The Stolen Throne

I - The Debt

I

Debitum

‘The Debt’

October - A.D. 210

Summer was ended, and the cold, damp cling of autumn had spread over the expanses of southern Britannia as the month of October arrived. The one-time summer sky was now assaulted with sharp clouds which Boreas blew across the land. The rains had not started yet, but their windy herald had arrived to chill mornings and evenings in every home and villa estate.

The three horsemen had left the deep green embankments of the hillfort just after Apollo’s light had cracked the distant horizon. They had passed through the southwestern gatehouse and followed the winding path down and around to join the Roman road to Lindinis where they would continue on the Fosse Way to Isca.

They had a long journey ahead.

Lucius Metellus Anguis reined in his dapple grey stallion, Lunaris, and turned to take a last look at the place that had become his family’s home since his forced furlough from command.

His companions, Lucius’ princeps and a Sarmatian king, Dagon, and the loyal Briton, Einion, son of Cunnomore, stopped a little past Lucius and waited as he stared at the distant hill.

Lucius felt the pull of the fortress, his family safe within the high green embankments where gnarled oak trees sprouted from the earth and crows dove in the sky above. He had not wanted to leave Adara and the children, not then, after so many months of joy and summer sun, but his companion, his friend, was in need and Lucius owed him a debt.

Whenever that selfish part of Lucius told him he need not go, he remembered that night in Caledonia when Einion and his sister Briana had saved him from assassins’ blades in the middle of the fort of Bertha, in the heart of the Dragon’s Lair. He would not have seen his family again were it not for the twin brother and sister whom the Gods had sent to aid him.

When word had come to Einion of the desolation being wrought in his ancestral lands by his tyrant uncle, Lucius had known exactly what he had to do, though he did not relish the thought. He reminded himself that he was not the only one leaving behind a loved one, for Dagon, he knew, longed to remain with Briana who had agreed to stay behind to help watch Lucius’ family instead of helping her brother to take back their stolen kingdom.

Early that morning, before the light, Lucius had knelt in the temple of Apollo which he had built upon the hill with his own hands. In the light of the bronze brazier, incense smoke surrounding him, protecting him, he had prayed to Apollo, and to Venus and Epona to guard him on his journey into the southwestern reaches of Dumnonia. More so, he had asked them to protect Adara, Phoebus, and Calliope while he was away.

For some reason, he had been filled with dread of late. This surprised him. Especially as he had faced massive armies in the field, forces that likely made Caradoc of Dumnonia’s army look like green recruits.

His prayers finished, he took the sword his wife had given him from the altar, and made to hang it upon the wall, a piece of him for his family to gaze upon and be comforted.

“You mustn’t leave it,” Adara said behind him, cloaked and silent in the shadows by the temple door as she waited for him to finish.

“But it will give you and the children comfort to know that I will be back to take it,” he answered.

“It will give us more comfort to know that you have it in your hand,” Adara said, walking toward him. She reached up and touched his cheek, no tears upon her face this time, for she had cried too often at his leaving. “If you have it, I will be more certain of your safe return.” She picked up the sword and slid it into the scabbard at his back so that the golden, dragon-hilted blade jutted brightly behind his shoulders. “Promise me you’ll return,” she said, their arms about each other, her chin buried in the neckline of his thick black cloak.

They held each other firmly, ever-reluctant in their goodbyes.

“I’ll be fine, my love,” Lucius whispered. “I owe this to Einion and Briana.”

“I know. And we’ll be safe with Briana, Barta and the others here. Just look after yourself. Come back to me, my dragon.”

“I will.” Lucius looked at the doorway and the growing light outside. “I should go. They’re waiting, and we have a long road.”

Adara nodded. “You kissed the children?”

“Yes. Make sure they practice their riding and sword skills. The Dragon’s children should be able to fight.”

“The whole of his family can,” she said, putting her hand upon the black cuirass with the winged dragon upon his chest. “Go now. And come back.”

He kissed her, their eyes closed, and then a moment later, he was out the door, striding toward the southwest gate where Dagon held his horse for him.

Lucius Metellus Anguis took one last look at the fortress, even as clouds glided past the face of the rising sun. He adjusted his legs between the four saddle horns, felt the sword at his back, and turned to his companions.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” Einion said, tying back his long hair with a leather thong, and wrapping his cloak about himself as his white pony shifted nervously beneath him.

“I know. But I want to,” Lucius said. “I told you I would help you get back your kingdom, and I meant it.”

“As I meant it when I said you didn’t have to,” Einion replied.

“Are we going to sit here and argue?” Dagon said from atop his big black gelding, “or are we going to get this journey underway?”

Lucius smiled, knowing Dagon had not wanted to leave Briana’s bed. It helped that this was for her benefit as well, but Dagon was ever loyal to Lucius and knew the size of the debt that Lucius owed to Einion.

Lucius stared up at the high ramparts and saw the figure of his wife standing there, her cloak whipping about her as she watched them depart.

I’ll be back, my love… I’ll see you soon. With that last thought, that final look, he turned Lunaris to face down the road. The stallion jumped forward and the other two followed, their hooves clicking loudly as they headed for the smoke of Lindinis in the distance.

The journey went quickly the first day as they passed Lindinis and headed toward Isca. There had been a brief delay in the small, roadside town when some of the local ordo members and merchants had recognized Lucius from their dealings with him since he had arrived with his retinue to occupy the hillfort to the northeast of the town. Their pressure upon him to get the emperor to raise the town to the status of official ‘civitas’ was incessant to say the least.

He did not like some of the men of Lindinis, and he was eager to get away. However, he spent some time greeting them, so near was the place to the fortress that they could indeed make his life difficult.

Lucius was acutely aware that on this journey, he was not travelling under imperial protection or orders. No imperial pass sat tucked safely in the depths of his saddle bags, no imperial seal to guarantee his safe passage. To most, he was just another armed Roman out of uniform. The red cloak of command was back in their home, and he now wore the black cloak of an assassin for all intents and purposes. The dragon armour was well-hidden beneath his thick cloak as they rode, but there was no way he would have left without it.

Dagon likewise had left his heavy, full-body scale armour and opted for a brown leather cuirass and cloak. Einion, the man whose throne they were going to take back, wore his usual leather tunic and breeches, and a long, deep-green cloak. His father’s ancestral sword stood out from his hip, iron-grey and angry, awaiting the blood to come.

As they rode, Lucius and Dagon each glanced at the Briton, wondering what could be going through his head after so many years of vengeful thoughts.

They knew that Caradoc, Einion’s uncle, was a man of blood and savagery. They had heard the story of how he had slain Einion and Briana’s entire family, his own family. Even for men of war like Lucius and Dagon, the tale had been utterly gruesome.