by Amy Jarecki
She maintained the pressure but turned to face him. “I proved me innocence to his lordship, but ye best not speak of it. If ye can sit up, find me another shirt and bandages so we can take him back to Vindolanda.”
Alerio sat up, but held his head. “The world is spinning.”
“Quickly. We cannot tarry long.”
Once he was moving, Alerio gathered the things Elspeth requested. She peered under her makeshift bandage. Thank the stars, the bleeding had slowed. “Now fetch his horse—and yers.”
“Mine…is…dead.” By his slow speech, the lad seemed stunned.
Elspeth surveyed the site. Tessie grazed beside Petronius and another gelding. “There’s three horses over yonder. Ye can ride the gelding. Now hurry.”
Alerio moved slowly, but he readied the horses while Elspeth bound Titus’s wound. She slipped the orange tunic over her head, scrunching her nose at the pall of a sweaty man. “We’ll put the centurion on me mare, but I’ll need yer help.”
Elspeth reached for Tessie’s rein and raised her hand above the horse’s head. She stared into the Tessie’s eye and pulled down on the bridle while lowering her hand. Her gaze remained unblinking while the horse lay down. “Roll him over the horse.”
Grunting, Alerio strained to shove Titus onto the horse. The big centurion was askew, but at least he was on.
“Now hold him in place while Tessie stands.” Elspeth prayed her mare’s movement would be smooth. Hopefully they would not start the horrible wound bleeding again. The mare tucked her hooves under her body and stood. Titus slid aside, but Alerio stayed with him, red in the face.
“Ye did well.” Elspeth worked to tie Titus on, resting his torso forward against the horse’s neck with his legs either side. She stooped over a dead archer and removed his quiver of arrows.
Alerio stared.
She flicked her wrist at him. “Find food and more bandages, then we’ll ride.” They would not be able to go far, but she could get them away from the carnage.
****
Riding Petronius, Elspeth led them north to the forest that lay between York and Vindolanda and ensured they traveled deep into the woods. She pulled Tessie alongside her and frequently glanced at Titus. She could see the chainmail on his back heave with shallow breaths. Each time it went up, a relieved whistle passed her lips.
Alerio rode behind them without saying a word. Elspeth had turned to check him a few times and imagined his head was sore. “Have ye been in many battles?”
“Yes…well, the campaign to reclaim Britannia was my first.”
“Are ye from Rome then?”
“No. Hispania. Bacchus recruited me as an auxiliary there.”
Ahead, a faint trickling of water gave her a spark of hope and drove the horses toward it. The running water grew louder until the horses splashed into a burn. Elspeth led them along the bank a mile or so. When they came to an outcropping of massive stones, she reined Petronius to a stop and patted his neck.
She dismounted and handed her reins to Alerio. “Hold me horse while I check this place.” She climbed over the rocks and found what she was looking for. In another time, the burn must have been a raging river and had carved out a hollow in the stone. She stooped to look inside. It went back about ten feet and was nearly as wide. It would suffice as shelter until Titus was fit to ride.
She made a bed of leaves and threshes and had Alerio help her get Titus settled. Sliding him off Tessie was easy enough, but the two of them together could barely drag him a few inches. Elspeth removed his cloak and laid it on the ground beside him. “Help me roll him onto it.”
Alerio did as requested. They grasped the edges and heaved Titus the remaining distance to the cave. Once he was settled upon the bed, Elspeth barked another command, “Go cover our tracks. I do not want any spies following us.”
“Yes, sir,” he said dumbly and headed out.
With enough space to sit, but not to stand, Elspeth unfastened Titus’s medal harness and struggled to wrench the chainmail over his head. Carefully, she untied the laces that bound his leather doublet, removed it and cast it aside. Titus’s chest heaved, sucking in air with the release of the constricting garments.
Elspeth removed his tunic and inspected the wound. Blood oozed from under the dressing. She grasped the edge of the bandage and hesitated, reciting a silent prayer that the wound had closed. Slowly, she pulled it away. Blood gushed out just as before.
Elspeth quickly reapplied the dressing and shoved her hands down. Hard. Blood seeped through her fingers. She must act quickly. She tore a strip of cloth from the hem of Titus’s tunic and tied the bandage tight. The bleeding slowed—a bit.
Finding the flint in Titus’s saddlebags, Elspeth pushed some leaves and twigs together and started a fire just outside the entrance of the cave. She snatched up a few dry branches and had a crackling fire raging before Alerio returned from backtracking. Elspeth drew Titus’s sword from its scabbard.
She piled more wood on the fire and set the tip of the sword in the flame, applying pressure to the bandage while she waited. Watching his sleeping face, she thanked God Titus was unconscious.
Alerio popped his head in. “Backtracking is done.”
“Good. Go see if ye can find us something to eat.”
His feet stammered and he bent down again. “Why do I have to do everything?”
She nodded toward the fire. “Would ye prefer to cauterize his wound whilst I set a snare?”
Understanding crossed Alerio’s face. “Apologies.” He looked at Elspeth’s blood-soaked fingers. “I’ll set the trap.”
“Ta.” Elspeth couldn’t quite form the words thank ye.
When the tip of the sword glowed red, she pulled it from the flame. The low ceiling to the cave prevented her from standing over Titus. She crouched and kneeled, leveraging the short sword in place above his bleeding gash.
“Forgive me.” Gritting her teeth, Elspeth pulled away the cloth and plunged the red-hot iron and rolled it around his exposed flesh. Titus’s body arced and a deep grunt whooshed from his lungs. Smoke filled with the stench of burning flesh wafted through the cave. Elspeth pulled the sword away and gaped at his face. His eyes opened and rolled back. All she could see was white.
She cast the weapon aside and cupped his face. “Titus!” She shook him. “Titus, stay with me!” Elspeth trembled as she bent down and touched her cheek to his nose. A faint breath caressed her cheek. With a ragged exhale, the tension in her shoulders eased a bit. She glanced back at his face. Titus had closed his eyes, now breathing a steady rhythm.
She moved back to his wound. The bleeding had stopped. She collapsed beside him. Tears stung her eyes. Please live, Titus. I do not know what I’d do without ye.
Crickets had started their nightly concert when Alerio poked his head into the cave and held up a rabbit. “Are you hungry?”
****
Darkness shrouded the camp when the meat was ready. Elspeth and Alerio devoured the rabbit as if neither had eaten for weeks. She reached for Titus’s skin of wine and took a swig. Grimacing, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and passed it to Alerio. “Drink. It will help ye sleep.”
He grasped the skin and grinned. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Nay.” She pointed her thumb back at Titus. “Usually ’tis him or me brother giving me orders… Apologies if I was a bit overbearing. I feared the centurion was not going to make it.”
“You like him, do you not?”
“Aye.” She wanted to tell him that they were going to wed, but such a bold announcement was best left unspoken. Titus should be the one to reveal their plans. Besides, it could be days before he woke. Elspeth hugged herself. If he wakes.
“You said you were a Pict, er…why…” Alerio gaped at her with a blush spreading across his cheeks.
“Why what?”
“Why do the men tattoo their faces and bodies?”
“To put fear in the likes of ye.” Elspeth sniggered. “Nay, ’tis their sign—it shows their h
eritage—a rite of passage when boys become men.”
“But then they cannot ever hide their identity.”
“Why would they want to do that? Picts are a proud race.”
Alerio shrugged. “You hid your identity by dressing as a man.”
Elspeth pursed her lips and took another drink of sour wine. “I suppose I did.”
They shared the drink while staring into the fire. “What’s it like?” Alerio asked.
“What?”
“The land beyond the wall.”
“Beautiful.” Elspeth sighed. “The further north ye travel, the colder it gets. The chill makes us tough, but it is our land, and the people fiercely defend it. Every Pict lives by the creed of honor, loyalty, duty and freedom.”
“Sounds like Roman values.”
Elspeth thwacked him on the shoulder. “’Tis not. We keep no slaves. Most Picts would never dishonor their families by stabbing his comrade in the back as Dulcitius did to Titus.”
He formed an O with his lips. “The Picts are perfect, then?”
She thrust her nose skyward. “’Tis a life I would never give up.”
When they had drunk the skin of wine dry, they slid back into the cave to sleep, Elspeth on Titus’s right and Alerio on his left. Elspeth liked the boy and thanked heavens he had been the one to survive and not some old swindler whom she could not trust.
Heavy lidded, she watched Titus’s chest rise and fall in the shadows that were cast by the moonlight. She placed her hand on it and vowed to wake if the motion stopped.
Chapter Twenty
Sweat streamed from her brow. Elspeth sat up with a jolt. Cool air encircled her body, but her hand on Titus’s chest burned. He has the fever.
A shiver crawled up her spine. She would not, could not lose him now. The next day would be the most critical for him. Elspeth snatched Titus’s tunic in one hand and his wineskin in the other and climbed out from under the rock. The pink-orange glow of dawn peeked through the trees as she soaked the tunic in the burn and filled the bladder.
From the cave entrance, gleaming sweat on his body shone a sickly gray in the shadows. Alerio still slumbered. Elspeth kneeled beside Titus and spread the cold tunic over his body. Titus instantly reacted with shivers and chattering teeth. She wanted to pull the tunic away, but it must do its job to lower his fever. She poured some water into her cupped palm and dribbled it into his mouth. She watched his Adam’s apple move as the liquid slid down his throat.
Alerio stretched and opened his eyes. “How is he?”
Elspeth could have hit the boy—not because of his question, but because she needed to hit something. She settled for slamming her fist into the sandy earth beside her. “He’s got the fever.”
Alerio ran a finger across the wet tunic as if touching it might make him sick. “Do you think he will survive?”
Elspeth rose up to her knees and leaned across Titus. “Do not even ask that. ’Tis a curse to let those words pass yer lips.” She darted out of the cave, spun three times and spat over her shoulder. “Be gone ye evil curse!”
“Apologies. I will not say it again.” Alerio poked his head out. “Do you know how to tend him?”
“There is no’ much we can do but fight the fever with cool wraps, but they make him shiver like leaf blowing in the wind.” Elspeth plopped onto her bottom, and her shoulders slumped. “It frightens me.” She scooted in and poured more water into her palm, then dribbled it into Titus’s mouth.
“It looks like you’re doing the right things.” Alerio’s voice broke as if he weren’t convinced.
Elspeth glanced back at the boy. He had not a line on his face. He seemed young for a Roman legionary, yet he’d marched into Vindolanda with the rest of them. She hated the fact she found him endearing—in a brotherly way. The Picts had taught her to detest Romans. She again filled her palm with water and wiped it across Titus’s forehead.
Perhaps it was what Romans represented that her people hated. The occupation, their slave trading—the way Dulcitius treated people—that’s what she’d expected. Possibly there were enough men like Dulcitius throughout the empire to plant hatred in the hearts of her kin.
But then there are men like Titus… Maybe Alerio is as kind-hearted as Titus. Could there be enough men like him among Romans too? She frowned. Elspeth didn’t care for doubt. She preferred good or bad, white or black, rather than uncertainty.
She and Titus had talked about marriage, but not about where they would live, or whose creed they would live by. She naturally assumed he would settle in Gododdin. What if Titus wanted to stay south of Hadrian’s Wall? Then again, Titus would have a difficult time finding his way into the hearts of her kinfolk.
She drizzled more water over his forehead. Was a marriage between them even possible? She had initially thought yes. After all, Taran had married Valeria—but she was a woman, not a soldier of Rome.
“I’ll check the snares I set last night.” Alerio scooted out of the cave and then bent down and poked his head back in. “Perhaps I should ride for help.”
“Where?” she asked. “’Tis clear Dulcitius has spies in every corner of Britannia.”
“I would return to my century in Vindolanda. I can trust the soldiers loyal to Titus.”
“The trip there and back would take a week or more.”
“Yes, but as you said, Dulcitius has spies lurking everywhere.”
Elspeth was not convinced. It may only be a couple of days and the centurion’s fever could break. “What would Titus want you to do?”
“He would tell me to get word to Theodosius any way I could. He would tell me he merely had a flesh wound and would be back on his feet in a week.”
Elspeth covered her mouth with her palm. “Is it too late to reach the count?”
“I know not, but I could get my throat cut if I rode south.” He kneeled down and rubbed his neck. “We could send a missive from Houseteads to Arbeia. A ship could sail from there. It would have a greater chance of meeting up with Theodosius that way—they could follow him to Rome if need be.”
She hated the thought of being left to care for Titus alone for so long, but if Alerio stayed and Titus grew worse… She couldn’t even think on it. “Kill us a deer and go. That’ll yield enough meat for a week. Bring back men to help as soon as ye can.” She glanced at Titus and bit her lip. “When he wakes, he will want to take action straight away.” She picked up a piece of chalkstone. “If ye have not returned, I’ll draw an arrow on the ceiling of the cave. That will tell you where we are going.”
****
Alerio rode out that afternoon. He’d killed and skinned a small mule deer. Elspeth had cut and dried strips for travel and spun the hindquarters over a makeshift spit. Titus had not roused during the day, though she continued to pour water down his gullet. Now that she had some meat, she would make broth and see if she could get him to take it.
She refused to wander more than a few paces from the cave, but stepped out to check on the horses. They were still hobbled with plenty of vegetation in the surrounding woods. They should be fine as long as nothing spooked them. Elspeth ran her hand along Tessie’s back. “’Tis dangerous for us to tarry long.”
Petronius ambled up and nudged her with his nose. She scratched him behind the ears and ran her hand down his mane. “I’ve no oats to feed ye, boy.” The horse nickered and sniffed the ground. Elspeth looked up and watched the wisps of clouds sail past. With a heavy inhale, she shrugged off her doubts. They should be safe—well hidden deep in the forest until Titus recovered. He will recover. I vow I will see to it.
With renewed determination, Elspeth headed back to the cave. She did not care how long it took, she would nurse him back to health. If they were still there when Alerio returned, the lad would bring medicine and food. She just had to keep Titus alive.
Titus seemed the most restless at night. Elspeth lay beside him when his fist swung to the side as if he dreamed he was in a great fight. He sat up, roaring a battle cry.
Elspeth scooted aside while he thrashed his arms, swinging his sword and shield. Trembling, she slipped out of the cave and lit a torch in the embers of the smoldering fire.
His eyes were open, but vacant. “Titus.” She spoke his name softly, but his body continued to fight.
“I shall cut you down…” Sweat streamed down from his temples. His voice cracked as he continued to roar, some words perceptible, most not.
Ducking into the cave, Elspeth lunged forward, shoving him down with both hands. He threw her aside, shocking her with his brute strength. She cried out in pain as her back slammed into the stony ceiling. Pressing her hand against the pain, she rolled to her knees.
Titus crouched, his head grazing the rock above. A trickle of blood streamed from his temple. His eyes bore through her like a stalking predator.
Elspeth clenched her fists. “Titus. Lie down.” She kept her voice calm.
Titus launched at her, his hands wrapped around her throat. Elspeth’s head hit a rock and she fought to focus. Writhing beneath him, she tugged at his fingers, but they pressed in with inhuman strength. Unable to breathe, she blinked at the sparks of light shooting through her vision like stars. She flung her arm to the side and found a rock. She didn’t want to hurt him. Her fingers closed around it and she swung, hitting him in the shoulder.
Titus collapsed upon her. His deep breaths pushed against Elspeth’s gut. He lived. She purposely avoided hitting his head, but this bout of delirium ended with only seconds to spare. Elspeth wiggled out from under him and rolled Titus to his back.
“Ye bleeding mad-headed bull, ye’re not going to kill me too.” She picked up the tunic and headed to the burn. She crouched beside the water, rinsed her hands, and then splashed the tears from her face. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed a handful of sand. Tears slid down her cheek while she drank. He’d nearly killed her. How much longer would he be like this?
On the fourth day, buzzards appeared, circling above the camp. Elspeth dashed out of the cave and threw rocks at them. “Ye cannot have him! He is mine, and I will snatch any one of ye varmints who dares to come near and tear yer bird-brained head off with me teeth.”
