War Duke of Britain by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Author:Tracy Cooper-Posey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ancient History Romance, Roman Britain
Publisher: Stories Rule Press
Published: 2019-04-18T16:00:00+00:00

ON THE SECOND NIGHT OF their race to the south, Rhiannon was woken from deep, exhausted sleep. Elen bent over her, her hand on Rhiannon’s shoulder. “Your father is here and wants to speak to you. I’m sorry to wake you, Rhiannon.”

“They caught up with us already? How late is it?”

“There’s no moon to tell,” Elen added in a whisper. “Very late, I think. He’s over by the stream.”

Rhiannon could hear the murmur of sounds she had not heard for two days. The creak of wagons. The crackle of cooking fires and the heavenly smell of stew warming in cooking pots.

She pulled the leather sheet around her, for it was cold. She had kept her cloak and fur on, too, instead of merely laying them over her. She hurried through the much larger camp to where the little stream jumped and tumbled over rocks. She could see her father’s silhouette before she got there. His staff was against his shoulder, as always.

Rhiannon hugged him.

“Tired?” he asked her.

“Are you not tired? You have not stopped for two days. We at least have slept.”

“As have I. There is always a corner to spare in a wagon somewhere for a blind man who trips over his own feet unless guided.” There was no bitterness in his voice.

Rhiannon’s mother had admitted that when she first met Steffen, he had been bitter about his blindness. Time had smoothed the resentment away…or perhaps that had been her mother’s doing.

“Your mother has hot food and bread for you. You should eat your fill, then go back to sleep. You will be on the road at first light and we will take another two days to catch you again.” He drew her across the field as he spoke, toward the white tent which marked Galleva’s camp. He would have noted the way to the stream when he first arrived and now he would walk it like a sighted man. His tactile memory was flawless.

Rhiannon took his arm. “Something hot sounds wonderful,” she admitted, as her belly rumbled.

Only the small cooking fire burned in front of the tent. Anwen sat beside it. She smiled at Rhiannon and handed her a bowl and spoon, as Rhiannon settled on the ground beside the fire.

Rhiannon ate swiftly, burning her tongue and not caring. The bread was stale, although it had been toasted over the flames. Rhiannon dipped it in the stew and chewed. “I don’t understand why, if you can catch up with us like this, the whole company doesn’t travel together,” she said around a mouthful of bread.

“Listen,” Steffen said, then remained silent.

“Listen to what?” Rhiannon asked.

“To nothing,” Anwen said. “Everyone sleeps like the dead, as they could not sleep for two days and two nights. If the war host traveled with us, you would be just as exhausted.”

“Tired fighters cannot fight well,” Steffen added. “By racing ahead, you can snatch sleep during the night. Tomorrow, you will race ahead again. And tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, you will find the Saxons, for you are making such great speed.

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