“How do you know that?”
“I can feel it inside,” Owain replied.
Morgen said no more as he took the horse from Owain, unsaddled it and tended to it. Owain crawled into the hay maw, stretched out and was about to drift off when a thought hit him.
“Morgen?” he called out to the man before he left the barn. “Is there any way that we can get word of Arthes’ father and mother?”
“I’ve already started to ask about,” Morgen replied. “Dyna was some worried about what might have become of them.”
“You’ve a good woman, Morgen,” Owain muttered. He never heard Morgen’s reply, nor the closing of the barn door behind the older man as he left.
Chapter Seventeen
The nightmares that he’d read about in the histories had come true all around him. Though Marcus had been certain that he had the manpower and a sufficient start to return to Caerleon with the girl, he had severely under estimated the Surilians. They had attacked out of nowhere and had delivered a blow with devastating force before his troops were even aware of their presence.
Throughout his training when he’d been assigned to the Isle of Britain, it had been drilled into his head that the natives tended to attack from ambush and were very efficient at it. The Picts in Caledonia, often called Scots, were particularly fierce when they attacked, but they also made use of the terrain and the mists to coordinate their attacks. He had scoffed at the stories that some soldiers who had fought in the north had spread about the mystical powers of the Scots, but he was scoffing no longer.
Just like the stories of those attacks by the Scots, they had been attacked and hounded all along the road for many miles, even after the girl had been rescued. Though not many had been lost with each attack, throughout the day, the Silurians’ tactic of ambush and retreat had taken its toll and they had continued to expect the final attack that would finish them off. It hadn’t yet come.
He had escaped with his life, but he had lost the girl and had only two men of the thirty that had been accompanying him still mounted, though he was certain that one of those two would topple from his mount and succumb to his wounds before they made Caerleon. Worst of all, though he knew the man was among those who attacked his column, he had never laid eyes upon Owain of Silures. The man was like a phantom who appeared and disappeared at will. And he was surrounded by faithful people who would never betray him.
The setting sun was not a welcome sight to General Marcus or the two men with him. They were still not quite to Caerleon and the possibility of an ambush in the dark was on their minds. With eyes that strained to see into the darkened woods on either side of the road and ears tuned to the slightest sound, they tried to keep up a pace that would bring them to their destination as quickly as possible, but avoid riding into another trap.
He had memorized the history that accompanied the land and the people where he was posted. When Ostirius first invaded the territory in 48 A.D. he encountered little resistance, but as he moved further west fierce resistance from the Ordivician and Silurian tribes, which were united under the command of Caratacus. Three years later, Ostirius was finally able to defeat Caratacus and thought that the tribes would submit, but he was mistaken.
Osterius died in 52 A.D. with Silures still unconquered. Shortly after, the Second Legion was completely wiped out by the Silurian tribe, which made use of ambushes like the one he and his men had endured earlier that day, to pick it apart until it was eliminated. From that point forward in the history of the occupation the events were vague. Though there were no formal agreements that he was aware of, it was said that the Silurians came to terms with the Romans, but remained unconquered. From his own personal experience of the day, Marcus was pretty sure that he knew the answer to that historical vagueness and he feared that he would live out the annihilation of another Legion at the hands of the Silurians.
When he and the two men who rode with him arrived at the fortress at Caerleon, Marcus was filled with a mixture of relief and dread. He was still alive and would live to fight another day, but he still had to face Lucius Civillis and give a report of what had happened to his command. It would be even worse, since Marcus had dispatched a messenger to his commander, telling him that he had captured the girl and was bringing her to hold in ransom in exchange for Owain of Silures. It had been a brilliant plan. It would have drawn the Silurian out of his element and bring him into less friendly territory and right into the jaws of the lion.
The accolades that Marcus had hoped to receive had vanished like a morning mist and he was sure that he would be relieved of his command. As he turned his mount over to a stable boy and started toward up the stone stairway that led up into the structure that housed Lucius Civillis, he swore an oath to himself. “I will hunt down Owain of Silures whether I’m in command or alone,” he muttered.
Fighting back the nausea in his stomach, some of it brought on by having not eaten all day, but most of it from dread of the meeting before him, he stopped in front of Lucius’ steward and waited for the latter to announce him.
“Lucius will see you now,” the steward said with a slight bow.
Inhaling a deep breath and letting it out again, Marcus stood as straight as he was able and pushed his chest forward. He would endure the coming storm with dignity if nothing else.
“Marcus! Marcus! Marcus!” Lucius called out as he entered clapping his hands. “You have done me proud, my beloved general. The plan that your messenger delivered to me was a brilliant stroke. I trust that our little princess is being settled in as we speak?”
It was going to be much harder than he had originally thought. He did not respond until he was much nearer to Lucius. When he did, he went directly to the facts and laid them out as quickly as he could.
“The girl is not with us. My column was attacked along the road by at least 50 Silurians who ambushed us. Though I never laid eyes upon Owain of Silures, he was obviously among them, rescued the girl and escaped. My column was continually attacked from ambush throughout the entire day as we continued along the road to Caerleon. Only I and two others of my command have survived. I fear that one of the other two will no longer be with us by morning.”
Marcus kept his eyes focused straight ahead, avoiding looking at the confused expression of Lucius, who could hardly believe what he was being told. He waited for the coming tirade that was sure to come, but he was thoroughly surprised by his commander’s response.
“So it has begun,” Lucius responded in a low tone. “Since the time that I took over this post, even before, when I held your position, I feared that this day was coming.”
“I don’t understand, sir. I have failed to capture their leader and those under my command were wiped out. Do I not deserve some sort of reprimand or to be relieved of my command?”
“Do you desire either of those things?”
“I do not,” Marcus replied.
“Then I would suggest that you take the lessons that you learned from this day and use them to prepare your troops for the storm that is about to hit. That will be all.”
Turning sharply on his heel, Marcus left Lucius and strode from his commander’s chamber, uncertain of whether he feared the ambush of the Silurians or Lucius’ strange behavior the most.
Chapter Eighteen
“We cannot stay longer,” Owain insisted. “I must take her and keep her safe.”
“But you’ll be safe here. The people will never betray you,” Morgen responded.
“It is not the Silurians that I fear,” Owain answered. “It is another force. A creature of the Dark World will betrays us. He might even betray us now.”
“What o’ yer kingdom an’ yer rebellion?” Cairn asked. The Scot had returned from along the road to Caerleon the morning after he’d rescued Arthes and told of how they had picked apart the force of Legionnaires little by little until only Marcus and two others remained of the 30 soldiers who had begun the escort.
“Without Arthes there will be no kingdom
and no heir to continue it,” Owain responded.
“But ye can no’ tek the lass into the wood an’ be on the run,” Cairn responded. “What life would it be fer her? An’ think o’ the scandal ye’d be bringin’ upon her.”
Owain hung his head and stared at his feet. The two of them were right. He could not keep her safe if he didn’t take her away, but he couldn’t take her away and keep her safe without a scandal. He knew the solution to the problem, but in order to carry it out, they would need time. Time was not a luxury that they had. Nevertheless, his plan had to be tried.
“Has there been news of Arthes’ father and mother?” he asked.
“We expect messengers at any time concerning her father, who was away peddling his wares, but her mother, was found in the home of her sister, Gwenlyn, just like Arthes had said,” Morgen replied.
“I see yer min’ workin’ on a plan, lad, but what do Arthes folks have te do with it?” Cairn asked.
“We’ll call the friar to the four stones, I’ll wed her and we’ll sail across the Celtic Sea to a place where she’ll be safe. From there, I’ll return and we’ll begin again,” Owain replied.
“Ye no can be serious, lad. Ye can’t wed the lass,” Cairn scoffed. “The weddin’ alone would draw out yer betrayer.”
“Why can’t we wed?” Arthes, who had always been quite light on her feet had come around the corner of the woodshed, unnoticed by the three men.
“Ay lass, it’s jus’…” Cairn began.
“We love each other and we wish to be wed,” she beamed. “Though I hope that Owain was planning to discuss the matter with me as well as the two of you.”
“I’d only just thought of it, my love,” Owain responded.
“Only just thought of wedding me?” she teased. “I have thought of it since the day we met and you’ve only thought of it just now.”
“I only just thought of the wedding itself,” Owain proclaimed, rising from the block of wood where he’d been sitting. “Not of the desire to wed you.”
Morgen and Cairn laughed as they watched Owain squirm out of the situation that he suddenly found himself in.
“Perhaps we should talk of this instead of the three of you,” she scolded. “Shall we take a walk, my love? I’ve found a lovely stream a short distance into the wood.”
They dismissed themselves from the pair of grinning faces, followed the path down to the stream and began to stroll slowly through the deep grass alongside it.
“Tell me your plan, Owain,” Arthes said once they were alone.
“I must protect you and keep you safe,” he began. “We cannot stay here. We cannot stay in Silures as long as there is a chance that we will be betrayed. You are in the same grave danger as I. I must keep you from harm…”
“You will wed me to keep me safe?” she asked, frowning.
“I will wed you because I am in love with you,” he responded, seeing the devilish smile break over her lips and leap up into her eyes as he admitted the truth. She had been teasing him. “I will take you away from here to keep you safe.”
Arthes cast herself into his arms. “Owain, I love you too,” she said, turning her lips upward to meet his. “I would certainly wed you, but without my father and mother…”
“I wouldn’t dream of such an important event without them,” he replied. “They’ll be sent for.”
“Then yes, yes, we’ll wed,” she replied, stretching to the tips of her toes to press her mouth into his, not waiting for him to kiss her.
The kiss, just like the one a few days before staggered Owain and he felt the weakness of his knees. She pulled back suddenly. “But won’t a wedding draw the Romans down upon us?”
It was then that Owain realized that what she would want as a wedding and what he could give her were two different things. With a pained expression on his face, he told her the rest. “We’ll not be able to wed in a church and have the festival that goes with it, my love. If we did, we’d surely draw them down upon us. I know you have dreamt of a different sort of wedding, but…”
“But it doesn’t matter,” she whispered with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I will be wed to the man I love.”
“Then we’ll do it as the sun sets on the morrow, my love,” he replied.
“No,” she answered. “We’ll do it as the sun rises.”
“That is quite irregular,” he frowned.
“And quite unexpected as well,” she responded. “Besides, the rising sun has always been my blessing.”
“Then rising sun it will be,” he answered. “We’ll have to hurry and hope that your father will be found in time.”
“He’ll be found,” she beamed.
“There is one more thing,” he added.
“Yes,” she said. “I heard you. We’ll have to run. We’ll have to sail across the Celtic Sea. I heard it all, my love.”
“We will set sail for all to see,” he responded. “But we’ll not leave this land.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You must tell no one,” he whispered. “Everyone must think that we have crossed the sea.”
“Where will we go?”
“We will go to my mother,” he replied.
“But you were forbidden.”
“What mother would turn away her son in need?” he smiled.
Chapter Nineteen
As dawn crept over the clearing of the four stones, deep in the woods, the friar pronounced Owain and Arthes husband and wife before five witnesses. Though Arthes had always wished for a large wedding in a church with all of her friends and family surrounding her, she was satisfied to wed the man who had been in her dreams wherever she was able.
“He is exactly as you described him,” her mother commented as she drew Arthes into her arms. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke. Arthes reached with the linen cloth in her hand and wiped them from her mother’s cheeks before dabbing at her own. They were a mixture of joy and sorrow for both of them.
“Arthes,” her father whispered as he joined the two of them and wrapped his arms around her. “One day you’re a little girl wearing my boots to go fetch the eggs and the next you’re wed.”
“Father, if you’d send your boots with me,” she laughed. “I’d still wear them to fetch the eggs.”
“I might need use of them myself,” he responded, releasing his tight grip on her as he moved on to embrace the man who had just wed his daughter.
The moment that he released her, Arthes looked up and noticed that another guest, an unseen one had been present for their wedding. She saw him looking on and smiling at her, for only a moment, before he disappeared. “Eriu,” she whispered, knowing him instantly in spite of never having seen him before.
“What, my dear?” her mother asked, hearing the word pass over her lips and turning to see where her daughter’s eyes were focused.
“Nothing mother,” she giggled.
“I am not ready to let my little girl go away, especially across the Celtic Sea,” her mother began. The tears started to flow again. “We could surely hide the two of you in the woods. The people would protect you. They would never give you up. I just can’t bear…”
“Mother,” Arthes interrupted, knowing that the endless chatter was just beginning. “What sort of life would we have running and hiding in the woods?” She wished that she could tell her that they weren’t leaving the land and that they would be hidden with Owain’s mother, wherever that was, but Owain had made her promise not to tell anyone about their secret.
“I suppose you’re right, my dear,” she replied.
“We really must be going,” Owain said, interrupting his new bride and her mother.
“Yes,” Arthes responded, fighting for control over the flood of emotions that had been fighting to gain an upper hand on her since they’d kissed by the stream the day before. It had all been sudden, but so sweet as well. “We must go.”
They left the clearing of the four stones on two horses instead of one
and they were escorted by Cairn on a third, though he rode out ahead of them and did not break into their happy moment. By nightfall, they had reached Llanelli. Owain had left her in the home of Morgen’s sister and her husband and slipped out with Cairn, returning after dark. “Our plan is set,” was all that he said upon his return.
In spite of the protest that she and Owain put up, Morgen’s sister and her husband not only gave up their home to them, but also presented them with their own bed. “What newlywed man and wife would sleep apart on the night of their wedding?” they had argued. And so, the two passed their first night together and awaked before dawn to be on their way.
Cairn accompanied them to the docks to send them on their way. His rugged demeanor was quite different on that morning as he embraced the two of them and then stood on the dock beneath the dawn’s light and watched them depart upon the sea.
“The god’s bless ye twain,” he said in a husky tone, turning away to hide tears that had already started to tip over the rims of his eyes.
Arthes gazed back upon the land passing away from her with Owain standing beside her. Though she knew they were not quitting their land entirely, they were quitting the part that she knew best. Straining her eyes, she could make out the forest that had been her home in the hills beyond and she failed to keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
“It is not forever,” Owain smiled, using his thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“I know,” she admitted, smiling up at him. In spite of that promise, she felt something run through her that told her that she would never see her land, her people or her kindred again.
They sailed out of the harbor and around the headland that was between Llanelli and Laugharne. The ship dropped anchor in the Bae Caerfyrddin and waited for only a few moments as another boat came out from Laugharne and met them. Arthes and Owain slipped from the ship and into the boat, which traveled well upstream from Laugharne and dropped them off in a secluded place along the shore just above where the Afon Dewi Fawr poured its waters into the channel that reached far inland above Laugharne.
The Dragon (Sons of Camelot Book 3) Page 7