The Edge of Honor

by Minnette Meador

  The sound of Salonius’ guffaws followed Marius as Arturo led him through the receiving chamber and out into the night.

  * * * *

  Marius stared at the blank cell wall for hours, not knowing what to think or how to feel any more. The mat was comfortable, a small brazier kept him warm. A gray morning light had finally crept through the window in his cell, but it did nothing to hearten him.

  The bath had probably saved his life. The fresh dressing on his back along with the ointment applied by the skilled hand of a surgeon gave him his first taste of relief since the torture. Despite that, Marius’ gratitude had shifted into depression hours before.

  The ache for Delia, the fear that something had happened to her, ate away at him until he thought he would go mad. Marius would sacrifice anything to have her back… their land, their people, the whole of Britannia or Rome. Yet he sat, wallowing in his own misery as trustees paced before his small cell.

  The sound of voices down the corridor startled him out of his reverie. One of the voices was a sliver of hope. He sat up on the mat. When Kuna turned into the doorway with Salonius and Aelius stepping behind him, Marius had never been happier to see anyone.

  “He is well?” Kuna asked the trainer, the accent gone, his eyes keen in Marius’ direction.

  “Well enough to fight, Centurion. His injuries were not serious. You said you brought the wagers from the other soldiers…”

  “If it is worth our while. Second,” Kuna called to Aelius who saluted his superior briskly. “Examine the other men. I want to know the condition of this facility, the other gladiators, the odds, and the speculated attendance, everything you can find about this fight. Do it now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Aelius replied.

  At a gesture from Kuna, Aelius hefted a heavy bag and handed it to Salonius. The trainer anxiously untied the top and looked inside. His brows shot up and he glanced at Kuna.

  “By the gods! There must be five hundred Denarii in here.”

  “Five hundred forty-two,” said Aelius.

  Salonius wrapped his hands around the fabric of the sack and squeezed it shut. “That is almost half what the arena makes in a year. Arturo,” he called.

  “Actually, sir,” Aelius replied, his eyes twinkling wildly. “That is one of two sacks. The other is with our horses. You may send your servant to retrieve it. Both sacks are for you… wagers from Suetonius’ men.”

  “By the gods,” he repeated. Arturo came running into the room followed by two gladiators.

  “Sir?”

  “You will find another sack like this on the soldier’s horse outside. Take them to my house and secure it in the usual place,” he said hoarsely without taking Aelius out of his sight. “Do not… I repeat do not let my wife or any of her slaves see it or you. If you fail me, you die. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” The older man saluted his superior, took the bag from him, and headed out the door.

  “How am I to place the wager, sir?” he asked Kuna.

  Kuna curled the side of his mouth and glanced at Marius wickedly. “Two third will go on this slave, a sixth on the Briton. The rest is for the arena. A bit more than the usual, but I would hope that incentive will keep the fight honest, yes?”

  A half-toothed grin spread over the trainer’s mouth and he bowed deeply. “As you wish, Centurion. Is there anything else?”

  “Aelius will give you additional instructions. Leave me with the gladiator.” He turned to pull on one of the chains, making Marius lunge to his feet. Kuna circled him and pressed a knuckle into his buttocks until Marius grimaced. “I will examine him to make certain our investment is wise. Dismissed.”

  The trainer bowed again and motioned Aelius to precede him out of the door.

  Kuna gave Marius a sound smack on the behind and Marius growled at him. “My tolerance goes only so far.”

  Kuna came around and shrugged. “You whine a lot.”

  For the first time in nearly two weeks, Marius could feel a grin split his face. “I am very happy to see you. Where the hell did you get all that money? Did you rob the Procurator?”

  “No,” Kuna replied simply, throwing himself on the mat and lifting his eyes to his friend. “It comes from the soldiers.”

  “Your century does not have that kind of money.”

  “Not only from my century, from all of Suetonius’ soldiers. Seven hundred men contributed. They know where to put their money in a fight, Marius.” He pulled on a twisted finger and stared at his hands. “Of course the officers and Suetonius were not as supportive of our efforts. We barely got out of there alive.”

  Marius stared down at his friend and a knot twisted his stomach. “You deserted? They will hang you.”

  “You worry too much.” He lifted himself off the bed and pulled Marius’ chained wrists to examine them. “These will not pose a problem. We will have you out of here tonight.”

  Marius shook his head and pulled his hands away. “I cannot leave this place…”

  “Yes, you can. Aelius and I will come back in the dark and free you. It is the least…”

  “No,” Marius said with conviction.

  Kuna took Marius’ arm and brought his eyebrows together. “The general marches on your land tomorrow afternoon, Marius. He will destroy the Corieltauvi, trample them under his men’s feet. Evyn has less than three hundred warriors and perhaps seven hundred fighters, mostly old men, women, and children. Suetonius has called the Twentieth to join his ranks.”

  Kuna licked his lips in an uncharacteristic show of nerves before he spoke. “Suetonius marches against the Corieltauvi with eight thousand at his command, nearly every Roman soldier on the island. He will destroy them all and give no mercy. You must ride with us tonight.”

  “I cannot, Kuna. There are three children, boys from Corieltauvi, who will die if I do not cooperate. I must fight in the morning. There is nothing more I can do for the Corieltauvi.” The defeat in his voice made his heart ache, but he had nothing left to give. “Go now, take Aelius, and do what you can for Evyn and his warriors. I am useless to you,” he whispered.

  Kuna searched his friend’s face, but Marius could not look at him. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. Finally, Kuna squared his shoulders and grabbed the ring around Marius’ neck, forcing his face down to peer into his eyes.

  “I will not let you die, Marius, no matter how badly you wish it,” he hissed through his teeth, as angry as Marius had ever seen him. “This is not about you, you selfish bastard. It is not about your betrayal of a woman who loved you without reserve. Nor is it about your cowardice in giving up before the battle is joined. No. This is about your oaths, man, those things you have fought for all your life, have driven into your officers, your soldiers, and have sworn upon your soul to uphold. I will not allow you to crawl away into death. By all the gods, Marius, if you allow self-pity to command your heart, I will cut it out myself before I see you surrender.”

  Pulling his hand over his shoulder, Kuna landed the back of it across Marius’ face and sent him flying across the room and into the furthest wall.

  When he landed, Marius struggled to his hands and knees. Blood dripped in rivulets from his mouth. He shook the shock from his head and glared at his friend from the floor. He spat a wad of blood, testing his jaw to make certain it was not broken and without warning lunged at Kuna. The chains stopped him inches from Kuna’s face and the Asian’s laughter filled the room.

  “Better.” His eyes shone in the muted light. “You listen now?”

  Marius glared at his old friend, but he knew he was right. “All right,” he hissed. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Do not know,” he said. “Will work it out.” He pushed Marius onto the mat and turned for the door. “You rest now.”

  “How will you get word to me?” Marius asked, twisting his neck to ease the pain.

  Kuna turned. “You will know.”

  He left Marius to stare after the empty doorway.

  The Edge of Honorr />
  Chapter XXI

  When Delia woke, she and the baby were bundled in the same blankets they gave her in the Roman medico’s tent. They lay in a clearing, under tangled trees, surrounded by thick foliage. The forest was dark despite the brilliant sun coming through in spots here and there. Her head was spinning wildly and her stomach churned.

  Her baby boy was fussing, but not crying. She pulled him to her breast and let him suckle while Delia tried to get her wits wrapped around what had happened. From what she could see, they were alone in the clearing. Fear wrapped itself around her belly overshadowing the aching pain of delivery.

  Rutilius had woken her in the middle of the night to check on her. That was the last thing she recalled. Wait. No, there was another memory; Quintius’ face looming over her in the tent. It was vague, almost dream-like. He had put something over her nose and mouth before she could scream. It was all she remembered. The opiate was still bitter on her tongue.

  She tried to sit up, but the crippling weakness was too much for her and she almost passed out. An overwhelming trepidation forced sobs out of her.

  “Do not cry, little queen.” The startling voice behind her stopped the sobs in her throat. He must have been there the whole time. The thought sent sparks of terror through her. “I will not harm you. At least… not yet.” Quintius’ voice was sharp in her ears, making her heart pound in her chest.

  Strong hands wrapped around her shoulders to pull her up into a sitting position.

  Delia clung to the baby when her head spun violently. Quintius’ hands were firm on her shoulders and stayed there until the dizziness passed.

  When she was stable enough, she examined her baby carefully. He was pink and beautiful with ten fingers, ten toes, and a mop of dark hair, like his father. Dark blue eyes squinted up at her when she repositioned her nipple, but fluttered closed when his mouth attached itself more securely.

  Pulling her against his chest, she could feel Quintius’ breath against her neck. “I am jealous,” he whispered.

  Delia brought her head back as hard as she could and smacked his chin with it. The effort sent sparks behind her eyes, but the results were rewarding. He released her shoulders and swore. She instinctively tightened her grip on the baby, expecting a blow, but it did not come. Instead, he came around her and sat on a stump directly across the clearing.

  The transformation from the night before was astounding. His uniform was in tatters, his armor twisted and scratched. Deeply muscled arms showed through the hanging rags of tunic under the lorica, dark with dirt, as if he had coated them in mud. In his hand was a naked gladius, the tip of which he spun in the dirt absent-mindedly as he watched her.

  His hair hung in wild strands around his muddy face. The pale blue eyes had a subtle mad light that frightened her. There was a predator’s cold detachment in them, accentuated by a barely perceptible trembling of his head. She could tell he had lost his last shred of sanity. Delia and her child were in grave danger.

  She bit down her fear and glared at Quintius. “I demand you take me back to the Romans.”

  A deep rumbling laugh came out of Quintius’ mouth. “You are an arrogant little queen. Just like she was.”

  He nodded to his right and Delia followed the motion to a shadowed section of the clearing. Covered by blown duff and leaves was Rheydyn’s body, stiff, blue, and mutilated. The naked form looked strangely distorted, unnatural. The face was caved in, black and bloody, the arms and legs twisted, deformed like a yarn doll. Fingers were missing on both hands, as were her eyes.

  Delia could feel the sudden horror creep up her throat until it threatened to close altogether. She pulled her eyes away from the abomination. Wheezing, rapid gasps sent violent tremors into her arms, her legs, and her torso. The baby fused against her chest.

  For the first time, she realized the extent of this man’s madness. Quintius stared at her as if the desecrated remains of her cousin lying naked near him meant nothing. A waft of decaying flesh penetrated her senses. She almost wretched.

  “Do not cry, little queen.” The words had a strange lyrical quality. “Your cousin outlived her usefulness, but she served me very well. That is, until she betrayed me. Even dead, she continues to serve me.”

  Delia struggled to her knees as quickly as her frail body would take her. She could not get the vision of Rheydyn’s disfigured body out of her head, so her mind shut it down. Stumbling to stand, the only thought she had was to escape. The visceral urgency controlled every impulse, every instinct. She managed a few scrambling steps. The baby, dislodged from the comfort of her breast, bawled. His cries sounded far away, the shock taking over Delia’s awareness. The world softened into a dreamy dusk around her, turning the pain in her womb to a fitful ache, neutralizing the absolute terror.

  Within seconds, there was nothing left but supple dullness. Delia closed her eyes to hide there. Falling to her knees, she pulled the child against her chest, lay down on the soft forest floor, and curled her body around him. The sound of pitiful sobs filled her ears, taking away all others.

  Powerful arms lifted her from the ground, carried her to a fallen log, and sat her down.

  “Stop it!” A hand smacked across her face sending needles of sensation through her head and neck. Another hand squeezed her arm until the blood stopped. The pain brought her back to reality. The second blow knocked her head the other way.

  A crippling panic rose when she realized her arms were empty and Delia immediately opened her eyes. Quintius glared at her and grabbed her hair, forcing her head back. A flick of a glance showed the swaddled baby on the ground, his face red with sobs, the air full of his cries. Despite her impulse to fight Quintius, her body would simply not respond and she crumbled into his hold.

  “I can hurt you in ways that will make death seem a luxury. I possess methods of abuse that you could not possibly imagine, even in your darkest nightmares. If you disobey, once, I will make certain you feel deeply everything I have to offer. You and the child… it would amuse me to do so.” The honesty in his tone sent chills through Delia’s neck.

  “Are you going to kill us?” She could barely get the words out.

  “No,” he replied simply. “I need you. Stop his crying, now.”

  Quintius released Delia and she fell in front of him. Crawling on her hands and knees, she reached the baby and pulled him into her arms. She rocked him gently as the monster stood above her.

  “This was his plan all along, was it not?”

  “I… I do not understand what you are asking.” Delia could not find the strength to look at him, so buried her head in the blanket holding the baby.

  “Do not lie to me, bitch.” His hand flew and Delia cringed, but he clenched his fist instead. “Perhaps you were unaware of Marius’ plans. It does not matter. I will lure him to me and then kill him for what he has done.”

  “Marius has been sentenced to slavery…”

  The soft laugh made the hairs behind her ears stand up. “Marius is a resourceful man. Clever. I have no doubt he will escape. His ambitions are very high.”

  He stopped and glared at her sadistically.

  Quintius fell to his knees beside her, lifted his hand, and caressed her hair. The words he spoke into her ear were soft, insidious. “Did Marius keep you in the dark, little queen? Did he not tell you everything? You know so little about his past in Rome, his associations, his correspondence with the Roman elite; ministers, senators, even the Emperor himself. Did he tell you of his plans to re-enter military service, take a promotion to general, and accept the governorship of your people? No?

  “I am quite certain he planned this from the very beginning. Why else would he take a barbarian for a bride, except to take her lands, and her trust, to use her to quell the angry native mobs? He lied to you. He did not intend to stay out of the Legion. Except for my intervention, it would be Marius armed with an edict from the emperor for Suetonius’ removal. Why else would his men, and many others, still be following his order
s? You are an ignorant little fool. His betrayal did not start with Rheydyn, it started the day he married you.”

  “You are wrong.” Delia fought the tears as doubt slipped into her mind like a shadow.

  “Am I? It does not matter. You, little queen, will bring him to me. I will make you watch as I take first his eyes, then his hands, then his heart. You will bathe in his blood.”

  “You are mistaken,” she hissed, the warrior will stiffening her back. “He will not come to you.”

  “I have arranged it so that Marius will be well motivated to escape. Afranius sent guards to search for us. I have left a token for the Praetorian to find. A ladies finger and a wedding band.”

  For the first time, Delia looked at her hand. Her ring was missing. Reluctantly, she glanced over at the mutilated corpse of her cousin. The left ring finger was missing from its hand.

  “They will rush it to Marius in Corinium to identify. I guarantee he will come to find you.”

  He laced his fingers into Delia’s hair and pulled her head back to speak in her ear. “After I have finished him, you will be my slave. If you behave yourself and please me, I may not split the child in half.” He took her earlobe into his teeth and sucked it into his mouth.

  Delia closed her eyes in disgust. “You are a monster,” she whispered as tears ran down her face.

  A deep chortle pounded against her eardrum and Quintius tightened his grip. “Yes, my little queen,” he ran his tongue along her neck, forced her head around and pulled it back. “You have no idea how right you are.”

  He crushed her lips with his own.

  The Edge of Honor

  Chapter XXII

  Marius could not sleep. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling of his holding cell. Snores, whispers, and the sound of Roman dice clicking against the old stones drifted into his reverie.