The Captive Celt (3 page)

“Ha!” limp-haired Livia jeered. “Call yourself a warrior! What warrior sheds tears because a girl shouts at him?”

If a tear ran down my face, it was not because of Livia. It was the memory of Britannia that was hurting my heart.

I brushed it away. The slave collar burned my neck and I longed to be free of it.

One day my life will change, I thought. I know it will.

FOUR

“No wonder the Romans defeated you Celts when you cry like girls,” Livia sneered.

“They cheat – the Romans cheat!” I raged. “They hide in the woods and kill our warriors on holy ground!”

The noisy crowds stopped to look at me, a slave, standing on the dusty street, shouting at a noble girl. They probably wanted to see me executed for my cheek – the Romans love to watch a good execution.

I bit my lip to stop my ranting and breathed deeply. I walked on towards the large wooden stadium, the Circus Maximus.

“The Romans took us by surprise,” I told her, more quietly. “They would never have beaten us in open battle. It was Midwinter's Day and we were going to the holy wood to make our sacrifice.”

“Ha!” Livia laughed bitterly. “Human sacrifices. Yes, I've heard your priests do that. We kill goats and lambs, and offer them to our gods. But
you
kill humans. That's why you have to be defeated. The Romans are saving the world from barbarians like you.”

“But you kill people for fun!” I spat. “You have your games, where men and women are torn apart by lions and bears, where they're made to fight to the death, just for sport. You're evil … all of you Romans. Evil!”

I felt better for saying that. But a crowd was gathering close by. A group of men had made a circle around me. They had no weapons, but their huge fists and boots could easily crush me.

“What do we do with slaves that rebel?” a fat one burbled.

“Beat them till they've learned their lesson,” his friend hissed.

There was no escape – the crowd was packed too tightly. I was ready to die.

But then a soldier pushed his way through the mob and raised his sword. “That's enough,” he snarled.

“We have Roman law to deal with this – you can't defeat the barbarians by acting like barbarians.”

The men nodded, and began to move away. Only Livia stood there, red faced and furious. “What will you do to him?” she screeched.

“What we do with all rebel slaves,” the man shrugged. “Crucify him. Fasten him to a cross by the side of the road into Rome. Leave him to die slowly. Show the world what happens to animals like him.”

“Good,” Livia snorted and walked away.

“Thanks, officer,” I muttered.

FIVE

I was taken to the camp of the emperor's guard in the centre of Rome. I'd been past the gates many times, and seen the troops marching and training. These were men who fought and beat the rest of the world.

As it was a holiday, today there was no training. Captains and generals with high plumes on their helmets rode on horses. They galloped through the gates, as excited as children playing in the streets.

I was sure I was on my way to a slow death, but I had to ask: “What's going on?”

The soldier grunted. “A special prisoner's just been brought to Rome. There will be a great parade to show him to the people. It will be more popular than the chariot races.”

We passed guards who unlocked gates and doors for us until we reached a block of cells. They stank like Roman toilet rooms in summer – the ones I had to clean out.

At last, a heavy door was opened and I was thrown into a dark room. I stumbled and crashed into someone who was already there.

He steadied me with his huge hands and said, “Careful, boy!” And he wasn't speaking Latin like the Romans. He wasn't even a Gaul.

My heart seemed to stop for a moment. “You're from Britannia!”

There was a tiny window in the top of the cell to let in air and a little light. As my eyes grew used to the dimness, I could see he was a tall man, dressed like a British warrior though they'd taken away his weapons. “I'm Deri,” I said.

“They're going to execute me for being a rebel slave.”

“Ah, that's the Roman way,” the man nodded. “I am a British chief … and they're going to execute me for daring to fight them. My name is Caratacus.”

SIX

This time I was sure my heart wouldn't start beating again. “Caratacus? The mighty chief? My father told me about your amazing deeds. You are the greatest hero Britannia has ever seen. You are a god … they could never capture you, my lord!”

The man chuckled softly. “Not in battle, no. But the Romans have other ways. And I was a fool.”

“No, you're a hero,” I argued. “The Celtic leader of leaders!”

“A warrior can be a hero and a fool, Deri. When Emperor Claudius invaded Britannia ten years ago, I led the tribes who wanted to fight. But they defeated us time and again. Of course, some tribes welcomed the Romans and fought for them. Maybe we should have made peace like the cowards. But we did not. They drove us west till I ended in the land of Wales.”