The Songs of Slaves by David Rodgers Read Free Book Online Page A

and there was no clear shot at her enemy. His attacker rapidly closed the distance as Connor reached for his second javelin.
    With one motion he threw his weapon. It crossed the few yards to his enemy. The man brought up his shield and the javelin stuck firmly.
    Connor held his weight low as he heard a burst of mocking laughter from the narrow-eyed man. His attacker swung his axe.
    Connor moved , taking hold of the javelin shaft lodged in the man’s shield. He twisted his body and dropped his weight to the ground. Titus had taught him the technique, used for nearly a thousand years by the Roman legions to unshield and throw their enemies, and Connor executed it perfectly. The man crashed onto his back as Connor flung the shield aside. Connor pounced before his enemy could move to right himself. He pinned the axe arm with his knee and pushed the blonde-haired man’s head to the earth.
    “For Titus!” he said as his hunting knife flashed across the man’s throat. The man’s struggling ceased. He coughed, sputtering blood as his sea-colored eyes looked up incredulously, accusingly. Then his face and body went slack.
    Connor took hold of the axe and began to walk down the bank. His eyes were locked on the small, narrow-eyed man.
    Grania winced as her captor pulled her tighter, but she made no sound. The man shouted something to him in a tongue Connor could not understand.
    “If you harm her, I will kill you,” Connor said, drawing closer.
    The man shouted back at him, but Connor did not slow. The raider was making a show of holding Grania in jeopardy, but Connor knew that the girl was an object of value to the man, and was now his bargaining piece. The raider would not cast her aside needlessly.
    “If you harm her, I will kill you,” Connor said, this time in Latin.
    The man seemed momentarily surprised.
    “If you come closer, I kill her!” the man said. “And you.”
    His Latin was broken and badly accented. It was certainly not his native tongue, but the man must have learned enough of it to trade. Well, they would trade now. Connor reached the corpse of his first victim and bent down to take his sword. He was careful to avoid the dead man’s eyes. Testing the weight of the sword, he cast the axe aside.
    “Who are you?” Connor said.
    “We are Jutes,” the man replied, in a loud voice.
    Connor knew the name from Titus’s stories. They were a tribe of Germani, whom had been raiding and invading the far coast of Roman Britannia for as long as anyone could remember.
    “Why are you here?” Connor demanded.
    “The wind,” the man said. “Woden’s wind has brought us to this rich source for the markets. Rich men he makes us.”
    Again the man’s voice was loud, almost a shout of defiance. But Connor suddenly realized it was not merely arrogance. They were not far from the ships. The Jute’s boasts were a call for help to the others. The conversation had gone on too long.
    Connor stormed forward, raising his sword.
    “Release the girl and be gone!” he commanded. The man glared at him, seething in malevolence. But he had just seen his two comrades cut down. He raised his sword.
    Then he flung Grania towards Connor. Instantly the girl buried her face in the grass and began to sob. The narrow-eyed man turned and fled.
    Connor darted back to his first victim and wrenched his javelin from the man’s chest. The blade and shaft were still straight. He rested his eyes on the fleeing thief. The man had murdered his kinsfolk. Maybe he was even the one who had so grievously wounded Mannus. He could make the shot. He could slay him as he fled.
    “ Thou shalt not kill ,” he thought. No. God had not given him the victory to tarnish it with hate and dishonor. “ Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord .”
    He lowered his javelin and ran to Grania. Gently he lifted her face in his hands. As he looked into her eyes he felt as if his heart would break.
    “You are safe,” he said.
    “You came for