Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 28

One of my new men was an eager young man named Alwyn. He was a big, solid looking lad and I was reasonably certain that his mother must have run afoul of an Angle raiding party for he had the look of one with his straw-coloured hair and bright blue eyes. He was a serious young man, worried about how the other men perceived him but he had a good heart and a quick smile, and the other men took to him with a speed I was slightly envious of, thinking about how hard I had had to work to feel like one of the men.

Growing up on the borderlands, he spoke the Angle language fluently also. I could speak enough to have a slow conversation with somebody who was happy to believe that I was an idiot. I would need his language skills though.

For two nights we made our way through the shadowed countryside, camping in woodlands throughout the days as we moved further away from the river. As we moved further east, away from the Disputed Lands the population grew much denser. Farms became more condensed and the settlements seemed to overspill and we had to start travelling through the day so not to draw attention to ourselves by the dogs that barked at us as we passed. We were going east instead of directly south for the Roman roads, and crossing the stone bridges over wide rivers. The ground, as we went east became slightly more hilly and Alwyn looked around approvingly. 'This is good land.' Hs said softly. He was talking in Angle, for I insisted we did not want to heard talking British, and I felt that it would at least improve my knowledge of the language.

I understood Alwyn's words, but did not know enough of the language to frame an answer. Instead I looked at the countryside around. The ground was rich and green and much of it was being farmed. The hills were small and rolling and did not affect the quality of the farmland. A wood that had once been heavy was encroaching back towards the road that carved through the land. The trees were young and thin, but the base of them were thick with bushes and ferns.

Below the pale clouds birds flew. Their songs added a charming beauty to land that promised blood death to my people. I was not seeing farmland. I was looking at the woods that ran close to the road as a good place for an ambush. The slope of the hill was deceptive, appearing gentler that it was and would sap the legs from an army climbing up it, especially if formed into a shield wall.

'I don't know farmland.' I spoke in British, and my voice was touched with sadness at myself, at the inability to judge simple beauty for what it was. I was becoming a warrior, and a leader of warriors and that seemed to be affecting how I looked at the world.

'A lot of the land in the east is good.' Alwyn was oblivious to my tone; he too spoke in British now. 'My grandfather says it's because the land is so well irrigated with blood. Men will always fight over good land.'

'Men will fight over anything.' I forced a grin, thinking predominantly of women. God however, came into my head and I thought about the riots in Viroconium and those who died there in the name of religion. Then again, I thought with a sudden return of good humour, I had once seen two men come to blows over whether or not they thought it would rain that day.

We made our way across the country, leaving the small Roman road behind for the hard mud of the brown dirt road that was little more than two deep wheel ruts etched into the ground. We followed this road to Venta Icenorum, the old Roman settlement where a small road was known to lead down to Camulodunum, nearby to the Angle town of Rendlaesham, which was our destination.

As we sat by a campfire one evening a dog came from nowhere, with a harsh shout following it. An old man came out of the shadows with a long rope in hand. 'Come here you bastard.' He spoke in British. 'Heel.'

The dog, a big black beast whose tongue was very pink in the darkness and was now sniffing eagerly at the broth in the wooden bowl we had made. There was not much there, but I dipped my finger in the still steaming broth and offered it to the dog who licked it from my finger. Then I realised what language the man had spoken in.