by Scott Hurst
Max considered the offer. He knew this man, trusted him. But even so, to rely on Saxons to fight Saxons was unwise. But he could use thirty good fighters, if it ever came to it. He was still worried about the Dobunni, though their new leader seemed to have welcomed peace for now. There was land on the border between them had been abandoned by refugees – some of whom would never return to claim it. Perhaps Sigwulf could help him there. He nodded, making his decision. ‘Welcome to Catuvellaunia. I will grant you land on our border with the Dobunni. Farm it and guard it for me.’
The Saxon giant smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you, my Lord. We will be as loyal as you are generous. Despite all the warring we’ve done, all we want is peace.’ He looked down at the child on Sabrina’s lap and ruffled his hair. ‘This lad will be Bretwalda too one day. Perhaps when he reigns there will be true peace for the people of this island.’
Max was quiet. In his mind’s eye he saw the tribes of Britain, growing like strong branches from one tree. Each branch bearing fruit uniquely its own, yet all drawing strength from the same source. He would work towards that vision until his dying day. Reaching down he took his son from his mother. ‘Do you know they call him little bear?’ he smiled at the Saxon giant.
Would this child wear the bear pelt, take on that mantle of protection; lead the way forward into a better future? If he chose that path there was much he would teach him, and there would be many lessons of his own to learn. Above all, he’d teach him that he was loved, and he would teach him to show love. He’d teach him to become the man he was meant to be, a man he could be proud of. ‘Let it be as you say, Sigwulf. Let him one day be Bretwalda. And let there be peace.’
But in his heart Max knew his Saxon friends might soon have a chance to prove their loyalty. Much as he longed for peace, there were many others who did not share his vision. He and Salvius and all the others might soon be off to fight again. The Spears of Britannia would be called to face many enemies yet.
He looked across to where the Great Torc of Caratacus hung on its standard. It had brought him victory, just as legend said it would. Could he stay worthy of it, or would it one day yet him bring doom?
For now he was still Arcturus, the bear protector.
There was still more to do.
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