A Rebel In The Ranks

Chapter 2

Oleandra grunted in frustration. She had been working the ties on her wrists for over an hour, without having made any progress. The soldiers who had brought her to the Centurion's quarters had masterfully bound her wrists to the bedpost and gagged her. She had expected to be visited by the Centurion as soon as she was brought to his quarters, especially if the men had been as lonely as Legatus Conus had mentioned. But still, there had been no sign of the Centurion - what had Conus called him again? Desmond. That was it. Centurion Desmond. 

Oleandra wasn't sure what had been going through Desmond's head when he had thought it smart to make such a personal and selfish request in front of the entirety of the Legion, but for once she was thankful for something a Roman soldier did. It would have been damn-near impossible for her to escape the sights of over 200 men. But being set up as a personal concubine meant alone time, and she could definitely take a soldier one-on-one. Then there was also the matter of postponing her punishment. Had the Centurion not intervened, the other men might have proceeded to rip off her clothes right then and there. She shuddered at the thought. But, no matter how grateful she was for Desmond's selfish act, she still hated anyone who the Legatus seemed to like, and she hated every Roman soldier. 

She had been six years old when they had come. Her village had been a small one in the East, near a river. She had never known her mother as she had died giving birth to Oleandra and her father had raised her, humble fisherman that he was. She didn't remember much about him - most of her childhood memories has been repressed through years of harsh training - but she remembered the gentle creases around his eyes that reminded her of how much he used to smile.

One night after her Pa had put her sleep and sang to her as he always did, she awoke to a bight red light. The entire cottage was on fire. She didn't know how she had done it, but somehow her tiny six-year-old self had managed to get out of bed and out of the burning house. That was when she saw them, the soldiers, cornering her father with spears pointed at his chest. Oleandra knew that she was only seeing the memory as a child would, but the way she remembered the soldiers was like they were large, golden beasts, not just men in armor. 

She remembered calling out, and her Pa as well as the soldiers turned. There had been a scramble and, in the confusion, her father had somehow managed to free himself. He scooped her up and ran until they found themselves at the river's edge. She remembered hearing the soldier's shouts in the distance. 

Her father put her down and held her face in his rough hands. She didn't remember exactly what her father had told her but one word had stuck in her mind always. "Fight", he had said. Then he threw a log into the water and her in after it. He screamed at her to grab ahold and away she floated along down the current. She never saw her father again. 

She thought about his words now.  

"Fight."

She re-attacked her bindings with newfound strength. But that was when the door creaked open. Oleandra's head jerked up to face it, but then she thought better of it and tucked it into her shoulder making sure her hair fell over it, once again hiding her face. She heard heavy footsteps on the ground, which stopped right near the bed. She braced herself. For what, she didn't know. Groping hands? Maybe a chance to bite any flesh that came near her face? If he ungagged her and tried to kiss her she silently promised herself that she would bite off his tongue. 

But instead of any of this, the soldier just stood there. She didn't turn to look but her senses told her that he was still standing beside her. Oleandra was confused. Was he studying her? Waiting for something? Taking his time? 

Whatever the soldier was planning, he must have thought better of it because a few moments later he walked off somewhere else in the room. She heard the rustling of robes and gentle grinding of armor and then heard a soft clang. She realized that he had taken off his helmet. Curious, she adjusted her head a bit to look through her tangled mess of hair at the Centurion. His back was to her and even through his robes and armor, Oleandra could tell he was muscular.