Vengeance of a Slave

by V. M. Sang

  “Perhaps you work with animals here. See, here is hunting dog. British hunting dogs very … er … very good known.” Madoc searched for the right way of putting it. “I show you to dog. She then know you not enemy.” He called the dog over and ‘introduced’ her to Ailbert.

  Ailbert held out his hand and the dog sniffed it. , He gently stroked her head. She seemed to like it and he smiled at Madoc. “She’s a nice dog,” he told the younger boy.

  “She have pups soon. We sell pups to Romans, who take them across sea. I go now. Work to do. Must feed sheep.” With that, Madoc started to leave. Then he turned and said, “Girl with you. Awena. She very pretty. She sister? She look like you.”

  Ailbert frowned. “Yes, she’s my sister,” hereplied and thought, “but you keep your hands off her. She’s only thirteen.”

  Ailbert returned to the house and sat next to his sister.

  “Awena,” said Gwen, “Tell Ailbert what you’ve learned.”

  She pointed at some things in the house that Gwen had provided the Celtic name of, with Gwen occasionally correcting the pronunciation.

  Ailbert tried to repeat the words his sister said, and Gwen laughed as he mispronounced Awena’s mispronunciations. Soon they were all laughing and the lesson became an enjoyable game.

  Awena pointed to an object they had learned the name of and Ailbert tried to remember what it was called, and then did the same for Awena to try. This way, the afternoon passed quickly and Gwen got up to stir a stew thickened with oats, ready for the evening meal. The smell of the salt beef had been permeating the house for some time and Ailbert’s stomach began to rumble.

  Gwen laughed. “It won’t be long now,” she advised the young man as she regained her seat on one of the benches.

  Several days passed in a similar manner. One day, Ailbert managed to go outside the village with Madoc. They took a couple of hunting dogs, but did not manage to raise any game.

  While outside the stockade, Ailbert continued his language lessons by asking Madoc the names of things they saw. He soon learned the names of a number of trees and birds, as well as the words for field and wall.

  He decided nouns were all well and good, but he needed to know more words. He began to ask about movement. He could show Madoc some things, like walk and run, even sit and lie, but when it came to fly, which he wanted to know when a flock of starlings flew by, it became more difficult. He jumped up and down flapping his arms until Madoc could not contain himself and doubled up with laughter. In a short time, Ailbert was laughing too, and the pair made their way back to the village, giggling like a pair of young girls.

  So this is freedom, Ailbert thought. I’ve laughed more in two days than I did in two months in Londinium. I like it.

  That day, Gwen sat the pair down and said, “I’ve asked the chief if you can stay here with me. You're the same age my boys would have been if they’d lived, and I enjoy your company. You’ll not be a replacement for my children of course, but I’ve been alone since the death of the three who were dearest to me. I’d like someone to share my home. He asked if you wanted this, and I said I didn’t know as I hadn’t asked. He told me to ask you and to go back tomorrow to see him.”

  Awena stood up and threw her arms round the older woman. “We’d love to stay here, wouldn’t we, Ailbert?”

  “Yes, if that’s possible.” Ailbert frowned. “But won’t that be dangerous for you and the rest of the village, us being so near to Londinium? There’s also the problem of our hair. We have to keep dying it with walnut juice so our light hair doesn’t show. If a Roman from Londinium saw our hair, they’d know who we are and then you’d all be in trouble for harbouring runaway slaves.”

  “Oh, tush,” Gwen replied with a wave of her hand. “Walnut juice is easy to get. Huw can get walnuts in Londinium and I can brew the juice for your hair just as simply.”

  The next day they got permission to stay with Gwen. The headman asked a lot of questions, but in the end decided that with their hair dyed brown they would not be recognised, so it would be fairly safe for them to stay. In fact, he said, it was sometimes better to hide in full view; the Romans would not think the escaped slaves would stay so close to Londinium, and would soon be searching further afield.

  Over the next few months, Ailbert and Awena concentrated on learning the unfamiliar language. They had a few problems with pronunciation, but Gwen was pleased with their progress.

  Ailbert noticed whenever he was with Madoc, Awena was coming out of the house or passing by as they prepared for a hunt or went to tend to the animals. He also noticed Madoc’s eyes follow his sister as she walked by.

  He scowled as he thought about this. Awena was coming up to fourteen and had started to become aware of her impact on the men of the village. Madoc was not the only one to watch her as she passed, and Ailbert felt none too pleased at the looks in the eyes of some of them, and not just the young ones either. He did not want her to be taken advantage of. She was still a relatively innocent girl who did not know much about the wiles of men. True, she had received training in the brothel, and had learned a hard lesson with the Dominus, but underneath, Ailbert could see an innocent girl still there. No question, she could easily be taken advantage of.

  He had promised his mother when he was only six years old that he would take care of her. He had done so all these years and would continue to do so. Warily, he watched Madoc and the others through narrowed eyes.

  The weather grew steadily colder as winter crept on. The villagers slaughtered more of the animals and Ailbert helped with that, but Awena could not bear to see them being killed and, on those days, stayed inside the house.

  Awena started to learn the things a young girl would have learned as she grew up. Gwen started her off combing the wool from the sheep. She did not have much left from the fleeces the villagers had shorn the previous spring, but she found enough so that the girl could learn.

  The fleece had already been washed, Gwen told her, and as she combed them to make the fibres line up, the older woman enlightened her about the dyes they used to make the colours the Britons used in their colourful clothing. Awena found this job of combing the wool soothing and, as it did not take much brainpower, she could talk to Gwen while doing it.

  Gwen insisted they speak in the British language all the time.

  As Awena worked, she frowned in concentration. “Would you please repeat that?” she asked in Latin.

  Gwen stopped spinning and looked at the girl with hard eyes. “In Brittonic, please.”

  Awena looked abashed. “Sorry.” She reverted to her new language. “You say again, please.”

  “I said, you're ready to learn how to spin the wool now.”

  Awena’s eyes lit up. “Really? You think I can do spin wool?”

  “We’ll not know until we try, will we?” Gwen smiled at the girl’s eagerness. “Now, put that combed wool down and come over here.”

  Gwen began to teach her the techniques of spinning. She took the wool between her finger and thumb, and twisted it dextrously. At the same time, she set a spindle rotating and the spun wool twisted itself around the spindle neatly.

  “Now you try,” she instructed the young girl, who was watching intently.

  Awena took the spindle and the thread of wool from Gwen, and tried to twist it as she had seen the older woman doing. It was not as easy as it looked when done by an expert. She found it difficult to keep the spindle spinning while twisting the wool.

  After a few minutes, she held up her work and cried out to Gwen. “Look what I done! I ruin piece of wool. It all … er … bumpy.”

  Gwen laughed. “You should have seen my first attempts. They were a lot worse than yours. For a first time, that’s quite good.”

  “No! You be kind.”

  “I mean it. You must keep on practising, though.”

  Awena frowned and continued spinning, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, while Gwen picked up a tunic she was making with c
loth she had woven earlier.

  Ailbert, in the meantime, learned more masculine tasks. He went on hunts with the other men and learned to use a sling to bring down small game. He had killed his first pigeon only a month after beginning to learn, and felt pleased with himself. However, that had been pure luck, as he did not manage to kill anything else for a number of weeks, while the other young men all had several kills to their names.

  This did not deter Ailbert because he realised the others had been learning since childhood, and while they mocked his lack of skill, it was in a friendly way.

  Day by day, his skills increased. His proficiency in the Brittonic language also improved daily. He did not receive the one-to-one tuition his sister did, but he learned by doing. He quickly understood the words for various animals, both the domesticated variety and the wild ones they hunted. He absorbed the words for different trees and plants too, as well as the crops they planted in the fields.

  Ploughing began and he learned to guide the oxen pulling the plough. At first, his furrows were far from straight, but the animals knew what they were supposed do and this helped him. After the ploughing had finished, they scattered seed on the ground and said prayers to the goddess of fertility, making offerings to ensure a good crop.

  The months passed. Both became better at the language and could now hold conversations. They did not even speak Latin to each other now. Gwen had long since stopped giving translations when her charges did not understand, and laughed when they had problems with words. In this way, they were forced to learn as quickly as possible.

  Awena became better and better at spinning, and by the time the unspun wool ran out, the wool she had spun was good enough to make blankets, if not yet good enough to make clothes.

  Ailbert became quite proficient with the sling too and rarely missed his target when he shot at it; the village did not go short of fresh game when they became tired of smoked or dried mutton or beef.

  11

  Soon it was Imbolc, the time when young lambs were born. The villagers had much preparation to do, for they invited the goddess, Brigid, into their homes to bless them, and they prepared special food for this day.

  Awena was delighted when the villagers chose her to help carry the image of Brigid around the village. She helped clean the house with enthusiasm, sweeping out all the old rushes and piling them up outside, ready to be lit into a bonfire.

  Ailbert laughed at her enthusiasm, saying he had never thought of her as a domestic type.

  She stuck her tongue out at him in response. “It’s important that everything is ready for Brigid.”

  “What about the gods we worshipped in Londinium? Have you forgotten them? Jupiter, Juno, Venus and the rest?”

  “They’re gods for the Romans.” She shook her head. “They’ve no use for the Britons. Only if we become Roman Citizens will they care for us, and that’s not going to happen. We’re now Britons and we must worship the gods that care for the Britons.” She carried on sweeping while Ailbert continued walking towards the sheep pens to see if any lambs had yet been born.

  He met Madoc on the way and the boy told him excitedly that one of the ewes had gone into labour and the lamb, or hopefully lambs, would arrive very shortly. Ailbert quickened his steps towards the pens in the hope of seeing the actual birth. Being a house slave in Londinium, he had never been present at the birth of any animals owned by the Dominus and Domina.

  They arrived in time to see the ewe pushing out what turned out to be the first of two lambs. Ailbert frowned. He had not expected blood. The little lamb lay on the ground, wet, and the mother turned to look at him, for it was a male lamb. Ailbert watched as she began to lick him clean. The second lamb was born soon afterwards and she repeated the process. The lambs staggered to their feet and immediately began suckling.

  Ailbert smiled. He had witnessed a wonderful thing: new life being brought into the world. He ran off to tell Awena and Gwen that the first lambs had been born, and Imbolc was due to start.

  At sunset that evening, the unwed girls carried the image of Brigid around the village. The villagers had made a crude image of reeds and the girls visited each house in turn, walked three times round it, and then asked for admittance for Brigid. Each house opened the door and let the image and girls in. They gave them food and each householder added a decoration to the reed image.

  For some weeks before, the women and girls had been busy making Brigid crosses out of reeds, and one hung over the door of each house.

  As it was winter still, it soon grew dark. Each household put out newly made clothes, and food and drink for the goddess. They also made a bed for her in the house, just in case she decided to visit.

  They ate and drank the foods made for this special day. They had a kind of porridge made from the starch left in the husks of the oats, soaked, and left to ferment. It tasted sour to Ailbert and Awena, but they ate their share as it would have been discourteous to do otherwise.

  The next morning, Gwen looked carefully at the ashes that she had raked smooth the evening before, to see any disturbances that might indicate that Brigid had visited during the night, but they were as smooth as they had been when they all went to bed.

  Gwen led the way outside, to be met with frost on the ground and an overcast sky. “Ah! That’s good. A cold, miserable day means that the Cailleach is still asleep and not gathering wood for fires to keep her warm through the next cold spell.” She turned to the young people who frowned and looked at each other.

  Ailbert shrugged.

  “Cailleach is winter personified. If today is bright and sunny, then she can come out and look for firewood, and so keep herself warm for longer. If it’s cold and miserable, or rainy and stormy, then she’s asleep and will soon run out of firewood, so Brigid can bring the spring sooner.”

  They, along with the rest of the village, made their way to the well. Here, they walked round it in the direction of the sun and prayed to Brigid to bring health and prosperity. They gave the goddess offerings of strips of cloth and a few coins.

  Singing and dancing followed, as well as eating and drinking, and the day passed quickly, darkness coming early during this time of year, halfway between the winter solstice and spring equinox. Tired and happy with the prospect of a good season to come, the villagers finally retired to their beds.

  The next morning, as Gwen went about her normal tasks, Awena spoke to her. “What do you think of Madoc?”

  “Madoc? Why are you asking?”

  The young girl blushed. “He keeps on looking at me when I go outside.”

  Gwen smiled inwardly. So that was the way it was. She wondered why Awena kept making excuses to go outside. “Do you like him?”

  Awena blushed again. “Yes. He seems very nice.”

  “He comes from a good family. His father’s the blacksmith, of course. Quite a high rank here in our society. You, of course, have no actual rank, being an immigrant. We’ve no idea what rank your parents had. Do you think your brother might know something about that? Perhaps he remembers what your father did in your home village.”

  Awena looked at Gwen. What was she suggesting?

  As they talked, Ailbert entered. “Ailbert,” Awena said, “Do you remember what our father did in our home village?”

  “As far as I can remember, he was a fisherman. I remember going fishing with him many times, but whether that was just for fun or it was his main job, I really couldn’t say.”

  “Fisherman?” Gwen scratched her head. “We don’t have fishermen here. At least not as a profession. Some of the men sometimes go out onto the river and catch a few fish, but that’s all. What sort of rank would he have?”

  “I’ve no idea. As a little boy, I didn’t think of rank. Why do you want to know?”

  Gwen shrugged and thought for a few minutes, then looked at Awena. “I suppose we could say he was the equivalent of a farmer. That’s a bit below that of a blacksmith, but I think we could overcome that problem. How would you like it if I
went to his father and asked him about handfasting between you two?”

  Both the young people gasped. This was not what they had been expecting.

  “H-hand-f-fasting?” Awena stuttered. “I … well … yes,” she finally managed to say.

  Ailbert was not so sure. “She’s still very young,” he told Gwen firmly. “Only thirteen, or perhaps fourteen. We can’t really remember when either of us was born, so we’ve been calculating our ages from the day we were taken as slaves.”

  “She’s old enough to know she’s attracted to Madoc, and he to her. She’s also very pretty and very innocent. More so than our own young girls. This could be a danger to her as some man or other could exploit her for his own ends. If she were to be handfasted, it would be protection for her.”

  Ailbert nodded, although it was with hesitation. He still thought of his sister as a little girl he needed to protect. “I suppose that makes sense. Go ahead if you wish and speak to Madoc’s father. I like the young man, and if I’m to have a brother-in-law, then I would be happier if it were someone I liked.”

  Two days later, Gwen received an agreement from Madoc’s father that they could be betrothed at Beltane. That same day, Huw came back from a trip to Londinium with disconcerting news.

  “Maeve's been taken,” he said as he came into the house.

  “How can that be?” Gwen asked him, stunned. “She’s always so careful about keeping herself the perfect Roman wife.”

  “I don’t know the details, but it seems someone saw something. Anyway, the old woman was taken and tortured. She gave Maeve away.”

  “But she wasn’t supposed to know who our contact in Londinium is. How did she find out?”

  “I know Maeve went to her insula when Awena and Ailbert were being rescued. She has some sort of interest in them, but I don’t know why. I saw her there. She had wrapped herself up so no one could see her face though, and I’d be surprised if she were recognisable. How the old woman came to know who she was, is beyond me.”