A Legate's Pledge

by Tanya Bird

  Nerva would have thrown something at him if he had the energy and reflexes necessary, but the tribune stepped around Brei and disappeared. Nerva’s head pulsed as he sat up, even more so when he noticed one of the guards had a blood-crusted nose.

  ‘Come in,’ he said tiredly.

  That same guard shoved her forwards. Given her size, she held her ground well. He would have a word with the man later, but not in front of her. Could not have her getting any more ideas.

  ‘Remove the irons and leave us.’

  The guards looked at one another. ‘Best leave them on, sir,’ one said. ‘Even in irons, she’s trouble.’

  Nerva went to stand, then changed his mind. His head felt dizzy. ‘Yes, I am well aware of the fact. Do as I have asked, soldier.’

  The man stepped forwards, giving Brei a stern look as he uncuffed her wrists before crouching down to remove the shackles. When he was done, he turned to salute Nerva and exited the cabin behind the other soldier. Brei rubbed her wrists and looked around the room. If he did not know her better, he might have thought her nervous.

  ‘Bring that stack of letters and the stool.’ Nerva turned his body so he could lift his bad leg back onto the bed, wincing as he did so.

  Brei looked him over before going to the table. ‘You have been walking too much.’ She snatched up the papers and pushed the stool across the floor with her foot.

  ‘Probably.’

  She stopped halfway between him and the table and sat down. Even at that distance, he could smell the soap he had sent down. She had also made use of the comb, her hair brushed and slightly damp. It fell forwards as she made herself comfortable, and she tucked it behind her ears before looking at him. ‘Has the wound gone bad?’

  He blinked. ‘No, just hurts a bit.’

  She did not look convinced, but she returned her attention to the first letter. ‘All right. Where do we start?’

  He strained to see what she was looking at. Sighing, as though it were the most inconvenient thing she had done since becoming a prisoner of war, she dragged the stool closer to him and pushed her hair to one side as she studied the words. Nerva’s gaze fell to her exposed neck before settling on the letter in her hand. He pointed to the first line. ‘My Dearest Nerva,’ he said slowly, running his finger along the letters.

  Brei examined the marks carefully. ‘That’s your name?’ She pointed.

  ‘Yes.’ He watched her as she committed it to memory.

  Brei was a stark contrast to the women his mother was always parading in front of him. There was something dishonest about rich women—all that paint on their faces, the overstyled hair, and expensive fabric. There was no illusion with Brei. She was raw and refreshingly honest, from her rich chestnut hair to the handful of freckles dusting her face.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she asked.

  He had been staring at her like a fool. ‘I was just thinking through the best way to teach you.’

  ‘We always start with letters.’

  He frowned. ‘Perhaps you could show me something written in your language first.’

  ‘You want me to prove I can do it?’

  ‘I believe you. I am just curious to see if there are any similarities.’

  Another sigh, but then she hopped off the stool and walked over to the table. She dragged a blank piece of parchment to her, snatched up the quill, and studied it for a moment.

  ‘You dip the end in the ink,’ Nerva said.

  She looked around for the ink, then dipped it in. Tentatively, she scrawled a few marks on the page. When she was done, she brought the paper closer to her lips, blowing on it a few times.

  ‘Let’s see,’ Nerva said.

  She returned to his bedside and handed it to him as she sat down.

  ‘What does it say?’ he asked, looking over it.

  She pointed to the marks, dragging her finger along the letters as he had done. ‘Your wound has gone bad.’

  Nerva bit back a grin. ‘Very funny. I thought I was hiding the pain quite well.’

  ‘The pain, yes, but there is no hiding the colour of your skin peeking out from the bandage. It wasn’t like that yesterday.’

  His eyes moved over her face. ‘You must have been looking very closely.’

  ‘Hard not to notice something so unsightly. Plus your cheeks look fevered.’ She brought a cool hand to his face, then quickly withdrew it, eyes returning to the letter. ‘Is this from your future wife?’

  It took him a moment to understand the question. ‘No. One of my sisters—Mila.’ He did not know why he told Brei her name.

  She looked up at him again. ‘Oh.’

  A knock at the door made them both jump.

  Clearing his throat, Nerva called out, ‘Enter.’

  The door opened, and one of the crew stepped inside. ‘Pardon the interruption, General, but the trierarchus needs to see you urgently.’

  Nerva nodded. ‘All right. Send the guards in to collect the prisoner.’ He turned to her as the door closed. ‘We will have to try again tomorrow.’

  She looked disappointed as the two guards re-entered, irons in hand.

  ‘Those will not be necessary,’ Nerva said. ‘She will give you no trouble on the walk back.’

  The guards exchanged a look. ‘She almost broke his nose on the walk here.’

  Nerva breathed out and glanced in her direction. She did not look the slightest bit apologetic.

  ‘He called me a whore,’ she said, ‘and then my elbow slipped.’

  Nerva shook his head. ‘Shackle her.’

  Brei scowled. ‘What?’

  ‘Rome needs its soldiers in good health.’

  She shot up from the stool. ‘So I’m supposed to stand still while they touch me?’

  Nerva closed his eyes as he stood, his leg burning and head pulsing. ‘Shackles,’ he said again. But when the men stepped forwards to secure her, he caught one by the arm. ‘But if I find out your hands have wandered beyond those cuffs, I will break both your noses myself. Are we clear?’

  The men nodded, and Nerva walked out.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, noting the dark circles around Nerva’s eyes when he looked at her. He looked even worse than the day before, his cheeks pinched with fever and his forehead shiny. Brei did not dare touch his face again. The familiar gesture had made them both uncomfortable.

  ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because the trierarchus sent for you yesterday, said it was urgent.’

  Nerva nodded and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘There have been sightings of pirates in the area. We will be stopping for supplies in a day or so. That makes us a target.’

  ‘What sort of supplies?’

  Nerva rubbed at his forehead tiredly. ‘Food. Grain, mostly.’

  She was going to ask where they were stopping but knew such a question would sound like she was planning an elaborate escape. Her gaze went to his injured leg. ‘The physician changed the bandage.’

  ‘Just this morning.’

  ‘And?’

  He exhaled before replying. ‘And the wound has gone bad. But you already knew that.’

  It was tempting to gloat, but she was also aware of how dangerous an injury like that could be. ‘You should lie down.’

  ‘Why?’

  Her eyes searched his. ‘So I can smother you with a pillow.’

  His mouth twitched. ‘Do you know what they would do to you if you killed me?’

  ‘Can’t be any worse than what they’ve already done.’

  He lay back down and draped an arm over his face. ‘Next line. What letters do you see?’

  She looked at the parchment in her hand. ‘You can barely stay awake, let alone teach.’

  ‘Just keep going.’ His voice sounded scratchy when he spoke.

  Brei glanced at the jug of water next to his bed and told herself not to touch it. She was there to learn, not tend him. The only reason she needed to learn Latin to
begin with was because he had taken her prisoner and was forcing her into a life she did not want. What sort of prisoner would she be if she aided her captor’s recovery?

  Letting out a resigned breath, she stood and poured some water, then crouched next to the bed and brought the cup to his lips. ‘Drink.’

  He lifted his arm so he could see her, the small movement looking as though it took great effort. ‘Did you poison it?’

  She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling. She hated to admit it, but they shared a similar sense of humour. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I put an ancient curse on it.’

  ‘That is fine. I am not superstitious.’ He pushed himself up onto his elbows and watched her as he drank.

  She looked only at the cup.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

  She returned to her stool and stared intently at the next line of text. ‘Is that a b?’ Holding the letter out to him, she pointed at the word. When he did not respond, she lowered the letter and looked across at him. He twitched a few times as he drifted off to sleep. It was hardly surprising given the state of him.

  Dropping the letter onto her lap, she held the edge of the stool and looked around the room. A sword lay next to his boots in the corner. Earlier, she had noticed a dagger poking out from the map on the table. Not that she needed a weapon if she wanted to end his life. She could smash the jug over his head, then slice his throat with one of the shards.

  But she did none of those things.

  It was not only because there were guards waiting on the other side of the door, but because she did not want to harm him. So, she did the next thing that came to her mind. Finding a cloth, she dipped it in the jug of water and began wiping his face and neck.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he murmured.

  She froze as if she had been caught doing something wrong, but in that moment, it did not seem to matter that he was Roman or that she was Maeatae. He was someone in need of care, and she was able to help him. ‘Your fever is getting worse.’

  ‘It certainly feels that way.’ His arm slid back, dropping to the pillow above his head. Grey eyes stared up at her. ‘You have lovely ears.’

  Her eyebrows rose, slowly. ‘Ears?’

  ‘Yes. They are neat and perfectly round at the top.’ He blinked as he focused on them.

  Brei dipped the cloth in fresh water, smiling to herself. There was nothing quite as entertaining as the ramblings of a fevered man. Of all the things for him to compliment her on. ‘They are my mother's ears.’ Her smile faded. ‘My nephew has them also.’

  Nerva drew a breath and continued to watch her. ‘That is why you fight so well.’

  ‘Because of my ears?’ she wiped his face.

  ‘Because of your mother. Nothing motivates a person more than revenge. Though it will eat you up if you are not careful.’

  Brei withdrew her hand.

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  She was silent a moment, wondering if she could talk about her mother with her enemy. ‘She never returned to the village, so we went back to search for her among the dead. There were bodies everywhere, most of them unrecognisable. Then the Romans came back and began burning them…’ She closed her eyes at the image. ‘The Maeatae were left on the forest floor for wild animals to pick apart.’ Holding on to the edge of the bed, she waited for the wave of emotion to pass. A large, clammy hand covered hers. She waited for that feeling to arrive, the one that would tell her to pull away. Instead, she felt only calm as she stared down at Nerva’s hand.

  When she found the courage to look up at him, she found his eyes closed. She reprimanded herself for reading into the fever-fuelled conversation. The man hardly knew what he was saying or doing. She pulled her hand free of his and stood, preparing to go to the door and have the guards return her to her cell. But before she had even taken a step, there was a loud crashing noise, and she was thrown backwards. She landed on her side, sliding across the floor and slamming into the wall. Dazed, she pushed herself up and looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. That was when she noticed Nerva on the floor a few feet away. He had been thrown from his bed.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, looking far more alert than he had a few moments earlier.

  She nodded. ‘I think we hit something.’

  Nerva got to his feet and limped over, pulling her up with surprising strength given the state of him. ‘Or something hit us.’

  She was about to ask what he meant when the door burst open and Marcus rushed in. He looked from the empty bed to them. ‘We’re under attack. They’re already aboard.’

  Brei looked to Nerva. ‘Who’s attacking you?’

  Nerva limped over to where his sword and boots lay. ‘Pirates.’ He began dressing. ‘How many?’

  ‘Around two hundred men.’

  ‘You easily outnumber them,’ Brei said.

  Marcus and Nerva exchanged a look that suggested otherwise.

  ‘What?’ she asked, looking between them.

  ‘Influenza,’ Marcus said.

  ‘It has spread through the ship,’ Nerva added. ‘Most of the men are about as useful as me right now.’

  ‘Influenza…’ Brei looked back at Marcus. ‘If they’re as useless as him, you have already lost.’

  ‘I am right here,’ Nerva said.

  Marcus looked conflicted.

  ‘You shouldn’t fight,’ Brei said, doing her best to remain calm. She knew pirates made their own rules and laws and that she was in just as much danger as the men. ‘Your best chance of survival is to hide.’

  Nerva wiped a hand down his sweaty face. ‘You think I am going to hide? Is that what you think a legate in the Roman army would do when under attack?’

  She scowled across at him. ‘If he wished to live, yes.’

  ‘You don't look great,’ Marcus agreed.

  ‘Gods, not you too.’ Nerva finished belting his weapon and looked up. ‘I want every able-bodied man on deck. If they can hold a sword, they can fight.’ He looked at Brei. ‘And take her below.’

  Brei crossed her arms and raised her chin. ‘You said every able-bodied man is to fight.’

  ‘Yes, man being the key word there.’

  Her mouth flattened into a line. ‘You can’t be serious. I’m more able-bodied than the two of you combined.’

  Nerva limped for the door. ‘You are also a prisoner and a threat to my men.’

  ‘What? I could’ve killed you seven times over during this visit alone.’

  Nerva continued walking as if she had not spoken. ‘Get her below deck.’

  Chapter 14

  Brei paced, wearing tracks in the wooden floor. Never had her cabin felt so much like a cage. Nerva had locked her up and left her defenceless, without even so much as a dagger to protect herself. What was she supposed to do if the intruders made it below deck? She hoped the prisoners coughing their lungs up at the end of the passageway would deter them.

  Above her she could hear shouting and banging, things breaking, people breaking. Weapons screeched, some falling to the ground alongside the people who once held them. There was no way Nerva was well enough for the battle she could hear overhead. A frustrated groan escaped her, but then shouting outside her cabin made her freeze. She held her breath as the clash of blades drew close. Then silence—but not the good kind.

  Footsteps approached, and the lock rattled. A string of curses followed.

  ‘Get it open’ came a voice.

  The man spoke Latin, though not the dialect she was familiar with.

  She glanced about the cabin for something to defend herself, her eyes landing on the pail in the corner. Snatching it up, she went to stand by the door. The small window went dark as a face covered it. Someone peered inside. She knew they could not see her, because there was no light, and she was at an angle that made it difficult.

  Bang. Bang, bang, bang.

  She jumped as something pounded the timber door—a foot, perhaps. Her hand tightened around the ro
pe handle of the pail, and she swung it gently, getting used to the weight of it.

  Bang.

  That time the door swung open, smashing against the wall. Brei raised the pail and brought it down on the stranger’s head. It broke apart on impact. Dazed, the man staggered backwards, clutching his head. Another man entered behind him, holding a dagger. He looked around, blinking, no doubt waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. She lunged forwards and stole the sword hanging from the dizzy intruder’s hip. She felt much better with a weapon in her hand.

  ‘Oh, love,’ said the other man. ‘What do you think you’re going to do with that? Why don't you hand it over before you hurt yourself?’

  She spun the sword a few times, eyes never leaving him. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  The two men exchanged a surprised look, then advanced towards her. ‘I think we have ourselves a little highlander,’ said the first man.

  ‘What you doin’ in here, love?’ the other asked. ‘Looks like them soldiers aren’t treating you right.’ His smile revealed broken teeth.

  ‘Best you come with us,’ the other said. ‘We'll take much better care of you.’

  At least now she knew the type of men she was dealing with. ‘I can take care of myself.’

  The pirates chuckled and edged towards her. ‘There's a good girl. Hand over the sword before you accidentally cut a finger off.’

  ‘No.’ She swung her sword, disarming the man with the dagger. It fell to the ground, and she kicked it behind her. His mouth fell open. ‘Now let me past, or I’ll kill you both.’

  The man closest shook his head. ‘Oh, we have a wild one here. How about we—’

  She did not let him finish his sentence. Spinning, she slashed at his ribs, and he cried out, hands flying over the gaping wound. Before the other man had a chance to act, she pushed between them and took off at a run. When she reached the other prisoners, she found them huddled against one wall while two men fought in the middle. She did not stick around to be spotted but continued past them to the ladder, climbing the steps two at a time.

  On deck, she was met with the familiar sound of battle and a breathtaking backdrop. The sunset painted the entire sky, and it was reflected in the water below. It was a startling contrast of beauty and violence. She searched for Nerva, gaze sweeping the length of the deck. There was a rise of panic when she did not find him. He was probably already dead. The weak and the sick were always the first to die—and he had been very sick. Why on earth had he thought he could fight?