Maybe because he paid six thousand denarii to keep Gnaeus from separating Horus from her, sent her son to the best school in the city, and spent hours he should have used at the garrison talking with her by moonlight. Wryn raised his hand from the reins, shifting his scale armor. “I planned to free you and him the same day you came to Rome, only I wanted to give you time to find work first. I’m sure I told you.”
“You never told me that.”
Gwen had a point when she yelled at him that Libya didn’t know he planned to free her. Wryn tightened his grip on the horse’s reins.
“Do you just trust no one?” Libya and Marcellus both.
Libya shrugged her shoulders. “It’s how you survive as a slave.”
He fixed his gaze on her. “You can trust me.”
Her shoulder brushed his chest as she moved. “You can trust me too.”
Wryn rolled his eyes. “Trust’s earned not stated.”
She twisted toward him, her knees half drawn up on the horse. “I could have gone to Victor not you when Horus disappeared. And I told you about the assassination plan against Emperor Trajan.”
“You came to me because you had no other options.”
A craggy rock loomed ahead. Afternoon sunlight glinted off the sheer face.
Bruno pointed up. “That’s where we tracked Marcellus.”
The tips of archers’ arrows pointed out from thin slits in a wooden structure at the top. Viri guards circled the bottom of the hill.
“Stay back.” Wryn gestured the mounted riders behind the right hillock. He swung off his horse. “We go up on foot.” He uncinched his scale armor and let it drop to the grass. The glint of armor would draw attention from a hundred paces in this light.
Horse hooves slowed as the Marcellus bodyguards drew even.
Wryn gestured to the man bringing up the rear. “Take four men and keep a lookout around the base of this hill. “You.” He stabbed a finger at Bruno. “I assume your rabble’s capable of scaling this cliff face?”
Bruno nodded.
“Then come.” If he could capture Marcellus before the man assassinated anyone, Gwen and her children would remain safe.
Libya slid off his horse. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, you won’t.” Wryn whipped toward his sister. “I don’t want to hear it from you either, Gwen. Trained killers surround that fortification.”
The stream bubbled underneath Libya’s feet, wetting her
leather sandals. Ahead, Wryn and the guards snuck forward, hunched low as they scrambled from one crag to the next. If those Viri archers glimpsed him, Wryn would die.
Libya’s heart pounded. She glanced to Gwen. “Want to create a distraction?”
“Absolutely.” Gwen swung off her horse, and her silk stola dragged through the mud. “What did you have in mind?”
“How many of the horses can I have?” Libya gestured over the fearsome beasts.
“To save my husband’s life? All of them.”
“The road on the east’s not as steep.” Libya pointed to the broad path where the archers’ arrows pointed. “What if we stampeded them up the road?”
“Excellent thinking.” Gwen jerked her saddle’s girth.
Libya pointed to Gwen’s dress. “Take off your stola and rub some dirt on that silk.”
“You know we could get pierced by arrows if we follow the horses up that road.” Gwen twisted her fingers around the saddle strap.
“I know.” Libya clenched her hands. She couldn’t let Wryn die.
“Help me get the bridles and saddles off, and they’ll look like wild horses. Perhaps we could rub some dirt on them too?” Gwen struggled with a buckle.
With a gulp, Libya looked up to the mount that towered above her. It pawed the ground, its hooves large enough to kill a man. This was for Wryn.
Libya reached for the saddle buckle.
The west side of the crag towered high. The cliff face jutted out too far for an archer to shoot down. Two Viri men paced at the base. Wryn nodded to Bruno.
Lunging, Wryn grabbed the guard to the left. The man slashed with his gladius. Wryn caught the blow and plunged his knife into him. The man fell to the ground as a corresponding oomph came from Bruno and the other guard.
Wryn reached for the first handhold on the sheer cliff face. His fingers strained in tiny crevices as the rock face jutted ever farther out.
Beneath him, the trickle of water was barely audible now.
A pace to his right, Bruno’s hand slipped. Grass gave way as pebbles shattered on the men below. The man gasped.
“Don’t look down.” Wryn nodded to the next handhold.
Finally, the dizzying cliff came to an end. Wryn hauled himself up.
Viri men filled the wooden structure ahead. Slit-like windows revealed the tip of bows. He hunched behind a boulder. Reaching over the shale base, he gripped Bruno’s hand. The man clambered up.
Bruno peered above the rock. “How are we going to cross that space?”
A good thirty paces separated the boulders from the wooden structure, plenty of distance for the archers to mow down half his men. Wryn gauged the space again. The door swung open. One archer peered out, his bow drawn. He motioned to another Viri behind him.
One of the Marcellus guards looked ready to leap up. Wryn gestured Bruno and the rest to stay down. The archer took a step into the pebbled field.
The pounding of hoofbeats sounded. What?
More hoofbeats and the sound of loud neighing grew louder as dust rose from the other side of the building. The archer turned to the east, back facing them.
“Now.” Wryn rushed the door.
Knives clashed against knives. One by one the Viri fell to the ground. Wryn shoved past the bodies into the building.
Marcellus met his gaze.
Wryn grabbed Marcellus’ shoulder. “Killing the Emperor? In truth?”
The door on the east side swung open. Libya. And Gwen.
“Was it you with the horses?” Wryn looked to Libya.
Libya nodded. Dirt streaked her tunica. Her hair tangled in the wind.
“Gratias. You saved lives.”
“You’re safe.” Gwen jumped into Marcellus’ arms.
“Of course, he’s safe. It’s Emperor Trajan I’m worried about.” Wryn glared at him. The man could have gotten Gwen killed.
Marcellus looked over Gwen’s shoulder. “If you had married Aulia Corneli three months ago and freed Libya, we’d never have discovered Victor’s plot and Consul Julius wouldn’t have forced me to help him.”
“It was your idiot idea to ask Libya to spy.” Also, if he’d freed her earlier, Victor wouldn’t have his murderous hands on Horus right now.
Libya stiffened.
Wryn met her gaze. “You’re the one who betrayed me to Victor.”
She crossed her beautiful arms, her lips pursed in a dissatisfied line as if she didn’t find his accusation fair.
Hand on his belt, fingers touching his knife, Wryn stared right back.
“I found my mother.” Marcellus stepped forward. “Consul Julius offered me her freedom if I assassinated Emperor Trajan. He’s keeping her in his southern villa an hour’s journey hence, but he has so many legionaries swarming the place, I couldn’t breach the walls. Even the entire rabble couldn’t fight through them.”
Consul Julius? The man he’d just sent a note to warn Emperor Trajan? Wryn’s hand slipped from his knife. Outside, the sun sank to the horizon, meaning there were only a matter of hours left until Emperor Trajan died.
“Wryn commands legionaries.” Gwen turned in Marcellus’ arms, blissfully unaware that her tunica was ripped up to her knees and dirt covered her face. At least she hadn’t died today.
“And?” Wryn raised one eyebrow.
Gwen skipped one step from Marcellus. “If you go, Wryn, you can demand entrance as a tribune, take Marcellus’ mother, and leave.”
“I have an emperor to save and the entire Palatine Hill to fortify since Co
nsul Julius obviously did not follow the directives on my missive.”
“You sent Consul Julius a missive?” Gwen’s mouth gaped. “I told you not to.”
He should have listened to her. “Unfortunately, yes. I realize this means he now knows that I’m aware of the assassination plan.” Wryn ran his gaze over the fallen bodies of Viri men. He needed to ride hard to the garrison and fetch legionaries in case the Praetorian Guard had turned traitor. Did he dare trust Marcellus here unsupervised? Or Libya?
Gwen gasped. “If Consul Julius mentioned this to his guards, they may as soon kill you as give you Marcellus’ mother.”
“I’m fully capable of handling legionaries, but I’m going to save the Emperor. Presuming Marcellus doesn’t commit any more traitorous acts, I can work on saving his mother after.” Horus too, for though the boy remained safe, he could only imagine how distraught the child must be.
Marcellus tightened his fists. “Consul Julius will kill her by then.”
“You don’t know that.” Wryn glanced out the open door. Before going anywhere, he had to catch and resaddle the horses. “And many have died glorious deaths serving their emperor.”
Marcellus moved into his space. “I’ll not allow you to step outside this building unless I have your pledge.”
“You’re outmanned twenty to one.” Wryn waved his hand over the rabble.
The tattooed men advanced. They touched their knives. Bruno spoke. “Marcellus’ mother’s life is worth more than an emperor’s. I hope the scum does die.”
Gwen turned pleading eyes to him. “What if it was our mother, Wryn?”
Treason, blatant treason, and his sister expected him to enable it. Wryn rested his hand on his belt, shifting the army-issue shoulder plates of his scale armor. “I wouldn’t get myself into a situation where I’d agreed to assassinate the Emperor.”
“We have time.” Gwen pointed to the setting sun. “Rescue her swiftly.”
“No, I’m saving the Emperor.”
Bruno drew his knife. “You’ll not take a step out of this building until you pledge to save Marcellus’ mother.”
Treason, but as Gwen had said, he had time to get to Palatine Hill after that if he rode fast. “If I must.”
“Good.” Marcellus stepped away from Gwen. “Let’s go.”
“No.” Wryn gestured to the circling horses. “You ride for Palatine Hill, alert the Praetorian Guard, and send for reinforcements from the garrison outside the city. Someone needs to save our emperor before a murderer like Victor Ocelli takes over the Empire. I’m sure his first act as emperor will be to kill us all.”
Marcellus’ suspicious gaze focused on him. “How can I trust you won’t ride for the garrison instead?”
Wryn glared at him. “Unlike you, I never break my word. Nor endanger my entire familia’s lives.”
A breathless man shoved through the door, one of the guards they left at the bottom of the hill. Sweat ran down his tunic as he panted. “Men approaching on horseback from the north.”
“Who?” Wryn spun toward Marcellus.
He shifted. “Likely Victor. He said he’d come before dusk to start the plan in motion.”
Fallen Viri guards filled the tavern. Wryn pointed to the rabble. “Quick, take their clothes and hide their bodies.” He could only hope Victor Ocelli didn’t pay much attention to his henchmen’s faces.
Marcellus grabbed the shoulders of a fallen Viri.
Wryn glared at his brother-by-marriage. “You’d better not kill the Emperor while I’m gone. I’ll climb down the western face of this crag and go to Consul Julius’ villa. I’ll meet you at the Palatine Hill in two hours. Gwen, we need to hurry before Victor ascends the hill.”
Gwen already knelt by an unconscious man and started stripping off his tunic. “I’m staying with Marcellus. I’m excellent at disguising as a Viri henchman.”
“I’m not going to ask how you know that.” Wryn suppressed a groan, but it’s not as if arguing with Gwen accomplished anything. “Marcellus, don’t let my sister die. Gwen, ensure Marcellus gets those legionaries from the garrison. Some of the Praetorian Guard may well support the Viri’s plot. I’ll arrive at the palace a good two hours before the timing of the assassination to set up a barricade around the Emperor’s chambers. Don’t let Marcellus kill the Emperor.”
Gwen looked up from sliding a man’s tunic over her dress, a sweaty criminal tunic that smelled of ale, no less. “Not to worry. I can control Marcellus.”
“If you could control your husband, we wouldn’t be in this situation or one watch of the night away from seeing our emperor die.” A coil of rope sat where the archers had stood. Wryn grabbed it.
Marcellus touched his arm, a husky quality in the man’s voice. “Thank you. My mother’s name is Alena. She has green eyes.”
Turning, Wryn gestured to Libya. She followed him out the western door to the sheer cliff face below.
“You’re letting me go with you?” A sliver of a smile played around Libya’s lips.
“You think I trust you in the same room as Victor?” Dropping behind the boulders, Wryn knotted the rope around a stubby trunk.
Libya touched the rock face and swung her leg over.
He grabbed her arm.
“I can do it myself.” She wrenched from his grasp.
“You’ll slip to your death.” He tossed the rope down the cliff. It plummeted until the end slapped the ground below.
“What would you care if I died?” Libya planted her foot in the next foothold. The shale crumbled under her fingers.
He caught her arm. “Because I’m still planning on rescuing Horus and the prospect of you dead while I’m left with that ruffian sends chills down my spine.”
She turned her gaze up to him. He couldn’t help but smile at her.
“He’s not so bad.” The faintest sparkle shone in her eyes as the wind blew the scent of wildflowers around her.
“Blinded by a mother’s love.” Looping his hand on the rope, Wryn pressed her fingers on it. “Now take the rope.”
Chapter 31
The horse’s steady gait continued as darkness closed in around them on the lonely southern road. Libya sat stiffly in front of Wryn on the horse they’d chased down and resaddled.
“Why couldn’t Marcellus keep track of his wretched mother rather than forcing me to risk the Emperor’s life to save her?” Wild olives spread across the road, their foliage making shadows on Wryn’s face.
Libya looked down at the horse’s pounding hooves. Her fingers knit as she stiffened. If only her mother lived and she could track her down.
“What?”
“My mother was sold when I was twelve. I never saw her again.” The hum of locusts rose from either side of the dark road.
Wryn brushed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s scarcely your fault.” She sat away from him, but she could still feel the warmth of his body. How had everything been ruined? She used to love these rides with him. Now he scarcely tolerated her presence. If only she hadn’t gone to Victor.
“You’ve suffered much.”
She shrugged and reached for a passing leaf. A tiny branch came off in her hand. “Most slaves do.”
“What would you have wished from life if you’d been born free?”
She tore the leaf. The pieces scattered beneath the horse’s hooves.
Still, Wryn looked at her.
She dropped the leaves, and they fell into the darkness beneath the horse’s hooves. “A husband, children, and the respectability of a matron.” Not the shame of infamia and slavery.
“That’s all? Gwen waxes eloquent about the cities she wishes to rule.”
Libya lowered her voice as she looked off to the moon. “To walk through the streets head held high, that’s no small thing. That’s everything.”
“You slipped back into ill-repute quite easily at Victor Ocelli’s beckoning.”
“For freedom.” She stiffened against him.
Disgust
radiated from Wryn’s eyes. An ache rose in her heart. His God might see her like Aulia, but Wryn never would. A private path branched off the road ahead. He turned the horse right.
“It wasn’t some great event.” She dug her nails into the saddle’s leather. “I’m a prostitute.” Had he married Aulia this day? He hadn’t mentioned it.
“Don’t call yourself that.” Wryn brushed his hand over her shoulder.
Spine straightening, she pulled away. “Why not?”
“You’re —” He gestured up to the stars. “I don’t know. You think about things and make beauty with poetry and lyre. You’re intelligent, and you love Horus.” He scanned his restless gaze across her face.
“As do many other women who choose prostitution over beatings or starvation. Doesn’t make me not infamia.” Flicking her hair back, she touched the black ink of the star on her cheek. “You see it too. You’re not blind.” How she wished he was.
Wryn frowned, but he swung off the horse in front of a villa gate. “We need to rescue Marcellus’ mother.”
“Who goes there?” A soldier holding a torch called through the bars.
“Tribune Paterculi, your superior officer. I wish entrance.”
The soldier’s red cloak caught the torchlight. “We have orders to let no one enter.”
“Orders from Consul Julius, my associate?”
Libya’s breath stopped. What if Consul Julius had given them orders to kill Wryn?
The legionary swung the gate open.
“There’s a slave woman here, Alena. Bring her to me. I’ll take three of your mounted auxiliaries.” Wryn pointed to men wearing the clothes of the Celts.
Foreign words flew back and forth as the auxiliaries moved closer.
Wryn looked at her. “Germanian legion, probably just arrived. At least they can’t double-cross me if they don’t even speak Latin.” Stepping forward, he spoke Celtic words.
The auxiliaries nodded and grabbed torches.
A light-haired woman entered the dim courtyard, her arms crossed over her coarse tunica.
The auxiliaries saddled horses, and one swung Marcellus’ mother up on his mount. Hooves clattered as they rode into the darkness outside the gate.
Without Love: Love and Warfare series book 4 Page 31