Warriors of Camlann Read Free

thighs crampedwith the effort of movement. She gritted her teeth against the pain. After an agony of shuffling, she reached the third body. It still breathed. Reasoning that anyone imprisoned with her was at least an enemy of her captors and might thus be her friend, she started to speak. She did not attempt to speak in English. English was not for her the language of blood and pain and fear. She spoke instead in the languages of the Combrogi, in the tongue of the Silures, the Carvetii, and the Ordovices, in the ancient warrior tongues. ‘Are you hurt? Are you sick?’
    A dry voice whispered from a parched throat, ‘Water. Give me water!’
    The sandpaper voice shocked Ursula. She found herself trembling with more than the awkward muscle-straining exertion. He spoke in Latin, the language of her old enemy, the Ravens.
    She recovered herself quickly and answered in the same language. Even without the power of her living, pulsing magic she could still remember words she had learned with its aid.
    â€˜I have no water. I’m a prisoner too. Do you know where we are? Do you know a way out?’
    The man was wracked with a spasm of something that, in other circumstances, might have been a laugh. Ursula failed to see the funny side of their predicament.
    Eventually, he calmed himself sufficiently to rasp,‘You can’t
not
know who has captured you. Where have you been living? The people who captured us are slavers – Aenglisc slavers.’ The man struggled for breath. ‘We’ll be dead or shipped a long way from here before the day’s out.’
    Dan would have known who the Aenglisc were, but she could no longer ask him. The realisation of that was like a stab wound – she almost buckled under it. She shied away from the pain of it.
    Were the Aenglisc the same as the English? Why were they fighting Romans?
    Ursula had fought Romans before. In Macsen’s land, the land she had just left, they had been known as Ravens and there they had been her enemy. She would not jump to any conclusions about this new situation. This Roman might yet turn out to be her enemy, but he may also be able to help her.
    â€˜We’d stand a better chance of escape if we could free my hands and feet. They’ve tied me up.’
    It was inconceivable to Ursula that she would try to escape without trying to release her fellow captive – even if he were a Roman.
    â€˜Do you have a buckle or anything sharp I could use to cut the rope?’
    Ursula had seen rope bonds cut with miraculous ease in many a film. It had to be possible. Could a hundred Hollywood action movies be wrong?
    â€˜You are wasting your time. These men are professionals. Once you’re caught that’s it.’
    Never overly blessed with patience, Ursula’s tone was shot with steel.
    â€˜Do you have anything sharp or not?’
    â€˜No. But …’ There was a pause. ‘Lady, are you of gentle birth?’
    Ursula was taken aback.
    â€˜What do you mean? What has my birth to do with anything?’
    â€˜Marcellus – the corpse beside me – he carried a knife strapped under his tunic. They may not have found it.’
    Ursula swallowed hard. Did she want to grapple with a corpse or did she want to be an Aenglisc slave? She rested a moment, gathering her strength and her courage.
    â€˜Tell me, Roman, what is your name?’
    While the man, Ambrosius Larcius, spoke, she listened hard and thought of Kai, the warrior who had been almost like a father to her in the world she’d just left. He might have
boasted
that he could rob a corpse with both hands tied behind his back. She smiled a grim, private smile. The Combrogi did things like that. He would have found her squeamishness amusing. She could hear his amused laughter in her mind. Kai had respected a man’s spirit as much as anyone, but he regarded an enemy’s corpse as no more than a carcass.Thinking of Kai brought tears to her eyes