New story! New characters! Yes! I'm going to be trying something that I hope will be a bit different from my previous attempts. I've tried the "Oh, look! There's another prisoner down here! Isn't that convenient?!" route before, and it was not terribly original. Some people can bring themselves back from that, and still make a fantastic story. I feel that it is time for something new. This story will not be historically accurate. If you want historical accuracy, this is not the story for you.
In this story, I have decided to incorporate women in the Saxon army. I could have simply had women disguised as men, but that has already been done quite a bit with the knights. It would probably be more historically accurate, but it's been done. (During the civil war-the American one, anyway- there were accounts of women following their sweethearts into battle as men. I would assume that this was not an isolated incident.) So, I'm going to irk historians, and say that the Saxon's really needed the extra numbers. Not that they thought women to be spectacular fighters, but that they helped with that whole intimidation ploy. So, without further ado, I give you, "Andsaca" (enemy.)
Cwen could honestly say that Atyhtan was the central character in the ever-changing stage of her life. Before she met him, she had simply been floating through life, with no real purpose. He had given her that purpose. They had given each other that purpose.
She kissed him now. Tomorrow loomed, unpredictable. They would be fighting; one could never know the end result. Atyhtan had promised her that they would only remain with the army for one last campaign. By then, they would have saved up enough money for their very own cottage. They could finally start the family that they had been longing for. One more battle, and it would all be over.
She pulled back from him, smiling. "Just one more…"
His grin widened. "Well, if you insist…" he said, kissing her.
She swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "You knew what I meant! Just one more battle!"
He kissed her jaw, moving on to her neck. "I do. That won't stop me. If you don't finish your sentences, I will."
She laughed, pleasing him. He was always happy to hear her laugh.
They were not as alone as they might think. A lone figure watched them with sad eyes. He had always loved her, he always would. She barely acknowledged his presence. She was a divine goddess, light shining from within. He saw how she looked at Atyhtan, and knew she would never love him. Her heart, her mind, her body, had been completely taken by him. Anbidian lived up to his name. He was patient, but he knew patience was not enough. He could not bring himself to interfere with their lives. So, he merely watched what could have been his. His hands stroking her cheek, her hair, her body. He occupied the shadows more often than not, haunting them. They had never seen him there, never. They never would.
Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around, a bit frantic to have been discovered. Ah, it was only Devona. He sighed with relief. She would tell no one.
"You startled me!" he said, trying to smile.
Devona was not fooled. She knew why he was here. "It's getting late. You need to rest. Tomorrow will decide many things." She said, quietly.
He nodded to her, and moved past her to his tent.
Devona sighed, watching him. He still couldn't resist. It was painfully obvious to everyone but Cwen and Atyhtan that Anbidian was infatuated with Cwen. They had been friends too long for this to go unnoticed. She pitied him. He would never get what he wanted.
She looked beyond the flickering fires to the grand wall that stretched as far as the eye could see. Every so often, a figure would stare over the edge, at what must be an impressive sight. Thousands of Saxons, herself included, ready to attack the very next day. Oh, yes. They would be shaking in their boots. And rightfully so. They were a force to be reckoned with, and Rome was a weak kitten now. There should not be much resistance tomorrow. With a rather cynical smile, she turned; ready to head for her own tent. The figure standing in her path changed that.
Cynric. What an imbecile. Just because his daddy led the army, he felt that he owned it as well, and by extension, her. The twit needed to be shown his place, though it had to be done carefully, so as not to inspire the ire of his illustrious father. Privately, Cedric would admit that his son was a disappointment, but publicly it was an entirely different story. He couldn't bear the shame of having such a defective offspring, and wasn't too happy about anyone else publicly pointing out these flaws. It was a matter of pride, and pride was no small matter to the king of the Saxons.
Devona gave him a strained smile. "Excuse me, I need to get to bed. There's that small insignificant battle to be ready for, and all that…" she said sweetly.
Cynric eyed her in a manner that would have earned most men a good beating, but of course, this was Cynric. One couldn't go around beating up the king's son. "Are you sure you want to go to your tent? Mine's closer." He said, ever helpful.
Devona let out a rather false sounding sigh. Cynric's tent was at the other side of the field. He couldn't even remember where his tent was! "As appealing as that offer is, I'm afraid I'll have to turn it down. I really have to go." She said, pushing past him. She didn't get far. Cynric grabbed her arm, pulling her into his chest. This had happened on several occasions previously, and the end result had never been pretty.
"Cynric, let me go." Devona said, quite a bit more calmly than she felt.
Cynric chuckled. Devona was so clever! She always came up with such funny jests! "No."
Devona sighed. Cedric would not be pleased with her. Just as she was about to start laying violent hands on the heir to the Saxon throne, she noticed that they had an audience.
Esma strode forward. Her green eyes were glittering, which was never a good sign. She was one of Devona's greatest friends, but she couldn't always be counted on to control her anger. Cynric had been so distracted by her arrival, that Devona was able to slip from his grasp, avoiding the greater majority of required violence. She grabbed for Esma's hands, which were quickly turning into fists, and called over her shoulder,
"It was nice to see you, we really must be going now!" to Cynric.
Cynric was very confused. Women didn't say 'no' to him. No woman could claim that she didn't want to be in his bed! The idea was completely preposterous. Devona remained a mystery, and Cynric didn't like mysteries. They annoyed him. They made him feel stupid. He would have to do something about her; it was getting embarrassing.
Devona whipped Esma around as soon as Cynric was out of sight.
"Don't ever go against my direct orders ever again. You know what would happen!" she exclaimed, exasperated. She had instructed her troops never to attack Cynric because of his actions towards her. It could never end well.
"Yes I know what would have happened. Cynric would have gotten what he deserved, I would feel quite happy, and Cedric would give me an award. Admit it, the world would be a better place without the bastard." Seethed Esma.
Devona lowered her voice. "If you promise never to repeat that, I'll agree with you. You know that. But actually doing it would not be entirely beneficial."
"Ha! You see, it would be at least partially beneficial!" Esma concluded, sure that she had won.
Devona sighed. It really was no use trying to persuade Esma. The girl was unable to accept orders that she didn't understand. Even from her commander.
"I'm going to bed." She moaned, defeated.
Esma watched her friend walk away, shoulders slumped. She really needed to learn to loosen up a bit. It wasn't such a huge deal to beat up the heir to the throne! But, then again, perhaps she had a point. Oh, well. No use thinking about that now when there were so many more interesting things to ponder; Like that really attractive man in the tent next to her. Head filled with these positive thoughts; Esma marched back to her tent.
Devona decided that looking at her priorities was becoming increasingly important in her life. Esma's temper should be lower on the list than it was. The top priority now was to keep herself and those under her command alive tomorrow. She was uneasy; no one would give up their land so easily. They had something up their sleeve. Devona did not like surprises.
She went over the list of her troops in her mind.
There was Abrecan, with the unusually dark hair and grey eyes who had indicated an interest in her previously, though she had turned him down. Romance complicated things. He was best with his armor-piercing crossbow, though he wasn't exactly a push over when wielding a blade.
Aglaeca didn't speak much, though there wasn't much need for him to speak in the first place. He kept his life simple in a way that Devona admired. He could beat them all with all number of weapons. He looked after his friends, though may the Gods help you if you got on his bad side. It never ended happily for such an individual.
Atyhtan was the charming flirt, who had swept Cwen off her feet the moment they met. Devona knew that Atyhtan wasn't always necessarily faithful, but she said nothing. She had no wish to offset the careful balance of her group. Both Cwen and Atyhtan were fairly competent, though neither was astounding. They were a couple to watch in the heat of battle. Devona didn't want to lose any of her people.
Banan was Aglaeca's friend. He more than made up for his friend's lack of conversation. He would talk to anyone who would listen on any number of subjects. Most simply nodded every so often, but generally ignored him. Devona made an effort to listen, but she was rarely successful.
Colby, Drefan, and Stearc had become fast friends. They were very helpful in combat, though they did have a rather annoying flaw. They shared a love of gambling, ale, and serving wenches, who were generally lacking when they went on campaign. So, alas, the men turned to their female comrades for attention. Every so often, they got it, though it was a rare event. The Saxon army had rather strict rules about such things, and no one wished to be caught. Drefan lived up to his name (trouble) and gave Devona lots of it. He usually came to her when he was quite drunk, and as a result, got innumerable black eyes. Devona would tolerate a great deal from her men. To be a commander, you had to be flexible. Drefan crossed the line far too often for her tastes, however. She often thought that Cynric and Drefan had perhaps been twins, and Cedric could only handle one delinquent son. So far, she had gotten no evidence to support this, or contradict it.
Anbidian was a darling; though Devona saw how much pain he lived with on a daily basis. She often thought of sitting him down and having a heart to heart, but she reminded herself that it was really none of her business. It was just a phase- he would grow out of it. At least, that's what she told herself. Anything else would convince her to put her nose where it wasn't welcome.
Bernia wasn't the closest friend Devona had, but she came close. She attracted a great deal of male attention with her unusual angular features, though for the most part, she ignored them. She preferred the company of her bow. To all she didn't know, she was frosty and distant. Her friends, however, saw her spark. She didn't talk to people she didn't know, because they, of course, must be idiots. She saw the world in black and white. Everything was clear-cut, and simple. Devona envied her, even as she loved her.
Estra was one of the most honest and blunt individuals Devona had ever met. She didn't go for fancy weaponry; she simply hefted her sword, to hell with anything remotely intricate. Whenever Devona needed an honest answer, she knew where to go.
Esma. Ah, Esma. Devona insisted that the woman had given her at least five grey hairs since they met, though Esma innocently told her that she could only find four. Estra had come by and assured her that she only had three grey hairs that she could see, which didn't necessarily make Devona feel any better. What are friends for, right?
Aefre was one of the most distant of the lot. She looked after the group's horses, singing softly to them. Whenever anyone asked her to sing for anyone of the human race however, she turned them down flatly. She never seemed sad, though she never seemed happy either. She could swing a fine battle-axe, though, for which Devona was forever grateful. She was a necessity to their little group, who looked after their mounts, and their backs.
Devona loved them all (yes, even Colby, Drefan, and Stearc) and tried to look after them. It was not always easy. She had become a commander at a young age, and they had never questioned her abilities. Others had. They stood by her, though some of the worst experiences of their lives. She was worried, always worried, about each and every one of them. They had their faults, certainly, but they were her friends. They were her family. Anyone who came between her and them were setting themselves up for a quick and violent death.
Devona rolled over on her cot, staring at the tent flap. She would be leaving it by sunrise tomorrow. Their fates would be decided at the edge of a foreign blade. She wished the morning would hurry up and come. She hated all of this useless waiting.
Atyhtan wrapped his arm around Cwen, drawing her warm body to his. People thought he didn't treat her well, but Cwen knew his heart. He might flirt when he shouldn't, but the idea of a lasting relationship was new to him. He was slowly getting used to the idea that Cwen loved him. He ran a finger along her jaw, listening to her breathe. She was asleep, a smile on her face. She was so innocent. So trusting. He had to take care of her.
Here's a list of names and their meanings.
Abrecan (storm) male
Aglaeca (fighter) male
Atyhtan (entice) male
Banan (slayer) male
Colby (from the dark village) male
Drefan (trouble) male
Stearc (severe) male
Anbidian (patient) male
Devona (protector) female
Bernia (Battle maid) female
Estra (mythological name) female
Cwen (Queen) female
Esma (Kind defender) female
Aefre (forever) female
