Chapter 14 #3
Lucius, mouth tight as he squinted, stared into the distance.
“Maonos and I will ride out to scout.”
He grasped her elbow. There was fear in his eyes. “Dangerous. Do not go.”
Sorcha pulled her arm from his grip. “I must.” She turned and called down to her brother. “Maonos, have Eachann ready two swift mounts.” She hurried down the ladder with Lucius right behind her, muttering in his own language.
“Get ready to defend the fort,” she ordered Lucius.
For two heartbeats he didn’t answer, just looked at her with an unreadable expression, before he turned from her and ordered the people to arm themselves.
Soon Maonos and Sorcha were armed and mounted ready to leave. “Close the gates after us and keep them closed until all danger has passed. Do not endanger Dun Creg by opening the gates to us if we are pursued.”
Lucius stared at her, defiance on his stony face.
“Agreed?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
Sorcha urged her mount forward, and in moments, she and Maonos were galloping for the cover of the woods to observe the group that approached. Once they reached the tree line, they eased their pace to a fast walk, which the undergrowth necessitated.
Within minutes they overlooked the trackway that led along the stream-filled valley towards Dun Creg from the southeast.
What she saw took Sorcha’s breath away.
It was not the feared Roman army.
Nor was it a war party of Dumnone.
Or any other known enemy.
Instead, she found the familiar faces of the refugees from Mai Dun.
Why were they here? What had happened to make them abandon Dun Cam? Had the Romans defeated King Bledyos?
She had so many questions. Relief and fear battled for supremacy inside her.
“Our people,” she said.
“And some I don’t know,” Maonos added. “Do you recognize the men on horseback?”
“They’re from Dun Cam. Why are they here?”
“It seems safe. Shall we go and find out?” Maonos asked.
“Let’s watch for a little longer. Our people could be a lure to bring us out of hiding.” They scouted the forest along the whole length of the column of Durotriges and found no scouts and no enemy riders lurking.
“I say we go and greet them, Sorcha.”
“Agreed, but be ready to flee an attack.”
They trotted their horses from the trees into the open valley.
At their appearance, a scream split the still afternoon air, and the women and children rushed to the two wagons that plodded with them. A dozen men on horseback, scattered around the group, raced to form a defensive line facing Sorcha and Maonos.
“We come in peace,” Sorcha called.
“Who are you?” the largest of the men responded.
“Durotriges from Dun Creg.”
“Name the chieftain of Dun Creg.”
“Sorcha, daughter of Arthmael of Dun Mai,” Sorcha answered.
“What happened to Oglach, the previous chieftain?”
“Killed by the Dumnone,” Sorcha answered. Bitterness laced her voice.
“And your names?”
A widow who had escaped Mai Dun before the siege hurried forward to the men from the group they were escorting. “Sorcha and Maonos, offspring of Arthmael, who was King of the Durotriges before his death,” she answered.
The warriors relaxed in their saddles.
The woman placed her hand on the leader’s leg and smiled up at the battle-scarred man with fondness before turning to Sorcha. “It is good to see you again, daughter of Arthmael,” the woman said.
Sorcha smiled at the familiar face. Clearly, the woman had recovered from the loss of her husband in battle last year. The healing after the first slaughter at the hands of the Romans had begun. “And you. What has happened to bring you here?”
“Mai Dun has fallen to the Romans,” the woman said.
A knife of pain plunged into Sorcha’s chest. “My brothers? The others?”
“I’m sorry, but they are probably dead. The defeat was absolute. It was a bloodbath,” the warrior replied, his tone was as grim as the straight line of his mouth.
“Did no one survive?” Sorcha asked, desperation in her voice.
How could her five brothers be gone? Caileanos, the young warrior chieftain, Brianan, named for strength, Cathal, whose name meant battle might, Seitheach, the wolf, and Eoghann, the well-born—all aged between twenty and sixteen, the youngest not even an adult.
“If they survived, they were enslaved.” The warrior’s voice roughened with emotion.
Sorcha slumped over her horse’s withers, clutching her stomach and fighting the vomit threatening to rise in her throat.
Maonos urged his mount closer and patted her shoulder. “They will have died bravely, Sorcha, defending our land and people.”
“We should have been there,” she choked out.
“Caileanos, as chieftain, sent us away. It was our duty to do as he ordered. You know that.”
No! No, I don’t. She was the oldest; she should have stayed.
“I am right, Sorcha.” His voice was soft, meant as a balm, to reassure.
Finally, she nodded her head in acquiescence and straightened in her saddle.
The warriors watched her with frowns on their faces. She needed to assert her authority now. “I am the chieftain of the Durotriges of Dun Creg. If you wish to join us there, you must explain why you abandoned Bledyos at Dun Cam and vow your allegiance to me as your new chieftain.”
The men shifted in their saddles.
“Don’t think you can attack a few women and children at Dun Creg and defeat us. We are armed and have already annihilated a fifty-strong Dumnone war band. Tell me your story now.” Her voice was strong and demanding. She would not let anyone enter Dun Creg who was a risk to her people.
Their leader cleared his throat. “After the fall of Mai Dun, your uncle Bledyos made peace with the Romans rather than be deposed and have his people destroyed.” The man gestured to the warriors around him.
“We did not agree with his decision and did not wish to live in Roman-controlled lands. We believe we have a better chance of retaining our way of life at Dun Creg.” The man gestured to the woman beside him.
“This one convinced us that service at Dun Creg was the answer.”
Could she trust them? If they had come without the Mai Dun people, she would not have been swayed. “I am satisfied,” Sorcha said. “You may pledge your allegiance to me now.”
The men dismounted and formally swore to serve her.
Once the brief ceremony ended, Sorcha sent Maonos back to Dun Creg with the urgent message for her mother to prepare the empty roundhouses for the Mai Dun refugees. Sorcha remained behind to glean news from the people about the fall of Mai Dun and of Bledyos’s capitulation.
“Tell me, what happened at Mai Dun and Dun Cam?”
“Bledyos sent a party of us to observe the Romans attack on Mai Dun. The siege lasted only a few days before the gates were breached by the army.”
“Could you do nothing?” Sorcha demanded.
The warrior bowed his head. “My lady, there was nothing we could do against their overwhelming numbers,” he mumbled. “The dun was devastated with ease—the warriors killed, the survivors shackled and the settlement razed.”
“And Dun Cam?” she asked.
“We reported to Bledyos and he sent his druid-law keeper to parley with the Roman leader. They met and Bledyos capitulated to Roman control in return for no further hostilities in Durotriges lands. And now they build a new settlement for our people and forbid us to occupy our hillforts.”
Hatred of the Romans burned hot and bright within Sorcha again.
By the time the tired group of refugees reached Dun Creg, Sorcha’s rage was roiling in her gut like molten lava ready to burst free.
She wanted revenge, and she wanted it now.