The Edge of Honor

by Minnette Meador

  With a roar, Quintius dropped the child and ripped his sword from its scabbard. The baby hit the soft tangled foliage around the base of the pillar, cushioning him when he landed. His lungs released, he screamed loudly.

  Delia crawled to her son’s side and took him into her arms. Marius smiled over to her and readied himself for the attack. Before Quintius reached him, he shouted to her, “Before I die, my love, know that I love you.”

  His vision filled with an irate Quintius who pushed him to the ground. The sword thrust forward awkwardly. Marius was able to roll out of the way to his right. Quintius was quick. The silver blade appeared above Marius before he had time to recover and buried into the meaty flesh of his arm. A hot shock of fire twisted his body away from the blade, forcing it out.

  He regained enough aplomb to kick hard upwards and a satisfying groan escaped Quintius’ lips. He fell to his knees holding his groin. Marius scrambled to his feet and jumped back, glancing at the center of the clearing. Delia and the child were gone.

  A flicker of disappointment flashed behind his eyes, followed by a huge relief. It was for the best. With them out of danger, he could concentrate on the two hundred pounds of angry Roman who was now on his feet charging toward him.

  Marius ducked when Quintius was close enough, but the blade glanced off his shoulder, leaving a deep cut. He grabbed the wound and swore as blood filled his hand. Weakness coalesced around his knees and he knew it would not be long. The next lunge and the blade would find its home in his heart or his gut. He had not enough strength left to dodge another.

  His lungs burned and his head spun violently as shock settled over his awareness.

  Quintius regained his balance and whirled to make another pass. Marius could only think of one more move to stop him. It was a distant hope, but all he had.

  When Quintius lunged again with the sword, Marius feinted to the right. Quintius caught the move and compensated in the middle of his lunge, weakening the power of the thrust. Marius move quickly to the left, but not quick enough. The blade slid through his side, just below his ribs. With his last strength, he moved into Quintius and brought his head hard against the tribune’s nose. A satisfying crack followed by a stream of curses filled the air around him.

  Marius fell to his back, Quintius on top of him, pinning his arms with the weight of his knees.

  Black spots floated in front of Marius’ eyes, but he could just make out Quintius’ bloodied nose and lips. Quintius’ eyes were wide with triumph. He pulled the sword quickly out of Marius’ side and grasped the hilt in both hands. In a flash, the sword twisted in the air and Quintius had it positioned just above Marius’ chest. Despite the obvious pain he was in, Quintius laughed.

  “Good bye, old man.”

  Just as the sword was coming down, it veered suddenly to the right and fell out of Quintius’ limp fingers. A befuddled confusion seared his face for an instant. Out of a slit that appeared along Quintius’ throat, a river of hot blood spilled across Marius’ chest and splashed onto his face. He saw the glint of steel as it finished the pass. The delicate pale hand holding it was white with strain.

  Quintius fell to the left and landed on the duff at Marius’ side.

  When Marius looked up, it was to stare into a set of fierce warrior eyes, sparking green fire, and a determined jaw. Delia stood back with the dripping dagger she had snatched from Quintius’ balteus. For a moment, Marius feared the hardened face staring back at him.

  Without warning, she fell to her knees and dropped the weapon.

  “Are you all right?” she said.

  Marius struggled to rise, but the pain was too much. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his strength. He heard the sound of ripping fabric. When he looked up, Delia tore the hem from her tunic, frantically trying to staunch the flow of blood. Marius reached up to touch her face and then passed out.

  The Edge of Honor

  Chapter XXV

  When Marius woke, Delia was sitting next to him with the baby on her breast. He did not say anything at first, wanting only to drink in her presence, her beauty, to enjoy a moment of simplicity. It had been a very long time.

  “You are awake,” she said softly, adjusting the baby from her breast and scooting over to touch his face. “How are you feeling?”

  Marius managed a smile. “I have felt better.”

  “Hmm.” Delia leaned over and kissed him gently. “The wound is serious but I was able to bind it tightly enough to get us home. But you have lost a lot of blood and will need a healer soon. Can you get up?”

  Marius grudgingly rolled to his side. The movement sent tracks of pain throughout his body, but he could withstand it. With Delia’s help, he got to his feet. He scanned the holy place.

  Quintius’ body was where it had landed, crumpled into a heap. Delia had not even closed the terrified eyes. Delia stood at Marius’ side, the fussing bundle mewing for more milk, tiny fists flailing in the air.

  “Would you like to hold your son?”

  Marius took her face in his hands and pulled it into a kiss. Nothing had felt more magnificent than the touch of those soft lips against his. When he was done with them, he kissed her on every inch of her face, allowing hot tears to dampen it. He pulled her and the child into his arms, ignoring the shot of pain up his side.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Reluctantly, Marius pulled away and focused on his son. Delia laughed at his clumsiness when he tried to take the baby.

  “You will not break him, dear. Just make certain his neck has support. There.”

  When the boy was in his hands, he looked down at him and frowned. A wave of exhilaration rushed through him, followed by an incredible flash of tenderness. It cut through the seasoned warrior into the heart of his devotion. He would never be the same again. When the baby opened his eyes for the first time to send a disgruntled leer up at his father, Marius could feel the sides of his mouth curl into a grin. The horror of the day’s events, the fear, the pain, all of it disappeared inside those large blue eyes. Marius took in air to relieve the strain on his heart.

  “He is beautiful.” The words were on the side of wonder.

  Delia took Marius’ arm. “What will we call him?”

  “He will be called Maximus Markus Lardanium, after my father and my friend.” He shot a sheepish look to Delia. “That is, if that is all right with you.”

  “Of course it is, Marius. I love that name.”

  Marius tore his eyes away from the baby long enough to examine his wife. Delia was exhausted. He could see it in the black circles under her eyes, the drawn face. He wondered how long it had been since she had a meal. He tucked the baby into his arm and pulled her against his side. Kissing her forehead, he led his family to Brutus. Without a backward glance, they left Quintius to the scavengers.

  * * * *

  A half hour down the forest path, dusk was quickening around them, making it very difficult to find the path out of the woods. When it seemed they would have to spend the night in the forest, a light appeared through the trees. A Roman soldier was holding it and behind him rode twenty more. A moment of panic settled into Marius’ middle and he pulled up on the reins.

  “Steady,” he whispered to Brutus.

  “Are they—”

  “Shh.” Marius moved the horse forward slowly until he could make out features in the gloom. When they cleared the trees, he laughed.

  Aelius led the group of soldiers.

  “Ah, there you are,” Aelius called. He gave his guardian a surreptitious examination and then turned his attention to Delia. “Your majesty.” He bowed, then straightened with a gleam in his eyes. “And this must be the little prince.”

  Sidling his horse over to Brutus, he studied the little bundle with awe. Marius had never seen him grin quite so widely.

  “Marius is hurt,” Delia said softly.

  Aelius became instantly alert. He moved to Marius and lifted his blood soaked shirt.

  “It is a scratch,” Marius ra
ged, trying without success to remove his ward’s hands. Aelius ignored the outburst and called for the medico. Over his objections, three men and the medico pulled Marius from the saddle and set up a makeshift treatment area. Aelius helped Delia and the baby.

  Despite his protests, Marius was glad of the treatment. The pain was becoming unbearable and Marius knew it would only be a matter of time before he lost consciousness again. They made him lay down.

  After a quick examination, the medico ordered hot water and his instruments. “You will live. Another hour I doubt that would be the case. You have lost a great deal of blood. This will take some time.”

  Marius touched his arm before he administered the analgesic to deaden the pain. “Please see to my wife and child.”

  The medico nodded as he cut the tunic from Marius’ side and hissed in his dissatisfaction when the wound came into view. “Another man would have died from this ‘scratch,’ sir. You are lucky.”

  Marius was having trouble keeping his eyes off Delia and the baby as they settled. “You have no idea how true that is.”

  The medico pressed the drug saturated compress to his side and Marius closed his eyes against the pain. In moments, it faded.

  When they were through sewing the large wound and dressing the cuts to his arm and shoulder, the medico grudgingly allowed Marius to mount his horse again. They offered Delia another, but she refused it in favor of sitting with her husband. Marius gratefully took them both back in his arms and held her tight for the duration of the journey.

  “What happened with Suetonius?” Marius asked Aelius as they rode.

  “Ah, the Praefectus was very kind to the general, but rather insistent. It was… difficult for a while, but Kuna and I took the opportunity to discuss the situation with the legion. It took the Praetorian and most of the legion to convince Suetonius that the order from Afranius was valid. He finally stood down and most of his personal guard returned to headquarters. Suetonius will stay with the Praefectus until they leave for Rome. The Praetorian will keep him company until then.”

  “Who has he assigned in Suetonius’ stead?”

  Aelius shook his head. “No one, as far as I know. The Praefectus ordered the legion to camp for the night. Perhaps he will stay himself.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Aelius,” Delia said. “How are my people? Were they hurt?”

  “No, Majesty. They were able to stop the javelins before they flew.” A large grin creased his face. “Much to Evyn’s chagrin, I might add. My understanding is he has spent the last five days in deep training with the remnants of your people, with no sleep and little food. He is not in much of a mood, I am afraid. Kuna and I had to personally attend to his disquiet. He is sleeping now, I assume. We sent the lot back home.”

  He reached over and patted Delia’s hand. “Your people comported themselves with great honor, Your Majesty. Had it come to battle, I think, even grossly outnumbered, they would have fought bravely and not surrendered. Evyn is a fine leader and great asset to you both.”

  Marius was a little surprised. Aelius did not impart compliments of this sort easily. Marius would have to delve more deeply into the events of the last few hours.

  When they emerged from the forest, it was to a sea of Roman tents, campfires, and milling soldiers spread in both directions. Suetonius had indeed garnered every soldier available for this fight. Marius could not remember when he had seen so many soldiers gathered together. Not even during the Boudiga uprisings a year ago. It was a bit disconcerting and a twinge of irritation furrowed his brow. They stood at the door of his home.

  He smiled at the thought.

  This was indeed now his home.

  The Roman warrior, the centurion, was gone. Now there was only Marius, husband to the queen, father to the future king. The notion sparked a kind of tranquility through him that he welcomed when he spurred Brutus to the large tent at the center of the camp.

  As they approached, ripples of soldiers’ voices preceded them. Men emerged from their tents, left their suppers uneaten or stopped their work to follow the mounted travelers. It made Marius a bit jumpy to have this sea of red tunics surrounding them on all sides.

  He pulled Delia closer.

  They dismounted at the front of the tent.

  The twenty Praetorian guards outside suddenly stood at attention and saluted the group. Marius assumed they were waiting for the Praefectus. When he did not appear, he wondered whom they were saluting. He looked around as he helped Delia and the baby from the saddle. All he really wanted to do just then was return to Hillfort so he could get clean and hold his family in his arms forever. A wistful smile touched his lips and Delia smiled back at him.

  Entering the tent, Marius saw Afranius and Seneca standing behind a table with maps of Britannia spread everywhere. They seemed to be having a heated debate, but it ended abruptly when he entered.

  “Marius!” Seneca swept around the table as quickly as his bulk could carry him and held out his hand. “You look terrible.”

  Marius shook his head and then his friend’s hand. “I have had better days.”

  “And how is the little prince.” Seneca moved to Delia and cooed down at the baby. “Are you all right, my lady? We were so worried about you.”

  “I am tired, counselor, but whole. Quintius did not hurt us badly.”

  Seneca nodded gravely and returned to his place behind the table.

  “Please have a seat, Centurion,” Afranius said gruffly, motioning to a chair across the table. “The rest of you may go.”

  Marius watch as Aelius and his soldiers cleared the tent. “Am I in trouble, sir?”

  Afranius folded his hands on the table and glared at him. “No, son. But we need your help.”

  “I am here to serve.”

  “We leave for Rome in two days. We will be taking the general back with us. I have no one I can trust to govern this island. I am appointing you Governor of Britannia.”

  The pronouncement was so abrupt Marius could not find words and stared blankly at the Praefectus. He turned to look at his wife, but her eyes were on the baby. Marius could see the fury spark within them.

  “Governor? You… honor me, sir.”

  “Good. Then it is settled.” Afranius rose from the table and picked up a large piece of parchment.

  “No, sir.”

  All three mouths fell open at the words.

  Afranius broke the silence. “What did you say?”

  “I said, no, sir.”

  “Explain yourself,” the Praefectus growled, sinking into his chair as if preparing for war.

  Marius leaned toward the table. “If you had asked me two months ago, I would have leapt at the chance. But, now…” He shook his head. “My commission is up, sir. I have served my time and I have given mother Rome everything I can. I will continue to serve her, sir, by making her province flourish and prosper.”

  “That is what I am offering you, Centurion. A chance to rule this nation as it should be ruled.”

  “No, sir. Britannia rules herself. We are invaders here. We have ravished a culture that was once rich and full. Its traditions date back thousands of years. It was already thriving before Rome was an inkling in our ancestor’s thoughts. No, sir. I would be betraying everything I have come to love in the world.” He took Delia’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I will serve my queen and raise my son to value those things that make both our cultures rich.”

  Afranius folded his arms and sat back in the chair. “Then who the hell am I going to get to govern this island until I find someone else?”

  The thought struck Marius like a lightning bolt. “I have an absolutely perfect candidate for you, sir. It will require a bit of faith on your part.”

  Afranius scowled.

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, they emerged from the tent and the Praetorian stepped in time behind them as they made their way to the edge of the clearing. Kuna, Aelius, and a few of their men jumped to attention as soon as
they appeared.

  Marius lifted Delia onto Brutus’ saddle and then gingerly climbed up behind her. He was suddenly very tired and wanted nothing more than his own bed, along with an eternity of peace and quiet. As he turned the horse to head for home, he heard the Praetorian call for attention and Afranius lift his voice.

  “Front and center, soldier.”

  Marius glanced back to see Aelius meekly toe the line before his superior officer.

  “You are hereby promoted to Tribune, soldier. You are to report immediately to the command camp where you will assume the responsibilities as Temporary Governor of Britannia until I can find a replacement. In the interim, you will have assigned to you Centurion Kuna and his century. They will act as your personal guard, and your liaison. Are these orders clear to you?”

  It appeared that Aelius could not breathe for a moment and Kuna’s lips twitched, trying to suppress a smirk.

  “Yes, sir,” Aelius finally whispered and then cleared his throat. “Very clear, sir.”

  “Good, now here are my orders for the remainder of the week…”

  The voice faded away as Brutus carried Marius, Delia, and little Maximus on the worn path home.

  “You are still in trouble, you know,” Delia said, pulling the baby closer.

  “I know.” Marius saw the torches of his home glistening brightly across the field.

  “We have much to discuss.” Her voice had a lilt of humor to it and Marius smiled.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “You are not so easily forgiven. It is going to take time.”

  “A lifetime, my love.” He stopped the horse and pulled her head back to kiss her on the forehead. “I am counting on that.”

  Delia twisted in the saddle and touched his face. Tears welled in her eyes, but her smile was glorious. “You could have taken the position. I would not have protested.”