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Chapter 43

The entire garrison was marshalled—some to aid Riothamus and his border force, and others to ride with Aridius and Vitus to further the search. It took most of the day for all the men, equipment, horses, and supplies to be assembled. While all this was taking place, Aridius snatched a night’s rest before he and Vitus led out the troops the following morning, leaving behind a small contingent to guard the garrison.

Well, if my husband’s place was leading the search party, then my place was on my knees in prayer. I would hold vigil at the church and keep a candle burning until my husband returned with my children. Arrangements were made with Brother Theodorus who stayed with me for a time—I kneeling before the altar, and he sitting in the priest’s chair, cross in hand, linking his prayers to mine. Another priest joined us at one point and I must have dozed a little because I awoke with a start having heard once again the distant call of a trumpet. I thought I must have imagined it, or dreamed it. I waited, holding my breath, and the blaring call sounded again.

I jumped up and ran from the church, hurrying along the shadowed paths to the garrison’s main gate. A new-risen sun lit the dawn sky on a clear bright day. Arriving just as the gates were swinging open, I pushed past the gate guards standing in the road. I heard someone shout behind me, but I did not hear what they said, nor did I care. For I had already glimpsed all I needed to see: a small clutch of riders on dark horses, trotting towards the fortress. Though their faces were still too far away to make out clearly, there were two I would have known anywhere. My sons had returned.

I ran down the road to meet them, calling their names, “Aurelius! Uther!” They saw me and put speed to their mounts. A moment or two later, I was caught up in Uther’s strong embrace. He was filthy and smelled of stale sweat, grime, and horse dung, but he was grinning, overjoyed to be home . . . and he was unharmed. Then Aurelius was beside me, his arms around the both of us—each talking over the other so that I could not understand a word they said. That could not have mattered less. They were home and safe, and that was all the world to me in that moment.

And then I was aware that another had joined us. Like me, Aridius had come running at the buccina’s summons; he must also have harbored the secret hope that the trumpet declared their return. Here they were! Aridius, dressed in riding gear ready to depart, greeted his sons with kisses to match my own, and they endured this effusive show of affection with good grace without making too much complaint against it. They were old enough to know what their absence meant to us—as well as its implications for the garrison—so allowed themselves to be pawed and pummeled by one and another of the commanders and soldiers who turned out to greet their return with the enthusiasm of men whose lives had just become a little easier.

As to what had happened to them . . . well, that would come later, and when it did, it came from an unexpected source. Even as we stood in the road outside the gate hailing our lost sons’ return, I became aware that another rider had approached us. I looked up to see a young, dark-haired man sitting on a pale horse, watching the proceedings with a smile on his broad, open face. He looked to be a lord, or at least a warrior of some status for he was arrayed as a British prince with a striped cloak over his shoulder pinned by a silver brooch, a long sword at his side, and an elongated wooden shield; a silver torc gleamed at his neck.

I regarded him and nudged Aridius who took one glance at him and shouted, “Prince Hoel!” The legate left our group and ran to meet this newcomer—a stranger to me, though others seemed to know him.

I watched as Aridius and the chieftain embraced each other and, as they spoke together, I pulled Uther aside and asked, “Who is that? Did he come with you?”

“Ah! That is Prince Hoel, son of King Budic. He brought us here.”

Aurelius, standing nearby, overheard us and added, “The king and his men took part in the search and they were the ones who found us. Budic sent the prince with us to make sure we got home safe.” He looked up at the young man with an expression of admiration and added, “Hoel is a champion warrior.”

“Then I think we owe your friend Hoel and his father a great debt of gratitude,” I concluded. To Aurelius, I said, “Go and invite him to our home for a feast to celebrate your safe return.” He glanced at me, smiled, and I pushed him forward. “Go on. Make certain he accepts.”

The legion stood down, and the garrison resumed its pursuit of daily affairs. The homecoming of the captives would be all the talk of the next few days, to be sure; and the tale of how the dauntless boys had gained their freedom would be told and retold. Word spread like lightning-struck fire throughout the province and soon there was not a hamlet or holding that had not heard about the daring escape of Aurelius and Uther, the legate’s valiant sons. Their fame was ensured and, I strongly suspect, their fate as well.

Bathed, their hair combed and dressed, and wearing clothes that did not stink of the pig sty, our wayward sons led a host of friends and well-wishers into the courtyard. The sun was well down and after a hectic day’s preparation our overjoyed cook and servants had assembled a passable feast. Aridius, in his official robes, greeted the guests—more than a few he’d invited himself—and welcomed them with a fine speech in honor of the returned prodigals. Then all trooped into the villa’s large reception hall—the one used mainly for grand occasions or to host visiting dignitaries of one kind or another—among boards spread with the finest fare that could be secured at a morning’s notice: from toasted almonds and meatballs wrapped in vine leaves to a whole roast pig stuffed with apples. There were brined olives, and parsnips and carrots boiled and served in olive oil, and chick peas with cheese. One platter held a brace of braised partridges, and rabbits roasted and stuffed with prunes. For fish there was mackerel—grilled, or boiled and swimming in a wine sauce, and herring strips pickled with sliced onions. One of the boards offered a haunch of roast venison and one of beef—sliced and arrayed on platters. There were dried dates and figs—from some southern province or other—as well as sweet pastry made of flour, honey, and ground walnuts; peaches halved and lightly boiled, and served in sweet cream. There was wine, of course, the best we could find, in jars scattered about, as well as beer and mead.

The great room was lit with a multitude of candles and rush lights on stands along the walls and torches in in sconces. There was not room, or chairs enough, to seat our guests so everyone helped themselves from the platters and tureens, filling their bowls and cups as they pleased with servants standing by to assist, filling the cups and replenishing the platters.

In attendance were several garrison officials, one or two who had taken part in the failed Theng, and three clerics from the church with Brother Theodorus. Among those of special honor was Hoel, Prince of the son of King Budic—an affable, well-made lad of sunny demeanor and, I soon discovered, already the master of the assured and easy authority of a true leader. Although I expect he had heard the story once or twice already, he smiled and nodded with genuine interest as the story was related over and again among the guests at the hall, and between the boys who stood with Ari and me and some others to describe what had happened.

“It was all Uther’s idea,” Aurelius said, slapping his brother on the back. “We wouldn’t be here now if not for his sly ways.”

“It wasn’t only me,” Uther countered, pushing back a little from his brother’s praise. “It was Auri who deceived them.” He grinned in admiration, adding, “Even I thought he was dying!”

“Oh, but I never would have thought of it,” Aurelius continued with the tale. “It was all down to Uther and his quick thinking.”

“Will no one say what happened?” exclaimed Aridius. “Tell us!”

“Yes!” I cried. “Before all the food is gone. And do start at the beginning.”

Aurelius takes a sip of watered wine to wet his tongue and takes up the tale. “Well, Uther and I were back at the camp with some of the soldiers—all of us waiting for all the talking to finish—”

“There was so much talking—” huffed Uther. “Three days! It went on forever. . . .”

“—anyway we wearied of sitting on our rumps, so Uther and I decided to go practice with our swords—”

“Da made us stay in camp all day,” complained Uther. “There was nothing for us to do.”

“I warned you it would be that way,” objected Aridius, raising a feeble defense. “I told you both before we left—”

I stamped my foot and cried, “Will everyone just stop!” I looked to each of them in turn. “You know I cannot understand you when you all talk at once.” There were murmurs of apology. “So, just one at a time tell it slow and clear or we’ll never find out what happened.” I flicked a threatening glance to Uther and Aridius, then looked to Aurelius and urged him, “Just ignore them. Go on.”

Aurelius began again. “We were tired of waiting in camp—”

“You said that. Go on.”

“Well, Vitus was with us but got called away—up to the talks or something. Anyway, we couldn’t find him. There was a stream near the camp so Utha and me went down with our swords to practice. And that is where the Saecsens found us. We didn’t hear them come up. They just suddenly burst out from the bushes and fell upon us. This big hairy one—Cynric, I think his name was, seized our weapons—”

“They tied us up!” exclaimed Uther, excitement lighting his face. “They used horsehide rope.” He thrust out his hands to show the red rings still visible around his wrists. “Then they put us on horses and we were taken away.”

“North, I think,” continued Aurelius. “We were taken north to somewhere across the border, I think—to this old villa. It was mostly ruins, but there were people living there, and it was made into a kind of stronghold behind a timber wall and there were all these little hovels and houses and cattle pens. The place stank to heaven.”

“Stink! It was worse than that!” cried Uther, laughing. “Cynric put us in a pig shed—with the pigs! We were there two days. That first night we got some stew in a bowl and a jar of water, so we didn’t get too hungry. We tried to talk to the woman who brought it, but it was no good. She couldn’t understand a word of Briton, or Latin, either.”

“The next day,” resumed Aurelius, “it was the same. Cynric sent one of his men to look on us. He said something we couldn’t understand, and we asked for water, making a drinking motion with our hands. A little while later the same woman came with food and a fresh jar.

“And we’re all the time wondering what are they going to do with us?” said Uther.

“Probably they had plans to ransom us somehow,” Aurelius continued, “Anyway, that night Uther said that one knows where we are. We’ve got to break out of here. So, we started making plans.”

“We talked it through most all night,” Uther said, taking over the telling. “By morning, we were ready. We waited all day, but then we heard people stirring outside the pig hut, and I gave Aurelius the nod.” He nodded, and pointed at his brother. “And Auri starts in moaning and groaning. I watch the yard through a crack in the wattle and signaled for him to get louder every time someone came near. It wasn’t long before one of them heard us and went to fetch someone. That same woman—Cynric’s wife, maybe—came again looked in—and here was Auri rolling around in the dirt, doubled up, clutching his gut, and moaning and groaning like he’d swallowed a snake.”

Aurelius pointed back at his brother. “And Utha starts in shouting that I’m sick and to run fetch help,” Aurelius laughs, and I notice how easily he has made a glad memory of his still-fresh misfortune. “This woman takes one look at me and hies back to the hall and all of a sudden Cynric comes running to see what is the matter.”

“Oh, Auri put on like he was dying,” said Uther. “I keep shouting, ‘Help! Help!’ And Cynric is looking so worried. He doesn’t know what to do. Off he runs and comes back with another woman, an old one with a wrinkled face—one of their healers, I think. She looks at Auri and I make a motion like eating and then point to him rolling around in all that pig shit and rolling his eyes. I do this a few times before she finally understands. She takes over then and the first thing she does is order Cynric to take Auri out of the pig hut and carry him to her house.”

“She lived in this little hovel of mud and sticks outside the villa,” said Aurelius, “but it was clean and smelled of lavender. So, a couple of Saecsens pick me up and carry me out to the yard and clean me up as best they can. Then they take me and lay me in her house and she starts in making potions and such, and talking to me all the while, but I don’t understand a single word she’s saying.”

“But I’m left alone the pig hut,” grumped Uther. “That wasn’t part of our plan, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Now I’m all alone and wishing I was the one to get carried out.”

Aurelius nods, and resumes his side of the story. “The healer woman gave me a potion that tasted like rotten eggs and it made me throw up. My God—but it was devilish stuff.” Shaking his head, he glanced at the priest, and said, “I’m sorry, brother, but that is the truth. Then old healer burned some dry leaves and bark, and waved the smoke over me. Then she told me to rest. ‘Slepan,’ she says. So I pretend to doze off. She sits awhile and watches me and when she thinks I’m asleep, off she goes to the king’s hall to give him a report maybe, I don’t know—anyway, I’m left alone.”

“By now its getting dark,” said Uther. “And I’m almost asleep myself, but I hear a hiss outside and the door cracks open and there’s Auri saying, ‘Wake up! We’ve got to fly!’ So off we go.”

“We don’t know where we’re going, but we start down the road—and,” Aurelius stopped and turned a knowing smile on Uther, and said, “—and here is where Utha shows his how smart he is. We only just get beyond sight of the holding and Utha stops in the middle of the road and says, ‘We can’t go this way. They’ll find us sure and certain. We’ve got to go there.’ And he points to this field. ‘That’s the wrong direction!’ I tell him. And Utha says, ‘That’s why they won’t look there first. We’ll circle around and then head south.’ So, we get ourselves across a barley field and into the woods as fast as we can go—not easy in the dark, but we did it!” he crowed. “We’re free!”

“We weren’t free yet,” amended Uther, shaking his head. “Not until we could get help or horses and somehow find our way back. I only hoped we could get as far as we could before they discovered we’d escaped and came after us.”

“We ran so hard,” said Aurelius, taking up the tale again. “And all the time we’re listening for them. We made a wide circle around and then headed off south and west. We came to a stream and walked down it a fair way before climbing out and running on. Well, this goes on until at last we can’t run anymore, and we stopped to rest. . . .”

“We were laying there, panting like spent hounds,” said Uther, “and by then it was getting near dawn and we were tired. So, we hide in a ditch and go to sleep.”

“I slept first,” said Aurelius, “while Utha kept watch.”

Uther laughed, “But I fell asleep, too, after awhile.”

“When we woke up again, it was near midday. So, we waited until the sun started going down and then moved on. We were so hungry, but we can’t find anything so we just keep walking, hoping to get somewhere safe. We didn’t stop again until morning. We rested again through the day—except for trying to find some berries and water. By then we were both starving, so when we came upon a track, we decided to risk it. We’d been staying off the road and trails up to then. We hadn’t gone far when we heard someone coming through the wood. We left the track and hunkered down behind the biggest tree we could find and prayed they wouldn’t see us. . . .”

“We held our breath and hoped for the best . . .”

Here both boys turned to Hoel, who stood looking on with arms folded, beaming.

“That was where Hoel and his men found us,” said Aurelius.

Aridius, standing next to the prince, turned and slapped the young man on the back. I could see my husband struggling to contain his feelings in that moment, as I was struggling myself.

“God be praised!” cried Theodorus, raising his hands.

“Budic took part in the talks,” Aridius explained. “He and his men rode out when we learned that the boys were gone.”

“My father dispatched some of his warriors to the border to keep watch and take account of any movement,” Hoel said. “I led some men to search to the south. We found them on the road, just as Aurelius said.” He offered a modest shrug. “The escape was all their own doing, we just found them and brought them back.

“And for that we are grateful,” said Aridius. Raising his wine cup, he called, “Please, everyone, we drink to Hoel and King Budic, with hearty thanks for their loyalty and service.”

“A blessing on you and on your father’s house!” added one of the garrison officials, slightly in his cups.

“A blessing!” we echoed as we all lifted our cups to a slightly embarrassed young man. He accepted our tribute with good grace as we drank and then Hoel rose and lifted his cup. “Let us also drink to friendship among all Britons, and peace among the peoples.”

And so we did.

The meal resumed and there was more talk and wine followed by more food and sweet things. Night was drawing on by the time we quit the hall, made our farewells, and went our separate ways. In bed, I lay a long time thinking about all that had happened and how very resourceful and brave my boys had been. What danger might have befallen them did not bear thinking about. Even so, I went to my sleep with the thought that perhaps what had happened had turned out for the best.

After all, my boys had learned a valuable lesson in courage and self-reliance. God knows, they would have need of both in years to come.



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