Behind them, a red and silver box of shields and swords marched in double time toward them, killing hundreds every second.
The Breton lurched to her feet and cupped her mouth. “Move them! Move the wagons!”
It was too late.
When Delia rose, dazed from the ground, she touched her forehead and blinked at the people on the wagons. They all stared dumbly beyond her, unnaturally, still with the sun at their backs, and their mouths open. She turned slowly and squinted at the wall of humanity as it hit the wagons. Something hit her hard, threw her into the air, and then sent her rolling against a solid wall where she crumbled.
The world went away in a swirling cacophony of chaos.
C hapter Twenty-Eight
It was an overwhelming task, an impossible task, but Marius, Kuna, Aelius, and those other soldiers that could be spared from his century, searched the bloody ground for hours, looking closely at thousands of dead or dying Bretons. There were men, women, and children—a bloody mass of dead.
The Romans had slaughtered them swiftly against the barrier of wagons that trapped them. Suetonius had been unstoppable, ordering even those who begged for their lives be beheaded on their knees while they pleaded. In twenty-five years, Marius had never seen anything more brutal or bloody. It was not until their numbers were less than five thousand, those mostly women and children, that they stopped, and gathered them up.
Quietly, secretly, Marius had ordered his own century to stand down, had ordered his men not to kill unless it was necessary, but it made little difference. He had never felt more ashamed of his allegiance.
When he reached the line of wagons, mostly turned over or crushed by the rush of bodies that had clawed to escape them, there was a familiar voice echoing across the moans.
“Marius!”
In the distance, Kuna stooped next to one of the few wagons left standing. Marius’s heart pounded in his chest as he jumped over bodies, debris, and anything else that got in his way, pushing his legs to move faster.
When he arrived, Kuna was tenderly reaching under the wagon to pull something into the light. Marius allowed the joy to take over his face when he saw her chest rising up and down. Delia, covered in blood, dark with dirt, and disheveled almost beyond recognition, was alive.
When Delia’s eyes finally flicked open, she managed to smile at him.
“You found me,” she whispered when Marius scooped her into his arms.
“I thought you were dead,” he uttered, holding her as close as he dared.
Marius took a moment to savor the feel of her body, listening to her heartbeat against his ear. Gently, he kissed her neck, and she sighed in his arms.
Kuna touched his commander’s arm. “I go now.”
Marius nodded and his friend left to help his century with the grisly cleanup on the battlefield.
He examined her closely, carefully, making certain she was not broken. All he found were bumps and bruises. She tried to get up twice, but he firmly held her down and told her simply to rest for a moment.
Marius did not want her to see what he had seen. He was not prepared for that, anymore than he was prepared for the aftermath of this general’s wrath. His mind raced to find a solution to this newfound problem. He knew Suetonius would not be satisfied until every Breton on the field was either dead or enslaved.
Marius finally helped her to her feet and turned her away from the field, but she insisted on looking back.
Delia’s smile died instantly, and she froze in his arms when she finally focused on the world around them.
On the field, surrounding her on all sides, were Bretons, crying in pain or pleading for help as exhausted Roman soldiers tried, with little success, to get to each one. Blood saturated the ground, spattering the trees, the wagons, and the moving soldiers, conflicting against an eerie blue sky with downy white clouds. It was the border between paradise and hell.
She sobbed in Marius’s arms.
“Delia,” he said, tipping her head back and gazing intensely down at her. “Do not look at that, look at me.”
She could not peel her gaze away from the devastation.
“Look at me!” he said more forcefully, shaking her. Delia glanced back at him, her eyes overwhelmed with pain. “They will help as many as they can.”
She shook her head, not comprehending what he was saying.
“They will try to help, if they can…” He touched her face and wiped a tear away with his fingertips, “…for now.”
“What do you mean, for now?”
Marius searched her face, lifted her into his arms, and turned without replying.
As he moved through the throng, a bloody Aelius appeared at his side and saluted.
“Report,” he said.
“Boudiga and her daughters are gone and are not among the dead or survivors, as far as we can tell. Total count, there were fifty thousand Bretons, estimating thirty thousand dead. Four hundred Romans fell.” Aelius grabbed Marius’s arm and stopped him. “He is… furious, Marius. He has ordered the surviving Breton men…”
“Thank you, soldier,” Marius answered quickly, resuming his march across the field. “Return to your post.”
Delia’s eyes focused beyond the dead in the field. The truth became apparent without Marius telling her.
In the distance, she could see those still standing forced into massive groups and tethered together. Several Roman soldiers sat at long tables, marking people and writing their names on wax tablets. The men, violently separated from pleading women and children, fought to stay together. She saw groups of Breton men standing away from the others, surrounded by hundreds of Roman swords, while other soldiers seemed to be reading to them from wax tablets. Several of them were weeping. With their hands cruelly tied behind their backs, they tightly corralled together.
Delia gasped when she realized what was happening.
Marius pulled her hard against his chest to force her eyes away. Without stopping, he found a path that led into the woods, lined by soldiers. At a signal and a word, they let him pass, and he took Delia deep into the trees before he stopped.
When he set her down, she looked back at him, terrified. “What will they do to them?”
Marius touched her shoulders and pulled her into his arms, hoping his comfort would cushion the truth.
“I am sorry, Delia.” He licked his lips and forced down the regret.
“Most of the men will be executed publicly and left where others can see them. The women and children… sold into slavery. They will hunt down their families, burn their homes, and take their lands. There will be nothing left of the Iceni or the Trinovantes when it is over. Any other tribes who fought here today will suffer the same fate.”
Delia gasped, and he pulled her tighter into his arms. “Were any of your people among them?”
“No,” she said. “Conall never arrived.”
Marius took a deep breath and whispered into her ear. “Conall is dead. He attacked us and we killed most of them.”
He could feel her stiffen in his arms.
“How many?” she asked with her voice breaking.
Marius dug his fingers into his own arms, hoping the sting would get him through the moment. “Three hundred. All that attacked us.”
“Three hundred?”
Marius could feel Delia weaken as the implications sank into her awareness. The weakness became a quake of grief that turned to sobs. He would have given anything to take it back. The Romans had killed her brother, her people and had torn away almost everything Delia had known… yet she had surrendered to one of their commanders. Guilt flashed through his gut and boiled into a storm. The regret was more powerful than any battle fury he had experienced. Marius wondered if he would ever sleep again. He bit down on his lip to force her through the rest of it.
“I need you to not think about that now. You need to focus and answer my questions.” Marius emphasized the urgency by squeezing her tightly, to stop her tremors. “If you were the
only Corieltauvi, then there may be a chance to save your people.”
“I do not understand.”
Marius tilted her chin up. “Suetonius will not stop here, Delia. He will continue his retaliation until he is satisfied the dissidence is silenced. I have seen it before. If he were to find out your brother was raising arms against Rome , he would destroy your country.”
Her eyes were cresents of pain as she looked at him. “What am I going to do?”
Marius pulled her back into his arms and thought a long time before speaking. “This will be… difficult,” he said at length. “I think I can talk to Suetonius, but…” He brought his lips to hers to kiss her.
“You are queen of your country now. I need to ask you this question. Forgive me,” he said gruffly. “But I need to hear it from your own lips. I need to know what you are willing to do. Is the preservation of your people and your culture more important to you than your life?”
Delia brought her brows together. “Yes.”
“Is it more important than my life?”
“What?”
“Is it, Delia? You need to tell me?”
“I love you.” The flash of fear that shot through her face tugged at Marius’s heart. “You cannot ask me to make that choice.”
“I have to ask you what your choice would be,” he said sternly, shaking her. “So much is at stake here and you have no idea what we are facing. I need to know the extent of your loyalty. Me or your people?”
Tears washed down Delia’s cheeks, and her face turned into a mask of agony. “My people.”
“What would you do to save your culture, your people?”
“Anything.”
Marius swallowed hard and took a deep breath, hating himself for putting her through this. “Even if it meant blending it with another?”
“I do not understand.”
“Would you allow me to save your culture by blending it with mine?”
She gasped.
Marius simply smiled. “It is the only way I know of to save you and your people. They have to become Romans.”
“How?” she breathed.
“Do you love me, Delia? Do you trust me?” he said when she buried herself in his arms.
“Of course.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked simply.
“What?” She looked up at him, startled.
“Will you marry me?” he repeated, giving her a sad smile. “A Roman—an ex-centurion as your husband, makes you a citizen’s wife, a protectorate of the empire. It may be the only way we can guard your country.”
“I thought…” she stammered. “I thought you would go back to Rome .”
Marius kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek against her warm hair. “Not when you are here. Your people need their queen. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then, marry me. It is all I can do. I only hope it will be enough…”
Delia pulled back from him. “You would do that for them?”
“No,” he said, brushing a wayward lock of hair from her cheek and smiling down at her. “I would do it… for you.”
At that moment, several Roman soldiers came out of the trees, Suetonius’s men. Marius released Delia and protectively pushed her behind him.
“Forgive us, Centurion,” their leader said, saluting his superior. “The general has requested your presence.”
Marius looked at the men guardedly, but nodded and took Delia’s hand to lead her from the woods. The lead man stepped forward and took Delia’s arm.
“Forgive us, sir,” he said, pulling her from Marius’s grasp. “We have orders to keep the woman with us.”
“What?” Marius did not let go until the other soldiers pulled their swords. He had his sword out in an instant, but Delia threw herself in front of him.
“No, Marius. Please.”
The leader of the four seemed nervous and sheathed his sword. “We will not harm her, sir. We have been ordered to protect her.”
“What? By whom?”
“By the general. We will stay here with her, if you would like. The general is waiting for you, sir.”
Marius took her arms in his hands, kissed her, and then leaned to her ear. “If they try to remove you, just whistle.” He lifted his eyes to the woods and tipped his head to the right. Delia arched an eyebrow.
Marius glanced over his shoulder once, marching back down the path to his commander’s tent, followed by three armed soldiers.
C hapter Twenty-Nine
Marius arrived at the large headquarters situated in the woods, well guarded on all sides. The contingent of three soldiers stopped him outside the tent and respectfully ordered the removal of his sword, dagger, and all of his armor.
“Why my armor?” he demanded.
“I am sorry, sir, but that was the order.”
Marius curtly nodded and let them strip him down to his tunic and his cherished balteus, refusing to remove it. Finally, escorted into the tent, Suetonius gave him a fleeting glance from the table, and signaled the men around him to leave.
“Centurion,” he said, nodding at Marius.
“General.”
Suetonius continued on the tablet he had before him. Marius stood at rigid attention, knowing the pause was for affect. The general was a master of manipulation—Marius had learned much of what he knew as an officer from this man.
“Your men fought bravely today,” the general finally said, setting the tablet aside and pouring wine into a goblet.
“My men fight bravely every day, sir,” Marius replied stiffly.
Suetonius continued to pour. He snorted a laugh. “Indeed. Would you care to join me?”
“No. Thank you, sir.”
The general sat back in his chair and stared at him. “You have been ordered here, Centurion, to formalize your release.”
“Sir?” The back of Marius’s neck tingled.
“I am exercising your release, Marius. You are being relieved of your duties.”
Marius eyed Suetonius narrowly. “I have another few days, General. May I ask why?”
The man peered into his goblet. “I owe you a life, Marius.”
“Sir?”
“A life. My life. I am paying my debt.”
“I do not understand what…”
“I am going to be blunt. You are very dangerous, Centurion,” he said. “If allowed to go back to Rome , I think you could make a great deal of trouble for me.”
Marius allowed the pretense to drop away. “And why would I do that—sir?”
“Because I think you know what I have to do to these people. You will try to stop me, of course. You have never approved of my methods.”
“No, sir.”
He leaned against the table and narrowed his eyes. “You stopped me in Gaul a few years back, as you will recall. Those were your men sent to Rome , were they not? With reports of my—brutality?”
Marius frowned. “You were ordering children slain, sir. As an example, remember?”
Suetonius set his goblet down and hit the table with his hands. “Sometimes you have to be strict…”
“No, sir, not like that.”
Suetonius waved his hand irritably. “Well, it does not matter.” He picked up his goblet again and took a sip. “I was going to have you killed, you know.” The confession was quiet, threatening.
Marius’ kept his tone even. “You know what happens when I die.”
The general pursed his lips and scowled. “Your confession goes to the senate. I’d be ruined.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, I brought you here to offer you an alternative.”
“What kind of alternative?”
“You accept your release today, before I start my… campaign. I let you take this woman back to her people…” the general gave Marius a rueful smile and pursed his lips, “…and you stay there. You never leave this island, you rule your little country, and you stay out of my way. In exchange, the woman and her tribe will remain un
harmed… as will you. A life for a life.”
Marius took a deep breath, not entirely trusting Suetonius, but knowing he had left him few other options. The papers safely tucked away had always assured his future.
“What of my men?”
Suetonius eyed him distrustfully. “What do you want?”
“I want Kuna promoted to centurion.”
“What? The easterner—the slave? Out of the question.”
“He is a free man, General, and has been for twenty years. Kuna is also one of the best officers you have. You know that. He is to be put in charge of my century.”
The general growled but finally nodded. “Very well, but if he steps out of line just once, I swear…”
“He will be as good an officer as I have been, I promise.”
The general tightened his lips. “The rest of your men will stay here in Britannia. Is that understood?”
Marius shrugged. “I assumed as much, but I do not want them detailed to—you or your men.”
“Fine,” he replied curtly. Pulling another clean tablet from the pile, he drove the stylus into the soft wax. “Actually, I was going to have them assigned to your new country. That would be poetic justice. They can watch you for me.”
Marius could not stop the grin finding its way around his lips. “Absolutely,” he said.
He watched Suetonius’ face shift to uncertainly. The general finished writing the orders and gruffly handed them to Marius. “Get out of my tent.”
Marius strode to the edge of camp and saw three horses approaching him. He smiled at the sight and waited until they reached him. Delia seemed petrified, but she was doing very well for her first time on a horse by herself. Brutus looked doubtful. He was behaving himself, for once, but Marius noticed that Kuna held the reins.
“What happened to the other men?” he asked and swept Delia off the saddle and kissed her.
“We—relieve them,” Kuna said, handing the reins to Marius. “They not want to go. We convince them.”
Marius laughed and jumped on the horse’s back, scratching his ears, and then reaching down to pull Delia in front of him, where she laid contently in his arms.
The Centurion and the Queen Page 19