Chapter 4: Chapter 4

“Good boy.”

The comment grated. “I’m thirty-five summers old, Gran!”

He heard her chuckle as he stepped into the daylight.

Their home was a large circular building with a thick, thatched roof. It was one of twelve in the enclosed village, which itself was encircled by a defensive fence of posts, sharpened to a point at the top. Beyond the fence lay fields of wheat, which had only recently been harvested. The wheat stalks had been gathered and tied into bundles, which dotted the bare brown field. They would be stored and used to feed the livestock through the coming winter. The grain itself had been threshed and portioned out to each of the twelve families in the village, most of whom were related to Brennus and his family in one way or another. Naturally, some of the harvest had been set aside to pay the tribute imposed on every village by the Red Devils. Without it, the imposters would starve, a tempting proposition that no one was brave enough to undertake.