by London Casey
“But, my lady—he may need my assistance—”
“I said go. I don’t want you underfoot. You could get hurt.” She grabbed Elizabeth by the wrist, and dragged her out. “My idiot of a man has talked your husband into an insane scheme.”
That was all she would say. From the way she stomped outside, heading for the gate, Elizabeth figured what she wanted to say couldn’t be said politely.
They walked past the guards, who looked like they were hesitant to stop Appia. Elizabeth didn’t blame them.
Halfway up the hill, they heard loud voices and cheers. The source of the shouting became obvious as they reached the top of the steep path; soldiers crowded the doorway of a large square building, and whatever they watched had them making bets with each other, yelling over to others for opinions. It looked like any group of men at any sporting event.
The soldiers closest to Appia moved out of her way double time, some of them grabbing the man in front of him. A path cleared faster than Elizabeth expected, since all their focus was on whatever craziness Kane and Marius had come up with.
She found out as soon as she stepped through the doorway.
Both of them were stripped to the waist, sweat pouring off them. Kane held a sword in his left hand, and he lunged at a battered shield Marius held up in front of him. Each time the sword landed a blow, the men crowding the perimeter of the yard cheered, and money changed hands.
Kane looked like an ancient warrior, every muscle defined by sweat and movement. And his movement was graceful, deliberate but smooth as he wielded the heavy sword. Her hands itched for something to draw with, to capture his image in a way she had never seen him before. He was so focused he didn’t acknowledge the crowd of soldiers, or the sudden silence at their arrival.
Marius laughed like a fiend, hopping on his good leg, his left foot dragging in the dirt. A strangled sound came out of Appia. Elizabeth glanced over at her, and backed away. The woman looked like she was ready to explode.
“Lucius Marius Rutilus!” He froze, his back to her. “What in the name of all the gods do you think you’re doing?”
Kane moved forward, one hand reaching out to him—and Elizabeth screamed when a dagger flashed through the air.
He leaped back, and it buried itself in the ground where he just stood.
“Villius.” Marius spoke his name, his deadly quiet voice more chilling than any amount of shouting. “Front and center. Now.”
The bulky soldier stalked out of the shadows, hands clenched. “I thought he was going to—”
“Kill me?” Marius limped closer, towering over the shorter soldier. With his disability, and the way he often leaned against his crutch, Elizabeth forgot how tall he was. Apparently, so had Villius. He stepped backward; Marius shot his free hand out and grabbed the collar of his tunic. “We were training. I consider Kane an honorable man, and I trust him. I wouldn’t have put a sword in his hand if I didn’t.”
“But he—”
“Is under suspicion, Villius. Not under arrest. Threaten him again, and you will find yourself facing punishment. Are we clear.”
“Sir.”
Marius let him go, and he stalked across the yard. Headed right for Kane.
If he expected an attack, he was in for disappointment. Kane dropped the sword and held his hands out. From here, Elizabeth saw his right hand shaking.
Instead of stopping, or confronting, Villius barreled into his right shoulder.
“Kane!”
Elizabeth darted forward as Kane let out a pained cry and dropped to one knee. Marius got to him first, and gestured to the crowd. Strong, familiar hands stopped her before she could reach them, pulling her back toward Appia.
“Stop fighting me, Elizabeth.” Quintus kept his voice low. “This is already close to getting out of hand. I told the captain it was a bad idea.”
She stopped her struggle, and stumbled when pain jolted through her head.
“Elizabeth.” Appia must have seen it; she moved toward them, and took Elizabeth out of Quintus’s grasp. “Time for you to rest. A bath will help.”
“No—okay—”
“Beth!” Kane pushed past Quintus, his hand reaching for her. “Are you all right?”
“She will be fine, Kane. You need to stand back now,” Appia said. “Or Quintus will be forced to restrain you.”
“It’s okay.” Elizabeth forced a smile. The pain hammering at her left her dizzy. “I’m fine, Kane.”
He nodded, and backed off, not saying a word. But she could tell he knew she was lying. Every muscle was tense, like he wanted to grab her up and run. She wanted that right now, more than anything.
They had been thrown into the middle of a situation where they had lost any control, and for them, control was necessary, almost as much as breathing. She knew that about herself, and saw it in Kane during their time in Dover and London.
Marius limped over to him and laid one hand on his left shoulder. “Take her home, Appia. I will join you shortly.”
“Then we will talk.”
He almost managed to hide the cringe. “I am at your disposal.”
Appia wrapped one arm around Elizabeth’s waist and headed for the arched doorway. “You are far from fine, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, afraid that if she nodded she might throw up.
“Straight to bed, then. I’ll have Hild sit with you, in case you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
Appia kept her moving, down the steep path, and through the gate, until they reached the front door of her house. “Hild! Eógan! I need you!”
Servius stepped out of the shadows. “May I be of assistance, my lady?”
“Servius—I thought I told you to return to—”
“I thought you may need assistance here, with only the two slaves.”
“Right.” She rubbed her forehead. “Take Elizabeth to the back bedroom for me. Gently now, she has been injured recently.”
“Of course.” He slipped one arm around her waist, and guided her into the cool quiet of the hall. He was stronger than he looked, and more patient than she thought he would be. “You set the pace, miss. I will adjust to it.”
“Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth.” He flashed a charming smile. It lit up his narrow face, and warmed his brown eyes. They narrowed when she stumbled. “Would you mind—I think it best if I carry you the rest of the way.”
Gentler than she expected, he lifted her in his arms and strode through the house. She held on, her head dipping until it rested on his shoulder. He smelled like lemongrass, warm and slightly sweet. It soothed her.
She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes until he lowered her to the sleeping couch. Her head spun, and she held on to him, waiting for the world to right itself.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Movement brought her head up. Just before he pressed his lips against hers.
The kiss was—awkward. And Servius must have sensed it, because he pulled away—so fast she clutched the curved frame to keep from tumbling to the floor.
“Forgive me—I thought—perhaps I misread, but I thought you—”
“No harm done.” She touched his wrist, and said her next words as softly as she could. “I’m married, Servius.”
He jerked away from her, like she was contagious. “I did not—”
“And I realize that. I wanted—damn—” Pain burst through her head. Servius closed both hands over her shoulders and eased her to the mattress. “I’m—sorry.”
“It is my apology you should be asking for.” His lips brushed her forehead. “You are so beautiful, and I wanted to…”
Elizabeth opened her eyes. The pain eased, enough for her to focus on him. “You wanted to leave an impression, before I met some of the soldiers?”
A flush stained his cheeks. He had an expressive face, one that became more interesting, and less bland, the more she studied it. He would be a wonderful subject to draw, unobserved, when whatever emotion he was feeling crossed his
face.
“I hope—we can, that is, if you are able to—”
“I’d like for us to be friends, Servius.”
He smiled. “You are kind. Not like the brutes who strut around here as if they—never mind. My brothers are soldiers, and I have a long standing—distaste.”
Elizabeth held back what she wanted to say. He was a prude, but a harmless prude. And his care for Marius was obvious, in the way he wanted to protect him.
“Thank you for escorting me. I really should get some rest.”
“Of course. Forgive my rudeness.” He moved to the doorway. “I will let my mistress know you are settled. Rest well, Elizabeth.”
She waited for him to leave, then closed her eyes. And pushed herself up to find the nearest container as her stomach lurched into her throat.
A decorative pot under the window became her personal vomitorium. She clutched the thick edges until her stomach stopped heaving, and sank to the floor, every inch sweaty and shaking.
“Elizabeth? I brought you… oh, my dear.” Appia rushed into the room, setting the tray on the floor before she wrapped both arms around Elizabeth and helped her stand.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop. You had no control over this. Slowly, now. I am going to undress you and get you into bed. You will stay there, while I have Hild warm some broth, which you will drink every bit of.” She lowered Elizabeth to the sleeping couch, loosened the decorative pins on the shoulders of her stola, unknotted the ties, and slid the woolen fabric down to her waist. “Arms around me, so I can lift you enough to get you out of this.”
She managed, breathless by the time Appia eased her back to the mattress. Appia braided her hair with the efficiency of long practice, and tied it off, then helped her lie down. She covered Elizabeth with the light decorative cloth, returned with a heavier length of damask, and tucked both of them around her.
“Chew on this. It will help with your stomach.” She laid a thick piece of bread in Elizabeth’s hand. “I will be back soon with the broth. Don’t you move, or worry over anything. Eógan will come and take the pot away.”
“I—”
“No more apologies.” She laid one hand on Elizabeth’s forehead, her eyes narrowed. “You are a bit feverish, which I don’t like. You also gave me the perfect excuse to rid myself of that pot, which I also did not like. It was a gift from Marius’ mother, when he left. He foisted it on me.”
“You’re—welcome?”
Laughter burst out of her. “My dear, you are a treasure. Rest now. I’ll be back as soon as I have the broth.”
Elizabeth took a couple of small bites of bread before she gave up and lay back on the soft headrest. Every inch still felt shaky and weak, but her head stopped throbbing like it was going to explode. Now it was a low, dull ache. Maybe bed rest was the best thing for her.
It would be even better if Kane was with her. But then, she probably wouldn’t get much rest.
She smiled, and closed her eyes. They would be fine. With Marius and Appia on their side, they were almost guaranteed to win.
Chapter Eleven
After the disastrous scene in the principia yard, Kane figured any future sessions were permanently cancelled. He thought wrong.
Marius limped into the small slave room, smiling like he won a prize. “You were something out there today.”
“I was nearly killed out there today.”
Marius waved it off. “Villius won’t dare try again, not with threat of punishment hanging over him. My men were engaged, and together, for the first time since I took over Vercovicium.”
Kane studied him. “The former commander was popular.”
“He was a bureaucrat who let the men do whatever they wanted.” Marius rubbed his face, and sat on the pallet opposite Kane. “I was one of the centurions originally assigned here after the fort was completed. We ran it, and Titus, the former commander, sat in his opulent office and counted the bribes he took for importing food, and exporting slaves.”
“You didn’t like him.”
“That obvious?” With a sigh, Marius set the crutch on the floor, a sign he meant to stay a while. “I sent a report to Rome about him. When he discovered it, he was furious. I know he had something to do with the ambush that ruined my leg. Before I could prove it, he disappeared.”
“Back to Rome?”
“No. I have no idea, because no one has been able to find him. So, I understand Villius’ frustration. But I also understand being set up. It is a tough position, standing in the middle.”
“I am sorry you were put there.”
“Not your fault. Well, not entirely.” He gave Kane a tired smile and reached for his crutch. “The training took more out of me than I expected. How are you feeling?”
Like an old man. “Not as bad as I expected.”
“Good. Same time tomorrow, then.”
He stood and was nearly to the door by the time Kane recovered enough to speak. “You can’t mean to do it again?”
“I absolutely mean to do it again. For the first time since I was injured, I felt in control of my body.”
Kane swallowed. He understood, all too well. “I can’t deprive you of that, then.”
“And you fought quite well, considering it was the first time with your left arm.”
That was another surprise. Feeling the hilt of the sword in his hand, the weight of it, gave him a sense of freedom he hadn’t expected. Using his less dominant arm, and holding his own, also added accomplishment to that freedom.
“I didn’t expect to.”
This time Marius grinned. “Honestly? I didn’t think you would be able to pick the sword up. Much less swing it like a seasoned veteran.”
“Marius—can you tell me more about the murders?” Kane knew it was abrupt, and rude, but he didn’t have an elegant way to push himself into the investigation.
With a sigh, Marius rubbed his forehead, and sat again. “The first one happened right after Titus disappeared. He was a Greek, and a long-time friend to Quintus. They trained together.”
“Quintus told me. Where was he found?”
“Inside the north gate, just after dawn. He would have been coming off patrol.”
“And the second?”
“Behind the principia. Just after dawn. As was the third, the day before you arrived.” Marius studied him. “You have a theory.”
“An idea, from what I’ve seen of your men.” Kane leaned forward. “They wouldn’t let anyone they didn’t know close enough to stab them, am I right?”
“Especially not after the second murder. The first—it may have been written off as bad blood, or an argument that ended violent. But the second, with the same wounds? That showed a pattern. What are you thinking?”
“That they all knew their killer, and didn’t feel threatened by them.” Kane paused, and offered his other theory, bracing for Marius’ reaction. “Have you considered that your commander may have been the first victim? The real victim?”
Marius stared at him. “Gods protect us. Are you thinking I have a killer here, trying to cover one murder with others?”
“It’s a possibility you can’t ignore. One that may lead you straight to whoever is killing your men. This last murder—it was another soldier?”
With a sigh, Marius nodded. “He was off duty. On his way to meet his common law wife. Some of the soldiers marry their girlfriends in local ceremonies. It’s not recognized by Rome, but it keeps them happy. He was the first outside of the fort.” Marius studied him. “And the first to be directly linked to you.”
“My missing earring.”
“Interesting, that it left no mark when he supposedly ripped it out of your ear.”
Kane smiled, for the first time since he was accused. “Also interesting is that I was with Elizabeth, sound asleep, when I was supposed to be killing him.”
“Your earring seems to have gone to a murder without you.” Marius stood, leaning on his crutch more than normal. “First thing tomorro
w, I will make an official announcement that you are no longer suspected in the murders.”
Relief shot through Kane, followed by the exhaustion he’d been pushing aside. “Thank you.”
“I would like to continue to train, as long as you are still here.”
Kane held out his hand, and Marius took it, his grip firm. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Good.” Marius limped across the small room, and paused in the doorway. “Once we are done with training, I want to discuss this further. In addition, I would know where you and your lovely wife are really from.” Kane tensed. He had been waiting for Marius to ask. He still wasn’t sure of the answer. “I will need the truth at some point, in case I am questioned by those who wish to see you accused.”
“Like Villius.”
“Exactly.”
Marius left, taking the guard at the door with him.
With a sigh, Kane closed his eyes, exhausted. A tray of food waited for him, along with a large pitcher of water. All he had to do was stand up.
His stomach clenched at the thought of the food, so close. “All right—give me a minute.”
He braced his hands against the frame of the pallet, and pushed himself up. His shoulder ached, and still healing muscles twitched every time he moved. Hunger motivated him more than the pain. He shuffled over to the tray, and reached for the bowl of still steaming meat.
“I may let you enjoy your last meal.”
Kane spun at the harsh voice—and saw the fist right before it slammed into his scarred cheek.
“Hold him still. I need to cut him just right, or it won’t work.”
Kane jerked against the hands holding him, fully awake now. He must have been struggling even when he wasn’t, because he felt bruised where fingers dug into his arms. A gag kept him from making any sound, the thick cloth tied so tightly it cut into the corners of his mouth, and he had trouble swallowing.
He opened his eyes, and looked into Villius’ furious gaze.
“Thought you were going to get away with it, didn’t you? Cozying up to the commander, making him look good with a weapon again. He asked for proof, we’ll give it to him.”