Varro opened him mouth and then closed it again with a look of frustrated defeat. As he followed Catilina into the edge of the tree line, Salonius trod quietly behind him, a look of mixed confusion and disappointment on his face.
“You don’t think I’m like that do you?”
Varro laughed.
“Salonius, between you and her, the pair of your could outthink the Gods themselves.”
The young engineer glanced up to either side warily, regarding the trees of this hallowed space from the narrow deer trail, and imagined the face of the angered Huntress peering from every knot hole in every tree.
“Well that’ll be useful.”
Varro laughed again.
“If Phaianis has enough time on her hands to worry about three folk wandering among her trees then I’m sure there’s better things she could be doing. Besides, I’m almost out of her reach and your people don’t even believe in her.”
Salonius grumbled.
“She’s still there though. If I didn’t believe in air, would I stop breathing?”
“Besides,” the captain went on jovially, glancing over his shoulder, “we’ve got the Stag Lord on our side.”
Salonius glared at him but walked on silently.
After a few minutes they reached a small, overgrown clearing and Varro judged they had passed far enough into the woods and drew them to a halt.
“I think we’ll be safe now. I suggest we sit and wait.”
Catilina dropped her pack to the ground at the base of a tree and slumped against it, rubbing her sore hand and adjusting the splint before tightening the knot that had worked itself loose on the ride. Varro frowned and reached out to her wounded hand.
“I hadn’t noticed that before? What happened?”
Catilina shrugged. “Just a bit of bruising. Hurt my fingers on a man’s jaw.”
She sighed.
“I don’t wish to sound negative, Varro, but what exactly are you planning next?”
The captain grumbled.
“Next? Hell, I think we’re lucky to have got this far! I…”
Without warning the man suddenly collapsed as though his legs had been swept from under him, landing with a crash among thick tree roots. Salonius rushed over to him, bearing a look of extreme concern.
“What is it?” Catilina was suddenly next to his shoulder as he grasped Varro by the shoulders and tried to haul him into a seated position.
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s not good.”
Salonius gently raised the captain’s face and a dark gobbet of blood blurted from the older man’s mouth and ran down his chin onto his chest, leaving a slick trail. His eyes flickered open and he looked around in confusion.
“I…” He choked on another gob of blood that ran down his chin, following the trail of the first. His look of confusion cleared and he frowned.
“I think I’m getting a little too close to Phaianis for comfort now. Argh!”
He suddenly clutched his side. Salonius pointed back at the captain’s bag and addressed the lady beside him.
“Get his medicines. He needs the small bag. The strong one.”
As Catilina nodded and spun away to the other packs, Salonius realised she was forcing herself to stay in control. He could see just how close to panic and despair she truly was and wondered just how long she’s been hiding that beneath a veneer of optimism. A marvellous woman.
Turning his attention back to Varro, he undid the belt around the man’s waist and hauled his tunic up to examine the wound that had begun all this. As the meagre light afforded by the moon shining between the leaves hit the man’s pale skin, Salonius recoiled in shock and almost dropped the captain. The wound was no longer a neat and tidy scar. Repeated reopenings had given it a torn, jagged look and the edges of the wound were clearly badly infected. That wasn’t what had struck Salonius though. He was aware that the captain had been pushing himself further than he should and that the wound would likely be a mess. What truly frightened him was the area of skin surrounding the wound. Most of the man’s side, almost up to the armpit and half way around the torso was a dark purple-green colour and the veins stood out as black lines wriggling among the sickness.
“Shit!”
“What?” Catilina looked up from where she rummaged in the bag for the medicine, hampered by the lack of clear light.
“Er… nothing. His wound’s a little infected.”
Salonius concentrated on pulling the tunic back down and fastening the belt, unwilling to look at the young lady in case she saw the concern in his face. He had no great knowledge of medicine, but nobody that looked like that was going to last long.
Varro grasped him by the tunic below his neck and drew the young man down to his face level.
“Say nothing to her,” he whispered. “Let her hope.”
Salonius nodded, suddenly aware that there was a tear in the corner of his own eye. Clearing his throat, he wiped it away and turned to Catilina.
“I think we need to give him a dose of each of the three.” He was acutely aware now of the warnings Scortius had given him about the administration of medicines. Under no circumstances was he to allow Varro to take the strong one close to the others. It was a judgement call that wasn’t his to make. He leaned over Varro and whispered.
“You know what that means?”
Varro nodded.
“How could it make me worse, eh? You and I both know I’ll be lucky to leave this wood now.” Varro’s voice tailed off from a whisper to nothing.
Catilina approached, undergrowth crunching underfoot.
“Here. I’ll return in a moment.”
“Where are you going?” Salonius asked with concern.
“Just look after him. I’ll be back in a moment. The Huntress might listen. It’s her wood after all, and I’m not about to make a sacrifice of him.”
Salonius stared at her as she walked across the clearing and began to push her way into the brush.
“Don’t go far. And don’t be long.”
“Yes father!” she called back to him, without a trace of humour.
The young man watched the silent dark trees for a long moment and then drew his eyes back to the captain slumped in his arms. Varro smiled weakly.
“She’s gone off to cry. You know Catilina. She won’t snap in front of us again.”
Salonius shrugged sadly.
“You never know. Perhaps Phaianis is listening after all.”
“I wouldn’t rely on that.” Varro tried unsuccessfully to pull himself upright. “Alright. The three medicines. You’re brighter than me, lad. We both know I’m dying and we both know that mixing these three is probably going to place the coins on my eyes for my final journey. The only question I have is how long can you keep me upright. I need to feel strong and healthy for a little longer yet.”
“I can’t guarantee anything” the young man frowned. “I just don’t know what it’ll do.”
“Shh!”
Varro waved his hand in front of his young companion’s face and point out back along the deer trail. As Salonius concentrated, he realised someone was shouting outside the woods. Varro grasped the medicines from him and began to ingest them as fast as his laboured breathing and strength would allow. Salonius stared.
“That’s more than a dose of each!”
Varro tried to shrug, but winced in pain.
“Who gives a shit now? Help me up and get me within earshot of that arse.”
Salonius gingerly lifted the captain to his feet, aware unhappily that the front of the man’s tunic was spattered with his own dark blood and noting also that fresh trickles of blood ran from the corner of his mouth occasionally as he spoke.
Very slowly and endlessly carefully, the two of them limped along the trail for minutes that seemed like days.
“Captain Varro!” the voice came once more from outside; still distant, but now clear.
Varro cleared his throat and wiped the blood from his mouth.
&n
bsp; “I can hear you, you traitorous dick shit!”
There was a long pause and Varro grinned at Salonius; a grin that, with the rivulets of blood on his pale, moonlit skin, looked far more frightening than any war paint Salonius had ever seen.
“If you surrender now, I give you my word that the lady will go free. You and your companion are a different matter, but I’m sure you can see that’s a generous offer.”
Varro frowned.
“Huh.”
He took a deep breath and bellowed out of the woods “Very generous. But liars and traitors can afford to sound generous, can’t they. Who are you?”
Another pause.
“My name is captain Crino. I’m prefect Cristus’ adjutant. I am authorised to speak for him. I given you a promise that Catilina Sabianus will be escorted to safety. I pledge that by the flag fo the Fourth.”
“Piss off.” Varro sneered audibly. “I wouldn’t trust you to fasten your shoes right now.”
“Then we are at an impasse, captain” the soldier called. “I would prefer not to violate the sacred wood to come get you, but I don’t think I really need to. How much food and water do you have in your packs? Not a lot I would suspect. We can sit here for days.”
Salonius cleared his throat.
“The woods are full of rabbits captain. I expect we’ll eat heartily. And there’s a stream.”
Varro grinned at his young companion and Salonius smiled back.
The voice came once again. “I do have some unscrupulous barbarian scouts with me who don’t really believe in Phaianis. One of them already offered to burn the woods down for me. Obviously that would be irreligious and I could bring myself to give that order. But it’s possible that if I don’t keep them on a tight rein, they might do it anyway. They’re very eager to help, you see.”
Varro laughed.
“I think your biggest problem, soldier, is the fact that marshal Sabian isn’t far behind us and he’s really not going to be very happy with you when he gets here. In fact, I think you’d probably be advised to make a miraculous switch and offer your sword to him and give up your boss.”
“Very frightening. I don’t believe you, Varro. And even if he is, he’ll be on the main road. He won’t come to the woods.”
“I think you’ll find,” Varro countered, “that Sabian has more and better men than you. Our trail’s nice and easy to follow, and the mess you lot have left will make it all the easier. Now shall we stop this pointless banter and get down to business?”
There was a pause again and then Crino’s voice.
“You have only two options, Varro: surrender or hold out. If you surrender, we’ll make it nice and quick. If you hold out, we’ll burn you out.”
Varro grumbled and glanced at Salonius, who straightened and called out.
“Option three, captain: get prefect Cristus here in person and we’ll sort it all out.”
Varro stared at him.
“What?” he asked quietly.
Salonius shrugged.
“You’re running out of time. You want Cristus. Problem solved.”
The captain continued to stare for a moment, mumbling to himself.
“I guess it’s the best chance I’ll get. The only question is who gets here first: Sabian or Cristus. Both of them are about a half day away. You need to keep me alive and strong ‘til then.”
Salonius nodded.
“Alright” the voice called from outside the woods. “Prefect Cristus leaves the fort at first light for Vengen. I’ll bring him here on the way.”
Varro nodded to himself.
“It’s going to be close.”
Salonius smiled.
“At least we’re safe for the night. Let’s get back to the clearing.”
Helping the weakened officer along the deer trail, Salonius pushed into the depths of the wood to the small space where Catilina sat waiting for them.
“All went well, I take it?”
Salonius blinked. She seemed so calm; hardly the same person they had seen a few minutes ago leaving the clearing. As Salonius gently lowered his commander to the ground, Varro cleared his throat and smiled.
“Cristus will be here not long after first light.”
“And my father will be here around then too, I believe. I hope you have something planned?”
Varro nodded, his teeth clamped together in a feral manner.
“Oh, I do.”
Catilina smiled a genuine and surprising smile.
“Then we have the night to ourselves.”
Rummaging in the packs once again, she withdrew several blankets and her bedroll and spread them on the ground to create a thick, comfortable mattress. Smiling, she laid upon it as she pulled the largest blanket over the top and rolled the corner back invitingly.
Varro stared at her and she raised a cheeky eyebrow.
He turned to Salonius to find him grinning. The young man hurriedly turned and cleared his throat.
“There’s a very small clearing about half way back along the trail. I think I’ll keep watch if you don’t need me.”
Catilina nodded at him, turned to face Varro once again and patted the bed.
“We all know what’s happening here, Varro. I’m damned if I’m going to let what might very well be my last chance slip away from me while we sit, cowering, among the trees waiting for the end one way or another. I don’t know whether Phaianis will protect you in the morning, but I’m positive you’ll last the night. Don’t ask me why. Now come here.”
Meekly and nervously, the captain crossed the clearing on hands and knees and slowly laid himself down on the thick bed of blankets.
As he gathered his pack and slowly made his way back along the track toward the small hollow he’d seen earlier, Salonius smiled. It was nice. It was right in a way that, for some reason, he couldn’t quite identify. But through it all, he couldn’t help but notice deep within himself the edges of jealousy roiling around in his gut. Setting his jaw firm, he focussed on the task at hand. Tomorrow morning, one way or another, Varro was going to kill Cristus or vice versa.
Reaching the hollow, he dropped his kit, slumped beside it and pulled a thin blanket over himself.
His task was to make sure Varro was capable of doing this; to keep him as strong as possible and to give him as much of an edge as possible when he needed it. Sadly, while he had a number of ideas of how he could help, a lot of this still depended on Cristus. Salonius found himself wondering what the prefect was actually like and wishing he knew him better.
Tonight would pass slowly. His mind raced with ideas. How could he help his friend? How could he solve this? Catilina was right: he could only solve problems when they involved building or destroying things. Had to got with his strengths. For Varro; and for Catilina.
From back along the track he heard a light-hearted girlish giggle.
Tonight would pass slowly.
Varro fastened his belt around his tunic and looked down at Catilina, lying under the thick blanket and smiling up at him. The faintest rays of the dawn were piercing the deep blue of the darkness and the first birds of the dawn chorus were warning up for their arias. He squared his shoulders and sighed.
Strangely, he felt good; stronger than he had for a long time. Whatever the long-term effects of mixing and overdosing the drugs that Scortius had given him, in the short term, it made him feel like a warrior again. He flexed his bicep and smiled; a smile that faltered as his gaze passed across his tunic and took in the unpleasant blood stains from last night. He would last as long as he needed to. He would last the morning, and that was all he needed.
With a last glance at the young woman lying in the clearing, he sighed contentedly and strode off purposefully along the track.
Perhaps half way along it was a small hollow where Salonius had spent the night. But the hollow wasn’t there; or rather it was, but had changed. Now there was a sizeable clearing. Piles of wood and sticks were banked up against the clearing’s edge. Tools lay on a low r
ock, and Salonius sat cross-legged, busily working away at something with his back to the path.
Varro cleared his throat and the young engineer jumped.
“Hell, sir! You gave me a start.”
“Deep in concentration, then?” replied the captain as he crouched down next to the young man. Salonius was holding what appeared to be some sort of foot-thick belt and was slowly running it through his fingers, pressing it rhythmically with his thumbs.
“What the hell is that?”
“This,” Salonius replied with a smile, holding the item aloft, “is what’s going to give you the edge against Cristus. It’s not cheating. You’re at a disadvantage, since he’s fully healthy and you’ve a badly bruised and wounded abdomen. Take your tunic off.”
Varro blinked but, knowing better than to argue, did as he was told. Once he was standing, half naked, in the clearing, with the first light of dawn casting an eerie glow around him, Salonius stepped forward with the item.
“Kneel down and raise your hands above your head.”
Varro did so, and Salonius stepped above him and lowered the corset-shape over his arms and gently eased it over his head and chest, down to the wounded abdomen. Varro examined the item as Salonius began to tighten it, pulling cords that were ingeniously worked into the construction.
“Explain?”
Salonius carefully tied off the three cords as he spoke.
“It’s essentially a corset. The inner is formed of three thicknesses of my blanket. I used sap resin to attach vertical lengths of willow that I cut into strips. More resin set them into place. Another thickness of blanket attached with sap and the outer is made of stripped of boiled and hardened leather I tacked on. They’re from my water skin, pack and so on. But since they’re individual strips tacked on, they’re nice and flexible. My thought is that it’s give you support and protection around your abdomen. Without it, even if he punched you in the side, that’d be the end, I think. I’ve just got to attach the shoulder pieces to keep it in position.”
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