by V. M. Sang
The soldier nodded and seemed satisfied with the answer. “No wonder you wanted to come and see her then. If you lived with her all that time, I expect she was almost like a mother to you.”
Awena kept a grip on her brother’s hand until the soldiers had searched the wagon thoroughly, looking under the sacks in the back, and poking all around with their swords. Only when the soldier told them they could go, and they had pulled away from the gates, did she let go.
Ailbert let out a breath as they ambled into the countryside.
“We’ve got away,” he said, grinning.
“Well, we’ve got past the worst hurdle,” Huw said bluntly, “but the Romans will start looking outside the city as soon as they realise you must have got out somehow. We must still be very careful.”
10
Outside Londinium, the wagon rolled along through the countryside. Ailbert and Awena sat side by side, next to Huw on the driving seat. They had not been this way before, because the Dominus and Domina had their villa to the west of the city and not to the north.
After a little while, they entered a huge forest. It was comprised of mainly oak trees, and dense undergrowth crept towards the road on which they travelled. It was a paved Roman road. Few weeds grew between the paving stones, and it was clean too. No muddy patches and ridges that travellers often encountered on unpaved roads.
“How far to the village?” Awena asked after a while.
Huw looked at her and smiled. She was a very pretty girl. “Not until sunset.”
They travelled along in silence until Ailbert had a thought.
“I’ve only a little money that I saved,” His brow furrowed. “How can we pay you for all you’ve done for us?”
Huw laughed. “Don’t worry about that.”
“But that’s not right. You rescued us at no little risk to yourself, and the others. You must have spent some money too.”
“We have a fund. Everyone who can afford it in Treafon, that’s the name of our village, gives a little towards the rescue operations. Some people from other villages give money to us too, or other types of help. We don’t like our own people being enslaved by foreigners. Anyway, when you are settled in, there will be work for you to do.”
“Do you fight the Romans?”
“Not directly, no. Their army’s too good for us to meet them on the battlefield. Look at what happened to Boudicca. She won at first, but the Romans eventually defeated her and her daughters were raped. No, we fight them in other, little ways, like rescuing British slaves.”
Ailbert looked crestfallen at that, but fell to thinking: he might not be able to join an army to kill Romans, but maybe he could find other ways.
The wagon trundled through the forest for a few hours. They passed charcoal-burners’ huts with smouldering fires tended by people sitting on one-legged stools. The charcoal-burners had to tend the banked fires at all times, so they simply smouldered and did not burn. Awena asked about the stools.
“They’re so the watcher doesn’t fall asleep,” Huw told her. “If he does, the stool topples and wakes him up.”
Ailbert laughed at the thought. “Clever idea.”
Towards evening, the forest began to thin and soon they saw a large ditch and an earthen wall topped by a wooden palisade.
“Here we are,” Huw announced as they trundled across the wooden bridge and through a gap in the earthworks.
The youngsters looked around the village. They were surprised to see that all the buildings were round. They had low walls made of wattle and daub, with a doorway and a steeply thatched roof that almost touched the ground. They could see no windows, but smoke seeped through the thatch, indicating that fires burned in some of the huts.
A boy ran up and took the oxen’s heads while Huw jumped off the driver’s seat and helped Awena down. Ailbert leaped from the seat and continued his observations of the place while the boy led the oxen away to where he unharnessed them and then began to unload the cart.
Some pigs and a few small cattle stared at the newcomers from pens at the far side of the village, and several dogs barked at the pair as Huw led them to one of the houses.
He called through the door. “Gwen? Here are the latest rescued slaves.”
A tall handsome woman with brown hair that gleamed withreddish glints stepped out of the house. She appeared about forty years old and had a broad smile on her round face. She looked enough like Huw that Ailbert could see they were brother and sister.
“This is my sister, Gwen. She can speak Latin,” Huw told them. “You’re going to stay with her until we decide where you’re to go.”
The youngsters were surprised at this.
Huw continued. “We don’t usually keep runaways here. It’s too dangerous for both them and us. Too close to Londinium. They would easily be found.”
“How long will we stay here, then?” Awena asked, her eyes darting from side to side as she wiped her hands on her tunic..
“Until we find a safe village for you. Far away from Londinium,” Gwen told her.
She took them into her house. It was dark inside, lit by firelight only, and it was comprised of a single room. Benches lined the walls, with a few low tables scattered around.
At the back of the house stood a tall frame that prompted Ailbert to frown. What could that possibly be?
Gwen saw him studying it. “That’s a loom,” she said. “It’s for weaving cloth.” She turned to Awena. “I’ll teach you how to use it. You’ll need to know such things if you’re to live among us. We Celts always weave our own cloth. You’d have learned in your home village if you hadn’t been taken. Where were you from? We can perhaps send you back there.”
“We were taken when we were very small,” Ailbert replied. “We can’t remember where it was or much about it. Truth is, Awena can’t remember anything, and my memories are very dim. I remember it was by a wide river and that’s about all.”
He didn’t like lying to this woman and her brother, but they had been rescued in the belief that they were Britons so he had to say that. He stuck as close to the truth as he could though, but he could not tell her that he vividly remembered the village by the Rhenus and his parents … and the terrible punishment the Romans had inflicted on them.
Gwen made them sit down and busied herself in preparing food. Huw had gone to his hut where his wife and family waited for him. She asked the two about their lives as Roman slaves. What kind of slaves were they?
“We were house slaves,” Ailbert said simply.
“I was a personal slave to the little Domina,” put in Awena. “She treated me well. Almost like a friend.”
“But she wasn’t a friend, Awena,” Ailbert said gently. ”You must remember that. A friend would have put up more argument about you being sent to the brothel.”
“I suppose so. I miss her though.” Awena hung her head.
“You were sent to a brothel? A young girl like you?” Gwen gasped. “How old are you? Thirteen, fourteen?”
“I think I’ve seen thirteen summers,” Awena told her. “Ailbert says I was three or four when we were taken and we were there for nine years.”
“Why did they send you there if they liked you so much?”
“The Dominus liked her a little too well,” Ailbert explained through gritted teeth, “and the Domina found out. It was she who insisted on Awena going. I don’t really think she would have insisted on sending her to the brothel if anyone had objected. She thought they would get more money for her from there, I suspect. After all, she’s very pretty, and the Dominus hadn’t had his way with her yet. I understand virgins are in great demand.” Ailbert’s eyes narrowed as he spoke.
“This made you angry then?” Gwen asked with a sympathetic smile.
Ailbert’s voice rose as he answered. “Angry? Yes! What right has anyone to put a young and innocent girl through that? What right, for that matter, has anyone to take young children from their family and make slaves of them?”
Awena put her h
and on Ailbert’s arm. “Calm down, please. I’m out of there and I'm fine now I’m away from that dreadful place.”
The meal was ready and they sat and ate in relative silence. Afterwards, Gwen told them about herself. She was a widow and had two live children, and several others stillborn or miscarried. Her live children were now dead, as was her husband. He had been killed fighting for Boudicca. She now lived alone and had told her brother she would like to have the two young people to stay with her. They were similar in age to her own children, had they lived.
Ailbert found the atmosphere in the house oppressive. Not all the smoke escaped through the thatch and he began to cough.
Gwen frowned. “Not sick are you? I’ve something that will help a cough if you are.”
“No,” the young man replied. “I’m just not used to the smoke. I expect I’ll get used to it in time. Do you mind if I go outside for a bit?”
When Gwen told him he was free to come and go as he pleased, he rose and, pushing the leather curtain aside, exited the house.
Darkness had fallen while they ate and talked to Gwen. Ailbert could hear the lowing of cattle in the pens to the north of the stockade and grunts of pigs nearby. He wandered around, trying to get his bearings. First, he made his way to the entrance where he and Awena had entered. He then started to walk round the edge of the earthwork and passed pens with sheep before coming to the enclosures of the pigs and cattle.
Ailbert made his way back to Gwen's house and entered once more. It surprised him to find more people there now. Gwen introduced them as Huw’s wife, Dera and her three children, Glenda, Dewi and Gwayne. Huw, himself, had also come.
“They all wanted to meet you both,” she told Ailbert, handing him a horn of ale.
The visitors threw questions galore at the young people. Where had they come from originally? What did they remember of their family? What was it like to be taken away so young? What was it like being a slave? What was Londinium like? Was it busy? How luxurious was life in the city?
Ailbert and Awena answered as best they could, but soon, Awena could not stifle a yawn that threatened. Gwen noticed and ushered the others out. When they had gone, she pointed to the benches around the walls, telling them to use them to sleep on.
As the young people lay on the beds and covered themselves with the blankets and skins, Gwen banked up the fire and lay down herself. Ailbert reclined with his eyes open for a while, thinking about the change in their circumstances before reciting his litany of hate, as he had done every night for nine years.
Then, until he fell asleep, he attempted to remember all he could of his mother, father and little brother, although he realised his little brother was now about ten years old and not so little any more.
The next morning they woke to hear Gwen bustling around the single room. Ailbert stretched and smiled. He was free. No longer a slave, a nobody, someone to be ignored unless he did something wrong or someone needed him for something. He rose and dressed quickly, took the warm bread Gwen handed him, and thanked her.
By this time, Awena started to wake and when they had both eaten, Gwen took them outside.
“I’ll show you round the stockade first,” she said, “then you can do what you wish for the rest of the day.”
Gwen showed them the granaries, round buildings much like the houses, and the blacksmith’s forge, where he was busy at work. A potter worked at his wheel, creating a large pot. There were other tradesman too, making various goods.
She pointed out the pens where the people had brought the animals in for the winter, and she told them how they had slaughtered many of them, keeping only those required for breeding. They did not have enough fodder to keep all of them through the winter and, anyway, they needed the meat for themselves. Some they salted, but salt was a rare commodity, and so they hung most in the rafters of the houses to smoke.
At the entrance to the compound, Gwen indicated the fields; they radiated outwards from the village and were small rectangular areas, separated from each other by stone walls. Here the animals grazed in the summer and the villagers grew crops.
Gwen then excused herself. “I need to do some weaving and prepare a meal for us. Explore as you wish, but don’t go too far away, just in case there are Romans about. I don’t expect the message about two escaped slaves has reached here yet, but you can’t be too careful.”
Awena wanted to talk to some of the other villagers, so they stayed in the village. Ailbert, too, thought it would be a good idea to find out more about how these people lived if they were going to settle among them. After all, their lives would be very different living in a village of Britons from the one they had led as favoured house slaves in Londinium.
He realised they would probably not be living here very long, but wherever they went, it would be similar. He could hardly believe they now had their freedom. Awena could remember nothing of life before slavery, and he could hardly remember being free. They would find it very different.
The Britons were famed for their hunting dogs, and a few trotted around the compound. They barked at the strangers. Awena moved behind Ailbert whenever they saw one. She was afraid of the cattle and pigs too. In her life as a slave to Claudia, the little Domina, she had nothing to do with animals, except for a little cat Claudia had decided to adopt.
Ailbert, on the other hand, liked them. When the Domina did not want him to attend her, and later the Dominus or Marcus, he had spent time in the stables with his friend, Titus. He loved the horses and had sometimes wished Marcus had not decided he would be a good steward one day. Then he could have gone to work in the stables … unless, of course, the Dominus decided to sell him when his usefulness as a pet passed. At that thought, Ailbert’s hands clenched into fists.
The pair stood looking at the pigs in the pen when a little boy of about six approached. He said something to them, but they did not understand him as he spoke in the native language of the Britons. Awena looked at him and shook her head to indicate she did not understand.
A boy of about fifteen came up and said something to the little boy, who shrugged and then ran off. “He not understand how you not know to speak,” said the boy in bad Latin. “I learn little of Latin, but not speak so good.”
Awena smiled at the lad. “You speak well enough for people to understand you. That’s what matters, really, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ailbert agreed. “Speaking is about letting people know your thoughts, and you seem to be able to do that.”
The boy frowned as he tried to think of the words to say. “I say to you, welcome to village.”
“Thank you,” Awena replied with a smile. “You're very kind. What’s your name? I’m Av … er … Awena and this is my brother, Ailbert.”
“I, Madoc,” he told them. “Little boy, my brother. Him Bryan. Him want know who you are. I tell him you from Londinium and come visit aunt.” The speech seemed to exhaust Madoc and he blinked. “I go. I do work now. Father angry if I lazy.”
With that, he ran towards the cattle pens and picked up a bucket.
Awena watched him. “He seems nice,” she said.
Ailbert looked at her through narrowed eyes. “We have to leave here, remember? It’s no good making firm friends. When we settle somewhere, then we can think about that. Until then, we must be polite and friendly, but not get too involved.”
“Addy, I can’t wait to get somewhere that I know I can make friends and live permanently. I thought we would always live with the Domina and Dominus, and I’d be Claudia’s slave for always. Then it all went wrong, and now we’re here, where we don’t even know the language and are going to be moved again.”
Ailbert looked into the distance and his voice sounded far away when he replied. “It all went wrong a long time ago, Avelina.” He unthinkingly used her Germanic name. “It went wrong when the Romans came and crucified our father, took us away from our mother and sold us as slaves.” He turned back to the girl and his eyes blazed. “That’s when it went wrong, Aw
ena. When you were just four years old. Almost a baby still. We don’t even have our names anymore.”
He turned his back on his sister and strode across the compound to where the smith worked at his anvil.
Awena watched him go, but did not follow. She made her way back to Gwen’s home. As she pushed past the skin covering the door, she was grateful for the warmth of the fire.
“Ah, there you are,” Gwen said. “Where’s Ailbert?”
“Don’t know,” Awena replied with a quick shrug. “He went off. He was a bit angry, I think.”
“Not at you, I hope?”
“No.” She smiled. “He’s never angry at me. I think it’s the Romans he’s angry with. Do you know he chants a litany of hate every night, saying all the things the Romans have done to us?”
“Does he? I didn’t hear him last night.”
“No, he does it very quietly. He didn’t used to, but he’s learned not to let people hear him. He’d get into trouble if they did, I suppose.”
“That’s the very least that would happen.” Gwen sat down on one of the large logs by the fire. “Now, Awena, you should learn something of our language so you can speak to other Britons. It may come back to you when you’re learning, or it may not. It’s nine years since you spoke it and you were only very small then. Perhaps all memory has gone.”
When Ailbert came back, he found them sitting by the fire with Gwen pointing out things, saying their name, and Awena repeating them.
“Ailbert!” Awena exclaimed. “I’m starting to learn the language of the Britons. Come and sit down, and learn with me.”
Ailbert’s anger had dissipated after he left her and had gone to watch the smith work. The older man seemed friendly, but as he could not speak Latin, conversation was rather limited.
Soon Ailbert had wandered off, attracted to the animal pens where he could hear the lowing of cattle.
Madoc came up to him. “You like animals?”
“Yes, I do, but I really prefer horses. I liked being with them in the Dominus’s stables. They have a warm, comforting smell that I like, and when they get to know you, they’re very gentle.”
