The hair on the back of his neck prickled in warning. Turning, he had no time to draw his sword before something smashed against his head.
Chapter 11
Galla awakened slowly, his head throbbing. Moaning, he tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy, as though a bronze weight were holding them down.
He tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was still fuzzy. He lay still, letting consciousness slowly return to him. As he lay there, he became aware of whispered voices in the room. They were speaking the language his father and grandfather had taught him as a child.
“Why did you have to bring him here?”
Although the words were whispered and low, Galla could tell that the voice was that of a woman. An angry woman at that.
“What could I do, Mother? I couldn’t leave him there to die!”
The owner of the second voice was obviously young. A boy. If he was the one who had struck the blow, Rome would do well to have such in their legions.
A long silence was followed by a soft sigh. “I suppose not. But Cadvan, only you would have the audacity to try to kill someone and then bring him home for me to take care of.”
Galla opened his eyes. Slowly his vision came into focus. The first thing he noticed was that they were in a cave, but one that was much more homelike than the one where he had left Decimus and Chara. Obviously someone had taken pains to make this a home.
Turning his head in the direction of the voices, he noticed a young boy, about thirteen or fourteen, standing before a woman, his head bent. He was tall, his skin dark, his hair as black as the midnight sky. He was a handsome lad.
The woman was so opposite him in looks that Galla could only stare. She was tall for a woman, but her skin was as creamy as ivory, her hair yellow and as pale as the moonlight. She was neither young nor old. She seemed close to Galla’s age, but her face wore the look of having seen much of life.
Feeling eyes on her, she turned to Galla. Her ice blue eyes were cold, distant. She came across the room and looked down at him lying on the mat.
“So, you’re awake.”
Galla tried to rise but found himself unable. Looking down, he saw he was tied with ropes. He looked to the woman for an explanation. Instead, she turned and went back to her son.
“Did you make sure you left no tracks to follow?”
“I made sure. Not even Cadwaladyr could track me this time.”
The woman smiled at the pride in her son’s voice, her eyes softening. “Go now. Make sure he was alone.” Lifting a quiver of arrows and a bow from beside the entrance to the cave, she handed them to the boy. “Cadvan, deer would be nice for supper.”
The boy’s chest swelled with pride at her confidence in him. Nodding, he turned and left.
The woman returned to Galla, fixing him with a cold gaze. “What is your name, and what tribe are you from?”
Galla was hesitant to answer her, but he knew he couldn’t lie. “My name is Galla. I am from the Trinovantes.”
If anything, her eyes grew colder. Galla almost shivered under their intense look. “Where am I?” he ventured to ask.
The woman studied him for a long time, and Galla took the time to study her in return. She was a beautiful woman. Never had he seen hair such a color. Even Chara’s was a much brighter blond. This woman’s was almost silver.
“I’ll ask the questions,” she informed him, and Galla felt himself bristle at the woman’s arrogance. He might be trussed up like a pheasant, but he knew ways to free himself. He smiled slightly as he considered the look on his captor’s face if he should choose to do so right now, though he needed time to regain his strength.
The woman watched him silently. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his eyes darken, a slow smile spreading across his face. She felt a thrill of fear for the first time in years. He looked so much like. . .
Her mind shied away from such futile thoughts. Reaching down, she gave the ropes a tug to check their security. Satisfied, she leaned back. “Why is a Trinovante traveling alone through Cantiaci land?”
Again Galla hesitated. A voice seemed to whisper in his mind to tell the woman the truth. Still. . .
“I am looking for the Trinovantes. I have just arrived from Rome.”
She jerked back as though he had struck her, her eyes going wide. “You’re a Roman!” She almost hissed the words.
Galla nodded. The motion sent a wrenching pain slicing through his head. Closing his eyes tightly, he fought the bile rising in his throat. He gritted his teeth until the nausea slowly subsided.
When he opened his eyes again, the woman was gone.
❧
Decimus looked up at the sky for what must have been the hundredth time. The storm was moving closer, but Galla had been right. Two days had passed, and the storm was still a good distance away. He turned and went back to where Chara was sitting on the furs.
“Still no sign of Galla?”
Decimus shook his head. “No, but he said three days, so I don’t really expect him back before tomorrow.” He sat down next to her. “How are you feeling?”
She smiled slightly. “My ankle still hurts, but the rest of me seems to be healing. I’m just a little stiff.”
Positioning himself behind her, Decimus began to gently knead her shoulders. Chara dropped her head forward, closing her eyes.
“That feels good,” she murmured.
For a moment, Decimus’s hands stilled, then he started rubbing again. Swallowing hard, he soon realized that this was a big mistake. The very smell of her stirred his senses. Abruptly he stood and walked back to the entrance of the cave.
Chara stared at him, mystified. What had she done now? Every time she thought they were growing closer, Decimus pulled himself away. What was he so afraid of ? She frowned. Perhaps he knew that she loved him and he wanted to make certain she understood that he didn’t feel the same way. Did his heart belong to another? In the beginning she had thought so, but now. . .now she wasn’t so sure.
He had called her “my love” for some time now, ever since they were married, but she knew that had been for the soldiers’ benefit. How did he really feel about her? If only she could really be his love. If only he would look at her with eyes of love when he said it. Lately the words had become just a habit with him.
Getting up, she slowly made her way to his side. Laying her hand on his arm, she felt him tense.
“What is it, Decimus? Did I do something wrong?”
He didn’t look at her for a long time. Finally he sighed. Turning to her, he looked deep into her eyes. That was his first mistake. The second was not looking away when he had the chance. Now it was too late. He was hypnotized by the luminous glow emanating from the depths of her soft brown eyes.
“Chara. . .” Whatever he had been about to say was lost to the moment. Bending forward, he pressed his lips to hers.
Chara reached up, curling her arms about his neck, pressing herself closer. Decimus wrapped his arms about her slender body, pulling her tightly into his embrace. He pulled back for a moment, staring intently into her eyes. The soft light of love answered the question he had been about to ask. Still, he had time to turn back.
A fire began to burn within him, slowly affecting his reason. Seeing his hesitation, Chara pulled his head back down to hers. “Please, Decimus,” she whispered against his lips.
Lifting her into his arms, Decimus made his way back to the furs. He laid her against them, then joined her on their softness. There was no turning back now.
❧
Galla watched the opening to the cave for a long while. Finally the woman returned.
“Is there a reason I’m being held prisoner?” Galla asked.
She ignored him. Going about her business, she fed more wood to the brazier she used for light. Galla watched her as she pulled a basket of woolen yarn over to a loom and began to weave.
“My lady,” he said softly, “could you not tell me what crime I have committed? Could you not a
t least tell me your name?”
He watched her shoulders slump; her fingers stilled their movement, but still she didn’t turn around. After what seemed a long while, her voice came quietly across the room. “My name is Eudemia.”
Galla frowned. Where had he heard that name before? It was an elusive memory, one that hovered on the edge of his consciousness.
“I mean you no harm,” he continued softly.
“Romans mean nothing else,” she spit at him.
Galla tried again. “It is true I am a Roman, but my father was Trinovante, as was my grandfather.”
She turned on her stool. “That endears you to me no more than being a Roman.”
Curious, Galla studied the woman. “Do you not belong to one of the tribes?”
Her lip curled derisively. “I claim no tribe.” She turned back and began weaving again.
Galla glanced around him. It was hard to believe that this was a cave, so homelike had she made it. But why did she live in a cave?
“Do you and your son live alone here?”
“You certainly are a pushy-nosed one.” He could hear the amusement in her voice.
Galla thought about it. Yes, he supposed he was inquisitive, but the woman intrigued him. Why would a beautiful woman live alone with her son in a cave? And why did she say she claimed no tribe? He didn’t miss the fact that she had said she didn’t claim one, not that she didn’t belong to one. Sometimes it helped to surprise an answer from someone, so Galla decided to put his thoughts into a question.
“Why would a beautiful woman choose to live alone in a cave? Have you no family?”
She glared at him angrily. “Don’t call me beautiful.”
Surprised, Galla decided not to answer her. Instead, she got up from the stool and came to him. She knelt down beside him, her look intense.
“What are you doing here, Roman?”
For some reason, Galla felt he could trust her. He paused only a moment before he told her his story. The only part he left out was about Chara and Decimus. Better that she not know of their whereabouts. If anyone was going to die, let it be him.
When he finished, her lips curled derisively. “And you expect me to believe that a Roman has come all the way to Britannia to tell others about a Jewish God.”
“He is not a Jewish God. He is everyone’s God.”
“So you say.” Getting up, she went back to her work, her back once more to him. “I have no time for gods. Nor do I have any desire to worship any.”
Galla lay there a long time, trying to decide what to do next. Eudemia turned on her stool. “What does your God ask in the way of sacrifices?”
Galla’s eyebrows flew up. He took his time before answering, realizing that this was no idle question. “He asks for no sacrifices, only your life.”
Her eyes widened. “You must give up your life? I’m surprised anyone would choose to serve such a God.” She continued to regard him curiously. “How old must you be before you surrender your life?”
Frowning, Galla tried to reason out her thinking. “Any age is permissible. Even the young can believe.”
Her eyes grew cold again. “Young as in my son’s age?”
Galla had no idea what had caused such an abrupt change in the woman’s demeanor. “I know boys his age who choose to serve God. Girls, too.”
“And you? How old have you decided to be before you give your life to this God of yours?” she snarled.
Galla was really confused now. “I have already given my life to my Lord,” he answered softly.
Her eyes went slowly over him, returning to his face. Her eyebrows rose slowly upward. “You seem in perfect health for a dead man.”
Suddenly comprehending the turn of her thoughts, Galla smiled slightly. “When I say ‘give my life to the Lord,’ I mean I will serve Him all the days of my life. I would die for Him if necessary, but He does not require human sacrifices, because His own Son was sacrificed for all.”
Puzzled, she came back and knelt beside him again. “His Son was sacrificed? If He were God, how could He allow this?”
Galla pressed his lips together. How could he make her understand? Deciding that it would be best to start at the beginning, Galla unfolded the Lord’s plan of salvation to her.
When he finished, Eudemia was staring over his head, lost in thought. She could not comprehend such love. Give her son to save another? No, it was beyond her imagination.
Cadvan came through the entrance, a young fallow deer slung over his shoulder. He looked at his mother sitting so close to the man and frowned.
“Is something wrong, Mother?”
She rose gracefully to her feet. “No, son.” Tears formed in her eyes as she watched her boy. Galla’s words were fresh in her mind. Going to her son’s side, she hugged him tightly.
He pulled back slightly, puzzled. “Mother?”
Smiling, she stroked a hand down his cheek. “Sorry. Dress the meat, will you?”
“What about him?” Cadvan shrugged his shoulders in Galla’s direction.
“I don’t know yet. Go dress the meat.”
When the boy left the cave, Eudemia turned to Galla. “You have an unusual God. Maybe you could tell me more about Him sometime.”
“If you would free me, perhaps I could help with your work.”
She glowered at him. “I didn’t say I believed you. No, Roman, I am still unsure what to do about you.”
Cadvan came back into the cave. “There’s a winter storm approaching. I’d say two days away.”
He handed his mother the meat, and she took it to a table and began cutting it into chunks. “Get me some vegetables to go with this.”
Galla watched the two as they prepared their meal and went about preparing for the night. What was to become of him? More than that, what day was this? His thoughts on Chara and Decimus, Galla began to wiggle the ropes. He had to get back.
Eudemia brought him a bowl of stew. Kneeling down beside him, she began to feed it into his mouth a little at a time. Galla chewed slowly, all the while watching the woman. Where had he seen eyes like that before? There was something vaguely familiar about Eudemia. And what of her son? His coloring was more the coloring of the Mediterranean region than of Britannia. What was their story? He was more than a little curious.
“You need to rest tonight. Tomorrow we’ll decide what’s to be done about you.”
Cadvan came and stood beside her. “I’m sorry, Mother. I wasn’t thinking. At first I meant to kill him, but. . .”
Reaching up, Eudemia took his hand in hers, rubbing it against her cheek. “Don’t be sorry, my son. You are not a killer. I am proud of you.”
He frowned at her. “But what if he is from Cadwaladyr?”
Galla glanced from one to the other. “Is Cadwaladyr another tribe?”
Eudemia grinned. “He probably wishes it were so. His own tribe. Yes, I could see Cadwaladyr strutting to such a tune.”
“I know nothing of this Cadwaladyr,” Galla told them. “I am only here to try and find my father’s tribe.”
“Perhaps,” Eudemia agreed. “But for now, let us get some sleep.” She rose and went to snuff out the oil pots. Darkness filled the cave, save for the light from the brazier. The cave was still comfortably warm, and Galla noticed the furs covering the entrance to keep out the cold.
That was a good idea. He hoped Decimus would think to do the same.
❧
Decimus leaned over Chara, stroking the hair from her face with his fingers. She smiled dreamily up at him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her softly.
She answered him just as softly. “How much I love you.”
Frowning, Decimus sat up, turning his back to her. Chara began to run her fingers lightly over the scars on his bare skin, and he shuddered.
“What is wrong, Decimus? Have I displeased you?”
Decimus shoved his hands back forcefully through his unruly gold locks. Had she displeased him? Never! In her innocence, s
he had pleased him more than he could have imagined. She was soft and gentle, loving and kind. Expelling his breath harshly, he threw himself back against the furs. He rubbed his face with his hands.
“What if you get pregnant, Chara?”
She frowned down at him. “You don’t wish to have children?” The thought had never occurred to her, and it hurt her now. She loved children and had hoped for a big family.
Reaching up, he pulled her down onto his chest. His hand slid around her neck, and he began to stroke her silky skin. Chara felt her heart begin to pound.
“My love,” he told her. “It’s not having the children, it’s having the children here.”
Chara suddenly sobered. She had given no thought whatever to their circumstances. She smiled ruefully. She thought mainly with her heart. So sure was she of Decimus’s protection, so secure was she in his ability to care for her, she had given no thought to an uncertain future.
As Decimus continued to stroke his fingers down her back, Chara’s eyes became liquid pools.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Decimus warned her huskily.
She lay on his chest, propping her cheeks on her balled fists. “I love you, Decimus, for now and for always. And I believe God will take care of us.”
“Like Trophimus?”
Chara frowned. “Are you beginning to doubt? Trophimus is in God’s hands. No power on earth can take him away from the love of God. Just as no power on earth can separate us from Him.” She placed her hands on the ground on either side of his head. “Someday, someone may separate us from each other, but they can never separate us from God. Satan is trying to weed you out, beloved. Don’t let him do it.”
Decimus wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling into her serious eyes. “So wise for someone so young. You are beautiful.”
She flushed hotly and would have pulled away, but Decimus held her firmly.
“You are beautiful, inside and out. I thank God for you every day. I love you, Chara. I think I have from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Tears welled in her eyes at the unexpected admission. One spilled over and dripped down her cheek. Decimus watched her, not sure what had made her cry. Suddenly he felt very uncertain.
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