Page 79 of Ensnaring the Dove

However, Severus Juventus wasn’t focused on the surrounding devastation. His blood-spattered face was set in a grimace, as if the admission pained him.

“My name’s Aedan,” Aedan reminded him. “Onnum has been good to me. I wasn’t going to hide with the women and children while the fort was under attack, was I?”

He was aware then that they had an audience.

Now that the wall had been cleared, and the bodies of their attackers lay strewn over the walkway, the surviving soldiers turned to watch their commander face the Briton who’d fought at their side.

Juventus stopped before him, a nerve ticking in his rain-slicked cheek. “You don’t fight like a common man,” he noted, his gaze roaming over Aedan’s face.

“I’m a warrior,” Aedan admitted. “The first-born son of Colmus, son of Bel.”

The commander inclined his head. “He rules Moedin fort, does he not?”

“He did … although my brother sits in the chieftain’s chair now.”

Juventus’s grey eyes sharpened. “And why not you?”

Aedan swallowed a sigh. Of course, conversations about his origin always led to this point. “I led my men into battle against General Aquila a few years ago,” he said gruffly. “We were defeated, and Aquila took me as his slave. When he freed Fenella, he did the same for me.”

The commander raised an eyebrow. “Aquila’s slave, eh? After such a history … I’m surprised you’d fight at my side … or come to my aid.”

Aedan’s mouth quirked. “I surprised myself.”

They stared at each other a moment longer before Juventus cleared his throat. “It seems I may have misjudged you. It’s time I humbled myself.” He then thrust out a hand. “Thank you, Aedan, son of Colmus.”

Clasping arms with the commander, under the watching and no doubt incredulous gazes of his men, Aedan’s smile widened. “You’re welcome.”

Aedan descended the walls as the rain continued to patter down. He noted the ruddy glow from the blaze in town had dimmed. The deluge had extinguished the fire, although thick black smoke now drifted over the ramparts.

Severus Juventus had already departed, his crimson cloak, tattered and dark with blood, billowing behind him. He’d left his men to clean up the mess.

Aedan would do the same.

An eerie hush settled over the palisade, broken only by the patter of the rain, and the faint cries of dying Brigante to the south.

Reaching the vicus below, Aedan walked through smoky streets. He was relieved to see the outer streets weren’t charred.

The heavy rain had arrived just in time.

He passed by the workshop, hoping to see Keir there, but the carpenter was nowhere to be found, and so Aedan made his way to the market square.

Through the haze of smoke, he could see the faint glow of dawn to the east. Soon the sun would rise, and the full effect of the devastation would become clear.

The buildings that had once encircled the cobbled space were nothing more than smoking, blackened skeletons, as were the houses two streets behind it. He expected to see the folk of Onnum clustered around the ruins of their homes, yet, instead, they were all gathered before the southern gate to the compound.

The gate was open, revealing two figures swinging by their necks from the watch tower.

Keir was among the jostling sea of men and women who craned their necks to get a better look.

“What’s happened here?” Aedan asked, drawing to a halt beside the carpenter.

Keir cast him a quick look, relief suffusing his face. “The Mother be praised, you’re alive.” He glanced back to the two men hanging a few yards distant. “We found the fire starters … they were setting alight to a granary when soldiers caught them.”

Aedan peered at the figures, and when his gaze alighted on the bloated purple face of one of them, his breathing caught.

Lucon.

He recognized the other warrior as well. He couldn’t recall his name, yet he too had been part of Maccus’s band.