The Waters of Sul

Chapter 1
Enter the Centurion
Megan heard angry voices in the front room of her home and went to investigate. Her grandfather Owein was shouting furiously at a Roman centurion in full military uniform standing stiff and straight in front of him. The girl scarcely heard what the old man was saying, so astonished was she that a Roman had even been allowed into the house. She could only think that her grandfather had committed some offence and was being arrested.
She stormed into the room, eyes flashing, and demanded to know what was going on. Both men looked at her - the old man suddenly silent in mid-imprecation, the younger man with disconcerting interest.
Megan could see that the Roman was in his early middle years - his skin browned by the sun of a climate hotter than their own, his features lean and sharp.
"Leave us!" Her grandfather said tersely. "There is nothing to concern you here."
The girl looked from one to the other. There were veins standing out on her grandfather's neck. She had never seen him so angry - nor so determined to control his anger in front of her. The Roman was not angry. He was staring at her as though sizing her up. Not as a young man would look at a woman, but as a military man would look over a new recruit.
"Go girl!" snapped Owein.
"Not until I know what is going on, grandfather. Why are you here, sir?" She asked haughtily. "Why do you harass an old man?"
"I harass no one," the Roman began, but before he could continue the old man rushed at him and butted him with his head like a man using a battering ram on a door.
"Get out!" He screamed. "Get out of my house! Leave us alone you... you bastard... you traitor... you Roman excrement!"
Without thinking, Megan leapt forward and punched the centurion in the chest. He seemed amused and stepped back, choosing not to return the blow.
She picked up a pewter jug and flung it at him with all her strength, but it glanced harmlessly off his shoulder and fell clattering to the floor. He stooped and picked it up and set it back on the table. Then he slowly moved towards the door. There, before he left, he turned to look back at them, his expression enigmatic.
Megan and her grandfather were both shaking. She could see the old man's eyes were brimming with tears.
"What did he say to you? Why was he here?"
"Never speak to me of him, granddaughter. Never let him in the house!"
"He is a centurion, grandfather. If we defy him others will come. I know how you feel - but they have such power. We cannot hope to win alone. Shall I call Brendan and the others?"
Owein belonged to a group of disaffected Dobunni who often met to plan secret resistance to the Romans. As the years had gone by and the mighty Celtic warriors they had once been grew old and feeble, their determination to oust the hated conquerors never grew less, though their ability to affect change diminished. The population as a whole had grown comfortable and rich under the Roman occupation and fewer and fewer people were inclined to support them. Two years before, the Roman army had attacked a hill fort to the south of the town,[1] and killed or driven off the entire population after an unsuccessful insurrection. Brendan, the rebels' fiery young leader, had escaped and made his way to Aquae Sulis where he had soon associated himself with the disgruntled but impotent old veterans, led, up to that time, by Owein.
"You will say nothing to Brendan and the others," Owein snapped. "This is a personal matter. If you ever see that man again you are to treat him with silence and contempt."
"But grandfather..."
"Enough! That is enough, girl. Leave me alone."
"But..."
"Go!"
Roughly he pulled away from her and turned his back on her.
After hesitating for a moment, she went to the door and stared down the narrow street. There was no sign of the centurion.