Pelonius, Marcus, Septimus, and Paulus stood at attention off to one side, witnesses to her shame. Karan, fortunately, was nowhere to be seen.
Tiberius began to pace back and forth, holding his hands at his sides, tightly clenched, while shaking his head in disbelief. “You know very well that Hercules could have accidentally injured or killed someone or — worse in your own mind, I’m sure — he could have been hurt or killed himself. As it was he totally destroyed everything in the peristylium and put the entire castrum into chaos. The soldiers on duty thought we were under attack, and the entire legion was at arms and heading for The Wall by the time Pelonius was able to spread the word that it was a false alarm. That speaks well for their reaction time, but made me, Caesar, look like a weak fool who can’t even control my own daughter!”
“I’m so sorry, Father,” she said meekly. “I didn’t meant to—”
“You never mean to, Valeria!” Tiberius was all but shouting now. He clamped his mouth shut for a moment, then went on in a slightly calmer voice. “But that is the problem, isn’t it? You never mean to, but you never take even a moment to contemplate the consequences of your actions. Your pranks in the palace, your willfulness to go where you please and do what you please…these things we overlooked as youthful folly while we were in Rome.” He held his arms up, gesturing around them. “Are we in Rome now? Are we? Answer me!”
“No, Father,” she whispered.
With a look toward the men who stood stiffly at the side of the room, Tiberius went on. “We also overlooked those follies because I knew that you were protected by the best men Rome has to offer. As long as your mother and I knew you were safe, and as long as you didn’t engage in anything scandalous, we were content to let you have your way. But running around alone in the forest, anything could have happened to you. Anything!”
Risking further verbal wrath, she said, “But I wasn’t alone. I was with Karan.”
Tiberius stopped his pacing and turned to stare at her, and her mother raised her eyes, a look of terrible disappointment on her face. “What do you mean,” Tiberius said slowly, “you were with Karan?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark shadow cloud over Paulus’s otherwise expressionless face, and Septimus sucked in his lower lip and began to chew on it. Pelonius and Marcus continued to stand like statues.
Paulus and Septimus must not have spoken of what they saw in the clearing. In one way, she was relieved. In another, it deepened the sense of guilt that was building in her. “I…I was so bored, I wanted to get away for a while, and—”
Tiberius cut her off. “I repeat: what were you doing with Karan?”
“I was just watching him train,” she replied, trying to muster some righteous indignation. “I was just standing at the edge of this clearing where he goes every night. I was only curious what he does there. All he does is train with his sword by himself. That’s all.”
Shifting his gaze to Paulus and Septimus, Tiberius said, “Is this true? That you found her watching Karan training?”
Valeria felt the world drop away. She knew both of them would lie to protect her (even Paulus, upset as he was), but if Tiberius ever found out they had done so, his trust and faith in them would be forever shattered.
Both men stood stock still as an uncomfortable silence fell upon the room.
“No,” Valeria whispered just as Paulus made to answer. She would never be able to live with herself if she let either of them take such a terrible burden upon themselves. “It’s not true, Father.”
“Valeria,” Paulus begged, shaking his head, “let me—”
“Silence,” Tiberius whispered, and Paulus clamped his mouth shut. Septimus closed his eyes, while Octavia stared openmouthed at her daughter. Turning back to Valeria, Tiberius said, “Go on.”
“They caught me kissing him,” Valeria managed through a throat that felt as if someone were strangling her. “But that’s all. We didn’t do anything else, I swear before all the gods, and it wasn’t his fault, either, I was just curious and he’d never been kissed by anyone, and after such a terrible life, I thought…” She paused as her breath caught.
“No, daughter, you didn’t think at all,” her mother said quietly.
Tiberius closed his eyes, lowered his head and shook it slowly. “Oh, gods.” With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes and turned to Pelonius. “The legion is to form ranks for punishment the first hour after sunrise.”
Valeria’s eyes flew wide, thinking she was going to be flogged before the entire legion. “What? What do you mean?”
Ignoring her, Tiberius went on, “Karan is to receive ten lashes. Give the whip to Haakon.”
“No, Father,” Valeria cried, “you can’t! Karan did nothing! He didn’t even know I was going to kiss him! It was all my fault!”
“That much is true,” Tiberius agreed in a tired voice. “But you leave me no choice. Someone has to take the blame for the fiasco last night, not to mention your indiscretion. I know those in this room will never speak a word of what truly happened. But the fact that you snuck outside on your own at night after creating a diversion that threw the castrum into chaos, and that Karan was really the only one out there, other than soldiers at the followers camp, what conclusion do you think the men will draw?”
“What business is it of theirs?” Valeria said angrily.
“It has nothing to do with whether it’s their business,” Tiberius grated. “It has to do with their respect for their leader. What would the men think if Caesar’s daughter, besotted with a foreigner, was caught in a forbidden midnight tryst in the jungle, and I let such a transgression go unpunished? How would that reflect upon me, not only as your father, but as the head of our family and as the Emperor?” He stepped closer, the veins on his temple throbbing. “I cannot lead these men, nor the Empire, if I don’t have their respect. And someone must take the consequences of what’s happened tonight. Unfortunately, it has to be Karan. While no one need say as much, if he is punished the unspoken understanding will be that he was responsible for seducing an innocent girl and causing tonight’s uproar to cover it up.”
“No!” Valeria was in tears now. Throwing herself at her father, she gripped his tunic in her hands. “Please, Father, you can’t! He did nothing wrong and doesn’t deserve to be punished!”
“No,” Tiberius agreed, prying her hands free, “he doesn’t. But you don’t understand: what you’ll witness tomorrow morning isn’t his punishment.” He looked at her with eyes that had lost all their anger, and were now pools of sadness. “It’s yours.”
***
An hour after sunrise the following morning, the entire legion was assembled and standing at attention on the training field, facing the platform from which Valeria had so often watched the men train. One detail of the training ground that she had never really noticed before was a large post, well over the height of a man, that had been set in the ground not far from the platform. She had never really taken notice of it before, because Pelonius and Marcus had gone to significant pains to make sure she was never present to watch punishment given to the men.
But this time was different. Valeria stood between her father and mother, with Pelonius, Marcus, Septimus, and Paulus standing at attention before the platform. Haakon, an unhappy look on his face, stood near the whipping post, a flagrum, or short whip, held loosely in one hand. The flagrum consisted of a handle, to which were fastened several thongs of leather. It was a brutal weapon that could flay most of the skin from a man’s back in all but a few lashes.
Karan stood near the platform, a puzzled look on his face. It was then that Valeria realized that no one had told him what was to happen, only that the legion was to assemble this morning. As sort of an honorary legionary, he of course had come.
Run, Karan! The thought echoed in Valeria’s mind with such force that she thought her head might explode, but her silent warning did not reach him.
At last, Tiberius turned to the boy. “Karan, it is with the gre
atest of regret that I must ask you this: were you alone with my daughter last night?”
“Yes, Caesar.”
“And did you…touch her?”
“Yes, Caesar.”
“Did you know this was forbidden?”
Karan looked at Valeria, and her heart twisted with grief at the look of surprised innocence on his face. “No, Caesar.”
“I know you are not from our lands, but ignorance of the law cannot be used as an excuse. I have no choice but to render punishment upon you, as much as it pains me to do so.”
“Seize him,” Marcus ordered.
Two legionaries stepped forward and took Karan by the arms. Or, rather, tried to. The first one went down to his knees, choking, after Karan jabbed a fist at his throat. The second soldier screamed as Karan snatched the man’s wrist, twisting and bending it back before forcing the man face-first into the sand.
More soldiers sprang forward, intent on capturing him, when Valeria cried, “Stop!”
Uncertain, the men did as she asked, turning with questioning gazes to Tiberius.
“I need no escort to the whipping post…master,” Karan said in a dead voice. “I know it all too well.”
Pushing through the soldiers who had surrounded him, he made his way to Haakon.
“I am sorry, Ghost,” the barbarian said quietly. “They picked me for this miserable duty. It wasn’t my choice.”
“Hold nothing back,” Karan said through gritted teeth as he removed his cloak and tunic to bare the patchwork of scars on his back. Folding his clothes, he set them down in the sand at what he judged was a safe distance from any spattering blood, then carefully placed his sword and dagger upon the pile. Then he went to the post and wrapped his arms around it, embracing it like some long lost love.
Valeria’s cheeks were wet with tears as Haakon backed up, swinging the short whip in his hand, getting a feel for the weapon. “Please, Father,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I’ll never do anything bad again. I swear to you.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve heard you say that?” His own whisper of the bitter truth cut her just as deep as might Karan’s sword. “And how many times you’ve broken those same vows?”
Haakon turned to Tiberius and nodded that he was ready, and Valeria squeezed her eyes shut.
“Open your eyes,” her mother, who stood on her other side, hissed. “You will watch this. Every moment of it. You owe the poor boy that much.”
With a muffled gasp, Valeria did as she was told. A Roman woman must do her duty, a small, bitter voice in the back of her mind whispered.
Tiberius nodded to Pelonius, who barked, “Ten lashes. Begin.”
With a smooth movement, Haakon lunged toward Karan as his arm snapped the whip forward, the thongs whistling through the air before they struck.
Crack!
Half a dozen crimson streaks appeared in Karan’s back, but he barely flinched.
Crack!
Blood sprayed from the wounds, along with a few bits of flesh.
“No, no, no,” Valeria whispered, shaking her head as tears poured from her eyes.
Tiberius leaned over. “Be silent or I’ll add ten more lashes to his punishment.”
Nodding in a jerky motion, Valeria clamped her hand over her mouth, physically holding her lips shut to keep from crying out for it to stop, while biting her tongue so hard it bled.
In slow succession, Haakon landed the short whip on Karan’s back eight more times while the assembled legion looked on. Karan never made a sound, although by the tenth lash his legs were trembling and his fingers were digging into the post so hard that he had torn half his fingernails loose, with blood seeping from the quick.
Finished, Haakon turned back to Tiberius. His face and the front of his armor were specked with droplets of blood. “Ten lashes, sir.”
With a nod, Tiberius said, “Enough. The punishment is concluded. Release him.”
Karan, of course, did not need to be released from the post, for he had never been bound to it. But he still clung to it just the same, his entire body now quivering.
To Pelonius, Tiberius said in a quieter voice, “Release the legion from duty for the day. And have the physicians do what they can for Karan.” Then he turned and stormed off the platform, followed by Octavia, who dragged Valeria by the arm.
“Do you need help, Ghost?” Haakon said in a soft voice as he stepped closer to the boy he had just whipped.
“I…I am fine, but you have my thanks.” Karan reluctantly let go of the post and stepped away, then almost collapsed to the ground. Haakon reached for him, but Karan pushed his hands away.
“Come on, Karan,” Septimus said as he came forward. “I’ll take you to the physicians.”
Karan looked at him with veiled, alien eyes. “I have no need of your medicine,” he rasped. Unable to bend over, his back muscles having been decimated, he slowly collapsed to his knees beside his clothes. Gathering them and his weapons in trembling, bleeding hands, he clutched them to his chest. Then, his face contorting with the effort, he struggled to his feet. In a staggering, shambling walk, ignoring the stares and murmurs from the soldiers who the day before had considered him a comrade, he slowly made his way through the castrum toward the sea.
***
Gritting his teeth from the pain, Karan managed to make his way to the gate that opened toward The Wall and the sea. Ignoring the ever-growing structure of stone, he headed for the beach to the left, where he had spent many a day swimming and spearing fish with bow and arrow to help feed the legion.
He reached the wet sand just as his tattered back muscles finally gave way. Collapsing to his knees, his clothes and even his precious sword spilled to the sand. He looked at his bleeding fingers and their torn and ripped nails. One by one, he put those that he knew would only fall off later between his teeth and yanked them out, stifling a scream each time.
Looking across the deadly waters at the dark mountains forever spewing smoke and sometimes fire into the sky, tears welled in his eyes. Swords were not permitted to cry, of course. Such undignified behavior was not tolerated by the Masters in the playthings they bred for combat. But he felt so alone, more alone than he had ever been in his life. The pain of it easily eclipsed the physical agony he had endured from the lash, and it was finally more than he could bear. Even when he had been a creature of the Masters, he had never been alone. His fellow Swords were his company, as were the other slaves who served their overlords. Even the Masters themselves, cruel though they might be, were beings that he understood, in whose shadow he had always been content to stand. They could never be considered companions, let alone friends, but in that world across the sea, he had never known loneliness.
Coming here, either by chance or destiny, had landed him in this world, which after a time he had come to hope would be a different place, one not ruled by darkness and misery. He knew that it was a world apart when he had first laid eyes on Valeria. He had seen other females after landing here, of course, but none such as she. Valeria had shone like the sun in the night, bewitching him before they had exchanged a word.
Then she had betrayed him. He did not understand why, or really even how. But she must have known that for him to touch her was forbidden, and yet she had still drawn him into her arms. A part of him wanted to hate her, but he couldn’t. Hate was a burden too heavy for his heart. Valeria had no doubt wronged him, but he knew from the tears she shed as he was punished that she felt for him, that the pain he endured for her sake caused pain to her, as well. The warriors he had come to know so well had also favored him with sorrowful looks. Even Caesar appeared sad, as if he were doing something he must do, not something he wished to do.
Karan sighed. None of it mattered. He was again alone, just as alone as he had been in the middle of the storm-tossed sea as he had unknowingly crawled his way to these shores.
At last, he again forced himself to his feet. Removing the rest of his garments a
nd sandals with clumsy, pain-wracked hands, he stepped forward, naked, into the surf. Once he was waist deep in the water, he took a deep breath, girding himself for the pain that awaited him.
Then he dove into the sea, screaming as the healing salt water flowed over his wounds.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The weeks that followed were a living nightmare for Valeria. She was confined to the Emperor’s quarters, allowed to leave under heavy escort only to take Hercules out for exercise and to allow him to hunt, for it was never a good idea to keep a hexatiger cooped up for very long, and potentially disastrous to let him go hungry. Four praetorians, none of them from her bodyguard, and all of whom met any questions from her with stony silence, stood at the entrance to her quarters day and night. While her mother spent a considerable amount of time with her, much of the time Valeria found herself alone, save for Hercules. They had at least one meal a day together as a family, but little conversation was to be had, for her father was tight-lipped about any preparations to face the Masters, and her mother’s contribution was largely news and gossip from Rome that held little interest for Valeria. The food she mindlessly put in her mouth, and the delicacies that anyone else in the Empire would consider exquisite tasted like ash on her tongue.
Pelonius no longer served as her tutor, and had been replaced by her father with an old Greek who was steeped in the learning drawn from bygone ages but had not the least curiosity about the world that surrounded them now. While she wished the old man no ill will personally, as a teacher she despised him. The greater misfortune was that she had to spend at least four hours each day enduring his droning pontifications.
She had a very short list of allowed visitors, most of whom only rarely stopped by, and only then for occasional perfunctory hellos. Pelonius, of course. Marcus, Septimus, and the other members of her guard (all of whom had now been given positions in Legio Hercules) had come by. Even Haakon the Barbarian had made occasional appearances, which had lifted her spirits more than any other by virtue of his outrageous personality. A shallow, vain man he might be, but he had certainly kept her entertained during his visits.
Vulcan's Fury: The Dark Lands Page 19