Roman - The Fall of Britannia (36 page)

The fisherman
swallowed nervously.

‘
Understood!’ he said.

‘
Midnight tomorrow,’ confirmed Gwydion.

‘
I
will be here,’ said the fisherman, ‘but will lay off shore. If you
are successful, light a flame and I will come in to get you. I will
wait no longer than sunrise.’

Gwydion
unfastened the Torc and gave it to the fisherman.

‘
Until tomorrow,’ he said.

The fisherman
climbed back into his boat as the two men ran toward the nearby
tree line.

----

Prydain was
still weakened from his imprisonment, and he struggled to keep up.
He stopped to catch his breath, leaning against a tree.

‘
Are
you all right?’ asked Gwydion.

‘
Just need a minute,’ answered Prydain.

Gwydion removed
a leather water flask from beneath his tunic and offered it to the
Roman.

‘
We
have to push on,’ he said, ‘the solstice is in a few hours and the
Druids like to conduct their grisly business at the rising of the
sun.’

‘
What do you intend to do when we get there?’ asked
Prydain.

‘
I
don’t know,’ answered Gwydion, ‘but I haven’t ridden two hundred
miles to give up now. Are you ready?’

Prydain nodded
and forced himself away from the tree trunk. They started to run
again, following the stream inland. Suddenly, Gwydion stopped dead
in his tracks, causing Prydain to walk into him.’

‘
Shhh,’ he said, holding up his hand and they both fell
silent, listening to the ethereal drumming that echoed faintly
through the forest. ‘Must be getting near,’ said Gwydion and they
continued at a slower pace.

To their front,
the darkened sky was glowing from unseen fires and the two men
slowed their pace even more. Eventually they peered through the
forest edge and saw a ring of braziers around a stone circle. Rows
of robed men and women chanted strange incantations and a drum beat
permeated the air as more robed people filed into the clearing,
each carrying a flaming torch.

‘
This must be it,’ whispered Gwydion. ‘But where is
Gwenno?’

Prydain pointed
up the slope at the far end of the valley to a stone hut,
surrounded by armed warriors.

‘
I’ll wager she’s in there,’ he said.

‘
We
have to get up there,’ said Gwydion, ‘there’s only an hour until
dawn.’

They retreated
into the undergrowth and circled the Henge, staying well away from
the hive of activity.

----

The going was
much slower than they expected due to the amount of human traffic
making their way to the Henge in the pre-dawn gloom. They stayed in
amongst the thicker undergrowth around the outer edge of the copse,
crawling on their bellies to remain unseen in the darkness.
Finally, they reached the edge opposite the hut door and were
dismayed to see there was still a guard on duty. They waited for an
age, listening to the hypnotic chanting of thousands of voices
permeating the surrounding hills and forests. Suddenly, Gwydion
grabbed Prydain’s arm.

‘
Look!’ he said.

Prydain followed
his pointing finger and could see the shutters being opened from
the inside. Though it was still dark outside, the two men could see
the profile of a girl, illuminated by the light of
candles.

‘
Is
it her?’ asked Prydain, staring at the shorthaired girl wrapped in
a scarlet cape.

‘
No!’ said Gwydion, the disappointment evident in his voice,
‘I don’t understand. The messenger in Caratacus’s camp described
her clearly.’

‘
Perhaps, he was mistaken,’ said Prydain. ‘Perhaps she is safe
at home while you have travelled all this way for
nothing.’

‘
I
hope you’re right, Roman,’ said Gwydion.

Suddenly another
figure joined the red caped girl at the window, her long blond hair
reflecting the candlelight in a golden glow that beautifully
matched the astonishing bejewelled cloak she was
wearing.

‘
There she is,’ stuttered Gwydion. ‘By the Gods, I have never
seen a vision so entrancing.’

‘
Are
you sure it is her?’

‘
I
grew up with her, Roman, I would recognise her anywhere. Who else
in the whole of these Britannic islands has hair such as
she?’

‘
What do we do now?’ asked Prydain.

‘
We
have a little time,’ said Gwydion. ‘I hope that guard will be
distracted long enough for us to get inside and bring her
out.’

Prydain pointed
at another three guards around the edge of the thicket, each
keeping an eye on the hut entrance.

‘
What about those?’

Gwydion
evaluated the situation over and over again, finally realising that
there was no way he could approach the hut without being seen. The
drums and chanting grew louder and he was conscious that the
horizon was getting lighter. They had to act now. He turned to
Prydain.

‘
I
hardly know you, Roman.’ he said. ‘Our people are at war and I have
imprisoned you with the full intention of selling you into slavery
for my own ends. Yet now, I find myself asking you to do something
that I have no right to ask.’

Prydain stared
back in silence as Gwydion drew his knife and offered it to him
handle first.

‘
Have you ever murdered a man, Roman?’ he asked.

‘
No,’ answered Prydain eventually. ‘But I have killed many in
a cause designed to make a rich man richer. Is that not the
same?’

‘
Only the Gods can judge,’ said Gwydion and nodded toward the
furthest guard.

‘
If
you can take care of him, I will take the other three.’

‘
Three for you and one for me,’ smiled Prydain, ‘you think a
lot of yourself.’

‘
I
know my own skills, Roman.’ he said. ‘Wait two hundred heartbeats
and I will slay the first. When he falls, you take your man. The
rest are mine.’

Prydain paused
before taking the knife and without another word, crawled back into
the undergrowth to circle his way toward his target.

Gwydion unpacked
Angau from its leather wrap and strung the bow, grimacing as its
ancient frame creaked under the strain. He withdrew three arrows
and placed them on the ground before him, calculating the order of
the kills. He needed to take the one facing him first so there
would be a delay before the alarm was raised. After that, he would
take the nearest and finally, if he had been successful with the
first two kills, he should have enough time to take the third. He
placed an arrow in the string of Angau and as the beats of his
heart reached two hundred, took a step into the clearing in full
view of the guard facing him.

The guard’s eyes
suddenly widened as he saw the threat and reached for his sword,
but his hand’s journey suddenly changed direction and rose to his
throat in confusion. There was no arrow sticking out of his neck,
only a feather-lined hole rapidly filling with arterial blood where
the shaft had passed clean through.

He fell to his
knees in shock and tried to call out a warning to his comrades. His
efforts were in vain as he choked on his own blood and as the pain
kicked in, he dropped writhing to the floor. A second guard looked
over, attracted by the noise. More alert than the first victim, he
immediately recognised the danger and called out as he ran toward
Gwydion.

Gwydion reloaded
Angau and sent an arrow straight into the middle of the warrior’s
chest, killing him instantly, but as good as he was, he knew that
he could take only one more before the last warrior reached
him.

‘
Blast the Roman.’ he thought, ‘this one should already be
dead.’

His third arrow
missed completely as the warrior ducked at the last moment and
Gwydion discarded Angau to draw his sword. He knew there was no way
he could defeat the two attacking warriors, but he would go down
fighting. He raised his sword to deflect the strike of the
warrior’s larger blade being brought down to cleave his skull in
two, shuddering under the impact. Pain shot through his arm and it
was all he could do to lift it up again to deflect the second
strike. The remaining warrior closed in to finish him off and
Gwydion knew he his chances were minimal.

Suddenly Prydain
came crashing out of the undergrowth and flew at the second
warrior, knocking him off his feet. Gwydion’s strength was
momentarily refreshed by the unexpected arrival of the Roman, and
as the other two antagonists grappled in the dirt, he renewed his
efforts against the heavier swordsman.

Both Prydain’s
knife and the warrior’s sword had been dislodged in the collision,
and though Prydain was weaker than his enemy, he had managed to cut
through the man’s upper arm muscle before he lost his blade. With
one arm now useless, the odds were even and they rolled around the
clearing, each seeking an advantage over the other. They got to
their feet before Prydain managed to get his hands around his
opponent’s throat to throttle him, but the man responded by
smashing his forehead into the Roman’s nose, spreading it across
his face.

Prydain
staggered backwards, momentarily stunned as the warrior closed in
for the kill. He realised he was close to losing the fight and
placed all his strength into one last effort. He allowed the man to
come in close and as his opponent reached back to wind up an
enormous punch, Prydain stepped in toward him and using every last
ounce of strength, drove the heel of his hand upwards onto his
opponent’s chin, instantly shattering both sides of his jaw at the
joints and driving the bones up into his brain. The warrior fell
back in excruciating pain and as the brain cells struggled to make
sense of the damage, he fell to the floor before thrashing
uncontrollably in a final painful death throe.

Gwydion had also
bettered his man and was forcing him backwards despite the
warrior’s larger sword. He knew he was the better swordsman and
kept the pressure on. Finally, the opportunity he had been waiting
for materialized and as the tired warrior swung a wild horizontal
blow, intended to decapitate him, Gwydion ducked inside and drove
the point of his sword upwards through his opponent’s stomach and
deep into his chest. The warrior stopped suddenly and gripped
Gwydion’s throat, but the sword was deep inside his body and
Gwydion savagely twisted the blade, slicing the man’s heart in two.
The man’s grip fell away and Gwydion pushed the dying warrior
backwards to withdraw his blade.

Gwydion took a
step backwards gasping for breath, but seeing a movement out of the
corner of his eye, span around to defend himself.

Prydain stood in
front of him, and as Gwydion watched in horror, the Roman reached
back and threw his knife directly at Gwydion’s head. The spinning
blade passed close enough for him to hear the rush of air, and
realised the Roman had missed.

Prydain stood
across from Gwydion, each staring at each other in silence.
Although he didn’t understand the reason for the betrayal, Gwydion
resolved to finish the situation once and for all. He re-gripped
the hilt of his sword, but before he moved, another sound from
behind him caused him to spin around.

A final,
previously unseen guard had fallen to his knees a few paces behind
Gwydion. He had sneaked up to kill him from behind, the threat
obvious by the sword hanging limply from his hand, but his mission
had been cut short by Prydain’s blade sticking angrily from between
his eyes. As Gwydion watched, the warrior toppled forward into the
dirt and Gwydion span back around to stare in gratitude at the
Roman.

‘
I
thought that was meant for me!’ he said.

‘
Perhaps it was,’ said Prydain, ‘maybe I killed the wrong
man.’

‘
Perhaps,’ answered Gwydion. ‘Anyway you were
late!’

‘
You
count too fast!’ answered Prydain.

‘
Come on,’ said Gwydion, ‘there is little time!’ and he ran
across the clearing and into the hut.

----

Chapter 32

On the northern
coast of Khymru, a stranger sat on a grassy bank at the side of the
road leading through Treforum, hungrily eating a bowl of soup from
the same trader that Gwydion had patronised over a year earlier.
The nosey old woman gave up trying to engage him in conversation
when he had indicated he couldn’t understand, but though he looked
a bit rough, his money was as good as any and she had happily
ladled two heaped spoons of broth into a wooden bowl in return for
a copper coin. The stranger’s common clothing was well worn and
dirty. His black hair was unkempt and droplets of soup ran through
his week old beard. The woman’s partner joined them and tried to
make conversation.

‘
Come far?’ he asked.

The man shrugged
his shoulders and mumbled something in a strange
language.

‘
I’ve tried that!’ said the woman. ‘Can’t you see he’s a
foreigner?’

The old man
stared at the stranger wolfing down the food.