The Centurion and the Queen

by Minnette Meador

  “Leonius,” Conall blustered, peering suspiciously at the armed men. “What is this?”

  “Aelius!” Leonius called so loudly his horse shifted under him. “What the hell is he playing at?”

  Aelius ignored the question and raised a wax tablet he had been holding in his hands. “Conall, King of the Corieltauvi,” he read, “by order of the centurion, Marius Maximus Lardanium, you are hereby ordered to lay down your arms and surrender immediately. Any non-compliance with this order will be met with excessive force.” Aelius lifted stern eyes from the table to the king. “Is this understood?”

  Leonius moved his horse threateningly toward Aelius and several shields pulled into place, smartly positioned. Leonius stopped his horse. “Are you insane? We are not here to attack the camp!”

  “Leonius!” the king said, fighting to keep his horse under control since it was spooked by the sudden clash of weapons being drawn. “You told me…”

  “Let me take care of this,” he hissed without taking either Aelius or Kuna out of his sight.

  Conall scanned them all briefly, but remained silent.

  “We are not here to attack the camp, Aelius,” Leonius repeated, straining to keep his words calm.

  “That, of course, can be discussed with the centurion, Leonius,” Aelius replied.

  The use of the second’s name, instead of his rank or sir, sent a chill of fear through Leonius.

  “Aelius,” he said, swallowing hard, for the first time aware that he may have overstepped his bounds. The thought sent a visible shiver through him. “I was doing my duty. Our mission here is to strengthen the alliance with the king of this country. I brought him to do just that.”

  “You may discuss that with the centurion, as well.” The usual mirth associated with Aelius’ face and that of the other seventy around him had disappeared. There was nothing left there but cold obedience.

  “The centurion has ordered you immediately brought to him.” He nodded to four men at his back. Lowering their weapons, they advanced on the mounted man. “Please go quietly with these men. You may discuss the accusations of treason with Marius, of course. I advise you to be very careful in what you say.”

  “Treason?” Leonius gasped. A capital offense, the penalty for treason was swift and final.

  “Yes, sir… at least that is the rumor. Of course, I would not know since I rarely listen to rumors. Please. Go with these men.”

  Leonius numbly dismounted his horse and lifted his arms, knowing the procedures well. The four men moved to him, taking his sword, his knife, and removing his armor. He was thoroughly searched for hidden weapons and then surrounded on all sides. Without hesitation, the ranks opened and the men marched him into the camp.

  When they were gone, Aelius carefully watched the remaining eight mounted men. Conall was tall and muscular with a head of wavy, golden-red hair, almost the exact shade of his sister’s. He had a full red beard below piercing green eyes and a large Breton nose. Across his neck was a deep red slash, three weeks healed. Conall, like his men, was dressed in colorful leggings, tunic, and cloak, the wool heavy and expensive. The cloak was secured at his shoulder with a golden broach, probably imported from Egypt since a cat was carved in the metal. A long sword was attached to his hip and the tack of the horses was of fine quality too, obviously Roman. On his other hip, a leather bag rested and perfectly fitting riding gloves covered his hands.

  The king’s face settled into stone.

  Aelius hated him instantly.

  C hapter Fourteen

  Four guards made Leonius wait outside the medico’s tent for nearly an hour, every minute becoming more tortuous. They would not answer any of his questions or even talk to him. When Kuna finally arrived, he took charge of the troops with a hand signal, marched them past the headquarters and then past Marius’ tent.

  Leonius looked down his nose at him. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

  Using the javelin as a walking stick and staying well ahead of the others, Kuna shot him a quick smirk, but did not say a word. He led the men past the horses tethered on the outskirts and over the makeshift plank that crossed the trench at the side of the camp.

  Outside the camp was a deep stand of shadowed woods, mostly evergreens. The smell of pungent decay and fungus was thick in the air. Kuna led them down a well-worn path that cut through the forest, increasing his speed gradually until they were trotting behind him to keep up. Several minutes later, the group emerged into a wide-open clearing where Marius waited with his arms folded.

  Kuna glared at Leonius and pointed to the center of the clearing where he moved cautiously, never taking Marius out of his sight.

  “Did he give you any trouble?” the centurion called to Kuna.

  Kuna shrugged and motioned the other four men to take stations evenly spaced around the clearing. “No. He grumbled a lot.”

  The centurion nodded curtly and then stared at Leonius.

  Unable to stand the silence, Leonius glanced nervously at the other men, and asked, “What are you doing?”

  The Roman leader pursed his lips at him and unfolded his arms. “Someone give him a sword.”

  “What?”

  “Kuna do,” the Asian said, pulling his gladius out of its sheath, and tossing it on the ground in front of him.

  The centurion pulled his sword out of its scabbard and skillfully twirled it out of his palm. It twisted in the air many times, landing with precision back in his hand. Leonius knew Marius was easily the most skilled swordsman in the empire. It was one of the biggest boasts of the century; they had Marius the war hero, the champion as their leader. It was this fact that sent cold streams of sweat down Leonius’ back while he stared at the sword lying at his feet.

  “Pick it up,” the centurion ordered.

  “Aelius said…”

  “What?” Marius growled, expertly twirling the sword and catching it again. Leonius knew he was taunting him with swordplay, and it emphasized his point very well.

  “He told me I was being accused of treason.”

  “Did he?” The centurion’s eyes sparkled darkly in the shrouded forest. “Hmm.” He swung the gladius several times. “Are you a traitor?” The words held accusation with a little mirth. It confused Leonius.

  “No. I went to Hillfort as part of our mission, sir. Perhaps you have forgotten…”

  “I know my mission, Optio.” A subtle black storm brewed in his commander’s eyes. He pointed the tip of his sword toward him. “I think you have forgotten yours. Pick it up,” he said forcefully, pointing to the sword on the ground.

  Leonius searched the other men for encouragement, but their faces were—unsupportive.

  “Pick it up!”

  Leonius scooped the sword from the ground and bent his knees in ready stance. He was good with a sword, better than most. However, this was Marius, Leonius’ ego did not go quite that far and he knew he was manifestly out-skilled.

  “Now…” Marius moved slowly around him, a delicate dance, one foot in front of the other as he circled.

  Leonius’ mind raced, but he was having trouble concentrating, watching the sword move in the centurion’s hand as if it floated on its own. His heart pumped madly in his chest, but he could not get his brain or his voice to work.

  “The lesson begins.”

  “Sir?” Leonius followed, the blade in his own hand seeming clumsy and awkward in comparison. He turned in a circle in the middle of the clearing, knowing Marius was making him move as he wished. Leonius struggled to focus his skill, his training, and his anger, trying to reassure himself they were enough. The effort left him empty, and his self-confidence crumbled under the weight of everything that had happened to him in the last two days. The tip of Marius’ blade brought the rest crashing in on him, and he almost wept under the strain. He could feel the weakness begin in his legs and had to struggle to keep them from buckling.

  “Do you know what your duty is, Leonius?”

  “To serve my emperor and th
e legion.” The words recited with rote exactness. He tracked Marius, not knowing where the first strike would come.

  It was so quick he did not have time to bring his sword up. Marius nicked his sword arm, sending a quake of shock and then pain through him. He brought his other hand up to cover the wound.

  “Wrong, soldier. You are going to die very quickly if you do not pay attention. Every wrong answer brings another wound. Do you understand me?”

  Leonius stared at the blood in his hand and gripped the sword tighter, bent his knees firmly, and readied for another attack. His commander was in dead earnest.

  “Your duty is to me.” Marius twirled his sword again.

  Leonius lunged at him in what he thought was an unguarded moment. The centurion deftly dodged the sword and caught Leonius on the side of the face, sending him sprawling.

  The cut on his cheek was deep, bloody, and would scar. He tried to control his anger as he glared up at Marius from the ground.

  “My duty is to the empire, you arrogant bastard!” The fury made him strong enough to jump to his feet and prepare for another attack.

  “No, soldier,” Marius returned, his tone calm. “Your duty is to me, to these men, to your century. Do you know why?”

  “Because of the chain of command, sir.”

  With lightning speed, the centurion lunged again, and the tip of the blade pierced his side. Leonius winced, the fire of the wound shot through his body, but he held his sword this time, awkwardly trying to return the blow. He missed, and Marius shifted gracefully out of the way.

  “Because, soldier, one day their lives will be in your hands. One day, your life will be in theirs. It will be up to the man at your side to save you—or not. It will be up to you to save him—or not. My mission, my duty, soldier, is to make you understand the difference. If I cannot do that with example, with words, or with training, then I will teach you with the sword. Defend yourself!”

  It did not take long. In less than ten seconds, Marius had the sword out of Leonius’ hands, his body pinned to the ground with his knee painfully planted in his chest, and the point of the sword above his windpipe. The pain from the wounds on his back and his side sent waves of agony through his body as they opened against the dirt. Blood soaked his tunic. For a terrifying moment, Leonius thought Marius would kill him. The centurion’s eyes were a raging storm above him. Nothing in his experience had ever frightened him more.

  “I do not need you to like me,” Marius hissed. “I do not need you to respect me. I do not even need you to do anymore than hate me. What I do need, is your absolute obedience. My century is only as strong as its weakest member is. If he fails, the century fails, and men die. You need to learn that now… today. A battle is coming, soldier, and you had better be ready for it. If you fail me again,” he said through his teeth, pressing the tip of his gladius into the Leonius’ throat until it pierced the flesh, blood filling the indent at its base, “I will kill you myself, without so much as a second thought. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Leonius swallowed hard, the pain mingling with the searing anguish of his back and side.

  Marius rose to his feet, wiped the blade on his second’s tunic, and slammed his sword back in its sheath.

  “Kuna!”

  “Sir?”

  Marius adjusted his cloak and picked up his helmet from the ground. Leonius got to his knees using his hands to staunch the flow of blood from his throat.

  “I have to deal with the king.” Marius said. “Continue the lesson.” He turned toward the path and left.

  Kuna gave Leonius a crooked smile. “Yes, sir.”

  “Continue?” Leonius rasped, watching the centurion stride away.

  Kuna lifted his sword from the ground and signaled another soldier to relinquish his own to Leonius. He was second only to Marius in skill and was the century’s sword master. He had trained every man there.

  “Sir?” Leonius croaked after Marius, but the centurion disappeared into the woods without a word, and Kuna twirled his sword masterfully.

  “Pick up sword…”

  C hapter Fifteen

  It was difficult for Marius to concentrate when Delia came into the tent, Glenys a shadow behind her. Marius nodded to the medico on his right and to the quartermaster on his left. Aelius stood next to the women on one side. Kuna entered the tent and disappeared into the shadows behind the table as he always did, folding his arms, and silently watching.

  Marius ordered that only the king be admitted to the tent, the other men escorted back to their horses and told to wait. Conall would be furious, of course, but that was the plan. Marius wanted him angry, upset—off balance. Angry men made mistakes, and he was counting on this one.

  When the king was finally allowed to enter the tent, Marius studied the large man with a glance and signaled that a chair be provided. The king waved it off irritably and leaned against the table.

  “What right do you have you to keep me waiting all day?”

  Marius grinned. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said contritely with an edge of contempt. It was unmistakable and the king bristled visibly. “It could not be helped. I had other, more pressing matters, to attend.” He folded his hands on the table.

  “What can we do for you, Your Majesty?”

  The tall king shot a fuming glance at Delia. She stood to one side, keeping her head down.

  “You can return my sister to me, Centurion.”

  Marius signaled the scribe for a tablet. “It says here, she is being held in lieu of your outstanding loans, Your Majesty. She is indentured to this century until you can repay them. I am afraid until that happens she remains here.” He glanced at Delia and she returned it, barely covering a fleeting wisp of softness.

  Conall seemed to notice it as well. A slow, lecherous smile spread across his face before answering. “I see.” He looked from one to the other and nodded. “What good is a slave going to do your century while you are encamped, Centurion? Beyond the obvious, of course.”

  The overt leer he cast at Delia made Marius’ sinews tighten. He would have to be careful. This man was no fool.

  “She will be taken to Londinium where she will be pressed into service, Your Majesty. When your debt is paid, you may gather her there.”

  Conall laughed viciously and ran his eyes up and down her body. “Sorry, Centurion, but the thought of my dear, spoiled darling being pressed into anyone’s service, is difficult to envision. Unless she is flat on her back with her legs spread.”

  Marius glared and had to take a moment to calm his outrage. “This is a legal proceeding, Your Majesty,” he said tightly. “You will keep a civil tongue in your head.”

  Conall nodded knowingly, his eyes sparkling with mirth. He was hiding something. This man was extremely dangerous.

  The king lowered his chin and curled his lips. “Of course, please forgive me.”

  “So, if you will excuse us…” Marius said, rising from his chair.

  “Has she been accused of anything else?” Conall asked.

  Marius stared at him and then at the tablet in his hand. “There was a minor incident. It has been dealt with.”

  “Ah. Then if my debt is paid, she is mine?”

  He did not like Conall’s tone. Something was wrong.

  “She will be released from her indenture, if your debt is paid,” Marius returned, watching the large man carefully. “Of course, your sister would be a free woman and may do as she wishes. We have no reason to hold her here, if that is what you mean.”

  “Good.” The king unfastened the pouch at his waist and threw it on the table in front of Marius. Gold coins spilled from the leather, spattering the table in yellow.

  Marius stood up from the table in a single movement, scowling down at the gold.

  “There is my debt repaid, Centurion. I trust you will see it delivered to the procurator in Londinium. That is part of your job, it is it not?”

  Delia gasped. “Where…”


  The king leered at her and shrugged. “Does it matter, my dear? You are free. You do not seem very happy about it.”

  Delia gazed at the money, stunned.

  “Of course, there is the little matter of your theft from my treasury.” He pulled a crumpled parchment from inside his tunic and tossed it next to the gold on the table. “That is a warrant for Delia’s arrest, signed by the governor’s procurator and sealed with his stamp. It is an order giving me full authority over her… detainment. You will release her to me immediately.”

  Marius numbly picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. Reading the contents thoroughly, he finally shot a stunned look to Delia.

  Delia bolted for the entrance and they all jumped to their feet. Conall was too quick and caught her around the waist before she could escape.

  “Not this time,” he growled at her.

  He pulled her flailing body into his arms and turned her around to face the table. Squeezing her arms tightly against her body, he leaned down and said something into her ear.

  Delia stopped fighting.

  “Bastard!” she hissed, and he simply chuckled.

  “Let her go or…”

  “Or what, Centurion?”

  The pretense was gone, and the two men glared at one another. Marius saw it in the king’s eyes. The Breton was relishing his position and Marius’ rage became absolute.

  He came around the table drawing his sword, but Aelius threw himself in his path, and Marius had to push against his aide to get by.

  “No,” Aelius protested.

  Kuna jumped over the table to help hold Marius back.

  “Your duty, sir,” Aelius said urgently while barely able to hold Marius even with Kuna’s help. “You must uphold the law.”

  “No!” Marius hissed, fighting against the two men.

  “Yes,” Kuna said in his ear. “Centurion follow law.” The easterner pushed him back violently sending him sprawling against the table.

  At the same time, Glenys pushed her way through the men, crying hysterically, stumbling to reach her mistress. Aelius grabbed her when she passed and took her into his arms. She struggled against him.