by Tanya Bird
‘Stand down.’ The legate’s tone was firmer that time.
She could tell from his expression that he did not want their deaths on his hands.
Looking across at her sister, she noticed a sheen of sweat on her face. Alane knew they could not win this fight. If Brei had been alone, she might have fought anyway, but her nephew was at home waiting for his mother to return with dinner. Turning back to the legate, she asked, ‘How do I know you won’t kill us both the moment I drop this bow?’
He blinked. ‘You do not.’
The only sound was a low whinny. Slowly, she lowered her bow, never taking her eyes from the man who was asking so much of her. She hesitated before dropping it onto the ground, along with her quiver of arrows.
‘And the dagger,’ he said.
He knew he was not the only one with hidden weapons. Reluctantly, she unsheathed her dagger and dropped it on the ground also. She felt completely exposed.
‘Good,’ the legate said. ‘Now dismount and tell your companion to do the same.’
‘That horse is ours,’ Brei said, anger rising.
‘Not anymore.’
She could have sworn his lips twitched. ‘Do as he says,’ she called to her sister before swinging her leg over the gelding’s rump and dropping down.
Only once they were both on the ground did he approach her. She stiffened as he drew near, watching as he collected the weapons. ‘Arms up,’ he said when he straightened.
Her eyebrows came together. ‘What?’
‘You heard me. Arms up.’
She looked over her shoulder at the soldiers who had not moved, then lifted her arms. He stepped up and began patting her down.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, flinching every time one of his hands clapped on her.
He went all the way down to her feet before rising. ‘Checking you do not have another bow hidden beneath all that fur. Off you go.’
She remained where she was, scowling at him. ‘You’re really just going to let us walk away?’
‘This time. If we meet again, I will not be so nice.’
She regarded him a moment. ‘I would’ve shot you in the back, you know.’
His expression did not change. ‘I know.’
‘Brei,’ Alane called.
She looked at her sister, who was getting more and more anxious. The legate turned away and went to his horse. The gelding let out another low whinny and sniffed him in greeting. He patted the gelding’s neck, his hand coming to rest upon a braided section of mane.
‘Did you do this?’ he asked, pointing to it.
She did not reply, instead gesturing for her sister to come to her. Alane walked nervously towards them.
‘Enjoy the walk,’ the legate said, his eyes practically laughing at her.
Brei crossed her arms. ‘If you think you’re going to follow us, you’ll be most disappointed.’
His grey eyes shone at her. ‘You cannot follow a ghost.’
Brei looked again at the other men, who watched them with suspicion. She gestured for her sister to go ahead of her, and she did something she could never have imagined doing: she turned her back to him, held her breath, and headed in the opposite direction of their village.
‘Why did he let us go?’ Alane whispered when they were some distance from the men. Her hands were still trembling at her sides.
Brei snuck a look over her shoulder, but no one was there. ‘Perhaps there’s such a thing as a Roman with a beating heart after all.’
Chapter 5
It had been four weeks since they passed through Antonine’s Wall. Four weeks of damp, freezing temperatures, foot rot, and various illnesses that ravaged the camp.
Four weeks of mindless killing.
Caracalla was leading his army north-east along the Highland Boundary Fault. If all went well, they would meet at Balmakewan, sealing off the Midland Valley.
He could not remember the last time he felt warm. At least he had his horse back, even if the circumstances had caused some problems for him. He should never have let the two women leave, especially not the warrior who would have killed him without a second thought, but he needed to be able to sleep at night in order to survive. Brei, the other woman had called her. Now he just had to pray he would never see her again.
‘Halt,’ he said, pulling back on the reins. He raised a hand, and the men marching behind him stopped also. Marcus rode down the wet slope towards him, a group of soldiers following behind him. The horses’ hocks dragged through the mud as they struggled to keep upright, despite there being no rain that day.
‘What did you find?’ Nerva asked as the tribune pulled up his horse. The others came to a stop behind him.
‘A village three miles east of here. Small, but there are horses and other livestock. Fairly quiet. Given the location, I suspect their warriors are busy elsewhere.’
‘They cannot be everywhere at once.’
‘Lucky for us.’ Marcus glanced over his shoulder at Paulus, who was approaching. ‘What do you want to do?’
He wanted to pretend the village did not exist, but Severus’s words rang in his mind. No man left alive. His stomach turned to stone. ‘Are there children?’ There were always children, but he asked the question anyway.
A nod from Marcus, whose dismal expression mirrored his own. Before he could say anything further, Paulus reached them, practically barging between them.
‘What did you find?’
No one spoke for a moment. It was Nerva’s decision as to whether he shared the discovery with the commander. If he did, they would raid the village. While he did not think much of the commander, he had to respect his commitment to the campaign—a commitment he himself lacked at that point in time. He also had to factor in his men. They needed to be fed, and there was not enough wildlife in the forest to sustain an army that size. They needed the grain and could do with the horses.
‘A small village on the other side of the hill,’ Nerva said finally. ‘We will lose half a day if we go there.’
‘The men will just have to move faster.’
Nerva stared at him. ‘They need to be able to fight.’
Paulus swung his horse around. ‘Then I will take one cohort and meet you in Kirkbuddo.’
Nerva drew a breath. ‘That is not your decision to make, Commander.’
Paulus looked genuinely taken aback. ‘We cannot just stroll by.’
He was right, of course, which only worsened Nerva’s mood. ‘Two centuries.’ The words seemed to stick in his throat. He looked at Marcus. ‘Good fighters.’ The tribune nodded, swung his horse, and left at a canter. Nerva turned back to Paulus. ‘One goes in. Furnia will take the other south and wait at the foot of the hill in case any try to escape.’
A nod from Paulus. ‘We will meet you in Kirkbuddo?’
There was no need for him to go, but he felt a strange need to witness the atrocities he was ordering. At least that way he would never forget what Rome’s leaders were capable of. ‘No. I am coming with you.’
Nerva walked his horse through the village, his gaze landing on a woman lying dead on the ground. His insides clenched. That was what the Roman army had become, what he represented, men who killed women in front of their children.
Dismounting, he looked around at the dead, some not even armed. The few men protecting them had never stood a chance against his highly trained soldiers. Now those men were lining up the survivors. What was he supposed to do with a handful of women and children who had tried to flee and been caught by Paulus? The eager commander was preparing for their execution.
Shouting from a nearby hut made Nerva turn. He could hear one soldier swearing, and another sounded as though he were laughing. As he moved towards the hut, something caught his eye. He stopped, his eyes meeting those of a young girl hiding behind a pile of tools. They stared at one another for a moment, and he saw that she was shaking. He brought a finger to his lips before continuing on his way.
‘What is going on here?�
�� he asked, stepping inside.
Two soldiers snapped to attention. One was bleeding from the nose.
‘This one is very feisty, sir,’ the bloodied one said.
The other soldier stifled a laugh.
It took a moment for Nerva’s eyes to adjust to the dark space, but then he spotted her across the dying fire in the middle of the hut. It was the woman from the river. Brei. He let out a tired breath.
‘You,’ she hissed, those golden eyes of hers like two burning suns. ‘I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.’
‘When did you have the chance?’
Her eyes narrowed on him. ‘You followed us.’ She snatched up a small clay pot and hurled it at his head so hard and fast he barely had time to raise his weapon. The pot burst apart on impact, sending shards flying in all directions.
‘Calm down.’
‘Calm down? You dare come to my village, slaughter my people, and then tell me to calm down.’ She clutched a sword in one hand while the other felt around for things to throw.
When he took a step forwards, he saw one of his men lying dead at her feet with a dagger protruding from one eye. ‘I gather that is your handiwork?’
The other men shuffled forwards to look, and all laughter ceased. Brei’s answer came in the form of a hard wooden object. It struck Nerva’s head, and he winced. He watched as a large spoon rattled to a stop at his feet.
‘Really? We are fighting with spoons now?’
‘I’ll fight with only the stumps of my arms if that’s all I have left.’
‘It can be arranged.’
Somehow, she had gotten hold of a bowl, and it went hurtling towards him. That time he managed to duck, and it hit the soldier behind him. The man collapsed on the floor. The other soldier drew his weapon.
‘Stop,’ Nerva said to him, despite not having a better idea. No prisoners. He looked back at Brei. ‘Put the sword down.’
She spat in his direction. ‘Falbh dairich fhein.’
He did not recognise the phrase. ‘I do not understand.’
The soldier to his right cleared his throat. ‘I might be paraphrasing, sir, but I believe she just told you to go have relations with yourself.’
Nerva’s eyebrows rose. ‘Charming.’
‘Look around at what you’ve done.’ Her voice quivered, the venom in her tone faltering.
They watched one another for a moment before he felt the need to look away. ‘If you do not put down your sword, I will have no choice but to order my men to kill you.’ He took a few steps towards her, and she raised her weapon. ‘If you cooperate, perhaps I can find a way to spare your life.’
‘I’ve seen what you do to the women you keep alive.’ The hate had returned to her voice.
He took another step towards her.
‘Don’t come any closer.’
Her feet remained anchored to that one spot. Now that he thought about it, her feet had not moved the entire time. He looked down at the floor and saw that she stood on wooden panels. When his eyes travelled back up to meet hers, he saw her swallow. It was a door. She was guarding something, or more likely someone.
Nerva really should have killed her at that very moment, then dragged her bleeding body aside to retrieve whatever was hidden beneath her feet, but the only people hiding would be women, children, or the elderly. Able-bodied men would not hide underground.
‘Your name is Brei, is it not?’ he asked her.
She hesitated before nodding.
‘Brei, this is what is going to happen. You are going to put down your weapon, and I give you my word that you will not be killed.’
The soldier behind him cleared his throat. Brei searched his face, no doubt trying to figure out his next move.
‘You won’t let me go.’
He shook his head. ‘No.’ A pause. ‘The sooner you surrender, the sooner we will leave.’ He glanced down at her feet, hoping she would comprehend what he was offering. He would say nothing of the people she was protecting if she cooperated.
Her sword fell a few inches, the creases on her brow softening. ‘I put this down and we leave?’ She was understandably sceptical.
He nodded. ‘Yes.’ She had little choice but to trust him—again.
The tension in the moments that followed was palpable. Brei opened her hand and the sword clattered to the floor.
‘Take her outside with the others,’ Nerva instructed the soldier with the bleeding nose. The other one was groaning on the ground. ‘Then return for your companion.’
Brei stiffened as he approached but did not fight when he took her by the arm and led her out of the hut. She glanced over her shoulder at Nerva before disappearing from sight. Another soldier replaced them in the doorway, looking around. ‘Shall I search the place, sir?’
They would take anything edible or of value. As much as Romans liked to pretend the Maeatae were simple barbarians, their craftsmanship suggested otherwise. Some of the pieces confiscated over the previous two years had even inspired goldsmiths back home.
‘I will search the hut myself,’ Nerva said. ‘I want another set of eyes on the woman who just left here. She is stronger than she looks.’
The soldier saluted before leaving.
Nerva looked over to ensure the guard on the ground was still out of it before going to the spot where Brei had stood. He ran two fingers along the groove in the wood until he found a nook that fit one finger. Slowly, he lifted the panel and peered inside. At first, he did not see anything and thought perhaps it was just grain storage, but then seven faces came into view. Five children, an elderly woman, and the woman who had been with Brei when they ran into each other at the stream. Both her hands were clamped firmly over the mouths of the two youngest children. She clearly did not trust them to keep quiet. She froze at the sight of him, waiting to see what he would do. He brought a finger to his lips before replacing the panel.
‘Any grain, sir?’ came a voice from the door.
Nerva turned to see the soldier from earlier returning for his friend. ‘It is spoiled.’
Marcus entered the hut behind him, a small cut above his eye had left a trail of blood down his face. It seemed some people had tried to escape after all—and failed. He stepped aside to let the two soldiers pass. When they were gone, Nerva joined Marcus at the door. They stood together taking in the aftermath.
‘Why does every victory feel like a defeat?’ Nerva asked.
Marcus switched his helmet to his other hand. ‘I hate this place. Even if we do take the North, what sane man would want to live here?’
Nerva’s mouth twitched. ‘Men ordered to.’
‘My next campaign better be somewhere warm.’
‘You are assuming you are going to survive the cold.’
The women and children were lined up between the huts, down on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. The young girl Nerva had spotted behind the tools earlier was now among them. Paulus was striding along the line looking painfully smug.
‘Everything you had now belongs to Rome!’
Marcus exhaled through his nose. ‘I’m so tired of his speeches. Why he feels the need to lecture them prior to killing them I’ve no idea. In a moment they won’t remember a word he said.’
‘Do not let them see your fear,’ Brei called out, though she looked at the young girl trembling beside her when she said it.
Nerva brought a hand to his forehead, picturing his sister Dulcia at the same age. She had been so timid and afraid of the world. ‘We should take them with us. They might be of use, as they know the land better than we do.’
Marcus’s eyebrows rose. ‘Caracalla won’t be happy if you show up with prisoners.’
‘Can you honestly stand here and watch them die?’
‘If you order me to, I can.’
Nerva shook his head. ‘Well, I cannot.’ Stepping down onto the dirt, he called out, ‘Get them on their feet. We are taking them with us.’
Paulus turned sharply to look a
t Nerva, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Judging by the tight set of his lips, he was not in agreement. ‘Caracalla said no prisoners.’
‘Caracalla is not here,’ Nerva replied. ‘And your orders come from me.’
Paulus sniffed and continued along the line. ‘Very well. Let them witness the extinction of their tribes.’
Brei raised her chin as he passed, and he stopped in front of her, hooking a finger under her chin and examining her face.
‘Oh, Caracalla will love you.’
Brei pulled back from his hand. ‘Why? Does he have a death wish?’
‘That is quite enough, Commander,’ Nerva called out. ‘All of you, on your feet.’
Paulus pulled Brei up and held her much too close. ‘Are you ready to watch the rest of your people die?’
She held his gaze and said in Latin, ‘You can level the mountains and fill the swamps, but you can’t erase us.’
Paulus drew his knife and pressed the blade to her throat. ‘I can. One barbarian at a time if I have to.’
‘You have your orders, Commander,’ Nerva called out. ‘Follow them.’
Paulus shoved her away.
‘What sort of man cuts the throat of a child?’ Brei said, spitting at Paulus.
Nerva tried not to listen as he mounted his horse. That mouth of hers was going to get her into trouble. His gaze went to the young girl who stood with her. Her eyes were closed, her teeth chattering. There was a pool of urine where she had been kneeling. Nudging his horse forwards, Nerva went to her and said in Brittonic, ‘You cannot march with your eyes closed.’ His tone was gentle.
She opened them, and a look of recognition passed over her face. Being so young, he had hoped she would remain hidden. He was not sure how she would go over the long distance. But there were no longer any safe havens.
Brei looked over her shoulder at him, distrust in her eyes. He slipped his helmet on and continued past them. Paulus had mounted also and trotted to catch up to him.
‘General—’
‘Let us go while we still have some light, Commander.’
‘You heard our general,’ Marcus shouted, striding towards his own mount. ‘Move out.’
