October 26th, 513 CE

The moment the door clicked shut behind me I paused, the sack on my back sagging, my iron grip loosening from around my harp.

I wasn’t overreacting, was I?

After another moment of consideration, I glanced back towards the dock. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more sure, I told myself.

Casually I wandered towards the harbor, occasionally plucking my harp and humming as if I were simply lost in the act of creating a new poem. The Roman ship was one of three larger vessels in port, the dog’s head banner hanging from its side the only major thing differentiating it from the other two ships.

I found a large enough crate and sat, resting my pack beside me as I continued to hum and strum, dockhands, sailors, and slaves working around me as if I weren’t there. Most of the men blurred together in a mix of off white tunics and brown and yellow cloaks. It wasn’t long before the captain showed himself and I had to hold back a snort as his purple cloak caught the breeze and wrapped halfway around his head.

The sailor beside him was not quite as tactful.

The captain’s hand cracked across the sailor's face the instant after he’d corrected his cloak, drawing a few stray eyes from the surrounding crowd of working men. He shouted something to the man, the words too belligerent for me to make out from where I sat, but the anger was clear. The sailor’s expression fell, eyes locking with the planks beneath his feet like a dog being chastised. I shook my head slightly at the sorry sight.

Silence lingered in the air for a few moments before I strummed a few soft cords and the workers began to murmur to one another again, a slight hum of deep voices filling the docks as I played. The captain glanced in my direction, frowned, whispered something to his man, then approached, old wood planks groaning beneath his well worn boots as he moved almost silently across the pier.

He stopped a few feet away and I did my best to give him a welcoming smile. He smiled back, but it was a terrible thing full of yellow toothed disdain. It sent unwelcome shivers down my back, and I couldn’t stop from staring in disgust.

“Can I help you?” I asked as calmly as I could manage, strumming another gentle cord on my harp and idly plucking a soft melody across the strings. It was a simple tale I’d learned from a passing bard, the ‘Trials of Ogmios,’ he’d said it was called.

The captain’s eyes darted down to the instrument then locked back with mine. “You don’t much look like you're from around here, boy.”

I gave him a half hearted shrug. “My mother was Persian, and that’s about as much as I know, but I’ve lived here for basically my whole life. What’s it to you anyway?”

The captain's hand lifted to stoke the scraggly lines of unkempt beard plastered to his face.

“Simple curiosity, and perhaps a bit of intuition,” he said. “You say you’ve lived here long? Then perhaps you might be able to help me. I’m here looking for a young welsh boy not far from your own age. If you could point me in the right direction then there could be some coin in it for you. What do you say?” His hand fell to a small pouch looped into his belt, the sound of clinking coins coming from inside as he jostled it slightly, that unsettling slash of a smile still splashed across his pockmarked face.

I stopped strumming for a moment, folding my arms atop my harp then shook my head. “There are a lot of welsh boys here, I’m afraid. You’d have to be more specific”

His smile faltered slightly but still he seemed undeterred. “Well, if our information is right, he should be only a bit shorter than you, with hair the color of tree bark, marked with flecks of ash gray.”

My stomach dropped at the description. I knew already, but still, the confirmation was just as bad as, maybe even worse than the suspicion on its own. Gwyn was the only kid I knew of in Coronium with hair like that. Hell, he was the only kid I’d ever known with hair like that.

I hummed and hawed for a moment, as if deep in thought before giving him a reply. “Can’t say that I know of any kids like that,” I said, trying to laugh away my nervousness. “I thought only old people had gray hair like that.”

The captain snorted. “Well, not much hope for your future as a bard I see.”

I frowned at the slight, unsure where it had come from, but with one fluid motion the captain opened the money pouch at his side and flipped me a small copper coin. I caught it awkwardly with both hands, doing my best to keep from dropping my harp.

The captain turned as if to go, then paused. “Say, you look to be the right sort I suppose. If you want more of that copper there you can come aboard when we set off. My bed’s been rather cold as of late, and I’m certain the crew would love the added company.”

My pulse picked up, sweat building on my hands, my face draining of color as I stared at the man, feeling the damn copper coin burning in between my palms.

“I’ll think about it,” I said hoarsely, the rising rage inside me constricting my throat, to which the man gave me another vile yellow-green smile and turned away cackling to himself. When he was several steps away I let the coin fall from my fingers, hitting the dock boards and rolling, plummeting into the sea with a soft plop.

Without thinking, my hand drifted up to the thin leather cord round my neck. I gripped the coin there in a tight fist, angry, fearful memories of pain spilling through my head in a wash of shadows and ugly smiles, the coin ablaze between my fingers as I shuddered against a sea of fright and rage.

After a few moments of grinding my teeth and pushing the emotions back into the darker corners of my mind, my pulse steadied and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. Slowly I relaxed my hand and leaned back on the crate I was sitting on, taking slow deep breaths as the last of the anger and fear left me. Another few moments and I was striding away from the dock towards Osa’s small villa on the outskirts of town, harp under one arm, pack over the other.

I moved casually but swiftly through the streets, careful to avoid unfamiliar people, that gods’ damned captain especially, not that I saw so much as a hint of him the entire way. It made me uneasy, the way he’d disappeared into the streets I’d grown up on.

It took only fifteen minutes of walking through random streets and alleys before I was finally outside the villa and beginning to pound on the old door. I only got three knocks in before it was yanked open to reveal a scowling Osa.

“I thought I made it clear-” she began when she saw my face, but I cut her off.

“Is Gwyn here?” I asked frantically. “Lleu?”

The panic in my voice must have been obvious because she frowned at me, her scowl softening somewhat. “No,” she said curtly. “Why?”

“Do you know where they are?” I asked, ignoring her question.

“I asked you why you need to know, boy.” Her tone was dangerous, but I didn’t care, I was too frightened for my brother’s safety to care.

“He’s in danger, damn it. Where are they?” I practically growled the words at her, making Osa flinch away from me in surprise, her hand reflexively curling into a fist as she clutched it to her chest.

“The lighthouse,” she snapped, a very slight hint of fear in her voice which made my heart ache with a bit of guilt. “Gwyn took Lleu to the lighthouse. Now tell me-” Again I didn’t let her finish, dropping my pack and turning and dashing west towards the old roman lighthouse on the other side of the small peninsula.

I no longer cared who saw me running frantically through the town, panic overruling sense as I imagined finding my brother’s bloody corpse in at least a dozen different ways. My harp tucked under my arm, I skirted around the town, following dirt paths forgotten by most in Coronium.

“Gwyn!” I called out as I neared the lighthouse and spotted my brother and Lleu standing near the stone tower’s base.

Evidently the urgency in my voice was lost somewhere in the distance between us as he simply smiled and waved towards me.

“Already having second thoughts?” He asked, and it took everything I had not to smack the self satisfied grin off his face.

I was, perhaps, a bit too on edge.

“No,” I said between wheezing breaths. “Romans, in the town, looking for you.” I barely managed to get the words out before I was forced to sit down, setting my harp in the grass beside me as I tried to remember how to breathe.

Lleu frowned at me. “You’re certain they were Romans?”

I nodded, giving the man a frown. Did he think I was an idiot? ‘Of course I’m certain. The ship’s gods’ damn captain spoke with me.”

Lleu’s frown became a scowl and he cursed in an unfamiliar language. Years of living in a port made it easy to spot that sort of thing.

“I’m sorry my boy,” Lleu said, the honest sadness in his voice taking me aback slightly. “I fear there’s no time to pack. We must leave before they find us here.”

Suddenly I heard the sound of grass being crushed under heavy footfalls and my heart skipped a beat.

Had they followed me?

I lept to my feet and spun to find Osa stomping through the tall grass between us, my pack in her arms, a look of frustration about her face. My jaw nearly dropped open. Osa was barely fit enough to walk about the town on her own, how in the hell had she followed me all the way to the lighthouse?

“You forgot this,” she said as she drew near, not even a hint of exhaustion in her voice. She slammed the pack against my chest and I caught it on reflex alone.

“What… How… Why?” I tried, but failed to ask even one of the half dozen questions rolling through my mind. The woman just rolled her eyes at me in exasperation.

“You should come with us, my lady,” Lleu spoke up from behind me. “If these Romans learn of your involvement with my prince then you too would be in danger.”

I turned and glared at the man. “She isn’t going anywhere.”

“She can make her own gods’ damned decisions,” Osa said beside me, fixing me a glare of her own. “As things are now, I haven’t got a clue as to what’s going on here. What is this about?”

Before anyone else could answer I glanced around, freezing in place as my eye’s found a roman ship’s captain with a sickly yellow-toothed grin plastered to his pockmarked face. Several sailors flanked the man, weapons drawn. I felt the blood draining from my face as I met the captain's gaze, my hand going immediately to my belt knife and drawing it in a shaky motion.

“I think, perhaps, that you will all be coming with me now,” the captain said, his straight sword already out and held in a lazy grip. “At least, all but you, master Lleu.” the man’s sword swung up and he angled the tip towards Lleu and the several men behind him did likewise.