A Legate's Pledge

by Tanya Bird

  It was possible Nerva had sentenced those prisoners to a fate worse than death. He could not watch over them forever, could not protect them from the hardships ahead. All he could give them was a few extra moments. There was every chance they would later wish their throats had been cut, their bodies left to the land.

  ‘Burn everything,’ Paulus said, his horse pivoting.

  Nerva glanced once in Brei’s direction, saw the panic on her face. ‘Burn nothing. It will only give away our location.’

  As they resumed their march, he could feel Paulus’s gaze burning holes in his back of his helmet.

  Chapter 6

  If they were waiting for Brei to fall, complain, beg for water, or show signs of tiring, they would be sorely disappointed. No one complained, not even Lavena, who was only seven years old. She had not made it into the hut in time. At least she had her mother with her.

  Brei closed her eyes for a moment, grateful her sister and nephew had been spared the long march to… Her eyes opened. Where would it end? She knew the direction they travelled but had only a vague idea of what awaited them. If only the other warriors had been there, they might have stood a chance. But her father had gone east, believing a few sheep thrown in the path of the legion would spare them. He had told her to remain behind under the pretence of protecting the village, and she had felt annoyed and excluded.

  Then she had failed him.

  A realisation hit her at that moment: she would never see him again. Nor would she see Alane and Drust, or her grandfather, or any of the others. The only people she had left were tethered behind her like animals. She turned to check on them. They followed in single file, paling with every mile. As the chief’s daughter, she was responsible for keeping them alive. The problem was, she knew there were far worse things than death.

  Brei looked over her shoulder, checking on everyone. Her gaze fell to Lavena, who followed directly behind her. Dark circles enclosed her green eyes. They had been marching for a day and a half, then forced to stand while the soldiers made camp, to watch while they ate, and freeze while they warmed themselves in front of fires. Sleep was fleeting, and for Lavena, it was the first time she had slept away from their village.

  ‘Tired?’ Brei asked.

  Lavena nodded.

  Brei looked up at the sun to gauge the time. They would probably continue for another few hours. Not a problem for her, but for a young girl like Lavena, it was the difference between collapsing and not. ‘Not too much longer.’ She attempted a smile that she hoped was reassuring.

  Another nod, and then the girl’s gaze returned to her feet.

  The soldiers may have been fit, but the terrain was tough on them, even harder with those large packs on their backs. Each one weighed as much as her. Their feet slipped constantly on the lichen-covered surfaces, and their frozen hands struggled to keep hold of their weapons. It would be the perfect time to attack as fatigue gripped them, but no one came.

  Lavena collapsed. Brei heard the air leave her lungs as she hit the rocky slope. Turning, she grabbed hold of the girl’s arm. ‘Up. Quickly now.’

  ‘I can’t,’ the girl replied, and her feet slipped out from under her again.

  Brei managed to keep her upright that time, but her head was slumped so far forwards that her chin was almost resting on her breastbone.

  ‘Walk,’ the girl’s mother, Morna, whispered behind her, giving her a shove. ‘They’re coming.’

  Brei carried her along as best she could with bound hands.

  ‘Halt,’ called the approaching centurion. The other soldiers stopped marching in unison. ‘What the hell is going on here?’

  ‘She tripped,’ Brei said in Latin. ‘I’m just helping her up.’

  It was clear by the centurion’s expression that whatever patience he had left would not stretch far. ‘Get her walking, then.’

  ‘Come on,’ Brei whispered. ‘Just a bit farther.’

  Lavena nodded and took a few steps before collapsing once more.

  ‘If she can’t march, she stays here,’ the centurion said, taking a step towards her.

  ‘No!’ Morna cried.

  Brei looked around, pulse racing. There was nothing for miles. She would die where they left her. ‘I’ll carry her.’ Brei crouched and gestured for Lavena to climb onto her back.

  The centurion laughed. ‘You won’t make it to the top of the hill.’

  ‘I’ll make it all the way to camp.’

  Lavena collapsed against her, and Brei rose, taking hold of one of her legs while the other hung limp. She looked the centurion straight in the eye. ‘We’re ready.’

  He shook his head and signalled to one of his men. ‘Cut the girl loose.’

  Brei’s grip tightened on the girl’s leg. ‘I told you, I can carry her.’

  The sound of a horse approaching at a canter made the centurion turn his head. He stood to attention as the legate approached.

  ‘What is the hold-up here?’ the legate called to them, looking from the centurion to Brei.

  After two days marching with his legion, she had finally learned his name. Nerva looked every bit the pompous Roman in his ridiculous armour.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about, sir, just removing some dead weight so we can reach our destination before dark.’

  Nerva pulled up his horse and looked at Lavena. ‘Dead weight?’

  ‘The girl cannot stand, sir,’ replied the centurion. To prove his point, he stepped up and kicked Lavena’s leg, which hung limply.

  Brei could not stop her reaction. Raising a knee, she shoved him back with it. The centurion’s face reddened as he drew his dagger.

  ‘You want to die with the girl, is that it?’ he said, moving towards her.

  ‘Enough,’ Nerva said.

  ‘I told him I would carry her,’ Brei said, looking up at him.

  Nerva’s expression did not change. ‘Carry her? Through mountain terrain with your hands tied?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The centurion shook his head. ‘She’ll slow us down.’

  Nerva turned to him tiredly. ‘If she does, then do what you must. Until then, get your men moving.’ He swung his horse around. ‘The only person slowing us down right now is you.’

  ‘Can you untie my hands?’ Brei asked Nerva.

  Nerva turned his horse and cantered away.

  ‘Let’s move!’ the centurion ordered. He thrust a sharp finger at her. ‘I expect you to keep time with my men.’

  Everyone moved forwards once more.

  ‘Thank you,’ Morna whispered from behind.

  Brei did not respond. She needed to reserve all her energy for the walk. One of the commanders, the one they called Marcus, rode back a few times to check on them. While he never spoke to her, he had kind eyes, and she suspected he was someone the legate trusted. She saved all of her glaring for the centurion in front of her, who kept looking over his shoulder to remind her he was watching.

  It was almost dark when they reached Kinnel. While she did not keep time with the men, she did keep up, much to the centurion’s disappointment.

  ‘Halt!’ came the order down the line.

  Brei fell to her knees and licked the sweat from her dry lips. Morna rushed forwards to take her daughter. Brei rested her forehead on the backs of her hands and gritted her teeth against the pain in her back and shoulders. After a long moment, she turned to check on the girl, pleased to see her looking livelier than she had earlier.

  ‘Thank you,’ Morna said.

  Brei only nodded, suddenly aware of her unbearable thirst. The men had deliberately not given them water, but her kind could go without food and water much longer than any spoiled soldier.

  ‘On your feet,’ shouted the centurion. ‘You rest when we do. You can help the men make camp.’

  Brei glared at him, then looked over at Lavena to see if she had it in her. The girl stood on legs resembling those of a filly just born, jutting her chin in a way that made Brei proud.

  ‘If you e
xpect to be fed, you’ll all help,’ barked the centurion, visibly annoyed by Lavena’s renewed energy. He walked over to Brei and untied her wrists with a punishing tug. The coarse rope scratched against her already raw skin. ‘Let’s see how strong you barbarians really are.’

  The other prisoners watched her with expressions of pity. They were not warriors but mothers, cooks, and healers. One of the women had watched her young son die at the hands of these men. All she could manage now was a vacant stare accompanied by long stretches of silence.

  ‘She can raise the posts for the officers’ tents,’ the centurion said. ‘By herself.’

  The other soldiers exchanged smirks as Brei was ushered towards a ten-foot wooden pole being removed from a mule. A frown settled on her face as it was dropped at her feet by two slaves.

  ‘Go on,’ the centurion said, waving a hand. ‘Our men need shelter.’

  She walked along it, then bent, gripping one of the smooth ends as best she could, hoisting it to chest height with one enormous heave. She remained there for a moment, wondering how on earth she was going to get it the rest of the way without help. Meanwhile, the centurion retrieved his vine staff and slapped it against his hand.

  ‘In case you get lazy,’ he said.

  She just watched him for a moment, imagining all the ways she could kill him. Preferably slowly, his mouth open in surprise as the life drained from his smug face. She would make sure she was the last thing he saw before he died.

  ‘What are you looking at, barbarian?’

  She really wanted to reply but said nothing. Repositioning her hands, she pushed with all her might to lift the pole above her head. Her arms shook beneath the weight, but she was determined to complete the task.

  Lavena stepped forwards. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said, holding on to the pole.

  ‘No,’ Brei said. The centurion had been very clear she was to do it alone. Before she managed to get another word out, the centurion lunged forwards and brought his rod down on the girl.

  A squeak escaped Lavena as she staggered backwards, her hands going over her cheek and eye. Morna rushed forwards to remove her daughter. The pole wobbled in Brei’s grip. She stepped aside to let it fall to the ground. It rolled, stopping at the centurion’s feet.

  ‘Pick it up,’ he sneered, walking towards her with the vine staff raised.

  She had wanted to pacify him as best she could so those unable to defend themselves would not need to. But she was more warrior than nurturer. So, when the rod came down, she caught it. The centurion’s eyes widened as she tugged it from his grip. Maybe it was the thirst and hunger, the fatigue, or the events of the past few days that made her snap. When the centurion opened his mouth to speak, she leapt at him, pushing the vine staff into his throat with the force of ten men.

  A soldier ran at her, but she swung a leg out, connecting with his chest and sending him crashing backwards. The centurion’s face went from red to purple, the veins in his face bulging. He fumbled for his sword with one hand while the other tried to push her away, but she kept blocking him.

  ‘You should’ve cut my throat when you had the chance,’ she hissed, pushing harder still.

  They came running from all directions then, tackling her to the ground and crushing her under their combined weight. There were at least four men piled on top of her. Her ribcage squeezed, and she waited for the snap of bone.

  ‘What is going on here?’

  Brei could not see who had spoken. Raspy coughing came from the centurion as he tried to draw breath. The weight on her eased as the men got to their feet, dragging her up with them. Next thing she knew, she was face to face with the commander who had given the speech about the extinction of her people. Yes, she would remember his name and face with those close-set eyes. Paulus Cordius.

  ‘You again,’ he said, glancing over at the centurion who was crouched on the ground holding his neck. He turned back to Brei. ‘Your pretty face might have fooled the general, but nothing can save you from me now.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

  His mouth lifted in a smile. ‘Not yet.’ Turning away from her, he said to the men, ‘String her up.’

  Chapter 7

  Nerva made a point of separating himself from the prisoners, leaving them in the charge of his capable men. He had spared their lives against his better judgement, going against direct orders. That was all he could do.

  ‘The men are settled,’ Marcus said, falling into stride with Nerva as he headed towards his tent.

  ‘How are our food supplies?’

  ‘Adequate grain, salt, and oil. Some rabbit. No one’s complaining—yet.’

  Nerva smiled as he strode between the cavalry tents in their neat rows. The smell of bread and meat cooking had taken over the air and was making him hungry. ‘Are the prisoners settled?’

  Marcus drew a breath and looked around. ‘All but one.’

  As soon as Nerva heard those words, he knew which one. He waited for Marcus to elaborate.

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to hear anything else about them.’

  Nerva stopped walking. ‘That was true until you threw me those breadcrumbs.’

  The tribune hesitated before speaking. ‘The chief’s daughter. She tried to strangle a centurion. Cordius is dealing with her.’

  It took him a moment to absorb those words. ‘Dealing with her?’ An image of her being crucified sprang to mind.

  ‘She’s alive for now, but you know what he’s like. Wants to make an example of her.’

  Nerva closed his eyes for a moment. He had known she would snap eventually, and of course he could not have her strangling his men. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Let the men handle it.’

  ‘Take me to her.’

  The tribune shook his head. ‘This way.’

  He led Nerva past the officers’ tents to where a crowd had gathered. The sound of leather slapping flesh reached them. It was the familiar sound of discipline that was carried out on a daily basis, only this time it was not one of his own men.

  ‘Move aside,’ Marcus called ahead of him.

  The spectators turned to look, splitting down the middle to let them through. Nerva saw her then, arms raised above her head and secured with ropes. Her tunic was ripped to her waist, her back striped red and head slumped forwards. She was panting through gritted teeth.

  Nerva’s gaze met Paulus’s as he passed him. The commander lowered his whip, seemingly annoyed by the interruption. Nerva went to stand in front of Brei, and she raised her head to look at him. She wore the same determined expression she always did whenever they met. This was not a woman who could be easily broken. He stared into her bloodshot eyes for a moment. ‘I am beginning to regret my decision to spare your life. It seems you are causing my men some grief.’ He spoke in Latin, knowing she could understand most of it.

  ‘You protect your people, and I protect mine.’ She spoke in Brittonic.

  Paulus flicked the whip and frowned across at Nerva. ‘What did she say?’

  That man needed to learn when to keep silent. Ignoring him, Nerva looked down at her trembling legs. No longer a ghost but flesh and blood in that moment. ‘Cut her down. Put her with the others.’

  ‘I am not done,’ Paulus said, his tone sharper than it should have been with his superior.

  Bristling, Nerva turned to face him properly while Marcus cut her down. The fact that Paulus had chosen to carry out the task himself said so much about him. ‘You are done if I say you are.’ When he was sure the commander understood, he turned and walked away. He had to get out of there before he did something foolish, like pick her up off the ground. The Maeatae were not blameless, he reminded himself. The only reason he was stuck north was because they had revolted, forcing Severus’s hand. There was no space for sympathy when his entire purpose for being there was to eradicate her people.

  Marcus caught up with him just as he reached the tents. ‘Don’t let that pretty face fool you.’ He looked behind them to en
sure no one else could hear. ‘I called in on the centurion she nearly killed, and I’ve no doubt she meant to finish the job.’

  ‘She is a warrior. Of course she meant to finish the job.’

  Marcus brushed a hand over his short hair. ‘It’s easy to become distracted when your enemy looks like a daughter of Jupiter.’

  ‘I am a legatus legionis in the Roman army, not a boy reaching puberty. That woman could be ninety and covered with warts, and my reservations would be the same.’

  Soldiers stepped aside to let them pass as they headed for the large tent at the end of the two rows.

  ‘This doesn’t fall on you,’ Marcus said, his voice low. ‘History will not speak of the atrocities of General Nerva Papias.’

  Nerva pushed through the opening in the tent and finally came to a stop. ‘But I must live with every order I carry out.’

  Following him into the tent, Marcus looked around. ‘When this is over, when you’re back in Rome with a beautiful wife and grown sons, you’ll barely think of this time or place again.’

  ‘My beautiful wife?’

  ‘Yes, the one your mother is hard at work selecting for you.’

  Nerva felt himself relax. ‘Oh, that one.’

  The tribune moved to leave, then changed his mind. ‘Before I go—’

  ‘Gods, what now?’

  Hands went up in mock surrender. ‘I was just going to ask if you wanted me to send a medic to the girl.’

  Nerva drew a breath and looked heavenward. Tending to her wounds would not sit well with his men after she had attempted to kill one of them. ‘Be discreet.’

  The women lay Brei on her stomach in the dirt because there was nowhere else to put her. Despite there being a few healers among them, there were no herbs or medicines of any kind, only a ration of drinking water and widespread thirst.

  ‘Drink it,’ Brei said to the women, trying to keep the misery out of her voice and failing. ‘Don’t waste it.’

  Looks were exchanged but no one objected. Lavena had already emptied her cup and sat licking her cracked lips. Back home they had an ointment that would fix them, but home was twenty miles south.