Chapter Fourteen







Aurelia was left with the feeling that something very important had just happened and she had no idea what that was.



The fair head man had been rage personified. It simmered beneath his skin, leapt out from his eyes. It darkened the room when he entered it. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck had risen when he had looked upon her, it was like he was nothing but a vessel that Mars, the God of War, had poured all of his malice into. Who was he?



Kailen had said something that had incurred the man’s ire. Despite the respectful tone of voice Kailen had used when addressing him, Kailen’s stance had been implacable. And while no eye had been drown to her during the raised voices, they spoke over her head like she was part of the furniture, she had the foreboding feeling that the argument was in reference to her.



Wasn’t it always these days?



Ever since the ship wrecking on the rocks, it all seemed to hinge on her. She had been at the centre of it all, as a War Prize, as intended, as a means for war. She was now fitted into the role of Helen of Troy, her favourite of all the Greek tales. Only she wasn’t playing anymore, this was really happening. And she wasn’t the gallant hero, she was the catalyst, completely powerless to stop it.



There was no power on this earth that could turn time back to the day when she got on that ship, no way to warn of what would happen.



Calonus dismissed them both with an incline of his head and Kailen took her arm and led her out of the hut back into the daylight. She blinked rapidly to get used to the bright flare of sunshine, before she was frogmarched past the small group of tribesman still lingering around. Some called out to Kailen and he only acknowledged them with a brief nod.



Aurelia opened her mouth to demand what that had been all about but one look from Kailen made her shut her mouth with an audible click. Now was not the time for questions, not out in the open like they were. She may have relented for the time being, but she wouldn’t be put off. She was going to get her answeres one way or another.



Kailen led her to the outskirts of the village, where a well maintained hut stood. Someone had already tethered Kailen’s warhorse to a pole outside, the horse happily munching on dried wheat in a large cotton sack. She wasn’t sure what she had expected of Kailen’s home, but on the outskirts hadn’t been it. Was he considered an outcast in the eyes of the others?



She looked up at him with a frown. “Are warriors not respected in your tribe?” Aurelia stopped when she realised how stupid that sounded out loud. The welcome he had from the others was proof that he was very dear to the tribe.



He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to continue.



She gestured sheepishly to his living space. “You live on the outskirts… away from your leader…”



Kailen’s face cleared when he grasped her meaning. “We work on a structural system of living. Most warriors take homes on the outskirts of the village to protect our tribe from raiders and attack. Our leader, Calonus, has his own personal bodyguards living around him, their lives pledged solely to his well-being.”



Aurelia locked at the line of huts just away from Kailen’s. “But you live further out than the rest of the warriors.” She pointed out.



He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling with humour. Aurelia was shocked to realise it was the first real smile he had claimed at her. “You are a perceptive little thing, aren’t you?”



She coloured at his words and ducked her head. “Not really.”



His smile widened. “You’re right, of course. I like being apart of a whole. My tribe means everything to me, but I also like my own space to think. It… calms me.”



“Yes, I suppose you would need some space after all the Roman killing.” Aurelia said glibly.



Kailen didn’t rise to the bait.. Instead, he patted down his horse, promising him a brush down befitting a king before they moved to the hut.



Kailen’s hut was about haf the size of the leader’s hut, but it felt more homely. It was set out in the same way, with a large bedstead to the back covered in furs and a hearth dug out in the centre of the room for a fire. Coloured shields were mounted on the posts that held the huts structure, chests of dark wood were overflowing with clothes and cloths. A table was set to the side with earthenware bowls and cutlery.



The air in the hut was cool, due to no fire burning for weeks and dust motes danced lazily in the air. It needed a good airing out, but that could be remedied within the day.



Kailen picked up an armful of dry firewood from a wicker basket at the door and heaped them in the hearth with kindling, busying with getting a fire going. It took no tie at all to send sparks over the kindling and flames grew to lick merrily at the wood. It was amazing how quickly the fire warmed the enclosed space, driving the creeping chills away.



Aurelia stood awkwardly at the door, maving from foot to foot restlessly, not knowing what to do with herself. The whole day had made little sense to her, who had been the man with the scar? Why had they been fighting? What exactly was her role in this new turn of events? If death wasn’t her fate, what now?



All of the guessing and the ceaseless questions were giving her a pounding headache.



“Aurelia,” Kailen called softly, motioning to the piles of furs on the opposite side of the fire. “Sit down.”



With nothing better to do with herself, she crossed the space and sank into the furs that were pointed out to her. Her aching bones thanked her for it and she sighed quietly in appreciation. Kailen kept her head down but Aurelia could still see his cheeks stretch into a small smile.



When the flames were no longer in danger of petering out without getting attention, Kailen stood back and retrieved a large bronze stewing pot of water from the table and set it over the fire to boil. Another pot was filled with water for drinking and he poured two cups and passed one to her. She nodded her thanks and took it, drinking deeply of the cool liquid.



Another tribe member must have collected the water once they had arrived in readiness for Kailen’s return home. She eyed the medley of vegetables harvested on the wooden tray, the skinned meat, and her stomach gave a loud growl to announce its emptiness. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.



Kailen went about preparing the vegetables and meat for the pot, seeming to be content with the quiet that settled over them, but Aurelia was most certainly not. She was antsy for answers, and this waiting around wasn’t helping anything.



Unable to stay quiet any longer, she leant forward to catch his eye and said “who was that man back in the other hut? The one with the scar?”



Kailen didn’t answer her for a long time, and Aurelia wondered if he ever would, before he finally spoke in a curiously blank voice. “That man is Caratacus, High-King of the British tribes.”



Aurelia’s eyes widened in astonishment, having no inkling she had been in the presence of a High-King. He had no ornamentation to his person, no crown or head-dress, not even a gold torc like the one Calonus, the Silure’s leader, had around his neck. She had taken him for a warrior like Kailen, judging by the heavy musculature that can only be achieved by contstant training, but nothing more than that.



But now that she thought about it, he did have a certain bearing that demanded everyone’s notice when he walked into the room. A man can only achieve that sort of demeanour if he was born to it, no matter if he was wearing a crown or not.



Caratacus, High-King of Britannia.



Her brow creased in thought, the name seemed to sound oddly familiar to her.



“Caratacus…” she murmured. “Why do I know that name?”



“I would be greatly surprised if you didn’t know that name.” Kailen said gravely. “Seeing as it is your intended’s greatest victory.”



“Victory?” She had to ask.



Kailen nodded, not looking up from his work. “Your intended, Quintus Aquilla, Commander of the Roman Legion XX Valeria Victrix, were the sole perpetrators of slaughtering a whole tribe of people, the tribe belonging to Caratacus.”



Aurelia felt her body go hot then cold. “That-that’s not possible-“



Was it? Aquilla had been heralded a hero in Rome for his victories in the British conquest, particularly for ‘dethroning’ one of the High-Kings and putting an end to one of the most troublesome of the British tribes for good.



For good…



Aurelia felt a spike of anger in Aquilla’s defence. “And how many Roman lives did they take before Aquilla met their challenge?”



Kailen met her eyes calmly. “As many as they had to. This may cause as a surprise to a nation built on slavery and conquest, but people don’t take kindly to other people taking their land and demanding everlasting servitude.”



Aurelia let the rage settle over her, it was far better than resorting to weeping all the time. “And I suppose your people are any better? Your tribes fight each other constantly, wage battles over the same things you accuse us of.”



She had expected disgust at his people being compared to the Romans he hated so much. Instead, he added the meat and vegetables to the boiling pot and stirred it in with a large spoon. He raised his eyebrows at her. “’Us, Aurelia? Are you including yourself with those that invaded our shores?”



Aurelia huffed in irritation. “Is there any difference to you people? One Roman is the same as any other and nothing I can say or do will ever change your mind on the fact.”



His stirring paused briefly, before it resumed. “I thought that once, not so long ago.”



“What changed?” she asked, clearly not believing him.



He just smiled, his eyes back on the food. “Besides, when your country is suddenly invaded by a marauding army of cutthroats bent on selling you into slavery for the rest of your life, I will remember you said that.”



There was no arguing with him. She had no leg to stand on in a moral argument, and he would not hear of one either. She turned back to their previous conversation. “And this, this High-King-“



“Caratacus,” Kailen supplied.



“Yes, Caratacus, he is your High-King?” She asked.



“We recognise his right as King, yes. We took him in when he fled the Romans. What is ours, is now his.” He said.



Aurelia nodded. “And I suppose his revenge became yours, all deeds done in the name of the King.”



Kailen looked at her from across the fire, the orange glow of the flames, setting off a gleam in his eyes that was entrancing to watch. “I cannot deny that we acted on the encouragement of Caratacus, but every warrior in that war party has a personal grievance with the Roman soldiers.”



Aurelia flicked her eyes down to her lap where her hands twisted together, before meeting his stare again. “Even you?” She asked softly.



“Even me.” He said and stood up to retrieve two earthenware bowls to ladle some stew in each.



Aurelia sat up straighter in her slouch so she could properly eat the blessedly hot stew. It was the best thing she had tasted in what felt like years.



“My brother and my sister were the only family I really knew. My Mother died giving birth to my sister when I was very young, I don’t remember her. My father…” He shrugs noncommittally. “Was never really a father to begin with. He wasn’t born with a tribe mentality, often wandered the land on his own for weeks on end until the point where he never returned. It was our brother that raise me and my sister. He taught me how to fight, how to be a warrior. I am what I am because of him.”



Aurelia had stopped eating to give all of her attention to him. “What happened to your brother?”



“When the Romans landed, a call from all the tribes went us for all available warriors to meet them in battle and protect our way of life. Trystin, my brother, took up the call. As the younger brother, I stayed here to protect the village. He…”



Aurelia felt sick, she had a horrible feeling that she knew where this was going. She put the bowl of stew down beside her, her appetite totally lost.



“Your intended was the legion that defeated them. Defeat is a hard thing to swallow but when your loved ones’ bodies arrive in a cart where their hands, feet and heads were cut off and missing… where is the honour in that? In our culture, to do that to a fallen man, it means they cannot see in the afterlife, they cannot walk or touch… it is the ultimate humiliation.”



Kailen put his own bowl down and stared listlessly into the fire. “I had to bury my brother knowing he would not pass on as he should. They all deserved that and Aquilla denied them that right.”



There was nothing she could say to that, no words to make it right. Aquilla couldn’t possibly be responsible for such a heinous crime, it has to be one of his superiors, or…



But she couldn’t say this out loud, it wasn’t the right thing. What were the use of excuses to a man who was grieving for a wronged brother, who now took on the mantle of his own head of the family. If she had been in his position, would she have been so overcome with bitter revenge?



Watching Kailen now, she was slowly realising that he wasn’t so confusing. Day after day, the layers of misunderstanding were being peeled away and revealing a man she…



Well, it didn’t do well to think about. She had an Intended that she was anxious to get home to.



That was all that mattered, in the end.





~

This chapter is un-edited and i have the horrible feeling i have left so many mistakes in it. But if i don't upload it now, i will miss my deadline of a Sunday post.

I hope you guys can forgive how late this chapter was in uploading. I was unselfishly introducing my boyfriend to the wonderous world of the Walking Dead and what started with watching a couple of episodes soon turned out to be two seasons worth along with an incredible amount of pizza.

I can barely move but it was worth it as he can nw appreciate all of my zombie puns even if he doesn't want to.