident and her child would drown. Horrified, the woman drove her from the door, screaming obscenities.
She heard from the blacksmith that the mother had kept her child at her side all morning, but had been distracted during the midday meal. The girl had strayed away to the river, looking for her friends.
When the wailing began, Brennwen had known what had happened. She’d huddled in the corner of their round house dwelling, awaiting the inevitable. The stark face of the blacksmith told her everything she needed to know. At least he hadn’t beaten her. Instead, he dragged her out of hiding and offered her to a passing tinker who’d been having repairs done to some of his goods.
In a way, the blacksmith had done her a favour, getting her away before the small town got wind of what she’d done. But at the time, she’d only registered the fear and rejection. Yet again, in her short life, her world was torn asunder by her curse.
Pushing down the painful memories, Brennwen began to browse a stall offering cheap jewellery. She had no money, but she didn’t need it to look. Gaius wandered off to examine more masculine items on display at a nearby stall.
The sun was shining down on them, but even so. she kept the hood of her cloak over her head. But when a passing stranger inadvertently knocked against her, the hood fell back. The loud grunt of the stranger drew the attention of two soldiers sauntering amongst the crowd. On duty, she assumed.
One of the soldiers tipped his head to the side, as if examining something odd. He nudged his friend, and the two soldiers came toward her. Terrified to have attracted their attention, she tried to pull her hood back over her hair and slip into the crowd. The men pounced before she could make good her escape.
She bit down on her lip, holding back the whimper of fear that assailed her. Desperately, she scanned the crowd, searching for Gaius. But he’d disappeared.
His loss terrified her.
‘Now what do we have here?’ the first soldier said as he pushed the hood off her head again. ‘A pretty little escaped slave trying to hide in plain sight, I’d say. What say you, Marcus?’
‘No, more likely a pick-pocket at wor
k. I think we need to search her, to see what she’s stolen.’
‘Maybe she’s both. But searching her sounds like a good idea. Can’t have someone like her let loose on our law-abiding town, can we?’
The first soldier, a short, wide man in his middle twenties began to manhandle her, his rough hands kneading her breasts and thrusting between her legs familiarly. Panic robbed Brennwen of all thought. She remembered what it felt like to have hands like these roaming her body, pushing into soft, vulnerable places. She remembered what they could do to her while they laughed and urged each other on.
But the hands were suddenly gone and the offending legionary on the ground in a heap of clanking metal and stiff leather. Even his helmet had fallen from his head, revealing a short, blond cap of hair.
‘Keep your hands to yourself, milites. You overstep your bounds,’ Gauis ordered the fallen soldier, who immediately began scrambling to get to his feet, drawing his sword as he did so.
‘Mind your business, citizen. This girl is a thief. We are simply searching her for stolen goods,’ the man snarled as he regained his sandalled feet. His friend looked less convinced of his friend’s words as he looked from comrade at arms to the unknown roman who wore no toga to designate his status, but spoke with the educated accent of the upper classes.
‘This is my business. She is mine. Go about your business and leave my slave alone.’ Gaius’ voice was arrogant and forceful as he stood at her side without drawing the sword at his hip.
Brennwen couldn’t believe that Gaius was once more being forced to defend her. This time, against his own kind.
‘She’s a thief, and if she’s yours, then so are you,’ the red-faced soldier snarled, waving his sword in front of Gaius’ nose.
‘Helmen, it may not…’ The second soldier, several years younger than the first, was now very uneasy about the turn of events.
‘Shut up. No man knocks me to the ground and gets away with it. I’ll teach this civilian not to take on the might of Rome.’ As he thrust the sword point forward toward Gaius’s neck, Brennwen noticed that her defender’s hand was no longer empty. In the mere seconds that had passed, Gaius had drawn his sword and knocked the offending blade away from him.