‘I have to admit, she does have something of the Gods about her.’
‘So you will help us?’
‘I will,’ said Blackthorn, ‘But there is a price to pay.is a?
‘We have little coin,’ said Dragus.
‘I have no need of Roman coin,’ said the Chieftain. ‘We will give you shelter and our protection. No word of your whereabouts will reach the ears of the Romans or the filth that take their coin. You will work for your keep but will share in the food of the village. Your Priestess will also be allowed to set up her shrine and worship your Goddess. However, after the child is born, the Priestess will wed my son.’
‘What?’ asked Dragus incredulously, ‘But she would never allow that to happen. She is a Priestess of Vesta and vowed to know no man for thirty years.’
‘The rules of your homeland do not apply here, Roman. She will be allowed to continue worshipping this Vesta you speak of, but she will do so as the wife of my son. One day, when, the birds pick over the remains of my funeral pyre, she will become the wife of a Chieftain. Until that time, the slave will see to her health and you will see to her safety.’
‘And if any Roman patrols come to the village?’ asked Dragus.
‘They will not find you in any of our huts. Back amongst the tree line there is a cave where we used to keep our pigs in winter. It is dry, and there is a stream nearby. With a few furs and a bit of cleaning, it will be comfortable enough. This is where you will stay until the child is born. Take it or leave it, Roman, I can just as easily have you bound and handed over to the governor of Londinium. Your choice.’
‘There is no choice,’ said Dragus eventually, ‘We accept your offer.’
‘Do you not wish to speak to the Priestess, first?’
‘There is no need to worry her about this matter, Blackthorn. There will be time enough when the child is born.’
‘I like the way you think, Roman,’ laughed Blackthorn, ‘Then the deal is done, but know this. If you decide to flee, my riders will find you within hours, and this time there would be no mercy. Understood?’
‘Understood,’ said Dragus.
Blackthorn turned to his son.
‘Reynard, show them to the cave,’ he said.
The two men left the hut and joined the women outside.
‘Well?’ asked Rose, ‘How did it go?’
‘Not great,’ said Dragus, ‘But at least we will be safe. Come, Reynard will show us to our new home.’
‘A cave!’ said Rose in Disgust, looking across the stream to the hole in the rock face, ‘You expect us to live in a cave?’
‘And when did you become so choosy?’ asked Dragus.
‘I may have been a slave, Dragus,’ said Rose, ‘But i t was to the household of an Emperor, don’t forget.’
‘This is not Rome, Rose,’ said Rubria, ‘We will make do.’
‘But why didn’t they give us one of the huts?’ asked Rose.
‘They can’t risk us being found by any of the patrols in the area,’ said Dragus. Besides, this will see us through the winter and until…’ He left the sentence unfinished.
‘Until when?’ asked Rubria.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Dragus, ‘Now, let’s see what this place has to offer.’ They crossed the stream and walked up to the cave entrance.
The gaping hole was four large paces across and just higher than head height. There was an old fence across the entrance and the foreground was a muddy mixture of mud and filth.
‘By the gods, it stinks,’ said Rose, lifting her hand to her nose and mouth. ‘We can’t stay in there, it is unhealthy.’
Dragus looked up at the sky.
‘It will be dark soon,’ he said, ‘We will make camp in the tree line tonight. One more night under the stars won’t hurt us. Tomorrow we will clear out the cave and build a wall across the entrance to shelter us from the wind.’
The two women gathered some extra firewood while Dragus built a fire next to the stream. Within the hour they were sat huddled around the fire, chewing on the last of the dried meat they had saved and drinking some water from the stream.
‘Do you think it will rain?’ asked Rose looking up at the sky
‘Who knows?’ sighed Dragus, ‘By the look of the skies we should be all right but there seems to be no pattern to the weather in these lands.’ They lost no time in wrapping themselves in their heavy waxed capes and curled as close as they could to the fire to glean what little warmth they could. Within moments the women were asleep, but Dragus lay awake for a long time.
He threw a few more sticks into the flames and glanced at the sleeping figures of the two women, wrapped in their warm waterproof capes. They were all relatively safe, warm and the hunger pains had been appeased for another night but he knew that they had an almost impossible task in front of them. They were in a strange country, had little money and were fugitives from the most powerful empire that the world had ever seen.
He wrapped his cape around him and laid down alongside the fire, staring into its hypnotic flames. As sleep crept up on him his last thought was for Vesta.
‘Great Goddess,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t know what purpose you have set before us, but whatever it is, please benefit us with your grace.’ He dropped slowly into a deep sleep, while below them, the village settled down for the night. In the forest an owl hooted as if welcoming the strangers to its territory, and the surrounding land fell silent.
Dragus awoke late. The sun was already above the horizon and the fire had long since died. For a second he struggled to remember where he was, but as soon as he gathered his senses, he sat up and looked around the temporary camp. Rose was still asleep but there was no sign of Rubria. He jumped up and walked over to the cave entrance. Rubria was stood outside, still wrapped in her cape.
‘Good morning, Priestess,’ he said. Rubria turned and smiled at him.
‘Good morning, Dragus,’ she replied, ‘Did you sleep well?’
Once again the Centurion’s breath was taken away by the depth of her eyes.
‘A little too good, I think,’ he answered, ‘The sun is already on its way across the sky and there is much to do.’
‘There is plenty of time,’ said Rubria, ‘At least we can now focus on one place instead of moving on every few days.’ Rose joined them and they all stared at the cave entrance in silence. Finally Rubria removed her cape and placed it across the bough of a nearby tree.
‘No point in putting it off any longer,’ she said, ‘Give me a hand to remove this fence.’
‘Leave it to me, Priestess,’ said Dragus, removing his own cape, ‘This is man’s work.’ He used his knife to cut the bindings and placed the planks to one side. ‘I can use these to make a door,’ he said, ‘The posts are rotting but will make good firewood.’
When the fence was down the women entered the cave. The limited light revealed a space approximately four times the size of a standard hut. The natural stone ceiling was just out of reach of a tall man and the floor was covered with old stinking straw. Rubria scraped away some of the straw.
‘We are in luck,’ she said, ‘Beneath the filth there is a stone floor. With a bit of sweat and plenty of water, it will scrub clean.’
‘Leave this to me, Miss,’ said Rose, ‘It’s nothing that a bit of hard graft won’t sort out. You wait outside in the fresh air and I will make it a bit more homely.’ She dropped to her knees and started to pick up the filthy straw that littered the floor, but within seconds, was joined by Rubria on her knees, At first Rose protested but the Priestess would have none of it and they cleared the room together, both gagging as they cleared the filth from the cave.
Dragus spent the day cutting small trees to form a rudimentary palisade across the entrance. When the uprights were solid, he intertwined supple ash boughs between them to make a wall. Finally, he and rose collected arms full of bracken to fill the holes in the surprisingly solid barrier. Eventually he turned and walked into the cave to see how they were getting on. The cave had been swept clean and one side had been piled up with bracken for bedding.