by Nhys Glover
At night, on the other side of the hut, I heard them rutting roughly. On one night the little man had even given Marta to his companion for a while. Probably to keep him in line. But from his guttural sounds and her utter silence I assumed Marta did not enjoy bedding either man. At least they did not seem to hurt her. Maybe she feared they would if she betrayed them.
But I could not consider what might happen to her if she helped me. My only task was freedom. If I could repay her later I would. But for now all that mattered was Ennia.
So when the men left and she came inside to feed me cooked oats the next morning I made my move.
“Her uncle is a brutish man. And he has unnatural desires for her. My Ennia. I am afraid for her,” I said between the mouthfuls Marta fed me. Though I wanted to turn my head away like a child, I fought down my gag response to the tasteless glug and ate every bite. I needed whatever sustenance I could get from my food.
“How old this girl?” she asked, studiously avoiding looking into my eyes.
“Younger than me,” I lied. “Barely past her first blood. Too young for marriage. But it is the only way to keep her safe. It is what her father wanted for her.”
Marta tutted. “Too young. I too young like that. Not family who force me. It my master. He old and hold me down. It hurt bad.”
“I am sorry. Some masters use slaves badly. I do not.”
She looked at me then, trying to gauge the truth of my words. As they were true, I let her see that in my eyes. I must have succeeded, because she nodded and looked back at the nearly empty bowl again.
“I go village. If ropes come lose while gone... not my fault, no?” she said ponderously.
I shook my head, feeling excitement rising inside me. So close. I was so close.
But I could not push her or she might change her mind. Patiently, I waited for her next move. When she put the bowl aside to begin loosening my bonds, I could have kissed her.
Instead, I meekly held out my hands to her and said, “Thank you.”
As she worked, my mind spun. If I escaped I needed to make sure Marta was not blamed. It was unlikely my bonds would have come loose, given the care my captors took with them. I needed to leave evidence that Marta had not released me. The ropes needed to be cut through, not loosened.
For my purposes I needed a sharp rock and the knife Marta had spoken of.
Before she could leave I asked, “Can I have the knife? I will saw at the ropes with it and leave the ends next to a sharp stone. They will believe you did not do this.”
She looked surprised. Was it because my plan was better than hers or because I was thinking of her safety? Nodding, she went to retrieve the knife.
“You save her, yes?” Marta said before leaving again. Her sadness made me all the more determined to help her too.
I had been working the blood back into my hands while she was gone and now used the knife to saw roughly through one thick section of the rope. Once that was done I went outside and found a suitably sharp rock and brought it back inside. I laid it next to the tangled mess of rope.
Studying my handiwork, I decided it wasn’t enough. My captors were not stupid enough to leave such a rock in easy reach of me. I dug a hole in the floor to make it look like I unearthed the stone. To finish off the scene I nicked my skin and dripped blood on the ropes and rock. If I had spent any time sawing away with the sharp instrument I would have removed skin as well as rope.
Once I was finally finished, I hurried outside again. If they kept to their routine, the men would be gone another hour or more. Hopefully, I could get far enough away by then to be safe.
After many hours of thought on my possible escape plan, I had decided not to throw myself on the mercy of the villagers nearby. I had no certainty they would help me. So my plan was to make my way to Gesoriacum and the naval base there. I had no doubt I would receive all the help I needed from my own kind.
Keeping to the tree-line, I followed the track to the village and then along the main thoroughfare heading south. I assumed this would eventually end up in Gesoriacum.
About an hour into my journey, I almost gasped in shock at the sudden sight of my captors striding quickly down the empty road toward me. They looked more determined than I had ever seen them.
What had happened? What news had they discovered that had them so frighteningly fierce?
Throwing myself into the thickets nearby, I prayed to all the gods that I had not been seen. I thought it unlikely, as I was staying well hidden from the road, but I wore a pale tunic—if a more grubby one than I would have liked—and it stood out against the greenery.
Holding my breath, I watched as the figures came closer.
What would account for their determined expressions? Were they heading back to the hut to kill me and make a run for it? Maybe their plan had failed and they wanted to clean up their mess before escaping? What would they do when they found me gone? Would they take out their frustration on Marta, no matter that it appeared she was not at fault?
As my questions went on unanswered, they passed me by. They had not seen me! Thank the gods, they had not seen me!
When I felt it was safe to go on, I rose to my feet and took to the road, moving at a soldier’s double-time. I needed to put as much distance as I could between myself and my former captors before they reached the hut, realised I had escaped, and came looking for me.
I had hardly gone any distance at all when a flash of movement from the woods drew my attention. A gang of men silently stepped out into the road in front of me.
My heart rose into my throat, and I felt ready to part with the boiled oats that seethed sickeningly in my gut. This was not good. Not good at all. I had stepped out of the proverbial pan into the fire.
The leader said something to me in what I assumed was the local dialect, his tone ominously friendly.
“I do not understand you. Step out of my way,” I answered with as much confidence as my military training could give me.
“Ah, what have we here then, a little Roman on the run? Where are you running to, little man?” the leader said, switching into common Latin with a heavy accent.
“That is Tribune Marcus Valerius Natalinus to you, and where I am going is none of your concern. Step out of my way.” I stepped forward with more aggression and confidence than I was feeling.
The man’s eyes widened slightly, just before a big smile split his face. “A tribune, huh? Well the Roman invaders are not well liked in these parts, little officer. Throwing your weight around here won’t work. I think we might need to teach you a lesson. What do you say, friends? Do we teach this Roman patrician what it is to steal land from Celts?”
From the nods all around I knew I was about to experience more hardship than I had ever hoped to encounter. If I survived their lesson I would be very much surprised.
Lifting my chin and straightening my still-aching spine, I stared the leader down. “Do your worst, scum. I am not afraid of you!”
Chapter Eleven
Gesoriacum GALLIA BELGICA
ACCALIA
As soon as we landed my men went into action. The plan was simple, they would keep the different elements of the party in view until such time as contact had been made. We would be spread thin, if the different members of the party split up at any time or they made contact with a lot of possible leads, but this was deemed acceptable, given there would be no direct confrontation.
The aim was to follow all the contacts back to wherever they came from until we discovered the ones keeping Marcus. Then it would simply be a matter of waiting for him to be released and then collect him.
Much to my annoyance, Phaedrus and I were immediately confined to a room in a nearby hostelry. I fumed loudly, as did Phaedrus, but Orion was adamant.
“We do not need to be worrying about you, she-wolf. And this may simply be an overnight stop on the way to Rome. They may not make contact with Marcus’ captors here.”
“But what if he is hurt? I could be nee
ded to heal him,” I argued.
Orion’s blue eyes flashed in the dangerous way I knew well. Few people challenged him when they saw that gleam in his eyes.
“And we’ll know where to find you if that is the case,” he said with barely concealed impatience. “If you’re following someone who is not the contact, we won’t know where you are.”
That made sense, I admitted grudgingly. But Phaedrus was not as easily convinced.
“I do not need to stay here. I can follow possible leads.”
Orion shook his head again. “I don’t want Accalia left unprotected. Please. She is just as likely to take off on her own if she’s left here alone.”
I huffed and scowled at my most annoying lover. He treated me like I was a child.
Then my memory threw up my actions in Rome during the fire. I had nearly got Talos and myself killed by underestimating the situation and overestimating my ability to be of use. Maybe it was not so outrageous to suggest I might do something like that again here.
Phaedrus looked from me to my men and then back at me. He sighed heavily and nodded. “You are right, of course. I will keep her safe.”
All this had happened quickly enough, and while I was being led upstairs to the room, my men were giving chase like the wolf pack that gave them their name.
The hours passed too slowly and Phaedrus and I said little to each other at first, our worries occupying us too well. But eventually I grew restless, began to pace, and my mouth began to move to allow my mind a much needed break from the internal cycle of repeated questions without answers.
“Why can you and Marcus not be together?” I asked the handsome slave sitting against the wall. He appeared far more patient than I was feeling.
“I am the slave of the governor.”
“But Marcus could buy you,” I suggested, though he had already mentioned that the governor needed him and was unwilling to let him go.
“Marcus Trebellium Maximus loves me. He depends on me. He will not sell me.”
“But if he knows you love someone else...” I argued, not understanding.
Phaedrus shook his head tiredly. “Do you not understand your own class? I am a possession, a valued and beloved possession, I grant you. But I am still a possession. As far as my master is concerned, I belong to him, and that is the end of it.”
I did know how patricians thought. And I hated it. But surely if someone loved another they would want the best for them. They would want them to be happy.
“I was sixteen when my master bought me. I was a junior scribe in the home of a senator in Rome. My life had been an easy one. When Trebellium saw me his feelings were immediately obvious. I was flattered by the attentions of such a man, I must admit.”
“You knew you were... I mean, you were happy enough to meet his sexual needs?” I floundered, not knowing how to express my thoughts.
“I knew before I reached manhood that I was different to other men. That my own interests lay with men not women. And Trebellium was a powerful man. That is attractive. And, as I said, I was flattered.
“At first I enjoyed my new position. But over time my new master became jealous and controlling. He would beat me if I attracted other men’s attention. I did not do it intentionally. But I did attract them, nonetheless. I am told I am handsome.” The face he pulled told me what he thought of his looks. He cared nothing for them.
“A few years ago he beat me near to death, which frightened him. He swore then that he would control his jealousy and never raise a hand to me again. And he has kept that oath. But I make sure he never sees me with Marcus. Because if he did he would realise how I feel about him.”
“How did you get him to approve you coming with us?” I asked.
His expression darkened. “He did not approve it. I was supposed to accompany the actress to the docks and then return to my post. I lied.”
My mouth dropped open. “But you have travel papers!” I cried in concern. This was a disaster. We had absconded with the slave of the governor of Britannia!
He shook his head. “We were in such a rush that I knew no one would check the scroll I grabbed up before leaving. It was an impulse. The idea of not being involved in rescuing Marcus was too much to bear.”
“But... But you are an escaped slave! And if he has beaten you almost to death before for minor infractions, what will he do to you for this?” I could not decide who I was more concerned for: us or Phaedrus and Marcus, who would be under the governor’s control when they returned. He might send Marcus into danger in a fit of jealous rage.
“You have put us all in danger now,” I said finally, unable to keep the distress from my voice.
“I will fix it. I know him well enough to be able to keep his attentions fixed on me.”
My heart turned over in my chest. That did not bode well. I hated what a mess this was. For all of us.
Time passed, food was brought to us. We waited and slept fitfully. It was hard to remember the last night I had slept properly. Certainly not since discovering Marcus had been taken. My men took it in shifts to sleep for a few hours and then return to watch the hostelry where Laria was being housed.
The next morning Asterius came back to alert us that contact had been made. Two men had come to the hostelry and gone to the room where my uncle’s men were staying. Typhon and Talos were following the men while Orion remained with the main party.
“Which way are they going?” I demanded anxiously.
My body felt heavy with exhaustion and worry, but I had to ask. I had to have answers.
“North. The two men stayed for only a few minutes and then headed out of town to the north,” Asterius told me reluctantly.
He knew me well enough to know I would no longer stay where I was.
“I am going,” I said emphatically, brushing the wisps of untidy hair out of my sleep-encrusted eyes.
Why had I not taken the time to wash properly when I arose? Because I had thought I had all day to do so and nobody to see me other than Phaedrus, who did not care one way or the other about my ablutions, that was why.
“No, you aren’t. You heard Orion. We need to know where you are in case we need your healing abilities.”
“Asterius, you know I cannot just sit around and... and do nothing. Neither can Phaedrus. We have to follow. It is the lead we have been waiting for!”
My too-handsome lover shook his head in defeat. “Orion will skin me alive for this. But, all right. Come on.”
Phaedrus had been gathering up our possessions as I argued. He beamed at me as we got Asterius’ reluctant approval.
“Why do you let them tell you what you can and cannot do?” he asked me as we strode down the dark hallway and stairs to the busy street below.
“Because we are a pack, and my class does not matter within it. I have learned the hard way that I am not always wise in my decisions. My pack often knows best.”
He shook his head and looked toward Asterius who was striding on ahead, clearing the way for us. “That was not what I just saw. I saw you using his affection for you to get your own way. As women do. As the mistress you should not have to use your wiles to get what you want.”
I huffed. “They are no longer mine to order around. They are free.”
“Still... It is a very odd relationship. Which one is your lover? I know they all love you, but which one has your heart?”
I felt myself blush with mortification. I had not expected to have this conversation with this man. Or with anyone.
Should I tell him? My natural preference for honesty told me I should. After all, I was not ashamed of my choices.
“All of them. They are all my lovers.”
That kept Phaedrus quiet for the rest of our journey.
Chapter Twelve
MARCUS
I had no weapon, but I had learned to fight, first with my pack, then with a private doctores and finally as part of the army. But my enemies outnumbered me six-to-one and had daggers. It would not be a long battle
. All I could hope for was that I would not shame myself.
The first dagger thrust came at me from a tall, skinny man with a nose that had been broken many times. His arrogance was my only advantage.
As he thrust at me, I stepped to the side, grabbed his wrist and knocked his weapon to the ground as I twisted his arm backward until I heard the crack of breaking bones. My enemy screamed in pain and fell to his knees. I kicked him in the chest and sent him to the ground.
I took the moment of shocked surprise to grab up the fallen dagger to brandish with confidence. Motioning for the next man to come at me, I grinned cockily.
But instead of one man, two came at me, one from either side. I knew I did not have a chance.
That was when I noticed there were more bodies lying on the ground than there should have been. Two others had joined the first. I looked up to see a face I never expected to see again. My heart soared in joy.
“Typhon!” I breathed.
Then everything became a blur. The two who had come after me realised someone else had joined the fight. One broke away to join his companion take on the new threat. Typhon had daggers in both hands and seemed very happy to deal with two opponents rather than one.
I focused on the one man remaining. He was the leader, and I could tell fast enough that he was by far the best fighter. It was clear from the way he moved that he had once been a warrior.
Our daggers clashed and my opponent, taller than me by a finger width, held the weapons above us, stretching my arm high. My arm muscles, along with those in my back had yet to fully recover from being bound for so long, so this manoeuvre weakened me quickly.
I lifted my left hand up, slammed it into my other wrist, and used the downward momentum to send our dagger arms off-kilter. I followed the arms down, with my left. When I was at the half-way point of the downward arc, I drove my left elbow into my enemy’s face. The sound of cartilage cracking was like music to my ears.
