CHAPTER 1

I remember the last day with my parents as if it were yesterday.My father woke me well before dawn to go hunting. He put his handgently on my shoulder and said, "Korre, wake up. Do not go backto sleep."

I can still feel your loving, soft touch on my shoulder andremember how your hand lingered there.

I rolled out from under my rough blankets in our family hut,making sure not to awaken my sister. I felt proud that we wereCornovii, a tribe in the middle of Britannia, which had thus fareluded Roman slave hunters whose aim was to capture and sell us.Though we had remained free, we were now in more danger thanever before, as our neighboring tribe to the east, the Catuvellauni,had allied themselves with the Romans and begun capturing usand delivering us into the Roman slave market. As a result of thisbetrayal, we no longer felt free to share hunting grounds with theCatuvellauni.

My father had built up the fire in front of our hut and had cookedsome deer meat. We also ate hardened bread and a nondescript mushfrom a carved-out wooden bowl. I sat on a log next to the fire, andmy mother came to sit next to me to heat some broth. Both myparents were uncharacteristically eager to feed me.

I think Mother knows she may not see me again.

We sat in silence in the dark, and Mother gently rubbed myshoulders. The current of love flowing between us needed no words.At one point, my mother gently stroked my cheek.

My mother almost always wore deer skins. Her hair was longand braided, and her skin was brown from the sun. She was lean andhad big, capable hands.

How I love you, Mother.

I was just grown up enough to go on the hunt with the men,but Mother was nervous, as the deer had become scarce in our ownterritory, and we were being forced to venture closer to the forestsof the Catuvellauni.

It was still dark when my father and I left the camp of crude huts.

Mother, I remember how you watched me leave, holding onto mewith your eyes.

When we approached the rest of our hunting party in a clearingto the east, we saw that some of them were nervously fingering theirspears and knives, bows and arrows, and leather bags for water.Others were sharpening their weapons on smooth stones, and stillothers were eating. Dawn was about an hour away. No one spokemuch. We all knew the danger involved in this hunt.

The party started out along one of the well-worn paths throughthe woods. I walked directly behind my father, happy to be on mysecond hunting expedition and happy to have been trained by myfather, who had in turn been trained by his father in how to usethe large spear and the bow and arrow. Like my father, I had spenthours practicing throwing the spear, shooting arrows, and honingcombat skills with the spear. I had learned well and had a tough andhardened body.

And, Mother, I inherited your large, capable hands.

I watched my father ahead of me on the path—his strong, stoopedshoulders and the way he tipped his head slightly to one side whenhe walked. I watched his swaying gait and how his deerskin clotheshung loosely on his frame.

Is this the last hunt for me? Will I ever walk behind my fatherthis way again?

The Cornovii hunting party came to a clearing just as dawn wasbreaking. Seeing fresh deer tracks, the hunting leader motionedfor two men to form an arc to flush the deer toward the rest of us.Running soundlessly, they came up where they thought the deerwere hiding, and stopped. The rest of the men hid in the bushesand behind trees, and we all waited so long that I dozed off on myhaunches behind a tree. My father stayed alert next to me.

Suddenly there was a shout! Several deer came bounding out ofthe woods into the clearing, followed by our two yelling Cornoviihunters. One deer was coming right at my father and me but swervedjust before he reached us. My father threw his spear and I shot anarrow. Both spear and arrow wounded the deer, and it stumbled butkept on going. Father and I sprinted after it. We ran hard for a longtime, branches cutting at our faces. Just as we were reaching theend of our endurance, the deer faltered and fell. My father thrust hisspear into the deer's neck two or three times. The deer struggled,convulsed, and died.

It was only in the silence following our extreme exertion that werealized we were dangerously far from the rest of the hunting party.

We are in the Catuvellauni forest! And there are only the two ofus!

The deer was too large for us to drag or carry, so my father tookout his skinning knife and began cutting the deer into sections, whichwe would sling over our shoulders. This took time.

Too long, Father! Hurry!

When the carving started, the sun was already up in the sky. Afterawhile, we stood with difficulty, our knees stiff from crouching.Then we saw two Catuvellauni, their faces painted dark green forhunting and warfare, approaching us from across the field. Therewere two other Catuvellauni behind Father and me. My father andI grabbed our weapons, but we had no chance to escape. The lastthing I remembered was a large, hard object hitting my head.

CHAPTER 2

I awoke to find my hands bound. There were large ropes aroundmy middle and neck. My father was bound the same way, and ourbodies were bound together. Our captors were motioning for us toget up and move with the slave hunters down a footpath. A largeCatuvellauni tribesman, the head of the slave-hunting party, carriedthe lead rope. With dismay, we watched our precious deer meatbeing carried away.

We walked until the sun was high in the sky and were eventuallybrought into a large Catuvellauni camp, untied, and placed in acage-like dwelling held together with stakes and rope. Here we weregiven some water and were not treated badly, for the Catuvellauniwanted us to bring a good price as slaves.

My mother is cooking now, waiting expectantly for her mate andher son to return home. She and my sister are looking down thepath for us to appear. The other Cornovii hunters are returning andtelling her what they know.

I started to cry quietly.

I am only fifteen years old.

I huddled next to my father.

How I fear for my mother and sister.

Both my father and I tended to each other's superficial woundswith pieces of cloth. As I did so, I was comforted by his familiarsmell—a mixture of sweat, animal skins, and the home campfire.

Oh Father, I hope nothing worse than this befalls you, thoughwhat you have feared most has already happened.

My father whispered to me in an intense, nervous manner, asif he wanted to impart words of wisdom that would enable me tosurvive. "Korre, my son, hold fast to the blue sound.".

I had heard what I came to call the "blue sound" in my dreams.Yes, it was only a sound, but if it were given a color, it would beblue—bright, true, pure azure blue. This sound is more real to methan the world around me.

Father, you remember that I told you about this sound! Youremember that I told you I felt a warm glow in my heart for daysafter hearing the sound in a dream. You told me that this dream wasa wonderful thing and would give me strength. You told me to thinkof the sound as a friend and to hold onto it. You knew that this soundis a spark of the Divine and is a great blessing.

My father...