| Queen of Celts Page 3 |
| Seutonius looked sheepish. “Perhaps I should have told them about Iceni culture before this,” he remarked. He glanced at Scorpio sternly, then nudged him. “Forgive my ignorance,” his assistant finally said, distressed. “I did not mean to insult the King or Queen.” “It’s quite all right,” assured Anfhail, taking a drink of ale. “I suppose this is all very confusing for you.” Her daughters were still gaping. The monarchs and the Romans then discussed the uprising situation to the northwest, and if they could provide food and wool for the Empire. “Since you have plenty of tin and copper, maybe we could give you gold or silk in exchange for your help,” suggested Seutonius. “Silk? Oh, that strange fine material from the East?,” queried Prasutagus. “I should like to make some tunics and skirts from that,” exclaimed Rayell, interested. That was soon decided and everyone started to retire to bed. Anfhail went to her chambers and tried to do some embroidering. It wasn’t as bad as she expected, seeing Seutonius again. But she was still excited and decided to go back to the main hall and peer out the window; she loved the view it gave. She entered the room and was surprised to find Seutonius there. He apparently had the same idea, he was gazing out the window, and he didn’t notice her come in. He had some new lines on his face, and a light dusting of gray at the temples, but it was still the same man she remembered. The same one, fearsome in combat yet possessed of a kind heart. She came up behind him, grinning. “What a spectacular view of the countryside, Queen,” he remarked, his warrior’s sense alerting him to her presence as she approached. Anfhail chuckled. He turned to her after a moment, saying “Have you no friendly words for me, Madame?” “I should think we said everything there was to say to each other, all those years ago,” she declared softly. “And don’t pay any attention to Prasutagus, he was just ribbing you. My daughters were fathered by him, I made sure of that.” “I’m sure, with the aid of your wizard, Aither,” he said. “You don’t hate me, then?” “Nay, I’ve never hated you my dear,” Anfhail replied. “I loved you, you know. We were both very young and unready for the world.” “I wouldn’t have minded, you know,” he said after awhile. “Being a father.” She looked at him, rather surprised. What a strange way for a Roman to think, she thought. “You never remarried after Athweena? Never had children?” “No, after Athena died I never wanted another woman. Besides you.” She caught her breath, was he propositioning her? He ran his hand down her face, his own wearing a look of longing and loss. She stood motionless, befuddled as he kissed her, long and long. When they parted, he asked “Will you join me in my chambers tonight, Madame?” She gritted her teeth. “You have misjudged me, lord. What kind of woman you think me? A--what is it you Romans say, ‘slut‘? Methinks you’ve been in Rome too long.” Seutonius took her hand, troubled. “I merely sought you out to comfort me, for I’ve known you forever. I wasn’t trying to demean you.” The Iceni queen knew he had shown her his heart, and for a Roman that was hard to do in front of a woman. However, she was still incensed. “Have at you, varlet!,” she declared, whipping out the sword she always wore, even under her overdress. He had been similarly prepared, bringing his short Roman blade around to defend himself. Well, she thought, he wasn’t rusty. But neither was she. “Hai, hai, HAH!,” she shouted as they hit blades, again and again. She had height and weight on the man, but he was broad and strong, toughened by years of campaigning. She drove him across the room, then he went on the offensive, striking blow after blow, just as if they were in mortal combat. Rayell was in her older sisters room, discussing their mother’s involvement with the Roman commander. “Can you believe she never told us? And as much as she hates Romans?,” she huffed. Rhianna shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can see why she liked him,” she went on, recalling the way he smiled at Rayell and looked at her mother. “But he scares me. Something makes me uneasy.” Rayell saw the expression on her face and asked, “Did you See something? Does he hurt Mother?” “Nay, nothing like that,” she amended. “But I think we should keep our eyes open.” They heard their mother shouting and the clanging of swords. “Treachery!,” spat Rhianna, both girls scooping up their swords and dashing toward the sound. The girls rushed to the hall, swords in hand. They beheld their mother and Seutonius fighting each other, her skirts swirling and the little braids her hair was braided into bouncing. At the same time the general’s retinue came in from the other side of the room, ready for trouble. They stood gape-mouthed at the scene before them. Anfhail drew Seutonius out toward her, then with a well-executed move disarmed him, his gladius clattering to the floor. She held her sword to his throat, both breathing hard, their eyes locked on each other’s. “Thou hast honored me with this display,” he spoke in passable Old Breton. Anfhail lowered her blade, saying, “Thou art a worthy opponent. Mine honor is satisfied.” Seutonius bent and retrieved his sword, cracking a grin. “WHAT was that all about?,” questioned Prasutagus, who had came in right behind his daughters. “Just some friendly sparring,” answered Anfhail, smiling sweetly at her husband. The Romans were flabbergasted, none of them wished to face an adversary like the Queen of the Iceni. Scorpio was terrified, and afraid for his commander and told him as much when he and Seutonius reached the guest quarters. Seutonius merely brushed it aside. “But how can we rest easy, or trust these barbarians?,” Scorpio persisted. “Look at how they behave. And you’re confusing me, you consort with this barbarian queen? This is not good for your career, sir, however long ago it was,” his slight frame shuddered at that thought. “I realize that,” he snapped. “Corbulo, my greatest contender, would love to use that against me. But I’ll find a way to prevail.” He started pacing, thoughts rolling around his head. Fabian Corbulo had had such brilliant success on the mainland, and Seutonius had planned to rise just as high, he had worked hard and had been loyal to Roma. He didn’t have anything else; he didn’t have Anfhail, and his beloved Athena was gone…so he had concentrated all his energy on his career. Scorpio excused himself and departed, sensing Seutonius’ need to be alone. The King followed Anfhail back to her chambers. When they were inside he demanded “What were you trying to prove just then? It looked like Fionnbar swallowed his heart. Hells, I did.” “Oh? And what was this discussing my love life in front of these prudish Romans?” Prasutagus took a deep breath. “I didn’t think--” “That’s right,” she cut in. “You didn’t think.” “Look at us bickering,” he observed, running his hand through his sandy hair. He took her hands, caressing them. They were warrior’s hands, strong and calloused. She saw him observing them and chuckled, she knew her hands weren’t dainty and feminine. Prasutagus didn’t care, he pulled her forward into his arms. She was stiff at first, then melted in his embrace. |
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