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“Well, Colin, the spirits tell me I’d best be finding us a place before the first snow- fall, ol’ boy,” Calgacus told his son squirming on his back.
All that was left now that the Romans had taken all that he had. Almost his life, his tribe, now his wife. How could Kianna have become so frightened of him if the bastard Roman hadn’t done that to her? She had recognized him and screamed, bolted up from her stool and charged toward him as if to take Colin from him as if she had reason to protect him. And tripped.
Once again, Calgacus saw Kianna fall, heard the sickening thud of her temple on the brazier, and her eyes go lifeless. Now, Colin was all he had left of her. “I’ll take care of him, Kianna. I’ll take care of him.”
The tiny hands pulled at the long golden strands of his hair as another cool wind rustled the drying leaves to the nearby stream. “Owwww, Colin. No woman wants a bald man,” he grumbled as he freed another gold hank from the tiny fist. The sharp pain stopped the tears from falling.
A man’s terrified yell echoed through the trees. Then came the hungry grunts of a boar. Calgacus halted, finding the direction off to his left .Without a thought, he dropped the leather pack pole and broke into a jog, hefting a spear in one hand and his sword in the other. Colin clutched onto the strands of hair like reins and squealed with delight.
“That’s right, boy. You are riding a stallion.”
The man yelled in pain. The boar had him. Finally, Calgacus saw the boar and the man stabbing for the boar’s back. Instinctively, Calgacus drew back with his spear and heaved. Colin rode up the back of his head and fell into his arms just as the boar fell dead, trapping the man’s leg under its body as it fell. The man cried out in pain and slumped back against the tree, unconscious.
“Get back in the saddle, ole boy. Can’t ride like that. Now watch.” Calgacus stabbed his knife into the animal’s jugular vein, squirting, warm, pungent blood across his hands and “Guess we’ll eat well tonight, Colin,”
The man came to as Calgacus pulled the man free and grabbed for his leg. “Don’t. We’ll bind it. Your lucky to even have a leg left." The man quickly scanned the area, the dead boar, and looked up. “We?”
“Colin and me.” Calgacus said, nodding to his rider as he pulled changing rags from his pouch. “Let me take a look at that leg.”
“The spirits smiled on me this day." The man's dancing blue eyes lifted toward boy.” Boy’s name is Colin, is it?” the man asked, wiping his leathery face and wiry bronze mustache that stretched past his chin to the gold torc around the thick, corded neck.
***
Calgacus soon had a warm fire and sizzling boar meat chasing the chilling breeze that crept into the new campsite and had finished out the boar while the man kept Colin away from his amber-filled brooch at his shoulder. He was pulling the carcass up into a tree when he heard a limb break nearby.
It thudded to the ground as Calgacus grabbed his sword and stood between the noise, his son, and the wounded man as four men appeared with drawn long swords. Calgacus eyed each intruder painted with blue designs over their chests. Each set of eyes seared down on Calgacus with cold determination.
“Stop! He saved my life!” the man yelled and then cried out in pain as he tried to get up.
Swords carefully slid into scabbards or through baldric rings at their sides as grins appeared through unshaven beards and long mustaches. “Well, Alaric, why didn’t you say so sooner,” one of the men chortled as he settled by the fire and pulling his shoulder-broached cape beneath him while the rest made themselves comfy as well. “What got ya this time?”
“Damn boar snuck up on me.”
Calgacus picked up Colin as two of the men hoisted the carcass back into the tree.
“Enough for us?”
“It’s his boar, Carnac,” Alaric answered, motioning to Calgacus. “Ask him.”
“There’s plenty after the boy eats,” Calgacus said, settling down across from the group, eyeing each carefully.
“Don’t look like he’ll eat much.”
“But, he eats first.”
With stomachs filled, men stretched lazily back on elbows, picking and cleaning teeth with small bones. Calgacus leaned back against the tree with Colin asleep on his chest and adjusted the blue wool blanket over the boy’s feet.
“Where’s your woman?” the one called Carnac asked.
“Dead.”
“Makes it hard on a man when he has to do a woman’s job too.”
“Sometimes.”
Carnac looked over at Alaric who groaned loud enough to wake himself with a bark of pain. “Gonna make it hard to dance at Beltaine, Alaric.”
“Long as it don’t mess with pleasuring women,” the leather faced man barked back. “I can still pleasure more women than any you fools…and better.” Alaric scooted himself closer to the tree to support his back and adjusted the torc on his neck. He looked at Calgacus then at the wound. “I owe you my life. The way I figure it if I do, I could at least know who I owe it to.”
Calgacus chuckled toward the golden head resting on his chest. “Calgacus. This is Colin, my son. His mother was captive to the Romans. They killed her. I stayed with Venutius for a while until I couldn’t stand the smell of Romans getting any closer.”
“Brigante?” Carnac asked curiously. His blue eyes settled on him like cold water.
“Yes, Brigante,” Calgacus answered while stroking Colin’s back.
“I’m sure the queen'd see you’d have a woman…as long as you pleasured her well enough.”
“She’s a Roman lover and I’ll never pleasure such filth.” Calgacus spit into the dirt beside him.
Carnac flipped a rusty-colored braid back over his shoulder. “That how you got all those scars? Fightin’ Romans?”
"Yes.”
Heads nodded about. “We’ve heard of them. Never seen one though. And from what I hear, don’t want to,” Alaric said.
“You don’t." Calgacus needed to change the topic from Romans. His guts were churning. "So, if I own your life, ol’ man, what kinda man do I own?”
Alaric grinned as Carnac spoke. “He’s the chief of the Boresti tribe and has a habit of going off on his own to hunt.”
“Problem is, you just can’t keep up, Carnac,” Alaric spat. “Obviously, none of you can.” He laughed until his leg suddenly put an end to it. He bent over and swayed with the pain.
“We’d better get him back to Binn,” Carnac said as everyone collected around their chief.
“You’d better get him home, that’s for sure.”
“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Carnac asked. “We can see that you and your boy are taken care of. There’s plenty of women to see to that…and more besides.”
****
What could I have done different, Julius asked the quiet of the tablinum and dropped his forehead to his palm. What?
All he could see was Kianna’s dead stare and the empty basket where his son was supposed to be. His body continuously ached to hold Gnaeus, an ache that would never heal. Tears choked his throat as another part of his soul died. Each day he felt more empty. He knew he was was a walking dead man. If that was the answer, easy enough...but Gnaeus was with the hellspawn who killed his mother... the only woman he would ever love...ever love.
With a wild swipe of his arm, he knocked wine, parchment, and goblet to the floor of his father’s office, clearing the teak desk instantly. I want my son choked in his tight throat. Kianna was supposed to be there with him. They had planned it. Then, thats bastard of an uncle…Fury curdled in his veins and all he wanted was to feel the man’s neck in his hands.
“Julius, are you alright?”
“Yes.”
He lied. He would never be alright, not without her…not without his son. Julius turned to the wall of parchment niches covering the back wall as slaves scurried in to clean up the mess.
Domitia's softly touched his arm. “You have a letter from Marcus? Have they found Gnaeus?”
He shook his head, that was all he could do to answer his wife’s concerned question and stepped closer to the peg holes.
“Well, Colin, the spirits tell me I’d best be finding us a place before the first snow- fall, ol’ boy,” Calgacus told his son squirming on his back.
All that was left now that the Romans had taken all that he had. Almost his life, his tribe, now his wife. How could Kianna have become so frightened of him if the bastard Roman hadn’t done that to her? She had recognized him and screamed, bolted up from her stool and charged toward him as if to take Colin from him as if she had reason to protect him. And tripped.
Once again, Calgacus saw Kianna fall, heard the sickening thud of her temple on the brazier, and her eyes go lifeless. Now, Colin was all he had left of her. “I’ll take care of him, Kianna. I’ll take care of him.”
The tiny hands pulled at the long golden strands of his hair as another cool wind rustled the drying leaves to the nearby stream. “Owwww, Colin. No woman wants a bald man,” he grumbled as he freed another gold hank from the tiny fist. The sharp pain stopped the tears from falling.
A man’s terrified yell echoed through the trees. Then came the hungry grunts of a boar. Calgacus halted, finding the direction off to his left .Without a thought, he dropped the leather pack pole and broke into a jog, hefting a spear in one hand and his sword in the other. Colin clutched onto the strands of hair like reins and squealed with delight.
“That’s right, boy. You are riding a stallion.”
The man yelled in pain. The boar had him. Finally, Calgacus saw the boar and the man stabbing for the boar’s back. Instinctively, Calgacus drew back with his spear and heaved. Colin rode up the back of his head and fell into his arms just as the boar fell dead, trapping the man’s leg under its body as it fell. The man cried out in pain and slumped back against the tree, unconscious.
“Get back in the saddle, ole boy. Can’t ride like that. Now watch.” Calgacus stabbed his knife into the animal’s jugular vein, squirting, warm, pungent blood across his hands and “Guess we’ll eat well tonight, Colin,”
The man came to as Calgacus pulled the man free and grabbed for his leg. “Don’t. We’ll bind it. Your lucky to even have a leg left. “
The man quickly scanned the area, the dead boar, and looked up. “We?”
“Colin and me.” Calgacus said, nodding to his rider as he pulled changing rags from his pouch. “Let me take a look at that leg.”
“The spirits smiled on me this day." The man's dancing blue eyes lifted toward boy.” Boy’s name is Colin, is it?” the man asked, wiping his leathery face and wiry bronze mustache that stretched past his chin to the gold torc around the thick, corded neck.
***
Calgacus soon had a warm fire and sizzling boar meat chasing the chilling breeze that crept into the new campsite and had finished out the boar while the man kept Colin away from his amber-filled brooch at his shoulder. He was pulling the carcass up into a tree when he heard a limb break nearby.
It thudded to the ground as Calgacus grabbed his sword and stood between the noise, his son, and the wounded man as four men appeared with drawn long swords. Calgacus eyed each intruder painted with blue designs over their chests. Each set of eyes seared down on Calgacus with cold determination.
“Stop! He saved my life!” the man yelled and then cried out in pain as he tried to get up.
Swords carefully slid into scabbards or through baldric rings at their sides as grins appeared through unshaven beards and long mustaches. “Well, Alaric, why didn’t you say so sooner,” one of the men chortled as he settled by the fire and pulling his shoulder-broached cape beneath him while the rest made themselves comfy as well. “What got ya this time?”
“Damn boar snuck up on me.”
Calgacus picked up Colin as two of the men hoisted the carcass back into the tree.
“Enough for us?”
“It’s his boar, Carnac,” Alaric answered, motioning to Calgacus. “Ask him.”
“There’s plenty after the boy eats,” Calgacus said, settling down across from the group, eyeing each carefully.
“Don’t look like he’ll eat much.”
“But, he eats first.”
With stomachs filled, men stretched lazily back on elbows, picking and cleaning teeth with small bones. Calgacus leaned back against the tree with Colin asleep on his chest and adjusted the blue wool blanket over the boy’s feet.
“Where’s your woman?” the one called Carnac asked.
“Dead.”
“Makes it hard on a man when he has to do a woman’s job too.”
“Sometimes.”
Carnac looked over at Alaric who groaned loud enough to wake himself with a bark of pain. “Gonna make it hard to dance at Beltaine, Alaric.”
“Long as it don’t mess with pleasuring women,” the leather faced man barked back. “I can still pleasure more women than any you fools…and better.” Alaric scooted himself closer to the tree to support his back and adjusted the torc on his neck. He looked at Calgacus then at the wound. “I owe you my life. The way I figure it if I do, I could at least know who I owe it to.”
Calgacus chuckled toward the golden head resting on his chest. “Calgacus. This is Colin, my son. His mother was captive to the Romans. They killed her. I stayed with Venutius for a while until I couldn’t stand the smell of Romans getting any closer.”
“Brigante?” Carnac asked curiously. His blue eyes settled on him like cold water.
“Yes, Brigante,” Calgacus answered while stroking Colin’s back.
“I’m sure the queen'd see you’d have a woman…as long as you pleasured her well enough.”
“She’s a Roman lover and I’ll never pleasure such filth.” Calgacus spit into the dirt beside him.
Carnac flipped a rusty-colored braid back over his shoulder. “That how you got all those scars? Fightin’ Romans?”
Yes.”
Heads nodded about. “We’ve heard of them. Never seen one though. And from what I hear, don’t want to,” Alaric said.
“You don’t." Calgacus needed to change the topic from Romans. His guts were churning. "So, if I own your life, ol’ man, what kinda man do I own?”
Alaric grinned as Carnac spoke. “He’s the chief of the Boresti tribe and has a habit of going off on his own to hunt.”
“Problem is, you just can’t keep up, Carnac,” Alaric spat. “Obviously, none of you can.” He laughed until his leg suddenly put an end to it. He bent over and swayed with the pain.
“We’d better get him back to Binn,” Carnac said as everyone collected around their chief.
“You’d better get him home, that’s for sure.”
“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Carnac asked. “We can see that you and your boy are taken care of. There’s plenty of women to see to that…and more besides.”
****
What could I have done different, Julius asked the quiet of the tablinum and dropped his forehead to his palm. What?
All he could see was Kianna’s dead stare and the empty basket where his son was supposed to be. His body continuously ached to hold Gnaeus, an ache that would never heal. Tears choked his throat as another part of his soul died. Each day he felt more empty. He knew he was was a walking dead man. If that was the answer, easy enough...but Gnaeus was with the hellspawn who killed his mother... the only woman he would ever love...ever love.
With a wild swipe of his arm, he knocked wine, parchment, and goblet to the floor of his father’s office, clearing the teak desk instantly. I want my son choked in his tight throat. Kianna was supposed to be there with him. They had planned it. Then, thats bastard of an uncle…Fury curdled in his veins and all he wanted was to feel the man’s neck in his hands.
“Julius, are you alright?”
“Yes.”
He lied. He would never be alright, not without her…not without his son. Julius turned to the wall of parchment niches covering the back wall as slaves scurried in to clean up the mess.
Domitia's softly touched his arm. “You have a letter from Marcus? Have they found Gnaeus?”
He shook his head, that was all he could do to answer his wife’s concerned question and stepped closer to the peg holes.
“Well, Colin, the spirits tell me I’d best be finding us a place before the first snow- fall, ol’ boy,” Calgacus told his son squirming on his back.
All that was left now that the Romans had taken all that he had. Almost his life, his tribe, now his wife. How could Kianna have become so frightened of him if the bastard Roman hadn’t done that to her? She had recognized him and screamed, bolted up from her stool and charged toward him as if to take Colin from him as if she had reason to protect him. And tripped.
Once again, Calgacus saw Kianna fall, heard the sickening thud of her temple on the brazier, and her eyes go lifeless. Now, Colin was all he had left of her. “I’ll take care of him, Kianna. I’ll take care of him.”
The tiny hands pulled at the long golden strands of his hair as another cool wind rustled the drying leaves to the nearby stream. “Owwww, Colin. No woman wants a bald man,” he grumbled as he freed another gold hank from the tiny fist. The sharp pain stopped the tears from falling.
A man’s terrified yell echoed through the trees. Then came the hungry grunts of a boar. Calgacus halted, finding the direction off to his left .Without a thought, he dropped the leather pack pole and broke into a jog, hefting a spear in one hand and his sword in the other. Colin clutched onto the strands of hair like reins and squealed with delight.
“That’s right, boy. You are riding a stallion.”
The man yelled in pain. The boar had him. Finally, Calgacus saw the boar and the man stabbing for the boar’s back. Instinctively, Calgacus drew back with his spear and heaved. Colin rode up the back of his head and fell into his arms just as the boar fell dead, trapping the man’s leg under its body as it fell. The man cried out in pain and slumped back against the tree, unconscious.
“Get back in the saddle, ole boy. Can’t ride like that. Now watch.” Calgacus stabbed his knife into the animal’s jugular vein, squirting, warm, pungent blood across his hands and “Guess we’ll eat well tonight, Colin,”
The man came to as Calgacus pulled the man free and grabbed for his leg. “Don’t. We’ll bind it. Your lucky to even have a leg left. “
The man quickly scanned the area, the dead boar, and looked up. “We?”
“Colin and me.” Calgacus said, nodding to his rider as he pulled changing rags from his pouch. “Let me take a look at that leg.”
“The spirits smiled on me this day." The man's dancing blue eyes lifted toward boy.” Boy’s name is Colin, is it?” the man asked, wiping his leathery face and wiry bronze mustache that stretched past his chin to the gold torc around the thick, corded neck.
***
Calgacus soon had a warm fire and sizzling boar meat chasing the chilling breeze that crept into the new campsite and had finished out the boar while the man kept Colin away from his amber-filled brooch at his shoulder. He was pulling the carcass up into a tree when he heard a limb break nearby.
It thudded to the ground as Calgacus grabbed his sword and stood between the noise, his son, and the wounded man as four men appeared with drawn long swords. Calgacus eyed each intruder painted with blue designs over their chests. Each set of eyes seared down on Calgacus with cold determination.
“Stop! He saved my life!” the man yelled and then cried out in pain as he tried to get up.
Swords carefully slid into scabbards or through baldric rings at their sides as grins appeared through unshaven beards and long mustaches. “Well, Alaric, why didn’t you say so sooner,” one of the men chortled as he settled by the fire and pulling his shoulder-broached cape beneath him while the rest made themselves comfy as well. “What got ya this time?”
“Damn boar snuck up on me.”
Calgacus picked up Colin as two of the men hoisted the carcass back into the tree.
“Enough for us?”
“It’s his boar, Carnac,” Alaric answered, motioning to Calgacus. “Ask him.”
“There’s plenty after the boy eats,” Calgacus said, settling down across from the group, eyeing each carefully.
“Don’t look like he’ll eat much.”
“But, he eats first.”
With stomachs filled, men stretched lazily back on elbows, picking and cleaning teeth with small bones. Calgacus leaned back against the tree with Colin asleep on his chest and adjusted the blue wool blanket over the boy’s feet.
“Where’s your woman?” the one called Carnac asked.
“Dead.”
“Makes it hard on a man when he has to do a woman’s job too.”
“Sometimes.”
Carnac looked over at Alaric who groaned loud enough to wake himself with a bark of pain. “Gonna make it hard to dance at Beltaine, Alaric.”
“Long as it don’t mess with pleasuring women,” the leather faced man barked back. “I can still pleasure more women than any you fools…and better.” Alaric scooted himself closer to the tree to support his back and adjusted the torc on his neck. He looked at Calgacus then at the wound. “I owe you my life. The way I figure it if I do, I could at least know who I owe it to.”
Calgacus chuckled toward the golden head resting on his chest. “Calgacus. This is Colin, my son. His mother was captive to the Romans. They killed her. I stayed with Venutius for a while until I couldn’t stand the smell of Romans getting any closer.”
“Brigante?” Carnac asked curiously. His blue eyes settled on him like cold water.
“Yes, Brigante,” Calgacus answered while stroking Colin’s back.
“I’m sure the queen'd see you’d have a woman…as long as you pleasured her well enough.”
“She’s a Roman lover and I’ll never pleasure such filth.” Calgacus spit into the dirt beside him.
Carnac flipped a rusty-colored braid back over his shoulder. “That how you got all those scars? Fightin’ Romans?”
Yes.”
Heads nodded about. “We’ve heard of them. Never seen one though. And from what I hear, don’t want to,” Alaric said.
“You don’t." Calgacus needed to change the topic from Romans. His guts were churning. "So, if I own your life, ol’ man, what kinda man do I own?”
Alaric grinned as Carnac spoke. “He’s the chief of the Boresti tribe and has a habit of going off on his own to hunt.”
“Problem is, you just can’t keep up, Carnac,” Alaric spat. “Obviously, none of you can.” He laughed until his leg suddenly put an end to it. He bent over and swayed with the pain.
“We’d better get him back to Binn,” Carnac said as everyone collected around their chief.
“You’d better get him home, that’s for sure.”
“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Carnac asked. “We can see that you and your boy are taken care of. There’s plenty of women to see to that…and more besides.”
****
What could I have done different, Julius asked the quiet of the tablinum and dropped his forehead to his palm. What?
All he could see was Kianna’s dead stare and the empty basket where his son was supposed to be. His body continuously ached to hold Gnaeus, an ache that would never heal. Tears choked his throat as another part of his soul died. Each day he felt more empty. He knew he was was a walking dead man. If that was the answer, easy enough...but Gnaeus was with the hellspawn who killed his mother... the only woman he would ever love...ever love.
With a wild swipe of his arm, he knocked wine, parchment, and goblet to the floor of his father’s office, clearing the teak desk instantly. I want my son choked in his tight throat. Kianna was supposed to be there with him. They had planned it. Then, thats bastard of an uncle…Fury curdled in his veins and all he wanted was to feel the man’s neck in his hands.
“Julius, are you alright?”
“Yes.”
He lied. He would never be alright, not without her…not without his son. Julius turned to the wall of parchment niches covering the back wall as slaves scurried in to clean up the mess.
Domitia's softly touched his arm. “You have a letter from Marcus? Have they found Gnaeus?”
He shook his head, that was all he could do to answer his wife’s concerned question and stepped closer to the peg holes.
“Well, Colin, the spirits tell me I’d best be finding us a place before the first snow- fall, ol’ boy,” Calgacus told his son squirming on his back.
All that was left now that the Romans had taken all that he had. Almost his life, his tribe, now his wife. How could Kianna have become so frightened of him if the bastard Roman hadn’t done that to her? She had recognized him and screamed, bolted up from her stool and charged toward him as if to take Colin from him as if she had reason to protect him. And tripped.
Once again, Calgacus saw Kianna fall, heard the sickening thud of her temple on the brazier, and her eyes go lifeless. Now, Colin was all he had left of her. “I’ll take care of him, Kianna. I’ll take care of him.”
The tiny hands pulled at the long golden strands of his hair as another cool wind rustled the drying leaves to the nearby stream. “Owwww, Colin. No woman wants a bald man,” he grumbled as he freed another gold hank from the tiny fist. The sharp pain stopped the tears from falling.
A man’s terrified yell echoed through the trees. Then came the hungry grunts of a boar. Calgacus halted, finding the direction off to his left .Without a thought, he dropped the leather pack pole and broke into a jog, hefting a spear in one hand and his sword in the other. Colin clutched onto the strands of hair like reins and squealed with delight.
“That’s right, boy. You are riding a stallion.”
The man yelled in pain. The boar had him. Finally, Calgacus saw the boar and the man stabbing for the boar’s back. Instinctively, Calgacus drew back with his spear and heaved. Colin rode up the back of his head and fell into his arms just as the boar fell dead, trapping the man’s leg under its body as it fell. The man cried out in pain and slumped back against the tree, unconscious.
“Get back in the saddle, ole boy. Can’t ride like that. Now watch.” Calgacus stabbed his knife into the animal’s jugular vein, squirting, warm, pungent blood across his hands and “Guess we’ll eat well tonight, Colin,”
The man came to as Calgacus pulled the man free and grabbed for his leg. “Don’t. We’ll bind it. Your lucky to even have a leg left. “
The man quickly scanned the area, the dead boar, and looked up. “We?”
“Colin and me.” Calgacus said, nodding to his rider as he pulled changing rags from his pouch. “Let me take a look at that leg.”
“The spirits smiled on me this day." The man's dancing blue eyes lifted toward boy.” Boy’s name is Colin, is it?” the man asked, wiping his leathery face and wiry bronze mustache that stretched past his chin to the gold torc around the thick, corded neck.
***
Calgacus soon had a warm fire and sizzling boar meat chasing the chilling breeze that crept into the new campsite and had finished out the boar while the man kept Colin away from his amber-filled brooch at his shoulder. He was pulling the carcass up into a tree when he heard a limb break nearby.
It thudded to the ground as Calgacus grabbed his sword and stood between the noise, his son, and the wounded man as four men appeared with drawn long swords. Calgacus eyed each intruder painted with blue designs over their chests. Each set of eyes seared down on Calgacus with cold determination.
“Stop! He saved my life!” the man yelled and then cried out in pain as he tried to get up.
Swords carefully slid into scabbards or through baldric rings at their sides as grins appeared through unshaven beards and long mustaches. “Well, Alaric, why didn’t you say so sooner,” one of the men chortled as he settled by the fire and pulling his shoulder-broached cape beneath him while the rest made themselves comfy as well. “What got ya this time?”
“Damn boar snuck up on me.”
Calgacus picked up Colin as two of the men hoisted the carcass back into the tree.
“Enough for us?”
“It’s his boar, Carnac,” Alaric answered, motioning to Calgacus. “Ask him.”
“There’s plenty after the boy eats,” Calgacus said, settling down across from the group, eyeing each carefully.
“Don’t look like he’ll eat much.”
“But, he eats first.”
With stomachs filled, men stretched lazily back on elbows, picking and cleaning teeth with small bones. Calgacus leaned back against the tree with Colin asleep on his chest and adjusted the blue wool blanket over the boy’s feet.
“Where’s your woman?” the one called Carnac asked.
“Dead.”
“Makes it hard on a man when he has to do a woman’s job too.”
“Sometimes.”
Carnac looked over at Alaric who groaned loud enough to wake himself with a bark of pain. “Gonna make it hard to dance at Beltaine, Alaric.”
“Long as it don’t mess with pleasuring women,” the leather faced man barked back. “I can still pleasure more women than any you fools…and better.” Alaric scooted himself closer to the tree to support his back and adjusted the torc on his neck. He looked at Calgacus then at the wound. “I owe you my life. The way I figure it if I do, I could at least know who I owe it to.”
Calgacus chuckled toward the golden head resting on his chest. “Calgacus. This is Colin, my son. His mother was captive to the Romans. They killed her. I stayed with Venutius for a while until I couldn’t stand the smell of Romans getting any closer.”
“Brigante?” Carnac asked curiously. His blue eyes settled on him like cold water.
“Yes, Brigante,” Calgacus answered while stroking Colin’s back.
“I’m sure the queen'd see you’d have a woman…as long as you pleasured her well enough.”
“She’s a Roman lover and I’ll never pleasure such filth.” Calgacus spit into the dirt beside him.
Carnac flipped a rusty-colored braid back over his shoulder. “That how you got all those scars? Fightin’ Romans?”
Yes.”
Heads nodded about. “We’ve heard of them. Never seen one though. And from what I hear, don’t want to,” Alaric said.
“You don’t." Calgacus needed to change the topic from Romans. His guts were churning. "So, if I own your life, ol’ man, what kinda man do I own?”
Alaric grinned as Carnac spoke. “He’s the chief of the Boresti tribe and has a habit of going off on his own to hunt.”
“Problem is, you just can’t keep up, Carnac,” Alaric spat. “Obviously, none of you can.” He laughed until his leg suddenly put an end to it. He bent over and swayed with the pain.
“We’d better get him back to Binn,” Carnac said as everyone collected around their chief.
“You’d better get him home, that’s for sure.”
“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Carnac asked. “We can see that you and your boy are taken care of. There’s plenty of women to see to that…and more besides.”
****
What could I have done different, Julius asked the quiet of the tablinum and dropped his forehead to his palm. What?
All he could see was Kianna’s dead stare and the empty basket where his son was supposed to be. His body continuously ached to hold Gnaeus, an ache that would never heal. Tears choked his throat as another part of his soul died. Each day he felt more empty. He knew he was was a walking dead man. If that was the answer, easy enough...but Gnaeus was with the hellspawn who killed his mother... the only woman he would ever love...ever love.
With a wild swipe of his arm, he knocked wine, parchment, and goblet to the floor of his father’s office, clearing the teak desk instantly. I want my son choked in his tight throat. Kianna was supposed to be there with him. They had planned it. Then, thats bastard of an uncle…Fury curdled in his veins and all he wanted was to feel the man’s neck in his hands.
“Julius, are you alright?”
“Yes.”
He lied. He would never be alright, not without her…not without his son. Julius turned to the wall of parchment niches covering the back wall as slaves scurried in to clean up the mess.
Domitia's softly touched his arm. “You have a letter from Marcus? Have they found Gnaeus?”
He shook his head, that was all he could do to answer his wife’s concerned question and stepped closer to the peg holes.
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