Chapter 3 #3
Soon, Garamaros bowed before her. Alina’s eyes feasted on him as her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. He looked unharmed; still tall, strong, handsome, and self-assured. She greeted him and said, “I did not expect to see you for many months. Do you have news?”
“No real news, but rumors aplenty,” he answered as he laid out his wares before her.
Alina bent over his gold and silver brooches, close to his kneeling form, pretending to choose from amongst his goods. “You are here, and I am glad,” she murmured. “My husband expects a mighty battle against the Roman army. All warriors have been summoned to stand ready to assist.”
“I heard and could not stay away, in case we are separated forever by the coming conflict. I could not bear to have you or Sorcha harmed or enslaved by the Romans. I have a plan, should it be our fate that they defeat us.”
“We must hope they are forced back into the sea by our warriors. They’re a dark and fearsome empire that exists to vanquish other nations and turn their people into slaves while stripping their lands of all riches.
” What if her beautiful daughter and her sons were enslaved or killed?
Fear gnawed her stomach night and day, made her restless, and impelled her to cling to her children, much to the boys’ disgust.
“What of your sons? Will they fight with their father?” he asked. Her insides tightened at his question.
“The eldest five will, with the younger three of those serving as charioteers for Arthmael and their older brothers.” The small hitch in her breath at the mention of her sons betrayed her fears.
“My youngest six boys will remain here. I will lead the people of Mai Dun until Arthmael’s return.
” She glanced around to check none of her serving women were close.
“I will be glad of your presence and support,” she whispered.
“I will do all I can to help you. I cannot remain here the whole time, but I will confine my travels to the closer settlements. Once we hear of the outcome of the attempted invasion, the future will be clearer, and I will return. Until then, I am merely a humble beadmaker and goldsmith, come to trade.” The frown on his beloved face betrayed his concern for her.
“You will be close and that must be enough.” Fear for the future of her family continued to gnaw at Alina’s innards.
Her husband, sons and clans-people could lose their lives.
She thanked the gods that her other children would be with her and Garamaros close by, so she did not need to worry they would be harmed… for now.
If the people of this island lost their struggle in the weeks and months to come, their future would be changed forever. Would their Celtic world even survive? Most likely it would not continue as she knew it. Death, destruction, and enslavement resulted from losing to the army of the Roman Empire.
Alina envisaged roundhouses burning; warriors slaughtered; women raped; and the surviving men, women and children led away in chains.
These happenings occurred in the Celtic world too, when intertribal wars broke out.
But the Romans could destroy their whole culture and take her people from these shores.
That made the scenario so much more terrifying.
She knew this from Garamaros’ relating of the history of the Belgae’s defeat by the Roman army generations ago. The Belgae from whom Garamaros was descended had fled to Albion for those very reasons—freedom and the continuation of their way of life.
If the Roman army gained a hold in Albion, which tribes would they attack? If Mai Dun were threatened, what would Arthmael do? Face the foe with the whole community together, or send the women and children to a safe haven at another hill fort?
And if it fell, where would the refugees find safety?
Would there be any place in Albion safe from the Romans?
What would happen to her children? Garamaros? Her husband? The Durotriges? And the Celtic people of Albion? At the thought of Sorcha in chains, humiliated and assaulted, fear twisted a dagger in Alina’s belly.
She shuddered, her hand automatically seeking the golden beads, warm against her chest, as the blood in her veins turned to ice.
Sorcha did not understand Alina’s fears at all. She had the heart and spirit of a warrior. She believed that victory would belong to the Celts.
But what did she know about the Roman army?
Next to nothing. Sorcha hadn’t heard the history of the defeat of the Belgae that Garamaros had related to Alina over the last twenty years. She had no idea about the danger they faced.
The future was an unknown, overbearing and frightening beast, brought by the disciplined, precise ranks of the Roman army now readying to disembowel Albion’s Celtic world and all those within it.
Alina clutched the golden beads Garamaros had fashioned and shuddered in fear. Perhaps the time rapidly approached for Alina to pass on the protective talisman that Garamaros had fashioned to celebrate her children’s births.
Sorcha may need it very soon.