#longbow anon

'So what do you think.' The horse's owner, a traveller from Gaul unusual this far up north, peered at them with lowered brows. His accent was thick, more used to the Brythonic dialects of the south than the midland ones now quick on Alba's tongue. 'You take her? She's strong; good for distance.'

'She seems healthy.' Alba agreed, 'Perfect for the winter.'

'That what you need her for?'

Alba didn't reply.

The stranger raised his hands, conceding, 'Well, she is yours if you want. She can't have more foal so she no good to me, and no war mount either.' He patted his other horse on its thick neck, the creature a good few hands taller than the smaller female they were discussing. They were tied together with a long rope, the smaller horse further tethered to a loaded wooden wagon.

Alba ignored this comment too. 'What do you want for her?' He asked, switching to what he hoped was the man's native tongue, a language from Northern Gaul he had picked up from some sailors a few years ago. It was useful to know the closest ones from the mainland and he was rewarded for his rusty troubles with a wry smile.

‘125 denarii’, The Gaul said smoothly, ‘Or equivalent, if you have other currency.’

'Coins?' Alba shifted Albion's weight, his brother slipping from his grip in his attempt to lean closer to the horse, too interested in stroking her to pay any attention to the conversation. 'What about in trade?'

'I trade in coin for horses.'

'We don't use coin here.' (1)

'Then you don't trade with me.'

Alba silently cursed. They did not need a horse, not in the way they needed food or shelter, but it would certainly be useful. Winter was tightening its grip on the land and a horse would make tracking across snow and icy terrain between clans much easier. Alba and Ériu could cross the distances fine enough, but their brothers were too young to make as many long treks without either numerous breaks in between or long stops in settlements. Summer, with its days of generous light and warm weather, made the amount of travelling Alba wanted to do easier, but as soon as the days grew short it became more and more difficult to move safely at any decent speed. Mama always had them more settled at this time of year, but even Albion could feel a new restlessness in the air that hadn't been there in her time.

A mare would help.

Alba placed Albion down and felt discreetly for the pouch of assorted coins against his leg. 'Why do you want coin?'

The Gaul shrugged, 'Much of the mainland uses coin. It's common.'

'Not here.'

'Here is not the main land.'

'Why for horses?'

The man spread an arm in an arc over his wagon, the thick waterproof cover high over whatever was piled underneath, 'Everything else, I'll trade for in these parts. But horses are worth their weight in gold, here as much as anywhere else. The value is not tradeable.'

Albion tugged at Alba's trousers, 'Let me back up.'

'We have quality things to trade.' Sticking to the stranger's language, Alba kept the Gaul's gaze. Albion tugged at him again and Alba gripped the shoulder of his cloak to hold him still, fingers digging down firm. 'Cloth, dyed. Jewellery, skins, meat-'

'I only trade horses in coin.'

The man spoke politely enough but Alba could hear the note of finality in his words.

'Adair-'

'Shh!' Alba pushed Albion away towards the horse, noting that she was still patient and calm despite the child by her feet. 'Go away.'

From his inner pocket, he lifted out the pouch which held their meagre collection of coins. They were all different: various sizes and colours, with different pictures on their sides. They found them along their travels by the sides of worn and well walked roads, usually in the south around port settlements and trade points. Albion and Ériu had a keen eye for them in the mud and grass and they had amassed a fair few.Alba selected the biggest one and held it out.

The man blinked at him.

'For the horse.' Alba said.

The man laughed loudly. Alba felt his cheeks flush and brought his hand back down, feeling wrong-footed. 'What?'

'You are serious?' The man shook his head and grinned, 'One coin?'

Alba frowned. 'You said you wanted coin. One horse, one coin.'

'By the Gods.' The man ran a hand through his hair and laughed again, 'If I didn't know you were serious, boy, I'd beat you for the cheek of it. One horse, one coin; my my.'

He huffed in amusement and gestured for the pouch, 'Show me those.'

He took the collection and tipped the contents into Alba's palm, moving the coins around with a thick index finger. 'You see the different faces and sizes? They all have different worth.'

Alba stared at them.

'They're not like pots, or furs, where the value is unique to what you’re trading.' The man continued, flipping over one of the coins, 'If one if shiny or newer, it doesn't change value. So long as it is the same weight. And the different sized coins represent different value, as well as what they’re made of.'

‘But some are gold.’

The man patted Alba hard on the shoulder, 'You need to learn money, boy, if you want to do proper trade.'

Alba forced his face to stay expressionless, 'Is it enough. For the mare.'

'No.'

Alba scoffed and tipped the money back into the pouch. 'Then this has been a waste of both our time.'

The Gaul sucked at his top lip behind his moustache and jerked his head over Alba's shoulder, 'They all yours?'

Ériu and Cymru were further away behind them on the muddy track, kicking a small rock back and forth between them. Ériu caught the rock between Crymu's feet and kicked it free with a shout of victory, dashing away to gain a clear advantage.

'Yes.' Alba said, watching them.

‘Parents? Clan?’

‘No.’

The man nodded. 'That's a lot of you. You’re all young to be alone as you are.'

Alba didn't reply.

‘Tell you what.’ Before Alba could react, too quick even to register exactly what happened, the man hunkered down and gripped a hand around Albion’s upper arm. He tugged him closer, hard enough so that Albion tripped over his feet, ‘I’ll take this one as payment. We’ll do it your way and make it a trade.’

He cupped a hand around Albion’s head to stare into his eyes, critical and cool as if assessing an animal, ‘He seems strong enough to grow into something worthwhile.’

‘Get off him!’ Alba’s voice cracked, surprise rendering him younger, and stepped forwards, one hand going to the dagger by his side.

The man put up a hand, eyes still on Albion, ‘Calm down. I’m only looking.’

‘He’s not for sale.’

‘You want to trade rather than pay? This is at least a fair exchange.’

Albion, the shock of being tugged about by a stranger finally having worn off, twisted sharply and bit down hard on the man’s wrist. The Gaul reacted in kind and stood with a yelp, sending Albion flying back with a wet thud into the muddy ground.

‘Vermin!’ He kicked out at Albion where he lay sprawled, catching him in the stomach.

Over Albion’s cry of pain, Alba heard Ériu shout something from behind him, then the sound of running.

The man returned his attention to Alba and cradled his wrist, his eyes flashing, ‘It was a true offer, made in kind faith. He would have had a better life with me and you’d know it, if you weren’t so damn foolish. Food, shelter; not this.’ He gestured to Alba’s worn clothes, travel stained and haphazardly repaired.

‘We don’t want the kindness, sir.’

‘Then by your own death be it.’ The Gaul shook out his hand and swung himself up onto his horse. Clicking his tongue, he kicked at its flank and moved them off without a look back.

Alba lunged forwards and quickly dragged Albion out of the way of the wheels before they could clip him, hoisting him into his arms.

‘You’re alright.’ He told him, more to make it true than anything else, ‘It wasn’t that bad.’

‘What happened?’ Ériu came panting beside him, looking from Alba to Albion and then at the retreating caravan, ‘Did he-‘

‘Leave it.’

Ériu reached for his dagger as Cymru came breathless and horrified by his side, ‘Who does he thi-‘

‘Leave it.’ Alba, grabbed his arm. ‘It’s not worth it.’

He felt Albion press his face into his shoulder, arms tight about his neck, and swallowed back something hot and bitter, ‘He’s not one of ours.’

Ériu’s expression soured into disgust, ‘I don’t think that should change anything.’

‘Doesn’t matter what you think.’ Alba turned away so that Ériu couldn’t see the shame and anger on his face, ‘It fucking does.’

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‘Adair.’

Alba opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling of their makeshift shelter. The campfire Ériu was guarding outside made the shadows jump, the outlines of the branches supporting the skins above their heads jumping and lengthening into nothingness.

‘Ad-‘

‘What, Arthur.’ Alba turned his head to find Albion, wide-eyed and watchful between him and Cymru.

‘What that man said earlier-‘

Alba turned away. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘Is that how people see us now?’

Albion’s voice was quiet, smaller beyond trying not to wake Cymru fast asleep on his back. Alba rolled back to face him, ‘See us like what.’

Albion shrugged, a small movement under heavy furs, ‘Alone.’

More than simply alone, Alba knew he meant. ‘Alone’ as something bad, something less than. Something to be pitied. He cracked the knuckles of one hand with his thumb under the covers as he thought of what to say, ‘We are alone.’

‘Mama was alone.’ Albion said quietly, ‘She used to say so, before we were here. But-’

‘Mama was grown.’

‘She wasn’t always.’

‘Before then, there were more. Mama was the last one of her family before we came along.’

‘It wasn’t a bad thing then, though. For her to be alone.’

‘Were you born?’ Alba raised an eyebrow even though Albion likely couldn’t see it, ‘How do you know.’

Albion stayed silent. Alba thought of his belly, the purple bruises they had found bloomed into his pale skin from the boot that caught him earlier, and reached for his brother to gently pull him closer, ‘We are alone. That’s our fate now. Believing it to be good or bad won’t change it. It just is.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Nothing wrong with being alone, anyway.’ Alba tucked Albion’s head under his chin, his hair cool from the chilly air, and closed his eyes, ‘We’re alright on our own.’

‘We need to get better at it.’

‘I’ll take your advice when you can stay awake through a watch.’

‘...That was one time.’

‘The only time we let you try.’

Albion huffed and shifted closer. ‘I don’t want to go on watch anyway.’

‘Then I don’t want your advice.’

Albion fell silent, and Alba listened through Cymru’s snores as his breathing slowed and deepened. Every experience had something to learn, Mama had always said, and the day’s teaching was a valuable one, as hard as it was to take. The world beyond their lands was unknown, and something they’d need to learn to read and understand if they wanted to work with it successfully.

The next day, Alba spread the illegible coins of foreign kings onto the ground and began to learn.

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AN:

(1) Celts and trade. Celtic peoples used a bartering system of trading goods, rather than using money. Coins were used to store or show wealth but were also just as often used in jewellery. Celtic nations on the European mainland did eventually start minting their own currencies, followed by the British Celts much later, but it was a system quite late to take compared to their contemporaries