125 AD Chester’s Fort, Britannia
It’s quiet when I leave the bed of my husband. I fear to
wake him. Yet he sleeps hard and deep. A soldier cutting stone to build a wall,
he is exhausted daily. The most Northern
point of the Roman Empire and commanded to build a wall. His anger is brittle unlike the gray stone he
chisels. His rage would be unequaled if he found that I have forsaken him for a
Brittunculi. A cruel slur for the people
of the island we conquered.
Near the
door I take off my fine gold filigreed betrothal ring and place it in a bowl. It
states my name and a plea to God, a small prayer that Amelia may live. I slip
on my sandals. The leather is cool and smooth upon my feet as I walk away from
our house. The house sits outside Hadrian’s Wall not within. In a village below
the gates and fort, it is filled with artisans, a butcher and soldiers.
There is a guard on the wall above me but I slip past him
unnoticed in the dark shadows. I walk to the bathhouse. A thing of beauty to
make us Romans fill at home and warm after leaving the Mediterranean weather.
Inside the high stone ceilings and walls are painted white and embellished with
art. In this room painted dolphins with cherubs upon their backs soar above me.
Alcoves are built within the walls with windows to look out at the lush green
land, saturated with rain.
The moon shines through the skylights illuminating my way. I slip my sandals off and pull my dark blue nightdress over my head. My long hair cascades with the movement and tickles my back as it swings across it. The floors are heated. My unclad feet inhale the floors warmth as I cross the room. I step down into the tub recessed in the floor. The water so warm, embraces me and my toes sting with the heat.
He waits for me in the water. The arms of a Pict heavily
tattooed in woad darkened to indigo surround me. His hands brush my hips and my
stomach. Ahhhh I moan as he cups my breasts with his dark hands. He is magic my
Merlin. His hands and tongue are enchanted.
“Leave with me.” He whispers in my ear and I shiver as his
tongue travels down delicately from below the back of my ear to the pulse at
the base of my neck.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” I reply in a desperate whisper.
Through the forest below the towering fifteen foot wall they
chase us. Merlin grips my hand tightly as we run. One sandal catches in the
soft clay near a sacred Oak. A pull, a hard tug and the leather band between my
toes snaps. I nearly fall with the
freedom and the pull of his hand. The shoe must stay behind I have no time. I
pull the other off my foot and carry it in my free hand as we race west to
outrun the wall.
