Author's Notes: Another quick thank you to everyone who has taken the time to vote and comment, i can't tell you how much it means to me. I know that some people want more updates during the week, which i'm sorry to say isn't possible. I work 45+ hours a week as i'm self employed, and i have to be social with my family, friends and a boyfriend who gets grouchy if i miss our movie marathons. They stage interventions if i go back to my teenage hermit self!
But what i can do is promise an update a week and make the chapters longer, so i hope it won't be too discouraging for you. I would normally average an update around 1500 words, but i will try for 2500 a chapter. I hope this will be okay for everyone.
Chapter Six
“Then be quick about it.” She said with a lift of her chin, meeting those damned eyes. Her words held none of the fear she felt, nor the uncontrollable shaking of her body. Her family would be proud that she faced the jaws of the underworld without falling at the feet of this man.
Oh Gods, her family. What should be a happy occasion for all of them would now turn to tragedy. Would they ever know what really happened to her or would they simply think she was lost to the sea?
The warrior just stared down at her, face unreadable. It was a force that could have been carved from the finest Roman marble, utterly serene. No thought flickered across it, no emotion darkened those eyes. It was like he was completely untouchable to any outside concerns.
Then he smiled, and his face was transformed. He was that demon on the horse again, the one who laughed at the blood of his enemy as it coated his sword.
He inclined his head, a mockery of a bow. “If you insist.”
Aurelia tensed, expecting him to draw his sword and run her through. Instead, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around so he pinned her to the tree by her back. Her cheek was pressed none too gently against the bark and it broke skin. She gritted her teeth and spat in anger. “What do you think you’re doing?”
With one hand in the centre of her back between her shoulder blades, the other hand left her shoulder to run down the side of her torso and hip, the touch deceptively soft. The tips of his fingers grazed sensitive areas and she cringed.
She stopped her struggles, confused at the new turn of events, her heart beating in her throat. “What are you…”
The hand paused at her hip for a moment before continuing down the outside of her thigh and then, using only the pads of his fingers, began inching her dress up in excrutiating slow motion.
Her eyes widened, mind slow to pick up his que before helpfully supplying her with all the tales she had heard of what happened to women when they got caught outside the protection of their family circle. She renewed her struggles, helped by a burst of frightened adrenaline, trying to kick out at him with her sandal clad feet and hit home.
But he was just too strong for her. He used one of his legs to push her feet apart, making her stance wide so she couldn’t kick out at him again for risk of unbalancing and toppling over. He pulled the hem of her dress up to her knee and Aurelia panicked, bucking wildly.
“Please, don’t!”
There was a sudden tearing sound and her dress fell back into place, minus a few inches of cloth at the back. He had torn a long strip off her dress. Before she could ask again what he was doing, he spun her back to face him.
“Put your hands out in front of you, wrists crossed.” He demanded gruffly.
She hesitated to do as he bid, and his body stilled. Catching her eye, he said “Do not make me hurt you. Put your hands out, wrists crossed.”
Seeing there was no other way, she did as she was told and he deftly used the strip of cloth to bind her hands tightly.
“I don’t understand,” she said in a small voice, watching his quick efficient movements. “What are you going to do with me?”
“That remains to be seen.” He answered evasively, testing the strength of the knots and looking satisfied at his work. “Now, I will take you back to my war party and we will decide your part there.”
Aurelia didn’t get a chance to answer; he pulled her away from the tree by her bound hands and led her to his waiting horse. Letting go of her hands, he placed his own to her waist and hoisted her up onto the saddle before swinging up behind her. The position put her far too close to him. Her back was pressed to his chest from the base of her neck to her tail bone and it made her infinitely uncomfortable. No matter how much she tried to shift forward and away from him, it didn’t put any distance between them so she had to give up.
He laughed throatily at her poor attempts before digging his heels into the horse’s flank and spiriting them back the way they came.
~
Whatever he had expected of the Roman woman, this was not it.
He had envisioned a middle-aged pompous hag, a woman fat on the rich excess of Rome, dressed in heavy finery and standing on ceremony with those around her like she was to be treated like a queen. He imagined a woman who would wail at their coming, fall to the floor and beg their mercy.
This was certainly not the case.
Instead, he was confronted with a young attractive woman with long dark hair and dark eyes. A woman who had stood and defended herself when she had no other choice left to her but to fight. She was nothing but a slip of a girl but she had struck out at him with the force of a British shield maiden, enough to stun him and make him see stars dance before his eyes. She had even drawn blood.
If women were allowed into the Roman army, Kailen would have more cause for concern for the whole of Britain.
He touched the wound on his forehead and pulled his fingers away. No red stain, the wound had stopped its sluggish flow. He could imagine what sort of teasing he would get from the rest of the men. He smirked ruefully, it had been worth it.
It had been a while since an opponent had bested him, even for a scant few moments. Admittedly, he had underestimated her, her size was on the petite side, hardly weighing anything close to those he noramlly fought against. Nothing about her had given him pause. He didn’t think she had enough courage or intelligence to come at him as she did. So now he was sporting a throbbing head and a blossoming bruise as a direct cause of his foolishness.
How long had it been since the last time an enemy drew blood?
He couldn’t recall.
But one thing did stand out about the woman who sat rigidly in front of him. This Roman woman was no whore. The dress she wore beneath the red soldier’s cloak was made of fine silk and, while the adornments she wore were very simple compared to most Roman jewellery, were elegent and finely crafted.
He took a slow careful breath and breathed in the smell of sea salt. She smelt clean, with a slight floral hint that was pleasing to him. A whore could not afford fragrances, let alone the way she dressed and held herself.
So who was she?
In time, he promised himself, all will be revealed in time. Soon enough, they entered the clearing where his men waited for him with two Roman soldiers on their knees and British swords at their backs. He reigned his horse in front of them and slid down to the ground. Gripping the woman by the arm, he pulled her down after him. He knew his grip must be hurtful to her but she didn’t make a sound of complaint, her eyes flashing angrily at him with the promise of retribution. He smirked back, looking forward to the challenge.
“Thank the Gods, I thought they had run you down.” One of the Roman soldiers said to the woman in obvious relief.
“Do not speak unless spoken to!” Snarled Bran, the man with the sword at the soldier’s back. He cut a hulking figure of a man, standing well over six feet and just as broad. In a contest of strength, Bran would wipe the floor with every one of them.
“It’s okay, Verenus.” The woman quickly assured the soldier. “I am alright.”
Kailen eyed the soldier that spoke, this Verenus. He must be a captain of some sort, the gold wreaths on his uniform separated him from the soldier kneeling next to him.
Kailen nodded to Vaughan who came forward to take the woman off his hands so he could stand in front of the soldier. “Congratulations, Verenus of Rome. You and your men survived the tempest only to fall onto British swords. Truly, the Gods have blessed us all.”
The men of the war party laughed, but Verenus said nothing, his gaze fixed unflinchingly on him.
Kailen pressed his lips into a thin line, watching him back. He bent down at the waist, so they drew at eye level, and said “Tell me, are all Romans trained to wish for death, or does it just come naturally to the lot of you?”
The soldier by Verenus’s side spat at Kailen. “We are soldiers of Rome! We do not yield!”
Kailen straightened with an exaggerated look of surprise. “No?” He unsheathed his sword, the blade still covered in gore and he stepped back to where Vaughan and the woman stood. He flicked his arm out and held the sword to her throat. She grew still, eyes wide.
Kailen looked back at Verenus. “And what about your women? Do they yield? Or does she have to die before you will talk?”
~
Aurelia’s breath stuck in her throat when the sharp edge of the sword grazed the delicate skin of her throat. She was afraid to make any sudden move in case it incited the warrior to make good on his threat.
“Do not move,” the man holding her by her upper arms said quietly, his lips barely moving to form the sounds. He squeezed her arms to emphasise his point, but Aurelia didn’t need to be told twice. She held herself statue still and watched with wide eyes at the man who held her life in his hands.
He never once looked away from Verneus. “Well? Am I to take your silence as permission to cut her throat?”
Aurelia closed her eyes in horror and prayed to any and all of the Gods who could be watching them. No soldier would give in to his enemy for the sake of a woman’s life. This really was the end.
With an odd sort of detachment, she heard Verenus’s voice. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Oh?” The warrior said in a ponderous tone of voice, like he was having a conversation with a stranger, polite but pointlessly inane. “Now why would that be I wonder.”
Verenus’s eyes flicked towards her briefly before returning his gaze to the warrior. “Not unless you want a whole Roman legion down on your heads. I suggest you take the sword from her neck and let her go.”
The warrior stood still and with it the war party remained silent. All the men looked to him for a signal, before murmuring to their companions in their strange language. Aurelia wondered if they understood Latin as the leader and the man holding her still obviously did.
The warrior said something in his own language and the war party looked at her with renewed interest. Aurelia shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny.
The warrior turned back to Verenus. “Those are serious tidings indeed for my tribe. Tell me, why would the death of a woman incur such a wrath from the Roman Republic?”
“Do not say anymore!” the soldier hissed to Verenus and got a pommel of a sword to the back of his head for his troubles. He grunted in pain and managed to stay on his knees with effort.
“Go on,” The warrior encouraged with an impatient swipe of his free hand.
Verenus swallowed. “She belongs to a prestigious Roman family.”
The warrior raised his eyebrows and waited.
Verenus breathed out noisily. “And the commander’s Intended. If you kill her, the whole Roman army will wash over you. No one will be left alive.”
The warrior’s eyes glinted with pure vicious intent. “And the name of this commander would be?”
Verenus drew himself up. “Commander Quintus Aquilla of the Legio XX Valeria Victrix.”
Though the war party didn’t understand the conversation spoken in Latin, the name must have been well known to them as a ripple of murderous intent went through them all, most clenching their teeth in sheer hate.
Aurelia felt a surge of hope at their reaction. If Quintus’s name caused such a reaction, perhaps his reputation would proceed him and save their souls. Any sane person would surely see that it would be madness to go up against the might of Rome simply for wanting to kill three people.
“Quintus Aquilla,” the warrior said, as if savouring the name with a personal type of blood lust. “You’re right, of course. Killing the commander’s Intended wouldn’t do at all.”
He finally lowered the blade from her throat and she breathed in a deep sigh of relief, her legs shaky from tensing them for so long.
But it was short lived. The warrior turned to her with a smile that sent the hairs on her arms standing on end, his hand reaching out and taking her chin with a misleading soft touch, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Killing you would be premature. A grieving man could be easily persuaded by those he trusts to seek a different course of action rather than revenge. A man threatened with the harm of a beloved Intended would make him move heaven and hell to have her in his arms again. You would serve me better if you were left alive.”
Verenus could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You mean you want to meet him in battle? You want to ensure the death of your people?”
The warrior dropped his hand from Aurelia’s face and turned back to Verenus. “Oh yes, I plan to meet him in battle, but it will be his death and not my people's. We have some unfinished business, my tribe and him.”
“Quintus will kill you,” Aurelia said, no longer able to remain silent. “You have to release us, nothing good will come in holding us prisoner.”
“I don’t intend to hold you all prisoners. Just you,” The warrior nodded to her. “There needs to be a messenger to relay what has happened here to Quintus Aquilla.” The warrior pointed to verenus. “That will be you. I award you your life in exchange for telling your commander that Kailen of the Silures tribe has his Intended as a War Prize. And if he is such a great man as he boasted, he will meet us in battle.”
“And me?” The other soldier asked. “What am I to do?”
The warrior, Kailen, said something to his people and they all laughed uproariously. The soldier eyed them warily.
“The last time I checked,” Kailen said to him. “It only took one man to deliver a message.”
The meaning to Kailen’s words sunk in and the soldier began to struggle against the hands holding him down. The great barrel chested man who had his sword at the soldier’s back stepped to the side and made ready his swing.
Aurelia panicked. “Oh Gods, please don’t!”
But her cries went ignored. With a nod from Kailen, the man swung his sword with amazing strength and parted the soldier's head from his shoulders.
Aurelia could not take anymore. With the rising tide of sickening vertigo, she succumbed to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.
~
Legio vigesima Valeria Victrix (Twentieth Victorious Valerian Legion) was a Roman Legion, probably raised by Augustus some time after 31 BC. The legion, which had a boar as its emblem, was one of the four with which Claudius invaded Britain in 43. It was also one of the two legions that defeated Caratacus at the Battle of Caer Caradoc. Later the XX helped put down the revolt of queen Boudica, after having routed the Ordovice by crossing Menai Strait in Wales to destroy the Druids' sacred groves in 58.