Soldier of Rome: Heir to Rebellion (The Artorian Chronicles) (26 page)

“Section leaders, report when set!” he shouted as he and Flaccus mounted their horses. Artorius was among the last of the legionaries to arrive with his pack. Macro did a quick visual inspection of his men as the last of them reported they were ready.
“Second Century…at the quick step, march!”

Erin was the first to see the Century leave the city. Their pace worried her. She rushed back to the little flat she occupied with Svetlana and found her mistress talking to a wine merchant. She dropped to a knee and hung her head.

“Domina, please forgive my interruption.” Erin was flushed and out of breath, which took Svetlana by surprise.

“What is it, child?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“Master has left, along with a host of soldiers.” Without paying any further attention to the wine merchant Svetlana ran as fast as she could to the eastern gate of the city. She ran through the gates and almost into her grandfather, who was astride his horse, Odin.

“Grandfather, what’s happening?” she asked; her voice near panic.

“They’re in pursuit of the last of the rebels,” Olaf replied. “Hopefully they will put an end to this sickening affair once and for all.” Svetlana turned back to the scene of chaos within the city. Legionaries fought against the still-spreading fires and sought to keep the populace under control. She then turned back to where she could just make out the last of the Second Century as they crested over the side of a nearby hill. A single tear came to her eye.

“May Freyja protect you,” she said quietly.

Chapter XVI: Pursuit

“Bloody arrogant bastards!” Proculus seethed. He removed his helmet and threw it onto a nearby bench. He then sat down in a chair, hands in his hair. The tannery had been mostly saved and the Centurion was using it as a temporary headquarters. Vitruvius stood calmly by as the light of the early dawn crept through the open window. The entire Cohort, minus the Second Century, was still helping the citizens fight the fires before they spread throughout the entire city. By dawn it looked like they had prevented any further disaster, however it would be some time before all the fires were out. The Second was pursuing the rebels, though Proculus knew there was no chance of them catching their quarry before they reached their destination. And with Indus and his cavalry spread out throughout the region he had failed to leave himself a quick reaction force to pursue the rebels. This vexed him greatly.

“Proculus, I understand your nee
d for haste, but trust me, it will not help us here,” Vitruvius remarked.

“I know,” the senior Centurion replied. “It is difficult though, when it strikes close to home.” Vitruvius nodded in understanding.

“A little faith in Macro and the Second will not go to waste. Remember, I served there for many years. And Sergeant Artorius I helped train. He is a resourceful individual. If anyone can pull off what he proposed, he can. Besides, it does no good to worry about it now. Their plan will work or it won’t. Either way, we cannot do anything about it. The action will be decided long before we arrive. We have other matters we need to attend to.”

“That we do.” With that, Proculus was on his feet. Vitruvius followed him to where there were seve
ral prisoners being guarded by legionaries. They were on their knees, hands bound behind their backs. They had been thrown to the Romans as they had been abandoned by their companions. They gazed at first in contempt, and then in horror as the enraged Centurion approached them with his gladius drawn. Their legionary guards took note as well and stepped away as Proculus slammed his gladius into the belly of one of the men. The rebel gasped in pain, his eyes growing wide, blood oozing from the wound. Proculus withdrew his gladius and kicked the man to the ground, where he lay twitching and convulsing violently.

The Centurion then swung his gladius hard in a backhand slash, ripping through the throat of his next victim. This one fell over backwards, his life’s blood gushing from the severed artery. Proculus stood trembling in rage, grinding his teeth hard as he sought to slay the rest of the prisoners. He was gently but firmly restrained by Vitruvius, who grabbed him by the shoulder and wrist from behind.

“Easy there,” the younger Centurion said in a soothing voice. “It’s going to be okay, Sir.” Proculus lowered and nodded his head, his erratic breathing subsiding.

“Crucify th
e rest,” he ordered the nearby legionaries. “Let all bear witness to Rome’s answer to their impetuousness and treachery.”

“Right away
sir,” one of the men replied as they swarmed on the prisoners, who were now screaming and attempting to fight loose of their bonds. Vitruvius, his hands still on his Commander’s shoulder and wrist, slowly guided him back towards the billets. Proculus shook himself free of the Centurion’s grip and leaned against the side of the building.

“Thank you,” he said, unable to look Vitruvius in the eye. “I do not know what came over me, but I felt like I had lost all grip on my sanity.”

“You did what any one of us would have done,” Vitruvius replied. “Those men, if they can be called men, caused wanton destruction within this city. And this city is under our protection.” He deliberately avoided any further mention of Proculus’ estate or his cousin.

Diana
could not believe what she saw. More than a hundred men stood outside the gates of the estate, all of them heavily armed and filthy. Among them was poor Proximo, his face battered and bruised.

“Oh Proximo,” Diana said when she caught sight of the man.

“Domina, please forgive me,” he said meekly. “I only wished to fetch some berries for my Lady.” One of the rebels shook the slave roughly by the hair.

“Yes, it would seem our lady’s taste for blueberries has cost her one slave,” the rebel said as his companions laughed at Proximo’s fate. Diana closed her eyes and thought hard.
She was certain she would regret her decision, but she would not leave her faithful, albeit naively careless, servant in the hands of these wretches.

“Don’t hurt him,” she said
, standing tall as she descended the steps that lead to the gate. She nodded to another servant who reluctantly removed the reinforcing brace. The rebels ran through, knocking servants aside, demanding wine and food. There was a Greek with them, who seemed to be their leader. Diana stormed over to him. As she approached, the Greek bowed low.

“My Lady,” he said, “I hope you do not mind sharing some hospitality with us. We are weary and in need of provisions and rest.”

“Indeed I do bloody well mind!” Diana fumed. “You come into my estate, uninvited, and you immediately start taking what is not yours and making a mess of the place! And just who in Hades are you?”

“Ah, how careless of me, how could I forget my manners? My name is Heracles, I am the leader of this group of men; men seeking freedom from Rome.”

“Well you can seek freedom elsewhere! This is a Roman estate, and you are
not
welcome here!” Diana’s hand started to reach underneath the folds of her robe. Heracles saw this and immediately snapped his fingers. Two burley men grabbed Diana roughly from behind, each grabbing her wrists and pinning them to her back. Heracles stepped closer, still demeanor still cordial as ever.

“Please, we are weary of violence, and we mean you no harm. You will be placed in your quarters, there to wait until we leave. And you shall remain unarmed.” He reached where Diana had placed her hand and pulled out a legionary-style dagger in an ornate scabbard. He shook his head as he examined it.

“This is a fine weapon. It must be kept safe so that the young lady does not hurt herself.” With that he pointed towards the main house. The two gladiators holding Diana gruffly dragged her away. As they did so, she leaned over and bit one hard on the forearm. The man yelped in pain as blood seeped from where her teeth had penetrated flesh. As he screamed, he raised his hand back to smash her in the face. At that moment, Heracles raised a hand.

“Not a hand will be laid on the Lady,” he directed, very calmly. “Nor will she be used for sport. She is of no use to us if she is spoiled. Now take her away, and be more careful!”

“I will see you rot in hell!” Diana seethed, blood covering her teeth and lips. The two men dragged her up the stairs and into the master suite which she occupied in Proculus’ absence. One of the men kicked open the door and roughly threw her in. The man she had bitten smiled at her through his rotting teeth.

“I
will
use you for sport yet, my love,” he sneered. As the door was slammed shut and barred, Diana was suddenly fearful. She was denied access to her servants, her weapon was taken from her, and she was all alone. Proculus was forty miles away at best. Did he even know of her dilemma?

The door was slowly opened and a small, hooded figure walked in. Once the door was closed, it removed its hood revealing a young girl of perhaps sixteen.

“I was told to come and tend to you, my Lady,” the girl stated, coldly.

“I do not know you, child,” Diana replied. “I take it then you came with
them
.”

“I am anything but a child,
my Lady
,” the girl snapped. She then swallowed hard and lowered her eyes, her composure abandoning her. “Forgive me. It has been several weeks since I entered upon this nightmare, and all I want is to go home.” She pulled some small squares of cloth from underneath her cloak and walked over to the wash basin. She quickly soaked one of the cloths and started dabbing away clumsily at Diana’s bloodied lip. The elder Roman gently took the cloth from her as Kiana lowered her eyes once more.

“I can take care of cleaning myself, thank you,” Diana stated. “You are their prisoner then?” Kiana shook her head.

“No, I have become one of their accomplices; a vile creature as my sister called me. My name is Kiana; I am the youngest daughter of a Gallic nobleman. My father sent my sister and me to Lugdunum soon after the rebellion of Sacrovir and Florus came to an end. The boy I loved was among those killed by the Romans.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. Diana guided her to a chair and sat down on her bed, facing her.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she said earnestly. Kiana slowly shook her head.

“You don’t know all of it,” she replied. “I saw the man who killed my beloved. For after the battle, when families were allowed to come identify the bodies, this man walked over to me and Farquhar’s father.”

“Farquhar was your lover?” Diana asked. Kiana nodded before continuing.

“The man wore the ancestral sword of Farquhar’s family strapped to his hip. It was then that I knew he was my lover’s killer. At the time I did not hate him; or any of the Romans for that matter. I blamed Sacrovir and his poison of lies for my loss.

“But just last month I saw a sight that broke me inside. My sister and I had been sent by my father to Lugdunum as a means of escaping the horrors of what we had seen. And yet for me the nightmare was just beginning. I came to town one morning to go to market. I heard unholy screams coming from a smoldering building where there had been some fighting the night before between the town guards and some escaped slaves. Well it wasn’t the town guards at all that were involved; it was a group of legionaries.

“I came upon a captive who had been horribly tortured and then hastily crucified by being nailed to the side of the building. I was appalled by what I saw; I thought I had seen all the sufferings and death that I ever would in my lifetime. Lo and behold, but who should be the Roman soldier who nailed the poor man to the building? None other than my Farquhar’s slayer!” Her hands trembled as she clutched the inner folds of her cloak. Diana placed a comforting hand on hers.

“Are you sure it was him? After all, more than thirteen thousand legionaries took part in the battle of Augustodunum.” Kiana nodded quickly.

“Oh yes, there was no mistaking him. See the man who killed Farquhar was big; far larger than any legionary I had ever seen. Not tall, mind you, but
thick
.” Diana’s eye twitched as she started to get a visual of the man.
It can’t be,
she thought to herself.

“I swear, this monster had grown even larger since last I saw him,” Kiana observed as she shuddered. “Here was the man who had killed the one I loved, and now he had just tortured and brutally crucified a prisoner. Thankfully he did not recognize me, for I ran from him. It was then that Heracles found me. He was kind and understanding, and when I told him my tale, he offered me a chance at retribution. I would not have to take part in any of the unpleasant things, only provide them with information. My spirit broke and I went along with it. They were good at keeping me away from what they were really doing.”

“What was it they were doing?” Diana asked, fearing she already knew the answer. A tear came to Kiana’s eye as she stared at the ground.

“Unspeakable things,” she said quietly. “They had brought me along one night to act as a lookout for them. It was almost pitch black and I heard some noises that made me panic. I went to find the others when I saw them…”

“Who did you see?” Diana took Kiana’s hand in her own. This girl may have gotten herself involved with wicked men, but Diana sensed that she was not evil.

“Boys…two boys younger than I…brutally murdered and defiled. And what those bastards did to their mother…” She broke down sobbing, her hand covering her mouth as she fought in vain to control her guilt and despair. Diana placed her arms around her and laid Kiana’s head on her shoulder, rocking her gently as a mother would a distraught child.

Diana put an arm around her and let the girl cry. She had to create a female bond fast if she had any hope of gleaning information about her captors. She rocked Kiana and stroked her hair. Eventually her sobs subsided, but stayed snuggled against Diana’s shoulder who sighed inwardly. This was a start.

Heracles was at a loss as to what should be done with those troublesome women. Diana would serve as a valuable hostage, but for how long? And Kiana…well he had little use left for her. He snapped his fingers and the servant Proximo came forward, his head bowed.