ALEX WAS INDEED still in his bed in the early morning. Well before Brasus arrived with the morning meal, he coaxed her awake and tried to pull her on top of him for more sex. Alex groaned in complaint and attempted to deter him, but to no avail. She finally relented, but instead introduced him to oral sex. It was fairly obvious he wasn't overly familiar with what she was proposing, and that made it funny to her. His indignation at her quiet chuckles soon evaporated as she employed all the things he pressed for in her kisses on more interesting body parts.
Once Ixillius was dressed, had eaten, and was gone for the morning, Alex washed and crawled back into bed. Her body hurt from too many activities the day before. She was on the verge of dozing off when something woke her back up. She didn't know what it was, or why it had woken her, but she slid out of bed and padded on bare feet over to the door. There were just the regular noises from this time of day. Overly alert, she wrestled the heavy wooden brace as quietly as possible into the rests, effectively locking the door to everything short of an axe or battering ram. When the feeling didn't pass, she hung the blanket from the bed over the window slit – usually covered by Ixillius's cloak at night but open for new air during the day.
She pulled one of the larger furs out of the pile she'd been sleeping on and used that as a blanket when she lay back down. Not feeling the least bit sleepy, but still exhausted, she felt around the top of the mattress, a spot that her gigno used to keep his favorite hunting knife while he slept. Grinning, she pulled a wicked looking dagger from the top of the bed frame and settled it on the mattress in easy reach. She put her back to the wall, pleasantly surprised at how warm it was, and finally started to doze off again, this time falling asleep.
***
Ixillius rode easily on the patrol that morning. It was a different circuit than yesterday, in the typical scheduling style of Aquilus Naevius, and Brasus had quickly assembled a group of men more pleasing to the socially ranked mind of the arrogant patrician for the morning inspection. The Optio had then been dismissed to begin organizing marching orders of the rest of the Century, and Brasus's second, the Guard Commander to the 6th and 4th, Marcus Lucilius, accompanied for the patrol. The jovial mood of the men on patrol didn't affect their attention to the surrounding forest, but it was definitely evident. Tomorrow, they would leave the edges of Bonna for the long march to Rome.
Once they'd returned back to the encampments, the men started singing a bawdy tune that quickly had the surrounding people laughing and clapping and singing along. On checking in as returned and dismissing his men to see to Brasus and the final preparation orders, Ixillius returned to his room. He was trying to think of a way of moving Alex without causing further damage to her broken rib, an injury he'd suffered through four years ago, but without having to request some type of transport accommodation similar to what he'd been put in for the first week. He was almost in front of his door before he realized it was open.
A cursory glance told him Alex was missing. The blanket hung over the window slit and the fur on the bed were not reassuring, especially with his pillow sack pulled half-way down the bed. The breakfast dishes were stacked strangely, neatly cleaned on the washstand. The door bar was on the wrong side of the door frame. The fur bed Alex had been sleeping on was disturbed from the tight roll she'd left it in.
He crossed to the bed and stared hard at it, willing himself to see what it was that troubled him about it. The fur that wasn't supposed to be there was folded back neatly, but the pillow was askew and the top end of the mattress rumpled. He suddenly leaned down and felt along the bed frame where he always kept a spare knife. It was missing.
The bed of furs was next to be closely scrutinized. One of the soft deerskins was pulled out, and the edge matched exactly to one of the three thin scrapes across the floor tiles. At least three thin strips of the leather had been cut, unnoticeable unless it was something that was looked for. He gauged the lengths that were cut and realized they would easily tie his knife to any part of Alex she chose to hide it.
There were no signs of a struggle. Then again, it wasn't like he would expect Alex could be capable of putting up much of a fight. Except she had last night. This morning had been a toll on her just to wake up, though, so he doubted she had much fight left. But then why was the door left open? Why was the bar moved? Why was the knife gone? Where was she?
A messenger boy's rushed footsteps pounded in the hall, pulling up short just before the door to Ixillius's room. The boy was about eight or ten years of age, and he was working hard to calm his breathing enough to speak.
***
Alex had woken after a few more hours feeling much better for the extra sleep. The knife was still close to hand. She used it to cut some strips off one of the furs she used to sleep on and tied the knife to her thigh, making sure it was high enough not to be noticed under the long garment they'd given her yesterday, and low enough to be easy to grab through a slit she'd cut into the side seam. She used another strip for tying back her unruly hair in a tidy braid, weaving the leather into the last few inches before wrapping and securing it so it didn't slide out.
She felt better prepared for the day, and turned to breakfast. The bun and cheese had gotten hard while she was sleeping, but the flavour was still good. She cleaned up the plate and stretched a bit to get her blood moving, hoping to take some of the stiffness out of her sore body, then practiced with the knife enough that she felt better able to quickly bring it to hand.
She still felt on edge, but more confident for being well slept, well fed, and warmed up. As long as there were no more sword fights in her immediate future, she should start feeling better again by tomorrow. Brasus now looked at her suspiciously, so hopefully it would be a long while before she had to take a weapon to hand around him. She'd liked how casual he was with her, and this morning had missed it.
Oddly, Ixillius seemed unchanged toward her. She took a few moments and really thought about him for the first time. It was strange that it had only been a few days since he'd come into her life, but was now the most important figure in it. She knew basically nothing about him, his family, or his life outside of this room, and he knew about the same amount about her. But here she was, letting her mind wander back over the events of the previous day and starting to think in terms of "mine" and "us" ... About her owner.
Her thoughts were happily employed in what other heights sex with him could bring once her rib was healed when there was a quiet knock at the door. Alex froze where she sat, the never-sleeping part of her mind clearing everything that wasn't life or death out of her head.
"Alex?" The familiar voice of Maria called quietly and the door rattled against the bar.
So, Alex thought, she doesn't bother to wait for approval to enter. That was never a good sign in any time period. Alex chose to remain silent and looped her braided hair up and wrapped it into a tight bun that sat close to her scalp. Pins would have been nice for it, but quickly weaving the leather tie at the end of the braid close to her scalp worked just as well. Had anyone seen it, her grin would have been savage. This was how her momma had worn her hair for hunting.
There was a man's voice in low conversation with Maria in the hall. The door rattled harder against the bar, and Maria's next call was louder, and a bit strained.
"Maria?" Alex called, aiming for uncertain and sleepy and hitting something close enough. Her voice still wasn't completely back to good yet.
"Oppido, Maria." The answer was relieved. A quiet set of heavy footsteps hurried away from the door, but didn't continue far enough to exit the short hall. Not confidence building.
"Un momento," Alex replied, using nearly the full extent of her Spanish. She wrapped and tied the rabbit skins securely to her feet, double checking the fit to make sure there was no pinching or rubbing. It was hard to run if your feet failed you, and blisters made an unnecessary distraction during fighting. She ran her fingers over the back of her neck to calm her hackles, the leather collar showing proof of ownership suddenly a comfort. She glanced around the room and messed the bed slightly, rumpling the mattress sheet where the knife had been, then set the dishes strangely – the cups on their sides with the plate upside-down on top.
Alex tied the garment they'd given her last night so the slit by the knife couldn't be seen, but didn't pin it properly, aiming to look like she was hurried to dress by straightening and securing it right once she opened the door. She'd delayed as much as she could. She lifted the bar on the door and hesitated, choosing to set it on the wrong side. If she wasn't mistaken, Ixillius was shrewd. He'd see the bed and check for the knife, see the door bar and dishes and instinctively get suspicious. She didn't have any other clues to leave him, so she'd simply tweak all his gut reactions to things being wrong and hope he'd come looking for her if this was as bad as she was thinking it could be. If it wasn't, she'd be back quickly – maybe even before he returned – to straighten the room.
Alex cracked the door open and peeked around it. Maria smiled broadly.
"Venire, venire," Maria coaxed, motioning for Alex to come out.
"Non," Alex said. She touched the collar at her throat as if concerned.
Maria chuckled. "Maria et Alex," she said, slashing one hand through the air.
Alex wanted to snort a sarcastic laugh at the gesture that the two women would be alone, but contained it deep down. Maria pointed toward the outer door and made a walking gesture, the mock sign language familiar from their month together at the village.
"Maria et Alex," Maria smiled again. "Venire."
Alex smiled the little smile that Maria was used to and nodded a yes. The quick head bob gave her a chance to drop her eyes and see the top of a small lock at the other woman's neck, not quite hidden in the folds of her cloak. Alex made a show of opening the door wider and straightening and pinning her garment before picking up the fur she'd been using as a cloak yesterday. It was over-large and buried her in warmth immediately, but it also fit tight to her chin and hid from any eyes the fact that her collar carried no lock.
Despite turning partially away, she saw Maria quickly motion to someone and heard the same quiet, heavy footsteps recede outside before Maria stepped over the threshold into the room. The Spanish slave stood in the door, awkwardly eyeing the messy way the bed was laid out. Alex smiled and hooked her hand through Maria's arm.
"Maria et Alex," Alex said, warmly, her other hand firmly holding her impromptu fur cloak from shifting.
Maria took a long route, pointing out some things and signing awkwardly in their way of talking, but eventually they were closing in on the public bath again. The closer they got, the more forced Maria's relaxed manner became. The Spanish slave nearly jumped out of her skin when a familiar, warbling caw sounded nearby. Maria made a sign against evil at the odd crow that stared down at them. Alex hid her grin in her fur, pretending to be chilled, and they hurried forward.
The bird had been captured by Hiltraud as an egg, but hatched when the bitch wasn't around. Alex had been there, though, as it happened on her first day in the village, and the baby crow had bonded to Alex. Having rescued more than a few birds over the two years of her latest job, caring for the little crow in its first hours had come easily. Hiltraud had been infuriated. She'd thrown the hatchling into a tree, twisting its beak and badly breaking one of its legs. Leaving it to die slowly, she'd then stalked off in search of another nest to rob. Alex had rescued the baby crow, caring for it in secret right up until she'd been tossed into the pit. She'd even trained it to come hopping over when she whistled.
The little guy didn't look too steady on his perch, the broken leg had never healed well enough to use, and she saw it had fallen off sometime since she'd seen him last. He warble-cawed quietly at her through his still mildly offset beak and she flicked her hand for the 'not now' signal. She was impressed that her little buddy had followed her here. He'd been just learning to flap around on the ground the last time she'd seen him, but he'd visited at the peep hole in the door to the pit many times every day, and each time she'd whistled back to him. She vaguely remembered whistling during the wagon ride into Bonna, but wasn't sure if it had been a dream or not. Apparently not, she thought with a hidden, wicked grin. That little crow could be very useful.
***
Quintus Abelardus had been a Legionnaire essentially his entire life. He'd started out as a slave to a patrician family, born of a house slave and having no clear father, he'd been destined to remain a slave in turn. The family was unkind. He was owned by the son, a cruel boy only a few years older than Quintus, but he'd been collared by both the lord and lady of the manor by the age of thirteen. Watching his master at sword training, he memorized the motions and trained himself while the house slept, and starting planning at the age of fifteen for a violent end to the family and, by proxy, himself. At sixteen, a recruiter had singled him out at the urging of the Legionnaire behind the recruiter.
The family had been horrified, the lord stammering and attempting to argue as the Legionnaire bypassed the recruiter and quickly outsmarted the lord. The master wailing and flailing about like the overgrown spoilt and petulant child he was. The sale of Quintus to the Legion had been swift, and the lord and his lady had still worn shocked expressions as they'd been ushered away. The Legionnaire had handled the freed slave firmly, examining Quintus's arms, hands and face.
"A few more months and they'd have been dead," the Legionnaire had finally said, a wry smile with no humour pulling at his mouth when Quintus had nodded. "Come."
They'd gone to an armorsmith and had the collars cut off, then Quintus had been allowed to mingle with the other new recruits. The Legionnaire turned out to be a Centurion, and Quintus ended up in his Century. The Centurion had taken a special interest, grooming the anger out of the boy and turning Quintus into an honourable man. After years, Quintus had moved on from that Century as he gained experience, the Centurion shadowing his career from a distance like a protective father, and publicly claiming the young Legionnaire as a personal friend.
Quintus survived his first twenty-five, and then re-enlisted the same day he'd been released. That day was now over twelve years ago. In his thirty-seven years of serving Rome, he'd seen too much to easily recall and done things he wished to forget, but always with honour in respect to that first Centurion who'd saved him and given him purpose in life. He now served happily in the 6th and 4th, seeing shadings of his first commander in his latest.
So when he saw his current Centurion's collared woman walk into the bathhouse with the 1st and 1st's Spanish whore, he'd immediately called a messenger over and sent the boy to his Optio with the news. He'd been at the bath the night before, had been one of the men who'd raised his sword to her after she'd killed the upstart slaves, and had seen her defer to his commander once the killing was over. Moreover, he'd seen his Centurion protecting her from the slave in the bath who'd killed the handler.
Quintus crossed the bath as though he was done with his soak, placing himself closer to his commander's collared woman. She was looking around, noting each person and slowing her pace as the Spanish whore tried to encourage her faster. As though suddenly struck with the mosaic on the wall, Ixillius's woman veered away from the Spanish whore and stopped nearer to the entrance than the back, where the whore was trying to lead her.
Quintus dressed efficiently, in his usual manner, drawing little attention from the few members of the 1st and 1st as they attempted to surround his Centurion's woman. She deftly moved away from the trap, seemingly oblivious, and circled back to the edge of the bath nearest the exit the young Legionnaires were blocking, crouching to watch some children splashing. Then she looked right at Quintus with solemn recognition through the young ones' water fight.
The Spanish whore encouraged her again to come to the back of the bathhouse. His commander's woman smiled up at the whore and stood, as if seeing a friend, and slowly walked around the bath to where Quintus was buckling his weapons belt. She stopped in front of him, her expression surprised and friendly as if she hadn't locked eyes with him just moments before. She smiled as if he was an old friend, her left hand patting his sword arm as she adjusted the top of her fur to flash the plated collar. He nodded to her, feeling the urge to bow and resisting because it made no sense, noting when he straightened his neck that she stood as tall as he.
She turned back to the whore, and then looked beyond her to where the young patrician sat who was signaling to the rest of his men around the bath. This woman had saved that man's worthless life the day before. Once he saw her gaze had settled on him, he grinned wolfishly and held out a leather collar.
***
Alex nearly laughed at the grinning, young idiot holding out the locking leather collar – complete with leash – toward her. There were at least twelve armed reasons arrayed around her not to, but it was close. The soldier beside her was aged, but she'd recognized him from the trip into Bonna as one of the men under Ixillius's command. Her gigno had always said to be either respectful or wary of an old soldier, often both. The young fools with high confidence attempting to intimidate her were dangerous, in their own right, but still young and overly confident.
Maria made the mistake of staying too close once the game was exposed. Alex braced for the pain and snapped out a full-strength jab, exploding the Spanish slave's nose and knocking her off her feet to land in a bloodied heap. The soldier beside her shifted and she heard the click of his sword loosen in the scabbard. She covered his right hand with her left, cautioning him silently with a small shake of her head and stopping him from drawing as she heard the metal on metal schwing from a few places behind her. The young ones were a little sword happy.
The idiot whose life she'd saved the day before suddenly appeared less sure of his present course of action. His pride kept him from backing down, but she could see the uncertainty creeping up on him as a slave commanded a soldier.
Time to add insult. She unwrapped the fur, exposing her plated collar sitting high on her neck, looking more like the decoration it was than the burden it could be. She threw the fur she'd just been wearing a short distance, no use tripping on it if it came to fighting, and slowly scanned the room, eyeing each foe levelly and noting that it didn't take more than a second for a shadow to appear in each of their postured demeanors. Maria was crawling backwards away from her, making every sign against evil she knew as she did. The idiot had stopped grinning as his 'loyal' men slowly began to show signs of nervousness, and some outright fear.
Alex knew how to be casually commanding, as well as imperially commanding. Drama was the only class she'd liked taking in school. She was also trained for many emergencies from her work, and part of that meant being the person in charge when blind terror kicked in for everyone around you. She had the benefit right now of knowing the stories from her time in the village were probably well circulated after she'd killed two people here last night, and were most likely well embellished. With an imperial set to her jaw, and the relaxed posture of a fighter, she let a small and mirthless smile play at her lips as she turned back to the idiot still holding out the leather collar.
"Ixillius Traversi proprius Alex," she didn't yell.
Just the right hint of pride echoed back to her, and her raised voice projected quite nicely in the now quiet bathhouse. People had seen the swords get drawn and were quietly and quickly trying to get out, some mothers simply carrying their naked children and running past the nervous, armed youth following their idiot ringleader against her.
***
Quintus felt as though there was power oozing from the woman beside him. His Centurion's collar rested proudly at her throat, the bronze plate reflecting the flames of the surrounding torches seeming to make it glow. Her pronouncement rang through the house clearly. Her tone and posture left no room for negotiation. He could see plainly that there was no lock on the buckle at her spine.
She turned toward the door, nodding to Quintus to accompany. Without a thought to the contrary, he bowed and fell in step slightly behind her. They had nearly reached the nervous and arrogant boys of the 1st and 1st that were meant to block the door.
"I will own her!" The shout was shrill, and the ungrateful patrician's voice cracked.
Alex, she had called herself, purposely paused in her step as the boys at the door raised their wavering swords to her. She arched an eyebrow at them, grinning as if amused and turned back to the fool who was trying to steal her. She caught Quintus's eye as she turned, sharing the joke with a wink that surprised him by making him smile, before turning completely back to the young patrician. She took a couple steps toward the fool, motioning with a single hand for Quintus to remain where he was.
She pointed to the young man whose life she'd saved less than twenty-four hours ago and laughed. She shrugged, still chuckling at him, where he stood clutching the collar.
"Agamemnon?" she asked, in the same clear voice. "Briseis?" she asked, pointing at her own chest. "Achilles?" she asked, stroking the collar at her throat and making her voice grow warm and rich, and then she shook her head. "No," her voice rang clear, commanding, edged with pity. "No Agamemnon."
The youth looked to be working into a full-blown fit. He sprang from his seat, then winced and grabbed at his wounded side, slapping away hands that tried to help him and half striding, half limping around the pool. Quintus watched his commander's woman, but she held no reaction other than continued amusement around her lips and hard eyes. Half way around the pool the young patrician drew his sword, muttering about social status and social privilege above rightful ownership and many things that to Quintus sounded like 'I want therefore I take' over and over again. Quintus was again motioned to stay his ground by his commander's woman as he made to step forward, the 1st and 1st soldiers shifting from foot to foot behind him as they watched her command a Legionnaire while being amused at another who was advancing and seemed set to kill her.
The youth raised his blade to her, arcing a wide swing at the woman holding no weapon. Alex ducked the swing easily and stepped close in one fluid motion. The punch she threw landed true, directly into the fresh wound. The idiot patrician howled in pain, dropping to his knees. She kicked his sword arm upwards and caught his wrist in her hands, twisting his arm. She jammed a knee between his shoulders and rode him hard into the tiled floor. The sword clattered on the tiles as the boy screamed in apparent agony.
Alex caught Quintus's attention with a warm smile at him, and nodded at the sword. He quickly stepped forward and lifted it into his own hand, holding it out to one of the gaping youths supposed to be stopping him from leaving with his Centurion's woman.
"Take it, lad. Your friend may want it back later."
The familiar voice of his Optio was welcome to Quintus, but made the young men jump nearly to the ceiling. They hadn't heard or seen the hunter approach them from behind, and it was an unpleasant situation for them to suddenly find themselves outranked.
"Ulysses," Alex said warmly, clearly, smiling the greeting up at the Optio from atop the screeching patrician who was too pinned to struggle.
She released the boy and stood fluidly, her back to the fool as she walked calmly to Quintus and Brasus, her eyes going to the door as she stepped between them. The boy who'd played at being her man rolled and skulked up to his knees, whining.
Almost as an afterthought, her voice ringing through the bathhouse, she called back over her shoulder: "Ixillius owns Alex."
The patrician turned an ugly shade of red for one so young and lurched to his feet. Quintus felt a surge of battle heat run through him, but Alex again stayed his hand with a touch of hers.
"Stand down, Legionnaire," Brasus quietly ordered the wounded man.
The patrician turned on the officer, lunging, and was quickly caught by his friends and pulled back.
***
Ixillius stepped through the bathhouse door as the screams faded. He wondered at Alex's choice of greeting for his Optio, but discarded the thought for the moment. He scanned the interior of the public bath: it was lousy with 1st and 1st youth, all in states ranging from nervousness to terrified, a woman lay whimpering by the back wall, a trail of blood leading across the floor to her. The blood seemed to be coming out between her hands, held up to her face.
Brasus stood beside Quintus, a good soldier and a better man than most in Ixillius's opinion. Alex smiled up at him from where she'd stopped between his men.
"Ixillius owns Alex," she called back over her shoulder, her clear voice almost stealing his breath.
The youth had angered to blind rage, and ignored the Optio when cautioned by Brasus to stand down. Ixillius noted with cool assessment that Alex silently commanded Quintus to stay his hand, and when the young patrician lunged for Brasus other youths from the 1st and 1st restrained him.
Alex stepped out from between Brasus and Quintus, the Legionnaire turning to follow automatically as the Optio scanned the bathhouse interior for any further threats. Quintus stood to attention when Alex stopped well within arm's reach of Ixillius. He looked down at his unharmed woman, relief flooding through him.
"You do find trouble, don't you?" he said, quietly enough that only she heard him.
She smiled at him, her mouth and posture confident, but her eyes strained and exhausted.
"Brasus?" Ixillius called to his Optio, the name loaded with the questions.
"I arrived some minutes before you," he replied. "But was just in time to see your lady thoroughly unman and publicly disarm that pathetic excuse for a Legionnaire," he continued, grinning, nodding at the wounded youth that now had blood seeping freely through his tunic.
"Quintus?" Ixillius asked, turning to one of the best men he'd ever had the pleasure of fighting beside.
The man told the events, clarifying when asked, in his typical exquisite detail. When Ixillius had turned on the two young Legionnaires still hovering by the door and demanded their sides of the story, they simply agreed with Quintus, shamefaced.
"Brasus, report this attempted theft as a complaint with the First File." Ixillius watched as nearly the whole of the small band of followers paled. Brasus grinned, saluted, and left without further prompting. "I would expect you all to be at your assigned areas doing your assigned duties come the time for the midday meal," he glowered at the group.
"My brother—" the wounded patrician wailed.
"Is among the ranks of the finest officers in all the Legions of Rome," Ixillius interrupted, speaking evenly, "and a betterment to any cohort he commands, even the 1st. I was privileged to serve as his Optio for three years in the 3rd and 1st prior to my promotion to Centurion of the 6th and 4th on his personal recommendation."
A few of the youths started to edge away from their leader. It had not been part of the plan for Ixillius to be well known, and well liked, by their current commander.
"You forget your place, equestrian!" the angered boy cried, his voice cracking again.
"No, Legionnaire, you forget your rank."
One of the youths, looking as though he would soon be vomiting, stepped forward and saluted the Centurion. In a cascade, all but the wounded fool that started the morning's business followed suit. Ixillius turned and walked toward his quarters, adjusting his pace for Alex to easily follow and noting that Quintus again automatically fell in step, protecting her flank.