Chapter 20 #2
She understood what it was like to give up on a persona derived from the name of one’s parent to become someone in your own right. She no longer cared whether she was the daughter of Arthmael, just that she was a worthy leader of her people.
Sorcha fisted his tunic in her hand and gave a tug in the direction of her quarters. “Until I’m convinced, you must prove yourself to me in many ways. You can start now.” Lust and love for this man warmed her body.
* * *
Lucius woke at dawn after only a few hours’ sleep. He should be exhausted, but instead exhilaration bubbled through his veins. He was alive. He was free of the expectations of Rome and his family. And he was lying beside the woman he loved.
His new life was beginning.
Lucius held no doubt that he would be regarded by every Roman citizen as not only a traitor to the Empire, but also as a fool or insane to give up his elevated place in their world to live with barbarians, whom they thought inferior in birth, education, culture, and technology.
He had learned much about the Celts’ medicine, astronomy, and laws in his few months at Dun Creg, and he no longer believed in the superiority of Roman civilization, except its technology—its ability to construct masonry edifices, paved roads, and water supply and sewerage systems.
If only the Celtic people would commit what they knew into writing, the rest of the world would know it also, and admire them.
Instead, the druids kept a tight hold on their knowledge through vetoing its recording.
He feared for their civilization as the Roman Empire expanded.
Celtic people already living within the Empire were rapidly losing their language and their culture.
It would happen in Britannia as well, unless the Britons relinquished their oral-only tradition.
Sorcha woke and crept her hand across his chest. All thoughts about cultural genocide fled as he gave her his full attention. Afterwards, they lay sated in each other’s arms.
“Marry me,” he said.
She rose onto one arm and looked into his eyes, her own gaze soft with emotion. “You do realize that if we were to marry, you would not gain control of me or of this settlement? Our laws do not allow it.”
“I don’t seek power over you. I seek equality. I want to be accepted in Dun Creg as an equal, with a voice that may command respect.”
“You don’t have to marry me to gain that. The people can grant you that right.”
“I still wish to marry you. I love you. I want to have our relationship recognized by all Durotriges.”
“Is that what would happen in Rome when you married?”
His laughter was short and harsh.
“You would not have married for love?”
“I would not. My marriage to a young woman of suitable rank and wealth would have been organized by my father in Rome. A contract would have been signed and the business arrangement formalized with a simple vow followed by feasting.”
“That sort of arrangement can happen here too.”
“Did you love your betrothed?” he asked.
“I admired him and respected him. I was happy for the marriage to take place because I had not met you and didn’t understand love.”
“Would you do the same again?”
“Never.”
He sucked in a breath. “Then, will you marry me?”
Sorcha leaned forward and skimmed her lips across his. “I shall.”
Lucius’s heart swelled in his chest. He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head, and deepened the kiss. After long minutes, he eased back. “Name the day.”
“When you have the bride price, we can marry.”
Lucius laughed. “What are you worth? A dozen horses? Ten milch cows?”
Sorcha’s brow lowered. “Twenty gold Roman coins or the equivalent weight of gold.”
He stopped laughing. “That’s a lot.”
Sorcha shrugged. “I suppose we will have to wait to marry.” She turned her face from him.
Was she trying to hide a smile? He could play that game too. Lucius rolled to his feet and dug within his saddle bag. He held up a leather pouch and jiggled it. The coins inside clanked dully.
Sorcha blinked. “You have gold coins?”
“Retrieved from my belongings at the marching camp before Adler and I departed. I thought it might be useful.” He couldn’t keep a grin off his face.
“As you know, most of my dowry was sold by Garamaros for our supplies. I cannot match the price.”
“You don’t need to. You are giving me a true home and a family. That is much more than I had in Rome.”
They stayed in bed longer after that, until roused out by Alina, who chided them for laziness but softened her expression when they told her they had agreed to marry.
“And I think it’s time you married Garamaros as well, Mother,” Sorcha said.
Alina gave a gentle smile. “I do believe you’re right. It is more than time to make my heart’s love my husband.”
* * *
Their handfast ceremonies were celebrated on a fine, cool day at the next full moon, after Lucius and Adler had been formally accepted into the tribe. Flower petals covered the meeting ground in front of the chieftain’s roundhouse, and branches of oak framed its entrance.
In the center of the circle formed by the Durotriges, Lucius stood with his bride. Beside them were Alina and Garamaros.
Both Sorcha and Alina wore garments of the finest cloth brought from Gaul and embroidered by the Dun Creg women. Entwined in their hair were sprigs of flowering heather and bright autumn-tinted leaves.
The settlement’s druid priest bade the couples clasp each other’s right hands. Each couple made their vows. Afterwards, the druid beseeched the goddess of fertility to smile upon Lucius and Sorcha and bring forth many sons.
And so, the transformation of Lucius Gallus Antonius was completed. He became a Durotriges clansman and the husband of the chieftain. There would be no return to Rome for him, but he had every hope of introducing a few of the comforts of Roman life to the settlement—starting with a bathhouse.