Chapter 1: Into the Abyss.

Wave after wave battered and crashed against the wooden hull of the vessel, as if the sea demanded its submission. Three men had lost their lives, thrown overboard as they failed in their fight to hold on. The rowers strained every muscle and sinew in their bodies to keep the vessel headed in the intended direction, or, at least to stop it striking rocks and sinking. The single sail was near to useless now, torn to shreds by the storm that had pummelled the craft as soon as it left the calmer waters off the Gallic coast. The soldiers and seamen on the deck held on for their lives, grabbing anything they could to stop them falling overboard. 

Aurelius, the Roman Centurion who had chartered the craft, made his way the best he could to the boat’s master, slipping his way along the ship’s deck as it frothed and foamed with sea water. The master stood at the at the fore of the small vessel, trying to make out any hidden dangers in front of them, but the squall they were in made visibility almost impossible as curtains of thick, icy cold rain lashed down. Aurelius grabbed his shoulder, more for something to hold onto than to gain his attention.

‘See anything?’  He shouted.

The master had to keep wiping the rain from his face so he could see and did so again before he shook his head.

‘Nothing. If I knew where we were I’d feel safer but I fear the storm blew us off course!’

Aurelius looked out, pushing away sodden locks of brown hair that matched the colour of his eyes from his face as he searched in vain for rocky outcrops amidst the white peaks and dark, deep troughs of the sea.

Blinded by the salt water and cold rain, Aurelius found it impossible to see for more than a few seconds before he had to blink the water away. Luckily the master had keener vision, honed by years at sea. Amongst the thrashing waves he saw rocks jutting out of the water, like jagged black teeth.

‘Heave right! Heave right!’ he shouted for all he was worth and looked behind to make sure he had been heard.

The helmsman didn’t react, he couldn’t hear anything other than the sea crashing against the ship and waves falling back onto themselves self destructively. Aurelius watched the helmsman, hoping to the Gods he could hear as the master repeated his order, fighting to be heard over the mighty din.

‘Heave right!!!’

It was no good, the helmsman had not heard him. Aurelius could see the rocks now, and they were almost on top of them. He gave all he got as he sprinted across the deck, he had to reach the helm before they hit the rocks otherwise they would all be dead. The deck bucked beneath his feet as another wave pummelled the stricken vessel, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet  as the ship tilted on its keel, throwing more unlucky men screaming over the side into the icy depths.

He grabbed a rope that ran along the side of the craft towards the stern and heaved his way towards the helmsman, all the while yelling. ‘Rocks! Hard right! Hard to the right!’

The helmsman still couldn’t hear and was struggling to hold on to the helm, battling with both arms just to keep a grip on the long oak beam.. Aurelius reached the helm and dived straight for it as if he was tackling a bear. He pulled it in to his body while the helmsman pushed towards him, realising straight away what needed to be done. The helm didn’t react immediately as the two men fought with it, and it looked as though the ship was done for. The master watched as the rocks loomed ahead, not bothering to shout anymore as he knew it would do no good. He had seen Aurelius’ mad dash for the helm, and silently commended his bravery, but thought it would all be nothing. Then, almost imperceptibly the vessel changed direction. The rocks were still a threat but there was still a chance .

The master shouted encouragement to the helm. ‘More! More Damn you!’

This time they seemed to hear him, and with one last effort managed to squeeze more from the helm, almost snapping the steering beam as the rudder fought against them.

The master held onto thick knotted rope as he looked over the side, he could almost touch the rocks now as they passed by and he held his breath as the wooden hull scraped along the unforgiving black reef. He cursed himself for taking on this charter and swore he would sell his boat if he made it back to Gaul. Then they were safe, at least for now as the outcrop vanished in their wake. He looked forward again, there could be more dangers ahead, but for now the storm seemed to be abating.

Aurelius eased off the helm, his shoulders had screamed with agony as he wrestled against the sea and all his upper body ached. He knew he couldn’t have held on much longer before his strength gave way.  The helmsman seemed unaffected by it and continued as if this was a regular occurrence. These Gauls are made of stern stuff. Aurelius had not fought them personally but had heard stories from comrades about them, and hoped he never got the chance to experience first-hand what he had heard. The storm abated just as quick as it started, and the sea became calmer as the full moon dominated the sky, casting a silvery glow over the water as the storm clouds peeled back.  The master thanked the gods, maybe he wouldn’t sell his boat, after all.

He had a clear view all around now and could see no reefs or jagged rocks to smash his ship against. All he needed now was a place suitable for getting his vessel in close enough, then disembark his ‘cargo’ of men. He looked aft and caught Aurelius’ attention with a sharp whistle and beckoned him over.

The ship’s master wasted no time with small talk. ‘Get your men ready, as soon as you get off my boat we’ll be heading back to Gaul, before another storm hits us.’

Aurelius had no objection to the masters abruptness. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can, just get us in close enough so we don’t have to swim.’

The master nodded as Aurelius headed back to find his men, and to find out how many he had lost to the storm. He hailed his second in command.  ‘Caius! Caius!’

He didn’t get a response and immediately assumed the worst, that Caius had gone overboard, when he heard someone retching and vomiting. He could clearly see in the moon-light now and saw a figure almost hanging over the side of the boat, puking his stomach contents into the sea. The man cursed between each bout and Aurelius recognised him by his choice of words.

‘Not got your sea legs then Caius?’

Caius didn’t bother to look up and puked again, raising his middle finger in Aurelius’ direction as a reply. Aurelius laughed at the gesture and patted him on the back.

‘We’ll be on dry land soon enough. We need to get our men together, if there are any left.’

The vessel broke through the tranquil water with ease now and seemed to glide over the tops of the waves as the curved bow cut its way through the water. The master knew that they would not make it to Gaul again before day break, and so decided to give his rowers respite, they deserved it after that hell they just rowed through. The moon had lit up the night, enabling him to see further, and he had seen an estuary that might be promising in the distance, somewhere the boat could safely harbour while his men rested, also giving him chance to inspect his boat for any damage.

The helmsman expertly steered into the estuary while the rowers hauled away against the flow of the tide. As soon as they were in the shallows a sailor jumped over with a rope to tether the craft to one of the many boulders strewn along the estuary. The water was chest deep and the sailor swam until he was knee deep, dragging the wrist-thick cordage behind him. He rose sodden and freezing out of the water and soggily clambered over the smaller rocks to a suitably sized boulder, then proceeded to tie a big loop around it. He waited for a signal from his mate on the vessel to tell him it was tied off that end. As soon as he decided it was secure and wouldn’t come undone, he swung back arm over arm to the boat, where his mates helped him aboard.

Once the ships master decided the boat was safely tethered, he called Aurelius. ‘This is where we part company, we’ll be here till tomorrow night if you want to go back, if not…’ The master held his palm out and commented sarcastically. ‘…It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’

Aurelius pressed a bag of gold coins in his palm and thanked him, returning the sentiment. ‘Next time I want to hire a boat…’

He left the remark hanging and shouted to Caius. ‘Get the men together and our kit, whatever’s left. We disembark as soon as everyone’s ready!’

Caius heard Aurelius’ command from across the deck of the craft and nodded, laughing under his breath. ‘Kit? It’s all bloody gone! What kit!’

The storm had washed away most of their gear, including clothing and extra weapons, and only two more out of the original party of eight Romans had survived the journey over the channel.  

Aurelius was the first ashore, and scanned his surroundings while the others followed him, using the tethered rope to get ashore without getting too wet.

‘Where’s our guide?’ Aurelius counted his men but couldn’t see the guide who was supposed to lead them inland.

‘Went the same way as the others…’ Caius confirmed.

At least I still have my memory… Aurelius had memorised what the guide had told him before they left Gaul. Instructions on how to find the first lead, a crucial first link in the chain. As luck, or fate would have it he knew they weren’t too far from the start point that the guide had described. He had also seen the map and there weren’t that many rivers in the area. Fate seemed to be with them so far.

He uttered his first command of the mission, ‘We go North!’ and the others silently nodded, picking up whatever they had left to carry and fell in single file behind him, resembling peasants more than the Roman Centurions they were. Dark coarse woollen cloaks covered their plain attire but they still had their short swords, hidden away for now, plus their daggers and whatever food they had.

Silently following the river inland, they trudged deeper into a land strange to them, full of mystery and dangers unknown. The only sound they made was the odd curse under the breath as they put a foot wrong or slid on wet rocks as they waded through the river. Winter had not fully set in yet although the night air was chilly, and the sky was clear and full of stars, some outshone by the moon but revealing themselves as it traversed across the sky. The constellations reminded the commander, Aurelius, of home. I hope the Gods will be with us on this journey, as the stars are, He silently wished. Neither He nor his comrades saw the hooded figures hiding in the trees observing them, or their breath, fleetingly visible like a ghostly veil in the chill night air.

                                                                                                               ***

As dawn broke over gently rolling hills shrouded with frosty morning dew, they made camp in a small copse away from the riverbank.

‘We rest here until nightfall, then move further inland.’ Aurelius decided, hoping to get his bearings and relative position against the map he held in his mind.

They made makeshift camp and set about their duties, Caius and his counterpart Justus were on guard duty and assumed positions that gave them the best chance of spotting anyone, while making themselves as hidden from view as possible to anyone who might be looking.

All the men in the group were of the same rank from the legions, but for reasons of decision-making, Aurelius was appointed patrol commander by virtue of service record, having more overseas campaigns under his belt.

‘Aetius, what delights do you have in that magic bag of scoff? I’m hungry and could eat my sandals.’

Aetius had took it upon himself to be in  charge of supplies for the initial part of the patrol.

‘No need for that Aurelius, we have bread, olives, ham, or even some cheese. What more could a soldier on a dangerous mission overseas ask for?’

‘Fine wine and even finer women, for a start, but I’ll settle for cheese and bread for now, until we see what this cold, bear’s arse of an island has to offer.’

The banter continued a while as they ate and drifted off as their bellies filled, then slept until their turn on watch, confident in their fellow soldiers to keep watch.

Halfway through the day it had started to rain. Justus shook Aurelius by his shoulder with one hand while he fed himself olives with the other. Aurelius was dreaming of his home, on the shores of lake Como. It didn’t take him long to stir, and as he sat up, he covered his shoulders with his cape.

‘I think I’m going to hate this place.’ Aurelius shivered and yawned, then drank wine from a leather flask Justus had passed to him.

‘How was the first watch Justus?’ he enquired,

‘I agree, give me Aegyptus any time…’ Justus answered through one side of his mouth, still chewing with the other.

‘...however, nothing happening as far as I can tell...’

Justus’ thoughts had wandered to another place and time, momentarily haunted by a not-so-distant memory.

‘Well you get some sleep…’ Aurelius interrupted his thoughts, ‘…. We have another long march ahead of us tonight, and you need your beauty sleep!’

Justus said something about Aurelius’ mother and drew his woollen cape over himself. Aurelius just laughed and went to piss up the nearest tree away from where they were sleeping.

The rain showed no sign of letting up as the afternoon drew on, so Aetius found shelter underneath a tree, always staying vigilant, listening, and watching for any movement or noise out of the ordinary. This place reminded him of Gaul in some way, but there was something about this land that made him uneasy, maybe it was because there was only four of them here and no legions to back them up, and this was like no campaign he had ever been on, no uniforms just warm winter clothing, his short sword plus a small dagger and a few weeks supplies at best. The briefing had been vague, Only Aurelius, who had sworn secrecy until the first part of this mission- which was to penetrate inland undetected was carried out successfully- was aware of the orders, given to him personally by Caesar. All he knew was they were on their own and did not know when they would be returning home.

Aurelius trod carefully through the undergrowth, placing his feet down slowly, the outer side of his foot first, then allowing the rest of the foot to gently follow, pushing aside thorny branches with his sword, feeling each step underfoot through thin leather soles, aware of any small twigs or anything that could snap or make a sudden noise. The rain had stopped now and after a few minutes of relative silence he had heard a faint rustle coming from a thicket of bushes just outside the tree line. It could be anything, a rabbit, a fox, even a wolf, but he needed to investigate. Creeping through the brush the sleeve of his tunic snagged on a thorn, pulling a thread of Brown linen. Instead of pulling at it he gently untangled himself and slowly eased the thorny branch back to its natural place, holding it between thumb and forefinger, not letting it go fast and causing unnecessary movement and noise. He stood a moment and listened for any noises out of the ordinary, moving his head slowly looking for signs in the trail below his feet, dirt muddied by the rain, which made it easier to spot any spoor signs. After a few moments pause and not hearing anything, he was satisfied that they weren’t being watched and turned back the way he came, when something caught his eye.

The same small thorny branch that he had been snagged upon had also caught something else that looked like a small black feather at first glance, Aurelius slowly unpicked it from the spikes and examined it closer. On further inspection he determined that it was no feather but a thread of linen like his own, a darker colour than his and a little coarser but, it was not a feather. He glanced down at his feet on the muddy earth and saw that his footprint was overlapping another faint, barely visible footprint, smaller than his. The tracks continued a few feet until the dirt turned to grass and he followed the track with his eyes, where the spoor ended, then something caught his eye. Swinging gently off a small branch no higher than his shoulders, a amulet dangled. Hackles raised on the back of his neck and all his senses fired. They weren’t alone. Whoever the amulet belonged to was still close by, and it still swayed, hanging by a throng of leather.

It was too quiet. He stood still and calmed his breathing down until even he could not hear it. His ears strained for any sound that might give away a movement, or someone ‘s position. He could feel his heart beat strongly in his chest, slightly faster as adrenalin began pumping through his veins. Not even the birds sang right now, and the air was very still. This is very strange. Aurelius mumbled to himself, before reaching for the amulet slowly and lifting it from the branch. He held it in the palm of his hand while examining it. A thin strip of leather had been wrapped around what appeared to be a small figurine of a pregnant woman, carved out of wood. The detail was hard to make out, but her legs were open as if about to give birth, and her breasts were exaggerated. He could not ever remember seeing a woman with breasts that big.

He made his way deliberately over to Aetius and passed him the sliver of materiel.

‘Are they still around?’ Aetius asked after examining the piece of cloth.

’Not far, there are fresh prints on a trail where I found this,’ Aurelius continued in a low voice, ‘However, if we are being watched they now know we are aware, and will have put distance between us, expecting us to conduct a search. Whoever they are they are good, a bit sloppy though, unless they wanted to be seen…there was also this…’

He handed Aetius the amulet. Aetius rolled it around in his hands, scrutinizing the carved-out form.

‘I’ve seen something like this before, in the forests of Gaul and Germania,’

‘Go on…,’ Aurelius patiently urged.

‘Justus is the man to ask, I’ll pass it to him’. Aetius glanced around, expecting to catch a glimpse of their watcher.

‘How long have they…?’ he thought aloud, ‘…When we first landed?’

 

 

Aurelius could only venture a guess.

‘None of us noticed anything , we should assume that we have been watched from the beginning now, but it doesn’t change anything.’

Aetius Agreed. ‘We should move off again soon, the night is coming, let’s get ahead, we can move faster now if we move from the riverbanks out into the open ground.’

Aurelius nodded. ‘I’ll wake the others, we’ll eat then move out as soon as its dark’.

                                                                                                               ***

The warriors set off as dark fell. Thick, black clouds ominously filled the sky, threatening to bring down freezing rain onto their heads any time now. Fed and renewed, they marched on with quiet determination, sticking to natural boundaries on the land and tree lines, taking care not to expose themselves, only stopping briefly to ascertain whether they were being followed. Aurelius was troubled by the earlier encounter and the amulet. It may have made the mission more dangerous, or it may not have changed anything. But he had a feeling the amulet, and whoever was watching them, were all connected to the reason they were here.

Day broke and they stopped to rest for the duration in a dried up river bed, surrounded either side by high mud banks and with a clear line of sight along the river itself, this made an almost perfect place for them to rest. Satisfied they had made good distance in the night Aurelius gathered everyone around and they all ate heartily whilst sitting atop small boulders, passing around cheese, bread & wine and other provisions.

 ‘So…’ Aurelius began, ‘You all know, partly, why we are here…’

Everyone grunted in agreement.

Aurelius continued. ‘Our task here, by order of General Julius Caesar himself, is to find out what resistance a possible invasion force would meet, who rules where and if we can, buy their allegiance.’

Caius was the first to ask… ‘You suggested that we were here for something else also, and as you haven’t told us yet I have a feeling we won’t like it.’

Aurelius continued. ‘I was given a letter just before we sailed from Gaul, a messenger from Rome passed it to me in the whore house, you lot were too busy to notice.’

Justus observed, ‘I wasn’t that busy to notice that you had got ‘waylaid’ too you old dog!’

 ‘Every man has to drink.’

 Aurelius defended himself while everyone laughed and agreed.

‘I’ll continue…I was passed a message, which by the way cost me a jug of beer in way of a tip, so you all owe me a jug, call it inflation!’

Everyone laughed again and in no uncertain terms gave Aurelius the direction he should take.

‘Get on with it then.’ Caius was impatient to know what the message was.

‘The message was from a senator, who shall remain unknown to you all at this time, but this mission, the scouting element, was supposed to be clandestine by its very nature, and I assumed that Caesar was architect and builder.’

‘The senate has a very long reach, with ears and eyes everywhere…’ Aetius was no stranger to the inner workings of Rome, and was aware, as they all were, of its power.

‘This particular Senator has a daughter,’ Aurelius continued, ‘who was last seen in Gaul, with the Senator and her mother. But it seems she has gone missing, assumed kidnapped but no ransom has been demanded.’

Aetius was puzzled, ‘what does this have to do with us?’

‘I don’t think we’re being told the full story.’ Justus was getting suspicious. ‘It’s no coincidence that we get handpicked for a scouting assignment and at the last moment, a senator no less, who isn’t supposed to know about our tasking…’

Caius interrupted. ‘The whole senate probably knows now, indeed all of Rome by the way your shouting!’

Justus ignored the jibe and carried on, ‘… is not supposed to know of us, hands us new orders!’ Ending his rant Justus couldn’t help himself. ‘This whole job smells as fishy as that thing between your woman’s legs Caius!’

The rising tension in the group was released with that last remark, so Aurelius continued.

‘From what little I was told we’re not the only ones to have been given this assignment. And from what little intelligence has been passed on,  we know the senator’s daughter is here, how or why is still unknown… as yet.’

‘How do we know where to look?’, Caius enquired, seemingly becoming the unofficial spokesman.

‘If you stopped interrupting …’. Aurelius’ patience was starting to wear thin. ‘…After this halt, when it turns dark, we need to find someone…’

‘Where? Who?’ Caius again.

Aurelius carried on, feigning obliviousness to Caius’ interruptions. ‘It was no coincidence that we followed this river inland. If we keep following the river we will reach a forge.’

Aurelius gestured northwards along the river bed. ‘The last message received by the senator was sent from there.’

Silence hung in the air like a bad smell briefly before Justus broke it. ‘So you’re saying that there’s more Romans…’

‘Looks like it…’ Aurelius nodded.

‘And they have been here, on the same tasking we’re on?’

Aurelius shrugged, not truthfully knowing the answer. They all fell into silence as they ate, and no one spoke until Aetius broke the silence.

‘I almost forgot…’ He reached into his belt pouch where he had earlier secreted the amulet that Aurelius had given to him and passed it to Justus.

‘Here, what do you make of this?’ Justus held it up and turned it around, taking in the detail.

‘Hmmm, just a local trinket, probably worth nothing but I’ll keep hold of it.’ He placed it in his pouch while Aurelius looked at Aetius questioningly.

Aetius just shrugged. ‘He’s the expert…’

                                                                                                               ***

As night approached, a shadowy, hooded figure approached a small settlement, nestled in a small covert, not too obvious to passers-by but easy to find by anyone who knew of its existence. The figure made its way to the furthest dwelling, a sturdy construction built from wood and dried mud, and, pulling back a heavy wool curtain, slipped inside. looking over its shoulder to ensure it wasn’t being followed. Inside the heat from a small fire was instantly welcoming, while it gave off just enough light to reveal the occupants, two haggard old women, sisters, twins almost.

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Unwashed and plain looking with matted black hair run through with grey streaks which hung down past their shoulders, their aging blue eyes smarted from the smoke from the fire smoke, making them shimmer in the low light. The deep-set wrinkles around their eyes made them look a hundred years old. Dressed similarly, they both held grey woollen shawls together at the top of the neck, trying to stay warm despite the heat from the fire as another winter set in. Their other hand was held up against the fire, and both would occasionally pull up a goatskin that was draped over their laps which, from time to time would slip down.

The sisters strained in the poor light to make out the stranger, who was lowering the hood of its cloak, revealing a tattooed, craggy face of an old man, who looked just as old as the sisters. Bright blue eyes containing a wisdom that spanned the ages reflected the fire light and his beard hung down to his chest, tied up thinly in small ringlets. He stood silently, looking both sisters in the eye, waiting for one of them to speak.

He couldn’t hold his tongue anymore and pointed to a steaming black pot that hung over the fire.

‘Is there any left? I’ve not eaten in nearly a week!’

Although he spoke the same language his accent was different to the people of this land, and only a few people, the sisters included, knew his origins.

‘We’ve been keeping it warm just for you, Bedwyr.’ One of the sisters, Echrad, croaked and gestured towards the pot, while Elbrig, her sister, smiled a toothless grin and passed her a wooden bowl.

Bedwyr lowered himself to the floor and crossed his legs as he sat on a warm, shaggy rug. His mouth watered as he watched Echrad fill the bowl, ladling thick, gloopy broth full of generous chunks of meat, fat and other unidentifiable tid-bits. He took the wooden spoon that Elbrig, still smiling, offered to him and tucked into his meal with gusto, spilling the hot liquid down his beard as he filled his mouth with the Broth as quick as he could, not seeming to mind the scalding soup.

As he ate, the sisters whispered and pointed to each other in muted argument, until one of them lost. The loser had to ask Bedwyr a question. He did not like to be interrupted while eating.

‘Where is Faeryn Bedwyr?’ Echrad asked, warily.

Bedwyr looked up from his bowl and stopped chewing on a morsel of fatty gristle he had found. He gave Echrad a look that could stop a man dead in his tracks, and continued eating, slurping from the wooden spoon and chewing on anything that entered his mouth. The elderly sisters muttered and mumbled between themselves again, elbowing and prodding each other. Echrad it seemed, was the younger of the sisters, as she, yet again, had lost the argument. She coughed loudly, clearing her lungs of phlegm. Bedwyr looked up at her wearily, resigning himself to her questioning.

‘There are more men, aren’t there?’

He did not answer, and Echrad felt emboldened now, the look on his face allowing her in.

‘Where is Faeryn, Bedwyr?’

He gently placed the bowl down, empty now except for scraps of unpalatable gristle that he had spat back in. Considering the wooden spoon with great concentration for a moment, Bedwyr looked at Echrad, almost warmly. His belly was full, and he had to admit to himself it was a fine broth, but then, it always was.

‘Four. Faeryn shadows them, with luck they will lead her to the others, wherever they are hiding.’

Elbrig nodded.

‘She will not approach, will she?’ Echrad turned to her sister then looked back at Bedwyr, with a pleading look in her eye.

‘You know she is but a young woman. May the Goddess protect her if the Romans caught her…’

 

 

 

Echrad inspected the pot that hug over the smoking fire. It was empty now apart from the bones they had used to make the broth. She tipped the bones onto the floor and scooped them up before they had chance to cool. Her hands were hard and calloused from years of hardship, so she barely felt any burning from the bones. She then proceeded to shake them in her cupped hands then tossed them on to the floor, where they fell with a clatter. Elbrig and Echrad then knelt over and inspected the bones, clucking and tutting at images only they could make out. Bedwyr leant over to try and see what they were looking at but the sisters shooed him away, hissing through black, broken teeth. He got the message and patiently waited for them to finish their divinations.

Elbrig shoved a bone gently with a crooked finger and whispered something. Echrad strongly disagreed. ‘No, No, No!’ And scooped the bones up again, holding them up to the heavens then dropping them down. This time they scattered further out. Elbrig went to read the bones and let out an anguished cry. Bedwyr couldn’t help himself.

‘By the Gods what is it?’

Echrad double checked the bones and looked up, meeting Bedwyr’s inquisitive stare.

‘I cannot see Faeryn.’ She grimly informed him.

‘Is she dead?’ He demanded.

‘Not dead…’ Elbrig croaked, ‘…at least, not yet. But I see death…’

                                                                                                                      ***

 

Faeryn was like a daughter to the sisters, they had found her in a village that had been attacked by marauders, with all of its occupants dead or taken. Faeryn had managed to hide from the bandits by crawling amongst bullrushes in a nearby pond. She stayed quiet but tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched everyone she knew being killed gruesomely or suffering even more horribly. Some of the attackers did things to the women, her mother included, that she did not understand, hurting them and making them scream in agony, before killing them, sometimes slowly.

Then they were gone. Blood stained the dirt while limbs and other body parts lay scattered. Faeryn tried to avoid stepping on the remains as she walked gingerly through the village, looking for survivors, but too much blood had been spilled, and it was impossible to stay out of. She could feel and hear the squelching underfoot as she stepped through, trying to block out the horror in front of her. She heard a murmur coming from a mangled, bloody corpse as it seemed to raise its hand.

‘Help…me…’ it pleaded.

Faeryn did not move, already in shock by what she had seen, but now, the dead coming to life?

It pleaded again. ‘Faeryn, help… me….!’

She recognised the voice, through the pain and blood she recognised her own mother’s voice. Impossible! She still lived, the goddess looked down on her today, so it seemed.

Faeryn kneeled down, lowering her head closer so she could hear her mother’s strained voice. She dared not look at her injuries, her flayed body almost unrecognisable.

‘Mother, mother…’

Her mother raised her hand, silencing her. ‘Faeryn….’

She struggled to talk and breath, her life energy falling away from her rapidly.

‘Take me to the pool…’

Faeryn followed her mother’s hand as it motioned towards the pool that she had been hiding in during the slaughter. She felt guilty now. She cowered and watched while everyone else, all her family and friends were killed while she hid in the bullrushes.

‘You….must….get me…to the water…my child…I beg you…’

Faeryn warily grabbed her hand, trying not to cause her mother anymore pain. She cried as she struggled to lift her, angry at herself for being so weak. Faeryn closed her eyes and tried again, straining and heaving with all her might, calling on every muscle in her body. It worked! Faeryn felt her mother raising up and she opened her eyes. Immediately she saw a familiar face. One of the older children, Birge, had the weight of her mother on his shoulders. Faeryn felt the weight of more guilt now. Birge was a cripple, one leg was shorter than the other, which made him a target of ridicule amongst the children and some adults. How has he survived? She wondered.

He was a couple of years older than Faeryn, and a lot stronger. She had never looked at him closely until now, and she noticed his eyes were the colour of leaves in Autumn. He had strong, handsome features, someone to rely on. Pulling herself together she asked him to help her.

‘Will you help me get her to the pool?’

He nodded and they carried her to the pool, gently lowering herm onto the shallow embankment that led into the water. Faeryn had known, indeed all the village knew, that the pool held magical properties, and possessed the power, it was said, to give eternal life. The blood seeped from her mother’s body, staining the pure, clear water muddy red, and she closed her eyes as if now she could finally rest.

Faeryn watched and subconsciously grabbed Birge’s hand, needing comfort and someone to draw strength from. The life seemed to ebb away from her mother and she looked paler and paler as her blood drained from her broken body into the pool. She opened her eyes and looked at Faeryn, reaching out for her, almost with a look of ecstasy on her face.

‘It’s too late, daughter, my earthly body cannot be saved…you must have….this…’

Her mother passed her a wooden amulet, a carving of Gaia, the earth goddess. Faeryn clasped her hand over the amulet and her mother’s hand as her mother tried to finish what she needed to say.

‘I…will always be here…my daughter.’

She closed her eyes again and smiled gently as her body sank beneath the surface and disappeared into the murky red water. Tears streamed down Faeryn’s cheeks as she wept, still holding her mother’s hand. Birge reached out and wrapped his arm around her and she cried into his chest, still clutching the amulet.

                                                                                                              ***

The sound of soft wind gently whispering through the tall grass comforted her. Faeryn almost felt one with the earth as the faded brown stems swayed in the breeze. The colour of her mantle matched her surroundings and she knew she could not be seen as she watched the Romans, but still she stayed motionless, any movement would be hardly perceptible, unless she herself was being watched. Faeryn paid close attention to the one doing the most talking, and recognised him as the leader, also the one who had found her amulet. She cursed herself for losing it, but knew it was her own carelessness. In trying to get too close to them she almost gave herself away and had to dive into the undergrowth to hide as the Roman approached. Her fingers mindlessly fumbled for the missing amulet as she pictured the Roman finding it in the bushes. She had to get it back.

Then by a stroke of luck she saw one of them holding it up! She was so close she could almost feel it in her hands. Faeryn knew that she could sneak up to them and easily kill them, one by one. This thought gave her pleasure as she had been taught that they were her enemy, but she could not kill them now, she had to follow them and Bedwyr made it clear that she Was not to be seen. Faeryn still hadn’t moved when the soldiers changed their routines around. The leader had been on guard first and she watched him intently as he sat on the river bank,  Now she was getting hungry and the noises in her stomach threatened to give her away. Faeryn reached underneath her cloak for a pouch where she kept morsels of food and pulled out a small handful of juicy red berries that she had foraged earlier. It wasn’t much but it would keep her going.

                                                                                                                   ***

Aetius and Aurelius sat quietly, it was their turn to eat and sleep now before they moved on at nightfall. Aurelius was deep in thought as he chewed his dried meat.

‘Do you think we are being followed?’ Aetius asked.

‘Don’t you?’ Aurelius replied, as if it were a given.

They ate silently a little longer then Aurelius spoke.

‘I haven’t seen any sign of us being followed, as none of us have, otherwise it would have been reported…’ He continued. ‘But I have a feeling in my gut…we’re being watched.’

Aetius agreed. ‘Yes, they are close. I’ve felt eyes burning on my back all day. I put it down to my own paranoia, but this land, this place…’

Aurelius grunted, acknowledging the shared, uneasy feeling.

The four soldiers were practiced in the art of stealth, and almost without a sound they packed any kit they had and set off, automatically following Aurelius. Thick clouds hung in the night sky, masking any stars that tried to shine through. Aurelius was using the twists and bends of the river to navigate, but they could not travel as fast as they could have if there was a full moon. Aetius hung back for a moment and looked around, he still had the feeling they were being watched. Unable to see anything in the dark he shrugged his shoulders and moved off, falling in line behind the others.

As Faeryn suspected, the Romans were preparing to head off again. So predictable. She watched them pack up and set off again, following the dried up river inland. Using the river to guide them was not unusual in itself, but they had stuck to it like a fly to rotting fruit. She would have no problem tracking them and catching up, but she had an idea. If she was right, and they were going where she thought they were going, then she could beat them to it. If they kept to the river then they would easily be there by the morning. But Faeryn knew a different way which would get her there quicker, and if she was wrong, she would have to explain to Bedwyr how she had lost them.

                                                                                                                   ***

 

 

Whisps of smoke rose above the tree line, fading into the dull grey clouds that hung low just above the tree tops. The night was waning but the morning would be a dreary one, the blacksmith accepted as he stoked the furnace, ready for another days work. He awoke before dawn, as he did every day, and left his home for the forest to find his breakfast. It was cold and dew already soaked his thick grey woollen tunic, but he warmed up as he moved, searching for the traps he had set up the evening before. The first two traps he examined brought up nothing, but thankfully the last one he set up had snared a rabbit, enough food for one day. He knelt down to remove it from the cordage it’s neck was caught in and slackened the noose. The rabbit was dead but still warm, sometimes foxes would beat him to his catch, but not today. He hung the carcass off his belt and returned to his home, where the fire would be burning away nicely, ready to cook the rabbit on.

He knew the forest like he knew the back of his hand. Every day he would walk up and down the same gentle slopes, watching how the woodland changes through the seasons and forming an understanding of all the creatures and plants that shared this space with him. He had lived here alone ever since giving up his former life as a Roman soldier and was happy to spend the rest of his days doing just this. He would guard his way of life fiercely though, and had killed to protect his anonymity, and would do so again. He had already sensed something was out of place as he returned home. He knew his forge, with its high thatch roof and brown, dried mud walls interlaced with branches and twigs, and knew what was outside, leaning against the walls, whether it was an axe or an old spear, or something he was forging. This morning, as he approached, he saw something crouched down outside his doorway, and it wasn’t an animal. Instinctively his right hand drew back and grabbed the pommel of his short sword, one of a few objects from his previous life he hung on to.

He drew his sword, demanding that the unexpected visitor made themselves known.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’

The reply threw him off guard yet he had been expecting this moment since he had gone into hiding, he knew he could not hide forever.

‘I’ll tell you who I am, but not until you cook me some of that rabbit, comrade.’

Aurelius stood up and lowered the hood on his cloak, smiling and trying to be friendly but with his hand on his sword, expecting to be attacked at any moment. The blacksmith, taken suddenly aback by the appearance of this man, stood momentarily dazed, not knowing what to do or say. Yet he had been expecting him, or someone else like him. Without speaking he looked at the rabbit and tossed it to Aurelius.

‘Prepare it, and ‘ill cook it!’

Aurelius tossed the bones into the fire as he stripped all the meat off. They sat in silence while they ate, and only when they had finished eating Aurelius broke the silence.

‘So, you know why I’m here…why don’t you tell me your name…’

The Blacksmith chewed on his rabbit, contemplating whether to answer him or not.

‘Thalius. You?’

‘Aurelius, of the…’

Thalius stopped him in his tracks. ‘I don’t want to know what legion, what Cohort, im done with that crap!’

Aurelius was taken aback by his sudden brashness. ‘Thalius i…’

‘I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck about any of this! I’ll tell you what you need to know then piss off and leave me alone!’ He prodded Aurelius in the chest, emphasising his point.

Aurelius took a deep breath and asked calmly, ‘Who got to you?’

Thalius snorted derisively. ‘This whole damn fucking country, it’ll eat you alive. Where do you think the rest of my patrol is? You should leave, go back to Rome, anywhere.’

He gazed at the piece of meat and bone he was holding, then deciding he had lost his appetite, threw it onto the red-hot coals of his forge. ‘If you survive, if you make it out…if you’re not driven crazy by what you find here, you’re a better man than me friend.’

Sensing a change in the Blacksmith’s mood, Aurelius delved deeper. ‘Whatever you can tell us that will help, that will enable us to return to Rome, to our families, I will be forever in your debt, friend.’

He stretched his arm out with his hand open to grasp the blacksmith’s forearm as he returned the gesture.

‘Why don’t you come with us?’

By the look on Thalius’ face Aurelius thought he would, then, in a split second a perplexed look crossed his face.

‘Were you followed? Did you ensure that you weren’t followed?’

Not giving Aurelius time to answer, he answered for him. ‘Always assume you are being followed!’

He raised his hands in the air, placing them on his head and began pacing frantically backwards and forwards across the floor, angrily kicking out at anything that was within kicking distance.

‘I’m fucked! I’m dead! You don’t know what they’ll do… ‘

Aurelius stayed calm and watched as the blacksmith started sobbing. ‘Pull yourself together, Thalius, you are a still a Roman Centurion of the Legions of the Roman Empire!’

The blacksmith calmed down and began to see reason. ‘I’ll help you. I’ll take you to where we lost the scent, then you’re on your own.’

Aurelius thanked him, secretly hoping that if the blacksmith was willing to help this far then maybe he could be persuaded to stay with them. He sensed that his fellow roman needed his help, or some assistance of some kind. Who could blame him, this far from his own land.

‘There is a port, two days hard marching from here. I was lucky to get away from there alive. Something about the place…’ Thalius muttered as he threw all his worldly belongings together. ‘I’ll take you there then I’m gone. I’m going back to Rome, although I’ll be no safer there than here!’

Aurelius helped him, passing over some tools that Thalius pointed at, clicking his fingers impatiently. ‘I’m  grateful for your help, but we could use you, your knowledge…’

‘If I stay…’ the blacksmith pointed irately towards Aurelius, ‘I’m dead. If you listen to one thing I say, then don’t stay too long in the port, or you’ll be dead. I want no more blood on my hands!’

Aurelius raised both hands in defeat. ‘Have it your way, Centurion. But I have no choice. You do. With you we’ll number five centurions, in my book, that gives us good odds.’

 

Still packing manically, thrusting anything small he could lay his hands on into his pack, the blacksmith was almost at his wits end, and losing his patience with Aurelius. He grabbed him by the front of his tunic, wrapping his scarred, ironlike fingers around the coarse cloth.

‘The port, then no further!’ He cautioned through gritted teeth. ‘Push me once more then I leave without you!’

Aurelius knew he had gone too far now, and backed off, raising his hands up in surrender, again. ‘Your choice, friend. Your choice.’

                                                                                                                  ***

Faeryn pursed her lips in frustration as she watched from the edge of the wood. She thought she had beaten the Romans to the blacksmith, whom she had suspected for some time to be a Roman soldier, the last of another small group of scouts who had penetrated inland, spies who deserved to die a painful death, which the others had done. That thought gave her small pleasure and a brief shiver ran down her spine as images of the other Roman’s last moments entered her thoughts. She got there first, or thought she had. The leader had left the others behind, moving faster and quieter alone, and  had arrived moments after her. As she watched them talking she angrily held onto the deer antler handle of her dagger, squeezing so hard her knuckles turned white. But now she had an advantage, she heard the blacksmith mention the port. Faeryn knew that’s where they would go next, and that’s where they would all die.

 

 

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