Free Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk by Griff Hosker Page B

need each other’s warmth.” As she cuddled in to him Marcus wondered if he had been too hasty with his words for he felt a stirring in his loins he had not felt before but he then thought back to his mother, Ailis, and how she had been a slave used by others and how his father had waitied until they could be married and Metellus, his mentor, had also waited with Nanna the other Brigante slave. He sighed as he heard the gentle breathing of the sleeping girl; he had been brought up too well with too much honour.
    The next day and the ones which followed were a pleasant interlude for the Roman decurion. Trygg had had warm clothes provided for Marcus and insisted that the girl spend every waking hour teaching him their language. It was on the third day that Marcus noticed a sadness which seemed to hang about the girl.  “What is the matter Frann? Am I not learning quickly enough?” Marcus had been really trying to learn the language, partly to please Frann but also so that he would know what the barbarians were saying.
    There was a wry smile on the old face of the young girl.  “You are learning too well for once you can speak to them why would they need me for you?  I would go back to being…”
    Marcus was horrified.  He had not thought it through.  “I will learn slowly then, so that I can never speak their words and will always need you.”
    “That would not work. They would blame me and there are other girls. Lars would love that to happen and then he could get his hands on me.”
    “Lars?”
    She gestured subtly with her head to a huge bear of a man who lurched past.  Marcus had noticed him giving them both queer looks.  He had a huge scar running down his face, through a whitened dead eye, and finishing near his mouth giving a strange lopsided grin making look like a simpleton.  It was a frightening appearance. “My father did that to him when they attacked us, before he killed my father.  He was the one who killed my sister and he swore he would do the same to me.”
    “I will tell this chief that if he does not let you stay with me I will not tell him what he wants to know.”
    “But they would then torture you.”
    “That would be preferable to what he would do to you.”
    “You would do that for me?”
    “I would.” Marcus sounded defiant but he wondered how long he would hold out.  He hoped it would be until his death but he was not certain.
    “Thank you for that but it would do no good for they would just torture me to get you to talk.” She kissed him on the cheek, “And I know that you would.”
    With a sinking heart Marcus could see no way out of the dilemma. At the same time a thought wormed its way into his consciousness. If the Allfather had saved him so far and the Parcae brought him together with Frann then it must be for a purpose. He needed to hold fast and keep faith.  He was convinced that they would both escape this trap.  Then just as quickly as the hope rushed into him it was taken away as he remembered the other deity who liked to play with men’s minds, suppose Morwenna and the Mother were toying with him and giving him false hope. Suppose they had brought him here to take away not only the sword and his freedom but the bright young girl who had leapt into his life.
     
     
     

Chapter 5
    Marcus stood before Trygg in the main hall.  The only other people who were there were Frann, Snorri and a young shaman, Karl Sigambrisson. Frann stood just behind Marcus and Trygg addressed her over Marcus’ head. “Let us see what you have taught this young Roman, slave.”
    “She has taught words Chief Trygg.” The words sounded awkward and he still did not have all the words he needed but Trygg was impressed.
    “You have all our words Roman?”
    “Not yet. Have some.”
    Trygg nodded. “Then you stay slave in case he does not understand. Tell me Roman how do you ride the horse?”
    Marcus looked up at the chief as though he had not understood and the chief repeated his