War Prize (A Roman Britain story)

Author's Notes: Hey guys, I'm completely new to the whole wattpad scene and, if I'm completely honest, have just got back into the swing of writing after years of hiatus thanks to University and the dry up of creative juices. But I'm trying to change that.

Any feedback and votes would be greatly appreciated, I am all ears. It would be lovely to get chatting with you!

Chapter One

43 BC — Rome

"The lives of Roman women are defined around our expectation and achievement of marriage." Aurelia's mother, Antonia, had told her when she was twelve summers old.

She sat in a curule seat in front of her mother, holding still as a girl her age should, while Antonia braided Aurelia's long dark hair in the latest fashion. Aurelia enjoyed these quiet moments with her mother, as they were so few and far between. Running a household for a large family, and all that entailed with slaves and a sprawling vineyard, left little time to spare for such things.

"Your father has high hopes for you, Aurelia. Your beauty and education have attracted a wealth of suitors to our door. Of course, only the very best of them will ever commit your father to sign a betrothal contract that would ensure your marriage when you come of age."

Aurelia felt a thrill of excitement at the words. She and her numerous siblings and cousins spent countless hours in the courtyard playing games of war, where they enacted scenes of the Trojan war and Heroes accomplished daring acts of bravery in the name of their greatest loves.

Aurelia couldn't stop herself from turning her head to meet the warm brown eyes of her mother. "Like Prince Hector of Troy?"

Antonia smiled and gently directed her daughter's head to face the front again. "I see the slave Pelinus has been filling your heads with Greek tales again."

Aurelia blushed in embarrassment. "Pelinus says we can't fully understand Greek philosophy without knowing of their deeds in life."

"How very fortunate for you children," Antonia teased as she resumed her braiding. "Do you not favour Prince Paris? Is he not more dashing than his older brother?"

Aurelia vehemently shook her head in the negative. "Prince Paris was a dishonourable man. He brought slaughter on his own people because he fancied himself in love with a married woman he had only just met. Prince Hector fought to protect his people and died heroically."

"Well," Antonia said with a quiet laugh. "You favour loyalty over charm. Your father will be pleased."

"Charm only goes skin deep," Aurelia said decisively.

"And what would you say to your father granting a betrothal contract between you and Quintus Aquilla?" She encouraged.

"I-" Aurelia stopped mid-sentence. She had only ever met Quintus Aquilla once at a religious festival in Rome, but her father often talked of him and his family. He was a boy of Seventeen, tall and regal, and Aurelia had been struck by his good looks. Marriage to one of the Aquilla clan was a high honour indeed.

"He is to enter the roman legion as a centurion. His father, Gneaus Julius Aquilla, expects him to rise in the ranks of the legionaries to fame and fortune and take his rightful place in the senate." Antonia tied off the last braid and smoothed down any rebellious pieces of hair that had escaped its confines. "By the time you come of age, he will be decorated with laurels. Your very own Prince Hector."

"Does father wish it?" Aurelia asked, her thoughts caught up with the idea of a husband. As her mother had said, her life was defined by the expectation of marriage, her dreams were always filled with the shadowed image of her husband. And now the shadow had been cast aside and she looked upon the remembered image of the man she was to call hers. Quintus Aquilla.

"He wishes it," Antonia agreed. "It shall be done. The head of our families will meet and be in negotiation soon enough."

Aurelia couldn't think of a suitable reply, too overwhelmed to think clearly.

Her mother's movements turned to soothing petting. "Your father will never see you wrong, little one. It was the same between me and my father, when he consented to my marriage to your father. And it was the same for my mother, and my grandmother before her. It is the Roman way."

Aurelia knew this part. It had been instilled in her and her siblings since they were born.

"For the good of the family."

Antonia's hand rested on Aurelia's shoulder and squeezed in approval. "For the good of the family." She repeated. "As it has always been. Your father's family came from humble beginnings, hailing from Tusculum, in the Alban Hills. It was through favourable family alliances and successful military campaigns abroad that we rose to the rank of nobilis. And for us to stay that way, we need to keep our good fortune with family connection. Do you see why marriage is so important to this family? Why your father wants a good match for you?"

Aurelia nodded. "I understand."

Antonia hugged Aurelia to her chest. "I knew you would, my precious Aurelia Flavious Metella. I knew you would."

(Six years later)

37 BC — Boulogne

"Domina," Senna, Aurelia's young willowy body slave, called softly to her, "it is time to board the ship. The Titan will be departing shortly."

"Thank you, Senna." Aurelia replied with a small smile, unable to tear her gaze from the ship, the Titan, before her.

It was in a class of its own. A warship that spanned at least forty feet in length and narrow in width, the wooden deck towered above the port landing on which she now stood. The oars were numerous on each side and two vast sails above them. At the front of the ship was the Rosta, the ram, the ships main weapon in battle. It was a large projection at the bow of the water line and cast in dull copper.

It was a fierce sight to behold, a warship on route to darker days in unfamiliar lands. It was also the vessel that would carry Aurelia to her future husband's arms.

Gneaus Julius Aquilla's boast about his son's rising to military fame and glory had proved true.  Just a year after the completion of their betrothal contract, Quintus had been sent to Gaul to fight the Barbarian hoard and then in 47 BC he had been transferred with all his legionaries in the Legio XX Valeria Victrix, to the distant shores of Britannia. He now wages a successful campaign against the varied tribes. Not only did he rise to fame, he also achieved the title of the Legion's respected commander.

Now, with Rome making a home for itself in the south and the civil unrest dyeing down, Quintus had called for his young bride-to-be and make good on their contract. It was a long time in coming. Now at eighteen summers old, Aurelia had been impatient to start her married life. The moment was fast approaching, but it came with stipulations that were heavy to bear.

She had to uproot her life in Rome with only one slave as a companion, cross a vast ocean and start a life in a foreign land with a man she barely remembered.  The only comforting thought that she kept close to her heart was that the stay in Britannia would only be until the campaign was over or the Senate called its beloved son home.

And only the Gods knew when that would be, she thought with dismay.

Aurelia had heard of the wild land of Britannia. It had an almost mystic reputation with druids, it's heathen lands and savage people. What would she find when the ship brought her there? No civilised company, surely.

Aurelia breathed in deeply, the smell of salt water strangely calming. Tightening her dark blue travelling cloak around her, she turned and followed Senna to the plank that was the access to the ship.

Well, whatever may happen, there would only be one way to find out and that way lay west.

~TBC~

Translation:

Nobilis - During the Roman Republic, nobilis was a descriptive term of social rank meaning 'Noble', a rank higher than the plebeians of society and were treated with honour and respect.