of only mild interest, Aethaedry watched the War Chief leave the Inn. What had the odds been on him wandering into the self same place that he had chosen to stop for a quick meal and a drink before he left the town. He knew he had brought needless suspicion on himself by seeming to look away too quickly when the man had entered, he couldn't help it, the man was a bane! Snatches of conversation drifted to him in the sombre atmosphere, mostly quiet speculation on the future, based on the attack on the Queen. Aethedry kept his face straight, if only they knew the whole story...

With a contemptuous glare for the obese innkeper and his pathetic attempts at humour, he tossed the price of his meal in the general direction, and made to leave the Inn, unobtrusively glancing in both directions as he stepped outside. Nobody. He turned toward the western gate, absentmindedly fingering the hilt of his knife as he forced himself to wander slowly, not wanting to attract any more attention than neccessary for an Iceni in Verulamium. His thoughts wandered as he walked...

Events had overtaken him faster than he would ever have believed... at first, it had seemed just idle banter, back home, until things had taken a new turn. From himself and a few friends grumbling about the Catuvellauni, and the way they had promised so much resistance at first, and then rolled over for the Romans, it had somehow grown into a much more organised band.

It was that Targ... He was the one who had led them down this path... He promised coin for aid in what he said was a way to get the Tribes to rise up, once more, like in the old days. He told tales of mighty battles, of great warriors that fired the blood, and finally persuaded Aethedry and his few friends to join him.

Aethedry had been told to come to Verulamium, and to befriend some of the warriors who formed the core of the Catuvellani Queen's guards, which he had done, using the coin that Targ and his band had provided. He'd never seen so much in his life, but it soon dwindled, buying ale after ale for thirsty warriors reduced him to almost the same situation that he had been in before Targ arrived.

His new friends had provided what he wanted, even if they didn't realise it. He had known two days before that the Queen and a small band of warriors would be escorting a scattering of merchant's wagons some distance along the road to Camulodunum... He also knew from Targ's messengers that the nearest Roman soldiers were miles away from the town.

At first he had been elated when he figured out what was going to happen, after all, these stinking Catuvellauni had always been throwing their weight around before the Romans came, and they were just waiting the right time before they did it again!

Unfortunately, things hadn't gone quite as expected. Instead of falling upon a relatively small number of defenders and slaughtering them to a man... the Queen included... the Catuvellauni had brought more men than he had been led to believe. And they had been led by Aonghais, of all the people it could have been, it had to have been the Tribe's War Leader. After that, things had gone badly wrong. Aethedry hadn't heard from anybody from the band as of yet, which unnerved him. Always before there had been somebody waiting for him back at the small hut he had bought, just outside the town walls, but from the soldier's gossip in the inns, and the gossip in the squares, the rebels had been all but wiped out.

Now he was scared... As he made his way out of the town to his empty hut, his hands had begun to tremble slightly. What should he do? This was killing him, he was sure Aonghais knew something, from the look he darted at him. Would he go home to find himself spitted on a Catuvellauni sword as soon as he went in? Or had Targ survived and come to finish him for giving him false information? Whatever happened, he knew he had to find somewhere to hide, until he could make himself useful to Targ, or whoever was in charge, now. Perhaps he could get close enough to find out what the Romans planned to do, now that the whole purpose behind the attack had backfired, and they had not been blamed, as had been planned.

He pushed up the leather flap that covered the front of his home... and almost died right there on the spot...

"Greetings,Aethaedry..."