Roman - The Fall of Britannia (20 page)

‘
How
old are you, Willow?’ asked Gwenno.

‘
Almost thirteen!’

‘
And
you have been here for four years?’

‘
Yes,’

‘
So
you must have only been nine when your uncle did those things to
you.’

‘
Yes, Miss.’

‘
Oh,
Willow,’ said Gwenno, ‘how awful!’

‘
My
aunty didn’t care though, she still got a good price,’ she said.
‘For even at nine I was very pretty and after she sold me, I was
brought here. It’s a very good life. All I do is serve you
and…well, other things, and in return I get a warm hut, food and I
get to serve you. I am a very, very lucky girl.’

They walked a
few more yards in silence.

‘
Willow,’ ventured Gwenno after a while, ‘have you served
other girls before me?’

‘
Yes, Miss, though you are by far the prettiest.’

‘
Many others?’

‘
Oh
yes, Miss and sometimes we even have princes as well as
princesses.’

Gwenno
laughed.

‘
I
am no princess, Willow,’ she said, ‘I am a simple village girl
whose father is a clan leader. Nothing more.’

‘
You
look like a princess to me,’ blushed Willow and they both laughed
in the morning air.

‘
So
tell me, Willow,’ said Gwenno, ‘all these other acolytes, where are
they now?’

‘
They have gone through the Henge, Miss, to the kingdom of the
Gods.’

‘
The
kingdom of the gods?’

‘
Oh
it is a wonderful place,’ said Willow, ‘where the trees are heavy
with the sweetest fruit and no one grows old. A magical place where
animals can talk and Gods appear to mortal man.’

‘
You
have been there?’ asked Gwenno in awe.

‘
Oh
no, Miss, I’m not important enough, though my cousin’s friend has,’
she said excitedly. ‘And he said, that in the ceremony of the cape,
a giant God comes to a sacred glade, and if he looks upon you his
blinding gaze can strike you dead.’

‘
Well!’ laughed Gwenno, ‘I am sure it is a special place, but
even so, your cousin’s friend or whoever he is may have exaggerated
just a bit.’

‘
Oh
no, Miss,’ said Willow, a look of awe in her face, ‘it is true, for
though I have never been to the Henge, I have seen the cape with my
own eyes.’

‘
You
have?’ asked Gwenno in amusement. ‘What is it like?’

‘
The
most beautiful thing you have ever seen,’ said Willow wistfully.
‘So beautiful in fact, I don’t have the words to describe it. No
matter though, you will see it yourself soon enough.’

‘
And
what is it for?’

‘
When the chosen one is summoned, they are given the cape as a
sign of their purity and are given a kingdom of their own,’ said
Willow. ‘A beautiful place, full of grazing and waterfalls as far
as the eye can see. You see, Miss, you must be a princess, for only
princesses can become queens. And that is what you will soon be, a
queen of your own lands.’

Gwenno gasped in
astonishment, her heart racing.

‘
I
knew it, ‘she said excitedly, ‘I always said my destiny was to
become a queen.’ She grabbed Willows both hands in hers. ‘Oh,
Willow,’ she said, ‘I can hardly wait. When do you think my time
will come?’

‘
Soon, Miss,’ said Willow. ‘Very soon.’

----

Chapter 14

Prydain swung a
high blow toward his opponent’s head, easily parried by the
German’s own blade, and immediately brought down his Gladius to
deflect Hanzer’s retaliatory thrust. The fight had been equal, and
both had fought ferociously until the exhaustion took its toll and
the ferociousness of the attacks waned. The two combatants fell
apart again, gasping for breath, yet both still equal in skill and
intent.

‘
You
fight well, Roman.’ gasped Hanzer.

‘
Not
well enough,’ replied Prydain, ‘for you still breathe, but that is
about to change.’

The sound of
running men crashing through the undergrowth interrupted the
confrontation and both span around, brandishing their weapons in
defence. Hanzer lowered his sword in relief as Germanic warriors
surrounded their leader and his opponent. Prydain cursed his luck
and maintained his defensive stance, spinning around on the spot as
they closed in on him.

‘
I
want him alive,’ shouted Hanzer in his native language, the strange
words not understood by Prydain.

The circle
closed even tighter, and as Prydain defended a false attack from a
warrior to his front, the haft of a spear smashed him across the
head from behind. He dropped to the floor half-conscious as several
men fell on him and tied his arms behind his back. Hanzer crouched
down next to him.

‘
It
seems you were wrong, Roman.’ he said, ‘I breathe yet,’

‘
Just get on with it,’ Prydain groaned through gritted teeth,
struggling to deal with the pain in his head.

‘
Don’t be in such a hurry, Roman;’ said Hanzer, ‘you will die
soon enough.’ He stood up sharply. ‘The battle is lost,’ he called
to the rapidly increasing numbers joining him in the clearing, ‘but
our ancestors can still be honoured. Get back to the camp.’ Prydain
was hauled to his feet and forced forward at spear-point, stumbling
through the undergrowth as he tried to keep up with the pace of the
escaping warriors.

----

Several hours
later, Prydain was sitting against a tree in the warrior’s camp,
his hands tied tightly behind the trunk. Hanzer had made it clear
that this was to be his last night in this life and while the
warriors got drunk, Prydain tried, unsuccessfully to free his
bonds. One eye was completely closed and his body ached from the
beating he had received when they reached the camp. Night had
fallen and a single fire burnt in the centre of the camp, shielded
on three sides to minimise the light that may be seen from the
valleys below. Warriors lay sleeping around the clearing and the
camp was silent except for the occasional crackle from the
fire.

Suddenly a
familiar voice whispered from the undergrowth.

‘
Prydain,’

Prydain lifted
his head, and strained to hear the voice again.

‘
Prydain, keep quiet, it is me,’ said the voice
again.

‘
Montellus?’ quizzed Prydain through his swollen lips. ‘What
are you doing here?’

‘
Well, it’s not for the intelligent conversation that’s for
sure, now shut up while I cut your bonds. I have a horse back in
the woods. We have to get there as quietly as possible and get the
fuck out of here.’

‘
There’s a guard that passes every minute,’ whispered Prydain.
‘He will notice I’m gone and raise the alarm.’

‘
Leave him to me,’ said Montellus finally cutting through the
binds. ‘I’ll let you know when the coast is clear. Most of them are
drunk and I don’t fancy your chances much when they sober
up.’

‘
Me
neither,’ said Prydain before adding, ‘Montellus wait, look over
there, by the fire.’

Montellus stared
in the direction of Prydain’s gaze and saw the item attracting his
attention. Stuck in the ground was Hanzer’s lance and hanging from
the shaft was the Germanic standard. Enemy standards were greatly
prized by all armies and seldom did a soldier of any country get a
chance to obtain one.

‘
What do you think?’ asked Prydain.

‘
Forget it,’ said Montellus, ‘let’s just get out of
here.’

‘
Like you said, most of them are sleeping; we won’t get
another chance like this.’

Montellus
hesitated but before he could answer, a guard came toward them out
of the darkness. Silently, the Roman retreated into the undergrowth
and Prydain stared up at the German in contempt, his arms still
behind the tree but unbound. The old warrior paused for a moment,
gave an evil smile and spat in Prydain’s face, the globule of
spittle running down his cheek. It took all of Prydain’s
self-control not to jump up now his hands were free, but realising
they were far too close to the others and that any noise would
bring them running, drunk or not, he stayed still and watched as
the man continued his patrol along the perimeter of the
camp.

A moment later
Prydain heard a muffled sound and saw the warrior struggling
quietly in the darkness. Montellus had grabbed him from behind and
with one hand over his mouth, sliced open the warrior’s throat with
his Pugio. The guard fell to the floor and Montellus beckoned
Prydain to follow him. Prydain hesitated for a second, but deciding
to seize the opportunity, crept between the trees toward the
standard, stepping over two drunken bodies as he went. He pulled
the spear from the ground, and started back toward the forest edge,
holding the weapon in front of him as he went.

Unexpectedly, a
second guard came out of nowhere, both he and Prydain as shocked as
the other at the unexpected confrontation. Prydain could see the
guard was young, nothing more than a teenager, and the
inexperienced boy was momentarily paralysed in fear. His terrified
eyes opened wide, but before he could utter any sound of warning,
Prydain drove the spear straight through his face, and out through
the back of his skull. The boy fell backwards to the ground, arms
flailing uselessly at the lethal staff.

The very
position of the standard behind the spear point meant that it too
was driven through the shattered skull and realising it would be
too complicated to retrieve the lance, Prydain took the boy’s own
knife and cut the blood-stained cloth from the pole. He looked
around one more time to see if the alert had been given, and when
no further movement was evident, he left the camp, making his way
as quietly as possible through the thicket to where Montellus was
waiting.

‘
Over here!’ hissed a voice and Prydain joined his comrade by
the horse. ‘You prick,’ said Montellus, ‘you could have got us both
killed.’

‘
No
harm done,’ said Prydain, tucking the standard beneath the front of
the saddle, ‘now let’s get out of here, there may be
others.’

They crept
silently down the track until they were out of earshot and after
mounting the horse, made their way quickly down the tree-covered
slopes. Neither was familiar with the area, and the only reference
they had was the glade where the battle had taken place earlier.
Luckily for Prydain, who had been semi-conscious most of the way to
the enemy camp, Montellus had had a chance to memorize the route
and they made their way there as fast as the horse could carry
them.

‘
I
think this is it,’ said Montellus over his shoulder to Prydain. ‘I
recognise that stream.’ They got off the horse to take a drink.
‘The glade is at the base of this mountain,’ continued Montellus.
‘From there it is another five hours march back to camp, but if
we…’

He stopped
short, as if suddenly confused and looked down at the arrow head
protruding from his own chest. Prydain had heard the thud of the
strike, but he too was momentarily confused as to the implications
until he saw the blood pouring from the wound. Another arrow
slammed into Montellus’s back and he fell forward into Prydain’s
arms, who quickly dragged him down behind the cover of some nearby
rocks.

‘
Shit,’ said Prydain. ‘It must be a straggler from the battle,
hang in there friend, I’ll try and sort you out.’

Montellus tried
to speak, but no sound came, and Prydain held him in his arms as
his comrade descended into oblivion.

‘
Fuck!’ he hissed to himself, realising Montellus was dead. He
laid him down gently; fully aware he was still in trouble. The span
of time between arrows meant that there was probably only one
archer and he must be close due to the strength of the impact, but
Prydain had no idea where he was. He peered over the rocks at the
upper slope, trying to spot the archers position. He knew he
couldn’t waste any time, as Hanzer and his men were surely aware of
his escape by now and must be in pursuit. He undid the leather
strap of Montellus’s helmet and placing it on a stick, lifted it
slightly above the lip of the rocks, inviting the archer to take
another shot.

He peered
through the undergrowth at the side of the rocks, watching for the
attacker to fall for the ruse. A movement in the bracken caught
Prydain’s eye and sure enough, an arrow bounced off the rock next
to the helmet, revealing the ambusher’s position. Prydain
immediately sprinted forward into the dead ground directly below
the archer, knowing he had seconds before the bow could be
re-armed. Now he was in cover, he shuffled sideways along the
ground, and crawled up the streambed until he was above the
archer’s position. He peered over the bank and after a few seconds,
saw the back of the archer as he stared nervously down toward
Prydain’s last known position. As slowly as he could and keeping
his body tightly pressed onto a muddy trail, Prydain half crawled
and half slid down toward his attacker, who was now kneeling up,
his neck stretched to try to see where his target had gone. When he
was within ten metres, Prydain realised it was as close as he could
get and taking a fresh grip on Montellus’s Gladius, got slowly to
his feet.