by Glover, Nhys
Lara nodded. She knew this, but she couldn’t destroy the little grains of hope that still mustered in her heart. If he can kill for me, couldn’t he forgive me?
‘Please be careful. If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do. You’re everything to me.’
‘That’s good to hear, Sweet. But don’t worry about me; I’ve got something worth fighting for now. It’s hard to kill a man like that.’
She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. ‘I’ve got something worth fighting for, too. Don’t expect me to huddle in the corner, if I see a way I can help.’
‘Sweetling, please don’t do anything that’ll distract my focus.’
‘I won’t. But I won’t sit by and watch you die, either.’
He kissed her forehead. ‘Sometimes I miss my little mouse.’
Chapter Twenty Seven
19 October 79 CE
Braxus had come in only a few hours before dawn, frozen and soaked to the skin. Vali couldn’t help grinning at the sight of him. He’d reminded him of a tomcat that had been doused with water. Indignant, furious and miserable.
Once he’d changed into dry clothes, he’d joined Vali and Gaius beside their fire at the far end of the Great Room. The slaves were still abed, but restless, knowing something was afoot.
Then, for the next hour they made their quiet plans. When each finally found their bed, it was with the sure knowledge that there would be no sleep until after this new day was done.
‘Been thinking,’ Menolus said as he started on the warm grain broth the inn’s kitchen slave had offered him. ‘I think we’ll attract too much attention with this plan. And once we lose the element of surprise, the military will be brought in to keep the peace.’
‘It’s my estate. I have the right to remove anyone I want from it, by any means,’ the short tribune said arrogantly.
‘Not when the Svear has a document saying the opposite, from the head of your paterfamilias. No, this has to be done with stealth. No one should know where we’re going and what we plan to do. Not even your thugs, Biraci. Get them to meet us at the river junction at noon. That’ll give us time to check the situation, see if we can locate Braxus.
‘And tribune, you get a horse and let it be known you’re heading west for your new post at Isca. That way you won’t be connected to what happens.’
Publius nodded thoughtfully. ‘Better plan. Alcohol made us careless last night. You’re right. I can’t be seen to be part of this. I’ll ride out first, toward the west, and then cut back around. Meet you two a few miles out of town to the east.’
‘I’ll tell the men where to meet us at noon and by then we should be right to head out?’ Biraci said, checking with Menolus to see he was in agreement. In the light of day, Rat-face looked far less enthusiastic about the prospects of getting his estate back.
Menolus nodded, just before he upended the last of his bowl of breakfast into his mouth. It filled his belly and was hot. He couldn’t expect much more from a place like this. He couldn’t wait to be gone from this arse end of the world.
‘That’s it, up there. There’s a couple of outbuildings behind the main house. Most of the slaves will be back there, threshing grain, out of the weather,’ Biraci said quietly. They had moved off the gravel road and were walking their horses just inside the tree line.
‘Any sign of your friend?’ Publius asked, scanning the depressing hovel ahead of them. It hardly warranted the name Bibulus. His paterfamilias was demeaned just by calling it theirs.
‘Yes, look.’ Menolus pointed to a shadow moving among the trees, not more than twenty feet away. Then a tall man with a scarred face stepped out from the cover and approached them. He looked wet and dangerous. Publius tightened his hand on the sheathed sword at his hip.
‘Menolus. It’s good to see you. Thought you went down in that storm.’ The man spoke to the grizzly mercenary, while he sized up his companions. Did his eyes glint evilly when they came to rest on him? Surely not. He’d never seen the man in his life.
‘Have you got our quarry in sight?’
‘Yes. He’s alone in the threshing barn right now. He’s sent the slaves out collecting stones. I think they’re building a wall or such. The women are inside. I was considering taking him on alone, but if you’re here, it’ll be that much easier.’
‘How do we get there without being seen?’ Publius demanded.
Did the stranger just stiffen, as if in disgust?
‘Come around from the forest on foot, until we reach the back of the property. No one will see us. We can be in, take the giant by surprise, dispatch him, and then collect the girl.’
‘What about my men?’ Biraci said; his face bleached white with fear. His nose was the only part of him with colour, and it was beat red from cold and overindulgence.
‘You have men nearby?’
‘Back at the junction of the rivers. They’re meeting me there at noon.’
‘Forget it. By then the slaves will be back. The time is now. With the four of us, the bastard doesn’t have a chance. He won’t even be armed.’
Biraci looked at Menolus for direction, and the aging fighter nodded his head. Publius agreed, although no one seemed to care what he thought. That irritated him. Who were these men to discount him just because he was young? His patrician blood made him twice the man they were. When this was over he’d demand their respect.
‘I…I’ll stay with the horses…’ Biraci said, nervously.
Braxus eyed him with distain. ‘Fine. Stay here and keep the horses quiet. We don’t want them attracting attention.’
Then the three set out, skirting the edge of the forest until they reached the back of the property. It was still morning, but the heavy clouds and intermittent rain made it feel earlier than it was. The estate looked deserted. Not even a chicken wandered the yard.
In very little time, they’d cut down behind the furthest outbuilding. This was where the animals were kept. Publius could hear horses moving around inside.
Then they ran from one building to the next, silently, stealthily. They could hear movement inside this building, too. Someone was dragging bags of grain around, humming softly to himself.
The scar-faced Braxus was the first through the door, closely followed by his partner, Menolus. Publius was the last in, sure that they had surprise on their side. The rush of excited anticipation left him breathless. This was what he’d needed. This was what he’d been looking for since joining the army: the blood rush, the heightened senses, and the anticipation of the kill.
What he saw in the darkened grain shed brought him up short. Vali, bigger and more muscular then he remembered him being, stood on the far side of the room, hands on hips, a nasty smile on his face. He didn’t seem in the least surprised to see three armed men coming into his barn, unannounced.
Behind Publius, Menolus closed the barn door and put a beam across it. There was no way the blonde upstart, who thought himself good enough for his sister, was getting out of here alive. And no one was getting in here to help him. It was all going perfectly to plan. He felt a triumphant smile spreading across his face.
Except that Vali didn’t look surprised or worried.
‘He’s mine,’ Braxus said, drawing his sword. But instead of challenging Vali, the scar-faced man was turning with grim satisfaction toward him. ‘Draw your sword, scum, and prepare to die.’
‘Wh…what do you mean? This isn’t the plan! Menolus… with me!’ Publius glanced behind him, to see the grizzled fighter with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his lips.
‘Not your plan, cur, but ours. Draw your sword and at least try to be a man.’ Menolus said with some satisfaction.
‘Or is torturing little girls the full extent of your bravery?’ Braxus said, assuming the fighter’s stance, his sword thrown from one hand to the other and back again. The move was as hypnotic as a snake’s swaying body.
‘What are you talking about? We’re here to get my sister and kill the …�
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‘Our sister is just fine where she is,’ Gaius said, as he stepped out from behind a pile of grain bags. He had his sword drawn, and for the first time, actually looked like a warrior. Publius breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was one man on his side here. With his brother, he now had at least a chance. It didn’t enter his mind to wonder what his brother was doing here, so far from his post in Germania.
‘Gaius. I’m glad to see you!’
‘You won’t be. Did you think I’d let you send Anniana back to mother so she could be sold to the Emperor?’
‘What? What? Don’t be absurd. It’s hardly selling her. It will be an advantageous marriage. We’ll be the brothers-in-laws to a god. We’ll have all the wealth and glory we’ve ever wanted. It’s what we deserve!’ He couldn’t keep his excitement from his voice. But there was no answering enthusiasm from Gaius, who simply watched him with cold, deadly eyes.
‘What you deserve is a slow and painful death,’ Vali said. He too crossed his arms over his broad chest. He seemed pleased by what was happening, as if he’d planned it all along.
‘You betrayed us?’ Publius said to Braxus, finally starting to see what was happening here. He should have known better than to trust this ugly bastard who had so fortuitously appeared at their side in the woods. He had traitor written all over him. Why hadn’t he seen that before?
‘Betray you? That would imply that I was ever with you. I might be betraying my patron, your mother, but I don’t really care. I have more important loyalties.
‘See, what little bullies like you haven’t got the brains to realise is that when you hurt those weaker than yourself, sooner or later there always comes a day when your victims are avenged. There always comes a day when you become the weaker one… and someone else gets to laugh while you writhe in agony. For you, Publius Annius Bibulus, that day is today.’ The expression in the dark eyes was furiously exultant. Publius recognised that look. He’d felt that way only moments before, when he thought he was about to be part of Vali’s death.
Now he fully realised what was happening. This scar-faced man meant to see him dead. Was glorying in the anticipation of it.
‘Gaius, with me!’ Publius said, drawing his sword and backing toward his brother so they could form a united front.
‘Never with you, little brother. Now fight like a man. You’re lucky you’re being given at least this chance to die with honour.’ His brother’s voice was cold and expressionless. Like a stranger’s.
‘But I’m your blood,’ he said, shocked to the core by Gaius’ stand.
He knew they’d never been close. He knew he’d always found his older brother an annoying inconvenience, stepping in to save Anniana from his little games. But that didn’t mean Gaius would side with these low-lives against him, surely.
Gaius barked out a humourless laugh. ‘And so is Anniana. Did you ever think that she was your blood when you hurt and humiliated her for all those years?’
‘But I was just a child… I didn’t mean…’
‘You didn’t mean to sodomize an innocent little girl?’ Braxus yelled; his fury no longer under control.
‘She… was nobody… just a slave. And I never did it again. It hurt too much…’
He knew he’d said the wrong thing before the words were out of his mouth. The cold air grew even icier.
‘Enough talk, slug. Come at me, now, or I’ll cut you down where you stand!’ Braxus snarled.
‘But what’s she to you? Why do you care what I did?’
‘That slave is my woman. No one hurts my woman.’ For a moment the scarred man looked almost astonished by his own words. Then his face became stone again. He leapt forward.
Publius had just enough time to get his sword up to block the first blow. It reverberated down his arm painfully. But the second cut was on him too fast. It took him in the side, just below his chest armour. The agony was shocking. He doubled over, his defences gone in an instant. His cold hand pressed to his side, and felt hot blood.
It was his own blood, pumping out of him like a garish fountain.
He studied it in astonishment. How could this be happening? Their plan had been so perfect. He was going to be the Emperor’s favourite. He was going to have anything he wanted.
Publius’ legs gave way under him, and he landed with his face in the dirt. He tried to spit it out, but a coppery tang was overpowering the taste of dirt for him now. A dark stain was forming on the ground next to his eye. It smelled like blood. The pain in his side was excruciating. He moaned, trying to hold the pain in, trying to hold his life’s blood back.
Braxus stood above him, eyes like flints, sword hand trembling. ‘How does it feel, worm? Are you going to plead with me to stop? Please, plead with me to stop. I’d like that!’
‘Please… don’t kill me…’ Publius blubbered, through the snot and blood, trying to find the energy to crawl away from his attacker. His arms and legs wouldn’t respond.
‘I wish Ninia was here to see you beg, but she’d just as likely to ask me to be merciful. And I don’t feel like being merciful, not with filth like you.’
Publius could hardly make sense of his words, the overwhelming agony occupied too much of his focus. He felt panic rising for the first time, as he realised he was really going to die. How could he die? It seemed impossible. He was never meant to die!
He tried to see his brother. Surely Gaius would come to his aid now. He wouldn’t let this madman kill his blood…
Braxus kicked him in the side where the wound bled freely. He didn’t think it was possible to feel more pain than he was already experiencing. But he did. It was red-hot agony, and he screamed.
Braxus’ smile above him was wolfish.
‘Enough, end it!’ Gaius said, from somewhere out of sight. He sounded cold. It was the voice of a stranger.
The killing blow was swift. The darkness, absolute.
Lara stood with her head pressed against the threshing barn door, hearing everything that went on. Ninia stood at her side, trembling, her face as white as bone. When Publius called Ninia a nobody… a slave… as if she didn’t count for anything, Lara had reached out and taken her friend’s hand. Together they stood vigil until the very end.
It was an execution. That was the only word for it. And though her brother had deserved what he got, it didn’t take away the shock and horror of it. It didn’t matter that he was a sadistic brute, and that he’d hurt Ninia, had wanted to kill Vali. Her brother had just died in there, painfully, and in utter humiliation.
‘He deserved it,’ Ninia said, her voice cold but wobbly.
‘I know. I know. I’m glad it was Braxus who… did it.’
Ninia looked at her mistress, her friend. She nodded. ‘I am too. If I couldn’t do it, then I’m glad it was my… Brax.’
There was movement on the other side of the door. The heavy bar was being removed. The girls stepped back and waited. One by one the men came out. Gaius came first, to wrap his arms around his sister; then Braxus, to hug Ninia. Menolus was next. Then finally Vali appeared, his face a stony mask.
‘Are the slaves back?’ Vali asked.
Lara shook her head and left her brother’s embrace to go to her husband. ‘They’ll bring the body here?’
‘No. They’ll use the hole they dug in the woods for Biraci, then they’ll come back for … the tribune.’ Vali didn’t want to call the body inside the shed her brother. He didn’t want to give it a name. She understood that.
‘Here they come!’ Ninia said, looking down toward the gravel road that led up to the villa. Sure enough, the male slaves were returning, blood stains dark against the paleness of their tunics.
Lara couldn’t watch the rest. She didn’t want to see her brother carried away and dropped into an unmarked grave. Vali seemed to sense her feelings, because he started to draw her away, back toward the house.
‘I need something hot to drink, wife. Will you prepare something for us all?’ he asked her.
Lara nodded. It was something to do. She needed something to occupy her mind. If she thought too long on the murder… the execution… she’d break down and cry. And that would make her seem weak or a traitor to her men.
Ninia hurried inside with her.
Later that night, the atmosphere around the fire was hushed and sombre. They should have been celebrating their freedom, their revenge. But instead, there was heaviness in the air. Two men had died today. They had deserved their deaths, but they had died at the hands of the people in this room. To kill, to see others kill, was a sobering experience. Even the children picked up on the atmosphere, and sat in silence.
Menolus looked around him. These people had made him welcome, had accepted him as they had Braxus. It was an uncomfortable, yet pleasing feeling.
He looked over at his partner, his arm around the young, dark girl. Protective, the gesture was protective and natural. The badly scarred man looked oddly content. This wasn’t the drunken fool with a willing maid on either arm, living wildly, uncaring of the future. Neither was he the tense professional, ever alert and ready to shed blood, his anger always boiling beneath the surface. This man was different. This man was a stranger. He was rooted. Somehow the seed blowing aimlessly in the wind had taken root, here in this cold, wet and uninviting country.
Did he know he wasn’t leaving here with him yet? Did he realise that the little woman at his side had now chained him to her more securely than slavery ever had?
How did he feel about losing his partner, his friend -- as Braxus had called him? The old Braxus would never have called him friend. Would never have allowed such weakness. But friends they were. Menolus remembered how he’d felt when he thought Braxus was dead. He’d lost his drive, his desire to go on. It had all seemed meaningless. Even when he’d picked up the trail, it didn’t feel the same anymore. It just felt lonely. He’d become an aging man with nothing but the job to fill his time.