The Centurion and the Queen

by Minnette Meador

  “Stay away from me!” Delia lifted the chair, threatening him, and he stopped for a moment. His arrogant smile was infuriating.

  “I am not going to hurt you, Delia. I just want what is mine.” The mad light in his eyes brightened when he moved again. “I have needed you.”

  Delia shivered in disgust. “Stay away from me, you sick bastard!”

  She lifted the chair above her head when she saw him move quickly and smashed it down. It resounded with a satisfying crack when it hit his outstretched arm, breaking the chair. Conall swore in pain but caught the legs in his hands and yanked it once to dislodge it from her fingers. He sent it flying across the room where it crashed against the door and shattered.

  Delia dove for the door. The room was too small, and Conall caught her with little effort. He pushed her back and slammed her against the wall where she crumpled into a heap.

  Losing no time, he caught her by the shoulders and lifted her into his arms. He pushed his lips toward her, but she managed to get a hand free and ran her nails along his cheek, drawing blood.

  A deafening roar escaped his lips. He glared down at her, grabbed her flailing hands, and twisted her around painfully. Delia screamed and kicked him, but he held her at arm’s length, taking both wrists in one hand. He reached into his belt for a length of rope, swiftly tied her wrists, and then threw her onto the bed. Conall touched his cheek and examined the blood on his fingers.

  “You will pay for that, bitch!” The anger in his eyes doubled.

  Delia struggled to her knees, her eyes blazing. She could barely move, but she had to act, now, before he killed her.

  Conall stood over her and glared down, knowing he had her. “We are going to do this slowly. I have been waiting a long time.”

  He loosened the leather armor that surrounded his chest with one hand while the other reached down and grabbed her chin. Delia struggled, but his hand squeezed tightly. He lifted his tunic in a swift motion and pulled his erection into his hand. Delia managed to get her teeth into the flesh on his palm and bit as hard as she could, but it had little effect. His face barely registered the pain. In fact, it seemed to inflame him. He leered and adjusted his hand so she could not bite it again.

  “I have a much better use for that sweet mouth, little whore,” he said, pulling her face toward him.

  “Marius,” she said, barely able to form the word under his clenched hand.

  Conall’s face became dangerous. “What did you say?” The pressure let up slightly on her jaw.

  “Marius,” she repeated, her eyes shining. “He is a hundred times the man you are!”

  Without warning, he brought the back of his hand hard across her face and sent her crashing into the wall. Lights flashed through her head when the pain constricted her body. She could feel the blood rushing from her nose and the slashes inside her mouth where her teeth had embedded themselves into the soft flesh. Steeling herself against the pain, Delia glared and managed a smile.

  “You will never defeat him. You are weak, brother. Stupid! Marius and I will marry, and we will take the crown from you. Romans will rule your country! We will give the people an heir, you impotent bastard!”

  The hand came again and threw her into the table, sending the lamp flying. It burst against the furthest wall, spattering flames everywhere. The thatch caught on fire in many places, but Conall’s madness was complete, and it did not register.

  Delia’s ears were ringing so loud, she could not hear anything. Her head ached and pounded, and her eyesight plunged into darkness. When she shook her head to clear it, the only thing she heard was the crackle of fire licking up the wattle wall, and the unmistakable hiss of a sword as it was drawn.

  The rain had let up, a half-hour into their vigil, outside the royal house of Hillfort. The strange cloaks and unfamiliar clothes felt heavy and uncomfortable, clinging to Marius like a second skin. He hated waiting, hated feeling so helpless. Kuna had to stop him more than once from running headlong into the fortress. Finally, two hours into their watch, Kuna touched his arm and pointed to the roof of the large building. Spiraling delicately to one side of the structure was a curl of smoke, small at first, but rapidly expanding.

  Without warning, Kuna cupped his lips and in perfect Gaelic screamed, “Tan!”

  Marius thought he had lost his mind. “What are you doing?”

  “Watch,” Kuna said in response.

  The guards were instantly alert. The two who were closest to them stepped into the path and frantically searched the house tops. One of them, a large woman with a shock of bright red hair, turned toward the building and spotted it. She shouted to her companion, and they both ran for the front entrance to the structure, along with the other guards.

  Marius and Kuna lost no time in skirting around the building and making their way to a small back entrance, they found earlier.

  Stooping across the path, Marius eyed his sword master and shook his head. “Sly bastard. Come on.”

  They crossed the path and slipped into the opening without notice.

  At the back of the building was a series of wooden scaffoldings that led to the second story of the thatched structure, obviously put there for maintenance. Smoke roiled from the uppermost platform and little licks of flames caught on the ceiling. They would have to hurry. Kuna followed Marius toward the scaffold and they began the long climb.

  Outside, hundreds of people poured into the fort to form lines to douse the fire. Breton warriors surrounded the house on all sides.

  Delia glanced over her shoulder and saw Conall with a naked sword in his hand, his eyes blazing with fury, his massive body illuminated by the burning wall. She could feel the heat growing and had to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness.

  “The house is on fire, you fool!” she hissed at him, but he did not seem to hear.

  He lifted the blade in the air. As he brought the blade down, she was able to twist out of the way and roll across the floor toward the door. But the movement cost her, sending her head spinning. With difficulty, she managed to rise and crouch next to the door, but the smoke was gathering quickly and making it almost impossible to see. It stung her eyes and choked her. Delia’s lungs burned and she coughed violently.

  Out of the smoke, Conall loomed above her. He lifted the sword again. With blazing eyes, he curled his lips and brought the sword down.

  All at once, the door burst open and two men came tumbling in. At first, Delia thought it was the guards, but when the smoke was sucked out of the room she saw a sweet little Asian face.

  She almost cried.

  Kuna grabbed her shoulders and pulled her hard. The blade fell and hit the floor. He bundled her into his arms and rolled both of them through the door into the relative safety of the corridor. She glanced at the two dead men heaped on the floor and then back at Kuna.

  Conall appeared behind them and lifted his sword again, bringing it swiftly down. Before it could hit its mark, another short blade crossed beneath and caught it.

  Marius grinned, when the surprised king lifted his long blade. Before Conall could lunge, Marius flicked the sword out of his hands and sent it flying across the floor. He pushed the king to the wall and lodged his blade a quarter inch into his belly. Conall froze.

  “I am not going to kill you,” Marius said through his teeth. “The Gods know you deserve it, but your country needs their king. I am taking her and you are not to follow. Disband your warriors immediately, tonight. Do you understand me?”

  Conall simply growled, and Marius buried the sword another quarter inch into his belly.

  The king gritted his teeth. “I will find her,” he hissed.

  Marius resisted the urge to drive the point of his blade home. “Do you know what the punishment is for incest?”

  The king furrowed his brow, confused. “What?”

  “Incest. Do you know what the punishment is in Roman law?” When Conall would not answer him, Marius pushed the sword in another half inch and the king bellowed in
pain. “It is castration, you bastard. If you come anywhere near this woman or me again, I promise, I will do it myself. Is that clear?”

  “You seem to think you are getting out of here tonight,” Conall whispered back, the pain making his voice hoarse.

  Kuna stepped behind Marius. “We go now.”

  Marius saw the room fully engulfed in fire, making its way toward them. The flames had eaten a large hole in the roof of the building above their heads, and water poured through from the villagers outside.

  “Remember what I have said to you. I always keep my promises.”

  Marius pulled the sword quickly out Conall’s belly and then smashed the heavy hilt against his head. The large man went down at his feet.

  “We go!” Kuna scooped up Delia’s hand, grabbed Marius’s arm, and propelled both of them down the long passageway. The corridor filled with people behind them as they rounded a corner.

  Without losing any time, Delia pushed passed, taking the lead. “Come on!”

  Around the next bend was another set of stairs.

  “Put your hoods up!”

  Marius followed close behind her and descended the stairs quickly. A group of men came running up, taking the steps two at a time with filled water buckets in their hands, and stopped when they reached Delia. Marius put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Good! You men, get upstairs. Quickly,” she ordered.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” They ran past them and the trio continued downward.

  Once at the bottom, Delia led them to a small side door, and they burst into the cool night air.

  Hundreds of Bretons surrounded the building. The place was bedlam. The crowd was fighting to get water on the flames, passing leather buckets and pottery to one another as quickly as they could. Ladders were being propped up everywhere. People were shouting and running through the streets. It was well-organized chaos.

  The three of them were able to make their way through the throng of Bretons and walked right out the front gate without anyone looking closely at them. Once clear of the crowd, they ran toward the forest. No one stopped them, and they made it to the horses without incident.

  Three hours later, Conall was sitting on his throne in the great chamber at the bottom of the house, furious with his warriors. Even though the fire was out, there was smoke everywhere, and servants bustled to clean the aftermath.

  “Did you find them?”

  “No, sir,” the large warrior said, looking away from his king’s anger.

  “By the Gods!”

  Conall’s head throbbed mercilessly when he regained consciousness, about an hour after they had found him and dragged him away from the fire. He held a compress on the large, black knot rising from his head. The injury made his head spin and his stomach turn. To make matters worse, he was sober. All he could see in front of him was Marius’ sneering face. Conall’s fury had pushed back his better judgment; revenge overshadowed everything else in his mind.

  “How many warriors do we have?” he asked, his own voice setting his head whirling.

  “About three hundred, sir.”

  “Good. Gather the leads,” he said to the older warrior. “Bring them here. We attack the Romans in the morning.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me. We attack that garrison—that century—the one heading up the forest road.”

  The warrior stared doubtfully and searched the faces of the several warriors assembled. “Your Majesty, we’ve made agreements with the Trinovantes to meet them on the field outside Londinium. We cannot abandon them. If we have a hope of defeating the Romans, we have to gather our forces and meet them as one army. If we split our strength now, our chances will be…”

  “In the morning!” Conall bellowed, launching out of his chair and pulling his sword. The older man backed away from him and lowered his eyes. The others around him did the same. “We will attack the century! Bring me my leads!”

  “Yes… yes, sir.” The elder turned on his heel and left the room.

  The Centurion and the Queen

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Anyone?” Marius asked when Kuna caught up with them.

  “No.” The easterner sidled his horse next to Marius. The animals gratefully dropped their noses into the soft grass in the meadow.

  They had hit the trail at full speed three hours before and now stood on the Iter III road, facing east. Being several hours before dawn, the night darkened with black clouds blanketing the sky, and a biting wind blew from the north. Marius’s soldiers were to the north, Conall and his warriors to the south, and east was the City of Londinium . Marius knew what he had to do. He had another battle this night, and he was not looking forward to it.

  Delia sat behind him, holding him tightly. He knew she had not slept in two days and the exhaustion, coupled with recent events, had left her quiet. Delia had said hardly two words since the rescue, and she would not let him go. Marius knew how she felt; he was battling fatigue with every breath and her arms around him felt glorious. He did not want to let her go. Marius sighed, knowing that soon he would have to.

  “Why are they not following?” Marius asked, turning to search the terrain behind them, as if expecting warriors to be thundering down the road.

  “He hear threat, maybe?”

  Marius curled his lip and adjusted the reins in his hands. “Doubtful.”

  He felt Delia’s arms slip from around his waist and caught her before she could fall.

  She woke abruptly. “Sorry.”

  Marius glanced at Kuna, and the sword master caught the silent order.

  “There is a small forest down the road about a mile. We will head for it and get some rest,” Marius said, gently kicking Brutus. The horse reluctantly pulled his head out of the grass and shook his head.

  As they traveled down the road, Kuna smiled. “That remind me old times.”

  Marius shot him an amused look. “The coliseum.”

  “Yes.”

  “The coliseum?” Delia asked, yawning.

  “Kuna was once a gladiator.”

  “What?” She turned her head to Kuna, but he stared ahead.

  Marius continued, “He is a freeman. He earned his freedom from the dirt of the arena. Twenty years ago.”

  “Hmm,” Kuna grunted and folded his arms, his reins resting on the saddle, using only his legs to control the horse. “Marius’s slave. He free me.”

  “Well,” Marius replied, “not exactly. I won Kuna in a bet after he had defeated his fourth opponent. He was one match away from his own freedom, but they would not let him fight.”

  “Humph,” Kuna snorted. “They not like Kuna.”

  “I had a large bet on him winning that fifth battle…”

  “Money! Humph!”

  Marius ignored him and continued. “I challenged the fight master to a game of chance for the fifth match. He lost.”

  “Marius cheat!”

  “What?” Delia said.

  He cleared his throat and glared at Kuna. “I did not cheat! I was…very lucky.”

  “So, Kuna fought his fifth battle and won,” Delia said, pressing herself against Marius. “What if he had lost?”

  “Then, I would have been out a lot of money.”

  Grabbing his reins, Kuna pulled hard on his horse causing it to throw its front legs into the air. Kuna shot Marius an angry look and growled.

  Marius chuckled. “I would also be out the best sword master in the world…and my dearest friend. He has been with me ever since.”

  Kuna gave him a curt, satisfied nod and patted his horse on the neck, talking to it in his native tongue.

  When they reached the trees, Marius led them to a clearing off the road and helped Delia down from the horse. He spread his cloak on the ground and told her to sleep. She did not argue, curling up immediately. A few minutes later, the two men could hear her slow breathing and moved away, staring at the dark woods.

  “You leave now?” Kuna asked him.

  Marius
nodded. “Take her to Londinium and leave her with Antonia.” He glanced over at Delia’s form. “She will not want to go and will insist on going back to her people. So, tell your wife she is not to leave. Under no circumstances, give her a horse. Understood?”

  “You go back century?”

  “As quickly as I can. Conall is up to something.”

  Kuna studied the twisted fingers of his right hand. “You think attack?”

  Marius nodded. “I am fairly certain, yes. Come back as soon as you can, but Delia is to stay there.”

  Kuna shrugged. “She is… hmm… stubborn… like Marius. She not stay, I think.”

  “Well, we will see. It is a long walk from Londinium.”

  With that, he crossed to her and lowered himself to search her face. He did not want to wake her, but the urge to touch her was overwhelming. Marius’s heart had never felt so light and so heavy at the same time.

  “Be safe, sweet queen,” he whispered to the night.

  Brutus had wandered off and it took him several minutes to gather the horse and get him arranged for the trip. When he got to the road, a heavy rain fell. He had changed back into his uniform after the rescue, so the piercing rain sent shivers through him when he pulled his cloak over his exposed thighs. He put the helmet over his head and clicked to his horse. When a bolt of lightning sparked above his head, the rain picked up strength, and he saw Delia standing on the road, getting soaked and glaring up at him.

  “I am not going to Londinium!” Delia shouted at Marius above the clap of thunder that rattled against the night.

  He let out a huff of frustration and moved Brutus to stand in front of her. “Delia, I am trying to protect you. If you stay here, Conall will find you again. This is not up for discussion,” he added gruffly.

  Delia folded her arms, the rain drenching her face. She had never been so angry. How could he just leave her like this, after he had rescued her? The outrage coupled with her exhaustion made her lightheaded.

  “I am not one of your soldiers, Centurion. My place is with my people.”