War Prize (A Roman Britain story)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

 

A sudden change came over the war party after a scant few hours of riding. It rippled out, like the air had lightened after a much needed storm. The men laughed, jeering each other as some broke away from the group to race along the fields before doubling back and wooping loudly. It was like watching children at play.

Back on the horse with Kailen, Aurelia asked, “What is happening? What are they doing?”

“We are almost home.” Kailen replied, joy in his voice. “It lifts the spirits.”

Aurelia was overtaken with a new type of fear. They were almost to the end of their journey, and to what lies in wait for her. She didn’t have long to wait.

They crested a ridge and spied a settlement in the shallow valley. It was the largest one she had seen yet, with round thatched roofed huts along a small river bank. They spread out from the largest of the huts and a large cleared area where a fire was burning and dried strips of some sort of salted meat was hanging from wooden racks. Men, women and children were milling about, going about their business, until they spotted the war party on the horizon and a call went up.

The war party answered with a call of their own and as one, they descended the hill in a thunder of hooves that seemed to make the valley shake with it. All the inhabitants ran to greet their loved ones home, arms in the air and calling out in their language that it was almost deafening to Aurelia. The horses didn’t seem to mind, it was like they smelt home and they were safe.

Aurelia didn’t feel anything of the kind. They were getting mobbed with people, their eyes wide and curious as they looked upon her, hands reaching out to tug on her dress, almost ripping it in the process. They all wanted a souvenir of the dark haired hostage.

She wanted to bat their hands away, kick out at them and scream for them to go away, but she dared not to. No one knew how temperamental a mob could be any better than a Roman. They weren’t hurting her, not yet anyway, and Kailen was keeping a tight hold around her waist. Whether it was to make sure she wasn’t pulled from the horse, or as a warning so she wouldn’t strike out, she couldn’t say.

They finally reached the clearing in the middle and the press of people eased. The men of the war party swung down from their horses and properly greeted the crowd with hugs and rapid fire greetings, handing out the spoils of their excursions from the bags that were tied to the saddles.

A young woman with a small boy clinging to her hip sauntered out of the crowd to speak to Kailen. She was young, only a couple of years older than Aurelia. With the same dark hair and light grey eyes as Kailen, Aurelia felt it safe to assume they were siblings or cousins at the very least. She had a warm smile for him and gripped the hand he held out for her and said lilting in their language.

Aurelia wished she knew the language to know what they were saying to each other. She felt disembodied from her surroundings, like she didn’t quite fit. And it was true, she didn’t fit here in this country. Too foreign, too wild, too savage.