Between Two Worlds [Excerpt Only] | NOW A PUBLISHED NOVEL

Prologue

Justus saluted once more and then left, marching with long strides to the gate and the town beyond.

'Halt! What be the password?' the guard shouted from atop the gate, shattering the peaceful evening silence.

Justus checked at the sentry's loud voice, hesitating a moment as his mind raced to remember the two words that would allow him entry beyond the garrison's walls.

'Caligo sanguis.' Blood mist.

Justus was struck with the irony of it all, but did not have time to dwell on it. A moment later, the gates opened and the young centurion passed through, walking purposefully through the cluttered streets of Durovernum Cantiacorum.

Away from the marketplace, the Roman buildings disappeared. Only the round, earthen huts of the Britons remained, scattered here and there with smoke rising lazily from their thatched roofs. As in all things, it seemed, the British peoples remained resilient against Roman rule, quietly living as if the Roman invasion had never taken place. Justus wondered how many of these Celts would join up against his cohort when they learned of the coming attack.

Within a few minutes, he reached the bothy on the outskirts of the town and knocked firmly on the door. The tiny street was deserted at this hour of the day, since most were supping the evening meal.

The door opened to reveal the pale features of his friend Halwyn. 'Justus. What bringeth thee here at this time?'

'I cannot discuss it out in the open.'

Halwyn nodded and opened the door wider.

Justus slipped inside and blinked as darkness descended. Yellow light from the center hearth spilled onto the floor, illuminating the simple interior. In one corner was a loom, and in another lay straw pallets stacked upon each other. Halwyn's wife was bent over the fire, stirring something that bubbled and filled the air with a mouth-watering smell. Yet Justus's gaze merely brushed over these things, seeking for the shadow that arose at his entrance and came towards him.

He embraced Brenyn tightly, feeling her slender form tremble slightly as she breathed. Releasing her, he spoke softly in the Celtic tongue. 'Brenyn, I need to speak with thee.'

'Speak. I am listening.'

Glancing at Halwyn and his wife, who attempted to give them privacy, Justus motioned for Brenyn to sit back down in the corner. He inhaled deeply before speaking, feeling ever more strongly the desperation of the situation. 'Hast thou received recent news from thy mother?'

Brenyn's gaze flickered up and met his. 'If thou speakest of the rebellion, I have indeed received news of it. But my mother has not sent word to me since I wrote to her of my safe presence in Durovernum Cantiacorum.' She hesitated in speaking the long Roman name.

'Brenyn.' He took her cold, slender hands and held them gently. 'My legion, as much of us as are stationed here, must fight thy people a few days hence to liberate the town they have captured.'

Anger flashed in her eyes. 'My people are only taking revenge for what they have lost. Surely thee, of all the Romans, would best understand why they do this.' Her next words were forced out between clenched teeth. 'Thy people raped and murdered my sister before my mother's eyes, treated my mother shamefully, and whipped her besides. They stole our lands and enslaved my people...' Her voice softened. 'Thou wert not like them and for that I forgave thee. Thou lovest me, and I thee. But it changes not what they have done.'

'I know.' Justus pursed his lips in silence. 'Should I fight alongside my men, I would be slaying thy kind. And should I keep loyalty to thy tribe, I would be accounted a traitor to my own...I am caught between two worlds. There is no place for me in this, and yet I have no choice. I cannot shirk my duty. Cowardice is looked on kindly by neither thy people nor mine.'

The anger was gone from her eyes now, and only a bitter pain remained in its stead—the same pain that throbbed in his own chest and caught in his throat.

'I understand,' she said.

He gazed into her eyes and tried to memorize every detail of her fair face, knowing he might never see her again. 'I fear for thee. Wrathful men do not see reason, and they will slay all in their path.'

'Where will I go? There is no place for me, just as there is none for thee.'

Neither of them spoke for a time, Brenyn waiting for an answer, and Justus knowing there was none to give.

'I will do what I can,' he said at last. 'I must go; I have to return before curfew. I shall attempt to send word before we march.' He rose to his feet.

Halwyn and his wife glanced up from their stew as he rose, then returned to their food, still attempting to give Justus and Brenyn an appearance of privacy.

The babe in the cradle at his feet whimpered, and Brenyn bent to pick him up. 'Say farewell to thy son before thou goest.'

Something within Justus broke and he swallowed hard. He took the child in his arms, feeling the vividness of living warmth envelop him. He stared into his son's large, dark eyes and the child blinked, another mewl escaping his tiny mouth. Black, silky feathers of hair brushed against Justus' arm, soft against his skin. He bent and kissed his son's forehead before returning him to his mother, regret staining this bittersweet farewell.

Justus watched his wife as she placed the babe back in his cradle, feeling he had no right to ask affection of her, since soon he would be forced to slay her kinsmen.

She knew this and yet did not shrink away. Locking her arms around his neck, she breathed into his ear, 'When I wed thee, I knew, as perhaps thou didst not, what this might cost me. Now our love must be tested. May it hold strong in the face of bloodshed and cruel loss.'

Words failed him and he did not speak for some time. 'If anything happens and I perish on the battlefield, go to my uncle. Tell him Lucius is his grandnephew. I will send him word by my own hand.' Then he bent and kissed her farewell.