Arthes was holding back the laugh that wanted to erupt from her at her mother’s last comment, but was able to restrain herself. It was a grave moment and laughter was not fitting for it, though, for her mother, endless chatter certainly was. It was how her mother dealt with sudden stress. “I’ll be fine mother and I’ll be along after daylight.”
“Be sure you are. Don’t forget to…”
“Mother,” Arthes interrupted her. “I won’t forget anything. Go. Everything will be fine.”
She gave her mother a tight squeeze and kissed her cheek.
Her mother started to open her mouth to give one more instruction, but Arthes pulled the door open and started pushing her out of the cottage. “Give Aunt Gwenlyn my best wishes.”
Her mother finally started on her way, holding the light out in front of her so that she could pick her way down the path. Arthes watched until she could no longer see her mother’s dim light reflecting from the tops of the trees and then closed the door.
There was plenty to be done where the morning chores were concerned. Thinking of Owain, lying in peaceful sleep upon the lumpy mat in the goatherd shack, she decided that she would hurry up with the chores and prepare him an extravagant breakfast. She could already see the shocked expression on his face when she awakened him early with the hardy meal.
“I hope he doesn’t really leave,” she whispered to Elsie as she sat down to milk. Her mind raced forward with the breakfast that she had in mind for Owain. The sweet kiss they shared beside the stream on the afternoon before hadn’t left her throughout the evening and night and was stubbornly sticking around with her as she went about the morning chores. She hummed a tune and talked to the animals about her plans for breakfast.
With all of the chores finished and everything necessary to make the breakfast she had planned for Owain gathered together, she set to work cooking and assembling a breakfast that was fit for a king. She placed each of the items in a basket which she covered over with the finest linen she could find in the cottage and prepared to go spring her surprise upon Owain.
She was drifting along in her own little world and humming the tune that had been stuck in her mind for weeks as she pulled the door to the cottage closed behind her, turned around and gasped. She froze in place and willed herself not to faint as she looked up at the Legionnaire that rode into the clearing in front of her. Be calm and act natural. They can suspect nothing.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, addressing the man who was dismounting his horse while she worked at calming herself. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
She noted that other Legionnaires began to appear from around the corners of the cottage, the barn and from the woods. “Find him!” the man with the horse ordered.
“My father is not here,” she volunteered. “And my mother was called away to go tend to my Aunt Gwenlyn in the early hours of the morning.”
One of the Legionnaires moved behind her and pushed open the door. She could hear him searching the house. He was being none to gentle with his search. Others were going through the barn and the henhouse at the same time. The man, who had gotten down from the horse, moved toward her and raised the linen cloth on the basket to look inside.
“Who is this for?” he snapped.
“I am taking it to my Aunt Gwenlyn’s home,” Arthes responded nervously.
“That’s quite a breakfast for an ill aunt,” he frowned. “Sure it’s not for someone else?”
“Someone else? Who else would it be for?”
“Perhaps it is for a certain man that you have hidden away in the woods somewhere.” The man smiled, but it looked a great deal more like a wolf baring its teeth to Arthes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, hoping that she was convincing.
“Nothing in here, sir,” the man who had searched the house announced as he stepped out into the yard behind her.
“Nothing in the barn but a cow and some chickens,” another announced.
“The goatherd shack,” the man snapped. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know…”
“Bring out the cow,” the man ordered.
In a moment’s time, Elsie was being led out of the barn and into the yard. Her large gentle brown eyes were trusting and innocent and she did not fight against the halter that was being used to lead her out into the yard.
“Kill the cow,” the man said through clenched teeth. “And then burn the barn.”
“No, no, please don’t,” Arthes cried out too late as she saw one of the Legionnaires run a blade across Elsie’s trusting throat and the cow collapsed. “No!” she screamed.
Her eyes filled with tears and she fought for control. Moments later, she saw flames leaping up from inside the barn as another of the Legionnaires retreated from inside it with a torch in his hand. Surely Owain had heard her screams and would flee. Then she quickly realized that he wouldn’t flee, he would run to her and he would try to fight them and… she couldn’t finish the thought. She had to lead them away.
“There is a goatherd’s shack out in the woods, but I’m sure it’s empty,” she volunteered. If he had heard her scream, then he would have already leapt from his bed and come charging through the woods and she would lead them away from the open yard. If he had not heard her scream then she would be leading them straight to him.
“Take us there,” the man said. “And maybe we’ll spare the house.”
Chapter Twelve
By the time that dawn replaced the stars for lighting Owain’s path, he was far away from the goatherd’s shack and deep in the thick wood.
Though he kept a wary eye for danger and stopped occasionally to listen to the sounds around him, he couldn’t help that his mind continued to return to Arthes over and over again. He hated knowing that she would go to goatherd’s shack and find that he had already left. He wished that he had been able to leave her a note, something, anything, to let her know that he loved her and would return for her. Such a note would have been dangerous for her and her family if it fell into the wrong hands. She would just have to know and believe, just like he did.
The reason in his head didn’t fill up the ache in his heart, but Owain pushed on anyway, knowing that their future and Silures’ future depended upon him being alive, well and able to keep fighting. With that in mind, he considered his next move.
Eriu had told him to trust his people. Arthes had told him that those same people were becoming more and more united in their resolve to throw off the chains of Rome. After having been betrayed at the fort in Cardiff, Owain had lost his trust in his people and had believed that the rebellion had failed. He’d meant the promises that he’d made to the men in Exmoor Forest, but they had faded as he found himself alone, hiding and running. It was time that he fulfilled those promises. He’d need to draw his people together again. To do that, he would need to stop running and start spreading the word among his people.
As his mind raced forward, searching for the best way to carry out his plan, his stomach grumbled. A moment later, he became aware of what had been the cause of that particular reaction. It was the unmistakable smell of bacon. Rising from where he had stopped to rest, he peered through the woods around him, not able to see the source of that delicious smell, but picking up a stronger scent of it. Like a hound chasing down a hare, he followed his nose.
After some struggling through the thick wood and underbrush, Owain began to make out the gable roof of a cottage in a clearing ahead of him. He moved as quietly as he could toward the dwelling making certain that he might come close enough to observe the place before rushing into a trap of some sort. Trust your people. Eriu’s words sounded in his mind and his stomach responded with a long, low growl.
The clearing was not unlike the one where he had found Arthes and her family’s cottage. There was a cottage, a barn, a henhouse, a garden and a wood shed, which was well stocked. The smoke curling up from the chimney told him that some of the wood was being b
urned in order to cause the smell that had lured him to his perch just beyond the clearing. Owain was considering his approach when a voice spoke from behind him.
“Not much good in a man who hides in the woods and spies on a place,” the rough voice growled.
“I smelled the bacon cooking,” Owain replied. “I mean no one any harm.”
“Then you ought to have come up the path and spoke at the door instead of creeping along in the woods,” the man responded. “You must be a thief or some sort of outlaw.”
“I am an outlaw, of sorts, not among my people, but among the Romans,” Owain responded. Trust your people.
“If you’re an outlaw among the Romans than you needn’t be hiding from me. The wretched dogs!” the man spat.
Owain decided to stand, turn and face the man. When he did, the man gasped and his eyes went wide.
“You’re him,” he whispered. His eyes began to search all around him. “Follow me.”
Owain was always fascinated by the fact that he was instantly recognized among his people. As near as he could tell he appeared no different than any of them, but it seemed that the moment they looked into his eyes, they knew who he was. He followed the man on a roundabout path through the edge of the woods. They came out behind the woodshed and hurried across the clearing and into the house.
“We’ve an important guest for breakfast, Dyna,” the man who had lead him into his home said as he pulled the door closed behind him.
The woman by the stove dropped the spoon that she was holding in her hand and froze. “Is it really him, Morgen?” she whispered. She regained her composure some, though she continued to stare at him. “The old man who visited us last evening said you’d be coming, but we didn’t expect you so soon.”
Eriu. Owain smiled. “I am pleased to be recognized and welcomed.”
“We are honored to have you in our home,” she responded. “Please, sit, you must be half starved.”
“Much more than half,” Owain chuckled.
“Sit. Sit.” Morgen insisted waving toward a chair.
He had barely gotten his feet under their rough wood table before a plate heaped with bread, cheese, eggs and bacon was placed in front of him. A wooden mug full of cream was set next to it.
Two more modestly filled plates were placed on the table near him and Morgen and Dyna joined him at breakfast, watching him with wide eyes as he focused on his meal.
“What news do you have?” Morgen asked after they had finished eating and Dyna had cleared the table.
“I’ve none at all,” Owain replied. “I’ve been hiding since we failed at Cardiff. I know nothing concerning the state of Silures.”
“Nothing at all?” Dyna cut in, turning away from washing the dishes. She glanced toward her husband with a silent order.
Picking up his cue, Morgen rubbed his chin and grunted. “I wasn’t planning on going to town for a few days yet, but I might make a visit today and learn what news I can.” He winked at Dyna.
She nodded her approval. “What a splendid idea? It’s still early enough that you can get there and back before nightfall.”
Catching on to what was going on, Owain spoke up. “There’s no reason for that on my account.”
Morgen leaned in toward him at the table and spoke in a low tone. “Things have been stirred up plenty lately. The Romans have been turning Silures on edge looking for you and anyone who was known to be with you. We can’t have you ignorant of what is going on in your country. The old man told us as much last evening. Besides that, I heard someone speak of a Scot, a rather gruff and unfriendly one, going about and trying to draw folks together again. You might be interested in hearing what he has to say.”
Chapter Thirteen
Though he kept it to himself, Owain knew exactly who the gruff and unfriendly Scot was. Still careful about being betrayed, he had guarded against the smile that had wanted to flood over his face when Morgen mentioned Cairn. From the first moment he’d met Cairn, the man had been a hard charging ally who was ready to cut off the heads of Romans and spit down their opened throats. He was good for Owain, because Owain always felt like he needed to keep better control of his own temper as an example for Cairn.
When Morgen left, Dyan did her best to keep him comfortable.
“There’s half a keg that Morgen sealed to where it doesn’t leak too much out in the woodshed. I can heat some water and you can have a bath, if you like,” she told him.
A bath sounded very nice, especially one with hot water. “If it’s not too much trouble, I would enjoy that,” he replied.
“No trouble at all…” She paused and frowned. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to address you.”
Owain chuckled softly. “Owain is fine, ma’am.”
“I didn’t know. I know you’re the leader of our people and all, but I wasn’t sure of the title.”
“Can I ask how you recognized me?” Even though Eriu had probably given them a description of him, it couldn’t have been so accurate to cause the reaction he’d gotten.
She was puzzled by the question. “You don’t know of it?”
“Know of what, ma’am?”
“Your eyes,” she said.
“I have green eyes the same as most,” he replied.
“It’s not the color of them, it’s the way they glow. It’s like a flame and glistening ray of golden sun all at once.”
He’d seen his reflection many times and never seen anything like what she was describing. Arthes had never mentioned seeing anything like what Dyna was describing either. He wrinkled his brow, trying to understand. “Can you see it now?”
“Heaven’s no,” she said. “Only when we first met. It went away right afterward.”
The mystery was partly solved, though he didn’t understand how it worked. Had the man at the dock in Llanelli seen the same thing? What about the Roman commander who had glared at him from across the water of the channel? But Arthes hadn’t seen it. He was baffled by it. He’d ask Eriu about it the next time he saw him, whenever that was. The man who helped to raise him came and went a lot like a dream.
Settled into the warm water of the bath a while later, Owain began to think about Arthes. His heart ached for her, more so, since he had no idea how Eriu had planned to keep her from being harmed. He hoped that she hadn’t been harmed, especially on his account. He pushed the thought out of his head. Eriu was always right about those sorts of things. If he said that she wouldn’t be harmed, then she wouldn’t be harmed.
“I’ll leave these clothes for you and wash these others,” Dyna announced, giving him a start when she came around the corner of the woodshed and spoke to him.
“That will be fine,” he said, choking on the lump in his throat.
“Gave you a start did I,” she laughed. “I’ll try to announce myself sooner next time. These clothes belong to our Dylan. He was just about your size, so they ought to fit you alright. We lost him several years back. He’d got it in his head that he wanted to go to sea. He hasn’t come back. Morgen still hopes for him, but I know in my heart that he won’t return. I’m sorry.”
There were tears in her eyes as she turned away and hurried to leave the shed.
It would be difficult for a mother to not know what became of her son. He often wondered about his own mother. He’d never known the first one and the only one he had known wasn’t like any other mother. When he’d grown to the age to be put out on his own, Eriu had taken him from her and made him swear that he would never return, not only for his own sake, but for the sake of his mother as well.
“Owain,” Dyna called out before coming around the corner of the shed.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“When you’re finished bathing, I’ve made up Dylan’s bed in the loft with fresh sheets if you’d like to rest.”
The idea of sleeping in a bed brought a smile to his face. “Thank you.”
He’d only planned on a short nap, but it the sun was half behind the western horizon by the t
ime he awakened and climbed down the ladder to the room below. He’d awakened to the smell of fresh bread baking and stew in the large pot on the fire. If only Arthes could be with me now it would be perfect.
“There you are,” Dyna greeted him. “You must have been worn out. When’s the last time you slept like that in a bed?”
“I don’t really remember,” he replied. He really couldn’t remember. Even before the failed attempt to take the fort at Cardiff he had been moving throughout the countryside sleeping on evergreen boughs and occasionally in hay maws, but he hadn’t seen a bed since…
“Morgen is home for supper,” Dyna called out.
Owain could hear the cart on the path outside. Feeling guilty for hanging around inside the house while the older man tended to his animals and whatever he had brought back in the cart, he hurried out to help. He was halfway across the yard toward the barn when he heard a familiar accent.
“Ye ne’er can tell aboot the squirrelly rats, ye know,” Cairn was saying from inside the barn.
By the time Owain made it to the cart, Morgen and Cairn were coming out of the barn.
“Well, I’ll be San Niclaus lef’ boot!” he exclaimed. It was one of the few times he saw a broad smile on the Scot’s face when he wasn’t drunk or talking about killing Romans. “There ye er, lad. Hope ye have yer sword sharp. There’s some talk aboot killin’ Romans an’ it ain’t comin’ from ye this time aroun’.”
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Some folks in the wood beyond,” Morgen started. “A troop of Legionnaires claiming to be looking for you, took a girl, killed a cow, burned a barn to the ground and most of the house was gone before some other folks come along to put out the fire… seems they…”
Morgen and Cairn both saw Owain’s face lose all of its color.
“Ye okay, lad?” Cairn asked.
The Dragon (Sons of Camelot Book 3) Page 5
