“Need a hand there, lass?” Fergus smiled as he walked up to her.
He was indeed finding it harder and harder not to trust the girl.
“Good morning, Fergus,” she smiled broadly. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
Her small arms lifted the heavy axe and awkwardly swung the blade down, cutting into the wood. The next time she hoisted the tool, Fergus caught the axe by the handle and gently took it from her.
“No, I insist,” he winked.
She stepped aside and the big man made fast work of the large branch.
Tully watched from a distance. Fergus, as usual, showing off. He laughed audibly and shook his head. As his gaze wandered to Aiobhell, he smiled again. He was happy that Fergus was beginning to see that she was no threat to them. There were just certain things that you knew in your heart to be true. This was one of them. Still, there was something strange about the beautiful girl. Something he couldn’t place. Perhaps he was taken with her. Maybe that’s what he was sensing.
“Tully!” Fergus yelled over to his friend. “Are you going to do any work today, lad? Any at all?”
Tully walked over to them. Aiobhell was laughing and patting Fergus on the back. It seemed the uneasiness between them had vanished.
~*~*~*~
“Guard!” Diana beckoned. The obedient soldier pushed through the door to her chamber.
“Yes, my Queen?” His eyes looked at her hesitantly.
“Antonius, is it?” she smiled.
He was the same guard from the previous several evenings. It was obvious she had complete control over him. She had finally bothered to learn his name.
“Yes, my Queen,” he replied.
Diana cocked her head to the side and smiled at him. She walked over to him and took him by the arm to her bed.
“Please,” she smiled, gesturing for him to sit.
Antonius did as he was told. He always did. Regardless, the events of the last several days had been too much for him to understand; not that he was complaining about his new role as the Queen’s ‘personal guard.’
Diana opened a drawer in her bureau and pulled out a piece of parchment. Lithely, she sauntered back to the bed and lay across it, facing Antonius. She waved the paper back and forth under his nose.
“Do you know what this is?” she said.
It was a rhetorical question. His blank stare urged her to continue.
“Well,” she said, unrolling the paper, “let’s read it, shall we?”
She looked at the dumbfounded guard and pursed her lips as she read the contents of the letter.
“’My Lord Longinus. The plan is going well. I await any further instructions you may have. Your obedient servant.’”
There was no signature, just a design of Celtic origin that Diana could not place.
“My Queen, perhaps you could discuss this matter with Longinus…”
Antonius was obviously not the smartest soldier in their legion.
Diana drew closer to him and ran her finger from his forehead to the tip of his nose.
“Antonius,” she said as if addressing a child, “Longinus cannot be bothered with such things. I think it’s best if we figure this out on our own.”
She lightly kissed his nose and laughed.
“Yes, of course, my Queen.”
“Now,” again, her hand wandered across his face and down to his chest, “I need you to listen and watch. If you see anyone delivering papers to Longinus, I want you to find out who they are and where they come from… But of course, Longinus can never know.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
His eyes smoldered with desire for the dark haired beauty. She pushed him onto his back and sat across him.
“Good… It’s nice to know we have such capable soldiers in our ranks.”
She leaned in and kissed him deeply, then rolled off of him.
“Now, leave me,” she purred.
Antonius did as he was told.
~*~*~*~
They arrived at the village center just as the sun was beginning to set. Guards had been following them for several hours. Ian had his lands well defended, there was no doubt about that. Hopefully, he was as willing to use his power to unite against the Romans.
Conor and Catlin dismounted their horses and tied them to a nearby tree. Void of their weapons, they walked towards the dark haired man they had met earlier in the woods. Earlier they had stopped to clean up. Conor was wearing a cloak pin that had been a gift from Ian’s grandfather to Conor’s grandfather. Catlin had simply washed up. As per the village’s custom, she walked behind Conor, but disobeyed the law to keep her eyes downcast. She stared defiantly at all the townspeople who whispered as she passed. The man smiled at them both and stretched out a welcome hand to Conor.
“You are Derek’s son?” he smiled good-naturedly.
“Yes. I’m Conor.”
The man clasped Conor’s arm and smiled at him.
“We respected your father, Conor. I was sorry to hear about his death at the hands of Gar and his Roman butchers.”
“Thank you,” he nodded.
The man turned to Catlin. Small gasps rose from the crowd as he put his hand out to her.
“My name is Ian… you are welcome in my village.”
“I’m Catlin,” she said as she extended her hand to him.
He took it and kissed it.
“You are an excellent archer, Catlin. While you are here, I think perhaps you could teach my men a few things,” he said in a low voice.
He winked at her. Catlin couldn’t supress a smile from lighting her face.
The leader turned his attention back to Conor.
“To what do I owe this visit?”
“I’ve come as a member of the Confederation of Tribes. We have united against the Romans, and we have come to ask you to join us.”
“I have heard of the great Confederation. I’m glad you’ve come. There will be much to discuss, but that will wait until morning. There is a festival tonight, and I wish you both to attend.”
As he said this, a beautiful girl with hair and eyes matching the leader stepped forward and took Catlin’s hand.
“I’m Aisling, Ian’s sister,” she said in a shy voice. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
She giggled and whispered to Catlin, “I’ve never seen a woman in clothing like yours… my brother says you are a warrior. Is that true?”
Her green eyes danced at the thought.
Catlin smiled at her, “Yes it is.”
She glanced at the other women as they passed. All were wearing long modest dresses of soft colouring. It must have been shocking to them to see such a bold confident woman walk into the village and speak as equals with the men.
“If you’d like, I can teach you to shoot an arrow.”
“Really?” Aisling stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t think my brother would approve.”
“He doesn’t have to know,” Catlin said conspiritorially.
This happy place might be just what she needed to rid her mind of the worrying thoughts of Conor.
Ian and Conor followed the women to three large huts at the center of the walled village. Ian showed Conor to one and bid him adieu. Conor sat on the chair in the corner of the cozy quarters. Inky darkness began to creep into the room as he tried to push the thoughts of his argument with Catlin out of his weary head. Now that she was angry with him, it would be impossible to keep close enough to her to protect her. He would apologize. As much as her words had hurt him, he would take the blame. If she would let him back in he would keep watch from a short distance. He walked back out to the chilly night air and pulled his cloak tightly around him.
Catlin sat in her hut waiting for Aisling to return. The other woman seemed younger than Catlin, but in truth she was several years older. Aisling had gone to fetch a dress for Catlin to wear, insisting she would be the most beautiful one at the festival. In a pained moment, Catlin realized that Aisling reminded her of Amalia. Sighing heavily she walked to the door of the hut. She leaned out the door and looked toward the other quarters. Conor was leaning up against a nearby tree staring into the distance. Her heavy heart shuddered at the sight of him and she quickly withdrew into the room. It pained her to see him, knowing the feelings she thought they might have shared were not there. Her reverie was broken by Aisling bursting into the room.
“I found the perfect dress for you!” she said excitedly. “Look, it will match your eyes.”
An hour later Ian appeared outside the guests’ rooms. A billowing dark emerald cloak hung over his broad shoulders. He clapped Conor heartily on the shoulder.
“We will feast and drink and dance tonight!” he smiled. “Already many of the ladies have asked about you. It seems you’ll have no lack of company tonight!” he laughed at the somber faced Conor.
“What is the occasion?” Conor asked.
“It is our yearly festival… The older townsfolk think it’s high time I got married, so they intend to help me pick out a bride,” Ian said a bit remorsefully.
Conor smiled at this, remembering his arranged marriage with Molly and how uncomfortable it makes one feel to be betrothed to someone they do not love.
“It sounds like you could use some ale,” Conor laughed.
“Perhaps….” Ian stepped away from Conor, “Will you excuse me? I’ll be right back.”
Without waiting for a reply he walked off toward a sentry standing in the clearing.
Conor turned his attention back to Catlin’s door. The dark haired Aisling stepped out into the starlit night. Behind her followed Catlin. Conor’s breath stopped in his throat. Catlin walked over to him as Aisling ran to her brother.
The dress was of blue fabric and accented every curve of her body. Catlin’s long hair had been brushed out until it reflected the moonlight. Blue ribbons weaved in and out of her hair like waves on a sandy beach. She was beautiful.
“Sweet Brigit,” he said softly.
“I look ridiculous, don’t I,” she said, slightly tugging at the neckline of the dress.
“Cat, you look - “ Before Conor could break through the wall between them with words of adoration, Ian stepped up swiftly.
“Catlin, you look exquisite. I’ve never seen such beauty,” Ian said sincerely.
Blushing at the compliment, she smiled at him, “Thank you.”
“Come with me,” he said taking her hand, “Let us lead off the dancing.”
“Ian, I’m… I’ve never really… danced,” she admitted.
“Well I’m sure someone as precise as you are with a bow and arrow would be equally as agile on her feet.”
With that he took her hand and they ran off. Conor forlornly watched them leave.
Aisling stood by quietly. Her small voice broke through his thoughts.
“Excuse me, my Lord, may I lead you to the dance?”
Conor, who had been completely oblivious of the girl standing beside him, turned to face her. Her eyes were downcast, set at the ground next to his feet.
“Aisling, is it?” he said softly.
“Yes, my Lord,” she nodded shyly, never raising her eyes.
“Conor… call me Conor.”
He lifted her chin up with his hand. The girl blushed and stammered.
“Shall we go to the dance, C-Conor?”
“Yes,” he smiled, “my Lady.”
He offered her his arm and they made their way to where the music was playing.
~*~*~*~
Ian patiently taught Catlin each new step. She laughed cheerily and whirled to the music. The ruler’s attention never strayed from her.
“You amaze me,” Ian complimented as they sat down to rest in a shadowy corner. “You can fight men single handedly, yet still win their hearts.”
Catlin let a wry smile cross her lips. Not quite knowing how to follow that statement, she changed the subject.
“I think I’m making enemies with the women in the village for taking up your time.”
She nodded her head to a large group of women and girls who were not very subtly watching every move the leader made.
“Oh, think nothing of that. Before my father died, I one of the girls in the village was betrothed to me. After he died I saw no reason to go through with the marriage… I did not love her.”
“And that did not go well with her family?”
“No, it certainly did not.” He laughed. “My advisors wish me to get married before winter comes. They say I must choose a bride this evening.”
Catlin began to stand up, “Then I should go…”
Ian scrambled to his feet and took her arm, “An excellent idea… I shall go too.”
Catlin smiled, “Then where are we going?”
“I believe I need archery lessons.”
~*~*~*~
Conor drank his ale a good distance from where Catlin and Ian were talking. He had tried to dance, to enjoy the evening, but he couldn’t help but keep watching Catlin. Her silhouette in the firelight as she and Ian laughed and danced. Many of the village women had wanted to dance with him. Brothers, fathers walked up to him and asked if he would like to dance with their sisters, daughters. Conor politely refused each one. Soon word traveled around the village not to bother with the glum stranger. He sat alone, trying to sort out the jealousy from the concern. Though Ian’s family had been allies with Conor’s family, he still did not know Ian, or completely trust him.
Aisling approached him demurely. “I apologize for being so forward,” she said keeping her eyes to the ground. “But you have not danced a single dance. I was worried that you are not enjoying the evening.” Bravely, she looked him in the eyes.
Conor flashed a grin. “It’s not that. I think I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Oh…” the girl’s eyes fell back to the grass.
“Would you like to dance with me?” Conor offered his arm.
“Yes, very much.”
Her face lit up and she smiled broadly as he led her to where the music was loudest.
~*~*~*~
As they walked toward the training grounds, Catlin caught a glimpse of Conor out of the corner of her eye. He was dancing happily with Aisling. The girl had a dewy look on her face that could only mean one thing: she was under his spell. She sighed audibly.
“Is something wrong?” Ian asked.
“No,” she smiled, “It’s been a long journey.”
“Would you rather go and rest?”
“No, no. I’m looking forward to besting you,” she laughed. Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the field.
~*~*~*~
Conor saw them leave. As the music stopped, he took the opportunity to end the dance. “Aisling, thank you for a lovely evening…”
“Of course,” she smiled, shyly biting her bottom lip.
“Goodnight,” he said kissing her cheek.
Within a moment, he was gone, following Ian and Catlin into the night.
“Goodnight,” she nearly gasped.
~*~*~*~
In the inky darkness, the targets were hard to see, but Catlin still hit the mark with deadly precision.
“Well done,” Ian clapped.
“Now, let’s see how you do,” she challenged.
Ian notched the arrow in the bow and took his aim. He loosed the arrow, which hit the edge of the target, almost a foot away from Catlin’s center mark.
“Not bad,” she said. “You have good form. It’s just your aim that needs work.”
“Well…” he was humbled, “Can you show me the proper way to aim?”
“Of course,” she readied another arrow and pulled back on the bow. “Come here.”
She gestured him toward her right shoulder with her chin. “Can you see how this is lined up?”
He stood a breath away from her.
“Here, take the bow.”
Ian placed his left hand on top of hers to take the bow. With his right arm, he reached around Catlin’s shoulder to meet her other hand. Together, they shot the arrow. It hit directly next to Catlin’s earlier mark.
“Good job,” she turned facing him.
Ian dropped the bow and leaned in to kiss her. Catlin pushed him away gently.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“It’s alright… I… I should go. Goodnight Ian.”
“Goodnight Catlin,” he smiled warmly at her.
As she turned and walked away from him, she heard a twig snap ahead. She could barely make out the figure of Conor, walking quickly toward his hut.
~*~*~*~
Catlin awoke to the sound of shouting. She jumped up and grabbed her sword, heading out the door. The noise was coming from Conor’s quarters. She rushed in. He was having another nightmare, thrashing about in his bed and dripping with sweat. She rushed to his side and gently stroked his hair.
“Conor, wake up. Conor…”
She wasn’t getting through to him. She spoke louder, “Conor-“
He bolted upright and grabbed her wrists. A dazed look played across his face. His eyes seemed hollow, tortured, somehow. Several short, shallow gasps escaped his throat.
“Conor?” Catlin worriedly questioned.
He let go of her wrists. His grip on them left red marks.
“Conor, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get the healer.”
“No…” he breathed closing his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“What is happening to you?” she questioned, her eyes filling with tears. “Conor you’re scaring me. Please tell me…”
“Cat, it’s nothing…” he looked away.
“Conor-“
“It’s got nothing to do with you.”
His voice was cold. He didn’t even look her in the eyes.
“I… I was just worried, that’s all,” she managed.
“You have no need to be,” he said quietly. “Please, just leave.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She got up from his side and ran out of the room.
~*~*~*~
Fergus stood at the entrance to the Sanctuary and gazed at the night sky. It was going to be a cold winter, by the look of it. He stretched and looked towards where the night guards were keeping their watch. They nodded respectfully to the leader. Leader. It was hard for him to accept this new, albeit temporary role. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit. Yet with Conor gone, he had to be the one to make decisions. The warrior much preferred settling things with a blade, not with discussion. In battle things were so much clearer.
Now, he was responsible for the lives of everyone in the Sanctuary. Their numbers had grown larger in the year since they had lived there. With numbers, there came more disputes. People from many tribes had sought refuge here. Each with their own traditions and customs. Sometimes, it made it difficult to live side by side. Yet, there was still one thing that had united them all. Each person had been driven out of their home by the Romans. Each person had suffered loss at the hands of the invaders. Even when they seemed to be at odds with each other, in the end, they all knew who the real enemy was.
He walked back towards the center of the village. He found Aiobhell sitting outside her hut near a small fire. She was quietly whispering ancient words. Fergus stood at a distance as to not disturb the girl. She was a tough one to figure out. While he now felt certain they had nothing to fear from her, his curiosity was still not appeased. What had driven her from her land, so far from here? The girl’s eyes always had a sadness to them. He knew that look. It was the look he had seen on Conor’s face when Conor had found him in the smoldering ruins of his father’s keep. It was the look that Catlin’s eyes had mirrored when she thought of her sister. It was the look Tully’s eyes bore when he recounted what little he still remembered of his family. It was the look of everyone who lived in the Sanctuary. They all had suffered such terrible loss.
He cleared his throat deliberately.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he began.
“No, not at all,” she smiled at him. “Come, sit down,” she patted the ground next to her.
Fergus walked over and took a seat next to her.
“You’re up awfully early,” he nodded at her.
“So are you,” she laughed quietly.
“Aye,” he smiled.
For awhile, neither spoke, just sat in the stillness of the early morning.
~*~*~*~
Catlin sat on a log on the outskirts of the walled village. Tears rolled down her cheeks in steady streams and short sobs shuddered from her gut. She never cried like this, but she couldn’t help it. In the year that she had known Conor, she had never seen him like this. His voice had been so cold. He had put up a barrier between them. He had shut her out.
She knew that he wasn’t in love with her. She could accept that. But now, now everything was different. Their friendship, which Catlin had always relied on and cherished, lay in shambles and she didn’t know why.
“Catlin?”
It was Ian. He had walked up behind her.
“Are you alright?”
There was worry in his voice. He quickly walked around to face her and knelt down directly in front of her. He took her hands in his.
“It can’t be as terrible as all that…” he said softly.
His hands went to her face and he gently brushed the tears away from her cheeks.
“I’m fine,” she sniffed, trying to smile.
“Liar,” he smiled. “Now, do you want to talk about it?”
He moved over to the log and sat down next to her.
“Not really,” she said, wiping the remaining tears from her face.
“Sure, sure.” He again took her hands in his. “Catlin, I’m sorry about last night.”
“Oh, no… There’s no need. I just wasn’t expecting…”
He smiled, encouraged by the admission.
“I did have a lovely evening… and my marksmanship has improved!” he laughed.
A broad smile spread across her face.
“I’m glad I could help.”
He studied her face for several moments. Catlin felt slightly ill at ease with the stare. Blushing slightly, she looked away from the inquiring emerald gaze.
“I should go back…” she said as she got up.
“Let me walk with you,” he stood up quickly and offered his arm.
She took his arm and he led her back to the center of the stead. In the quiet early morning, none of the village were awake. They walked in silence. From time to time he would look at her and smile.
When they reached her quarters, he stopped and leaned casually against the wall of the little hut.
“He’s a damn fool,” Ian said softly looking at her intently.
“Oh, it’s not that… I mean it’s not…” she stammered.
“Just tell me to shut up and mind my own business,” he said looking down disappointedly.
She kissed him on the cheek and went inside quickly.
~*~*~*~
Longinus stared at the door. He waited patiently. After all, he had nothing but time. The door eventually opened and Diana made her entrance.
“Longinus,” she said in honeyed tones.
“I sent for you two hours ago, Diana.”
He walked over to where she was standing. She turned her back on him.
“Yes, you did. But you didn’t say ‘please,’” she said simply, running her fingers through her hair.
He stepped up behind her and kissed her neck.
“Very well, then. Please…” Longinus whispered into her ear.
“That’s better,” she said turning to face him.
Diana draped her arms around his shoulders.
“Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” she smiled.
“I have to say, Diana. I find your new willingness to comply with my wishes a little… puzzling.”
The centurion stroked her back. Why did he still find her so desirable?
“Well, my love. We both want the same thing. It just seems easier… and… more enjoyable… if we work together,” she purred seductively.
~*~*~*~
Aisling walked into Catlin’s chamber. The archer was sitting on her bed. Her arms were crossed on her lap and she was staring off at nothing in particular.
“Catlin, will you be joining us for our morning meal?” she asked smiling.
“No… I… I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to try to get a little rest.”
The dark haired woman walked over to Catlin’s bed and sat down, facing her.
“Are you alright?” her eyes were full of concern for her new friend.
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just been a long journey,” Catlin forced herself to smile.
“I think you should come to the meal,” Aisling looked down and blushed slightly. “My brother fancies you, I think,” she said in a conspiratory whisper.
“Your brother is a kind host,” Catlin said quietly. “Send my greetings.”
“Maybe later I could show you around our village?” Aisling offered, standing up.
“That would be nice,” Catlin said sincerely.
~*~*~*~
Tully sat in the familiar tree. This morning his thoughts wandered, as they often had these past few days, to Aiobhell. He sat pondering when he heard the rustle of leaves beneath him. Aiobhell slipped into his view. She paced back and forth nervously. Tully was about to call out her name and reveal himself, but something warned him not to. It was obvious she was waiting for someone, he just needed to see who it was.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the leaves part in the near distance. Through the shimmering leaves he could just make out the top of a helmet. A Roman patrol. In disbelief he stared down at Aiobhell. She couldn’t be a spy. He refused to believe it. Before he knew what he was doing he was at the foot of the tree grabbing her arm.
“Tully!” she gasped in surprise.
“Aiobhell, Romans are coming!” he whispered urgently, pulling her back towards the Sanctuary. As they retreated to safety, her head kept turning towards the woods, as if she was still waiting for someone.
~*~*~*~
Conor splashed cool water on his face. Droplets clung to his eyelashes, obscuring his vision. He closed his eyes and again dowsed his face. Rivulets ran down his neck and chest. He wished he could rinse away the pain and jealousy that ached his heart as well. The grim reality of the situation hung over every minute: Catlin was going to die. Somehow. Soon. And by Longinus’ hand.
Instead of keeping her close, he had pushed her away. It was seeing her with Ian last night. The sight of her laughing in his arms… But there was nothing he could do to change what could not be changed. It had all started out as an untruth. For Catlin’s own safety, she needed to continue to believe that it was Claire in his dreams.
Rising he walked over to a small cluster of standing stones by the stream. Hundreds of years before, Ian’s ancestors had carved ancient spirals into the soft stone. Years of wind and rain had made them barely visible. Conor’s finger traced a pattern. It had no beginning and no end. It simply was.
“I wish I knew what to do,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how to prepare for this attack when I don’t know where it will come from.” In his heart he called to his ancestors and to the ancient ones who had created the land. He begged them for help.
~*~*~*~
In the early morning light, someone heard Conor’s request.
~*~*~*~
Fergus’ eyebrow arched suspiciously.
“You think she was waiting for the Romans?” he questioned the young magician.
“I don’t know Fergus… I mean, there they were… they were so close to finding the Sanctuary…” Tully said with definite worry. “But I just can’t believe it was her. She can’t be a traitor.”
The big man stood facing the younger. He placed a strong hand upon the youth’s shoulder.
“I don’t believe it either. There’s got to be some other explanation,” Fergus agreed.
~*~*~*~
“Ian is ready to meet with you now.” The voice belonged to the rough man with the scar on his face, Colin.
“Thank you,” Conor said nodding his head. As he made his way past Colin, the man caught his arm. The brute leaned in and spoke in a gravelly soft voice.
“You make sure that wanton girl of yours stays clear of Ian. He does not need that kind of distraction. The Council does not approve, and you do not want to upset them.”
“Are you threatening me?” Conor said with a defiant stare.
“Let’s just call it a warning…” he growled as he walked away.
~*~*~*~
“Aiobhell? Are you in there?” Tully called out softly. He could hear stifled sobs emerging from her room.
He entered the little chamber without waiting for an answer. He found her sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands.
“Aiobhell?” he asked again.
Red tear-stained eyes peered at him as she moved her hands from her face.
“Oh Tully,” she said softly. “There is just so much sorrow…” The voice was that of someone older. A parent, a grandparent. A wise woman speaking of her children and the painful mistakes they would make. It was the voice of an ancestor.
He stood dumbfounded. She held her hand out to him. He took it and sat beside her in silence.
“What is it?” Concern pooled in his brown eyes as he finally managed to speak.
A sad smile played across her lips. “Everyone here… what they’ve lost… what they might loose…”
“What you’ve lost,” Tully finished.
“Yes, but it’s more than that.” She turned toward him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Tully, tell me about your family.”
“You know my family. Fergus, Conor, Catlin. I’ve told you about them.”
“No,” she said in a voice nearly a whisper. “I mean your mother and father. Your brothers and sisters.”
The young man’s face changed into an indeterminate expression. His eyes turned stony and his jaw set.
“I don’t remember much,” he said, not daring to look into her eyes. “I remember being small. My mother used to sing me songs. I don’t really remember them… I remember playing with my older brother and my little sister. I remember the beautiful trees that lined our village.”
“Happy memories all,” she smiled.
His eyes darkened as he continued. “I remember the ship. I remember mother being sick. I remember the storm… I remember the cold water… I remember death. I remember seeing my little sister’s body floating in the water,” his voice began to crack. “And then there was a hand pulling me up into a boat.” A tear journeyed down his cheek. “It was Galen.”
“He saved you.”
“Yes, he did. I was terrified. His skin was so pale, and I didn’t understand his language. But I remember knowing that he was good, that he saved me.” A smile replaced the pain on his face.
“And slowly he became like a father to you.”
“Yes, he did…”
Tully sat silently for a moment, then summoned his courage.
“Aiobhell, what were you doing outside the Sanctuary this morning?”
The girl looked down at the earth. Her face was hidden from Tully’s gaze by a cascade of her hair.
“I was just there to find some peace…” she whispered.
“But the Romans…” Tully couldn’t stop his hesitant voice from sounding the accusation.
Aiobhell turned her head towards him. Her brow wrinkled and her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“I’m not a traitor… I would never do anything to jeopardize your safety,” her voice pleaded.
“I know… but the soldiers-“ he tried to explain.
Aiobhell stood up and walked away from Tully. She ran her hand through her tangled hair.
“Tully, I would never hurt you or Fergus. I would never betray you. You have to know that,” her voice was low and she did not face him. “If you think that I’m endangering the Sanctuary or Conor and Catlin’s position with Ian’s tribe, then please just tell me.” She turned again to face him. “Tell me and I’ll go.”
“Aiobhell, I…” But he didn’t know what to say. Slowly, Tully stood and walked towards the cloth flaps covering the entrance to the little room. He turned back to face her just as he was leaving. A small smile lit his face.
She returned the smile, with a slight melancholy look in her eyes.
“I’ll see you at supper,” he spoke softly.
She said nothing, just nodded her head yes.
~*~*~*~
Ian sat at the stone table across from Conor.
“I trust you slept well?” he asked his guest hospitably.
“Yes. Thank you for your generosity…” Conor replied. He forced himself to continue with what he really wanted to ask. “Was your evening successful?”
“Do you mean did I choose a bride?” Ian chuckled. “No… I’m not about to let them rush me into that.”
Silence followed. It was obvious there were more pressing things on Ian’s mind. The dark-haired leader stood up and walked back to the entry of the small room. He leaned up against the clay wall, his back to his guest.
“It’s an ugly business, this,” he said dejectedly.
“What is?” Conor asked.
“Alliances, Romans, all of it.” Ian turned on his heel and walked back to the table. “I never wanted to be the leader… But those Roman bastards killed my father.” The pain in his voice was evident.
“I didn’t want to lead either… They killed my family too.” Conor stood up and clasped Ian on the shoulder. “But if we unite together, we can drive them off the island. We can take back what they’ve stolen from us.”
“I want to believe you. I want to join the Confederation. But my people are not warriors, Conor. They are farmers.”
“I know it’s much to risk… but believe me, the Romans won’t let your people farm in peace,” he paused briefly. When he spoke again, there was a resigned sorrow in his voice. “There is a Roman named Longinus. He is evil. He will enslave your people.” Conor looked Ian in the eye. “Trust me, Ian… Our fathers were allies. If you join the Confederation we are one step closer to ridding ourselves of the Romans forever.”
Ian sighed heavily. “You’ll need to bring this before our Council. They convene in six days.”
“Thank you, Ian. You won’t regret this.”
~*~*~*~
Catlin and Aisling had walked most of the village. Every path, every tree, every person had a story. Aisling told them well. Catlin felt a pang in her heart. She felt the same way about the Sanctuary. She wished they were there now. She missed the support of her friends.
They ran into Conor as he was leaving the small meeting room.
“Catlin,” Conor said catching her arm, “I need to talk to you.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said quietly.
“Thank you,” he said softly as he walked to his quarters.
“That sounds important,” Aisling said. “I will see you at supper, then?”
“Yes, of course,” she smiled back.
~*~*~*~
“Conor?” Catlin called before entering his room.
“Come in, Cat.”
She stepped through the entryway. His tortured gaze peered at her. The chill of the early evening air had seeped into the little hut. Catlin hugged her cloak around her and sat on a small chair.
“It’s getting colder,” she said, futile conversation grinding to a halt.
Silence hung thick between them like fog on a dewy morning.
“Ian wants to join the Confederation, but he needs the support of his Council.”
“That’s good news,” she said quietly.
“They meet in six days…” Conor couldn’t look at her. “Catlin, I think it’s best if you go back to the Sanctuary.”
“What?” her eyes opened wide.
“I’ll take you back and then return for the meeting.”
“Conor, this is ridiculous,” she stood up and walked over to him. “Why are you doing this? What are you so angry about?” Tears again filled her eyes, but she would not let them slip down her face.
“Cat, I’m not doing this-“
“You are shutting me out!” she took his hands in hers and pleaded with him. “I know. I know you are still having dreams. Why won’t you let me help you?”
“Catlin, those dreams… they…” he stammered. His eyes were glassy. He shook his head and turned his back on her. “You can’t help me.”
“There was a time when I could tell you anything… and you could tell me too,” she said sadly shaking her head. “What’s changed since then, what?”
Stony silence was his response. Catlin started out of the room, anxious to get away from him.
“Cat…” he said without turning.
“What is it?” she replied hollowly, just inside the doorway.
Conor turned to face her piercing stare. “We need Ian’s people to join us. This will give us a foothold in the North… It’s vitally important that they join us.”
“I know that Conor,” she could sense where Conor was heading.
“I saw you with him last night,” he admitted. “So did the rest of the village…”
“And you think my being here is endangering the Confederation?” She closed her eyes.
“What?” It was Ian. He had walked in the room moments before.
Catlin turned to face him at the sound of his voice.
“There’s talk,” Conor said.
Ian had placed his hand on Catlin’s shoulder. “Conor, that is between my people and I. What I choose to do is my own business.”
Catlin stared blankly at the two men.
“And what I choose to do is mine as well,” she stalked out of the room.
Speechless, the men stared at the doorway.
“Ian, this union is more important than anyone’s feelings… It’s more important than any one of us. If Cat’s being here is endangering the decision of the Council, then it’s best that she goes,” Conor said plainly.
“Conor, I appreciate your worry, but her being here is not a problem. The Council will make a fair decision. They won’t be swayed by town gossip,” Ian scoffed.
“You may be willing to risk that, but I’m not.” Conor said starting to walk past him. Ian caught his arm.
“I think the one who has a problem with her being here is you.” Ian stared him straight in the eyes.
Conor shrugged off his hand and went out to find her.
~*~*~*~
“My Lord,” Antonius bowed his head as he held the parchment out for the immortal.
“Ah, good. More news,” Longinus smiled taking the paper from the soldier’s hand. “Thank you, that will be all.”
Antonius again nodded and left the room.
Longinus watched him go. It was the soldier who had been much in the service of Diana lately. He figured him a spy, but he didn’t particularly mind. Let Diana have her little intrigues. She had no idea what was really going on.
With relish he broke the seal on the paper and read the news from his obedient servant.
“My Lord Longinus, I have become close to the leaders. There is
much to discuss, but I wish to do it personally. If it pleases you,
meet me tonight. I believe you know where. Your obedient servant.”
Longinus smiled. Purposely, he set the parchment down on a small
table in the throne room. Antonius was not terribly smart, so he
needed to leave the paper where he could best find it. After all,
this was one note that Diana would find far too intriguing to resist.
~*~*~*~
“Catlin?”
Conor stepped into the chamber without waiting for a reply. He found her sitting on the bed rubbing her neck with her right hand. Her eyes were closed. She did not hear him enter the room.
“Cat?” he said again, slightly louder.
Her eyes jumped open. The look of surprise that registered briefly turned to a glazed expression.
“What do you want Conor?” she sighed wearily.
He walked over to her side and knelt down in front of her.
“Catlin,” he said taking her hands in his, “You have to believe me when I tell you there’s a reason for all of this.”
She looked away from him. A slight breath escaped her lips and she shook her head slowly.
“Tell me, then. Tell me the reason.” Her gaze again rested on his.
“I… I can’t.” His brow furrowed.
Catlin tried to pull away from him. He sat down beside her and refused to let her go.
“Conor, I will die to protect you, to protect the Confederation. I am loyal to you and the cause… but I can’t bear this. I can’t be your friend if you can’t trust me.”
Conor leaned in towards her and rested his forehead against hers. He released her hands and stroked her hair.
“Catlin, I do trust you… But I need you to trust me…” he said softly. “I need you to follow me without asking why… I need you to believe in me.”
“Conor…” she sighed. “You know I believe in you, but why won’t you let me help you?”
He stood up and walked toward the doorway.
“You can help me best by not asking why.”
He waited for a response. He turned back to face her.
“Fine,” she said quietly, “I’ll leave tomorrow… But I’m going alone.”
“Catlin-“
“Conor! I’ll do what you ask for the Confederation… but I’m perfectly capable of getting back to the Sanctuary by myself.”
“We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” he said as he left.
~*~*~*~
After supper she slipped back to her room and waited. Waited for darkness. Waited for the others to go to sleep. She pulled her cloak around her and thought of Longinus. She would see him tonight. In the shadows she listed to the sound of the simple people going to sleep. At times she didn’t know how long she could stand it. These people were so lost. Soon, though. Soon they would unite with Longinus or be destroyed.
~*~*~*~
Catlin packed up her bag. She would leave in the morning - with or without saying goodbye to Conor. There was no need for him to go back with her. She knew Fergus would be furious at her for leaving Conor alone, but she would deal with him later. She stepped out into the darkening night. A cold wind was blowing. Winter was upon them. Catlin couldn’t remember it ever getting so cold so early in the season.
“Catlin?” It was Ian. He was returning to his room.
“Hi,” she smiled.
“You’re going?” He stopped and walked towards her, shaking his head. “You don’t have to go.”
“I know,” she smiled. “But Conor’s right. I don’t want to do anything to endanger the Confederation.”
“You believe that strongly?”
“I do, yes,” she shivered.
He put an arm around her shoulder and led her back towards her chambers.
“Come on, you’ll catch your death.”
~*~*~*~
“My Queen,” Antonius bowed before the silken haired woman. He held out the parchment that earlier he had delivered to Longinus.
Diana sauntered over to him. He couldn’t help but notice how the purple silk of her gown hugged every curve of her as she moved.
“Did you see who delivered it?”
“Yes, my Queen. He was one of Longinus’ secret guard. But I don’t think he wrote the message.”
“Oh… what a brilliant deduction,” she said. The sarcasm was lost on the soldier. She took the paper from him and unrolled it.
Reading the contents to herself a small smile crept across her face. Her eyes widened and she tossed her black locks with a quick move of her head.
“Get our horses ready. We’re going on a little trip.”
~*~*~*~
Fergus finished meeting with a small group of the Sanctuary’s best fighters. They had been discussing strategies for better protection of their enclave during the winter. Hunting parties had been gathering supplies for several days. Winter was early and it looked as if she was angry as well.
The big man stretched as he walked out of the little meeting room. He headed toward Tully’s chamber. The lad had been very quiet after his visit to confront Aiobhell. In his heart, Fergus didn’t want to believe that she was in league with the Romans. But his head told him to be suspicious. He had caught himself surreptitiously glancing at the girl’s arms, searching for the brand of Longinus.
He got to Tully’s room and found him asleep. Careful not to wake him, he left the lad’s room and walked over to Aiobhell’s quarters. He called out her name twice before entering. There was no reply.
The room was tidy and there was no sign that she had been there in several hours. No embers glowed in the fire pit. Fergus put his hand on the pieces of burnt wood. They were cold.
“Sweet Brigit, Lass. You’re not making it easy for us to believe you.”
Raising his eyebrow and shaking his head he walked back to his room.
~*~*~*~
Conor now knew the dreams would come. Each night he closed his eyes with a troubled heart. Each night he drifted off to sleep trying desperately to plan how he could avoid the unavoidable ending. As his eyes drew closed he readied himself for his nightly battle.
~*~*~*~
Catlin couldn’t remember how it was she ended up in the council meeting room of Ian’s tribe. The stinging night wind howled outside the tiny building. She felt unease and drew her sword. The hissing of metal seemed somewhat loud… too loud. Nervously, she paced about the room. Waiting.
The approaching sound of footsteps drew her attention back toward the door. Conor rushed in.
“Catlin, you have to get out of here.” His voice was panicked. He ran over to her and pulled her toward the door.
Catlin could feel every small bump and ridge of his hand on her arm. Her senses were overly active.
“Conor, what’s wrong?”
“Please, Catlin. You have to get out of here,” his brown eyes pleaded with hers.
Without a word, she followed him out into the night. From a distance she could see a man in a brown robe approaching. It was Longinus.
“Go… GO!!!” Conor yelled. He pushed her towards what seemed the escape route, away from the approaching Roman.
“Conor! Come on!” She tried to pull him with her. He pushed her away.
“Catlin, please… Do as I say. Go!”
Catlin didn’t want to leave, but the order had been direct and she knew for once not to question it. She ran and tried not to look back.
She heard the sound of Conor battling Longinus. Still she did not turn. Then the sound of someone crashing into something. A small groan. Heavy hearted, she recognized the sound as Conor. Her feet inexplicably began to slow. It was as if she did not control her own body. She heard someone approaching. Then a cold hand grabbed her arm. Finally, she turned. The pallid face and fetid breath of the 400 year-old man were there in front of her.
Smiling, Longinus twisted her arms behind her back. Catlin writhed to free herself, but it was no use. His strength was too great.
Longinus pushed her back to where Conor was slowly staggering to his feet. A determined expression played across the prince’s face as he steadied his sword in an attack position.
In a single swift moment Catlin felt herself being lifted into the air. Then in a blinding flash of pain she was hurled into the side of the small building she had been in moments before.
It was all she could do to keep conscious. Her body cried out and throbbed. Catlin felt a wet stinging in her eyes. She brought her hand to her face and wiped away the blood that was seeping from a gash above her temple.
She saw Conor try to run Longinus through, but his attack was slow and clumsy. She thought she heard the centurion laugh as he knocked Conor to the ground.
Longinus turned back toward Catlin and pulled her to her feet by her hair. She whimpered in pain, but could no longer struggle. It took all her energy to fight off the inky darkness beckoning to take over her vision.
“Longinus,” Conor’s feeble voice cracked. “Longinus!”
She again felt herself being lifted into the air. Catlin braced herself for the next blow. A moment or two went by before she realized that she was still held aloft by Longinus. Slowly she felt herself being lowered to the ground.
In a brilliant flash of light someone appeared between she and Conor. The being was neither male nor female. The voice it spoke with was Catlin’s own, and in her mind, but the words were clear.
“Longinus… This spell is broken. You will not come again to these people in their dreams. I will not allow you to use our ways to carry out your deeds.”
Catlin felt and heard her heart pounding. She heard Conor’s heartbeat. She heard the quiet breath of those sleeping in the village. She heard the quick palpitations of a rabbit. She heard the fluttering of owl’s wings. The groan of a tree branch. She heard everything around her. It washed over her in a roar.
~*~*~*~
Diana yawned wearily. She and Antonius had been tracking Longinus for over three hours, but still, they hadn’t yet caught up with him. The Queen was not stupid. She was sure Longinus knew what they were up to. It had been unfortunate that she had not chosen a smarter soldier, but she wasn’t in the position to be picky this time.
“All right Longinus, you win,” she yelled out in the darkness.
“My lady!” Antonius whispered sharply. “He will hear us!”
Antonius was smart enough to know that Longinus was not as forgiving as Diana.
The immortal appeared out of the brush to Diana’s left. A satisfied smile played across his face.
“You’re a little too late, Diana. You’ve missed her.”
Diana stared at him. Her mouth opened, as if to speak, then closed. She held out her hand. Longinus took it and helped her off her horse.
“I don’t understand why you feel the need to keep things from me,” she said placing her hands on his chest.
“Because, my love, you are only looking out for yourself… If it suited you, you would ally with Conor in a heartbeat.”
“It’s impossible to lock me out, Longinus. I know you too well.”
“We’ll see.”
~*~*~*~
Catlin gasped for air. She sat up straight in the bed. The roar still lingered in her ears. Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, she stumbled outside. Seconds later, Conor emerged from his room coughing.
Her eyes found his in the night. He quickly crossed over to where she had slumped to her knees.
“The dream?” he asked quietly.
“I was there… I felt- it was…” she couldn’t continue, just exhaled a shaky breath.
Conor knelt down next to her and placed his left arm around her shoulder. With the back of his right hand he stroked her cheek.
“Shh. I know… I know.”
Conor had become used to the dreams. It was easier for him to return to reality.
“Come on.” He helped her up and walked her back into her room. They sat down on the bed.
“It’s over,” he said squeezing her hand.
“Conor, what was that? What just happened to us?” she gasped, her eyes wide.
“Whatever it was, I think it’s over now,” he smiled. Genuine relief registered on his face. “Now go back to sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” He leaned her back on the blankets and stroked her hair.
Her heart slowed it’s racing and as her eyes fluttered closed she could barely make out Conor’s figure standing at the doorway. He cast a watchful eye on her then disappeared into the night. Sleep took her and it was void of dreams.
~*~*~*~
Tully woke in the early morning hours, determined to find out the truth about Aiobhell. He rose and stretched. The cold night had seeped into his room and his body was stiff.
Donning a woolen cloak, he slipped silently into the frigid outside air. Vapor from his breath floated in front of him. As he turned to head toward Aiobhell’s chambers, he spotted someone approaching him from the Sanctuary’s entrance.
As the figure drew closer, he recognized it as Aiobhell. She stopped a short distance away and huddled in the folds of her cloak.
“Tully…” she said in a calm, quiet voice.
“Aiobhell, where were you?” He hated be so accusatory, but he had to know the truth.
“I was just out walking,” was her simple reply.
There was a thick silence between them. For some strange reason, Tully couldn’t bring himself to question her any further. For the second time in as many days, he changed the subject.
“Fergus and I will be leading a scouting party later today. Would you like to join us?”
“I would like that,” she smiled. Without another word she walked by him, touching him gently on the shoulder and disappeared into the wakening village.
~*~*~*~
Catlin woke as the first light danced on the horizon. Her mind reeled from the events of the evening before. She desperately wanted to talk to Conor. How had they come to share the same dream? What had all of it meant? She now knew why Conor’s dreams had been so vivid and hard to shake. In her sleep she could smell the smoldering fire in the building. She could feel the sharp pain of being thrown into the wall. Her scalp stung from where Longinus had pulled her by her hair to her feet. How had all of this happened?
There would be no answers today. If she was going to leave, she had to do it now. As much as she wanted to talk to Conor, she knew if she did she wouldn’t leave. Quickly and resolutely, she gathered her belongings and headed out into the sharp cold morning and headed to the stable.
“Catlin?” It was Aisling. The girl was walking through the small square by the stable when she caught sight of Catlin tying her pack to her horse.
“Good morning Aisling,” she smiled back at her. In a swift moment, she pulled herself into the saddle.
“Where are you going?” Aisling’s brow was slightly furrowed.
“I’m going back.”
“No,” the girl sighed disappointedly. “Why?”
“It’s better that I go. The council is uncomfortable with me being here. I can’t afford to endanger the Confederation.”
Aisling’s eyes darkened. “I hate the council,” she spoke in a quiet voice. “To them I’m no better than a sow. I’m just a thing for them to barter and trade. I have no rights and no respect… Just because I’m a woman.”
Catlin looked at her with a small smile. “Does Ian know how you feel?”
“My brother sees me as nothing but his weak little sister.”
“Tell him. He might surprise you.”
Catlin turned her horse and started off towards the village gate.
“Safe journey,” Aisling called after her.
Catlin stopped and turned back to face the dark-haired Princess.
“Things can change, Aisling. Don’t give up hope.”
In a moment she had disappeared into the misty morning. Aisling watched her leave and with a heavy sigh she walked back to her room, hoping that what Catlin said was true.
~*~*~*~
When Conor woke, he smiled. He was now sure that the dreams had stopped. He thought back to the strange being from the dream. There was someone out there watching over them. But how had he and Catlin shared the same nightmare? Surely she had not experienced the other dreams. Maybe this was a message. Maybe he was meant to share with her what had happened in his sleep. Futilely he tried to wrap his mind around the puzzle. He gave up without an answer.
The cold morning air filled his lungs as he rushed out to talk to her. It was as if a burden had been lifted from his heart. She was safe. While he still did not want her to leave, he realized it was for the best. The impact this tribe could make if united with them was great. What Conor wanted now was to apologize; to explain what had happened; to repair their broken friendship before it was too late.
As he made his way to Catlin’s chambers, he saw Ian standing in the doorway.
“She’s already gone, Conor,” the leader said with obvious disappointment.
“When?”
“Aisling saw her leave at dawn.”
Conor disguised his immediate emotion with a flippant remark. “Well, I’ll just go over things with her when I get back…”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Ian stared at him. There was a slight pause. “I would like for you to address a few members of the council informally today… Would you be willing to do that?”
“Of course.”
“It’s not going to be an easy task, unification. We need to convince the council that they will not be expected to fight. They need to know that we are joining this alliance for peace, not for war.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
As Ian walked off, Conor couldn’t help but remember the look in Ian's eyes when he spoke of Catlin. Conor hoped that he hadn’t sent her away to satisfy his own jealous heart.
~*~*~*~
The scouting party left the Sanctuary mid-morning. Fergus, Tully and Aiobhell walked in front of the others.
“Did you sleep well, lass?” Fergus asked casually.
“Yes. Very well…” Aiobhell ran her hands over her arms. “It’s getting colder, isn’t it?” she said with a sly smile.
“Ah, nonsense. The cold air is good you!” Fergus said pounding his chest and breathing deeply through his nose.
“Well, I don’t like it,” Tully said moodily.
“Lad, you don’t like anything this morning. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing, Fergus… nothing.”
“’Nothing,’ eh? Sounds like something to me.”
“Fergus, please…” Tully sighed waving him off with his hand and walking faster to get ahead of the other two.
The warrior waited until the younger man walked out of earshot. He turned to his attention to the girl at his side.
“Does this have something to do with you?” He questioned.
“It might…” she sighed. “I don’t think he trusts me.”
“To tell you the truth, lass. I’m not sure I do either.”
Aiobhell stopped and turned to face Fergus. “Then why…”
“Because if you were a Roman spy, I’d have figured you would’ve given us away by now… And if you are a Roman spy, I’d rather keep track of you.”
“Oh.” Perplexed, she opened her mouth, then shut it without another word.
“But, your late night excursions to who knows where are going to end. At least until you offer a suitable explanation… And I will have to keep a guard on you at all times.”
Fergus’ tone was even and diplomatic. There was no sign of anger or tension. Perhaps he would make a better leader than he thought.
Aiobhell smiled at him and clasped his arm.
“Thank you for being fair, Fergus.”
“Think nothing of it,” he winked.
~*~*~*~
The day’s journey was long and lonely. The biting wind had not relented and Catlin was starting to worry that it might snow. She looked heavenward with growing unease at the impending clouds.
She would hunt and eat shortly, because she was not sure the weather would hold off much longer. Her horse neighed as if to reprimand her for bringing the beast out into such cold weather. Patting the animal on the neck, she was beginning to wonder why she had agreed to leave at all.
~*~*~*~
Conor met with four of the council elders. They sat in the meeting room during their midday meal. Colin was among them. His narrow stare told Conor that this was not going to be an easy argument. Ian stood up from the table and addressed the men.
“Elders, by now you know of the invitation Conor has given for us to join the Confederation. I am not asking you to decide, I am just asking you to listen with open minds. I’m sure that Conor will answer any questions you have about this decision… You all know my feelings, and I do not want anyone to feel pressure to support or avoid this alliance based on my vote. Therefore, I will leave you all to talk to Conor and learn about what this alliance has to offer our tribe.”
Ian left the room and Conor began a battle that was more difficult than defeating a legion of Romans: a battle of politics and persuasion.
~*~*~*~
“My Queen?” The voice of Antonius sounded small outside the heavy door.
“You may enter,” she called to her guard.
Antonius entered the room with another soldier.
“And who is this?” she said with curiosity.
“My Queen, this is Marcus. He has seen Longinus’ informer,” Antonius said proudly, like a hunter displaying his kill.
Diana’s eyes opened wide. She walked over to where the two soldiers stood and crossed her arms in front of her.
“You have seen this spy?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Marcus answered nervously.
“Well then. Who is she? What does she look like?”
“I don’t know her name… but she is one of the natives. She’s a young woman. Beautiful. I don’t know the color of her hair, it was under the hood of her cloak.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“Yes, my Queen.”
Diana raised her eyebrows and lowered her chin. She spoke deliberately and slowly. “Well… what did she say?”
“She gave me a sealed letter, with the directions to take it to Longinus at once.”
“I see.”
“Did you see which direction she went in?”
“No, my Queen.”
Sighing, Diana walked over to the pillows by the fire. She flopped into them and waved at the soldiers with her hand.
“Leave me.”
Antonius, who was slightly deflated by her response spoke up.
“I thought this information would make you happy, my Queen.”
Diana turned her face back to the men and scoffed. “Don’t think, Antonius. It’s not your strong suit… Now LEAVE.” She ordered.
The guards did as ordered. Diana stood up and walked to the window. The spy was out there, somewhere, and the fact that she knew more of Longinus’ plans made her more than just angry. It made her jealous. Through the windowpane she heard the wind howling. Snow began to fall in ever-faster waves.
~*~*~*~
“Sir?” Ian looked up. One of the hunting party stood in his doorway with a worried expression on his face.
“What is it?”
“There were Roman troops moving through the woods just south of us.”
“Just south, you say?” The troops were heading straight along Catlin’s path.
“Yes, sir. They were looking for someone. Or something.”
Ian walked past the villager and out into the snow. It had deepened greatly in the hour since he had been in his room.
“Sir, where are you going?”
“Someone needs help. Let the council know I’m gone but I’ll be back by midday tomorrow.” Ian strode toward the stables in a fast gait.
“Sir, shall I come with you?” The worried man asked, hoping his leader would respond in the negative.
“No. I’ll be fine alone.”
~*~*~*~
Catlin sat shivering by the small fire. There was no way she was going to survive the night out in the cold. Snow had been blanketing the ground for hours and showed no sign of stopping. There was no shelter and the light was fading fast. She went to her pack and pulled out her sleeping blankets. She spread them over her horse and came to an uneasy decision. She would have to turn back. It was nearly two days further journey to the Sanctuary, but if she turned back to Ian’s village, she would be there sometime in the middle of the night.
Quickly she doused the fire and got back on her horse. The animal whinnied.
“I know, I know. You were right,” she said as she rubbed the horse’s neck.
She turned back and followed the hoof marks they had just made in the fresh snow.
~*~*~*~
Conor emerged from the meeting room as the sky was beginning to darken. He felt as if he had just returned from the battlefield, only it was his brain, not his body that was fatigued and spent. The meeting had been slightly successful. He felt that maybe two of the four would consider unification.
As he expected, Colin was not in favor of alliance. He knew that the rough man would be voting against uniting with the Confederation.
Conor shuddered and finally realized that he was standing in snow halfway to his knees. A single thought crossed his mind. Catlin. Catlin was out in this snow. There was no way she would make it through the night.
Trudging through the drifts, he made his way back to his hut. Quickly scanning the room, he grabbed his sword and the blankets from his bed. He rushed out to the stables.
“Conor?” It was Aisling. Her face was barely visible in the folds of the large green cloak she was wrapped in.
“What is it?” he said barely turning. He was busily cinching the saddle around his horse.
“It’s… Um… Ian’s gone out to find her,” she stammered.
“What?” He stopped and turned.
“Ian’s already left to find Catlin… About an hour ago.” She looked down at the ground.
“Good,” he nodded. His eyes wandered left and right of the girl, but could not stop to look her in the eye. He turned back to his horse and continued to ready the animal.
“There was a Roman patrol out searching for her…” Aisling spoke quickly.
Conor stopped, but did not turn. Icy fear gripped his heart. Longinus. It wasn’t over after all; the dreams were coming true. As if to steady himself, Conor rested one hand on the neck of the horse.
“Is there a faster route south?” He still did not turn to face her.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “I’ve never been aloud to travel alone outside the village walls… I’m sorry.” There was a sadness in her voice.
Conor swung himself into the saddle.
“Conor, you shouldn’t go… It’s too dangerous,” Aisling pleaded, her voice full of fear.
“I have to go. I’m not going to let Catlin die,” he nearly shouted at the girl as he turned his horse and headed toward the village gate.
“But Ian knows these lands better than anyone. If anyone can find her, he can...” she called after him, futilely.
Conor did not stop to acknowledge her plea. As he galloped towards the gate, he found Colin and seven other men, all armed, blocking the exit. He brought his horse to a stop.
“Let me pass.” He stared directly at Colin.
“No… No one is to leave the village tonight. These were Ian’s direct orders,” Colin’s gravely voice echoed in the still dusk. The other men stood motionless, but at the ready to attack.
“Colin, this doesn’t concern you. I am going alone. This has nothing to do with your village.”
“You will not leave.” The scarred man’s eyes narrowed. Colin rubbed his stubbly chin with his hand and looked back to his men. “Eoin, Dermot, why don’t you escort our guest back to his quarters and make sure he’s comfortable for the evening… We wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”
As the two approached, Conor weighed his options. He could fight the men, but the odds definitely weren’t in his favor. One against eight was not a battle easily won. If he were to fight, it would destroy any chance at all of unification. With a heavy heart, he dismounted his horse and let the men lead him back to his quarters.
~*~*~*~
Longinus entered Diana’s bedchamber on silent feet. The queen was wrapped in furs and lay sleeping on her left side. Her left hand was curled at her forehead as if she were solving a puzzle in her dreams. Captivated for a moment, the ancient centurion almost forgot the pain that lived in what used to be his heart.
His mind floated back to when they had first met, to when they were new to each other. When just the sound of her voice or the tilt of her head would elicit desire. The attraction had been instant and immediate. In 400 years he had loved many, but Diana had been different. She was beautiful, yes, but she had ambition and cunning. Her mind was rough-hewn jewel. If only she had the patience and wisdom that 400 years of experience would provide.
But things had changed. They always did. Eventually no woman could stay with him. Longinus had changed too. In the past, he had always had the relentless pursuit of the Spear. He had always had the hope of salvation. Now he had rage. He had hate. He had destruction. Those had become his pursuits. He didn’t blame Diana for reviling him. He supposed that no mortal could understand the depths of his emotions, the chasms of his pain.
He sat down at the edge of Diana’s bed and gently stroked her hair. She shifted slightly in her sleep. He leaned down and kissed her softly. In the haze between the waking world and the dream world, Diana recognized his touch.
“Longinus,” she whispered, still sleeping. Her arms reached for him.
He brought her hands to his face and gently kissed them. He stood up and leaned over her. Again he caressed her hair and kissed her forehead. As he turned to leave, her hand reached out and caught his arm.
“Don’t go Longinus,” she spoke in her sleep.
It’s too late, he thought.
“It’s not too late…” she trailed off, as if she had read his mind.
As if her sleeping words had pierced his soul, he gasped for air. Quickly he turned back towards her. Her eyes remained closed and she was still asleep. In that brief moment, he felt feelings that had been buried inside for so long. He felt love. He felt hope.
The moment, however, was fleeting. As if the door had been slammed shut, the feelings left him. He closed his eyes and tried to bring them back. They would not come.
He exited the room as silently as he had entered it.
In her sleep, a silent tear flowed down Diana’s face.
~*~*~*~
Catlin crouched shaking in a thick grove of trees just south of where Roman troops had tied their horses. She had counted 25 men in the group. Her teeth began chattering and she looked upward. Snow was still falling relentlessly, and showed no signs of stopping. The group was camped for the evening. Three large fires lit their camp. Tents of heavy fabric had been pitched in the small clearing.
There was nothing she could do but continue south and hope that she would find some sort of shelter. The troops blocked the only path north. A steep hill sloped off on the east and a large river bordered her western side. The eastern route would be too treacherous in the snow and the river looked near impossible to cross even in the best weather conditions.
Quietly, she picked her way through the brush to where her horse was waiting. Standing in the cover of a large oak, she peered about the area. Her eye caught sight of the glint of moonlight off something shiny. She took it for a cloak pin, or perhaps Roman armor. Circling around unseen, she approached her prey carefully, drawing her sword in complete silence.
The man was looking back at where her horse was tied, watching for her approach from the north. He did not even sense her presence until he felt the point of her sword at his back.
“Turn slowly. Don’t call for help, or you’ll be dead before it reaches you,” she said in a low, intense voice.
The man turned slowly.
Catlin’s face broke into a smile as she lowered her weapon.
“Ian, what are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Ach, it’s a lovely evening for a walk, isn’t it?” he smiled. The smile slowly slid from his face, replaced with concern as he noticed the paleness of her face and the bluish tint of her lips. “Are you alright?”
“Just a little cold,” she said shivering.
“Come on,” he said taking her hand and leading her to where her horse stood. “There’s a hunting cottage nearby.”
~*~*~*~
Conor paced nervously in his room. He tried to reassure himself that Ian would find Catlin before the Romans did. After all, there was no doubt that Catlin could avoid a Roman scouting party. She was much more careful and agile than they. It was the cold and the harsh terrain that worried him most. Just outside the door, the two guards continued their watch. He walked up to the door.
“Eoin, is it?” Conor said approaching a slight man with dark wavy hair and an unruly beard.
“That’s me,” he nodded.
“A word?” Conor gestured into the hut. Suspiciously, the man looked to his counterpart, then shrugged and followed Conor into the room.
“Have you lived in this village for many years?” He asked the guard.
“All my life…” He glanced at Conor with a slight hint of trepidation. It was obvious he was uncomfortable talking to someone he was guarding.
“My father, Derek was an ally of Ian’s father. My father always spoke of your tribe as great warriors… Ian insists now that you are only farmers, looking for peace.”
Eoin nodded knowingly. “My father fought in the tradition of our ancestors. But everything changed when we tried to attack the Roman fort. The King was killed in the battle. Our tribe was cut apart. Nearly half our men were slain. Every family lost at least one father or brother or son.” The man’s eyes became glassy.
“Your father as well?” Conor asked already anticipating the response.
Eoin nodded his head in the affirmative and lowered his voice. “Ian decreed that we would now only fight to protect ourselves, and that we would seek peace at all costs. He sold most of the riches of the tribe and bought seed and animals. We turned to farming… we turned to hiding… Some call him a coward. They say that he disgraces us and his father’s memory.” Eoin turned to leave but shot a final determined glance at Conor. “I say he’s a true hero and saved us from destruction.”
“I need your help,” Conor said plainly.
The guard closed his eyes and sighed. “You know I can’t help you.”
“And you know it’s wrong for Colin to hold me prisoner here. You know Ian wouldn’t want this.”
“Colin… he holds power within the Council. If I disobey his orders, I’ll have them to answer to.”
“My friend is out there. She could die… Please, let me help her.”
Eoin wavered for a moment. The decision was playing out on his face. He winced slightly then looked away from Conor.
“I’m sorry… I can’t help you.” Eoin gave him a small nod of his head and walked back out into the awaiting cold.
Conor sat down on his bed with a heavy heart. There was something troubling about these people, about this place. For farmers at peace there was too much unrest. Outside the wind began to howl. His mind wandered back to Catlin. He hoped Ian had found her by now. It was getting colder.
~*~*~*~
Ian sat behind Catlin on the horse, wrapping his arms and cloak around her and taking the reins. By now she was shaking violently from the cold.
“We’ll be there soon,” he said softly. He held the reins in his left hand and pulled Catlin to his chest with his right, covering her in the cloak. Catlin’s shaking subsided slightly, but Ian knew that he needed to get her out of the freezing cold. The icy wind didn’t relent and Ian’s face burned as the stinging air hit him.
The journey to the cottage took longer than Ian had hoped. Catlin was again shuddering, even worse than before.
“There it is,” he said pointing at a thicket of trees and shrubs. Catlin followed his gaze.
“I…don’t…s-see…anything,” she chattered.
“It’s well hidden.”
~*~*~*~
Tully sat in the meeting room, talking with Fergus over a mug of ale and a roaring fire.
“Do you think Catlin and Conor will be back soon?” the younger man posed.
“Not likely in this weather. My guess is that they’ll weather the storm in Ian’s village. Unified or not, I don’t remember them as the sort that would throw people out into the cold,” the warrior laughed.
“This early winter is a bad sign,” Tully remarked nervously. “Every season has its place, but for winter to come so quickly…”
“Nonsense, lad. It just means that winter will be over sooner and spring can hurry up and arrive.”
“I don’t like it,” he shook his head sullenly.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Fergus chuckled, refusing to let him deflate his good ale-induced mood.
Tully stood up to leave.
“Where are you off to now, lad?” Fergus said, looking up from his mug.
“It’s my turn to stand guard… on Aiobhell.”
Fergus nodded as Tully left the room. Tully had usually been so carefree. He had never seen him quite so troubled. First love would do that to a man. And he was sure that was what this was, for Tully, at least.
~*~*~*~
Catlin could barely feel her limbs. It was as if her arms and legs no longer existed. Her eyes slowly opened to the sight of Ian watching her as she slept in the small cottage. Catlin was wrapped in blankets and skins. A blazing fire roared in the hearth.
“How are you feeling?” Ian’s voice was a lulling tone. He smiled at her, the light from the hearth made his green eyes shine like fiery gems.
“I can’t feel my arms,” she said weakly. Catlin couldn’t ever remember being so cold. She had passed out shortly after they came upon the cottage. The loss of time suddenly struck her. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long…” Ian smiled. He reached down to the floor and brought a cup to her mouth. “Here, drink this.”
The mixture was bitter.
“The healer gave it to me. She thought we might need it,” he explained.
Catlin drank the liquid down. Her eyes wandered around the little room. It was a sparse cottage. Ian followed her gaze.
“My father and I built this cottage when I was a boy.” The memory of the place had a clear impact on him. “We picked the spot because it was well hidden. You have to know where to look to find it.”
She smiled at him. “It’s nice.” Catlin’s eyes darkened slightly as she remembered what had brought her here. “Ian, how did you know where to find me?”
“My patrol saw the Romans heading south through the woods. I knew they would catch up with you… I’ve hunted through these trees since I was a boy. I know every trail and gully…”
“Thank you.” Her voice was full of sincerity.
“Ach, there’s no need,” he shrugged.
“I guess Conor and I should have been more prepared for Winter…” she
said with a slight smirk.
TO BE CONTINUED...