The Edge of Honor

by Minnette Meador

  The Edge of Honor

  Chapter IX

  The trees were misty in the late afternoon daylight. Rheydyn stumbled through the underbrush, paying no heed to the scratches bloodying her legs and hands. She could barely see through her swollen eyes and could not stop the tears. The overwhelming grief and crippling guilt were eating away at her. She was furious at Delia, at Marius, at Quintius. She wanted them all dead.

  Kuna had been rough, shaking her until he had the truth of the matter. Rheydyn had never been more terrified of anyone. The strange Asian man with the deformed back and scared face had always seemed so comical, so gentle. She was certain he showed very few people this side of his character. She could not get the truth out fast enough; her affair with Quintius, the plot to take over their country and the poisoned perfume she had used to seduce Marius.

  Well, almost everything. She kept the other secrets, the parts Quintius did not know she overheard, the information Rheydyn had meticulously garnered while in the arms of some of his men. It was her assurance for the future and she would use it to manipulate the beast, to get what she wanted, what she deserved.

  The trembling that had started with that interrogation had not stopped. After Kuna had completed his examination, Evyn callously trotted her out of Hillfort on the back of his horse and dumped her at the Corieltauvi border. Rheydyn had no food, no water. They had not even let her gather her sandals.

  When the Iter III road appeared in front of her, she took her first breath of relief. The road was amazingly smooth on her forest-torn feet. She headed west to find her lover.

  An hour down the road she felt it before she heard it, rumbling into her naked feet; the thunder of multiple horses. She dove for the side of the road.

  “There!” echoed behind her and she froze.

  Rheydyn whirled around to see a large group of Roman horses racing down the road behind her. Her heart leapt when she saw Quintius leading them.

  When they stopped, she scanned the group sitting on the sweating horses. Marius loomed large at the center of the group, glaring from behind one of the soldiers, gagged with his hands tied behind his back. From above the ragged cloth covering his mouth, black and blue mottled injuries swelled high on his cheek. Despite that, those turbulent dark eyes made the guilt ring in her ears and she had to look away.

  When she looked up at Quintius, he was smiling down at her.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, throwing his leg over the horse and gathering the reins in his hands.

  “I… they…” Rheydyn’s heart raced in her chest. The fear of a beating for failing him loomed distinctly in her mind and she stepped back.

  “They sent me away,” she whispered. She threw a surreptitious glance at Marius and Quintius followed her gaze.

  Staring at Marius, he whistled for his lead man. “Take the prisoner to camp and place him in high security. Under no circumstances is he to be left unguarded. Do not leave him alone for even a moment.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said. “What should I report to the general, sir?”

  Quintius began unlacing his armor, shifting his gaze back to Rheydyn, who trembled at the gesture. “Tell him I will be along presently to report. I have something to handle first.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier signaled to the others.

  Marius’ eyes shone darkly through his swollen face. The fury was unmistakable and a stab of remorse left Rheydyn quaking inside. Marius lurched back and then forward when the animal moved. The group disappeared into the dusk of the road.

  Quintius continued to unlatch his armor, his fingers deft. He turned his head from side to side without taking Rheydyn out of his sight, working the cramps out of his neck. There was a terrible light in his eyes and Rheydyn cast furtive looks into the forests, searching for a place to run. There was none on this isolated stretch of road and she took a step away from him. She was trapped.

  He pulled the lorica over his head in a quick tug and then ran his gaze over her body. When it stopped at her waist, he reached over and snatched the black veil from her sash. Rheydyn had forgotten it was even there.

  “A memento, my pet? Something to remember him by?”

  Pulling it up to his face, he breathed deeply and then tucked it into his balteus. His eyes were gleaming brightly from under his brow. The look sent tremors of terror through Rheydyn’s back, but she tried to remain perfectly still.

  “You did well, little princess.” His movements were slow, graceful, a dance in the dust of the road as he maneuvered around her. Her pounding heart propelled Rheydyn’s rapid breathing.

  “Thank… thank you.”

  “What reward do you think you deserve?” he asked, moving in a circle, cutting off her access to the forest. She turned slowly to follow his movements, watching carefully.

  “Only what you have promised.” The words sounded soft against the throbbing in her ears. She clamped her teeth together. The world around her seemed to clarify, the fear making her senses acute in the growing darkness.

  “To become my queen.” His lips narrowed and a soft laugh came out from behind them. “Is that what you think you deserve?”

  The breath she pulled in shuddered against her lungs. “You promised.”

  Quintius tilted his head and shrugged, throwing his hands out from his sides. “Forgive me, little princess, but I have found another who will serve me better as a queen. She has lands, people who adore her, a title, even the protection of Rome. What do you have, little princess?” He sneered at her. “Your lands are gone, your people dead or enslaved. You are an outcast, a criminal. I have but to raise my voice and you would lose your head.”

  “No.”

  “What are you, Rheydyn? A treasonous whore? You have betrayed your kinsmen and your country. You are worthless to me. To yourself. To anyone. Let me show you what little use you are.”

  Rheydyn turned to run, but Quintius grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the middle of the road as she kicked and clawed at his hands. When she drew blood, he released her, brought the wounded hand to his lips, and raised the other to strike her across the face. It was the hardest he had ever hit her, and the blow knocked her off her feet sending her flying across the road. When she hit, her wrist cracked against one of the cobbled stones.

  She tumbled several times and a hot fire ignited in her rib cage when one of the delicate bones broke. When her body stopped, a black curtain of pain enveloped her, sending a loud ringing through her ears, followed by the rush of shock that numbed her.

  Quintius strolled toward her, obviously confident she could no longer resist him.

  In that moment of pain and fear, sparked by a courage she had never known, a realization blossomed in her head. It was as if a torch had flared in front of her eyes. At first, she was blind, the knowledge foreign and strange, but as she acclimated herself to the thought, learned in an instant to trust it, it illuminated everything—her history, her decisions, her responsibilities, even her weakness and her cowardice. Nothing had been clearer to her before that moment.

  “Touch me again and you die,” she hissed through the blood in her mouth.

  Quintius stopped.

  Rheydyn pulled herself up and touched something hard in her mouth with her tongue. She spat out teeth and blood onto the road. Her eye and face swelled and it hurt to breath. “Touch me again and he finds out how you plan to betray him.”

  Quintius’ face shifted from satisfaction to confusion. “What are you babbling about?”

  “I know, Quintius. I know about Seneca, about Afranius. I know why they are coming from Rome, when they will be here.”

  His mouth fell open and he shook his head. “Impossible. You are bluffing. You know nothing.”

  Holding her arm tight against her ribs and wincing, Rheydyn struggled to her feet. “I know Suetonius will kill you when he finds out about your betrayal.”

  A slow, even leer covered Quintius’ face. He approached her with care. Rheydyn stood her ground and crouched, d
etermined to fight him with her last strength.

  “That knowledge does not leave this road tonight,” he said. “I will kill you with my own hands. Slowly, painfully, little princess. I am going to enjoy this. I should have done it weeks ago.”

  Rheydyn put up a valiant effort, scratching and biting him whenever she could, but all she had left in the end were her screams. He struck her repeatedly across the face, the stomach, and the head. His mad eyes reflected the sadistic pleasure as he relished her agony with each blow.

  An eternity filled with agony past. All Rheydyn could do was close her eyes, throw her arms around her head, and try to separate herself from the abuse.

  It suddenly ended. She opened her eyes and the last sight as they swelled shut was Quintius turning and running to his horse. The last sound she heard, a drumming coming up through the ground under her ear mixing with the uneven thump of her heart in her throat. She melted into the road and waited to die.

  * * * *

  Delia looked over Kuna’s shoulder as he examined Rheydyn. Pressing her arms on top of her distended belly, Delia threw worried looks down the road. A part of her had not wanted to stop, while another was relieved when they did. The conflict was making her ill… or maybe it was the baby. With all the riding, the baby was getting cranky, shifting inside her irritably.

  Night shrouded the road except for the yellow light coming from a torch Aelius held. Evyn stood vigil, watching the road, murmuring soft commands to the other ten warriors that surrounded them. The air was tense with anticipation and Delia thought about what she should do.

  The impulse was to chase after Marius, to rescue him from the Romans. As the leagues passed under their horses’ hooves, however, her resolve faltered into doubts.

  Vying for dominance over her decision was the fearful implications to her people, her love of her husband, and the crushing grief of his betrayal. Even assured by both Kuna and Antonia of his lack of culpability in the seduction, Delia knew better. Marius had uncertainties. She had seen them growing for weeks. Delia hated her cousin for her part, but she hated Marius more for his weakness. Her deepest fear was not whether she could trust him again, but whether she could ever forgive him. The betrayal had struck her deeply.

  “Lady…”

  The voice drifted into her contemplation and she looked down at Kuna. Delia wished she could dredge up more compassion, but her words were cold. “Will she live?”

  “She live. Rib broken, wrist cracked. Face…” He shook his head. “Face will scar badly.” Kuna lifted his eyes briefly to his wife standing next to Delia and then to the queen. “Will not heal right, understand?”

  Delia pulled air into her lungs and could feel her cheeks tighten. “Very well. Bundle her up and take her back to Hillfort.”

  “No.”

  Rheydyn’s face was so swollen Delia failed until then to see the slits of her eyes shining in the torchlight, staring up at her. Despite Kuna’s protest, Rheydyn brushed him off with her good hand and struggled into a sitting position.

  “Leave us,” she whispered. “I need to talk to the queen alone.” The sound was bubbling through stored blood in her throat, struggling to find its way passed her bloated lips.

  Delia did not move. The last thing she wanted was to speak to this woman. Yet, there was something so compelling in that abused face that she found a shred of pity and nodded once to Kuna.

  He grunted a reply and took his wife’s hand to lead her away from the two Britons.

  “You need attention,” Delia managed, pulling her arms forcefully against her own chest.

  “That will wait.”

  It was not easy to look at Rheydyn’s face. An image flashed through Delia’s head. A smashed doll she had found when she was small. The pottery face had been broken beyond repair.

  “You need to listen.” Rheydyn rasped.

  Delia lifted her chin. “I hardly think you are in a position to demand…”

  “Shut up, Cousin. What I have to tell you could save him. It could save us all, but you have to work quickly, before it is too late.”

  Heat rose in Delia’s face. “How dare you try to advise me.”

  “I do not care that you hate me, Delia.” The cronish voice cut through the air. “If you do not listen to me now, Marius will die, they will take your land, and you will become slave to the monster that did this to me. Now sit down and shut up.”

  Delia brought her brows together. Something in Rheydyn’s words prompted the queen, the leader inside Delia to take control. She slid uneasily to her knees around her distended belly and clamped her jaw tight.

  “Quintius plans to betray Suetonius,” Rheydyn began urgently. “There are two men, councilors to Nero, who are making their way to Britannia as we speak, Seneca, the philosopher and Afranius, the Praetorian Praefectus. Quintius has sent dispatches to Rome outlining the governor’s cruelty to the populace. Nero has ordered these two men to investigate and, if found to be true, remove Suetonius from office. They will appoint Quintius governor in his stead. It has already been arranged.”

  “Good.” The word popped out of Delia’s mouth before she could stop it. “Suetonius is a tyrant.”

  “No,” Rheydyn breathed, the rattle from her lungs muting the sound. “Suetonius is not the problem. Quintius is the problem. He will conquer this island before Rome is even aware of what he is doing and take command against the empire. That is what he is planning. He has already acquired many of the centurions to serve him, either by threat or bribery. Quintius will take a native queen as his wife, incite the Britons to rebel, and command his Roman troops to press them into his service. He will hold the people hostage in exchange for the men’s loyalty, as the Romans have done for centuries. Then he will march against Rome.”

  Delis shook her head. “I do not believe it. Why would Nero’s representatives appoint someone like Quintius to be governor? There are certainly more viable candidates.”

  “Because someone they respect has recommended him.”

  “Who?”

  “Marius, you fool.”

  Delia could feel her head shaking, but she could not find any words.

  “Quintius forged the documents himself,” Rheydyn said, rearranging her bruised hand in her lap. “They are coming here because they think Marius wrote the dispatches. Has he not told you why he is in Britannia?”

  “Hints only,” Delia said, glancing back at Kuna who simply lowered his head.

  “Marius saved the Praefectus’ reputation years ago,” Rheydyn continued, straining to get the words out before she lost her voice. “He took the blame for Caligula’s assassination, averted accusations so that Afranius could stay in command of the Praetorian, so that Claudius could become emperor. Do you understand? They owe him their lives, the continued existence of the Roman Empire.

  “Quintius will make certain he dies before they step foot on Britannia. That is why he rushes Marius to the command camp, why he will torture him for a confession, so that his execution will be quick and legal. Failing that, he will ensure a swift trial. Quintius will kill him himself if he has to. It will not matter how Marius dies. When he does, your land is forfeit, Delia, it will belong to the Roman Empire. Suetonius is prepared to sweep down on Hillfort as soon as they convict Marius. Roman troops have been gathering for days. You have four days before the councilors arrive at Suetonius’ headquarters. If Marius dies before then, Britannia will fall.”

  Delia could feel prickles of fear dance against her back as the news sank in. The breadth of the manipulation by Quintius was staggering. Pieces fell so neatly into place she was amazed she or Marius had not seen the plan from the very beginning.

  Feeling a tiny kick in her stomach, she instinctively touched her belly, and came to a decision. Delia took a deep breath to fight the weight settling against her shoulders.

  “Kuna.” Delia reached for him and allowed the centurion to help her to her feet. Brushing her hands and smoothing her tunic with her fingers, she strode with purpose to
the mounted warriors and gave them orders.

  “Evyn, you will gather every man, woman or child that can hold a lance or sword and bring them to Hillfort.” The men and women surrounding him moved nervously on their beasts. “Train them. Get them ready for battle. You will fight to the last person standing, if you have to. Do you understand?”

  Evyn squared his shoulders and did not protest. “Yes, Highness.”

  “Kuna, Aelius.” The night air stirred coldly along her shoulders and she pulled the cloak tight around her neck. “Quintius must be stopped. He must not be allowed to kill Marius.”

  “Yes, lady, we will stop it. We will rescue Marius.”

  “No,” she said quietly, the word sending shivers of guilt through her heart. “You cannot stop the trial, but you must delay it. At least for a few days. You cannot rescue Marius or Quintius will win. The Corieltauvi will not withstand the armies of Rome, Kuna. I must find Afranius before he reaches the camp. He has to stop this.”

  A chorus of protesting voices lifted from the assembled group. Delia said nothing, letting the noise subside on its own, letting her friends voice their concerns without interjection. She knew what she had to do, so their protests meant little to her.

  “As Marius’ wife, he will listen to me. You all know that. No one else can go in my place.”

  “Lady,” spoke Kuna, taking a step toward her and uncharacteristically wringing his hands. “The baby… the ride…”

  “I will not discuss this, Kuna. The baby is strong. I am strong. I am leaving now. Give me all of the supplies and I will pick up more along the way. I will cut cross-country.”

  “But not alone, Delia.” Antonia stepped forward and touched her arm, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I will go with her,” Rheydyn announced.

  Delia turned around. Rheydyn’s damaged face stared back at her.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” Rheydyn whispered. “I know what road they travel. I will not tell you, but I will lead you there.”

  “Why? What have you to gain by it?”