Faithful

by Carol Ashby

  Adela’s eyes widened. Forty-six?

  That slight smile of his grew deeper. “Don’t let the number scare you. They’re not that hard, and once you learn them and their sounds, they just go together to make the sounds of the words.” He rested his hand on hers and gave it a pat. “Let’s start, and you’ll see.”

  She took a deep breath and turned her gaze from his face to the dirt patch at their feet.

  “The first letter is A.” He drew two lines that met at the top, spread apart at the base, and had a short line connecting them in the middle.

  “You try now.” He handed her the stick.

  She drew an exact copy of his.

  “Very nice. Four more, and I’ll have a surprise for you.” He drew a straight line then connected the top and bottom with a half circle next to his A.

  She copied it beside her own A.

  Then he drew a top-to-bottom line next to the half circle and added three short lines at the top, middle, and bottom of the long one. She did the same. Next, he drew a top-to-bottom line with a short line at the bottom, followed by another A.

  When she finished copying those, he grinned at her.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ve written your name. A-D-E-L-A. Adela.”

  A smile broke free that grew into a huge grin as she stared at the marks in the dirt. “I have? But that wasn’t hard.”

  His grin was as big as her own. “No, it isn’t. That was only four letters, but you can see it will take no time to learn twenty-three.”

  She traced the letters of her name before turning her gaze back on his smiling eyes. “How do I write your name?”

  “You’d need twenty letters to write my full name with eight of them being different. Let’s start with just Galen. You only need two more for that. G-A-L-E-N.” He drew them as he spoke them.

  Adela drew his name beneath her own. It had a nice shape.

  He stood and arched his back. “That’s enough for tonight. Time for some sleep. Pick your side of the fire, and I’ll take the other.”

  As he hobbled the horses for the night, she rolled out the bedroll that had been Otto’s. It was very long. She’d only seen Otto seated, so his great height wasn’t that obvious. But maybe being so tall was why he was so stupid about putting himself in harm’s way. Her gaze settled on Galen as he rubbed his stallion’s blaze. Too short to ever think his size would protect him. Too smart to think it would, even if he were tall.

  Galen settled onto the fallen tree. He rested his elbows on his knees and his forehead against his clasped hands.

  Thank you, God, for safe travel today. Let tomorrow be the same, and let us find Otto in Augusta Raurica. Keep him safe until we catch up and rescue him. I thank you that Otto gambled and won Adela from the kidnapper, even if he did stay too long after that and got kidnapped himself. I thank you that she came with me so willingly. This would be so much worse if I were chasing Otto alone. Thank you for…

  As always, the day’s tension drained away as he prayed, and he felt God’s peace when he finally opened his eyes.

  He banked the fire before he lay down and pulled the blankets up around his neck.

  “Good night, Adela. Rest in peace.”

  Adela watched his eyes close. His breathing slowed and deepened. A smile curved her lips as her own eyes closed. Resting in peace wasn’t hard when Galen was resting nearby.

  Chapter 10: A New Direction

  Augusta Raurica, Day 3

  Anticipation surged as Galen rode into Augusta Raurica early the next morning. He twisted in his saddle to face Adela. “If Gundahar tried to sell Otto here, he’d head for the amphitheater first. The gladiator schools are usually close to the arena.”

  Adela’s head tipped. “Schools? What do they teach?”

  “Different ways to fight, and how to give a good show without killing your opponent too quickly. The secutor uses a sword and shield, the retiarius uses a net and a trident. Sometimes it’s two swordsmen fighting, sometimes a swordsman and a net man. The fighters are mostly slaves who belong to the ludus that trains them.”

  “Your friend is already a master swordsman, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he’s never had to fight where he only has the choice of kill or die.”

  “Isn’t that always what a warrior faces?”

  Galen ran his hand through his hair. “Probably, but Otto and I aren’t warriors. Knowing how to use a sword well when we’re sparring isn’t the same as having to bury it in a man’s heart to stay alive. If Otto hesitates, he’ll die.”

  “Would you hesitate?”

  Would he? Only God knew.

  Galen’s brow furrowed. “A man can’t be sure until he faces that choice. And what comes after his choice stays with him until he dies. God says not to murder. That’s different from killing to save a life, especially someone else’s. But I still don’t want to…ever.” His mouth pulled sideways into a slight smile. “I’m hoping we’ll get Otto freed before he has to face that choice.”

  Adela’s eyebrow lifted. “So that’s why you didn’t kill in the campground?”

  “Yes. There’s the amphitheater. The ludi shouldn’t be far.” His smile broadened. “If I have your kidnapper pegged right, he’ll sell Otto as soon as possible to avoid getting caught with him. I’m hoping the trainer who bought him will be willing to turn a quick profit by selling him to me. He shouldn’t have discovered yet how spectacular Otto can be when he’s sparring, but even if he has, Otto should cost less than eight good horses. He shouldn’t even cost as much as two. I’ll have enough to buy him.”

  A faded sign hung above the door of a building across the street from the amphitheater: Ludus Scauri.

  Galen slipped off Astrelo. “This looks like a good place to start.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If God’s hand is upon us today, I’ll be coming back with Otto. Or at least with some information about where we can find him.”

  He handed his reins to Adela and strode through the door.

  Galen followed the sound of wood striking wood to a low wall overlooking a small arena. Several gladiators were striking man-high stakes with wooden swords, and some were sparring with each other.

  He leaned over the edge and called out. “Is lanista Scaurus here? I’d like to speak with him.”

  The man overseeing the sparring turned and looked up. “I’m Scaurus.”

  “I’m looking for a tall German that some men are trying to sell as a gladiator. Have you seen him?”

  With a flick of his fingers, Scaurus summoned his assistant to watch the sparring men. “I’ll be right up.”

  Galen’s pulse pounded as he waited for Scaurus to appear at the head of the stairs leading down to the arena.

  The lanista strode to where Galen stood and crossed his arms. “Tell me about the man you’re seeking.”

  “He’s Otto of the Vangiones tribe. He’s more than a foot taller than me. Blond, trimmed beard and hair to here.” His fingers brushed his shoulders. “We were selling horses in Argentorate three days ago. He got himself kidnapped, and I’m trying to track him down.”

  Scaurus’s mouth pulled sideways. “Some men tried to sell me such a man yesterday. They claimed he was a Langobardi called Bjorn, but the bill of sale had no questor’s seal. I didn’t buy him, and I don’t think the owners of the other ludi in this town would, either.”

  Galen sucked air between his teeth as his hope for an end to the chase withered. “Do you have any idea where they went from here?”

  “After I turned down his offer, I heard the leader mention Vindonissa to his friend. That’s a day’s ride east toward Brigantium. There’s an arena there that was used regularly when it was headquarters for the XXI Rapax. Since the legion left, I don’t think it’s used very often. There are games in Brigantium sometimes. That’s two days farther east. It’s the headquarters of the provincial fleet on Lacus Briganti
nus. The prefect of the fleet likes the games, and there’s a large garrison, too.”

  “So, you think they went that way?”

  The lanista tightened his lips as he shrugged. “It’s where I’d look if it was my friend.”

  Galen heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Scaurus. I guess that’s where we go next.”

  Scaurus slapped Galen’s shoulder. “Your friend is lucky to have you searching for him. May the goddess Fortuna give you success in your hunt…before your friend gets his first taste of the games on the arena sand.” He headed back down the stairs to the training arena.

  Galen’s shoulders drooped as he returned to Adela and the horses. Time to tell her they’d be riding east instead of north to take her home.

  Her mouth curved down. “You didn’t find him.”

  “No, but I know which way they took him.” She handed him Astrelo’s reins, and he mounted. “Vindonissa or on to Brigantium. They’re a day ahead of us on horseback, so we should catch up in time to keep Otto from fighting.”

  He pushed back the lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “I’m sorry I can’t take you home yet.”

  Her hand flicked his apology away. “That’s not your fault. We need to get him back, and I want to see them punished. I’ll gladly ride as far as it takes for that.”

  The fire in her eyes proclaimed the truth of her words.

  “Then we stay on the hunt.” He reined his horse toward the town market. “Time to stock up on supplies. We may have three days ahead of us before we find him.” His elbow brushed the lump that was the purse holding Otto’s horse money. That would be replaced by another money belt before it tempted a thief. “Good thing you can ride horses with the best, and good thing we have two of the best horses.” He squared his shoulders. “We’ll find him. Otto will be riding his bay after we get him back. I’ll get you a horse that’s more your size for the ride home.”

  Adela’s face was grim, and he smiled to lighten her mood, even though he didn’t feel like it. “Don’t assume the worst, Adela. God will help us find him. As long as we’re still hunting, there’s hope.”

  South of Augusta Raurica, Day 4

  The bed of the mule cart sat on the axle so every rock and rut jostled Otto into the sidewall. Being on Gundahar’s horse again would be almost luxurious, even with his hands tied behind his back. The prospect of four or five more days in the cart, shackled hand and foot, gnawed at him. Ropes he might loosen enough to escape. Iron bands connected by chains: there was no hope of freedom without the key.

  He eyed the man who’d bought him, who rode some distance ahead of the cart. The key hung on a chain around his neck. But how to get it from him when he kept his distance?

  It didn’t help that Otto shared the misery with two other men. One was older, maybe as old as his father. The other looked close to his own age. While the older man’s glowering eyes warned him to keep his distance, the younger mostly stared at the floor of the cart.

  Otto leaned in to catch the younger man’s attention. “What’s your name?”

  The slender youth raised his head. Eyes shadowed with despair stared at him. “Baldwin.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “My clan and another of my tribe fought.” He raised his head, and pride washed the despair from his eyes. “I made my first kill in battle.” His eyes dulled. “But I was hit from behind, and when I awoke, I was in these chains. They should have killed me, not sold me.” He shook his wrists, making the chains rattle. His head tipped toward the older man. “Lothar and I deserve an honorable death as warriors, not slaves.”

  The rider reined in and let the cart pull up beside him. He leaned in and slapped Otto on the side of his head. Otto’s eyes threw daggers, and that drew a twisted grin from the rider.

  “Stop talking. You don’t want to know too much about the men you’ll fight to kill.”

  Baldwin squared his shoulders. “Killing and dying don’t bother me. I’m a warrior of the Bear Clan of the Suebi, and I welcome battle.”

  Otto said nothing. He was no warrior. Battle meant either killing or dying, and he didn’t want to do either.

  Chapter 11: Catching Up

  Vindonissa, Day 4

  The sun was low in the sky when Galen and Adela rode into Vindonissa. He’d balanced trotting and walking to cover the distance without overtiring the horses. The gray walls of the old legion fortress rose in the over-grown training field to their left as they approached the amphitheater. Shrubs grew in the arched entryways that once welcomed soldiers wanting to relax watching bloodshed from a distance instead of shedding blood with a sword in their own hands.

  But hope deferred was not hope defeated. One day until they found Otto would have been good, but three days was not too long.

  Galen shrugged. “It looks like Scaurus was right that the games ended here when the legion moved out.”

  He swung Astrelo back toward the street of shops they’d passed. “But at least we can get a hot meal before we head for Brigantium. A taberna should still be open. Then we’ll spend the night here.”

  The tantalizing aroma of a savory stew hovered around the second shop on the left. Galen turned aside. Several tables inside were surrounded by patrons, but two stools stood vacant at the counter fronting the street.

  He slipped off Astrelo. “Hand me your reins.” Adela slid off Otto’s bay and gave them to him. He tied them to a loop at the front of Astrelo’s saddle. Astrelo was as good as any hitching rail once his reins were dropped.

  He sat and patted the second stool. As Adela seated herself, the proprietor sauntered over. “Salve. What can I get you?”

  Galen leaned on the counter. Time to gather information. “Two bowls of that stew that smells so good and some bread. And maybe some advice. We’re looking for someone who would have come through here yesterday.”

  The proprietor’s mouth pulled up at the corner. “My stew is famous for many miles. Many stop to taste it.”

  Galen closed his eyes and inhaled. “Just the smell of it tells me why that would be. Even someone passing in a hurry would be tempted to stop. And these might have been in a hurry.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “Three, maybe four men. One about this tall.” He reached up to show where Otto’s head would have been. “The others are…” He raised his eyebrows at Adela with the question.

  She held out her hand at Gundahar’s height. “Their leader is this tall. Dirty. Stinky breath. Scraggly beard. Cheating eyes.”

  The proprietor’s eyebrows rose. “Cheating eyes?”

  Adela squared her shoulders. “Yes.” Her mouth turned down.

  Galen placed his hand on her arm to quiet her. “Deceiving eyes might be a better description. The tall one is my friend, and the scraggly one kidnapped him in Argentorate. We’re trying to catch up and get him back.”

  The proprietor’s mouth turned down. “I haven’t seen the giant, but the scraggly one…maybe. But there were only two, not four.”

  Galen rubbed his chin. “That might still be them if they were keeping my friend out of sight.”

  “The scraggly one asked when the arena closed, so maybe. They ate, then rode out toward Brigantium.”

  Galen didn’t even try to stop the smile those words spawned. They’d found Otto, and they were still only a day behind. “So will we tomorrow. Now it’s time for some of the best stew for miles.”

  The proprietor’s frown flipped into a smile before he left to fetch their food.

  Galen grinned at Adela. “Tonight, a good dinner and a peaceful night’s sleep. There will still be a garrison stationed in the fortress, so there should be a safe campground there.”

  A boy placed two steaming bowls in front of them. Galen dipped his spoon in and raised it in a salute. “Two more days, and we rescue Otto in Brigantium.”

  Day 6

  A few miles west of Brigantium, the road dropped out of the hills to the shore of L
acus Brigantinus. Fifty feet from the shore, a bireme cut through the water. The perfectly synchronized oars dipped and rose as they propelled the ship forward. Water drops fell from the oar tips, sparkling in the sun.

  Galen glanced over his shoulder at Adela’s gasp.

  Her face lit up like a child opening a present. “I’ve never seen such a thing! It’s so beautiful!”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ve never seen one before myself. As to beautiful...I’d say so, but that’s a Roman warship. Not everyone on the lake wants to see one of those.”

  Adela turned a dazzling smile on him. “At least the Romans should like it. You said Roman warriors weren’t dangerous for Romans.”

  Galen rubbed his lower lip. “They aren’t, as long as Rome doesn’t decide you’re breaking Roman law. If it does…” He shrugged. For as long as he could remember, his faith made him guilty of a capital crime in the eyes of Rome.

  Brigantium

  Astrelo danced as they entered Brigantium, as if he sensed Galen’s excitement. Somewhere in that town, Otto was waiting to be rescued. Galen guided his stallion past the harbor, where merchant and navy ships shared the piers. A stone building sat just above the lakeshore and at the end of the market street. The sentry standing by the door in battle dress marked it as the garrison. The inscription marked it as the headquarters of the fleet.

  Another stone structure housed the bath. Scraping away three days of grime, a slow soak in hot water, a good swim in the cold pool―it would be the perfect interlude before starting home.

  But first, he needed to find Otto, and the best place to start was a taberna.