IV

Alroy's tent was small like he had said and Frieda's shoulder often knocked against Diomed's in the cramped space but the mud floor was covered by animal fur and it was warmer than the plummeting temperatures outside so she did not argue. Instead she sat cross legged on the ground and waited as Alroy unwrapped some precooked meat and shared it out amongst them.

Diomed thanked Alroy as he shovelled the food into his mouth but Frieda was a bit more suspicious and waited for Alroy to eat before she did. Alroy saw her wariness and seemed to laugh at her trust issues as he reached out and took a small piece of meat from her hand before placing it in his mouth and swallowing it. When nothing happened he held his arms out to side, "Satisfied?"
Frieda narrowed her eyes at him but she started to eat and they sat in a warm comfortable silence for a few moments as they quenched their hunger. A metal flask lay in the centre of their small circle which was half filled with water. She waited for Alroy to drink from that too before she did.

"So," Frieda licked the meat juices from her fingers, her stomach grumbling for more food but she had gotten quite good at ignoring her stomach recently, "You are rebelling against the Romans." She cut straight to the point.

Alroy's jaw paused mid-chew for a second as he looked at her before he resumed eating his food, buying some time before he had to answer. After he swallowed he said, "The chief will explain everything to you in the morning. For now we should catch some sleep."

That wasn't the answer Frieda wanted but she knew if she pressed the matter Alroy would grow suspicious and her eyes turned to look at Diomed. If they found out he was a Roman, let alone that he used to be a Roman soldier, they would kill him as well as her probably for being with him so she agreed to speak in the morning. It at least gave her time to think of answers to any awkward questions which might be raised the following day. She just prayed that Diomed could keep his mouth shut.
Untying her sword sheath from around her waist she laid it down beside her whilst she clutched a dagger in her hand beneath her pillow. Diomed was led with his head by her feet and she knew he had his dagger pressed up against the underside of his arm, concealed by the way he slept. Alroy was asleep on the opposite side of the tent with his back to them which she assumed was to show them some small measure of trust but Frieda wasn't feeling it at that moment, she knew that everyone had their own motives and Alroy was no different. There was a reason he had brought them here. She just didn't know what it was and that worried her as the fire in the cradle began to dwindle, leaving them in complete darkness.

Frieda had started to drift off into a light sleep when she heard footsteps squelching in the soft mud outside Alroy's tent and her eyes flew open. Her fingers curled reassuringly around her dagger as she looked to see Diomed and Alroy were still asleep so she listened to the footsteps carry on around the tent before they passed them completely. Her heart, which had sped up in her chest, slowed down again as Frieda let out a small breath and reminded herself that they were in a camp now so of course she was going to hear footsteps; it was probably just a patrol.
As she started to ease herself back to sleep Frieda heard another set of footprints on the other side of the tent but this time they were two of them and their owners were speaking amongst themselves. Half of her just wanted to go to sleep but the other half was intrigued as to what two people could be speaking of in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep and especially since a patrol just went past moments earlier. Her curious side won out and she quietly got onto her hands and knees and crept towards the tent's opening. Lying on her stomach she pulled the fabric back a little at the bottom of the tent and pressed her face to the gap and listened. She couldn't see their faces but she saw the outline of two sets of boots, one made from leather and one fur, stood a few feet to her left.

"Our scouts have come back and reported that the Romans are moving," One of the voices, a man, said which piqued Frieda's interest. Any details on the Romans she was glad to know, "Alroy has also returned," The same voice informed the other man as they started to walk again, their footsteps heading in her direction, "He has two people with him apparently." The man's voice was filled with surprise as he said it, as if Alroy was not known for his people skills.

Frieda held her breath as she saw the two sets of boots pass by the opening of Alroy's tent. They were almost out of sight in the darkness, their footsteps growing quieter, when the other man spoke clearly within earshot for the first time. His voice sent a shiver across Frieda's entire body as it felt like she had been dropped in an ice cold lake.

"Alroy has brought home strays? How intriguing," The chilling voice replied with some unknown humour as they carried on walking but Frieda felt paralysed as a torrent of images and memories flashed before her eyes because that voice sounded like- No, Frieda she shook her head, it couldn't be.

Every rational part of her body was telling her that the voice she was hearing could not belong to the person she thought it did but the other part of her also needed to make sure. She did not do well with wondering. Still dressed with her boots on, Frieda slipped out of the tent and hurried to catch up with the two men before they slipped away in the darkness. Disorientated amongst the dozens of tents in the darkness she was not sure where she was going as she listened for any sign of the men's voices. She thought she had lost them completely when she heard them a few tents over speaking amongst themselves and there was his voice again, taunting her. Keeping low, her heart racing, she wound herself around the tents until she found herself less than ten feet from the two men but the pitch black shadows helped conceal her presence. Keeping her back to one of the tents she slowly placed one foot in front of the other, wary of the slippery mud and making any noise she forced herself to go slow rather than do what she wanted which was to run straight up to them and put the man's face under a torch so she could see if her mind was truly playing tricks on her or if- She could not even think of the other option because it was too surreal so she kept to the shadows.

But whilst the darkness hid her presence it had the same effect for the two men and when she almost halved the distance between them she realised that there was only one outline in the darkness, not two. As she realised this the man turned his head and looked directly at her as the tent wall suddenly opened up behind her and she was yanked inside, one hand creeping around her mouth from behind to keep her from screaming whilst another curled around her waist to immobilise her. As she was grabbed her hand instantly reached for her sword when she remembered that she had left it in Alroy's tent in her rush to catch the two men.

"Why are you following us?" The man behind her demanded to know as he tightened his arms around her body and she realised that the voice she wanted to hear did not belong to him. The tent was illuminated by half a dozen low-burning torches but whilst she could not see the face of the man who had grabbed her, the tent flap was pulled back and the other man stepped in.

Not trying to get free Frieda's gaze was glued to the man as he walked in and let the tent close behind him. He remained in the shadows for a few moments, hiding his face, and all she could hear was their breathing in the quiet atmosphere, which only heightened her unease and distress. She could feel her chest pressing against the man's arm that was wrapped tightly around torso as her breathing quickened. After a few sombre moments the man reached up to remove his hood whilst simultaneously stepping out of the shadows and into the candlelight. And the moment her eyes laid upon his brown ones, the same gold flecks at the centre, she knew her fears had been real.

He was older now, much older, and his hair had grown substantially until the sides of it had been braided back in traditional plaits with the rest running past his shoulders. The left side of his face had been decorated in black-blue war paint that curled around his eye and bled into the hairline at his temple but in his eyes she still saw the young boy from her village and she knew he saw her as well. His eyes widened in shock and his jaw grew slack for a moment as he realised who was stood before him.

"Fr- Frieda?" He gasped and for the first time she struggled against the restraints around her because hearing him say her name brought back a torrent of emotions she thought she had left behind her. "H- How?" He whispered but she unsure if he was speaking to her or to himself but his words unsettled her for a moment. Had he thought she died like she thought he had? Did he presume she would not survive and then left her anyway? The rage in her heart somehow seemed to increase which she did not think possible.

She could feel the unwanted tears stinging the back of her eyes as she just continued to stare at him in disbelief. She could not grasp that he was stood in front of her when he raised a hand and motioned for his friend to release her. Frieda felt the man's arms unwind themselves from around her body, his fingers so hard on her lips that they tingled, and stepped back but she just continued to stare at the man in front of her, her brow furrowing in confusion and anger.
After a moment he took a small step towards her, his lips parting as if he was about to speak but she knew she did not want to hear anything he had to say, only that she wanted to inflict great pain upon him so she raised her hand and punched him in the mouth. Hard.

He stumbled backwards in shock whilst his friend barrelled into her back and tried to restrain her once more but she easily grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it around until he was knelt on the ground in front of her, begging her not to break his wrist. Frieda was so angry that she wanted to break it just to hurt him but she refrained for the moment and instead just held his hand delicately in hers, subduing him there. Looking across at Eoghan she let out a small huff of pleasure when she saw him run his tongue along the inside of his lip which was now bleeding, but that was nothing compared to the pain she wanted to cause him. That was just a drop in the ocean.

"I see you have not lost your wicked right hook," Eoghan spat out a mouthful blood.

"Come a little closer and I'll show it to you again," Frieda growled as the memory of watching him escape from their master Domitius whilst she was caught by the guards flashed behind her eyes. She tightened her grip on the man's wrist making him cry out in pain and imagined that it was Eoghan.

"Or your sharp mouth," Eoghan eyes narrowed and Frieda's brow creased further in outraged that he should be the one to feel resentment when he was the one that abandoned her.

"Do- Do you two know each other?" The man looked up at them from the ground with his arm twisted behind his back.

"Be quiet," Frieda yanked on his hand before she looked back up at Eoghan. It was nothing more than a split second but when she looked back up Eoghan was no longer across the tent but instead he was less than a few feet in front of her. Surprised that she had not heard him move she reacted by exerting some pressure on the man's wrist, pulling him to his feet and throwing him against Eoghan whilst she stepped easily out of the way.

Eoghan shoved the man to one side where he crashed into a table before rolling onto the floor in a heap. They heard him groan but neither cared as Eoghan turned and faced her, his eyes hooded and dark. Frieda used to be able to tell what he was thinking but that was the old Eoghan who had promised to protect her and said that they would stick together. But now she couldn't bring herself to look in his eyes for more than a few moments. They circled each other for a few moments as they waited to see who would make the first move. There was confidence in his eyes and his stance was near perfect which told Frieda that he knew how to fight, but so did she.

"Frieda-" He spoke her name with a familiarity he no longer had a right to. He had lost the right to call her anything the moment he left her to the Romans and hearing her name spoken in such a way from his lips catapulted Frieda over the edge of her self-restraint. Something she instantly regretted as she launched herself at him, her fist swinging towards his jaw, when he raised one arm to deflect her shot whilst bringing the other one up to punch her back. Frieda lifted her elbow and blocked his attack before she brought her leg up and planted her boot against his stomach and shoved him backwards.

Eoghan stumbled back a few steps but he did not fall over. Frieda walked towards him and as she grew close she lifted her right leg to kick him in the face when he caught her foot as she suspected he might. A grin spread across his lips as he thought he had her stifled but Frieda quickly employed a move she had learnt from Krista. With her right foot caught in his grasp she launched herself off of the ground with her left and wrapped it around his neck until she was sat on his shoulders, her thighs clamped tightly around his neck, suffocating him.

Frieda held Eoghan's head as he wobbled beneath her as his hand left her foot and he tried to pry her thighs from around his throat. She could hear him gargling beneath her as she restricted the air flow from the rest of his body when he crashed down to his knees before falling on his back; all the while she remained where she was, her legs tightening at every opportunity. The image of a young Eoghan disappearing into the kitchen was playing on repeat behind her eyes quickly followed by the vicious beating she had endured at the hands of Domitius for trying to escape. He had left her there to die.

Eoghan's struggles were becoming less and less frequent until his hand was merely tapping against her leg, almost pleading with her to release him, when she heard something behind her head and she looked up to see the other man stood above her with what looked like a table leg in his hands. Before she could do anything the man brought the plank of wood down onto her head where there was a sharp explosion of pain and she felt her entire body go slack, releasing Eoghan. There was a second explosion of pain and her vision started to blur as she saw Eoghan's dark shape stood over her. She tried to speak, to say something, but before she could utter a word everything went dark.

When she woke up she was on her back in the mud and hoped that everything she remembered happening had been a dream but when she raised her hand to her head she winced when she felt the tender spot where the man had hit her and she knew that it had been real. Looking around her she found herself in a cage made from thick wood and her breathing started to increase as she recalled what happened the last time she had been in a cage. Jumping to her feet she launched herself at the gate, her fingers pulling at the rope that had been expertly wound around the cage door and the frame, locking her inside. Looking out through the square gaps she could see that she was on the outskirts of the main encampment with a road seeming to pass in front of her which she guessed would soon be filled with heavy foot traffic from the width of the muddied trail. Smart, Frieda thought, placing prisoners in front of dozens of eyes at any one time. It meant they were less likely to be able to escape unseen but at the moment there was no one about as the sun began to rise over the horizon in the distance. Craning her neck she tried to see if there was anyone guarding them but she could not see anybody when her ears picked up the sound of the native Roman language being spoken beside her.

Hearing the words made her stomach churn as it brought back memories of them being spoke into her ear as sweaty bodies pressed up behind her and- Spinning around to see who it was she looked across at a second cage a few feet away from hers and saw Diomed knelt in the mud. She should have guessed that after she was knocked out Eoghan would have captured the companion she was brought in with but Diomed should know better than to be speaking his native tongue here. But Diomed's back was to her so he wasn't speaking to her but to someone else. Walking the length of the cage she got to the corner and looked past Diomed to next cage along where she saw a Roman soldier resided.

Her eyes widened as she looked back and forth between Diomed and the soldier who appeared to be having an in-depth conversation in friendly tones of voices. Turning away she walked back to the gate and resumed her attempt to flee before the rest of the camp woke up and she would be trapped there. Reaching down she dug around in her boot, praying her captors were dumb enough not to have searched her, and let out a small expletive of joy when she found the dagger she kept there. Flipping the blade open from its casing she set to work on the rope when she realised all she could hear was the dagger cutting through the rope and Diomed and the soldier had stopped talking; pausing midway through the rope she turned her head and saw them staring at her.

"Frieda!" Diomed got to his feet and approached the other side of his cage, "Are you okay, what happened?"

"I see you've made a friend," She snapped in anger as she turned back to the rope, ignoring his question.

Diomed looked back over his shoulder at the young soldier and realised what it must look like to Frieda, "I was just asking him about-"

"-I don't care anymore Diomed," Frieda interrupted him as her knife cut through the last string and she hurriedly pulled it from the door, "If you want to blow your cover and get killed, go for it."

"Frieda-"

Yanking the door open she stepped outside before she pulled it back shut behind her, leaving the rope hanging over the side as she turned and started to leave.

"Frieda!?" Diomed hissed when she ignored him and started to walk away, "Aren't you going to let me out?"

Turning back around she looked between Diomed and the Roman soldier and she felt stupid for letting her guard down and believing that he could change. He was a Roman through and through; Frieda told herself, why would she expect anything different?

"You Romans stick together," Frieda looked Diomed straight in the eyes, "Figure it out between yourselves."

For a second something close to shame swept through her body when she saw the way Diomed looked at her but it was gone in an instant when the Roman spoke Diomed's name, asking him what Frieda had said. Angry and feeling betrayed she turned and ran off into the camp, leaving Diomed behind her.