Bee Among the Clover (190 page)

A
RON sat cross-legged against the tree, turning the letter Romanlegged against the tree, turning the letter Roman had
given him over in his hands. He’d come ashore just before dusk the night before, selecting a rocky embankment to cover his tracks, and released the raft back into the stream. He’d spent the entire day trying to figure out
what to do as a way of staving off the pain his separation from Roman had
caused him. It’d been much worse than he could’ve imagined, and more than once, he almost turned around. The only thing that stopped him was the sure knowledge that Roman would suffer if he did.
The only thing he could do was continue on, and that was where his
indecision lay. He hadn’t contemplated where he’d go upon leaving Wulfgar’s, just that he had to go. He had some vague ideas of attaching
himself to another thane’s household and earning his keep until he was
satisfied Wulfgar was no longer searching for him. Maybe once it was seen that he’d already had some training in swordplay, he’d be allowed to continue it until the day when he could become a warrior.
But that had changed when Roman had placed this letter in Aron’s
hands. Londinium. It seemed so far away, another entire world. But in Londinium, no one would be able to touch him. He’d be truly free, and even more wondrous, he might have a chance to win Roman’s freedom as
well. That alone was worth any risk.
His decision made, Aron set off. He stayed out of sight, though close
to well-traveled areas and crofts. He didn’t want to risk being seen, but he
wasn’t entirely sure he was heading in the right direction. All he knew was
it lay somewhere to the southwest.
The first few nights he slept under the stars, but he soon he decided he was far enough from Wulfgar’s lands to risk asking a crofter for the loan of his barn in exchange for some hours of labor. It was his first
chance to clarify that he was, indeed, on the right path to Londinium, as
well as for a hot meal and a warm place to lay his head.

He thought of Roman as he lay there in the dark, a coarse blanket pulled over him, nestled in hay that smelled of sweet summer days. He wondered if Roman had forgotten him already, if he was even now laying on his pallet, grateful there was no thrall there to disturb his sleep by holding him close.

Aron shook his head, turning to his side, but thoughts of Roman consumed his mind all day long, and the nights were no different, worse even. He couldn’t forget Roman’s parting words, hard and angry. His darkling had been glad to see him go, he thought. And that hurt so much he could hardly fathom it.