Roman - The Fall of Britannia (38 page)

‘
I
fear we are too late,’ said Prydain quietly. He was at the back
wall, holding open one of the heavy drapes.

‘
What do you mean?’ asked Gwydion and joined Prydain at the
wall, pulling open the second drape to see what lay
beyond.

The flanks of
the valley below were populated by countless onlookers and
resonated with the sound of a thousand voices chanting in unison.
In the distance, the rays of the sun were starting to creep over
the horizon, illuminating the stones of the Henge in all its
glory.

Before them, a
procession walked serenely through the valley, two lines of Druids
walking side by side, their white robes in stark contrast to the
vibrant colours of the onlookers. An armed guard of honour lined
each side of the path, resplendent in their leather armour polished
to a high shine that mirrored the glint of their iron tipped
spears.

Yet all this
splendour was eclipsed by the lone figure that walked at the very
centre. Even from this distance, the luxurious cape positively
glowed in the pre-dawn light, its glorious colours only interrupted
by the long blond hair that hung down as far as the girl’s
waist.

‘
Gwenno,’ whispered Gwydion, distraught as he watched the girl
walk to her death. He lurched forward to run down the path, but was
grabbed by Prydain before he managed to pass the
curtains.

‘
What do you think you’re doing?’ hissed Prydain pinning him
to the wall.

‘
I
can’t leave her to die like this,’ said Gwydion, ‘I’m going down
there.’

‘
And
how far do you think you’ll get?’

‘
I
don’t care, I can’t just leave her.’

‘
That’s exactly what you can do,’ insisted Prydain. ‘It’s too
late. You have done everything you can and will achieve nothing by
dying here. Honour her by living your life to the full and
remembering her sacrifice. She would not want you to
die.’

Gwydion stared
back down the hill, tears in his eyes. He knew the Roman was right
and he wouldn’t get twenty paces before he would be cut down. He
would die for nothing.

The procession
reached the Henge and the white clad escorts took their places
around the stone circle. Each stood in front of a pillar as the
girl walked forward alone to stand before the black cloaked Druid
waiting for her.

‘
She
does your tribe proud,’ said Prydain as they watched her dignified
approach.

Gwydion mumbled
an answer through his tears but Prydain’s attention was distracted
by a sound behind him. He span around, poised to defend himself but
the room was still empty. The sound came again and Prydain realised
it came from the girl in the red cloak. They had forgotten about
her and Prydain suddenly realised that she may still be alive. He
crossed the room quickly and stared down at the body.

Something was
wrong. If this Gwenno was so virtuous, why did she try to kill this
girl before she left the hut?’ He lifted the wounded girl’s head
gently from the pool of blood, trying not to hurt her but
immediately realised something else didn’t add up.

‘
Gwydion,’ he called, ‘come here, quickly!’

The Celt
reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the scene and looked at the
Roman.

‘
What is it?’ he asked.

‘
This girl,’ said Prydain, ‘who is she?’

‘
I
don’t know and care less,’ answered Gwydion, ‘and by the look of
all that blood, she won’t be here much longer anyway.’

‘
That’s just it,’ said Prydain, ‘it’s not blood, it’s
wine!’

Gwydion stared
uncomprehendingly.

‘
What do you mean wine?’

‘
This liquid, it’s red wine,’ said Prydain. ‘In the darkness,
we mistook it for blood.’

Gwydion walked
over.

‘
Is
she not wounded?’ he asked.

‘
I
don’t think so,’ said Prydain. ‘Though I don’t understand the
purpose of the knife.’ He indicated the weapon on the floor. He
shifted slightly and Gwydion got a close look at the girl’s face.
His eyes opened wide in astonishment.

‘
By
the Gods, Roman,’ he said, ‘it’s Gwenno.’ He staggered forward and
took the girl in his arms. ‘I don’t understand,’ he gasped. ‘How
can this be, and her hair, where is her beautiful hair?’

Prydain picked
up the knife and studied it closely before taking a few strands of
blonde hair from the blade. He looked again around the bed and
spied the empty wine goblet lying on the floor. He picked it up and
sniffed the dregs.

‘
Where am I?’ moaned Gwenno, returning to consciousness.
‘Gwydion, what are you doing here and where is Willow?’

‘
We
don’t have much time, we’ll talk later,’ said Gwydion, ‘but who is
Willow?’

‘
My
handmaiden,’ answered Gwenno. ‘She promised to help me escape.
Where is she?’

‘
I
know where she is,’ interrupted Prydain from the curtains. ‘She is
fulfilling her promise.’

----

Willow stood
before Lapwing holding her breath, praying he would not see through
her subterfuge. She was sweating heavily, not just through
nervousness, but the cape was far heavier than she had imagined and
she had tied the mask a little too tightly around her head. It was
uncomfortable but necessary to secure the long golden tresses
carefully arranged only ten minutes earlier. Lapwing was
concentrating on his mantra and anointed Willow with water before
indicating she should lie on the altar. Willow breathed again as
she realised she had got away with it. She sat on the edge of the
stone before laying back as she had done many times before, though
this time, it wasn’t for the sexual gratification of old men, but
for the ultimate sacrifice and the chance to travel to the
otherworld.

----

Gwenno and
Gwydion were alone in the hut while Prydain checked that there were
no more guards. Gwydion explained what had happened.

‘
What do you mean?’ cried Gwenno. ‘What has she
done?’

‘
She
drugged you with the wine,’ said Gwydion gently, ‘and took your
place in the ceremony.’

‘
But
my hair,’ said Gwenno feeling her head, ‘I don’t
understand.’

‘
It
would seem she needed to make herself look like you,’ answered
Gwydion. ‘The one thing that makes you stand out, even from behind
golden capes and bejewelled masks was your hair. If she had that,
then perhaps no one would look too closely.’

‘
Oh
no,’ cried Gwenno. ‘That poor girl.’

‘
She
is very brave,’ said Gwydion. ‘She must think an awful lot of
you.’

Prydain came
back into the hut.

‘
I
have got the guard’s horses,’ he said. ‘Come on we have to
leave.’

‘
We
can’t just leave her,’ said Gwenno.

‘
It
is too late,’ said Gwydion. ‘We have to go now; there is nothing
more we can do.’

----

Down in the
Henge, Willow lay serenely on the altar looking up at the sky. Some
female acolytes had arranged her gown around her, and Gwenno’s
golden locks hung magnificently from her head and over the sides of
the stone slab. A skein of geese flew overhead and she realised it
would be the last thing she would see in this life. As her eyes
followed the geese, they came to rest on the hut where she had
spent her last night and for a split second, she thought she saw
the face of Gwenno peering from behind the drapes. Willow smiled.
The carefully measured drug had worked and Gwenno had
woken.

The chanting
reached a crescendo as the sun’s rays reached down to the altar and
as they fell on Willow’s golden mask, she closed her eyes, not
wanting to see the Druid’s raised axe.

The chanting
suddenly ended and in the silence, some of the acolytes heard the
girl’s last words.

‘
I
love you, Miss!’ she whispered quietly.

Lapwing brought
the axe swinging down and Willow’s world went dark
forever.

----

The three
fugitives rode hard away from the Henge, heading inland until they
reached the ruins of a hut on the edge of a trading village. They
stopped to rest while Gwydion walked into the village to seek a
particular type of person, and had only been there for half an hour
when he spied a suitable target, a teenage boy who seemed to have
too much time on his hands. Gwydion beckoned him over.

‘
Boy, come here,’ he said.

The teenager
looked up with suspicion.

‘
Why?’ he said. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘
I’m
sure you haven’t,’ said Gwydion. ‘How would you like to earn two
coins?’

----

An hour later,
Gwydion returned to the ruined hut where Gwenno and Prydain were
waiting.

‘
There you are,’ said Gwenno jumping up and giving him a hug,
‘I was getting worried.’

‘
I’m
back now,’ said Gwydion, ‘and I’ve got some food.’ He pulled a loaf
of bread from beneath his cloak and handed it over.

‘
Eat
quickly,’ he said, ‘we have a long way to go.’

‘
Where are the horses?’ asked Prydain through a mouthful of
bread.

‘
Gone!’ answered Gwydion. ‘I’ve given them away.’

‘
Why?’ asked Gwenno.

‘
We
are leaving a trail too easy to follow. A farm boy is going to take
all three eastward until dusk. Their saddles have been weighted
down to simulate riders so hopefully, the trail they leave will
give us a few extra hours to make our escape.’

‘
Why
would he do that?’ asked Prydain

‘
I
told him that he is to meet someone at the next village who would
pay him well, and if they are not there, he can keep the
horses.’

‘
What now?’ asked Gwenno.

‘
Now
we walk,’ answered Gwydion.

‘
Where to?’

‘
Back the way we came,’ interrupted Prydain, guessing the
answer.

Gwydion
explained to Gwenno the reason for the subterfuge, and after they
had finished the meal, they started walking back the way they had
come but circling far enough south to avoid coming into contact
with any pursuers.

At last they
reached the isolated beach where the two men had been dropped off
by the fisherman the previous day. They lay in a bramble thicket at
the edge of the beach. Gwenno was fast asleep wrapped in Gwydion’s
cloak while Prydain sat alongside her, his back against a piece of
driftwood. He stared out through the cover to the open sea, hoping
that the fisherman would return early.

Gwydion lay at
the top of a sand dune keeping watch for any pursuit. The sun was
setting when he crawled back down to their hiding place.

‘
Any
sign?’ he asked.

‘
None,’ answered Prydain. ‘I don’t believe he will
come.’

‘
He
will be here,’ said Gwydion.

They sat quietly
as they waited, watching the sun set into the sea. Finally, it was
pitch dark, with only the stars to light the beach.

‘
What’s that?’ asked Prydain sitting up suddenly.

‘
What?’

‘
Listen, I heard something.’

They fell
silent, listening for anything out of the ordinary. A faint voice
carried to them in the night air.

‘
Is
it the fisherman?’ asked Prydain.

‘
I
don’t think so,’ said Gwydion. He turned to Prydain, a look of
concern on his face, ‘it’s coming from inland!’

‘
Wake Gwenno!’ snapped Gwydion, ‘I’ll see what’s
happening.’

Gwydion ran up
the dune again and crawled the last few feet to peer into the
darkness. A few hundred yards away, two men walked slowly out of
the tree line, crouching low as they examined the ground for any
signs of tracks. They each held a flaming torch to light their way
and behind them, Gwydion could make out the shapes of mounted men
stretching back into the darkness.

‘
Shit!’ he mumbled and scrambled back down the dune. ‘They’ve
found our trail,’ he said, ‘We have to go.’

‘
Where exactly?’ asked Prydain, ‘If they found us this
quickly, how long would it be until they caught us
anyway?’

‘
I
can’t run anymore,’ cried Gwenno, ‘I am exhausted.’

‘
We
have to,’ pleaded Gwydion, ‘if we stay here we will be caught
within the hour.’

‘
There is one place they won’t look,’ said Prydain.

‘
Where?’ asked Gwydion.

‘
Out
there!’ said Prydain, and pointed out to sea.

‘
What do you mean out there?’ asked Gwydion. ‘We don’t have a
boat?’

‘
What choice do we have?’ asked Prydain. ‘Our way inland is
blocked. The only place they would not expect us to go is out
there.’

‘
Where would we go?’ asked Gwydion. ‘It’s too far to swim to
the mainland.’

‘
That’s the beauty of it,’ said Prydain. ‘We only have to go
far enough out so they don’t see us and as soon as they’ve gone, we
can return; half an hour at the most!’