“Report to centurion,” he ordered, and the two men sprinted away.
“Lady should have listened,” he whispered seriously in her ear and adroitly cut the rope from around her wrists. “Stubborn.”
Delia nodded in response and silently agreed.
Marius paced in his headquarters for an hour, waiting for the second to bring the woman to him. The news he received from Kuna’s messengers had done nothing to improve his mood, even though he was grateful Leonius had not harmed her. Marius had no idea what he was going to do. Waiting through the morning had calmed his anger and brought a semblance of reason back to him. He sat down in his chair and continued to think. Delia had committed treason for aiding in the escape of the prisoners. He cursed her again for not realizing the idiocy of what she had done. Treason was punishable by death, either beheading or crucifixion, and there was no way around that. The thought of losing her was becoming unbearable, and he realized his feelings were no longer his own. Delia had captivated him, steeping him in emotions and sensations he was unprepared to handle. Marius knew there would be no going back.
He slammed his fist against the table in frustration. He could not fight it; a first for Marius. He almost longed for a bloody battlefield; at least there, he knew where he stood. These foreign feelings were making him nervous. He had to fight to keep his body from exploding in fear, anger, despair, and a hundred other emotions coursing through him. Although knowing his duty had always helped in moral dilemmas, it did not help now. If anything, it made it worse. If he spared her, he would be betraying everything he had spent the last twenty-five years defending. It was all unraveling before him at a glance of that exquisite face. The situation was becoming intolerable.
The conflicts, coupled with the after affects of the poison, tied his intestines in knots, and he became nauseous again. No matter how hard he tried, he could not dislodge the image of Delia’s delicate green eyes staring at him from the axe man’s block.
When he heard shouts of the soldiers return, he sighed deeply and hardened his resolve. Marius would do what he had to…he always did.
C hapter Six
When they arrived at the camp, Kuna helped Delia off the horse, and Leonius pushed him aside. The second grabbed her arm tightly and forced her in front of him.
“Out of my way, slave,” he mumbled, digging his fingers into Delia’s arm.
Kuna took the reins of his horse, and a knowing sparkle entered his eyes in the late morning sunlight. He flexed his shoulders and stared at his commander.
Fear seemed to tug at Leonius’ face, and he turned away from Kuna. The second signaled to the soldiers and they pushed the four bound men before them. A tall, black soldier, who took care not to jar her, gave Glenys a reassuring smile and lifted her off the horse. Despite their precautions, her ankle had swollen to many times its own size and she lay quivering in his arms.
Delia tried to look back at her, but Leonius twisted her around mercilessly and yanked her forward.
She was terrified… but not of Leonius. The thought of seeing Marius again sent a numbing wave of dread through her. The fear made her weak when she imagined those dark, angry eyes boring into her. Her first impulse was to try to run, but, of course, she would never abandon her men or Glenys. Her duty bound her as tightly as the massive hand that was bruising her upper arm.
Once at the tent, the group stopped. Leonius frowned at the two guards standing outside and the young man who stood with them, his arms folded.
“Get out of my way, Aelius,” Leonius said holding his prize almost protectively. His nose flared, the pain glistening in his eyes when the whip marks rubbed against the tight armor. “I am bringing these prisoners before the centurion for sentencing. I want none of your nonsense.”
Aelius brought his hands to his sides and bowed his head deferentially. “Yes, sir. The centurion is waiting. However, he does not require your presence.”
Leonius hands unconsciously squeezed Delia’s arms until she cried out.
“No,” he hissed, glaring down at the smaller man. “He is not shutting me out of this. I am taking the little bitch queen to him personally. I want to hear him order her crucified. Get out of my way, Aelius!”
Aelius simply bowed his head. “As you wish, sir,” he said. “You may take it up with the centurion, of course.”
Without another word, Leonius pushed Delia past him, through the two guards, and into the darkened tent; followed closely by the other soldiers and their charges. Aelius entered behind them.
Marius coldly frowned at Leonius when he entered. He was sitting at the center of the table in his leather chair, his quartermaster to his left and the medico to his right. All three were in formal dress uniforms, and the centurion’s elaborate feathered helmet hung from one side of the chair back. Folding his hands tightly on the table, he frowned.
He would not look at Delia, and her heart sank.
“Bring her.” Marius’ attention remained fixed on the wax tablets in front of him.
Leonius forced her to stand in front of the table.When he released her arms, her knees nearly buckled when the centurion lifted his head, his angry eyes glaring. There was a kind of sadness in them and deep lines etched the sides of his mouth; the creases shadowing his face. Marius seemed pale, but she knew that was probably an after effect of the poison. Guilt riddled her heart. Her breath came in short, frightened spurts.
“Your Majesty.” That rich, compelling voice reached, with its quietude, right down to her core making her lips quiver. The curt nod he gave the two men, sitting with him, marked his displeasure. “My officers are here to witness these proceedings and verify that Roman law is followed precisely. Do you understand?”
Delia scowled at him and then shot a glance at her men and Glenys. “Yes, I understand. Please, these men are not guilty of anything except trying to feed their families, and Glenys had nothing to do with what happened last night. Please, let them go.”
Marius held up his hand and took a deep breath when he locked eyes with her. Delia could not stop the tears from forming.
“Punishment for what you have done is—severe,” he said. “Helping prisoners escape from detainment is punishable by hanging, beheading, or crucifixion. Do you understand?”
Delia could not stop her voice from shaking. “Y—yes.” She swallowed back the fear. Tears fell down her cheeks and the corners of her lips fell.
Marius looked at her a long time and then leaned back in his chair. He brought his brows together and lowered his eyes to his hands.
“Then it is fortunate I had released your men last night before the escape attempt. Otherwise, these proceeding would be quite different.”
“What?” Delia whispered.
“What?” bellowed Leonius, taking a step toward the table.
“What?” Aelius said, looking at his commander incredulously.
Marius glanced at them and picked up the wax tablet in front of him. With a quick gesture, he crumbled it in his hands. “The men were freed by me before I retired last night. Aelius can attest to it.”
“Yes, sir,” Aelius said shakily, crossing to stand behind the centurion. “He ordered me to bring him the tablets last night—it was very late, and I did not get them done until this morning.”
“You were in the village last night,” hissed Leonius.
“After, I returned, sir. As I said, very late.” His voice was definite but smooth.
“Regardless, these men were already free,” Marius said, looking at Delia. “They could have left whenever they wished. I had no desire to detain them for simply trying to scratch out a meager sustenance from the ground. I only wished to teach them a lesson. Had you been patient…” he said slowly “…you would have found this out sooner and saved yourself—and your ward—a great deal of pain and trouble.”
“I do not believe this!” the second cried, banging his fist on the table.
“Leonius.” Marius’ voice went suddenly hard when he looked scornfully at his s
econd. “One more outburst and you are relieved of duty. Do you understand me?”
The second glared at his commander and the other two men at the table, but there was no support in their eyes. Leonius stood at rigid attention, shaking with repressed rage.
Marius nodded to the Breton men and sat forward in his chair. “These men are to be released and escorted back to their village. You will see to it personally. Do it now.”
Leonius reluctantly raised a salute to his commander and nodded, then turned on his heels to gather the men together.
As they were untying their hands, Evyn broke away and stood next to Delia. “She comes with us,” he demanded, leaning against the table.
Marius lifted his eyes to the man, and then he looked back down at a tablet. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“Evyn,” Delia said touching his arm. He shook off her hands and leaned further into the table.
“What are you going to do with her?”
“That, sir, is none of your concern.” He caught the eye of a soldier behind Evyn and four hands appeared to pull the Breton from the tent.
Protests from the four men chimed through the camp, but the sound soon faded into the thunder of hoof beats.
A sudden urge to turn and run came over Delia as she watched Marius signing tablets. There was something else, something worse and she did not want to know what it was. All she wanted to do at that moment was leave. Without thinking, she turned abruptly and headed for the entrance. Marius looked up sharply and nodded to his sentries who stepped together to bar her way.
Panic sent a tingle through Delia’s limbs when she looked up at the two stalwart Roman guards. She tried to push it down by closing her eyes and concentrating. “If there was no crime to begin with, then I assume Glenys and I are free to go.”
“No.”
She whirled around and looked first at Marius and then at Aelius, behind him. “I do not understand. You just said…”
“I know what I said, Your Majesty, but we have another problem.”
The word made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. “What?”
He looked at her, and a kind of softness came over his face. “You should have trusted me.”
“I… I do not know why…”
“I told you I would let you know in the morning, but you could not wait, could you?” His voice was so bitter it sent another tremor through her. Marius shook his head and looked down at his hands. “If you would have accepted my invitation gracefully, none of this would have happened! You are the most stubborn, pig-headed…” He smoothed the lines of his face. “Did you really think you would get away with it?” he said.
A hot flush of embarrassment rose through her cheeks and then a flash of anger. Delia could not find any words; there was nothing left in her but stunned silence.
Marius straightened his back and folded his hands. With a voice so crisp it made Delia’s ears ring, he said, “Wounding a Roman officer is punishable by flogging. You will be taken to the poles, stripped naked, and whipped ten lashes each. This will happen immediately.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You would not dare,” she hissed.
A smile crossed his lips for a brief moment. “You think not? You are mistaken.” His steely eyes looked strange in the half-light.
“I… I am the queen of this country,” she stammered, not knowing what else to say but realizing she would do anything to escape the whip. A beheading sounded like a better option to her. “My people admire me, love me. They will not let this pass. You must understand that. You will start a bloody war.”
Marius rose and placed his hands behind his back, pacing behind the table. “You sound almost sincere, Your Majesty, but you are very good at deception. Why should I believe you?”
Delia leaned against the table. “You should believe me because you are no fool. You know as well as I do that the Bretons are tired of this type of treatment. They will grasp any excuse. If you whip me, you will give them a reason to rebel. There are few alliances left to you now, Centurion. Do not destroy one of your strongest.”
Marius turned toward the table and took his seat again, simply staring at her a long time. “Do you think you do not deserve to be punished?”
“No,” she replied, standing back and looking down at her hands. “It is not that…”
“You make a heartfelt plea, Your Majesty,” he replied harshly. “Perhaps you are right. We will whip the girl instead and send her to Londinium to spend a year in one of our jails. Would that be better?” The acrimony in his voice was unrestrained.
Delia shivered under the pronouncement and her mouth went dry. “You would not do that,” she said.
“Yes, I would. For poisoning my men and me, someone has to pay. Either you… or the girl. It is your choice.”
Glenys was sobbing in the large soldier’s arms. “Please, sir… do not send me to prison.”
“That is up to your mistress.”
Delia crossed to Glenys and touched her hair, trying to comfort her, but tears spilled down her own face.
“Glenys, no one is going to hurt you.” She glared at the centurion who watched her closely. “I promise. Aelius…” A kind of calm came over her. She turned her head to the aide. “Would you mind taking Glenys to the medico to see to her foot? It is very swollen,” she sent a pleading look to Marius, “if that is all right with you, Centurion.”
Marius simply nodded.
“No, Highness, I want to stay with you,” Glenys said, clutching Delia’s hands. “He is going to hurt you.”
“Hush, darling,” Delia said, smoothing her hair. “He is not going to hurt me. Please, go with Aelius. He will see to your ankle.” She placed Glenys’ hand into his.
“Will you stay with her?” she asked.
Aelius nodded. Lifting Glenys out of the other soldier’s arms, he took her from the tent, as the other man followed him.
“Very well,” Delia said, turning to the tribunal at the table. “I accept your terms. If you must, have me flogged and imprisoned. I cannot guarantee my people will not attack. I rather think they will, given half an opportunity. When those men return to their village, they will not be silent. News of this will spread quickly throughout the kingdom.” Her tone was dull and strained.
“I do not want them to die, Centurion.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “My life—my years of efforts to help them, will have been for nothing.” Delia lifted her chin proudly and glared at him. “I will not be responsible for that. If I write a note to their leaders, explaining that I accept my guilt and this is voluntarily done, I think we can avoid it,” she said grimly. “Will you see that it is delivered as soon as possible? Send someone to catch those men before they get to the village or Hillfort. Please.”
Marius looked confused for a moment, but then his eyes softened. “I will do it immediately.”
Delia nodded. “Thank you. You may do what you need to,” she said.
“You should have trusted me, Delia. You should have…” He shook his head. Sitting up formally, he stared at what he had written and lifted it to read.
“Delia, Queen of the Corieltauvi, you are sentenced to ten strikes of the lash. You will not be sentenced to a prison in Londinium,” he added slowly, and she closed her eyes in relief. “However, you will remain in this camp to be interrogated until I have the truth about your brother’s plans and your own associations. We will establish whether you have played a role in the dissension of your people. If I find, after interrogation, you are lying—you will be beheaded. Is this clear to you?”
“Yes.” Her voice was faint.
The quartermaster came from behind the table with copper manacles and forced her hands behind her back to secure them. The unfeeling gleam in Marius’ eyes seemed in sharp contrast to her pale trembling.
“In addition, Highness, you are to be ransomed to your brother for his back debts. When those are paid, we will release you but not before. In the interim, I am indenturing you
as a slave until those debts are paid. Do you understand?”
“A slave?”
“Yes.”
“To… you?”
“No.” He motioned through the opening in the tent. “To all of us.”
Grief constricted her lungs when the implications sank in. “Why?”
“It is important you understand your place. My men and I will teach you what that is.”
Marius came around the table, roughly took her by one arm, and escorted her out of the tent.
C hapter Seven
Delia tried to ignore the men while Marius, unceremoniously, led her to the same pole where Leonius had been flogged the night before. Unable to move it, her tangled nest of hair fell into her face nearly blinding her, her hands manacled tightly behind her back, biting into the flesh on her wrists. Someone had pulled her cloak, viciously, from her shoulders. The battered tunic clung to her body in many places, drenched in sweat, even though the afternoon air had a spring chill to it. She stumbled many times, but Marius’ hand on her arm held her firmly and kept her upright. Delia struggled to keep up with his long strides, and when she tried to look at him, his face was always set forward, stony and unreadable. Delia went numb with fright when the clearing and the pole loomed into her limited vision.
The blood had been scraped away from the ground and the stake wiped down. The brownish stains from the night before appeared brightly against the pallid wood. She watched the blacksmith swing the whip, taking a few practice strikes. He glared at her and the soldiers surrounding the clearing in anxious anticipation.
Unable to help herself, Delia lost control of her knees, stopped, and planted her feet in the ground. Marius’ strength was unexpected; he had only to pull her once to get her moving again. He stopped a few feet from the whipping post and released her to face her punishment alone. He turned away, his whirling cloak brushing her weakened legs. She almost fell again but managed to stay on her feet.
The Centurion and the Queen Page 7
