A Legate's Pledge

by Tanya Bird

  ‘And they will lose.’

  She searched his face, hoping to see lies but finding only truth. ‘If they’re going to die, I’m dying with them.’

  A pained expression crossed his face. ‘Young children often remain with their mothers. Lavena could end up in a wealthy household and have a good life.’

  ‘She had a good life, right up until the moment your army arrived and slaughtered her brother in front of her. He was only thirteen.’

  It was Nerva’s turn to stop walking, her words pushing him back. ‘I am trying to save your life, both of you.’

  Brei opened her hands in front of her. ‘You’ve destroyed everything.’ Her voice was getting louder. ‘We never had thousands of men to sacrifice in a display of power, nor would we.’

  He moved closer and covered her mouth with his hand. Her first reaction was normally to throw a knee up, but she forced herself to be still.

  ‘Enough,’ he whispered, easing the pressure. ‘You are going to have to stop fighting me every step of the way.’ His hand fell away. ‘Start walking.’

  Brei never had trouble finding words. According to her father, her sharp tongue was her biggest downfall. But there was sincerity in Nerva’s tone that silenced her. Or perhaps it was just the fatigue catching up.

  Glancing down at a wide-eyed Lavena, she pulled herself together and started walking.

  Chapter 9

  The endless glances in his direction were not improving Nerva’s bad mood. Fed up, he looked over at Marcus. ‘Something you want to say?’

  The tribune looked behind them to ensure no one was listening. ‘Want to tell me why you’ve barely spoken three words all day?’

  They were on horseback, just three miles from Kair House. ‘Meeting with Caracalla has that effect.’

  ‘I don’t think this is about Caracalla.’ He almost sounded amused. ‘I think she’s gotten to you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t give me who. You know who. The pretty one who likes to strangle our men.’

  Nerva faced forwards again. ‘Do you think that is my type?’

  ‘That’s the thing, you’ve never really had a type. Roman women of all calibres throw themselves at you during dinner parties, and all they get in return are good manners and safe conversation.’

  ‘It is called discretion.’

  ‘So you do lie with them?’

  Nerva just shook his head.

  ‘All I’m saying is that you’re not one to swoon over a pretty girl and let your feelings get the better of you.’

  ‘Correct.’

  Marcus leaned in. ‘Until along came a little wild thing who fights better than you do.’

  ‘She is not a better fighter than me.’

  ‘She stole your horse from under your nose.’

  ‘She is a better thief than me, I will give her that.’

  Marcus continued to stare at him, apparently not done with the subject. ‘You like them wild.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You do.’

  It was partially true. Brei reminded him of another highly spirited woman in his life. ‘She reminds me of Mila,’ he finally admitted.

  ‘Your sister?’ Marcus mulled that over for a moment. ‘I see it now. You’re always bailing her out of trouble also.’

  ‘An old habit, perhaps.’ He looked out at the swamp to their left that seemed to stretch on forever. ‘I do not like our position.’

  The tribune glanced over at the stagnant water. ‘We’re almost—’ An arrow flew past his head.

  Hiss. Hiss, hiss, hiss.

  A searing pain exploded in Nerva’s side as an arrow struck the gap in his armour, just beneath his arm.

  ‘Form ranks!’ Marcus shouted, swinging his horse in the other direction. The men ran into position. ‘Shields!’

  Nerva gritted his teeth and snapped the shaft of the arrow. He would have to wait for a medic to remove the tip.

  ‘Cover the general!’ Marcus called, dismounting and snatching up a shield from an injured soldier. He cursed when more arrows rained down on them.

  Slipping from the saddle, Nerva collected a shield also and ran to join the other men. ‘Horses to the rear!’

  A moment later, he was covered by a protective layer of shields, annoyed that he had left his men exposed and trapped. He held his breath as he drew his sword, trying to keep the shield steady above his head.

  ‘Go to the back,’ Marcus called to him as another round of arrows beat against their shields. ‘You’re no good to us injured.’

  Nerva shook his head. ‘If I can hold a weapon and remain upright, I can fight.’

  ‘Right turn!’ Marcus shouted.

  The men shuffled into position, pilums protruding through tight gaps. After a long wait, the arrows stopped falling. The only sounds were panting and shuffling feet—and a woman crying in pain. Nerva could feel blood running down the inside of his tunic as he looked in the direction of the prisoners, trying to remember how far along the line they were. He had kept them close to ensure Brei did not get herself into trouble again. They would not be tucked under shields like the men.

  Shaking his head and cursing, he broke away from the safety of the century and moved to the back, keeping low as he crept along the line of men. The prisoners were easy to spot as they were uncovered, some of them already dead, one writhing on the ground like a trampled snake. He stopped walking and searched for Brei among them, finally spotting her alive at the far end. She was laid over Lavena like a human shield. The girl’s mother was also alive, huddled next to them. Brei raised her head, looking to the swamp while everyone else watched the hill on the other side.

  ‘Steady, boys,’ someone said as they waited for the Maeatae to emerge from the trees.

  Something held Brei’s attention in the water, and she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees to get a better view. Amid the chaos, she had managed to cut herself free. He watched as she got slowly to her feet and crept towards the water’s edge. She stopped, toes pressing into the mud as she leaned forwards, peering into the murky water. Looking at what? Nerva’s heart slowed to a heavy thud as he read her expression. His gaze returned to the swamp, his unease growing. Surely not. Before he had a chance to act on his gut feeling, a creature burst from the water. The only indication that the creature was human was the outline of a blade in its hand.

  ‘About-face!’ Nerva shouted. ‘They are in the water!’

  Men turned in confusion, their shield wall faltering. The swamp creature threw his weapon, striking one of the soldiers in the face. A tortured scream rang out around them; then the water bubbled and shifted, and men rose like monsters in children’s nightmares.

  Hiss, hiss. Hiss.

  More arrows came from the trees, accompanied that time by rocks the size of a child’s head. Nerva took off at a run towards the water’s edge, his shield raised over his head. In those clothes, Brei looked like a Roman woman. She was just as much a target as the soldiers in that moment.

  Nerva reached her in a few strides, covering her with his shield as he dragged her back from the water’s edge. Stones pounded down on them, sending pain up his arm and down his side.

  ‘Hold the line!’ someone shouted.

  Hiss, hiss, hiss.

  The moment Nerva reached Lavena, he threw Brei onto the ground. ‘Stay down!’ She immediately huddled with the girl and her mother. Laying the shield over the three of them, he turned and ran towards the water.

  It took Brei a few moments to process what had happened. For the briefest period, she had foolishly thought herself saved. But the moment she looked the warrior in the eyes, she had known she was in trouble. The soldiers had stripped her of her identity. She looked like a Roman.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Lavena asked, her body shaking violently. ‘Are they here to save us?’

  Brei blinked every time something hit the shield. It was the only thing between them and death. Peeking out of a gap, she watched as Nerva ran into the water, driv
ing his sword through the stomach of a warrior.

  ‘We need to make a run for it,’ Morna said.

  ‘No,’ Brei said. ‘Stay down.’

  ‘And die? I have my daughter to think of.’

  ‘No one will protect you.’ Though Nerva had protected them.

  Lavena squealed as a large rock cracked the shield.

  ‘We’ll head for the trees,’ Morna said. ‘Call to them in our tongue.’

  ‘They won’t hear you.’ Brei glanced again at Nerva, who was fighting an endless stream of swampmen. ‘You’ll die before you reach them.’

  Hiss, hiss.

  ‘Look around you,’ Morna said, her tone desperate. ‘We’re as good as dead if we stay here.’

  Hiss.

  ‘We stay,’ Brei said firmly.

  Shaking her head, Morna pushed the shield away and dragged Lavena to her feet. ‘Come with us.’

  ‘Get down!’ Brei reached for Lavena, but just as her fingers wrapped the girl’s arm, an arrow pierced her tiny shoulder. Morna screamed, and Brei dragged the girl beneath the shield. ‘Down!’ Brei yelled, but it was too late. A rock fell from the sky, and the screaming stopped. She covered Lavena’s eyes as her mother collapsed on the ground beside them, eyes wide and blood running in all directions down her face.

  Lavena sobbed violently. ‘Mumma.’

  Crying was a good sign, but they could not afford to draw attention. ‘I need you to stay as still as possible and be very quiet. Can you do that?’

  The girl was shaking uncontrollably, but she managed a nod. ‘It hurts.’

  ‘I know, but it will hurt a lot more if I try to pull it out.’

  The arrows stopped the moment the Maeatae broke through the lines of soldiers, their battle cries oddly comforting. It was time for Brei to get up. She could not cower on the ground with the dead while her people fought to their deaths. Kissing Lavena’s cheek, she said, ‘Don’t move. Understand?’

  ‘Where are you going?’ The girl’s voice was laced with panic.

  ‘I’ll come back.’ Brei slipped out from beneath the shield and pushed herself up onto her feet, preparing to fight alongside her people. Then she made the mistake of glancing at Nerva. He was thigh deep in the water and outnumbered. He would die in that swamp, and the thought sat like a stone in her belly.

  Her eyes went to the dead soldier a few feet away who had kept hold of his sword, even in death. She bent and snatched the weapon from his hand, and when she straightened, she came face to face with a ghostly pale Nerva. He was panting, his skin glistening with sweat, his lips stained with blood. She could have killed him. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

  Nerva looked down, and she followed his line of sight to a deep gash that ran the length of his thigh. His leg and foot were soaked with blood. She had no idea how he was standing. Her sword fell a few inches, and she looked up at him again, the fight gone from her.

  He opened his mouth to say something, then collapsed at her feet.

  Chapter 10

  Nerva knew he was at sea before he had even opened his eyes. He felt the gentle lift and fall of the ship, heard the creaking wood, tasted the salty air. Gods, how long had he been out?

  Forcing one eye open, he looked around for something familiar to mentally grab hold of, finding only barren walls, a table with a jug and cup on it, and a stool. With a groan, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His side hurt, his leg throbbed, and his head felt like someone had hit him with a hammer. Lying back down, he tried to recall his last memory. He had been in the swamp, mud swallowing his feet and the water stained red around him.

  Brei.

  Nerva had told her to stay down, but when he looked over, he saw her standing alone with a sword in hand, turning in circles amid the violence. He had not realised the extent of his injury until he reached her. Lavena’s mother lay dead nearby, and the girl was nowhere in sight. That was when he noticed the gaping wound on his leg. The icy water had numbed everything, a parting gift from the North.

  Propping himself up onto his elbows, Nerva looked down at the fine Roman blanket covering his legs and breathed a sigh of relief when he counted two of them.

  The cabin door creaked open, and Nerva looked over just as Marcus poked his head in. Seeing that he was awake, the tribune stepped inside.

  ‘He lives.’

  Nerva blinked against the light that followed him in. ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘If you had seen yourself a few days ago, you would understand why.’ He went to stand by the bed. ‘How’s the leg?’

  ‘Difficult to tell when everything is sore. How bad is it?’

  ‘It’s still attached, so that’s something. You’ll be walking with a limp for a while and have one of those scars that children whisper about.’ He pulled up the stool and took a seat. ‘The physician will be by in a moment.’

  Nerva pushed himself up into a seated position. ‘How long have I been out?’

  ‘Four days.’

  ‘Four days?’ He raised his arm to rub his forehead and winced.

  ‘Did you forget about the arrow wound?’

  ‘Evidently.’ He carefully placed his arm back down. ‘All right. Tell me everything.’

  ‘You lost a lot of blood.’

  ‘Not that. How many dead?’ Nerva braced, knowing whatever the number, it would be too high.

  Marcus leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Five hundred deceased. Another three hundred seriously injured. Around half of them auxiliaries.’

  Nerva sat with those numbers for a moment.

  ‘Caracalla arrived with his legion just in time.’

  As much as Nerva despised the man, he was a soldier like his father. ‘Thank the gods for that.’

  A knock came at the door, and the physician stepped inside. ‘Ah, he wakes,’ the old man said, as though it were a joke of some kind. ‘We’ll have you up and about by the time we get to Rome.’

  ‘Rome?’

  Marcus clapped his hands together. ‘Yes, we’re going home. Cordius practically shoved me onto the ship with you.’

  ‘He will be loving this entire thing.’

  The physician pulled the blanket back and got to work. Nerva made a point of not looking, as his stomach was still adjusting to being at sea.

  ‘Fluids,’ the physician said to Marcus. ‘He will need lots of them.’

  Marcus walked over to the table and poured a cup of watered-down wine. When he handed it to Nerva, he said in a hushed voice, ‘He’s mad as a mule but did an excellent job piecing your leg back together.’

  The physician hummed to himself as he unwrapped the leg and studied his handiwork. The smell of vinegar took over the air.

  ‘Did any of the prisoners survive?’ He could not hold the question in any longer.

  Marcus crossed his arms, one corner of his mouth lifting. ‘You want to know if the warrior survived, is that it?’ He rocked on his heels. ‘Brei. Is that what you call her?’

  ‘That is her name, yes.’

  The tribune nodded. ‘She saved your life, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She tore clothes off a dead soldier to wrap your leg, then dragged you over to a pile of corpses to wait out the fighting.’

  ‘You saw her?’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘Snippets. I was a little busy.’

  He was thoughtful a moment. ‘And the young girl?’

  Marcus exhaled and shook his head. ‘Brei is the only one from that group who boarded. That’s all I know.’

  ‘You were focused on the men, as you should have been.’

  ‘They were going to execute her until I told them she saved your life.’ He glanced over at the wound. ‘Of course, that created a new set of problems.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Everyone wants to know why.’

  Nerva shook his head. ‘I am certain Cordius will come up with some scandalous reason that will satisfy Caracalla.’

  ‘The
men will just assume you were sleeping with her.’

  Nerva nodded. ‘Better they think that than label me some sort of traitor.’

  They both watched as the physician secured the fresh bandage, Nerva trying to ignore the growing pain.

  ‘It’s a good thing Severus worships the ground you walk on,’ Marcus continued.

  ‘For now. He will not be around forever.’ Severus was the man who had seen the soldier in Nerva ten years earlier, the day he stepped into the arena to defend his sister.

  ‘Geta likes you.’

  ‘And Caracalla tolerates me.’ Nerva looked at the physician. ‘When you are finished, I would like to meet with the trierarchus.’

  Marcus shook his head. ‘You should eat something first.’

  The physician stopped humming and turned to look at him. ‘Some light exercise will do you good, but the tribune is right. You need to eat or you won’t even make it to the door.’ He guided Nerva back down onto the bed and lifted his arm. ‘But first I need to check on this arrow wound.’

  The smell below deck made Nerva’s stomach turn. Urine, faeces, and vomit blended with the odour of unwashed men. Most of the prisoners were Roman soldiers who had been caught doing the wrong thing. His hand went over his nose and mouth as he descended. While accustomed to the smells of war, this was something else. The sound of violent coughing stopped him. Gods only knew what diseases they had brought on board with them. One thing he knew for sure was that in those conditions, it would spread like fire.

  He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. She was not there.

  ‘On your feet,’ he called to the guard seated on a crate against the wall.

  The man looked up, then stood to attention. ‘General, sir.’

  ‘At ease,’ Nerva said, hobbling down the last few steps. He was already exhausted. ‘I am looking for a prisoner. A native, actually.’ There was no point giving a name. He was the only one foolish enough to have learned it. ‘I cannot see her.’

  The man looked around, thoughtful. ‘All the prisoners are before you, sir.’

  Nerva’s gaze went to the three women seated in the far corner, none of them Brei. ‘You are certain there are no other women aboard?’