Descendants of Rome (#3 in Gladiator Series)

Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

Lazarus looked up from where he sat on the log.

“I still do not understand.” Lazarus told Marcia who sat beside him, running a whetstone over her blade repetitively, “Why did they have to come?”

Marcia raised a single eyebrow, sighing inwardly, as she looked up from the blade in her lap and at the group of men that were spread out around them.

Marcia allowed herself a smile of accomplishment as she saw the vast group of warriors, almost a hundred of them had headed their call.

Dareios hadn’t needed more than a second before he eagerly accepted her invitation to war and sent out messengers. By the next morning, over ninety men had gathered to his hospice.

They set out later that day and found themselves a few leagues closer to their parents. That was three days ago.

By nightfall tomorrow they will hopefully be in Alesia.

“A rebellion needs soldiers.” Marcia gave a small shrug as she lifted her sword up and inspected the blade.

Lazarus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, as his eyes focused on Dareios a few metres away.

He was eagerly tucking into a slice of bread that had been shared between them. These men had to be nearly in their fifties and yet they did not seem to care.

A few carried bows, a few had extra daggers slipped into their waistband but most carried swords, unlike Dareios who carried two swords and a bow.

Lazarus narrowed his eyes on the sword nestled in a red leather sheath on his hip. Lazarus had never seen Dareios remove it, not even to clean it.

“They’ll slow us down.” Lazarus muttered, his fingers locking together with apprehension.

Marcia let out an audible sigh, her sword dropping into her lap as she stared at him with open confusion, “A few hours delay for a hundred extra pair of hands? It’s a gamble I’m willing to pay and one our parents would understand.”

“Our parents,” Lazarus leaned back, “are the reason we’re trying to play catch-up. They do not want us there.”

Marcia rubbed her hand over her face, remembering the way her parents had drugged her, and the way she followed them anyway, “My father said it numerous times back in Britannia.”

Lazarus frowned, “What did he say?”

Marcia looked at Lazarus with a cunning smile, “That I’m too much like my mother.”

A sad smile erupted onto Lazarus’s lips and Marcia enjoyed the brief peaceful moment between the both of them.

“Try and eat something.” Marcia sheathed her sword, resting a hand on Lazarus’s shoulder.

Lazarus turned and stared at where Marcia touched him, her fingers strangely warm on his flesh.

“We should reach port by this evening and then we’re just a boat ride away.” Marcia became aware that her hand was still resting on his shoulder.

Slipping her fingers off, Marcia gave him one last reassuring smile, “We’ll see them soon.”

Lazarus nodded his head and watched her slip away.

He continued to watch her as she slipped some boiled rabbit onto her plate and began to eat. She was a strange girl and yet he trusted her.

He wasn’t sure why because he was fairly certain, if she had the opportunity to put an arrow through his head she wouldn’t hesitate.