THE YEAR DAWNED grey and frosted and bitterly cold.

It was the year of our Lord 78, by the Roman calendar 831: the ninth year of the reign of Roman Emperor Titus Flavius Vespansianus, known to his people as Vespasian; the year of the consulship of Novius and Commodus; the year that the unstoppable legions of the Roman Empire conquered the Ordovice and Silure tribes of Britannia; and the year that Gnaeus Julius Agricola replaced Sextus Julius Frontinus as the governor of Roman Britain. But all that meant little to me.

I am—I was—Enid, daughter of Ioan, the chieftain of our clan, lord of three valleys and the forest surrounding them, whose warriors numbered in the hundreds, and of many bondservants and freedmen. And on the turning of the year, as the eastern sky paled to silvery pearl and the white sun shone gloomily from the wintry heavens, the Roman Empire was only a dream, a far-off sigh of something beyond my understanding—occasionally spoken of by the clan elders, but nothing more. The valley and the mountains were my world—the river and the forest, the sky and the wind. Our people were our own and we cared little for the great kingdoms beyond our lands that posed no threat to us.

Yet could I have foreseen that when the snows melted away I would no longer be in the place I loved best, it is in my heart that perhaps I would have been different. I would have smiled more at the humourous pretensions of my younger sisters and lingered longer as I kissed the youngest. I would have laughed at the jests of my brothers, been more willing to serve alongside my mother, encouraged and appreciated my father—but all that matters little now.

The waters of Lethe offer only one passage, and woe to the soul that wishes to return through.

For we can never go back....

~~~

The first day of spring began as any other, that fateful year. I rose early to bring water from the stream that ran beyond the outskirts of the village. Coming back, as the sun began to peep its rosy face over a sleeping world, I passed Telyn on his way for a morning hunt.

Telyn was the hunting companion of my brothers, with hair the colour of a night sky without stars, shining grey eyes, and a winsome smile. I was not the only maiden to lose my heart to him, but I was the only one who received any attention from him, even if for most of my childhood he paid me only common courtesies.

He raised his hand in recognition. 'Enid, thou hast risen early this morn.' His words became small white clouds in the morning chill. He stopped walking when he reached my side, towering a good handbreadth above me.

I smiled, my cheeks burning at the pleasure of speaking to him alone. I thrust aside a loose strand of red hair that had fallen in front of my eyes. 'I could not sleep.'

Telyn shrugged, a dimpled smile sweetening his otherwise serious face. 'Fair enough. Was thy sleep troubled?'

'Nay, not at all. I slept well.'

'Good. There is no reason thou shouldst not.' He readjusted the strung bow on his shoulder. His other hand strayed out of habit to gently finger the fletching of the arrows in the quiver at his waist. The pale morning light shadowed his high cheekbones, giving him a more thoughtful appearance than usual.

I swallowed and glanced away shyly, not knowing what else to say. Telyn himself gazed at the rays of sunshine piercing through the trees and lighting on the thatched roofs of the living places. I looked as well, the sight no less dear to me because of its familiarity.

Our village lay spread out in a wooded valley with the usual scattering of round huts that housed a family each, the animal pens close by, and the fields an hour's walk away.

Peat smoke rose thicker from the bothies, and I knew I should return home. I longed to linger with Telyn in the early dawn, but it would be unseemly—especially as a chieftain's daughter—to be seen alone with a youth at this early hour, however innocent our intentions might be.

'I wish thee a good hunting, Telyn.' My gaze flickered shyly to meet his.

'I thank thee, Enid.' He grinned and strode off, firm and steady, and I strengthened my grip on the water jar in my hands.

I treasured that rare moment in my memory. It was mine, and no one could take it from me.

At odd moments throughout the rest of the morning, a smile crossed my face at the memory, but if my mother noticed, she said nothing. It was often in my mind to wonder who would be my betrothed when the time came for me to be wedded. My father would choose, most likely to strengthen ties with a neighbouring clan. Our tribe was small, scarcely significant in the whole accounting of the Iceni people, but our harvests were plentiful, our woods were full of game, our men waxed strong, and we were left alone by the Redcrests from the empire over the sea. My father often said it was better to remain forgotten than to be constantly under threat of attack; yet an alliance by marriage would be to our benefit.

I would have no say in the matter, and could only hope that it would at least be someone I knew. It was too much to ask of the gods, whether Celtic or Roman, for Telyn to be my future husband. Yet still I dreamt of it—as did, I imagine, every other maiden in the village.

'Enid!'

My mother's voice dragged me out of my daydreams and I glanced up from the weaving lying idle in my hands.

'Enid, I wish for thee to summon thy brothers home for the meal. Thy father will not be back from his journey until evening.'

With a nod, I stood and stepped out of our hut into the sunlight.

The warmth of spring was slight, but after the icy darkness of winter it was much welcomed. The sun shone through the bare branches of the trees and smoke rose idly from the holes in the thatched roofs of the earthen huts, drifting to the clear sky above. And though the air still retained its chill, the slight breeze whispering among the ash and oak at the village's edge hinted at warmer days to come.

I passed many acquaintances on my way to the practice ring where I supposed my brothers to be, but I did not stop to speak to any of them beyond a casual greeting.

I recognized two of my brothers and called into the sea of faces of those that charged and ran towards each other in mock combat. 'Ffionn! Ilar!' I had to repeat their names, which were lost among the tumult, but at last the pair turned and came to me, their clothes darkened with sweat.

Ffionn was the first to speak. 'Aye, Enid?' His face, usually a reddish hue, was scarlet from the exercise. He was the eldest and tallest of all my brothers and still claimed the place of strongest, though Ilar often beat him in matches.

'Mother sent me to fetch thee both for the midday meal,' I replied. A smile spread across my face, one of pride, for I knew they were some of the best warriors in our village.

Ilar, much shorter but the more solidly built of the two, wiped sweat from his brow. 'We will come.'

I nodded in farewell and made my way to the chieftain's hall in search of the harper, Caradoc. My youngest brother, Brynmor, would undoubtedly be with him.

A peaceful, drowsy stillness lay over the great chieftain's hall. I paused for several moments as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The hall was built much like our wattle-and-daub huts, but it was large enough to hold all the village at any given time. Little could be seen in the shadows that lay beyond reach of the sunlight spilling through the doorway. The door and the hole in the roof above lent scarcely any light, and there were no torches lit at this hour, but a small fire burned on the central raised hearth.

A ripple of notes echoed softly amid the murmur of voices in the hall, the harpist and his pupil oblivious to my presence. I walked towards them and sat down on the rushes-strewn floor. A harpist was always held in high honor so I waited respectfully for them to finish and kept my hands folded in my lap. I understood little of what they said, for the art of harping was a mystery to me.

At last, Caradoc finished and looked up at me, smiling. 'Thy brother knows almost as much as I do of this instrument.' He gestured to the wooden harp in his hands. 'Perhaps soon he will take my place as bard to the Chieftain.'

My brother smiled slightly, shaking his head. 'Nay, that I will never be.'

Caradoc laughed, a sweet, mellow sound. 'Thou art too modest. But come, methinks thy sister is come to fetch thee home to eat. Music is a beautiful thing, but 'tis not food.'

Brynmor rose to his feet, his nimble form barely perceptible in the firelit shadows, murmuring something under his breath; thanking his tutor, I suppose.

Once out in the sunlight, I asked Brynmor what he had said, but he showed no interest in conversation, his dark brows knit in concentration. Giving up, I held my peace. He retreated often into this strange silence, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself than to speak them aloud.

Ffionn and Ilar were not so. Over the midday meal, they recounted some happening in the ring to my sisters and me with such excitement that my mother hushed our noise. Ilar pinched his lips together and attacked his stew with a frown, but Ffionn winked at me. I choked back another laugh as he imitated the two brothers on either side of him, one thoughtful and brooding, the other irritated and silent.

A youth dashed through the open door and stopped before the table, panting from exertion. It was Telyn.

My heart skipped a beat as I instinctively dropped my eyes to my empty bowl. My ears burned both with delight at seeing him and embarrassment at being seated among the bairns of my family, even though I had seen thirteen summers. I wished him to think well of me and not consider me still a mere child.

But he did not seem to even notice me. 'Ffionn, Ilar, Brynmor, I would fain speak with thee.'

'Why? Didst stumble upon some faeries?' Ffionn jested.

I gazed at Telyn's face, marking how the firelight danced in his grey eyes, yearning for him to acknowledge me, but he did not.

''Tis no laughing matter,' Telyn replied, once he caught his breath. 'The Redcrests have built a new fort a few bow-shots from our valleys.'

'What? Since when?' Ilar snapped. He seemed ready to jump to his feet and slay all the Redcrests with his bare hands.

A half-forgotten memory surfaced in my mind—a legion marching north, blinding sunlight reflecting off gold armor, endless straight lines of warriors with glittering spears. A mysterious, forbidden fascination had embedded itself in my heart that day, and whenever the infrequent subject of Rome was brought up, I could not help but wonder about those strange people from over the sea.

What did it mean that the Redcrests had built a town so near our tribal grounds?

Telyn shrugged. 'I do not know. Perhaps during the winter months. I only saw the fort, buzzing with soldiers and townspeople, and all sorts coming and going from the gates. But they will find us soon, and then we will remain hidden no longer.'

'This news is best saved for the council, when Ioan returns,' my mother said softly, giving the youths a meaningful look and glancing at the young girls still spooning stew into their mouths.

I bit my cheek in frustration, longing to know what my father would say. I had no place in council meetings and would have to wait even longer than my brothers to learn the consequence of Telyn's tidings.