by Nhys Glover
His features were not as strikingly handsome as the three warriors she had met at the Davrydianus Estate, but they were appealing to her, nonetheless. There was sensitivity in his face, even when he was taking charge; a kindness that drew her, where regular features alone wouldn’t have.
What colour were his eyes? Oh, yes, brown – a mellow, earthy brown fringed with dark lashes and slightly droopy lids, as if he was sleepy or relaxed; neither of which was the case at the moment. They were the sort of eyes that saw every detail and assessed everything fairly. When those eyes first looked on her, she had seen the momentary surprise. Then he’d been all business, assessing her words as he would anyone else’s he respected. Those eyes could hold kindness, too, and compassion. Even in the midst of his anguish over his missing son, he’d been concerned about her well-being.
His lips were thin and firm, like many Roman soldiers had, and there were lines at the corners that indicated he was no longer a youth. They weren’t laughter lines. This man didn’t laugh or smile often. He took his life and his responsibilities very seriously. Would there also be sadness in the lines of that mouth when it wasn’t tightened over his fine white teeth in frustration. Why did she feel he was sad? She had no idea. It was just a sense she had of him.
Brennwen liked his hands most of all. They were olive skinned and big palmed, with squared-tipped, longish fingers. Practical, strong hands used for manual labour or swordsmanship, and yet refined enough to manipulate a stylus or politely partake of a fancy meal in noble surroundings. Their backs were covered with fine, dark hairs.
Her own hands looked so small and pale next to his – like a white dove beside an eagle.
No. Like a white raven beside an eagle.
She was no dove. She brought no peace. She was the ill-omened messenger of the Crone. Though her mother thought differently, Brennwen was starting to see the truth. No matter how much she wanted to change what she foresaw in her dreams, had always believed she could change what she saw if given the chance, she now realised the truth. Her fate was to foretell unchangeable, dire events that were to come. If that were not the case, she would have been able to get to Cal before he was stolen away. That she arrived too late, even with the assistance of powerful people, meant the Crone never meant her to change what she saw.
Her only hope now was that, having not seen her son’s death in her dreams, she might still be able to save him. With that one grain of hope, she settled down to wait.
After what felt like an eternity, the patrician and Leonis returned for her. Cal’s father drew something on a wax tablet and handed it to the Dacian.
‘You’ll find a stable with horses at the southern end of the township. Follow the road south until you reach the first tributary. The map will show you where to go from there. My sister is Lara, and her husband, Vali, manages my father’s estate. He’s a giant Norseman. Hard to miss. Tell him our plan and leave him to it. I thank you and your mistress for all your help. I hope to show my gratitude properly when I have my son back safe at my side.’
‘The only reward Livia requires is the knowledge that your child is safe. May Bendis be with you.’ Leonis turned to her. ‘Little Snow Maiden, take care. I leave you in this man’s capable hands, and I hope to see you again soon in happier times.’ He leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.
Brennwen was shocked speechless by this act of affection. The only ones ever to kiss her had been her mother and Braedyn. That this comparative stranger could show her such affection pleased and humbled her.
‘Thank you, Leonis. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. May the Lady guide your path.’ She smiled through the fresh tears that had come to her eyes.
So many tears. She couldn’t remember crying this much since she was a young child. Before she learned how painful life could be and how useless tears were in answer to that pain. Better to grit your teeth and bear it. Much better.
When Leonis strode through the broken doorway, the patrician turned to his assistant. ‘Marcus, any messages for me should be redirected to the governor, who is returning to his villa in town because of illness. I won’t be available for some time, so I’m putting you in charge, in my absence. I know you’ll carry out my tasks admirably in my place.’
Cal’s father turned to her. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. What’s happening? I need to help…’
‘And you will. Come,’ he said as he led her through the broken doorway and then from the building.
‘Can you ride?’ he asked as they hurried through the quiet, sun-soaked streets. Midday was always one of the quietest times in Roman towns, even in climates where the sun wasn’t intense at its zenith.
‘I am Brigantes. Of course I can ride,’ she snapped, her helplessness starting to get the better of her. This man refused to tell her what was going on. He simply led her around like a prized cow.
‘That’s good. After I call in at my villa to let my staff know what has happened to Cal’s nurse and her husband, I’ll get Cook to pack us food for our journey. You’ll need braes rather than a gown, if you’re to sit a Roman saddle for the second part of our journey.’
‘What’s happening? Where am I going? I want to go North to find Cal.’
‘And that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re leading me to where you think my son is. Leonis is taking a message to my family. They’ll follow us and help me take my son back.’
‘Not soldiers?’
‘Soldiers will alert the rebels too soon. No, we’re simply a roman scout and his slave girl, looking for a site to stage gladiatorial games. Vali, Braxus, and Menolus won’t be taken for anything else but gladiators.’
Head spinning, Brennwen tried to take in the new plans. ‘We’re riding North?’
‘We’re going to take a ship as far as Petuaria and then ride to Olicana. You did say that was where you thought he was being taken? The road is well trodden, even though, at this time of year, it will be perilous. My main concern is finding a ship leaving at this time of day. We might have to wait until dawn. In which case, Vali may well have caught up with us.’
‘We can’t wait!’ Brennwen grabbed his arm and felt again the strength beneath the warm, olive skin.
‘Do you think I want to wait?’ His exasperation was apparent. ‘It’s my son we’re trying to rescue, after all. But if we take the roads from here, all it will take is a change in weather and many of them will become impassable. Unlike the more civilized centres of the empire, Britannia’s roads aren’t yet paved outside Londinium.’
‘But they’ve taken my… Cal by road. I know they have.’
‘And if they have, we won’t catch them now. They have a half a day on us. If they get held up by bad road conditions on the journey, all the better for us. We might get there before them. You’ve provided us with an advantage not usually to be found in situations like this. We don’t have to follow behind, not knowing where they’re headed. We know!’
Brennwen tried to calm her mind and think rationally. Everything the patrician said made sense. But she hated ships and needed a horse beneath her to feel as if she was getting somewhere, no matter how illogical that was.
‘But that means they get to keep Cal until then. He’ll be terrified already. The longer he’s with them, the worse it will get. If we followed them, we might catch up and be able to take him back before he reaches Olicana.’
‘I won’t risk Cal’s life trying to take him in such uncertain circumstances.’ He raised his voice slightly in his impatience, and it seemed to bounce off the sun-warmed stones of the buildings around them on the narrow street. ‘Even if Vali and his men got here in time, we don’t know the exact route the abductors have taken, nor how many men they have with them, guarding Cal. The initial group split up. We know that much. But that doesn’t mean another group of renegades didn’t wait nearby, ready to take Cal North. We play to our strengths and the information we have. All of which, I remind you, comes solely
from your dreams. This whole plan sits firmly on the foundation of your prophesies. If you’re wrong… If you’re lying to me…’
‘I’m not. My dreams are always true.’
‘Then we trust them. And I just have to hope Cal’s captors treat him well while they have him. If I let myself think otherwise, I’ll go mad.’ His voice caught on the last words.
Brennwen thought about her dream. If she hadn’t been able to stop the abduction, it was unlikely she’d be able to pluck the child from danger until he was in the Brigantes territory of her dream. No matter how much she hated agreeing with the Roman’s plan, it seemed their only sensible alternative.
They’d reached a small villa on a quiet street and the patrician entered it unannounced. His feet slowed once he was across the threshold and she wandered at the reason for it. They were in a hurry; their steps, so far, had been almost jogging. Now he slowed to a standstill. Why?
She heard them before she saw them – two young children running down the corridor from the back of the villa to the atrium. Their faces were expectant as they saw Annius Bibulus.
‘Master, where’s Mater and Pater? They should be back by now. Where’s Cal?’ The little girl was dressed as a slave and was probably five summers old. Her dark hair flowed loose around her thin shoulders. A small boy, probably much the same age as Cal, stood uncertainly at her side, his chubby hand in hers.
The patrician did the most surprising thing. He knelt in front of the little girl and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Your mother and father were very brave and tried to stop bad men from taking Cal. They’ve been rewarded for their bravery and given entry into the Elysium Fields. Your father told you about the Elysium Fields, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. Only brave people go there. But when will they come back?’ The girl looked confused.
‘They won’t be coming back, little one. But they wanted me to make sure you were looked after. You’ll stay safely here with Cook until I return and then we’ll take you back with us to the estate. You like it there, I know. I’ve seen you playing with the lambs.’
‘I want Mater,’ the little girl cried, pulling away from his gentle hands, her face closed and wary. Her brother began to whimper.
A large-breasted woman appeared in the atrium, her hands covered with flour. ‘Oh, Master, I’m sorry the children disturbed you, but they’ve been worried.’
‘I’ve just told them their parents have gone to the Elysium Fields and that you’ll be taking care of them until I get back. Calidius has been taken by rebels. I must go after him.’
‘Oh, no! Oh, no!’ the big woman cried, overcome and unable to say more as she clutched at her throat. The children became even more distressed.
Brennwen’s heart ached for the children and for the man who was taking valuable time away from his search for his own child to reassure his slaves. It went against everything she knew of Romans up until she’d met Livia. This man was like that Roman matron, compassionate to all, no matter their station in life.
Cook shepherded the children away as she fought to control her grief. For a moment, the patrician looked after them sadly. Then he stood up and turned to her.
‘Cook has her hands full with the children. Thadeus should be nearby. He’s my personal attendant. Normally he would have been with me today, but his wife was unwell…’ His explanation was unnecessary and somewhat vague, as if his mind wasn’t on his words. Brennwen understood what he was feeling. He was overwhelmed by the full implications of the events of the morning because he obviously cared about his slaves and grieved their loss.
A tall guard entered the atrium at a jog, his face stark with anguish. His master saw him and nodded. ‘Thadeus, there you are. You’ve been told, I can see. I need you to go to the docks and find passage for two on the first craft heading North. While you’re gone, have others pack us food for our journey. And I need braes for the girl, and a warm cloak.’ He turned to her as he spoke his next words. ‘That one you wear is threadbare. The North is far colder than these milder climes.’
Yet again, she was surprised by his attention to detail and his consideration. He wanted her warm. With all that was on his mind, he still looked to her comfort. The germ of attraction she reluctantly felt for this man began to grow.
‘Where are we going, Master?’ Thadeus asked.
‘We aren’t. I need you to stay here and supervise the staff while I’m away. This girl and I will be travelling to Brigantes territory.’
‘You need my protection…’
‘I can protect myself. I’m a trained soldier. It may have been some time since I held such a post, but I haven’t forgotten how to defend myself. And the less people I have with me, the more easily I’ll blend in. At least initially.’ He removed the twenty feet of bleached woollen fabric of his toga, as if to indicate his change in status.
The toga, edged in purple, signalled to the world that he was a patrician of the highest class. Removing it voluntarily surprised both Thadeus and herself.
‘But Master, I must object. My job is to –’
‘Do my bidding,’ Cal’s father interrupted arrogantly. ‘You’ve wasted enough time. Every hour that passes takes my son further from me. Go now!’
Thadeus looked as if he’d been punched in the face. He reeled backwards and then righted himself. Then he was gone, the fast fading sound of his sandals on the tiles the only thing left of him.
CHAPTER NINE
Cal awoke to pain and movement. The light hurt his head and the jerking motion made him feel sick. Where was he? This wasn’t home.
Then, as the minutes passed, he took in more of his surroundings. He was on a horse, draped across the lap of a man who smelled of sweat, onions and horse. That stench was enough to make vomit rise to his mouth, and he choked and jerked up to spew away from the fast galloping mount.
The man who held him gripped him tighter and said a bad word Cal had heard some of the slaves on his estate say when they were angry. It wasn’t a Roman word.
The sun was warm on the top of his head. He drank it in as he tried to settle his stomach. Fear started to eat at his belly now, like fighting cats inside a grain bin. His heart thumped against his chest so hard he thought it would break his ribs.
He thought about struggling, as the memories flooded back into his mind. The pools of blood, Bellia’s blank stare, the priest who toppled on top of his nurse… All the flashing images of the chaotic moments at the temple rolled past him madly. He called his father for help. He wanted Pater so much it hurt. But when he’d cried out for him, one of the men who took him had hurt him.
Whimpering, he decided not to struggle. Instead, he pulled back into a little ball against the hard chest of the man and closed his eyes. Not seeing the world moving so fast settled his stomach a little and calmed him slightly.
That Pater would come for him was his one comforting thought. His pater would come for him. In all his life, there had been certain accepted truths on which he could depend. One of those truths was that his father loved him and would never let anyone hurt him. No matter where these bad men took him, his father would find him and bring him safely home.
That thought comforted him further as he let himself relax against the bad man’s chest. He could hear the horse’s heavy breathing. It was tired. How long had the bad man made it run? There was another horse near this one and it was breathing hard, too. It was not good to ride horses this hard. Hermes had taught him that on the estate while he was learning to ride his pony. Never push your mount too hard that it can’t recover quickly. Tired, it could miss its footing and fall. That was dangerous.
What these bad men were doing was dangerous.
He scrunched up his eyes even tighter and prayed to Ceres for help. His mother would help his father find him. She had to!
Gaius stood at the prow of the small ship as it inched its way down the river into open water. He wrapped his plain citizen’s toga more tightly around him to protect him from the chill breeze coming
off the water. His heart lifted to be finally moving rather than marking time, as he seemed to have been doing in the last few hours since Cal disappeared.
Hermes was lucky to find a craft heading for Camulodunum that afternoon. It would make the harbour by dark, the captain had told him with certainty. There he could find accommodation for himself and Brennwen at the governor’s residence.
Lucullus was not there, of course. He would be staying at his Londinium villa suburbia during his sudden illness, but Gaius knew he’d be welcomed by the skeleton staff at the proconsul’s formal residence that overlooked the sea.
He edged further forward, as if to hurry the craft along. That was irrational. Already, the wind was moving them along the coast at top speed. The ship rocked beneath his feet like a bucking horse but he clung to the rail and kept his eyes on the coast. He could feel the pale girl standing close, using his size to block the worst of the cold wind from buffeting her.
The urge to press Brennwen to his side was more than he could control. Gritting his teeth, he slipped his arm around her child-like waist and drew her in close. Even through her cloak he could feel the soft give of her small breasts. The contact was surprisingly comforting, even though his intent had been to comfort her.
Frowning, he let his mind consider her more fully. He still didn’t understand why she was so desperate to find his son. It was one thing for a seer to want her visions believed; it was another to put herself in danger and discomfort to see someone else’s child rescued. Her obsessive need to reach Cal was both reassuring and unsettling. It felt good to have someone else as desperate as he was to get Cal back safe, but it also discomforted him because his logical side questioned her sanity. As well as his own for throwing in his lot with a so-called seer.
And yet there was something about her that made him trust her. It wasn’t her strange white hair that, in this moment, streamed backwards like icy seaweed in the wind. Nor was it her deathly pale skin, which should have been cold to the touch, but actually felt warm beneath the cloak. Oddly, it was her eyes that made him trust her.
