The moment the carriage rolled to a stop at the edge of the settlement, I could already hear the celebration. The sound of drums, laughter and the shrill notes of reed pipes carrying through the evening air.
As Gen stepped down first and offered me his hand, I found myself staring at the sight unfolding before me.
It was like watching something out of what I had read through textbooks, actually coming to life.
The village had transformed.
With bonfires burned throughout the gathering grounds, sending sparks into the night sky. Stalls lining the pathways between timber houses, merchants shouting over one another while children darted between crowds. Women carrying baskets overflowing with bread, fruit and roasted meats while men clustered around barrels of ale and mead, already red-faced from the drink.
Around us, Gen's guards immediately formed a loose circle, creating space as people moved aside for their lord.
I spotted the Romans almost immediately.
There weren't many, perhaps a dozen scattered throughout the settlement. But their red cloaks were unmistakable. Some lingering near the main roads, others stood watch beside important buildings, their helmets catching the firelight whenever they moved.
All of them were watching the crowd, always watching.
The sight made my pulse quicken despite myself.
Marcus could be anywhere.
I forced myself to look away before Gen noticed my interest.
The festival itself looked nothing like the neat historical recreations I had seen in films. It felt far older, wilder.
Near one bonfire, young men danced in circles while musicians pounded drums in rhythmic patterns that seemed to vibrate through the ground itself. Elsewhere, villagers tossed offerings into flames. From small carvings, bread, flowers and cups of ale given to the gods whose names had long vanished from modern memory.
The air smelled of smoke, roasted meat, wet earth and mead.
It felt alive, strangely sacred.
Beside me, Gen followed my gaze toward the crowds.
"This is one of the last nights before the harvest preparations begin," he explained quietly. "The gods must be thanked while there is still time."
The firelight danced across his features.
"For one evening," he continued, "people are allowed to forget their troubles."
I watched a group of villagers burst into laughter beside one of the bonfires, passing around a horn of mead while musicians pounded steadily on drums nearby.
Beyond them, a handful of Roman soldiers lingering at the edges of their gathering, speaking amongst themselves in low voices.
No matter how loudly the Britons celebrated, no matter how brightly the fires burned, Rome remained present like a shadow stretched across every gathering.
"Come," Gen said, guiding me gently through the crowd. "There are places prepared for us."
I followed the direction of his gesture and immediately slowed.
Ahead, overlooking the gathering, stood a raised wooden platform.
Not a throne, but close enough.
Two carved chairs sat beneath a canopy of woven branches and dyed cloth. Positioned above the crowd, they faced the largest fire in the center of the gathering grounds, where the festivities were at their most energetic.
Men and women danced in widening circles around the flames, stamping their feet to the music. Some wore garlands of greenery around their heads. Others tossed small offerings into the fire dedicated to the local gods.
The entire village seemed to gather around that blaze.
"Gen," I breathed. "I do not need that."
My stomach tightened.
"It would not be right."
He stopped walking.
The crowd flowed around us as he turned to face me.
"Why?"
"Because I have done nothing to earn it, I am not your bride."
A faint smile touched his lips as he stepped closer.
"Helena," he said softly, "that seat is not reserved for warriors or kings."
His hand settled lightly against my arm.
"It is where the lord of the settlement sits during communal feasts and ceremonies. If I am expected to preside over the gathering, then naturally my guest sits beside me."
Guest.
The word sounded far more innocent than the reality.
Still, as I parted my lips to object, his hand rose briefly to my cheek.
It was gentle, yet possessive enough that my pulse stumbled.
"Any woman would have wished to sit by my side at a feast like this," he murmured. "You are not like any other woman."
"Apologies," I said, lowering my gaze when I suddenly felt a strange sensation of being watched.
Not by Gen, but by someone in the shadows beyond the firelight, hidden amongst the crowd. The thought alone nearly made me search the faces around us.
But instead, I forced myself to remain still.
"I only worry what your people might think," I said, grasping at the first excuse that came to mind. "If someone were to claim me, I should not like them believing my virtue had been...compromised."
A low chuckle escaped him, his thumb brushed lightly against my jaw before falling away.
"You concern yourself too much with appearances."
"That is easy for a lord to say."
"It is easy for me to say because I know my people."
His gaze drifted briefly toward the platform waiting for us.
"They will see what I tell them to see."
I swallowed. "And what exactly is that?"
A slow smile appeared. "That you are under my protection."
There was something dangerous in the way he said it, that my stomach tighten. Especially when his eyes settled on mine once more.
"If someone does come forward tonight," he continued quietly, "then we shall discover who you truly are."
His expression softened.
"But if no one does..."
The words trailed away, leaving the rest unspoken.
I glanced once more toward the sea of faces illuminated by the bonfire. The feeling lingered stubbornly, as though unseen eyes were fixed upon me from somewhere within the crowd.
My heart began to race.
Because if Marcus stepped forward and claimed me, there would almost certainly be bloodshed.
And if he did not...then I would belong to Gen.
Before I could dwell on the thought any longer, he offered me his arm once more.
"Come."
The crowd parted almost immediately as he led me through the gathering. Villagers bowing their heads respectfully as we passed, while others raised their cups in greeting. The closer we came to the platform, the louder the music seemed to become.
Drums pounded. Pipes shrieked.
The great bonfire crackled and spat sparks into the darkening sky.
My stomach tightened with every step.
The moment we climbed the wooden steps, the nearest musicians gradually lowered their instruments. Conversations quieted, as heads turned.
Hundreds of eyes followed us, while I resisted the urge to retreat.
Gen guided me toward one of the carved chairs before stepping forward himself. He raised a hand, and the last remnants of conversation died away.
"My friends," he called, his voice carrying easily across the square.
A cheer rose immediately from the crowd.
He smiled faintly before continuing.
"Tonight we gather to honor the gods, our ancestors and the harvest to come."
More cheers followed, tankards lifting into the air.
Somebody even shouted his name.
Gen waited for the noise to settle before placing a hand lightly against my back.
"And tonight," he continued, "I would also present a guest beneath my protection."
Every eye in the square shifted toward me.
My pulse thundered.
"This is Lady Helena," he announced. "She was found injured upon my lands and remains under my protection until her past can be discovered."
Murmurs spread immediately through the crowd.
Gen's expression hardened slightly.
"If any among you know her family, her people or from where she came, you may come forward and speak with me."
I held my breath.
But there was silence.
A long one.
No one moved, no one even spoke.
Relief and disappointed twisted together painfully inside my chest.
Then something caught my eye, far beyond the outer circle of firelight.
At the very edge of the crowd, there was a lone figure standing amongst the shadows. Hood drawn low, motionless.
Watching us.
My gaze remained fixed on that spot at the very edge of the crowd. Even as Gen's hand rested lightly against my back, guiding me toward my seat, I couldn't seem to look away.
Because I knew those eyes.
Knew that built as intimately as my own, even hidden beneath the cloak and shadows.
Knew him as surely as I knew my own reflection.
Marcus.
My breath caught.
"You are tense," Gen murmured as we sat. His hand settled over mine where it rested in my lap. "What is wrong, Helena?"
I forced myself to tear myself away from the darkness and look down at our joined hands instead, forcing a grateful smile.
"Nothing," I said quietly. "I thought I saw something, but I was mistaken."