by K. M. Ashman
He turned back to Togodumnus and with a single stroke, cleaved his head from his shoulders.
A nearby soldier picked up the rolling head and thrust it onto the end of his spear before planting the shaft deep into the ground.
Caratacus turned his horse away from the grisly scene and rode hard back into the forest, welcoming the slap of the thin branches across his face as he tried to wipe out the picture of his brother’s head, impaled atop a staff alongside the golden eagle of the Romans.
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Chapter 24
Prydain reached the scout’s camp and gave the watchword before entering the perimeter. The scouts did not camp within the stockade of the legion, but had formed their own bivouac near the river. It was patrolled by those unlucky to be on guard duty whilst their comrades celebrated the life and death of their leader.
He made his way to his tent and gathered some dried food and extra water skins, placing them into a pair of saddlebags. Taking an extra cape from someone else’s bed space he made his way to the paddock and was relieved to recognise the scout on guard.
‘Hail, Seppus!’ said Prydain brazenly without breaking his stride.
‘Where are you going this time of night?’ asked Seppus, as Prydain started to saddle his own horse.
‘I’m wanted up at the fort,’ Prydain lied. ‘Something about an early morning patrol with my old unit.’
‘Bad luck!’ said Seppus. ‘I hear there’s quite a party going on down there.’
‘Yeah!’ said Prydain, concentrating on his task. ‘Never mind, perhaps next time.’
‘Why two horses?’ continued Seppus, looking at the extra tack.
Prydain thought quickly.
‘They have a lame mount,’ he said. ‘They need to borrow a horse.’
‘Here, let me help you,’ said Seppus and started to saddle the second animal.
‘Thanks!’ said Prydain and mounted his horse before taking the bridle of the second animal and riding casually out of the paddock. The guard watched him disappear into the darkness and returned to his post, completely unaware of the plan Prydain was unfolding.
When Prydain was certain he was out of sight, he turned back toward the burnt out village and had almost crossed the plain without any drama, when a figure approached out of the darkness, obviously the worse for wear with wine.
‘Prydain!’ called Cassus drunkenly, ‘there you are. You should have come with me, these barbarian women are something special.’ He drunk from his flask and grabbed Prydain’s arm. ‘Come on, get off your horse, I’ve got one over here, you can have her, I’m done!’
Prydain dismounted and after tying the horses to a tree, allowed himself to be led into the undergrowth. Within seconds, they came across a naked woman curled up on the bracken, her face swollen and mouth bleeding from the beating she had obviously received.
‘Go on,’ said Cassus. ‘She’s worth it, trust me.’
The woman looked up in despair, fully expecting another beating at the hands of these monsters, before being raped again. Prydain hid his disgust well, not for the girl, but for Cassus.
‘No!’ said, Prydain coldly, ‘I like my women willing.’ He turned to his friend. ‘Let her go Cassus, you’ve had your fun, now take her back to her people. She faces a life of slavery anyway; at least allow her some dignity now.’
Cassus’s shoulders slumped before he finally answered.
‘You just don’t understand do you?’ he snarled. ‘She is my prize, my reward and I will take her back when I am good and ready. In the name of the Gods, Prydain, what is the matter with you?’
‘Believe me,’ said Prydain, ‘the problem is with you, Cassus. Have some compassion and let her go.’
‘No!’
‘Then you leave me no option.’
Before Cassus could react, Prydain punched him as hard as he could on the jaw, knocking him to the floor. Cassus was stunned and tried to get up.
‘Sorry, friend,’ said Prydain, ‘but I have had enough of this madness.’ He drew his Gladius and using the hilt, knocked Cassus out cold. The woman looked up in fear, struggling to understand the implications before Prydain indicated she should get dressed.
‘Come on,’ he said beckoning her, ‘come with me.’
She donned her clothes nervously and followed him toward the nearby remains of her former home. When they reached the hiding place, he pulled back the cape beneath to reveal the sleeping children.
‘I know you don’t understand me,’ he said to the woman, ‘but somehow I need you to help.’ He picked up the little boy and indicated she should do the same with the girl. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we don’t have much time,’ and led her back to where he had left the horses.
Prydain knew that when Cassus recovered, he would raise the alarm and a search would be instigated. The legion wouldn’t stand for deserters and would move heaven and earth to find him.
Within minutes, both Prydain and the barbarian woman were astride a horse with a frightened child wrapped under a cape, and riding as hard as they dared away from the legion. By midmorning, they had forded the river and Prydain led the way into unknown territory, knowing only that he couldn’t go east due to the continued saturation of the coast by Rome and her allies. Nightfall found them encamped deep in the centre of a forest and at last, Prydain felt safe enough to light a fire. He dug out some dried fruit and Buccellatum from his pouches and shared it out among the group.
When they had all eaten, they stared at each other in silence. Prydain was starting to wonder whether he had done the right thing. Here he was, in a strange land, with a woman and two children who no doubt hated him with a vengeance. He was exhausted and knew that he had to rest, but was also aware that the woman was more than capable of killing him while he slept. He could tie her up, but the children would probably release her and there was no way he would tie them up as well. They all sat around the fire and despite his best efforts, the warmth finally got to him and he fell into the dreamless sleep of the exhausted.
----
Prydain struggled into consciousness, aware of strange voices within their small encampment. Realising he could be in danger, his hand reached slowly to his belt to retrieve his Gladius, only to find the weapon missing. He took a deep breath and spun off his stomach to sit up with his back against the tree trunk and stared at the scene before him. The previous night there had been only him, the children and the woman. Now, with the sun only just over the horizon, their number had increased to over twenty people and most worryingly, there were armed men. There was a heated argument going on between them and Prydain suspected his fate would hang on the outcome.
Though there was no sign of the children, Prydain could see the woman near the fire. She looked up and after a moment’s hesitation, retrieved something from the embers, before getting to her feet and walking towards him. She knelt down before him, and with a smile, offered him a leaf package, scorched from the heat of the fire. Prydain opened the parcel, and as it came open, his taste buds flared with the enticing aroma of the roasted fish within. He looked at the woman again, returning her smile before carefully picking the flesh off the bones of the trout, hope growing that they were hardly going to feed him, if they intended to kill him.
He finished the fish, a bit disappointed that there wasn’t any more, but the hot food made him feel much better and he realised things were looking up. The old men seemed to have reached an agreement and they stood silently as he finished his meal. Finally, one of the older men stepped forward.
‘Come!’ he said and beckoned Prydain to follow. Though he didn’t understand the word, the gesture was recognisable and Prydain got to his feet to follow the group, but as he stood, the golden Torc with the bird of prey pendant fell from within his tunic and landed at the feet of the warrior. Both men stared at the ornament for a few seconds before Prydain looked again into the warrior’s face, this time seeing only anger and rage. Before he had even the slightest chance to explain, he was smashed across t
he head from behind and as he sunk into unconsciousness, the last thing he heard was the sound of the woman screaming at his assaulter before the darkness mercifully took him from the pain.
----
Chapter 25
Gwydion and Cody had ridden all day from Caratacus’s camp, following the trail that led back toward Khymru. He had heard tell of the slaughter of Bragus’s tribe several days earlier and knew that somewhere behind him Caratacus’s army was locked in battle with the Roman invasion force. As they rode, a village appeared in the distance and the two men decided to stop and rest. Hopefully, they could trade for some food as there was still two days travel left before they reached the isle of Mona. They rode up to the palisade and approached the closed wooden gate. An old man’s face looked over the wall and Gwydion addressed him in the Catuvellauni tongue.
‘Greetings, old man,’ he said. ‘We would talk with your chief.’
‘He fights alongside Caratacus,’ answered the man. ‘State your business.’
‘We seek shelter for the night and some food if you can spare any.’
‘I know your accent, stranger,’ he said, ‘what tribe are you?’
‘Deceangli!’ answered Gwydion, ‘but we come in peace and share a common enemy.’
‘These are dangerous times, Deceangli,’ said the man. ‘Our gates remain closed to all who are not of our clan, and there is not enough grain for our own children. I fear we cannot help.’
‘Understandable,’ said Gwydion. ‘We will be on our way.’
‘Wait!’ shouted the old man. ‘I see you have two spare horses.’
‘What of it?’ asked Gwydion.
‘We could do with the meat,’ answered the old man, ‘and we have something to trade that you may be interested in.’
‘Which is?’
‘A Roman!’
----
Inside the fort, Prydain turned his head away from the glaring sunlight streaming through the door of the empty stone granary that had been his prison since his capture. The unexpected glare hurt his eyes and after days of darkness, was as painful as the many punches he had received from his captors. Usually they came at night, two or more and often took great pleasure in using their fists or boots to remind him of his position. He squinted at the silhouettes of the two men striding toward him and cried out as they grabbed the bindings on his wrists to lift him to his feet, almost wrenching his arms out of his sockets in the process.
‘Shut up, Roman,’ snarled the man in his strange language. ‘It looks like your Gods smile on you this day.’
They dragged him out of the granary and over to the stockade gate where a group of old men gathered around a horse. The leader looked at Prydain and then to the horse.
‘It is a fair deal,’ he said, ‘let him go.’
‘I say we keep him.’ said another. ‘We will get more for him from Caratacus.’
‘No, we need the meat,’ said the old man indicating the animal. ‘This will feed our children for a week. Open the gates, the deal is done.’
Two men lifted the bar and eased the gate open just enough for a man to step through.
‘Go!’ said the old man and pushed Prydain to the gap. Though confused, Prydain needed no second invitation and stumbled quickly through the gate and away from his captors.
Gwydion watched as the prisoner stumbled toward him. He was unshaven and his clothes were soiled, but apart from that, he wasn’t in too bad a shape. Prydain stopped short of the mounted men, waiting for something to happen.
‘Water,’ gasped Prydain, ‘do you have any water?’ He pointed at the skin hanging from Gwydion’s saddle.
Gwydion unfastened the skin and threw it to Prydain who unfastened the neck and drank the sweet contents as fast as he was able. The warriors waited patiently, staring at the wreck of a man.
‘Food,’ ventured Prydain when he finished, ‘I don’t suppose you have any food.’ He mimed putting food into his mouth.
‘Don’t push your luck, Roman,’ said Gwydion.
Prydain stopped in surprise.
‘You speak Latin,’ he stated.
Gwydion didn’t answer.
‘Are you going to kill me?’ asked Prydain eventually.
‘Why would I kill you, when I have just saved your life?’ answered Gwydion.
‘Saved my life, how?’
‘How long do you think your captors would have kept you alive before getting bored and feeding you to the pigs?’
Prydain shrugged.
‘They have not killed me yet, perhaps I am worth more alive than dead.’
‘I agree there,’ said Gwydion, ‘but it is only the fact that you apparently saved a chieftain’s children that has kept you alive this long. Now they are fed up and want rid of you, so at great personal cost, you now belong to me.’
Prydain sneered.
‘From imprisonment into slavery,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I was better off as I was.’
‘No, not a slave, Roman,’ he said. ‘Something far more valuable than that.’
Gwydion unwrapped Angau from its leather covering and after stringing the bow, removed an arrow from his quiver. He looked around carefully before selecting his target. Without speaking, he caught Prydain’s eye and indicated the nearby tree line. Prydain followed his gaze, not understanding the point of the exercise. Gwydion drew back the bowstring before letting the arrow fly toward the trees. Two seconds later, a wood pigeon fell from a limb, speared by the arrow. Prydain was amazed; he had never seen such a shot.
‘You are a much easier target, Roman,’ he said, ‘and worth more to me alive than dead, but if you try to escape, then you are of no more value than that bird. Do you understand?’
Prydain nodded his head slowly, the warning was clear.
Gwydion nodded toward Cody who threw a noose around Prydain’s head, pulling the slip-knot tight around his neck. Gwydion rode toward the tree line and without dismounting, stooped low from the back of his horse to retrieve the speared pigeon. He extracted the arrow and threw the bird to Prydain.
‘Eat sparingly, Roman.’ he said. ‘We will be moving fast and will have little time to hunt.’
Prydain stuffed the bird under his tunic before Cody tugged at the tether and forced him to trot behind the Celt’s horse as the group sought a campsite for the night.
----
Chapter 26
‘Miss, you must eat something,’ pleaded Willow, stirring the bowl of broth she had prepared. ‘Please, just a little.’
Gwenno stayed where she was, curled into a foetal position on her mattress, scrunching her cape beneath her chin and staring blankly at the wall. She had been there for the last two days, since the guards had caught her in the woods, trying to escape for the third time in a week.
‘I don’t care,’ she said.
‘But you must eat, Miss,’ encouraged Willow, ‘or you will make yourself ill.’
Gwenno turned her head to look at the girl kneeling at her bedside.
‘Make myself ill?’ she asked. ‘We wouldn’t want that would we, Willow? Perhaps I would become so ill I might die, then what would the Druids do? What would they do for entertainment then, Willow?’
‘Perhaps it would be for the best if I was dead,’ she continued. ‘That way there would be no need for you to take part in their sick rituals and I wouldn’t have to relive the terror filled nightmares every night.’
‘Don’t say that, Miss,’ said Willow, ‘don’t wish yourself dead.’
‘Why not?’ asked Gwenno raising her voice. ‘Because that is what I will be soon enough, and do you know what?’ She grabbed the girl’s arm, making her look at her. ‘Do you know what, Willow? I don’t care anymore; I’ve had enough of dying a thousand times before waking up every morning and realising that I have to relive it for another day. Why don’t they get it over with, Willow? Why do they torture me with the waiting?’ Tears flowed from Gwenno’s eyes as she looked pleadingly at the younger girl, as if waiting for an answer.
&nbs
p; Willow looked back at her through tears of her own.
‘Oh, Miss,’ she said, ‘I wish I could help, but since you ran away again, they have posted guards around the whole village. There’s no way through anymore, we would be caught in a few minutes.’
Gwenno placed her head in her hands and sobbed quietly as Willow looked on, distraught at the anguish she was suffering. Willow was confused, as though she fully understood that sacrifice meant the end of this life, everyone knew it was simply a gateway to the next. A place of beauty and plenty, living alongside the Gods where hunger and pain were unheard of, and everyone lived forever. She struggled to understand why Gwenno was so upset, for only the royal and the sacred were even given the chance to undertake the great journey. Had she been lucky enough to be of high birth, she would have welcomed the chance with open arms. Willow gently stroked Gwenno’s hair until the sobs finally fell silent. She sat back, her sleeping mistress’s head lying in her lap and for the next hour she considered her options, until finally, she formed an idea.
----
Gwenno woke into the silence of the hut and looked around the fire lit gloom for Willow. The hut was obviously empty, but she could see the handmaiden had left a small cauldron of the broth in the embers at the side of the fire. She made her way over to the pot and ladled a few spoons of the soup into a wooden bowl, before walking to the door to peer between the slats. Outside, there were three guards around the clearing, each watching the hut to ensure she could not escape. She sipped on the soup as she watched and soon the monotony was broken when she saw Willow approaching, carrying a bundle in her arms. The girl was allowed past and ducked into the hut, slightly surprised to see Gwenno on her feet.
‘Hello, Miss,’ she said, ‘I am so glad you’re feeling better.’ She swerved around Gwenno and made her way across to the corner to place her package on the table, indicating for Gwenno to join her.
‘Come and see,’ she said excitedly, ‘I have a present for you.’