Instead, they surrounded them on all sides and stood at rigid attention. Behind them, Salonius and his second sauntered into the circle and stood before Marius.
“You have won the day, Centurion. I cannot finish you here. The crowd would tear this structure apart board by board. I will not incite them today. But understand me,” he said darkly, the fury in his face livid, “this is not over. You will pay for what you have done here.” He glared at Thane. “Both of you.”
Something caught Marius’ eye when he glanced at the Administrator’s stand, and a rush of exhilaration coursed through him.
Marius laughed. “I think not.”
Standing next to the Administrator was the unmistakable bulk of his friend Seneca and the commanding presence of the Praefectus Afranius. Delia had gotten through. The Administrator nodded furiously as Afranius spoke and pointed at them.
When Salonius saw it, he went pale. With a hasty hand signal, he ordered the two men escorted off the sand. The crowd went wild when Marius and Thane strutted from the arena, displaying nothing but contempt. Marius knew the citizens would be talking about this fight for years to come.
* * * *
When they finally entered the blackened underbelly of the arena, Marius could feel his knees buckling. His wounds were piercingly painful and he almost fell. Thane caught him and righted him back to his feet.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
“I will be.” Fatigue and shock weighed against his face. He had to fight to remain upright.
There was a commotion at the end of the long corridor. When they emerged into the sunlit street outside the arena, he saw the round, bewildered face of his old mentor smiling at him.
Seneca had put on several pounds and his hair was a thinning mass of gray, but that face was the same jovial mask Marius had learned to love as a young man.
Several Praetorians made their way around the gladiators, their swords at the ready. In perfect synchronicity, they brought them down. The gladiators looked at their master and he gave them a curt nod. Gladii dropped to the ground with a clatter and the men stood down.
Afranius made his way to Marius with a crisp bounce to his step, but his face was grave.
Marius did not care about any of it. He searched the crowd for the one face he wanted to see. Delia was not there and his heart sank.
“Where is she?” were his first words when Seneca and Afranius reached him.
Seneca placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Afranius glared at him and folded his arms. “We have reports of your treason. Are they true?”
Marius stiffened into attention. “Yes, sir,” he said without hesitation. Marius knew Afranius only accepted brutal honesty from his men.
The Praefectus nodded. “Explain yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” At rigid attention, Marius clarified what Suetonius and Quintius were doing to the population. The commander listened quietly until Marius was done.
“I see. Release him,” he called to Salonius.
With great deference, the Lanista quickly removed the chains from Marius’ arms and ankles, untied the balteus from around his waist, and removed the other gladiatorial armor until Marius stood before them naked.
The Praefectus ordered his Praetorian to escort them down the street. Marius would not budge from the spot.
“Sir,” he said nodding to Thane, “this man has fought bravely at my side. I would request his freedom, as well.”
Afranius eyed the Briton for a long time. “You are the prince of the Trinovantes?”
“I am,” Thane replied proudly.
A moment of compassion flashed across Afranius’ face when he looked at Marius, but it faded instantly. “This man is an enemy of Rome, Centurion. You know I cannot release him from his indenture. Remember your duty, soldier,” he snapped.
“Yes, sir, but I…”
“It does not matter, Marius,” Thane said with a laugh. “I rather like being a gladiator.” He grabbed Marius’ shoulders. “Do not worry about me. I will make my own way in the world. Besides, I must finish that tale for the gods.”
Marius noted the unmistakable gleam in the Briton’s eye. “That you will.”
Salonius roughly pulled the Briton away and the assembled gladiators escorted him into the darkened corridor of the arena. Thane gave Marius one final flash of a smile and disappeared into the gloom.
Marius felt a tug on his shoulder and turned to look Seneca in the eye. “I am sorry, Marius. How are you, my boy?”
“Where is she, Seneca? Is she safe?”
Seneca pulled his bottom lip into his teeth and motioned to one of the guards. “Take him to the baths and—”
“No!” Marius pulled his shoulder away from his friend. “Tell me now. Where is she?”
“Marius, I am sorry…”
“Quintius took her, Centurion,” Afranius said to him gruffly. “Two nights ago. My guards have been searching for them ever since.” His voice was precise and strained. “Early this morning, a messenger arrived with this.” Afranius signaled one of the soldiers, who brought him a small black bundle.
Marius instantly recognized the fabric… it was the veil Rheydyn gave him the night of the exhibition. Her perfume still lingered, laced with the stink of rotting flesh. The smell sent a start through him that ended at the hairs on the back of his neck. His fingers shook when he reached for the offered package. Making an effort to calm his heart, he peeled it open.
Inside the black fabric was a piece of red soldier’s wool wrapped around something hard. When he opened it, a spark of fire ran though his blood, sending pricks down his arms and into his hands. He almost dropped it.
A grayish finger blazed against the dark fabric. On it was a golden band, Delia’s wedding ring. Tangled around the finger was a long strand of golden-red hair. Intertwined with it was a delicate lock of black.
Marius stared up at Seneca in bewilderment.
“The baby,” he hissed.
Seneca nodded. “She had the child the night before last. You have a son, Marius.”
“He has them both?”
“The Praetorian are scouring the forests, Marius,” said Afranius. “We will find them.”
Marius lifted his eyes to the commander and a deep twist of fear turned his stomach. In a startling revelation, he knew where Quintius would take them.
“They will not find them, sir. I know where he is taking them. I need a horse.” He crushed the grisly bundle into his fist.
A clatter of hoof beats reverberated down the cobbled road. Marius glanced up to see Kuna leading a very disgruntled Brutus behind him, followed by Aelius. When they pulled up next to the group, Aelius threw a bundle of clothes to Marius.
“Thought you might need these,” he said. “We just received word. Suetonius will be at Hillfort by dusk.” He saluted the Praefectus crisply while Marius quickly donned the clothes. “What are your orders, sir?”
Afranius studied Marius and tilted his head. “Where will he go, Centurion?”
“Quintius will take them to the place where I first saw this veil. He will incite Suetonius to kill them all, every last man, woman, or child of the Corieltauvi. We must get to Hillfort before he does.”
“Son,” Seneca said gently, “you have to accept the fact that Quintius may have already killed them both. If he cut off her finger, who knows…”
“No,” Marius said with certainty. “The ring and the hair belong to my wife. The finger does not. I know my wife’s hand intimately. Praefectus, with all due respect, you need to send a messenger to gather the remaining Praetorian and order them to Hillfort. Send Aelius,” he said, nodding to his ward. “He can guide them there. The rest of us will ride hard to get there in time.”
Afranius made it happen with a single nod to his second.
Marius tucked the package into his saddlebag, mounted Brutus, and unconsciously scratched him between the ears. The horse reared and whinnied, obviously piqued Marius had not ridden him in so long. With
a few soft words in his ear, he charged out of the town with the elite of Rome trailing behind him.
The Edge of Honor
Chapter XXIV
The pounding of Brutus’ hooves against the Roman road jarred Marius until every muscle ached. He adjusted himself in the saddle, but it did not help. Fatigue crept into his limbs again. It was everything he could do to keep his eyes open. His face felt as if it were melting under the strain. When he took a fleeting look back, he was impressed the group was keeping up with him. They were less than a mile from Hillfort and he drove Brutus on.
Kuna pushed his horse alongside Marius and shouted over to him. “You think he at Hillfort?”
“Yes,” Marius replied simply, but did not feel like elaborating. He kicked harder at Brutus and the horse gave him a scolding whinny.
When they hit the forest surrounding Hillfort, he did not wait for the men to catch up with him. Instead, he drove Brutus through the woods. He knew the horse would run until he stopped him or until he collapsed from exhaustion, whichever came first. Brutus was a soldier in the Roman Equestrian legions. Marius was grateful for the horse’s stamina.
When they reached the edge of the forest around Hillfort, Marius reluctantly stopped when Kuna signaled him to do so. He knew it was wise, but the urgency to find Delia was overwhelming his normal common sense. That had gone to hell hours before.
Impatiently, he waited for Afranius, Seneca, and the Praetorian Guard. When they finally arrived, Kuna spoke quietly to the Praefectus. Marius did not care what they had to say; he only wanted to rescue his wife and son.
“The Praefectus says to let him and Praetorian go first, then we follow.”
“Not bloody likely,” Marius snapped, causing Brutus to lift up his front legs.
“Use your head,” Kuna returned, “and see why they need to go first.”
He poked a finger in the direction of the edge of the woods and Marius’ gaze followed. Just on the other side of the trees, a full legion of Roman soldiers lined across the field from a handful of Briton warriors, women, and even children. The Corieltauvi warriors were outnumbered at least a hundred to one. Marius scanned the scene carefully. He did not see Quintius or Delia.
Afranius and his Praetorian flashed by him in a rush, the wind of the passing horses stirring mud from the ground. Kuna forced Marius to stay with a hand on his arm.
Seneca joined the two men.
“The councilor and I will go next. You stay here until we call you. Understand?” Kuna’s eyes looked dark in the gloom of the forest.
Marius nodded numbly. The other two men goaded their horses into a gallop, leaving Marius to stand vigil in the trees.
He could hear the orders rippling down the line from century to century to prepare the javelins. Across the field, Evyn addressed the ragged line with orders to stand their ground. Marius had never seen him more commanding and assured. The renewed responsibility was obviously good for the young Briton. Marius just hoped the Praefectus would get to the general quickly.
Another shout pulled his attention back to the Romans. There seemed to be some confusion as hesitant orders to stand down echoed across the sea of red and black.
“You were a fool to come here.” The voice behind him sounded harsh and far away.
Marius turned his horse and scanned the trees, but no one was visible. “Where are my wife and child, Quintius?” he called.
A soft laugh trailed in from his right. “They are safe, for now.”
Marius thought he saw a shadow in the trees.
Quintius snarled. “You will pay for this, for everything you have done to Rome, for your betrayal. Your end and that of your son will be swift, but Delia will not be so lucky.”
“Where are they?” Marius demanded, pulling his sword.
“Do not worry, old man. You will find them in the druid shrine where you swore your fidelity… even if you did not keep your vow.” The voice faded away.
Marius plunged into the woods to follow it, leaving the sounds of chaos behind him on the battlefield.
* * * *
When he saw her through the branches, Marius’ heart caught in his throat. Delia was disheveled, dirty, and extremely pale, but otherwise whole. The sight of her alive renewed his strength and determination. He would do whatever it took to keep her that way. Unfortunately, the child was decidedly missing. The trap was clever. Marius knew he would walk right into it.
The forest cathedral would have normally sent a wave of contentment through him. The last time he saw it was when he and Delia had been married.
This was sacred ground to the Corieltauvi. It had been since they conquered this land thousands of years before. It was older than the Celts or the Druids, its origins lost in antiquity long ago.
Deeply forested, the dark shadows shrouded the clearing on all sides. At the center was a tall ancient stone, coated with a thick hide of moss. Ivy and ferns trailed up in great clusters. On the giant tree trunks surrounding the clearing were dangling beards of foliage. Lichen, the size of a man’s head, marred the gnarled bark of the ancient trees as they towered hundreds of feet to the sky. The place was dark, lighted only by dusty sunbeams that escaped the canopy of fir limbs and needle leaves.
Delia looked small kneeling next to the great stone pillar. She was weeping, tears falling into her hands lying palms up in her lap. When Marius entered the clearing, Delia did not even look up.
“You must have known this was a trap.” Tears choked her lilting voice.
“Yes,” Marius replied.
The urge to rush to her, take her in his arms, and run from this place was irresistible. Biting the inside of his lip helped him to concentrate. He would have to handle this with great care if they were to survive.
Delia lifted her head and the sorrow in her face was almost more than Marius could bear. “Then why did you come here? He will kill us all! He has the baby!”
Marius kept his voice cold, commanding. “Do you trust me?”
“You arrogant ass!” The voice echoed through the clearing and a shadow moved from the woods behind Delia. “How could she possibly trust you? You used her, betrayed her, and then abandoned her.” Quintius appeared behind Delia with the babe in his arms. “Of course she does not trust you.”
Marius inspected Quintius with a hard glare. Quintius’ uniform was shamefully disarrayed, but his weapons were in fine condition. The gladius gleamed at his side, polished, sharpened, as was the dagger hanging loosely at his waist. He had no shield, but Marius knew he would not need one.
“Do you trust me?” he repeated more forcefully to Delia.
A long moment hung in the air. Her eyes mirrored the green of the moss on the shrine. “I do not know if I…”
“How could you trust him, Delia?” Quintius leaned against the stone above her head and cooed to the baby. His words contained an edge of insanity.
Marius knew Delia was terrified Quintius would do something to her child.
“Tell him you do not love him. Tell him you do not trust him,” Quintius snarled at her.
Delia lifted her hands out of her lap and buried her face inside them.
“But I do,” she whispered and looked up at Marius. “May the Mother forgive me, I do trust you… I love you. Please leave now, before he…”
“Shh.” Quintius adjusted the child into one arm and gently caressed Delia’s head. “She is distraught. You must not leave, Marius. We have so much to discuss.”
“I have no intention of leaving, you sick bastard,” Marius spat. “Delia, tell me again you love me, you trust me.”
Tears welled in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. “I do.”
“Good.” Marius laughed and the sound seemed to startle both Delia and Quintius. “It is all I needed to hear before I die.”
“Touching,” Quintius hissed, slapping his hand viciously against the side of Delia’s face.
Her nostrils flared, but she did not let out a sound.
Marius fought the overwhelmin
g anger, clenching his fists.
“Get off your horse and send it away.”
Marius complied without an argument, giving the beast a crisp order. Brutus threw his head back and trotted out of the clearing. He eyed Quintius narrowly, but knew what was coming next.
“Take off your sword and throw it to me.”
He unstrapped the sword from around his waist and threw it at Quintius’ feet.
A slow irritating smile creased Quintius’ mouth when he stooped down to retrieve the sword. He threw it behind him as far as he could before turning around to confront Marius again.
“Give the child to his mother.” Marius pulled his hands from his sides and held them out at shoulder length, turning so that Quintius could see he was unarmed. “Then you can have me.”
“You seem anxious to meet your death.”
“Not anxious, just resigned to the possibility. Are you going to fight me?”
Quintius looked down at the baby instead and touched the boy’s lips with his finger. Marius’ sinews tightened.
“Do not touch him,” he shouted before thinking.
Quintius lifted his eyes and then very casually squeezed the child in one arm. “He is mine to do with as I please, traitor. You have lost your right to command anything from me. If I choose to end his life, it is mine to end. If I choose to take your whore, here, in front of you, that is also my right. You forfeited your rights when you betrayed Rome.”
“Then finish it.” Marius took a challenging step toward him and balled his fists. “Finish it now. Fight me!”
Quintius looked down at the child and tightened his grip. The baby struggled for breath.
Delia jumped to her feet, but received a backhand that sent her flying across the clearing to land in a heap behind Quintius.
Marius took another step, but Quintius held up the child with both hands around his waist. The baby gasped for air.
Marius stopped and lifted his chin. He forced a derisive smile to his lips. “Are you such a coward that you hold a child as threat rather than fighting me as a man? You are nothing more than a whining dog that cringes away at the first sign of danger. You dishonor the uniform you wear. Do not hide behind the lives of the weak to gain an advantage… only a woman does that. A soldier fights like a man. I have fought twice since the sun rose and have ridden six long hours without rest. I am exhausted, unarmed, and an old man as you said. Only a whining cur would slink away from those odds.”
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