Cinnamon was wet, and he was cold, and he was more than a little frightened. Vitus had gotten them into this mess, but he looked calm, relaxed, even, though he was tied to a folding campaign chair and was arguing with the burly chief guardsman. Of course, Cinnamon ruefully reflected, it wasn't like Vitus had much to worry about. It wasn't Vitus, with his neat haircut, and his fine linen tunic, and his manicured hands, who would have the truth beaten out of him. No, that sort of thing was the lot of slaves, no matter how desperately said slave had tried to talk the master out of his hare-brained schemes.
And it had been a mightily hare-brained scheme, at that. Trying to cross over in to the territory of the Estavacan Confederacy at a time of war, that was stupid. Trying to do so by attempting to splash across a heavily-guarded ford on the Florea in the middle of the night was even stupider. Cinnamon had to admit that, at first, it looked like it might work. In the darkness, it had been more easy than he had expected to weave between the guards, avoiding them. Avoiding them, that is, until Cinnamon and Vitus actually tried to enter the water. At the first splash, three different lanterns had been trained on them, and in an instant they were being dragged into this mildewy little tent. They had been accused of being traitors and spies and worse, and right now Vitus was begging their guard to contact the governor's office, that he was one of the governor's attachés.
Cinnamon let his mind wander as Vitus argued and cajoled. He could hear voices from the neighbouring tents: some soldiers singing off-key, a few of them slurring their words drunkenly; two men discussing yesterday's chariot races; and then, somewhere nearby, but quiet, a woman's voice. The woman sounded distressed, almost agitated. Her voice grew louder as he listened, and suddenly, she stumbled into the tent.
She was being manhandled by two more of the guards, their uniforms showing that they were part of the same unit that had captured Vitus and Cinnamon. She was about thirty years old, tall, and very pretty, in a foreign sort of way. Although she was dressed in a linen gown, of the sort many of the wealthier imperial women wore, her features and her musical accent proclaimed her to be Estavaca. Her long, dark hair flowed down her back like a waterfall.
“I tell you, fools,” She exclaimed to the men who were restraining her, “I am here for my child! I have nothing to do with your stupid young men.”
Cinnamon watched as Vitus' expression momentarily brightened. Then, just as quickly, Vitus frowned, and, quite loudly, he shouted, “Unhand her! You cads, treating a woman that way!”
The guards exchanged meaningful glances. “See?” one of them said, “they know each other.”
“All in this together, I see?” Another guard asked, glancing from the woman, to Vitus, to Cinnamon.
“I do not know your young imperial fools!” The woman spat out. “Contact the governor of this province, and you will find -”
“The law speaks 'Silence',” snarled one of the guards, threatening the woman with a raised fist. She glared at him, but was quiet.
“The governor again, I see?” The burly chief raised an eyebrow. “They do know each other.”
“Unhand her, she's done nothing,” Vitus said again. Cinnamon gaped. He was certain, absolutely certain, that Vitus didn't know this woman. Whatever Vitus was playing at, Cinnamon was sure it was just going to get them into more trouble. The burly man, though smiled.
“It all makes sense, eh? Young man, pretty woman . . .”
The woman's cheeks blazed red, “I told you, I do not know him. I have a right to be on this side of the border, and if you think I am associated with a puppy of an imperial - “
She was interrupted again, this time by Vitus. To Cinnamon's surprise, Vitus, too, was blushing, as he said, “Just send her home, please? It isn't her fault, you know.”
“So, you admit to it, do you?”
Vitus shrugged, but his expression was meaningful. Cinnamon began to sweat. Oh, now they'd be painted as the worst sort of traitors, for sure!
The burly man rubbed his forehead, as if to ward off a headache. He said, “Alright. Take them all out to be executed.”
The woman gasped, and Cinnamon could feel little pinpricks of tears starting to well up in his eyes. Stupid Vitus! He had gone and gotten them killed!
Looking calm and comfortable again, Vitus cleared his throat. “I believe you have forgotten something.”
The burly man raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” He asked.
Vitus nodded, “I wasn't lying when I said that I was part of the governor's staff. He will be extremely disappointed if he finds out you had his junior attaché killed, along with an innocent, if idiotic, slave, and a woman who wasn't pulled into any of this of her own accord. In fact,” Vitus added thoughtfully, “the Eminent Governor may have the lot of you executed, in retribution.”
“So, we turn you over to his guards come morning.” The burly man shrugged.
“And face the governor's wrath when I tell you how poorly you've been treating the woman?”
“I thought she was your woman, not the governor's,” commented the head guard.
Vitus shrugged, looking mysterious, as the woman blushed profusely and looked haughty. Cinnamon just blinked, his chest heaving, shocked by Vitus' audacity.
“I have a better idea,” Vitus suggested, “One that keeps us all out of trouble.”
“I'm listening.”
“You take the woman over to her side of the border. Let her go. Keep a couple of bowmen trained on her, just in case, make sure she takes off and stays the heck away from the crossing. Just remember, if the governor finds out you've harmed her, without cause, well, I can't speak for what he'll do. As for me and Cinnamon here, you bind our hands, and send two of your guys to walk us home. Three or four, if you don't trust us and you can spare the men. They can walk us straight to the governor's offices, where someone will vouch for us. If they tell some story involving me being drunk and disorderly, we all get off with no harm done. Deal?”
The burly man seemed to consider this for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Deal.”
The woman threw Vitus a grateful look as she was dragged from the room.
YOU ARE READING
The Baby and the Battlefield
FantasyA baby? On a battlefield? Marcus is a clerk in the Imperial army. When he finds an abandoned baby on a battlefield, he has no idea what to do with her. His best friend is no help; he thinks Marcus is a sucker for taking the kid in. The slave who end...
