The Centurion

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “God give me strength,” he muttered. “That girl is going to be the death of me yet.”

  Jess was greatly amused by the entire circumstance. “She is headstrong,” he said. “You have known that from the start.”

  “I have known that from the start, but when her headstrong nature becomes reckless, that is a problem.”

  Jess couldn’t disagree. “Her father and Brockenhurst have been unable to break her of her inclination to wander,” he said. “I have heard Winslow de Ameland speak of it. He is worried that, someday, his daughter will wander right into the arms of the enemy. She seems to have no sense of self-protection.”

  Torston simply shook his head. “I am unsure if she ever will,” he said. “I think she plays a game with me to see how long it takes me to go out and find her.”

  “Then don’t go. Let someone else go.”

  Torston wouldn’t go so far as to agree with him. He didn’t want anyone else hunting Alyx down; that was something only he wanted to do, an urge that had grown particularly strong as of late. Wanting off the subject, he caught sight of a strange caravan of sorts in the bailey beyond the wide-open doors. He gestured in that direction.

  “I see the Nubians have arrived,” he said. “When did they come?”

  Jess turned around to see the wagons containing exotic people and animals kicking up dust in The Lyceum’s vast bailey. He hadn’t noticed them when he’d first entered with Alyx and now they had his attention.

  “While you were out looking for Lady Alyx,” he said. “Their leader speaks passably enough so that I understood that they came in through Newcastle but got held up at Prudhoe Castle because the Lord of Prudhoe was convinced that they were trying to overtake northern England. Only the missive from Harringham allowed them passage and they have been heading north for three days.”

  Torston took a few steps in their direction, peering at the unusual sight. “So that’s the entertainment Harringham has purchased,” he muttered. “I hope they’re good. I know that Harringham paid a good deal for their services and transport. He says he’s seen similar entertainment troupes in Rome.”

  Jess, too, was watching the ebony-skinned people from afar as they disembarked their wagons. “I am eager to see them perform.”

  “As I am. Harringham mentioned inviting allies to see them, like de Wolfe and Northwood Castle. He wants to impress them.”

  Jess grinned. “They should,” he said, pointing to the troupe. “I’d better make sure they are appropriately settled. And you’d better make sure Lady Alyx goes a-wandering no more.”

  With that, he left Torston standing there, thinking that Jess probably sensed there was more going on between Torston and Alyx than Torston was willing to admit.

  It was the truth.

  Nine years of fighting off the prettiest lass in northern England. Nine years of a betrothal he never wanted. Nine years of a life he couldn’t plan for himself because of it. Torston had always been the man in control of his destiny, or at least he thought he’d been.

  But that was a young man’s fantasy.

  The reality was that he had an obligation he didn’t want, thrust upon him by his father. The man thought he’d been doing his son a favor by pledging him to a wealthy ally, the de Weese family. It was a very old family and, according to Torston’s father, one that would soon die out if the heiress did not marry.

  And that was the burden he’d been saddled with.

  Saving a family line.

  God, he didn’t want it. His attention turned toward the stairs where he last saw Alyx. He could admit to himself that now that she was of age, it was Alyx de Ameland that he wanted, not a fiancée he’d only met once in his life, years ago. Her family had tried to arrange visits since then, but Torston insisted he was too busy. The last request for a visit came three months ago and he hadn’t even responded to it. It came around the same time that Alyx celebrated her eighteenth birthday.

  Now, he was a man torn.

  Still, he had enough sense to know that he probably shouldn’t go up to Alyx’s chamber to lecture her about running off again. She had a way of bending him to her will and she wasn’t beyond throwing herself at him. And as of late, he was increasingly weak against her onslaught.

  Nay, it wouldn’t do well for him to go up there now. She’d throw herself at him again and one of these times, he wouldn’t be able to resist her.

  Then, they would all be in a good deal of trouble.

  Therefore, Torston found duties to occupy himself with until the sun began to set and the hall began to fill with people, including the dance troupe from Nubia. Then, and only then, when he knew he had a destination and people were expecting him, did he go to Alyx’s chamber to escort her to the meal. But even as they sat down at one of the great feasting tables, awaiting food and entertainment, he couldn’t take his eyes from her.

  The young woman he could never have.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alyx was unaware of Torston’s thoughts as she waited with anticipation for the presentation. Had she known, she would have certainly paid attention to him instead. Perhaps she would have even drawn him out. Gone was her anger and irritation with him from earlier in the day; by the time he arrived to escort her to supper, it was all but forgotten. She was even about to tell him so but a loud clang suddenly pierced the smoke of the hall, a massive set of crude cymbals striking heavily, and she was attuned to the coming attraction rather than the wistful look in Torston’s eyes.

  Alyx watched as a group of dancers raced into the hall, wriggling and gyrating to a pulsing beat. They wore exotic animal skins around their bodies, strategically covering their personal areas, and a fringe of dried leaves encircled their heads. From the tops of their dark hair to the bottom of their feet, they were as black as night with beautiful ebony skin. Alyx observed with fascination as they paraded about, doing flips and other feats of athletic prowess.

  They men were fantastically agile. They spun about on their shoulders and stood on their hands as the women chanted to the beat of the drum, a strange language that was both warm and disorienting. One man did a flip and landed near Alyx, smiling broadly at her as he returned to his colleagues. Alyx couldn’t help but grin in return, caught up in their wondrous, chaotic performance.

  “Do you like them?”

  It was Torston, his voice a heated whisper. Alyx nodded her head emphatically.

  “Absolutely,” she said. “Where are they from?”

  “Nubia.” Torston’s eyes followed the dancers. “Look at Harringham; he is like a child with a new toy. I have a feeling we are going to see this performance nightly for some time to come.”

  Alyx looked over at Lionel, in the center of the table, as the man clapped with glee. Her attention returned to the entertainers, captivated.

  “I don’t blame him,” she said, studying one man as he danced close to the table. “Their skin is so dark, like coal. I’ve never seen a man with such dark skin before.”

  Torston nodded faintly, watching the same man that Alyx was. “Nor have I, but they are smart and friendly. And very odd.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mean it in the conventional sense. In fact, I mean that they are most unconventional. Traveling the continent as I have, I have seen men of many colors and languages, but black-skinned men intrigue me the most. Their culture is fascinating.”

  Alyx looked at him. “You will have to tell me about it sometime,” she said. “I am glad Lord Lionel has purchased their services for a time. I should like to inspect them more closely before they move on.”

  Torston opened his mouth but the music stopped and everyone clapped loudly. As the dancers dashed away, the music of the flute and lyre was there to take their place and dancing women with veils made an appearance.

  “Will the dancers perform again tonight?”

  Torston nodded. “Aye, they will. They’ll be lucky if Harringham doesn’t demand they dance until dawn.”

&nb
sp; Alyx was about to reply when Harringham’s voice interrupted. “What did you think of my dancers, Lady Alyx?”

  She turned to Lionel, her face aglow. “Marvelous, Great Caesar,” she said enthusiastically. “I am looking forward to their next performance.”

  Harringham was pleased with her response. “Then I shall order them to dance until the last one drops dead. And then, I shall simply purchase more to entertain us.”

  Alyx’s smile faded. “Purchase more? Whatever do you mean, Great One?”

  Harringham shrugged, rather carelessly. “Why, slaves, of course. Every Caesar has thousands of them.”

  Alyx stared at him. “Slaves?”

  “Pets, lovely lady.”

  She didn’t like that inference at all. “But… Great Caesar, they are people like you and me, are they not?”

  Lionel’s manner hardened. “They are my pets, to do with as I please.” He suddenly clapped his hands loudly. A stream of tunic-clad servants appeared from the kitchens, burdened with huge plates of steaming food. As the music continued and the veiled dancers flailed about, great platters of delicacies were placed before the diners.

  Harringham delved into his saffron-dyed clams with gusto. For such a skinny man, he ate like a horse. Alyx watched him, still lingering on their conversation and wondering how it was a man could consider another flesh-and-blood human to be a pet. Slavery was one thing, as disgusting as it was, but to view people as pets was entirely another.

  “Eat up, Pidgy,” Torston said softly.

  Alyx glanced at him, realizing he was offering her a juicy slab of meat. She regarded him a moment as the meat glistened between his fingers.

  “Are these people less than us, Torston?”

  Torston’s gentle expression faded. “They are not,” he said. “They are flesh and blood, just as we are. But Harringham insists they are his property, as it were. All Caesars had people that belonged to them and he is simply following that course. I told you that he purchased them.”

  “But I thought you meant he had paid them to perform.”

  Torston shook his head, gently easing the food into her mouth. As Alyx chewed slowly, he watched her delicate features.

  “I never said that,” he said quietly. “When I said he had purchased them, I meant it literally.”

  “As one would purchase a stallion or sheep?”

  “Exactly.”

  Alyx swallowed. “But they are people. You said so yourself.”

  “That is true, but men can be bought and sold for a price.”

  “And Harringham paid the price?”

  “He did. That is what a Caesar would do, after all.”

  “Something is not right about this, Torston. I do not think I like it.”

  Torston cast her a long glance, swallowing the food in his mouth. “Always out to right the world, aren’t you?” He shook his head slowly, but there was warmth in his eyes. “You don’t think like normal woman, Alyx. You never have. You have your opinions on things.”

  This time, she averted her gaze and took another small morsel of meat. “If you mean I don’t content myself with the conventional way of thinking, then you are correct,” she said quietly. “There is more to this life than the world around us. More to think of than customary thoughts. And thinking of another human being as a pet simply is not… well, it is not right.”

  He snorted softly. “You’re so young. When you grow older, you’ll realize that the world doesn’t need changing and conventional thoughts are what makes it work as smoothly as it does.”

  “The world is in turmoil, Torston.”

  “Not really. Not when you consider how it used to be.”

  “And how is that? When Romans were intent to conquer the world, destroying everything in their path? Now there’s true turmoil, I suppose.”

  Torston glanced at Harringham, knowing the man could not have heard her but, somehow, he would not have been surprised if he had suddenly developed a talent for reading lips. When speaking of Harringham’s beloved Rome, there was no limit to the man’s intuition.

  “You’re young,” he repeated softly. “But to ease your mind, know that I will not permit Harringham to keep these people as one would keep pets. I will send them on their way when Harringham grows tired of them and they shall have their freedom. Do not think for one moment I would allow Harringham to truly keep men, of any color or race, in bondage. To do so is immoral.”

  She took another bite of the greasy, sauced meat. “I did not think you would allow it, for you are a man of honor.” She licked her fingers with relish, eyeing him as she did so. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the topic of Harringham and his ideals of Roman enslavement, so she decided to take pity on him. “Do you think we could sail to this Nubia, Torston?”

  He was chewing on a hunk of bread, well aware that she was changing the subject. Frankly, he was grateful. Harringham’s barbaric views were difficult for him to defend at times. “Nay, I do not,” he said. “Too expensive and too uncertain. I doubt we’d make it.”

  “But the dancers made their way well enough to find England.” She collected her chalice with a dramatic sigh. “Mayhap they are simply smarter than us, Torston. Mayhap they have really come to conquer our country, only no one would suspect them because they believe them to be barbarians.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “You would probably help them, wouldn’t you?”

  “Anything for excitement.”

  He laughed again. “You’re terrifying when you talk like that.” He shoved a bowl at her and she peered at it cautiously. “This is the only excitement you should be seeking, my lady. Frog legs in a port wine and honey sauce.”

  She curled her lip. “I hate frog legs. And I hate port wine.”

  “If you are going to sail the world someday, then you had better become accustomed to peculiar food.”

  She watched him take a thin leg from the bowl and devour it in one swallow. “What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten, Torston?”

  He thought a moment. “Something I dare not speak of.”

  “Why?” she demanded. “Tell me!”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Very well, you sadistic woman. I’ve eaten sheep’s stomach filled with bloody entrails. The Scots consider it a delicacy.”

  Alyx stuck her tongue out in disgust. “I have heard of such a dish. No wonder the Scots are such barbarians. And you say that this is the strangest thing you’ve ever sampled?”

  “It was certainly the most interesting.”

  She sat back on her couch, watching him as he finished his meal. A smile crept over her lips. “I want to eat what they eat in Sicily. In Constantinople. In Tyre. And I’m going to, too.”

  He grinned at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know. You’ve told me.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  Torston drained his wine and gestured for more. “I believe you.”

  “That is because you’re going to take me to all the places you’ve ever been. And more.”

  He snorted. “Harringham has sent me all over the damned continent in search of items to complete his Roman palace,” he said, taking a long drink of his wine. “I doubt there are many places I haven’t yet been.”

  “Tell me of your travels again, Torston.”

  “Not again.”

  “Please?”

  He shook his head with regret. “Alyx, it’s my fault you dream of traveling the world. Had I not filled your head with stories since you were young, you wouldn’t be so eager to leave the comfort and safety of your home. I’m to blame for your unorthodox thoughts, truly. I am surprised your father hasn’t run me through by now.”

  Alyx’s eyes glittered in the smoky glare of the candles. “Then if you are to blame for my aspirations, surely you should be the one to indulge them.”

  Suddenly, he was sitting too close to her on the bench. The heat of her body permeated him like a roaring blaze and as he gazed into her sky-blue eyes, he realized he wa
s sweating profusely. And her lips, so inviting and rosy, called to him loudly.

  It was a struggle not to answer.

  Torston knew he’d had too much wine. His brow was peppered with sweat and his heart was beating in his ears, demanding he give in to the emotions Alyx so capably provoked. Rising unsteadily from the couch, he watched Alyx’s expression shift from one of seduction to that of concern.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He didn’t know. But he knew he had to get away from her before he did something only in hindsight would he regret.

  “I’ve rounds to attend to,” he muttered.

  His broadsword was on the floor next to the bench and he collected it, sheathing it against his thigh, but Alyx leapt to her feet, stopping him.

  “Give the duty to someone else,” she said. “I want you to stay with me. Please?”

  Torston was struggling to form a denial but Alyx would not hear of it. It was amazing how a man who could fight off hordes of Scots with such strength was suddenly powerless within the grip of one small lady. He knew very well he should isolate himself until these alcohol-enhanced emotions passed, but he couldn’t seem to get his feet moving properly. Torston could feel himself weaken as Alyx smiled encouragingly and wrapped her slender fingers around his arm.

  “Please sit down,” she purred and he could hardly resist. “I want to hear of your trip to Venice again.”

  “You’ve already heard it a dozen times.”

  He was back on the bench and she was beside him, her beautiful face upturned and eager.

  “It grows more exciting each time,” she said.

  Those rosy lips beckoned him again and, this time, he had to close his eyes against their power. Were he to continue to stare at them, he would not be strong enough to resist the temptation.

  It was like fighting a raging fire with a tiny cup of water.

  “Where should I begin?” His tone was laced with resignation.

  “When you fought the bandits in Normandy!”

  “You know the story better than I do. Let’s hear you tell it.”

  She pouted. “Please, Torston?”