her about her beauty she modestly credited the isle and the power of the Mother. Certainly she had bloomed and blossomed and since her three girls had been born she had a wonderful aura about her which was apparent to everyone. Aodh was convinced that she actually glowed although Morwenna mocked him. “You are a man and every man can be bewitched by any woman. It is that little piece of manhood dangling between your legs that enables us to work our magic.” The community had also grown in the years since they had crossed the narrow Menai Straits. Blissfully ignored by Roman patrols, which thought the Druidic religion gone and were far too busy protecting the gold shipments from the new mines close to Wyddfa, the sisters all flocked to the island where their combined knowledge and power made each witch even more powerful. Morwenna knew that soon they would be able to leave the island and begin the revolt against Rome. They had meditated and communed many times; Morwenna had dreamed dreams but still she waited for a sign. The only man in the community, Aodh, was confused. “What sign?” “I know not.” “Then how will you know?” Enigmatically Morwenna said, “I will know when the sign comes.” Aodh was also confused about the three girls he had fathered. They had been born in three consecutive years and he had expected that as they regularly made love, for Morwenna said that it was part of her religion, they had no more children. Morwenna had looked at him as one might look at a cooking utensil or farm implement. “Three is a mystical number we have no need of other girls.” “How do you stop… I mean how can you know we will have no more children?” “Because it is in my power and not yours. You have served your purpose. Your seed was female and for that I give you thanks.” Other men may have been hurt that they were used as a Sire, a breeding bull, but Aodh was so smitten by Morwenna that he accepted these few crumbs of affection. The three girls also showed themselves to be almost identical to their mother and Aodh was barely tolerated by them. In the community he was seen as the provider of food and nothing more. As long as he shared his bed with Morwenna, Aodh cared not.
On the other side of Wyddfa Decius Lucullus was looking very pleased with himself. He had hit upon the idea of dressing his guards in Roman uniforms. This simple deception enabled him to ensure that the workers behaved themselves and stopped any other Romans from interfering. He had worked for his uncle, the deceased Governor of Britannia, Sallustius Lucullus, long enough to understand that if you gave someone the right title and appeared to have documentation then the bureaucratic Romans would leave you alone. The miners thought that the gold they extracted was going to Rome. They did not care for they were paid better than they had been in the mines to the south. What they did not know was that the gold was taken to Decius’ partner, Aula Lucullus who was busy buying land both in Rome and in Britannia. Decius was enough of a realist to know that they would eventually be caught out which was why he had purchased a boat which he kept at Deva; he was ready to get away to Rome as soon as danger threatened. His senior guard came over. He was jokingly referred to by Decius and the other mock Romans as Centurion. “Yes Centurion?” “Are you sure you don’t want me to take some lads out and frighten the locals a bit. It’s what regular Romans would do.” “I know but I want us to be seen as harmless. Let them play at witchcraft on their little island, we will be gone within the year.” The Centurion trudged away shaking his head. Decius knew that the real reason he had wanted to take out a patrol was to be violent with someone. The last thing that Decius wanted was the locals causing trouble. He had, of course, lied to the Centurion; he and Aula would have left the hell hole which