Merida's joyful freedom and happy reconciliation with her mother lasted less than a week, for the day before the next sabbath, a Cog flying the Roman standard and the personal flag of Britannia's imperial governor pulled into the castle harbor.
The governor was ushered to King Fergus's throne room as quickly as protocol allowed. There the King bore an unusually grim expression that was out of character for the normally jovial monarch, and his family and court reflected his mood. This unannounced visit was clearly odd, and boded ill for things to come.
"Marcus of Londinium, why have you come here without warning?" the King asked bluntly.
"Because the crown prince bade me to," the governor answered evasively. He was in his late thirties, with a young face for his years, but hair nearly gone slate gray.
"Why?" He asked in annoyance. "Sending the Governor himself, rather than an envoy? That's beyond strange. What could possibly be important enough to warrant your presence here?
"The Prince was much delayed in his travel from Rome, and the message sent ahead to me in advance never arrived." Marcus replied. "That being so, I was ordered to travel here as fast as possible, and with orders to negotiate and offer all kinds of concessions if what we feared had come to pass. Thankfully, it did not, and this should be a much simpler matter for all parties."
The King furrowed his brow, "If what came to pass," he asked in confusion.
"Why the betrothal of your daughter to one of your vassals, of course", Marcus answered as if it was obvious. "The Prince has heard of her great beauty and high spirit, and would have her hand in marriage." A half-swallowed shout of disgust could be heard from the young woman herself, but the governor kept on talking "He invites you and your family south to Londinium to celebrate an Imperial marriage and to renew the bounds of comity between our people by bending your knee to the Senate and People of Rome has Alban Kings have done in centuries past."
"And should I refuse," the King growled with a dark smile.
"Then the Prince will visit DunBroch… with a large number of his closest friends and have the wedding here." The governor said, pausing in just the right places. "Of course, they're young men and rowdy. Who knows what trouble they could cause." He shrugged as if it was just one of those minor happenstances that trouble people from time to time.
"I drove a Roman army from Alba once before, and I can do it again." The huge King barked. A murmur raced through the court, his words energizing the crowd, an enthusiastic yes escaping his daughters mouth as she was swept up in the emotion.
Marcus gave a cruel smirk. "We both know that you were only able to do that by playing the Viking invaders against my uncle's army and the crushing the remnants after their battle. Clever strategy, no doubt about it," he admitted with an admiring tilt of the head. "But it only worked because the Emperor was in Mesopotamia fending off a great Sassanid invasion, while his brother was busy pacifying Saxon savages beyond the Elbe. My uncle Claud gambled by taking 10,000 men north to see if he could exploit the opening made by the Northmen's invasion. And he paid with his life."
The governor turned to the crowd, with a smile and arms open, "Prince Michael on the other hand, he can invite 100,000 of his friends to travel with him if need be, for the Empire is at peace. So, as you can see, the circumstances are quite different."
"I see," murmured the King with a frown. "Well, ambassador, you've given us much to think on." He said abruptly. "Let me discuss the matter with my family and advisors, and we will get back to you on the 'morrow."
The ambassador smiled at that and left with a flourishing bow as worried muttering swept through the court.
Once the Roman had left the main hall, the King got up from the throne and strode regally to a private office in the back of the castle, followed by his serene looking wife and seething daughter.
Merida was appalled. "How could you tell his ambassador yes!?" She shouted at her father, cheeks stained red with outrage.
"I merely told him I would discuss the situation with my family," the King replied reasonably.
"That's a yes!" Merida shot back. "If you were going to truly say no, you would 'ave told 'em so. Coming back here to consult with your family, that's a load horse dung,' she harangued him. "You meant you wanted to browbeat me into saying yes in private rather than havin' a screamin' match in public."
"Is it so wrong to wish to avoid embarrassment before outsiders," her father demanded as his wife wrung her hands in distress. She clearly wanted to interject, but seemed resigned to having to let this scene play out.
"What is embarrassing is you offerin' me up like a side of beef to our blood enemies, followed by the whole country for desert!" the redheaded princess seethed.
It was that or risk our family's destruction and the devastation of our people," King Fergus said wearily, a pained look on face that seemed years older than it had the day before.
"You defeated the Romans before, you can do it again," she insisted pleadingly, wringing her hands, desperate to change his mind.
All that could run through her head was that 'this couldn't be happening!' In the aftermath of the bear fiasco, her parents had promised her that she could marry whoever she wished. That was not even half a fortnight ago. And now she was to marry the Imperator, a man half again her age that she had never met. Crown Prince of Rome, reigning in stead of his aged father, Emperor in all but name of half the known world.
Her father shook his head and sighed. "It's not the same situation," he explained. "I didn't really beat the Empire, I just defeated the governor of Britannia." He looked off into the distance, preferring to look at the past, rather than the disappointed eyes of his daughter, brimming with tears.
"Old Claud saw the chaos the Norse invaders plunged the land into and sallied forth from Londinium to take advantage of it. No doubt he wished to emulate his namesake who conquered the southern half of the island a thousand years ago." He guffawed with disdain, "Well it didn't go like he planned. I outmaneuvered him and the Northmen so badly they ended up smashing into each other in surprise. Fought a brutal pitched battle that left the victorious Romans so badly weakened I swept them out of the country with ease." He paused and breathed in deep, "But the war only ended there because of the situation elsewhere in the Empire. The Emperor was fighting off a massive invasion of the East by the Persians, and his brother was defending the province of Germania from Saxon raids across the Elbe. Put simply, they were busy."
The King looked down at his daughter, shrugged his shoulders and told the truth. "And now, they're not. Their far eastern border is secure, the Persians lick their wounds and look to the fabled lands of Ind for expansion. Prince Michael has brought the Saxons to heel himself, pushing the border from the Elbe to the Oder. Norse raiders have turned away from the Empire to the lands of Rus, looking for easier prey."
Sad eyes bored into Merida's as he tried to impress the futility of the situation upon her. "As much as we would wish otherwise, Merida, their Empire is stable and prosperous, in better condition than it has been in a good hundred and fifty years. And when Rome is strong, all the small states on her borders can hope for is that the Emperor will be satisfied with making them a client state rather than going for outright annexation. So, as much as it pains me. I will bend the knee and give Rome my daughter and hope that is enough for Alba and my line to survive. Saying no will just bring the Prince to DunBroch in person, on a stroll from Londinum with fifty thousand of his closest friends, all armed to the teeth. All the while the Roman Navy will reap and reave the eastern coast, sinking ships and seizing ports, and landing tens of thousands more men. I might win a few skirmishes, but in the end DunBroch will be razed to the ground and I'll be dead. Your brothers hostages for life if they're lucky, and you my dear girl, you'll likely end up Michele's bride anyway, so why burn the whole country down and get countless thousands killed when the end result is the same or worse.
"Do it for honor!" She said, voice ringing with anger. "Have you no pride in yourself or your country? Abandon the castle if you have to, retreat to the highlands and wage a Fabian war from there. This is our homeland, we can outlast them." She declared with a dramatic sweep of the arm.
"So, you'd have us wage war for five years? Or ten, or twenty or more?" Fergus cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. "It could work, but even if it does the dead will be numberless, the country in ruins and starving. And most likely it would not, the disparity in manpower is massive. Far larger countries than ours have tried this and failed. Just look at Gaul, Julius Caesar killed millions of Celts in his quest to force them into submission and now every person there speaks Latin and has for twenty generations."
"Your father's right, Merida," her mother said gently, breaking her uncharacteristic silence. "You don't understand the power of Rome. Gaul is vast country, prosperous and thickly settled. My father's estates were close to Paris, and you can't imagine how massive the city is. A hundred thousand people live there, and that's just a tenth the population of Rome itself. The Empire stretches the length and breadth of the world and rules over a hundred million souls. Gaul dwarfs Alba, and yet to the Empire it is but three provinces among dozens."
"But…" Merida sputtered. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to scream in denial, to rally them to arms and defiance. But she couldn't deny that what they'd said was true. Rome was a leviathan, one that had brought Alba to its knees in the past and could do so again. And if they misjudged the situation, she might never get up again and slip away into history like the Celtic Gaul of old.
"Please Merida," her mother asked softly. "This could save your country, save your family," she emphasized the last word.
Merida floundered, mouth half opened as she tried to come up with something, anything else. But all she could see in her mind's eyes was the castle in flames, her father run through with spears, and three small limp bodies in a bloody pile. "Yes," she breathed out, surprising even herself. "I'll marry him".