These were Coritani men, Brigantes allies. You are perhaps right, Cornellia. Mayhap also these men were goaded into attacking us. This Roman outpost has been here since I was a boy. It borders on Coritani territory, and they wouldn't attack unless they had been attacked first. Something is wrong here.

The big man eyed his Roman companion appraisingly. She was, as ever, stunningly clever. Perhaps a bit naive about Celtic ways, but she would learn very quickly, as she learned everything else quickly. She had picked up the Brigantes tongue with astonishing speed, and spoke more perfect grammar than some natives he knew. It still amazed him at her relative acceptance of the bloodshed that was so common in his homeland. She could have been born here. He then said to her, in his own tongue,

We're not going to Ebraic.

Culann turned onn his heel and began walking again, towards a special destination. He sensed that Cornellia was not following. Turning to her, he noticed that she had not moved from her spot. They eyed each other for a long moment. Cornellia glanced down at the ground, to where her luggage lay. She looked at Culann. Culann looked at he luggage. Culann looked at Cornellia. They looked at each other.

Heaving a great sigh, Culann leaned over and shouldered the woman's luggage. How his warriors would chide him for carrying a Roman's luggage, as if he, the Brehyrion, were a common pack-mule! This particular Roman, however, was worth respect. She had made sure, during his stay in Rome, that he was never maltreated. And a Brigantes always returned kindness with kindness.

Come, Cornellia. Our journey just got a bit longer.

The Roman woman followed Culann, asking "Where are we going?" several times, to which Culann replied,

Someplace special. Someplace safe. There is someone I want you to meet.