Steven Hughes
The Wolf of Albion is an action-packed historical novel set in First Century A.D. Britain. Pitted against Imperial Rome, the legendary Celtic Prince, Caratacus leads his people in their struggle against the invading legions, after winning the throne of Southern Britain. He battles to preserve the culture and way of life of the British Celtic tribes, both of which are quickly disintegrating under the Roman yoke. In a world where murder and sorcery mix with betrayal and rebellion, Caratacus finds a female warrior, the vulnerable Rhiannon, to fight at his side and a lifelong enemy, the Druid Priestess, Taran.
Steven Hughes is a retired police detective sergeant who holds a masters in Public Administration with a minor in Ancient Mediterranean Civilizations. He has traveled extensively through out the Mediterranean world and possesses a huge research library of Classical, Celtic and Near-Eastern History. He has previously published articles on the policing of Ancient Rome and the early history of the London Metropolitan Police.
Caratacus lay patiently on his stomach, hidden among the thorny branches above the stream cutting through the wood. His quiver filled with birch arrows, his fingers curled around the grip of his powerful yew bow. In late July, best of hunting seasons, he hoped to bring down the giant red stag, the great buck of forest legend.
Would this at last please his father, the High King? At sixteen, he still had to prove he was the son worthy to succeed him as ruler of Southern Albion's tribes.
The deer emerged only at sunset and dawn from the safety of the forest to drink. But so did the great honey-brown bears of the River Tamesis Basin. Fresh spore gave proof that both were nearby--he had to stay alert.
Tall pines slowly cast purple shadows across the narrow valley, enshrouding the distant trees. Soon the sun's fiery glow would disappear below the canopy of the forest, and plunge him into darkness. This was his last chance to kill the great stag before he and his younger brother left their father's home in Camulodunum for the kingdom of the Atrebates. Caratacus chafed at the thought of losing an opportunity to earn Cunobelinos' recognition.
Caratacus had slain other bucks, but they were barely yearlings. He prayed to the Deer God to send the huge creature to his waiting bow. Slaying such a huge buck would be an omen of prosperity for the kingdom.
Across the stream at a distance, Caratacus saw the crouched form of the Old One, quietly waiting in the bushes of rough heath and scrub. A good sign. Wolves seldom lingered in a spot within the scent of bears. The ancient wolf's once-slick coat of cream and black had turned a mottled gray. His short pricked ears drooped with age, and his smoky eyes had faded to a washed-out gray. Again the old wolf had padded behind Caratacus at a cautious distance. On three other occasions it had patiently hung back until he had shot his game. Pitying the beast, Caratacus left the entrails of his kill for the aging warrior to devour.
An outcast, the animal was too old to provide its share for the pack, surviving on rodents and insects. Ordinarily, wolves took care of their own kind, even the old. Caratacus knew the wolf was his totem, his helping spirit--powerful magic. Although many hunters killed wolves for their fine pelts, he wouldn't strike this ancient down.
The young prince squinted upstream as the sun dropped below the pine-topped ridge. A cool evening breeze rolled in from the Channel. Then, soundlessly, an enormous red stag stepped from the shadowy edge of the woods. The giant's shaggy ruff coat was the color of dark blood, and its antler's rack were like branches of a massive tree. Cernunnos himself couldn't have been larger. Even in the gloomy light the animal's huge rack was unmistakable, at least eleven massive points. Caratacus' mouth twitched, and his bow arm began to shake, making the bush concealing him rustle. Instantly, he brought his free hand across and pinned the twitching arm to the earth. He couldn't scare the buck away.
