Empire's Edge, page 9
He pointed at Abria. "She killed him."
The sentry's grip on the spear tightened, and for a second there was silence.
The calm was shattered by the deep booming voice of the sentry yelling. "To the gate, to the gate."
"The mail shirts Hugh, grab them," Dafydd shouted, pulling Megan behind him. Abria remained on the path, defiant.
Dafydd discarded the woolen overshirt and Megan helped him on with the mail. By the time she’d finished, the man at the gate had been joined by six others; all but one carried a spear. The odd man out stood a hair taller than the rest, with a bushy beard that would have made a modern-day, skinny jean wearing hipster jealous. His long dark hair rested on broad shoulders. He stepped forward, and it was only then that the sword dangling from his hip became visible. He took several steps towards Abria, but she remained still.
"Daughter; you have the gall to return after all these months?"
"Wait. Did he just say daughter?" Megan said. She turned to her right and Dafydd's open-mouthed expression matched her own.
"And if that is not enough, you bring Romans with you?"
"They are not Romans," Abria replied.
Her father’s eyes narrowed. "They look like Romans to me."
Dafydd stepped forward. "On occasion sir, looks can be deceiving."
"That does not explain who in the name of Taranis you are and what you are doing traveling with my disgraced daughter."
"Our story is long, as has been our journey; if you might spare us some food and water, perhaps I could try and explain?"
Megan had to admire Dafydd’s boldness. It was risky though. On the plus side, they might receive much needed sustenance. The downside? Well, they had no idea what Abria had done to piss off her dad so much. There was also the small matter of the three men they’d killed not two hours ago. Hopefully, they were from a neighboring village not this one.
Megan glanced back down the path. If they made a run for it, they wouldn't get far before a spear landed in their backs.
Abria's father waved them forward and with Dafydd at their head, they walked through the gates and into the village. The huts were similar to the ones in the village near Flint — circular, with thatched conical roofs. There was perhaps ten feet between the hut on the left and the one to the right. There wasn't a path between them as such, the dirt floor extended over the whole compound.
Megan noticed several people whispering and pointing in their direction. She wasn't sure if it was Dafydd and Hugh's attire or the return of Abria causing the chatter. As most doing the pointing were female, she guessed it to be the latter.
When they’d almost reached the back end of the village, Abria's father veered off in the direction of a large hut — in fact it was the biggest they’d seen; Megan guessed he must be the chief.
Hugh glanced around before following Dafydd. The look on his face suggested that like Megan, he had also noted how far they were from the entrance should Dafydd's diplomacy fall on deaf ears.
He nudged Megan and with a smile indicated with his head. Her eyes followed his gesture; there were a dozen or so goats in a pen. The smallest bleated as they walked past. Megan returned his smile, then followed Dafydd and Abria into the hut.
The interior was dimly lit by a fire in the center; a woman tended a pot suspended over the smoldering embers. She had a slender build and long black hair. She had her back to them, so Megan couldn't see her face.
The chief's voice echoed around the hut. "Briana, we have company."
She turned and Megan’s mouth fell open. She was as beautiful as the girl standing beside her, and it wasn't rocket science to work out who she was.
"Hello mam," Abria said quietly.
Her mother remained silent; no greeting, no rushing forward to fling her arms around her daughter. What had Abria done?
The chief pointed to one of two low-lying wooden benches; they sat down, and an uneasy, oppressive silence hung in the air.
It was Abria's mother who eventually broke the hush. "So, where have you been these past months?"
Abria remained silent.
"Well child, I asked you a question."
Abria mumbled her reply. "Deva."
"Deva," her mother shrieked.
Her father solemnly shook his head. Megan struggled to contain a chuckle. If that piece of information was upsetting, they would go apeshit if they found out what she'd been doing there.
Dafydd rose. And gave a cursory bow of the head. "I don't know what your daughter has done to elicit your anger, but I will say this. Without her help, my compatriots and I would not have escaped from Deva."
Her father's expression softened. If Megan wasn't mistaken she saw a flicker of pride.
"That's all very well, but what was she doing there? Where was she living?" her mother asked.
Typical mom, Megan thought. Straight to the heart of the matter with the sixty-four-thousand dollar question.
There was a deafening silence. Megan glanced at Abria, but she remained tight lipped, so Megan rose and stood next to Dafydd.
Pointed to herself, she said, "With me."
Abria's mom looked her up and down, as if noticing Megan for the first time.
"Doing what exactly?"
That follow up question came as no surprise to Megan. Moms were moms whatever the time period.
"Housemaid," Dafydd blurted out.
Abria's mom looked skeptical, but seemed placated; for the time being at least.
"Abria, get some bowls for our guests; they are in the same place they always were," she said.
Abria dutifully rose and walked to the far end of the hut. After helping her mother fill them, she began handing them out.
Dafydd made a point of inhaling deeply. "Smells delicious Briana; may I call you Briana?" He flashed a beaming smile in the direction of Abria's mother.
"Tis my given name." The reply was accompanied by barely a crack of her thin lips.
"Well, we thank you for your hospitality. My name is Dafydd; this is Hugh." He clapped him on the shoulder. "And the lovely young lady to my left is Megan."
Megan nodded and smiled.
Briana held out a hand. "My husband, and village chieftain, Gronw."
Dafydd placed his bowl on the dirt floor, rose and bowed deeply.
Gronw nodded his acknowledgment.
Dafydd sat back on the bench, and they tucked into the stew. Under normal circumstances — back in the twenty-first century — the fat swimming on the surface and the discovery of the occasional bone would have put Megan off, but these were definitely not normal circumstances, plus she was starving.
Gronw indicted toward Hugh. "Does the boy not speak?"
"He's the strong silent type," Dafydd replied.
Megan suppressed a snigger.
Gronw indicated his head toward me. "And the girl speaks in a strange dialect."
"She is not from these parts."
Understatement of the week from Dafydd.
Gronw switched his gaze toward his daughter. "So, have you told your new friends how you brought shame upon this household, and village?"
Abria shifted awkwardly on the bench, then shook her head as it drooped toward her chest.
"She ran away to avoid marriage to a powerful chieftain."
"He was hideous," Abria muttered under her breath.
"The union would have brought much prestige to the village. And if that isn't bad enough, Ennis at the gate tells me you are all accused of killing three men."
"They wanted to abduct us," Abria snapped, pointing at herself, then Megan.
Gronw looked skeptical. "In the morning I will talk with the man and make a decision on the matter. You may sleep here tonight."
There was one straw mattress in the room, but Megan doubted they’d be invited to use it. It was the floor for them, and if they were lucky, in the morning they'd be sent on their way unharmed. If not? Well, at least they’d received a last supper.
CHAPTER 21 - Reluctant Bride
Hugh’s whispering woke Megan up.
"Come on Megan, Dafydd is waiting outside."
She sat up; there was barely any light in the hut.
"What time is it?" Megan asked, realizing a second later what a stupid question it was. Like any person from the thirteenth century, Hugh didn't possess a watch, but old habits apparently die hard. Somebody wakes you up and it's still dark, you ask what time it is.
They silently made their way toward the door. Megan glanced back at the sleeping figure of Abria.
"Are we making a run for it?" she whispered.
Hugh shrugged.
They stepped into the chilly air of predawn and Dafydd turned at their approach. "Ah, there you are, good."
"Are we making a run for it?" Megan asked.
He looked pensive. "I'm seriously considering it."
"What do you think Gronw will do if we stay?"
"It depends on where the men we killed are from. If it is a smaller village, or one he is certain will not cause him any trouble then perhaps he will let us go."
"And if not?"
Dafydd's face set into a grim smile. "Then, we'll likely wish we had stayed in Deva."
"What about your weapons?"
"Lord alone knows which hut they are in. We may have to leave without them."
"Is that wise?"
Dafydd gave a cross between a chuckle and a snort. "Probably not."
Hugh chimed in. "It seems as though we are caught between the hammer and the anvil."
Dafydd chuckled. "Indeed we are Master Hugh."
"I don't understand," Megan said.
"It is something my father says," Hugh replied. "When he is faced with a situation where he must decide between two options, both of which are bad, that's what he says."
"Oh, I get you," she replied. "But what about Abria?"
"Leave her sleeping for now," Dafydd said. "Let us take a stroll toward the gate; see if Gronw posted an overnight guard."
Megan glanced across at the animal pen and saw that the cute little goats were slumbering, like the rest of the village.
They got within a dozen steps of the small hut adjacent to the shuttered gate before a figure emerged carrying a spear. He glowered at them and Dafydd waved, then veered off; Megan and Hugh following close behind.
"We have our answer then," Dafydd said.
The three of them trudged back to the hut.
Ω
The wooden benches had been rearranged so they were facing each other. The former human pack mule, Elisedd sat on one, while the other was occupied by Megan, Dafydd and Hugh. To their right, three village men sat staring into space, while Abria took her place next to her mother.
Her father stopped pacing in front their accuser.
"Elisedd, you claim these two men attacked your traveling party, killing your brother and two others from your village. Is this correct?"
"Bullshit," Megan muttered under her breath. Gronw gave her an angry glance and Dafydd squeezed her leg. Megan snapped her head around and he gave her a look, that said, 'shut up'.
"And what of the girls? My daughter tells me your intention was to abduct her and the girl sitting opposite you."
The three village men shook their heads in disgust.
"That is not true." Elisedd's voice cracked a little.
"Are you calling my daughter a liar?"
He looked nervous. "It was merely a joke. We meant no harm."
The look on Gronw's face suggested he wasn't about to burst into laughter.
"Get out of my sight. I don't expect to see you in my village again," he yelled.
Elisedd hesitated. "What about my brother? I demand justice."
"Demand?" Gronw roared. "I suggest you leave now whilst you still have your head."
Elisedd shuffled toward the door. Megan flashed him a smile as he passed. For a moment it looked like he would lunge at her but thought better of it. Megan hoped the village he came from wasn't on our way.
Gronw turned to address Dafydd. "You may leave with thanks for returning our wayward stray. Collect your weapons at the gate."
The three of them rose. Megan glanced at Abria; she looked forlorn.
She nudged Dafydd. "What about Abria?" she hissed.
"May I ask what is in your daughter's future?" Dafydd asked.
Gronw smiled. "She is once more betrothed to the great chieftain, Cynbel."
Now Megan realized why Abria looked so despondent.
"The Gods have smiled down upon us. The bride the chieftain took in lieu of our daughter died last month. With a suitable dowry, he has indicated his willingness to accept her, despite the earlier snub."
The look on her face suggested she did not share her father's assessment of the situation.
"Are we just going to leave her, Dafydd?" Megan asked.
"What else do you suggest? There is no way the four of us are walking out of here. We are lucky to be getting out ourselves, unscathed."
Megan knew he was right, but that didn't make it any easier. Abria was her friend, and she didn't want to lose her. Megan waved and Abria jumped up. Despite her mother's protestations she ran over and hugged Megan.
Before disentangling herself, she kissed Megan on the cheek and whispered in her ear.
"Come back for me."
Ω
There was a knock on the door and Osian called out, "Enter."
A soldier opened the door and walked smartly up to him.
"Ah, Decanus good. What news of the fugitives?" Osian asked.
"The guards followed the road south through the night, but there was no sign of them, sir."
"Are you sure that was the road they took?"
"Well, they were observed crossing the bridge over the river."
Osian rubbed his chin. "Is it possible they escaped via the river itself?"
"I’d say it's doubtful, but I suppose possible. I’d have to check to see if anyone has reported a stolen boat."
Osian waved a dismissive hand. "You do that, and report back to me what you discover."
The soldier gave a curt nod. "Yes, sir."
With the door closed, Osian stood and began pacing.
"Where have you gone dear half-brother?" he muttered as he walked. If the troops failed to discover which direction the fugitives had taken, he was left relying on the whore getting word to him.
CHAPTER 22 - Whatever It Takes
Megan glanced over her shoulder; the hill fort was far in the distance.
"I still can't believe we left her behind," she said.
Dafydd sighed. "We've gone over this Megan; be thankful we got out alive. Forget about Abria."
Before she could reply, Hugh said, "Without her help we would still be in the ludus, Dafydd."
Dafydd halted. "What would you have me do? March back to the village and attempt to take her by force? Just you and I, Hugh armed with a gladius each."
They had been given back their weapons at the gate, along with the mail shirts. Gronw had kept the clothing they had acquired from the men they'd killed. So, for all and intents and purposes, Dafydd and Hugh appeared to be Romans once more. It seemed Gronw found it amusing.
Dafydd set off and threw a parting shot over his shoulder. "Let me know if either of you come up with a workable plan to rescue her. In the meantime, I suggest we head toward the coast. I have no desire to wander through Ordovice territory dressed like this."
Megan glanced at the sky as she and Hugh dutifully fell in step behind Dafydd — it looked like rain. This had all the makings of a shitty day.
Ω
Despite ominous looking clouds off to the west, they had so far managed to dodge any showers. Neither Hugh nor Megan had come up with a plan to rescue Abria from the horrors of unwanted matrimony. It didn't stop them talking about it though.
"In theory, how many men do you think we'd need to get into the village by force?" Megan asked.
"A dozen maybe; depends on whether we managed to surprise the sentry at the gate," Hugh replied.
"Kinda tricky given that it's on a hill."
"If we had one or two of Prince Madog's best bowmen, it would be much easier."
Five steps ahead of them, Dafydd, who had till that point stayed out their banal and pointless discussion, stopped and turned.
"Which given that none of them will be born for about twelve hundred years is going to be difficult to arrange," he snapped.
His tone was snippy, but deep-down Megan reckoned he was as upset as her and Hugh that they’d left Abria behind.
"It would be simpler to find the dozen men. Although without money to pay them, they wouldn’t be of much use to us," Dafydd added.
While he spoke, Dafydd has his back to the road ahead. Approaching were a group of eight men, plus a donkey. They were dressed in a similar fashion to Hugh and Dafydd, except they wore shiny metal helmets. Dafydd and Hugh had left those on the rowboat. Each carried a rectangular shield that was painted red and yellow.
"Do you think we could defeat the village with eight men?" Megan asked.
"Perhaps; if they were well-armed and well-trained," Dafydd replied.
Hugh had also seen them. "Err, Dafydd, you might want to turn around."
Dafydd pivoted. "This could get interesting," he muttered. "Are you sure you want to rescue Abria?"
Megan nodded.
"And consequences be damned?"
Despite the ominous sounding nature of the question, she nodded again.
"Right, best you leave the talking to me."
She rolled her eyes. "Err, okay. If you insist."
He scowled at her. "Actually Megan, can you recall the Roman name my half-brother is using? You said when you first saw him, he was with the legate of the Deva fortress."
Megan racked her brains; it had been Caitrin who'd mentioned it, what the hell had she called him? The word Osian kept forcing its way into my head. Go away stupid name.
"Julius Caeser," she blurted out.
Dafydd gave her an incredulous look. "What?"
"What was his first name?"
"Gaius, I believe."
"Yes, that's it."
"Gaius?"
