/o-608144/n/power-stone)
130 AD. Britain is a conquered land - the edge of civilisation.
It is a long, long way from Rome to Hadrian's Wall - and Marcus isn't sure he wants to be in cold, gloomy Britain. He and his brother have come to be with their soldier father, here at the edge of empire.
Bran is a local boy who wants to be friends - but his sister is wary of the Romans. Is it really possible to be friends with your conqueror? As dangerous tensions build, the two families are about to find out...
The Brigantian Warrior On top of the tallest hill, a warrior sat beneath a tree, staring out at the huge sky and the landscape below. The forest, the fields, the dotted stone settlements with their snaking stone walls, the streams and rivers, sheep on hillsides – everything he saw filled him with love. He extended his arms out over the land, as if blessing it or taking in its magic through his fingers.
Stretching across the neck of his land, from sea to sea, lay the Wall. And just in front of the Wall lay the Roman road, east-west, teeming with military activity: mules pulling carts carrying stone, timber, grain; men marching; soldiers on horseback. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of movement. Along another Roman road that cut straight up from the south, two mule carts came, accompanied by soldiers on horseback.
He gave a quick shiver. The roll of his muscles rippled through spiralling blue tattoos on his back and chest. But his eyes were absolutely still, enraged. These intersecting stone roads, knotted with stone forts and stone cities, were like a net, tossed over his beautiful, ancient land. He shudders again, as if shaking something off.
The warrior leaned forward, half rising, to look north over the Wall. There, tribes still fought the legionaries. The Romans had found these lands less easy to subdue, those of the fierce Caledonians, Novantae, Selgovae. The net would not hold. Again he stared hard at the two mule carts with their mounted escort. Yes, he thought. Start with there, with them. It was time to seek out the old queen and talk. With the grace and sure-footedness of a deer, he ran down the hill and dissolved into thin air.
It is a long, long way from Rome to Hadrian's Wall - and Marcus isn't sure he wants to be in cold, gloomy Britain. He and his brother have come to be with their soldier father, here at the edge of empire.
Bran is a local boy who wants to be friends - but his sister is wary of the Romans. Is it really possible to be friends with your conqueror? As dangerous tensions build, the two families are about to find out...
The Brigantian Warrior On top of the tallest hill, a warrior sat beneath a tree, staring out at the huge sky and the landscape below. The forest, the fields, the dotted stone settlements with their snaking stone walls, the streams and rivers, sheep on hillsides – everything he saw filled him with love. He extended his arms out over the land, as if blessing it or taking in its magic through his fingers.
Stretching across the neck of his land, from sea to sea, lay the Wall. And just in front of the Wall lay the Roman road, east-west, teeming with military activity: mules pulling carts carrying stone, timber, grain; men marching; soldiers on horseback. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of movement. Along another Roman road that cut straight up from the south, two mule carts came, accompanied by soldiers on horseback.
He gave a quick shiver. The roll of his muscles rippled through spiralling blue tattoos on his back and chest. But his eyes were absolutely still, enraged. These intersecting stone roads, knotted with stone forts and stone cities, were like a net, tossed over his beautiful, ancient land. He shudders again, as if shaking something off.
The warrior leaned forward, half rising, to look north over the Wall. There, tribes still fought the legionaries. The Romans had found these lands less easy to subdue, those of the fierce Caledonians, Novantae, Selgovae. The net would not hold. Again he stared hard at the two mule carts with their mounted escort. Yes, he thought. Start with there, with them. It was time to seek out the old queen and talk. With the grace and sure-footedness of a deer, he ran down the hill and dissolved into thin air.
