"Does the regal one like to gallop?"
"Give me the other for my barn! She's got the butt of my horse, the udders of my cow, and the pout of my prettiest sow!"
Valeria sat straight, determined to maintain aristocratic indifference. You are a daughter of Rome! Secretly, she feared she was about to be raped.
Caratacus motioned for quiet again. "And as guests of the clan of Caratacus, tribe of the Attacotti, land of the Caledonians, these women are to be treated as you'd treat your mother or sister. These captives are weapon and resource if treated well; useless if foolishly harmed. I say to them now that I guarantee their safety with my own heart and arm-and if any trespass against them, then they have trespassed against me." He glanced around in challenge. His warning briefly subdued the crowd.
"And trespassed against me," another rough voice added. Valeria felt a shock of recognition at the sound. Cassius! It was her bodyguard, who'd disappeared at the ambush. "I protected her once, and I'll do so again," the ex-gladiator told his new clan. "I had no quarrel with the girl when I ran to freedom." He shouldered his way to the front of the crowd, more thickly muscled than any of them, now a great Celtic sword at his side.
Arden nodded and went on. "I've freed the fat one named Savia, but she'll work in the Great House as she worked for Rome. Eventually she'll choose her own future. The skinny one is called Valeria, and she's going to tell us more about her husband and his men. Don't insult her, for she's a great lady in the city of Rome."
They hooted in derision, laughing at their great lady.
"No, listen!" Arden protested. "We can learn from her!"
"Learn arrogance and corruption and crushing taxation!" one man shouted.
"Learn treachery and ruthlessness!" added another.
"Valeria will learn from us in turn: the pleasure of life among the free and proud Attacotti!" At this they roared approval. There was promise and a glint of humor in his eyes as he looked at her then, as if he knew her heart and understood her fears. She found it disquieting that he believed he could understand anything at all about her, and disturbing to find herself grateful for his small charities. This man was her husband's enemy and friend's killer. "She'll live among us and become one of us."
"And which bed will she share, Arden Caratacus?" one woman cackled.
He looked solemn. "Whichever she chooses, like any Celtic woman. She'll begin in the Great House as guest, and have her maid for company if the freed woman Savia agrees."
Heads turned to the maidservant.
"I'll not leave my mistress no matter what you proclaim," Savia said, her voice quavering but her words unexpectedly brave. "I, too, am a woman of Rome, and I still serve my lady." She stiffly got off her horse, legs buckling for a moment, and then walked unsteadily to help Valeria dismount as well. The two women stood in the mud and held each other against the tall people who surrounded them, the men powerful, the women lovely and haughty, the children curious and impudent, their dogs pushing to sniff and whine.
"I'm terrified of being alone with these savages," the slave whispered.
"They've freed you, Savia."
"I'm terrified of depending on myself."
The rectangular Great House dominated the hill fort like a forum's temple or a castle's keep, its forty-foot height and two-hundred-foot length evidence of more sophisticated construction than Valeria had expected the Celts could produce. Its pillars were made of intricately carved pine, birds riding curved vines that climbed in swirls up the length of each column. Beams ended in the sculpted and painted heads of dragons and unicorns and gaping gods. Painted moons and stars were scattered across the tall door. Pictured horses, sinuous and galloping, circled the otherwise gray and weathered wood of the building's periphery as black-and-white abstractions. It was as intricate a construction as her trousseau chest from Rome, and infinitely larger. How had these rude people built such a thing? How had they even dragged the trees?
Inside, high windows under the building's eaves let in a cross-hatch of light from glassless openings that could be shuttered against storms. Smoke had stained the interior dark, but in compensation the side aisles and rafters were decorated with bright banners, woven tapestries, painted shields, and crossed spears. Horns and heads of trophy animals were mounted on every pillar. Underfoot were rush mats to catch the courtyard mud. The long oaken tables smelled of wood, smoke, and beer.
It was here that the clan of Arden Caratacus gathered each evening to eat, boast, sing, and plot. Here that legend and druidic lore was passed on, generation after generation. Here that information was traded, gossip spawned, lies told and challenged, quarrels settled, flirtations started, children spanked, games played, cups filled, dogs fed, and cats left to hunt mice in the alcoves.
Wood-paneled sleeping cells opened off the communal hall. It was to one of these that Brisa, the archer, and Cassius, the escaped slave, led Valeria and Savia.
"Since you don't have man or family, you'll sleep here," Brisa said. The chamber had two wooden sleeping platforms piled with wool fleece and furs, a copper basin to wash in, and a scrubbed board floor. There was a tapestry of a fantastic forest, woven in rainbow colors, a table with a bronze hand mirror, and a shelf with rank of candles. The wax smelled of berries and the sea. It was plain, but clean.
"Are you going to lock us in?" Savia asked, peering from the threshold.
"There's no need. You've nowhere to go."
"Can we lock others out?" Valeria asked.
"None will bother you."
"I sleep nearby," Cassius said, "and I'll protect you as I did before. Don't fear, lady, you're safer here than on the streets of Rome."
"Not very reassuring, Cassius, after your desertion in the forest."
He bowed his head. "That wasn't meant as insult to you. I know how Roman soldiers mock gladiators, and I'd no desire to live among them. I was dreading the Wall."
"These people treat you like a prince, it seems."
"I'm free, lady, and not just by being my own master. I'm free in ways hard to explain. You'll understand in time."
Savia sniffed. "It's a rude and primitive place you're free in, Cassius."
"And you, too, woman. Arden told me what he granted you."
She blushed.
"What's going to happen to us?" Valeria asked.
Brisa shrugged. "Only the gods know that. The gods and the druids."
Valeria felt apprehensive at mention of their priests. While Marcus had tried to keep the ghastly tales from her, slaves kept nothing secret. She'd heard the rumors of human sacrifice. "I've seen no druids here," she said with faint hope. "Only that cocky thief who brought us here, this Caratacus."
"He's a chieftain, not a thief. And Kalin, priest of the sacred oak, will be here tonight like the midnight owl."
"Who's Kalin?"
"The druid who advises our clan. He fought your Romans in the sacred grove."
"Why is he coming here?"
"To see you, of course."
"Am I to be ransomed?" It was a polite way to ask if she was going to be killed.
"You're asking as if it were my decision to make," the Celtic woman said, not unkindly. "Or Cassius, or Arden, or Kalin. But you're north of the Wall now, Roman. Maybe it will be you who decides your fate. You and your goddess. Maybe your future is already cast by the runes and the stars."
"Or by the one true god, the Lord Jesus," Savia spoke up.
"Who?" Brisa asked.
"The Savior of us all," the maidservant said.
"I haven't heard of this god."
"He's the new god of the Roman world. Even the emperor worships him."
"And what kind of god is he?"
"A good and meek one," Savia said. "He was killed by Roman soldiers."
The woman laughed. "This is your savior? A god who can't save himself?"