Prologue.
Down through the corridors of time comes a story of love, betrayal and human sacrifice.
Where better judgment is ruled by a weaker heart. The very pinnacle of authority where power is administered is where we find it’s weakest link. Where love rules the human soul to its ultimate destruction, and salvation. Love is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
Chapter One.
The Druid warriors have returned from a skirmish with the Romans, who have just captured a Druid citizen for supposedly breaking one of their laws, any excuse to parade them through the streets of Rome as slaves. Queen Tlachtga has sent an expeditionary force to retrieve their citizen. It was a very daring and bold exploit. The warriors had walked right into where their captive was being held, retrieved him and fought their way out with two casualties. When the warriors returned, Tlachtga put the whole tribe on red alert, expecting a major showdown from the Romans, which never came. She knew the Druids on their own were no match for the Romans, and they needed the help of the Picts in Scotland and the Tuathas in Ireland to be of any consequence. They also needed peace to rearm and make one final onslaught against the enemy.
Life on the Isle Mona was going about its usual pace when a Roman galleon pulled up alongside the wharf. Everyone thought this was a precursor to an attack. Everything went on red alert. Down the gangplank walked a Roman general and four soldiers.
“We request an audience with your queen, please?" asked the official.
‘Yes, of course.” They were led to the temple. As they entered the inner sanctum of the court, Tlachtga and her counsellors sat waiting for their guests. As they confronted this legendary Queen of Britannia, the Romans bowed deeply.
“Dear Queen, I come in peace. I’ve been sent to arrange a meeting between you and the Roman Proconsul at your residence. The time and date are at your discretion.”
“My, my, the Romans are getting soft in their old age. And what, might I ask, is the purpose of this meeting, to ask more taxes?”
“No, dear Queen, I come bearing a sceptre of peace, not a sword of war.”
“Well then, since the Romans are being so generous, the Queen will be generous too. Would this day two weeks from now suit you?”
“That would be wonderful, dear Queen. My Lord will be delighted!”
“Then so be it. Would you like refreshments before you return home?”
“You're too generous, dear Queen.”
Tlachtga clapped her hands, “Lia, bring refreshments and drinks.”
Within minutes the table was awash with food and a plate of venison for the visitors. An atmosphere of extreme cordiality permeated the table and everyone left with a feeling of better times ahead. The queen was hell bent on taking advantage of this situation with Rome, as the last thing her people could afford was war. One of these days her nation would have its day in court, against their oppressors, but this was not the time.
