Free Roman - The Fall of Britannia by K. M. Ashman Page A

are
hard to come by.’
    ‘ Guard your manner, young man,’ said Owen, ‘despite their
birth they still enjoy the safety of our hospitality. We do not
sell anything. The horses are given freely in the name of the
King.’ The rest of the occupants had drawn closer to hear the
conversation.
    Gwydion drew a
purse from his belt and threw it on the table.
    ‘ I
can pay a fair price with good Khymric gold, Sire,’ he said. ‘You
deny your own people the horses they need, yet give them away
freely to your enemies?’
    One of the
travellers stepped forward.
    ‘ You
have already stated the answer, young man,’ he said in a strange
accent.
    ‘ And
who are you?’ asked Gwydion scornfully.
    ‘ Hold your tongue,’ shouted Owen standing up from his chair.
‘You too are a visitor and hold no sway here. You will not question
our guests.’
    The bearded man
held up his hand in a conciliatory gesture.
    ‘ Be
calm, Owen,’ he said. ‘If we are to meet this threat as allies,
then we must share many things, knowledge as well as horses. I am
Rebellon of the Catuvellauni,’ he said, addressing Gwydion
directly, ‘and I speak for King Caratacus. We expect the Romans to
send their armies before the year is out and our lands overlook the
seas from whence they will come. We intend to meet these invaders
and crush them like beetles beneath our feet. Roman traders are one
thing; Roman soldiers are another. Even as we speak, riders are
travelling between all the clans of Catuvellauni gathering warriors
to defend our island. Thousands are gathering at the coast and our
villages have been tasked to turn out as many chariots as possible,
but therein lay the problem. Chariots we can make. Horses take a
while longer.’
    Gwydion
considered the man’s words.
    ‘ I
hear the Romans are a formidable foe,’ he said. ‘What makes you
think you can defeat them?’
    ‘ Because we have done so before,’ said Rebellon confidently.
‘Twice in the last hundred years, they have dared to wave their
swords over our people and twice our tribe has turned them away
with steel and willow. This time will be no different.’
    ‘ And
if you do?’ asked Gwydion. ‘When it is all over and the blood lust
is still high in your warrior’s veins, what is to stop you from
turning your war chariots against us?’
    ‘ We
do not covet your lands, Gwydion of the Blaidd,’ laughed Rebellon.
‘Rest assured you can keep your lung tearing mountains and your
foot rotting weather, we have lands enough. What we require are
enough of your horses to draw a hundred chariots.’
    ‘ And
if you fail?’ asked Gwydion, his tone a lot calmer.
    ‘ If
we fail, young man, I fear the loss of two hundred horses will be
the last thing on your mind.’
    ‘ Enough talk!’ interjected Owen. ‘You have had your answer,
Gwydion, the deal is already done. Rebellion’s party will take two
hundred horses from the village. Now, we have business to conclude.
Be on your way.’
    ‘ Wait!’ said a voice from the shadows, and a well-built
warrior stepped into the light. He was dressed in protective tunic
of leather and a fine cape of chain mail hung from his shoulders.
He had a sword strapped to his back and a dagger hung from his
belt.
    ‘ You
are a strange one, boy,’ he said to Gwydion. ‘You come in here,
interrupting a meeting of your betters, demanding that we explain
ourselves to you. What gives you the right?’
    ‘ I
only seek to protect my clan and my tribe, Sire,’ said Gwydion,
‘and if I have offended, then I apologize.’
    ‘ And
I accept your apology,’ said the man, ‘but I am intrigued, your
tenacity is both admirable and annoying. I don’t know whether to
enrol you in my army or have you beaten for your insolence. Where
are you from?’
    ‘ The
Blaidd clan,’ replied Gwydion.
    The amour-clad
man, walked slowly around the table, picking up Gwydion’s purse as
he went.
    ‘ I
don’t recognize the accent. Have you always been with the
Blaidd?’
    ‘ I
was