by V. M. Sang
“I remember Maeve,” Awena put in, her expression sombre. “She often came to the house of the Domina. She was the Domina’s friend. I think they both came from the same village.”
Gwen looked at the girl. “Yes, they did. It was this village. Maeve is our sister and when the Roman came and asked her to marry him, she agreed in order to help rescue Britons from Roman slavery.”
“She’s helped many slaves to escape, but has always kept in the background until now,” Huw told them. “I only hope they don’t torture her to find out where she sent the slaves. That will mean danger for all of us in the village.”
“Is everyone involved?” asked Ailbert, staring at Gwen.
“No. Not everyone knows some of us are helping slaves to escape. Some couldn’t be trusted because they can’t help gossiping, and a few others would give us away for the rewards they would get from the Romans.”
“This means danger for myself, Gwen and you two especially,” Huw declared. He thought for a moment. “We need to get you three away.”
Gwen huffed. “I’m not going anywhere, leaving you and your family in danger. You have a wife and three little children, remember?”
Awena stared at the others. “Surely they wouldn’t harm the children, would they?”
Ailbert looked at her. “Remember why we’re here, Awena,” he said. “The Romans took us because they thought we were pretty and unusual children. It wasn’t for punishment. They’d already punished our village. They wouldn’t hesitate to enslave Huw’s children just as they did us. In fact, they might think it was justice in view of the fact that Huw has been involved in rescuing slaves.”
Awena spoke after a long pause. “What about my betrothal to Madoc? I can keep my hair dyed and no one would recognise me as the girl who was Claudia’s slave.”
“It’s not a risk we can take,” Gwen stated. “If your hair is beginning to show its true colour at the roots just when a Roman’s around, then you’ll be recognised as surely as if you’d not dyed it at all. They aren’t stupid, these Romans, more’s the pity. And they never give up searching for escaped slaves either. Unfortunately, many we rescued were re-captured. I don’t want that to happen to you two. I’ve come to look on you as my family.”
“Then we’ll have to go,” Ailbert said firmly. “Where will we go to though?”
“You must get a long way away from Londinium. I think north, up Ermine Street. There’s a new town being developed called Eberacum. The ninth legion built a fort there about ten years ago and the town's been growing ever since.”
Ailbert drew back slightly. “Are you suggesting we go and live in a town full of Roman soldiers?”
“Not at all,” Huw replied. “You’ll go to one of the villages nearby. It’s the land of the Brigantes. They’ve been a bit divided about Rome over the last few years. Just before the Romans founded Eberacum, there was some trouble.”
“Trouble?” Ailbert said.
“Queen Cartimandua was in favour of Rome, but her husband wasn’t. There were a few skirmishes between the pair, and the Cartimandua’s husband captured her. Unfortunately, the Romans rescued her and then they began to build Eberacum. I suppose it was to keep the Brigantes quiet. However, there are still enough Brigantes who hate the Romans to take some escaped slaves, especially if they’re Britons!”
Ailbert gazed down upon hearing this reference to him being a Briton. He had not come to terms with the fact that he was there under false pretences. He sometimes wondered if he should have stayed in Londinium in order to make his revenge on the Romans easier. He had not yet done anything—not killed a single Roman soldier.
Then he looked up, excitement growing. If these Brigantes hated the Romans, perhaps they would help him get his revenge. He had begun to talk to the young men of Treavon about getting back at the Romans but, as yet, he had not managed to spur any action.
His reverie was interrupted by Awena bursting into tears and jumping up from her seat. “I’ve just got betrothed and now I must leave. I don’t want to leave Madoc. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to go either. I must go and tell him.”
She took two steps to the door when Huw grabbed her. “No, girl!” He nodded to the seat. “Sit down again. If you’re to go, it must be in secret. If anyone—and I mean anyone—knows you’ve gone and where, then when the Romans come here, you’ll be betrayed.”
“Madoc wouldn’t …”
“Oh yes he would. Under torture, he’d tell them everything,” Ailbert told his sister, as he looked steadily into her eyes “Remember the old woman—she revealed Maeve’s part in all this under torture.”
“Ye … yes, but she was an old woman and not a brave young man, and she wasn’t protecting the one she was going to be handfasted to. I’d not tell them anything if it were Madoc in danger.”
Ailbert smiled gently. “Yes you would, Awena.” He took her in his arms. “You’d tell them everything and more. They can inflict pain such as you cannot imagine.”
Upset, Awena turned to Gwen. “Won’t you come with us? And you and your family, Huw? And why can’t Madoc come too?”
“If too many people leave the village and move north, then everyone will suffer. The Romans will suspect this village is involved in helping slaves to escape and they’ll wreak vengeance on everyone. No, Gwen and I will stay here, but I’ll send my family. We can say they have gone to visit relatives.”
The next morning, Ailbert and Awena left with Huw and his family on the pretext of going to see if some people they had heard of further north were their family. Huw reminded the villagers that his wife’s people came from further north and he gave that as a reason for them accompanying him. He advised Ailbert that they did occasionally visit his wife’s mother.
Huw’s wife, Dera, was a small dark-haired woman with hazel eyes that always seemed to be laughing at something, although now they looked sad. Her eldest daughter, a dark-haired girl like her mother, stood with her mouth turned down and scuffing her feet in the dirt. She was about ten years old and didn’t want to go on this journey. The children had been told nothing until they got into the ox cart, just in case they let something slip.
“Come on, Glenda,” her mother instructed. “Get into the cart or you’ll be left behind.”
“Leave me then,” the girl retorted. “Aunt Gwen’ll look after me until you come back, won’t you, Aunt Gwen?”
Gwen gently pushed the girl towards the cart. “Get in, Glenda. Don’t hold everyone up. Look, your brothers are ready.”
Reluctantly, Glenda climbed into the cart and off they went.
Madoc came out of his house and called, “Where are you going, Awena?”
Huw replied for the girl, who didn’t know what to say. “We’re off to see if some people in a village further north could possibly be Ailbert and Awena’s parents. We heard they lost a girl and boy about their age to the Romans, so we thought we’d better go and see. Then, Dera and I will visit Dera's family while we’re up north.”
Madoc nodded as he heard this answer and called after the disappearing cart, “See you when you get back, Awena. We can then start to plan our handfasting.” He turned away wondering why his words had made Awena burst into tears.
12
Maeve sat waiting for the slave market to begin. She shivered in the cold of the early March day. She knew she was lucky not to have been tortured to give away her co-conspirators in the freeing of Britons from slavery. The old woman, sadly, had died under torture and had given Maeve away, but Maeve could not blame her for that. She thought she would have probably given away even Huw and Gwen if they had tortured her.
Agricola, the Roman governor, decided that a suitable punishment for her would be slavery for herself and he ordered no punishment that would mar her in any way. He would make a nice little sum from her sale. She still had the good looks that had attracted her Roman husband and, while not in the first flush of youth, being in her early thirties, someone would buy her for her looks as well as her usefulness.
Maeve wished again she had not given in to her heart when she had visited the old woman’s insula, but had instead followed her head. She wanted to see them and make sure that Huw managed to get them away. Her mistake had been in revealing herself to them. She thought the old woman had gone, but perhaps she had caught a glimpse of Maeve on her return. She would not have known Maeve, of course, but she must have seen enough to be able to give a description—enough that someone recognised her from it and told the authorities. Then, they had come to take her prisoner.
Her husband divorced her, of course. That was to be expected. Her two children would be fine. She had to believe that. She knew he loved them, but he would be under pressure to reject them because of her criminal activities. Would people pressure him, too, because now they had become the children of a slave? Children of slaves were slaves themselves and could not inherit.
She frowned at this thought. If he remarried, as he was likely to do, and had other children, would he put them before hers? Yes, she decided. He would. At that thought, she wept for the first time since being arrested. She had condemned her own children to slavery.
Maeve heard sounds outside—people arriving at the slave market. The rumour had spread that the wife of a prominent Roman citizen had been put up for sale for criminal activities. Some knew what she had done, but the stories grew with the telling until it she had been accused of everything from theft to attempted murder.
The auctioneer came in and told the slaves to strip off their clothes. Maeve was to be the last lot of the day. She had been saved until the end because of her notoriety and because she was an attractive woman. As she had been the wife of a Roman citizen, she would know about the running of a household and would make a good housekeeper for someone. As she was a mature woman, she would not be flighty either. She knew all this as she walked out onto the platform. She had been to enough slave auctions on the other side.
She shivered in the cold and goosebumps rose on her skin. She became conscious of the hardening of her nipples in response to the cold too, and blushed but stood with her head held high as she looked out over the crowd. She was a Briton and proud of it. She had rescued many of her compatriots and was proud of that too! She had nothing to be ashamed of. Romans would have endeavoured to free Roman citizens in her position, of this she had no doubt.
The auctioneer had done right in keeping her until the end. Most people stayed to see her sold, if not to bid themselves. Curiosity, of course, Maeve thought as she looked round the crowd.
The bidding began. It was hotly contested, but eventually a man she could not see won the bidding. As the auctioneer led her down from the platform, she saw Annwyl looking at her. She saw sympathy in her friend’s eyes as she turned away to return to her domus with her husband. Maeve knew she would never go into that house again, nor see her friend again. As she pulled on a tunic in preparation for leaving with her new owner, a tear trickled down her cheek … the last tear she shed.
Maeve walked into the room to meet the man who now owned her. She had little interest. She now had no rights and so it did not really matter who the man was. He would treat her as he saw fit. She would do her best to come to terms with her slavery, but the fact that she would never see her sons again almost made her tears begin anew, but she held her head high as she looked towards where the man handed over a purse of money.
There was something familiar about him, and when he turned around, Maeve gasped. She had been bought by none other than her ex-husband. She began to tremble as he approached. What would he do? Why had he bought her? Did he intend to treat her badly because of the things she had done? Had he guessed that she only married him so she could rescue slaves?
He took her by the arm and told her to get dressed. When she was again fully clothed, he led her back to the domus where they had lived as man and wife.
Only when they got inside did he speak to her. He sat down on a bench in the peristylium and closed his eyes, leaning back against no line break here!he wall. When he opened them, he watched her standing in front of him for a few minutes. Then, with pleading eyes, he asked, “Why, Maeve?”
She held her head high as she answered his question. “You Romans had no right to enslave Britons. You Romans think you have a right to do exactly as you please with anyone. You enslaved us all, all Britons, even those whom you made citizens. You’re clever enough to make us think we ruled ourselves by allowing our kings to continue in their place. But even they are under your rule.”
He gazed at his feet. “Did you ever love me, Maeve? I loved you. I still do.”
Maeve wanted to go to him, but she was now a slave and had to keep her place. “I didn’t love you at first. You were a good way to find out about where the slaves are.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. He would not look at her. “But then I learned what a good man you are. I never loved you as you love me, yet I learned to respect you, and like you, and yes, I love you, even if not quite the way you would wish.”
Her ex-husband stood and began to walk away. Then he slowly turned. “I bought you, Maeve, because I could not bear to think of you as a slave in another man’s domus. You will be my housekeeper.”
As he began to walk away, Maeve called after him. “What about the boys?”
He stopped, but did not turn this time. “Sadly, your activities have made slaves of them too. I love my boys, but I can no longer treat them in the same way. They will no longer be able to go to school, nor visit their friends. They will do small tasks around the domus, but I will not make them do anything too arduous, nor will I sell them, but their position has changed.”
Maeve put her hands over her eyes. Her beloved boys had become slaves. No longer the privileged sons of a wealthy Roman, but the sons of a slave, owning nothing.
“I wonder what will happen to Maeve,” Awena asked as they travelled northwards.
“She will probably be tortured to try to get her to say who else was involved,” Huw replied. “After that, if she survives, she might be put to death or she may be sold as a slave herself. It depends on what the Governor decides. If he’s had an argument with his wife, it may be death, but if he’s had a good day, he may be more lenient.”
“And what about Gwen?”
Huw shrugged. “Who knows? We can only pray that Maeve is strong enough to resist the torture. If she doesn’t tell them, then Gwen will be safe. If she does, then she will be in grave danger, but I trust her to manage to convince the authorities of her innocence. She’s a very clever woman, is Gwen. Our father always said she was the cleverest of us, even though she’s the youngest.”
They relapsed into silence, each with their own thoughts until young Gwayne, Hugh and Dera’s youngest child called out, “Aren’t they Roman soldiers?”
That brought everyone’s attention to the group of people approaching them. A troop of soldiers, indeed. Gwayne had been right.
“Do you think they’ve seen us yet?” Dera asked, gazing toward the soldiers .
“Can’t say, but we’d better not act suspiciously,” Huw answered. “They aren’t coming from the direction of Londinium and so may not know what’s been going on.”
“Should we hide?” Ailbert asked.
“No. That would make them suspicious if we suddenly disappeared into the woods. No, we’d be best carryingon and hope for the best.”
The soldiers soon reached the little group. There were eight soldiers and an officer. It was the small unit called a contubernium. As they passed, the decanus, as the officer in charge was called, stopped them to ask a question.
“We’re on the way back to Londinium. We heard there had been some trouble with the wife of a citizen. Something about freeing slaves, I believe. Do you know anything more about it?”
Huw shook his head. “We did hear something of the sort in our village, but we left before any more news came out.”
“Well, someone said she’d not been put to death but was going to be sold into slavery herself.” He laughed
. “A fitting punishment it seems to me. Well, we must be on our way.” He called his men together and they set off marching at a quick pace towards Londinium.
“If that’s true, then she’s not going to die.” Huw breathed a sigh of relief, but whether from the news that Maeve hadn’t been put to death or because the soldiers had gone, Ailbert could not tell.
The others smiled as they drove on northwards.
They did not stay at inns on the way, just in case anyone staying there knew what had happened in Londinium and suspected they were somehow involved. They camped by the side of the road, near a stream if possible, and ate the dried and smoked meats they brought with them, along with some cheese.
The little group travelled a long way from the village where they had all lived and it took them the best part of two weeks to get to the vicinity of Eberacum. As they drew nearer, they began to look for inhabited villages or towns showing they were Brigantii and not Roman. Eventually, they saw a hill fort ahead and changed direction to reach it.
They approached the gate, which was closed, and Huw called out. The gates opened slowly and the wagon rumbled across.
Two earthworks, one inside the other, enclosed a large open area of a thousand square metres. The town was built inside these defences. It appeared very like the village they had left, but much larger. The usual round houses were clustered in the middle and pens for the animals stood towards the northern end of the town. At the other end, the tradesmen had their workshops. There was, of course, a blacksmith and a potter, but also other tradesmen. They saw a tanner and a whitesmith. Ailbert spotted a leatherworker making the leather he got from the tanner into a variety of goods.
When he turned his attention to the animal enclosures, a grin spread over his face as he saw horses.
