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

fostered to the Catuvellauni as a child, Sire, and grew up in
the court of Cunobelinus, the ward of a Roman slave. Despite my
Deceangli bloodline, I still carry some accent.’
    The warrior
stopped and looked back.
    ‘ You
were taught by a Roman?’
    ‘ Yes
Sire, a slave captured in Gaul and sold to Cunobelinus as one of
many. They were all sacrificed by the Druids to gain him honour,
but her life was spared as she was of particular beauty.
    ‘ How
long were you in the care of this Roman slave?’
    ‘ Fourteen years.’
    ‘ Can
you speak her tongue?’
    ‘ I
can, and I also know their writing.’
    The man
approached Gwydion again.
    ‘ I
like you, Gwydion of the Blaidd,’ he said, tossing the purse up and
down in his palm, ‘you remind me of myself when I was your age.’
Without taking his eyes off Gwydion, he called out across the
hall.
    ‘ Guard, cut out twenty of the best horses and have them
delivered to the Blaidd by nightfall tomorrow.’ He tossed Gwydion
the purse containing the gold. ‘I have no need of your money,
Gwydion,’ he said, ‘but I may have need of someone like you. Now,
take your leave!’
    ‘ You
have the gratitude of my clan, Sire,’ said Gwydion and turned to
leave. Just as he was about to walk through the door he turned
again to face the warrior.
    ‘ Forgive me my ignorance, Sire,’ he said, ‘but you have me at
a disadvantage, you know my name, but I know not yours.’
    Owen stepped
forward.
    ‘ Gwydion of the Blaidd,’ he said, ‘you address Idwal of the
Deceangli. Now be gone, for we have business to attend.’
    Gwydion was led
away to his horse, picking up his weapons on the way, dumbstruck
that he had actually just met Idwal, famed leader and true blood
warrior King of the Deceangli.
    ----

Chapter
5
     
    Cassus knew he
was in trouble long before he opened his eyes. Subconsciously, he
knew there should be pain, but something told him that if he just
stayed still, he wouldn’t have to face it. A disgusting smell
forced itself into his nostrils, making him gag and he lay still,
not quite sure where he was or what had happened. A distant voice
forced its way through his foggy senses.
    ‘ Wake up,’ said Prydain, ‘Cassus, come on, we have to
go.’
    ‘ Go
away,’ grunted Cassus, though the words that emerged bore no
resemblance to those intended.
    ‘ Cassus you have to wake up now,’ insisted Prydain quietly.
When again there was little response, Prydain looked around in
desperation, his eyes falling on the water pitcher. Picking it up,
he hesitated for a second before pouring the contents over his
semi-comatose friend.
    The effect was
instant, and Cassus would have screamed had his throat not been so
dry and his tongue as woolly as a camel’s scrotum. He forced
himself up off the floor and onto his knees, gasping to catch his
breath.
    ‘ What the fuck,’ he gasped, struggling to form the
words.
    ‘ Come on!’ hissed Prydain. ‘We have to be at the circus at
dawn so shift your arse.’
    Cassus’s brain
slowly started to make sense of the situation. He put his hand
gingerly to his hair. It was sticky and matted to his head. He
groaned as he realized the source of the smell. He had thrown up in
his sleep and his head was covered in vomit.
    ‘ Water!’ he gasped.
    ‘ I
think not,’ said Prydain. ‘That’s good old fashioned
puke.’
    ‘ No,’ he croaked, ‘I need water.’
    Prydain looked
around again, but he had poured the only water available over
Cassus. He peered inside the jug.
    ‘ There’s some left,’ he said, ‘but not much.’
    Cassus snatched
it from Prydain’s hands, holding it up high as he drained the last
few precious mouthfuls.
    ‘ Get
me more,’ he ordered, holding the jug up.
    ‘ No
time,’ said Prydain, ‘we have to go.’
    ‘ Do
as you’re told, Prydain,’ he said. ‘There is plenty of time. The
circus is only around the corner.’ He pinched the bridge of his
nose between his fingers and blew the contents onto the