Reshef gripped his hand and grasped his shoulder, his feet spread wide to maintain balance. “You are courageous indeed!”
“I just want to get to Constantinople!” Veris replied truthfully.
Reshef laughed. “Thanks to you, that is where we must go! We cannot risk turning against the wind, now. The yardarm is too weak.”
Hot watery relief trickled through him. It was so strong, it overwhelmed his vampire state and for a few seconds he felt the emotion as a human does—physiological reactions and all. Veris swallowed, his breath shuddering in and out. “Thank you.”
Reshef’s smile faded. “It will be a journey through hell, my friend. I could use an experienced hand like yours.”
“I had no intention of sitting it out, Reshef.”
Reshef grinned. “Good.”
They reached Constantinople at sunset the next day, limping into the wharf with a torn sail and very low in the water, for they had been taking on water all day. But they had made it.
Reshef gave Veris two of the gold bezants back, in thanks. “Find your friends,” he urged. “And Allah speed your way.”
Chapter Sixteen
Matthew was scowling as he entered the formal reception room of the big house where Taylor and Veris stood waiting. His stride faltered as he took in Veris’ presence, but he was the master of this house, and confident in his position in society. He moved forward, the scowl settling back into position.
“Ariadne, I have heard the strangest tales from the servants, about you and a man…this man, I presume, running through the markets with weapons drawn.”
Taylor glanced at Veris. The slaves and guards had already reported back to their master.
Veris stepped forward. “Taylor was set upon by shopkeepers who had been told she had stolen from them. I rescued her and Metrodora, the daughter of the Emperor’s tax collector. I believe you know him.”
Matthew registered the use of her real name and glanced around the room. There were no servants within hearing range. “Who are you?” he asked shortly.
“Veris Gerhardsson.”
Matthew looked sharply at Taylor. “Your husband?”
She gave him a small smile. “I have not openly declared this.”
Matthew drew in a slow breath, considering the matter. “Why were the shopkeepers told you had stolen something?”
“I believe the man who told them wanted to separate Taylor from her guards, so he could have her for himself,” Veris replied. “To rape her, as men do.”
Matthew licked his lips. “Such crudity…” He shook his head, dismissing the matter, as Veris had predicted he would. After another quick glance around the room, he reconsidered Taylor once more. “I still need Ariadne here with me in the house and most especially at the Hippodrome.”
Taylor nodded. “I am willing to assist you in that matter, if Veris can be allowed to come and go freely?”
Matthew studied Veris once more. “I would prefer that some discretion is maintained. I presume your wife has shared with you the circumstances surrounding her stay here in my house?”
Veris crossed his arms. “All of them,” he intoned. “Down to the smallest detail.”
Matthew’s eyes widened just the smallest amount—all the dismay he showed. His gaze slid away from Veris’ face. “Very well. Um…welcome to my home, Northman.”
Taylor looked out the window to check the position of the sun in the sky and judge the time. “I must find Kale. I have an errand for her.” She smiled at Veris and left the two men alone, while she hurried from the formal reception room, down the long processional to her private suite.
Kale was setting fresh water on the table that served as Taylor’s bathroom counter. Her eyes widened when she saw Taylor. “My lady! I have heard such horrible stories about the markets!”
“Another time, Kale. I will tell you the full story and leave not a single detail aside, I promise.” Taylor drew the woman aside. “I need you to go to the front gate of the slave quarters at the Hippodrome and ask for Oresme.”
Kale’s mouth opened in astonishment and dawning horror. “My lady! I cannot!”
“I certainly cannot go,” Taylor told her firmly. “But you can take as many guards with you as makes you feel comfortable. You must deliver a message for me. It is very, very important, Kale.” She shook the woman’s arm for emphasis. “Please do this for me. I will ask nothing of you ever again. I promise.”
Kale hesitated. She clearly did not want to do this.
Taylor picked up her hand and held it. “What is it you most want in this world, Kale?”
Kale tilted her head to one side, puzzled. “Want?”
“What is it you desire? What would you like to have?”
Kale frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Taylor stared at her, flummoxed. Then she rolled up her mental sleeves, looking for another way to state it. “Do you ever wish for something unlikely to happen that would have a good outcome for you, Kale? Or to possess something you cannot have?”
Kale’s frown deepened as she puzzled through what was clearly a novel concept for her. These were advanced philosophical subjects for such times. “I sometimes…wish…I might be allowed to own a cat.”
Taylor held back her first natural reaction, one of disbelief. She squeezed Kale’s wrist. “I will make it so,” she promised. “If you deliver this message for me.”
Kale looked at her doubtfully. “The master will not object this time?”
“No,” Taylor said firmly. “He will not. I have leverage now, Kale. He will abide by my wish. If I say I want you to have a cat, you will have a cat…a most adorable, fluffy little kitten to take care of. This is that important to me.”
Kale pressed her lips together, gathering courage. “Very well, then,” she said. “What is your message?”
“Thank you,” Taylor said and gave her the message, as Kale’s eyes grew wider once again.
* * * * *
Loud voices and commotion from the reception room had Taylor hurrying back to Veris’ side just as quickly as she had departed. The loudest voice was male and one she didn’t recognize.
She entered the room to find many more people in it than when she had left. She quickly identified from dress and demeanor that most of them were servants and slaves. The remainder wore identical tunics and armor, swords and helmets.
Soldiers, she guessed.
Veris stood a few paces away, close by the door. A good strategic position. He stepped over to her side as she entered.
“Trouble?” she asked in a murmur.
“Isaac Eudoxia. You tell me.”
Ariadne’s father. “Oh, shit,” Taylor whispered in English.
Veris glanced at her. “Trouble,” he concluded.
“Which one is he?” Taylor asked.
“Ariadne!” Matthew called, circling around a clump of the soldier and striding toward her.
One of the tallest of the soldiers pulled off his helmet to reveal iron grey hair and eyes that were the same grey as hers. “Everyone, leave. Now.” He said it flatly, with the snap of command that said he expected no protest and instant obedience.
At once, the soldiers all turned and filed from the room silently.
Matthew stood by her side, closer than Veris stood.
The man that could only be Isaac and Ariadne’s father took the five paces that separated them, bringing him almost toe to toe with her. He was studying her, his gaze roaming all over her face. “Remarkable,” he murmured.
“As you can see, Ariadne is safe and sound,” Matthew said. His voice trembled.
Taylor glanced at him. “Don’t.” She looked at Isaac. “Matthew told me it would help to find Ariadne. Kale told me she sent you a message. It reached you, then.”
“This was Matthew’s idea?” Isaac asked, his gaze still skipping all over her face, as if he was absorbing her appearance. Storing it up.
“He thought it would confuse whoever took her, if they saw me with Matthew
at the races. It would give him time to search for her.”
Isaac nodded. He turned to Veris. “And you, sir?”
“My real husband,” Taylor explained. “Veris Gerhardsson.”
Isaac looked Veris up and down. “Northman, yes?”
Veris smiled. “Yes.”
“You permitted this duplicity to take place?”
“The affair was already underway when I arrived in the city this morning,” Veris told him. “As it was constructed to help your daughter, I allowed it to proceed while I monitored the situation.”
Isaac shifted his helmet so it was resting under his other elbow. “You have the look of the ranks about you.”
“That was a long time ago,” Veris replied. “And far from here.”
“A soldier is a soldier long after he takes the uniform off.”
“So I’m told.” Veris shrugged. “I study medicine now. It is a more peaceful trade.”
“There will always be wars.”
“Then there will always be wounds to stitch.”
Isaac grinned. “You’re right, at that.” He moved back to Taylor. “You have my thanks for the help you tried to give, even indirectly, to my daughter.”
Taylor frowned. Isaac was speaking in the past tense. But before she could question him on it, he swiveled to face Matthew, drew out his sword and plunged it deep into the man’s stomach.
Veris pulled her aside, inserting himself between her and Isaac. His own knife was out and up in the defensive position, as Matthew coughed and folded over the short sword, then slowly sank down to the marble tiles.
Blood seeped onto the cold tiles as Isaac watched him die with a disinterested expression on his face.
The silence in the room was total.
Taylor gripped Veris’ arm, sick pity washing through her. But her horror was tempered by the memory of the blows Matthew had given her, a woman who was not his wife, and the priority he had given to his own reputation over the safety of his real wife.
Isaac pulled his sword from Matthew’s body and wiped it on the man’s dalmatic with slow thoroughness.
Veris lowered his knife, but didn’t sheath it. “Ariadne is dead,” he guessed.
Isaac nodded. He looked up at them and his eyes were haunted, filled with pain. “After I received Kale’s message, I brought twenty men with me to the city. We have spent the last two days turning the city upside down, looking for her.”
“You found her,” Taylor concluded.
Isaac drew in a breath that lifted the iron breastplate. “In the Golden Horn, late last night.” He looked at her. “They…whoever they are, must have seen you with Matthew and believed they did not have the real Ariadne, that the woman they had was worthless to them as leverage to force Matthew to throw his races. So they killed her.”
He pressed his toe against Matthew’s body. “I found out that he had done nothing to try to find her, or to pay for her release.”
Taylor shuddered. “He used me as a way to safely ignore them, while drawing no attention to himself.”
Isaac nodded and pushed his sword back into the scabbard. “He has paid for his arrogance. Now the rest will.”
“How will they do that?” Veris asked sharply.
Isaac shrugged. “My men are turning over every blue chariot camp in the city, looking for the location where my daughter was held. When they find it, they will report back to me and I will know who did this deed. Then I will visit him.” Isaac smiled. “And we will talk.”
Brody. Brody was a blue chariot driver.
Taylor realized her fingers were digging into Veris’ arm when he frowned and glanced down at his elbow. She let go of his arm and stepped around to stand level with him. “Brody is a blue driver,” she whispered.
Veris drew in a slow breath. “They’re only looking for evidence she was held there. That’s all.”
Taylor swallowed. “Then why do you looked scared, too?”
* * * * *
This time there was no warning. No murmur of many feet, or the whisper along the tunnel of the movement of many bodies. They were that good.
Oresme had returned from the front gate only a few minutes before, his face thunderous, to stomp over to where Basilides sat on his customary stool, to speak in low, angry tones.
From their conversation and the resentful expression Basilides sent Brody, Brody knew Taylor had successfully put the squeeze on Oresme one more time and his spirits soared.
Another night in her arms.
He sat up straighter against the thick main post that supported the three tiers of bunks and looked down at the scrapes and scabs on the backs of his hands, to hide what had to be a stupid grin.
Evaristus squatted down next to him. “You’re being discussed again,” he said softly.
“I know.”
“For what it’s worth, they might just take it out of your hide this time, too. Whatever that woman is doing, they don’t like it much.”
“I don’t care much,” Brody replied. “I don’t care at all, really.”
Evaristus lifted a brow. “If they beat you hard enough, you’ll care.”
Brody shook his head, smiling. “No.”
Evaristus smiled back. “You found it.”
“Found what?”
“The way out.”
Brody frowned, confused. “No.”
“I’m not talking about escape. I’m talking about here.” Evaristus tapped his temple.
Brody let out a slow breath. “Yes,” he agreed, and it had to do with a woman with a pair of big grey eyes and an ornery Northman who loved him despite everything he dragged them through.
That was when the soldiers exploded out through the main tunnel into the cavern proper, their swords whirling and their knives raised.
Evaristus straightened and Brody got to his feet, as did most of the slaves dotted about the cavern. The guards moved forward, pulling out their swords and knives, and that spelled their fate.
The soldiers cut through them like a knife through cheese. Brody saw immediately that the soldiers had other objectives in mind. They were quartering the cavern like seasoned SEALs, cutting down anyone who got in the way. This was reconnaissance, not invasion.
Brody put his back up against the post he had been sitting against and stayed there, willing himself to keep still and small and unnoticeable, while every other occupant of the cavern scattered like frightened rabbits, diving into the tunnels and sub-caverns with squeals and screams and shouts of dismay.
The soldiers stayed in pairs and systematically investigated every tunnel, cavern and hole in the ground. One pair stopped in front of Brody.
“Who are you?” one of them demanded. His short sword was red and dripping with blood. The smell of it was hot and coppery. Normally the scent touched off blood lust in Brody, but all it did now was make him tremble.
He held up a wrist, to show them the cuff. “I’m no one,” he assured them.
They moved on, disinterested.
Brody let himself slide down the post until he was sitting on the ground once more. There was nothing to do but wait until it was over, then wait some more until tonight.
Taylor, I’m coming, he promised her mentally.
* * * * *
At ten o’clock, the guards arrived as requested, to find the candles along the processional all fully lit and Kale and Taylor waiting for them openly.
“There is no need for silence,” Kale informed them. “Not inside this house, and you may remain in the house in comfort tonight.”
The lead guard threw back his hood to look at Taylor. “Has something happened?” He was suspicious.
“Matthew is not here. Do not trouble yourself,” she told him. “You are welcome to help yourself to any food and wine you wish to partake of in the kitchen.”
He raised a brow. “Very well.”
“We can take him from here.”
He shook his head. “We’ll leave him in the suite, my lady, and I’m leaving a guard at the do
or. No offense, but after today, we can’t afford to lose any more.”
Taylor didn’t understand the comment and made a mental note to question Brody about it later. She stepped aside and let them lead Brody down the length of the processional and into Ariadne’s suite.
They unchained him and removed the robe and stepped aside. The lead guard nodded to her. “Two hours before dawn, my lady.”
“Agreed,” she replied. “Kale, please show them the way to the kitchen.
Kale waved them toward the door. “This way, please.” Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face was drawn from her grieving over Ariadne’s death, but for reasons she would not give, Kale had remained in Matthew’s house to assist Taylor.
As soon as the guards had left the room, Brody turned to Taylor and hugged her. As per her instructions, he was freshly bathed, although his tunic was the same one she had given him the day before and was already showing stains and wrinkles.
“Brody,” Veris said, stepping out from behind the partitioning curtains.
Taylor felt Brody’s quick intake of breath, then the bone-deep trembling begin. His arms tightened around her. “Oh, god, Taylor…how did you do it?” he whispered.
Veris rested his hand on Brody’s shoulder and she felt Brody shudder at the touch.
“I was in Pergamum, Brody. Not Britain.”
Brody turned and threw his arms around Veris and Taylor stepped around behind Veris so she could see Brody’s face.
Tears were glittering in his eyes and he dug them out with his thumb, roughly, and closed his eyes against more. “Fuck,” he said harshly, straightening up and looking at Veris. Then, “Nope, not enough.” He grabbed Veris’ face in both hands and kissed him. It was a deep, hard and thorough kiss and Veris sighed and grabbed Brody’s hair and pulled him closer.
When they parted, Veris curled his big hand around Brody’s neck.
“Don’t say ‘I told you so,’” Brody warned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Veris replied. “It’s been worth the troubles to see you in a tunic and slave bands. I like it.”
A hot look flashed between them, making Taylor catch her breath as arousal streaked through her.
Kiss Across Chains (Kiss Across Time Series) Page 19