For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1)

by Anne Garboczi

  The weak winter sun lit Ness’ entrance into the garrison house. Relaxing her bone-weary arms, she slid Eric and Wryn to the floor. Shaking snow off her cloak and trying not to think of yesterday, or today, or anything but sleep, Ness cut through the main room.

  Aquilus stood at his shelves again, sorting through scrolls. He ran his finger down rows and lines and lighted on one. He pulled it out.

  She turned her head away. Her foot snagged and she tripped over the couch leg.

  Aquilus rotated. In a stride, he caught her hand, steadying her. “You’re back.” He smiled at her.

  His skin scorched her hand. She looked into his eyes. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  “I missed you.” Raising his other hand, he pushed back her snow-sodden locks. His finger trailed a line of fire across her cheek and down her neck.

  He’d greeted her the same way that first year at the end of each of his journeys. Her blood pulsed as emotions churned inside her. “I didn’t miss you.” She tore away and collapsed on the couch. The soft feel of cushions surrounded her and she sank into their ocean as the waves of exhaustion rolled over her. She welcomed sleep. At least when she slept she didn’t have to think.

  “Do you always have to be so hateful?” He kicked the table leg as he walked back to his shelves.

  See, he’d rejoice to see her gone. She did him a favor getting this divorce. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her head into the cushions. Sleep washed over her in wave after wave.

  “Do you know where this came from?” Aquilus’ voice sounded far away.

  Pushing herself above the waves of sleep, she pried one eyelid open.

  He held up a scroll.

  Ness lifted scratchy eyelids to peer toward the blurred image. In one heartbeat, she jerked wide awake. “You don’t want to read that.” She jumped for the thing.

  Aquilus stepped back, out of reach. With a curious look at her, he unwound the parchment.

  She pressed against the plaster wall. The painting of myrtle branches on the plaster felt cold. The wind whistled through a crack in the window’s shutters.

  He moved his gaze down the lines. Halfway down the parchment, his whole face changed.

  “What is this?” Aquilus’ voice resembled bellowing more than stoic calm.

  “Divorce papers I had drawn up.” Breath shallow, Ness twisted her fingers against each other.

  “I already told you I’m not divorcing you.”

  She nodded and sat down on the couch. Though the well of softness beckoned her, now her pulse raced much too fast for rest. “I’m having your third child, so I’m free of in manus.” Even in a whisper, her voice trembled.

  Aquilus froze. A look of betrayal swam in his eyes, like the deer one wounds in the hunt. “You truly want to divorce me?”

  Gaze on him, Ness swallowed. He stood stiff, his dark skin even darker now contrasted with the Celtic snow that howled outdoors. She could stay. She fingered the couch’s red fringe. He deserved to be divorced just for the adoption gambol, but she was fairly certain he wouldn’t try that again.

  Ness yanked her hand away from the couch. The man didn’t even like her and found every opportunity to express his distaste for her opinions and her culture. Aquilus always put Rome first. What had Cornelia said? Paterculis grow up to be soldiers. Not her sons. “Yes, I’m going to divorce you.”

  Aquilus dropped the parchment like hot coals. All softness dropped with it. “So, not a visit to your family, but a rendezvous with that barbarian?”

  Ness pushed herself up on her elbow. “I wouldn’t leave you because I liked someone else better. I’d only leave you because I truly detest you.”

  His jaw moved down like a sword slash. “I’m awed by your virtue.”

  Ness grimaced. Why hadn’t he just signed the divorce papers if he hated her thus?

  “When do I receive the pleasure of having these divorce papers officially served?”

  Ness tried to make her muddled wits count days and weeks, but it refused. Unbidden, the dream image of clasped hands seared across her wits, but she forced her shoulders into a shrug. “When I’m ready.”

  “You expect to live here, have me provide for you as husband, and then up and leave when you’re ready?” Aquilus drew dark eyebrows down into a hard line.

  If he meant to inspire guilt, he’d picked the wrong woman. “I’m having your third child. I think that’s the least you owe me.” Ness used the last flash her eyes had left in them.

  Aquilus’ lips formed words he didn’t utter. He clenched his hands into fists as he spun away.

  As he passed under the entranceway, he turned back for just one moment. His shoulders filled the doorway. “If you think that barbarian will tolerate what I have for the last three years, you’re insane.”

  Chapter 25

  Ness tugged her cloak off its hook. A month had passed and now she needed to fulfill her promise to Enni. She sighed and knelt to wrap the twins in Celtic wool. The wind howled outside, bringing with it the smell of snow. This was a real winter, a Britain winter.

  Cornelia bumbled into the room, hearth brush in hand. “You’re taking the boys out in this weather?”

  Ness nodded and swaddled Eric’s cloak tighter.

  “You’re moonstruck, woman. Leave them with me.” Cornelia gave the hearth one wobbling brushstroke.

  Heat from the fireplace beat Ness’ cheeks. “I’m going to my village overnight. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not. You never let me get my hands on them. I know. I know. Proper naps, proper lullabies, nothing dangerous.”

  Ness slowly dropped her hands from the boys. “I’m trusting you.” Never in the last two years had she’d spent a night away from her children.

  With a shrug, Cornelia let the broom flop forward. “Their father will be around too.”

  Ness’ heart pinched. Since Aquilus had found those divorce papers he hadn’t been around much, except for spending some days with the twins. He’d grown overly comfortable with those two, even took them into town without asking her. A year ago she would have wanted that. She ran her fingers over Wryn’s silky hair. His eyes had the darkness of Mediterranean shores. A pounding started behind her eyes.

  Ness clenched her jaw. Since Aquilus had been willing to sell his own sons for profit, she refused to feel guilty for taking them away from him.

  Less than three months until the divorce.

  Snow filtered through bare branches, painting the trail white. Head lowered, Ness urged the mare on. The metal of her knife felt cold as the leg sheath rubbed against her skin. She had considered taking guards, but who knew if Aquilus would even let her take them considering his current mood.

  Given his insult last month about a barbarian lover, Aquilus might deny her the opportunity to go to her village all together. Besides, she couldn’t handle dealing with her village and Aquilus on the same day. She dug her teeth so hard into her chapped lip that she tasted blood. Only Aquilus could twist words into sarcasm so bitter one could feel the words slice against one’s skin.

  A chill wind blew along the trail, making a low whistle. Up ahead, a deer lurched across the path, followed by another. What had spooked them?

  Ness’ horse reared. She grasped for the saddle horn. Her cloak flew back. Cold snow stung her face.

  Hoofbeats pounded toward her. Snatches of plaid and the glint of iron penetrated the snowy fog. Men appeared from either side of the trail. They surrounded her. A big Celt strode through the mist and ripped her reins away. Ness dug her heels into her horse. The steed reared, throwing the man off his feet.

  Another horse plunged out of the brush crossways, blocking her path. Her horse attempted to run, but the big Celt’s body dragged it down.

  Tearing at the reins, Ness tried to wheel the steed around, but milling horses penned her in.

  Ness kicked wildly at the horse. “Let me pass!” The snow caught in her throat as she screamed. No passing stranger answered the call.

&n
bsp; Fear dug at her heart.

  A sparse Roman man grabbed her elbow. She dug her foot into the Roman’s ribs.

  The sparse man fell to the ground. Blood rushed to Ness’ head as she screamed again. She counted nine other men through the snowy fog and rearing horses. She scrambled for her knife.

  The big Celt leaped up and grabbed her leg. She brought the bone of her arm down across the soft spots of his face.

  He swore in Germanic-Celtic and tore at her hair. Ness felt herself falling. Hands extended, she tried to protect her distended stomach.

  Her body hit the ground and churning hooves kicked snow into her face.

  The Germanian dug his fingers into her arm, yanking her to her feet.

  Clawing for her knife, Ness brought her knee up into him.

  He winced and cuffed her across the face. She tasted blood as he jerked her hands behind her back.

  Her cloak fell away and icy sleet tore across her dress. She kicked back against his shins.

  “Peace, woman. You’ll walk away alive in a day or two if you keep a civil tongue in your head.”

  “Do you mean to ransom me then?” Ness forced her teeth not to chatter.

  The Germanian grabbed a rope and looped it around her wrists.

  She screamed again and jerked sideways, tearing at his grip. Eric and Wryn’s faces flashed across her wits.

  Someone grabbed Ness’ horse and the whole group moved toward the woods. The big Celt kicked her forward and, hands tied behind her back, she jumped to avoid falling on the babe.

  The Roman stood next to her now, ink staining the man’s bare hands. “This ambush better work,” he muttered in Latin. “I was supposed to catch the man in Germania and if I don’t kill him here, I’m dead.”

  Her breath came in ragged gasps. She forced her hands flat against her dress. The Celt had said they wouldn’t kill her. Outlaws usually kidnapped for ransom. If she kept her mouth shut and cooperated they’d free her within a day or two in exchange for coin.

  Wait, an ambush? Did they plan to use her to capture Aquilus? “What man?” She shrieked above the piercing wind.

  The Germanian tore her cloak. Ness gagged as he stuffed the fabric into her mouth, his big hands digging into her cheeks. She ground her teeth into cloth as she struggled against the rope binding her hands. They meant to use her to set an ambush for Aquilus.

  Would these outlaws kill him or ransom him? The spare man had said kill. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She should have asked Aquilus for guards.

  Just breathe, she told herself as panic rose inside her. They couldn’t kill Aquilus.

  The Germanian tore another strip of fabric and tied it over her eyes, tearing at her hair as he did. Desperation swept over her.

  Ness shifted her leg to feel if the knife had fallen out in the struggle. Still there. She’d not stay and await ransom if they meant to use her presence to kill Aquilus. No, tonight she’d use her knife, escape, and make her way back to Camulodunum to warn him.

  What if they killed her when she attempted to flee? Her blood pulsed through her cold throat, choking her. She’d just have to not get caught.

  The wind burned her cheeks as the Germanian propelled her ever forward through the vast woods.

  Once again, Aquilus counted the line of barrels remaining on the dock—463. Legate Vocula had wasted seven weeks already. Aquilus kicked a crate and looked at the boat. Why did they ship grain and wool, Germanian staples, to Germania? Vocula had told him no more than if he were a dim-witted decurion.

  The bell rang. Half an hour to consume large quantities of tasteless oatmeal with only one virtue, heat. Legionaries threw boxes to the wind and streamed toward cooking fires.

  Aquilus seized an abandoned box and headed for the ship’s hull. Back bent into the work, he piled another crate on top.

  A month had passed since he’d seen those divorce papers and she’d had no change of heart. Ness truly would divorce him. He slammed the crates into a pile. Dust rose as he kicked boxes into rows in the darkness of the hull. As inane as this project proved to be, it was less so than sharing a house with a woman who planned on divorcing him as soon as she’d earned the legal right.

  Grabbing a waist-high box in two hands, Aquilus levered it up. He was probably the first patrician ever to be divorced by a non-citizen.

  Well, she needn’t expect him to weep over it. Aquilus drove his foot into another box. He’d taken about all he could from her anyway. First, she refused to live in Germania with him, next, she left without notice, and need he mention trying to marry another man? Later, even after he’d taken her back, he’d endured her animosity, misconduct, and Rome throwing it in his face. Was behaving respectably enough that society didn’t label one a harlot such a difficult thing?

  Bilge smell assaulted Aquilus’ nostrils as he shoved a box underneath a makeshift shelf unit. Ness had attempted to ruin his life work. What kind of woman did that? The worst was he had loved her. Love, what did that even mean?

  She wasn’t a good mother, either. A divorce would make the children legally his and Ness still intended to sign. This barbarian rated higher in her priorities than her own children. He paused, hand on a crate. Perhaps she didn’t know the law?

  A surge of something he didn’t wish to feel struck at his heart. Aquilus glared at the boxes. No, not even Ness could be that blissfully ignorant.

  Regardless, he had no intention of letting his sons be raised by another man. He’d teach Eric and Wryn what it meant to be a Paterculi. If that displeased Ness, well she could live with her choices.

  “Tribune Paterculi,” a voice called.

  Aquilus stuck his head up the ladder.

  A squat decurion crouched to extend a wax tablet. “Decurion Originalus, sir. This is for you.”

  Grabbing the note, Aquilus scanned the scribbled words. Your wife, kidnapped, ransom. “What is this?”

  The decurion lifted broad shoulders in a shrug. “A youth delivered it several hours ago.”

  A surge of blood rushed through Aquilus’ veins. This couldn’t be true. Ness was at home, with their sons. “Did you hold the youth?”

  “I chose not to.” The decurion glared at the deck, unexplained resentment playing across his features.

  Sleet-covered mud sprayed up as Aquilus hit the dock at a sprint.

  “Where are you going?” the decurion called after him.

  “To Camulodunum,” Aquilus said over his shoulder.

  “What about the ship loading?”

  Aquilus groaned. “One doesn’t even have to know Latin to supervise that project.”

  Aquilus shoved the house door open. “Ness!” he called up the stairs and through the rooms. “Ness!”

  Cornelia poked her head out of a doorway, holding his sons.

  “Where’s Ness?”

  Cornelia bit her lip.

  “Answer me!”

  With painful slowness, Cornelia opened her bony jaw. “Didn’t she tell you?”

  Of course not. Ness never told him anything, not even that she’d leave for Britannia if he went to Germania one more time, or that she carried his child. He gripped his sword pommel. “Tell me what?”

  “She went to her village yesterday.”

  “Did she take guards?” Aquilus half-shouted.

  Cornelia raised her shoulders in a hesitant shrug.

  Ness hadn’t. That foolish, foolish woman. He felt the blood pounding in his temples. Cornelia began saying something, but he’d already sprinted out the door.

  Shoulder to shoulder, the forty soldiers formed a circle on the cobblestones. “The ransom note said to meet them here.” Aquilus planted his thumb on a patch of the map as his little army faced him in the open courtyard of the Camulodunum barracks. “They didn’t specify a ransom, so it’s obviously a trap.”

  “A trap? For what? Who wants you killed?” a centurion interrupted.

  An interesting, if pointless question. “I’m splitting you into four teams. Take the last five miles off
road. Abandon the horses if necessary to proceed unobserved.”

  Another centurion broke into the ring. “Sir, Vocula said he couldn’t spare any horses.”

  More trouble from Vocula? Aquilus glared. “I’ll buy you horses.” He jabbed his finger against the map. “We approach from four directions. We know the location of the emissary, but not the hostage.”

  “You mean your wife?” the centurion said.

  “Yes, my wife,” Aquilus growled. “Stay together and proceed with caution. Any questions?”

  The forty men looked at each other.

  “Then move.”

  Aquilus kicked his horse in the girth pushing him harder. If the horse died from overexertion, so be it. He’d told her to take guards. He’d told her criminals prowled these roads. What did she do? Flagrantly disregard his word. His wife, who soon would divorce him, wasn’t even going to be grateful when he rescued her. When, he swallowed hard, when, not if.

  Aquilus gripped the reins as he scanned the last section of road. One more mile until he cut across the woods. Ness had ridden here yesterday. In his mind’s eye, he saw the kidnappers come from the side of the road and spring on her. The blackguards! If they had harmed her….

  He dug his heels into the horse.

  An hour later, a grove of pine trees weighted down by snow appeared in front of them. Smoke rose from the grove to the low-lying clouds. The fog-filled wind carried the noise of horses tugging at their ties. On foot now, Aquilus gestured to the men behind him. No sign of the other three parties. They did this alone.

  They crouched low to the ground and crept underneath the evergreen boughs. In the grove, a group of blond Celts huddled around a fire, eating. Horses blocked the rest of the view, precluding any sight of prisoners.

  Aquilus sucked cold air into his lungs. One chance to take advantage of surprise so Ness didn’t get hurt. He sliced his hand down in the signal. No time even to think, they rushed forward as a collective unit.

  Celtic heads jerked up, hands falling to swords as they jolted to their feet. Roman blades rose faster. Aquilus tackled a big Celt standing guard over the fire. Iron clanked against iron. Confusion reigned.