A Legate's Pledge

by Tanya Bird

  A uniformed man tumbled past her, leaving a trail of blood in his path. She stepped over it, sword ready. But before she had a chance to use it, another man crashed into her, knocking her to the ground before running off without so much as a backwards glance. Rolling onto her stomach, she pushed herself up and looked cautiously around. She was going to need to be more careful. Then she caught sight of Nerva at the bow end of the ship.

  He was alive. Now what?

  Given that he could barely keep his eyes open before the pirates arrived, he seemed to be managing quite well. She watched as he stepped back to avoid a blade coming at him, then drove his sword through his opponent’s stomach, thrusting it up before withdrawing it. He wavered on his feet, panting and looking around for whoever was brave enough to attack him next. His eyes met hers across the floating battlefield, and his face hardened.

  Caught in a flurry of fighting men, another body slammed into Brei, knocking her sideways. At least that time she was able to remain upright. She was not usually so distracted when people were dying around her, but she had also never been so irrelevant during a battle before. The soldiers did not care enough to protect her, and the pirates did not care enough to kill her. She searched for Nerva once more and could not find him. Fingers wrapped her arm, and she immediately threw her elbow up, connecting with a chin. She turned, sword raised, only to find Nerva standing there, cupping his jaw with his hand. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘How the hell did you get out?’

  Yes, he was angry. ‘Some men broke the door down. Was I supposed to wait there for more to arrive?’

  One of the intruders ran at Nerva and would have stabbed him in the back, but Brei intercepted and pierced his raised arm with her sword. Nerva spun around and cut his throat before he had a chance to scream; then, taking her by the wrist, he pulled her away from the brawling men.

  They made it all the way back to the ladder before he faced her again.

  ‘Find somewhere to hide,’ he said.

  Her brow creased. ‘Hide? It’s you who needs to hide.’ He looked ready to fall down.

  A soldier ran past, and Nerva pulled her out of the way. They were so close she could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. The smell of smoke made Brei look up, and she found the sail on fire. ‘That can’t be good.’ Nerva appeared not to hear her, growing paler by the second. ‘Are you all right?’

  He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. A moment later his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled. She tried to catch him but only managed to slow his descent to the deck. Crouching beside him, she gave his clammy face a light slap. ‘Nerva.’ His skin was so hot, despite the frosty air. He did not respond.

  Brei looked around for help, but everyone was too busy fighting to take notice of the legate passed out at her feet. Standing, she tucked her sword into her belt and dragged him by one arm into the shadows, where she positioned herself in front of him like a bodyguard.

  As she stood there trying to think through her next move, a large, burly man marched past. He carried a sword in each hand, his arms so muscled that every vein was visible. He stopped walking when he caught sight of her and turned. Her mouth went dry. He had a shaved head with jagged white lines striping one side of his skull. He was missing his right ear, and a white film covered his left eyeball. When he blinked, that eye did not close. Her fingers tightened around her sword as she waited to see what he would do next.

  The man looked past her to where Nerva lay on the ground. ‘What you hiding there?’ He took a few steps in her direction, eyes narrowing. ‘A soldier.’ He grinned at her like a madman. ‘What does that make you, then? His whore?’

  She was barely listening, too busy measuring herself against him. While she was not short by any means, she barely reached his chest. His shoulders were easily three times the width of her own. She felt like a joke standing there with her sword. ‘Keep walking, and I'll spare you the embarrassment of dying at the hands of a woman.’

  He laughed from his belly, the sudden noise making her muscles tense.

  ‘You’re a bold lass.’ His gaze drifted down. ‘Look at those sweet little hips. Bet you’re a tight little thing too.’

  She did not catch everything he was saying, but she understood enough. When he took a step towards her, she swung her sword. He was surprisingly agile, the blade passing in front of his chest as he curved his back.

  ‘I’ll take you with both arms missing if I have to,’ he said. ‘I’m not that fussy.’

  She swung again, and he blocked it with his own sword, using so much force that he knocked the weapon from her hand. She blinked and looked around, searching for another weapon or someone who might help her, but there was no one. The only man who cared if she lived or died was lying unconscious behind her. She backed away from her attacker until her heel bumped Nerva’s shoulder.

  Wake up.

  The man stepped forwards and grabbed her by the arm. She kicked his leg as hard as she could and was surprised when he did not react in the slightest. Wrenching her forwards, she went down on her knees. Rather than pull her to her feet, he began dragging her along the deck towards the stern of the ship. She clawed wildly at his arm, even tried to bite him, but each time he just pushed her away without so much as breaking stride.

  ‘Nerva!’ she called, panic rising. Her time was running out, but the legate did not move.

  When her leg hit a hard object, she managed to catch it with her foot and drag it close enough to grab it with her free hand. It was heavy, but she hoisted it up and saw it was an iron hook. She brought it down hard on his arm. He turned, his mouth pressed into an angry line as he caught her hand before she could strike him again.

  Brei was not just going to hand it over to him. Bringing her legs around, she kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. He cried out but still did not let go of her. With his teeth gritted, he tore the metal pole from her hand and tossed it away as though it were a stick. It flew through the air and disappeared over the side of the ship. He yanked her to her feet and slammed her against the taffrail. His hands were large enough to hold both her wrists in one while the other tugged her tunic up.

  ‘No.’ She spat at him, knowing it would not stop his advances. He leaned against her, the weight of him holding her in place and preventing her from kicking. ‘No.’ The word lacked power, but she kept saying it anyway. ‘No.’

  He gripped her bare thigh and she sucked in a breath, drawing her legs together as tightly as she could. No. ‘Nerva!’

  ‘I don’t mind if you scream,’ he whispered, his breath hot on her ear.

  She felt the burn of tears as he parted her legs with just the spread of his fingers. Instinctively, she threw her head forwards into his face. Blood exploded from his nose. He let go of her leg to cover it but still managed to keep hold of her hands as he cursed and spat. Brei closed her eyes while he bled all over her. Then she realised her own nose was bleeding too, pouring freely down her face and neck. She was dizzy from the knock and had very little fight left in her.

  ‘You like it rough, is that it?’

  His words sounded far away even though they were being spoken directly into her ear. She tried to focus her vision, blinking wildly. ‘You’ll have to kill me first.’

  She braced for just that, expecting him to break both her arms with one squeeze of his hand and throw her to the ground. Instead, she felt his body jolt and watched his eyes widen. His muscles went slack, and he let go of her hands. She pressed herself closer to the taffrail as he slid to the ground. Only then did she see the sword protruding from his back.

  She held on to the smooth wood for balance as she looked around. Nerva stood ten feet away in the shadows, sweat dripping from his ghostly face. His gaze dropped a few inches to her bleeding nose.

  ‘He hurt you,’ he said, barely coherent.

  She brought a trembling hand to her face, wiping at the blood and finding tears also. ‘It will stop in a moment.’ The bleeding and the tears.


  He took a step in her direction, dragging his bad leg behind him. The pain must have been unbearable; how he was upright was beyond her. Stepping over the corpse, she went to him. He surprised her by opening his arms, and she surprised herself by running into them. She fought back the sob that threatened to escape. She would not let one more tear betray her.

  ‘It is all right,’ he said, his voice like a cool drink of water.

  Even in his current state, he offered comfort. Pulling away from him, she looked around for somewhere to seat him. ‘Come.’ She dragged one of his arms over her shoulders and guided him behind a tall pile of crates that might shield them. She was not naive enough to believe they were safe, so after lowering Nerva to the floor, she went back for the weapons. She returned a few moments later, sinking down beside the legate. They sat shoulder to shoulder, watching the sail burn and listening as the fighting slowly came to an end, the Romans regaining control of their ship. Brei’s nose had stopped bleeding, and she made no attempt to clean herself up. She turned the swords, one in each hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, not looking at him.

  He leaned his head back against the rough wood. ‘Do not thank me yet. We may very well drown or burn to death.’

  But they did not burn or drown. Eventually, the fighting stopped altogether. Men shouted to one another. The sails were lowered, pails of water thrown over the flames until all that remained was soggy fabric, blackened wood, and foul smoke.

  ‘What happens now?’ Brei asked, turning to look at Nerva. He did not reply. She had lost him again. Guiding his head down to her shoulder, she closed her eyes and waited.

  Chapter 15

  The Romans called it influenza. Brei had never seen anything like it. It spread like the plague, had guards and prisoners burning up, wheezing, and taking to their beds because they could not remain on their feet. The realisation that Nerva was likely infected also made her nervous. If healthy men were not immune, what chance did an injured soldier stand fighting it?

  The guard who brought her food and water was fine one morning, then by the afternoon had the same wheezy cough that was rattling the ship. He did not return the next day, and no one came in his place. Three days she went without food and water, waking each morning to the splash of bodies hitting the ocean. A cold fear grew in her chest as she realised that Nerva was probably dead. She knew that if he was well enough, he would have come to her. If he had been conscious, he would have sent someone else in his place. But no one came.

  Brei replayed those final moments with Nerva: the burning sail, the weight of his head on her shoulder, the soldiers arriving and trying to rouse him. She had called his name as the guards dragged her away, not because she needed his help but because she wanted to see his eyes open.

  By the time the ship arrived at the Roman port of Ostia Antica, much of the coughing had ceased. The silence was unsettling. After a long wait, the door to her cabin finally opened. She knew the man standing before her had not sailed with them. He looked much too healthy. Holding a piece of fabric over his nose and mouth, he peered cautiously around the edge of the door, visibly surprised to find her alive.

  On deck she was inspected by a physician. Anyone showing symptoms was taken to another part of the ship. She had no idea what became of them, only that they did not disembark. All she wanted was to get off the ship, so when they told her to strip, she did.

  ‘Open your mouth,’ the man instructed. He was dressed in civilian clothes and had a way of looking through her rather than at her. It was better that way as she stood naked before him. He checked her teeth, made her stick out her tongue, told her to lift her arms, stand on one leg, cough.

  ‘Clothes on,’ he finally said before moving to the next person.

  The sun was high in the sky when they finally walked down the gangplank. They were marched along the dock and herded into carts in groups of ten. Brei wiped her face, wondering how she would combat the harsh Roman heat after days without water.

  ‘Is there anything to drink?’ she asked one of the guards.

  The man did not reply but handed her a waterskin as they departed. She shared it with the other prisoners.

  ‘What about food?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t push it’ came his reply.

  She could survive a little longer without food.

  They travelled overnight, sleeping upright with their heads swaying from side to side. When the sun rose the next morning, Brei caught sight of a tall wall in the distance.

  Romans and their walls.

  When they reached it, the cart stopped and more men arrived, shouting instructions at them. Everyone seemed to understand what was being said. That was the moment Brei realised she was the only Caledonian among them. The others must have come from farther south or some other port.

  ‘Out with you,’ one of the guards said, losing patience and pulling her down with more force than was necessary.

  Brei gritted her teeth and joined the line.

  The prisoners were led through the open gate into another world—Nerva’s world, the one he had told her she could not fathom. He had been right.

  The buildings and structures were like nothing she had ever seen. The houses came closer and closer together until there was no space between them at all. Soon they were weaving through narrow streets swarming with men, women, and children of all ages. Women hung from balconies, chatting with their neighbours who were so close they could touch if they reached out an arm.

  The noise, the smells—it was all so overwhelming. As Brei looked around, she half expected people to stop and ask questions of the prisoners being marched through their city, but all she got was a few disinterested glances before they went about their day.

  They were taken to a place called Graecostadium, which appeared to be a marketplace for slaves, just like the one Nerva had described. Her feet stopped at the frightening sight: people in cages. Children in cages.

  ‘Keep moving,’ one of the guards shouted, shoving her forwards.

  She walked on, her gaze fixed on the children.

  ‘Form a line,’ the same guard shouted, pushing them in various directions.

  The women were separated from the men, and then a tired looking bald man wandered out to inspect them.

  ‘All right. What have we got?’ he asked the guard. ‘These the ones from the ship?’

  ‘What’s left of them.’

  ‘They’ve been checked?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The bald man did not look convinced. ‘That doesn’t mean they’re not sick, it just means they’re not displaying symptoms yet.’ He strolled along the line of women, pausing to check various things like fingernails and teeth. At Brei he stopped walking, studying her closely for a moment. ‘Do you speak Latin?’

  She glanced at the other guard before replying. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You look strong. Good for labour.’ He poked at her toned arm. ‘Shame to waste that pretty face though.’

  ‘She's Maeatae. Feisty thing,’ one of the guards said.

  The bald man frowned. ‘Open your mouth.’ Brei did as she was told. ‘Seems healthy enough, but I want them locked up separately just in case. The last thing I need is influenza ravaging this place.’ He pointed at her foot. ‘Chalk her up.’

  Another man came forwards, carrying a pail of white powder. He crouched in front of her, dusting one foot before stepping back again. Brei stared down at the white limb while the bald man placed a small placard around her neck. He scribbled a few words before moving on to the next person. Brei wished she had progressed further with her lessons. Lifting the board, she turned it in order to see the words. They appeared to be a list of selling points. When the inspector caught sight of her, he straightened.

  ‘Can you read that?’

  She remembered what Nerva had told her. Reading added to her value, and the higher her value, the better the household. ‘Yes,’ she lied. In truth, the only word she recognised was Maeatae.

  The inspector re
turned to her and wrote something else on her placard before stepping back. ‘All right. Lock them up and feed them.’

  Brei was ushered into a cage—an actual cage. One that would normally be used to hold a large man-eating animal. They were given water that tasted like metal and some sort of coarse dry bread that was at least a few days old. Brei tore off large chunks, swallowing them whole as her hunger awakened. After eating, she tried to talk to some of the other women, but no one was interested in talking to the girl with the chalked foot. They may have shared a cage, but they were not the same.

  Many types of people made their way through the market that day. Men in tunics, men in uniform, some in togas who arrived in curtained-off boxes carried by other men. She kept expecting them to emerge with injuries, perhaps a leg missing, but the only ailment she could pinpoint was some extra weight around their middle.

  Brei stood at the front of the cage, leaning on the bars, watching them come and go. Those who did wander in her direction took one look at her foot and generally kept walking. It was that way until late in the afternoon, when one man stepped out of a litter, smoothing down his toga as his gaze swept the length of the marketplace. She watched as he wandered along for a moment, then his eyes met hers before looking her up and down. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, his expression making Brei step back from the bars.

  The bald man approached the new arrival with his arm extended. ‘Claudius Liberia. A pleasure, as always.’

  Claudius tore his gaze away from Brei to greet the man. ‘Iunius.’ He briefly took hold of the man’s arm, then discreetly wiped his hand on his toga.