Off the coast of Ireland, 67 AD

Captain Branna clutched a rowan firebrand, which veiled her pirate boat in a cloud of dark mist. Her crew rowed toward the swan prow of a Roman ship. She slid her dagger from its sheath, bit down on the blade, and held it with her teeth. The iron tasted bitter. Branna reached into a soft leather pouch at her belt, pinched a smooth lead pellet, and loaded the leather sling.

Moonlit waves splashed against the pirate's coracle as it bumped the side of the merchant ship. Branna thrust the rowan torch into the Erin Sea. In a lingering cloud of misty smoke she twirled the leather sling over her head; the iron pellet embedded a Roman sailor's forehead. With seven Erin pirates she clamored onto the deck of the Roman ship.

Branna grabbed the dagger from her mouth and thrust the blade into a Roman sailor's belly. Her dark tunic and tight trews were stained purple with blood; the clogging stench hung in the salty sea air.

Branna felt someone's gaze and wheeled around to face a shadowy figure. She moved forward, then with a flick of her wrist pressed the dagger against the Roman's throat and held it there. The glow of the full moon flickered upon her catch. She gasped. He looked like Lugh, the sun god. His stone smooth face was embedded with eyes as deep blue as the sea. He gestured for her to release the blade so he could speak.

With a flick of her wrist she moved the sharp dagger down to his chest.

"Assassin, I ask your name before you send me to the Elysian Fields."

Branna clutched the blade tighter. "I am Branna of the Iceni, daughter of Boudicca the Great."

"Boudicca and her daughters are dead."

"I survived."

"Good. Now you have a cargo of wine and fish sauce that I was to trade in Londinium."

"Take it all, but leave me my ship and crew. They are worth nothing to you."

"I think not. On your way to Londinium are you? The last time I was there it was aflame."

"My mother lit it afire. Romans rebuilt the city, yet you shan't see it. Your voyage ends here." She turned her head. "Breccan, Casnar, Torna, tie up the prisoner."

"What say you?" balked Starn the Stout.

Laig the Dark Headed scowled. "We leave no survivors save for Roman slaves we set free."

Branna felt a strong unexplainable connection to this stranger as if she had known him all her life. She could not bring her sword arm up to slay him.

Jerking her head toward Casnar the Valiant, she chided, "I command we keep this one . . . as hostage."

Delbaeth the Thin retorted, "How can we collect a ransom without bringing attention to ourselves?"

Captain, you swore this would be our last raid."

Branna's mind buzzed like a beehive as she tried to banish her unwanted feelings for the Roman. She took a deep breath and stared hard at the crew.

"There will be no forswearing that vow. 'Tis our last raid, and we will have rare booty to show for it. I mean to keep the Roman not as hostage but as my slave."

She turned away ashamed of her weak excuse.

"We free slaves." Fingen crossed his arms in front of his chest."

Ye push my limits, she thought. "We free those enslaved to Rome but Romans can be enslaved by a Celt." She stared at their openmouthed faces. "I gave an order, get to it."

"Man the oars. Torn, follow with the coracle. Homeward bound," she yelled.

Sea Princess -2 (continue)