The Eagle's Vengeance (15 page)

The words hung heavily in the air, and Julius leaned forward to speak.

‘They tortured you?’

Verus returned his stare with an unflinching gaze.

‘Yes, First Spear. They tortured me for all of these fifty-seven days. They left me locked in a cell too small for a man to lie down in for much of the time, crouching in my own shit and sleeping so little that I lost all track of time. They used hot irons to burn my skin in their ritual patterns, inflicting enough pain on me to keep me in constant agony, but never enough to kill me. And they abused me in other ways, degraded me in a manner intended to reduce me from a man to a slave, lower than a slave …’

‘But you held firm?’

The soldier stared back at Scaurus with a look of triumph.

‘I held firm. Yes, I screamed in agony, I howled in my degradation and I cried like a baby at the shame of their using me like a woman, but I never lost my hold of who I was.’

‘And who are you, legionary?’

Scaurus’s question was gentle, but the reaction to it was anything but. Leaping to his feet and sending the chair flying, the soldier sprang to attention and roared out his answer.

‘Legionary Verus, Fifth Century, Eighth Cohort, Sixth Imperial Legion Victorious, Tribune sir!’

Once Verus had retrieved his seat and sat down again at the tribune’s gentle direction, Julius had asked him the question that Marcus had been burning to hear answered.

‘So, soldier, tell me, just how did you escape from The Fang?’

The legionary looked up at the ceiling for a moment, smiling dreamily at the memory.

‘My torturers became careless. They took my silence, and my downcast appearance for those of a man they had broken, as I gathered they had done with other men before me. They became ill disciplined with their tools, and there inevitably came a fleeting moment when one of them allowed a small knife to fall to the floor without realising the slip. I put my foot over the weapon, and when he turned away to tend to the fire in which his branding iron was heating up I stooped without making a noise and picked it up, tucking it between my buttocks beneath the filthy leggings I was wearing. When they returned me to my cell I knew that I only had a matter of hours in which to act, before the blade’s absence was noted. To understand what I did next, you have to understand the fortress’s construction.’

He raised an eyebrow at Julius, who nodded and gestured for him to continue.

‘The Fang is built on a hilltop. It looks to me to be the sort of place that has been fortified since the beginning of time, and the fortress’s walls are built on top of an old earth rampart. They put up a ten-foot tall wall of stone based on a wooden framework and set with mortar, and over the years the wood and mortar have rotted and aged to leave it quite unstable. I had already realised that the mortar holding a large stone in my cell’s outer wall was crumbling, and I had guessed that it was an external wall from the way it became so cold at night. And besides, I was uncertain as to how much more of their torture I could tolerate, or how long it might be before they would tire of my resistance and sacrifice me to their gods without waiting any longer for me to surrender my sanity to their degradation. The priest who had branded me that day had seemed particularly satisfied with his work, standing back to look at me from various angles in the manner of a man surveying a completed piece of craftsmanship. He seemed proud of his work, and I assumed that with the ritual pattern complete I might be murdered at any time.’

‘You dug your way out of the cell?’

Verus nodded in response to Marcus’s question.

‘As I said, the mortar was rotten. My job with the legion is that of builder, so I know just how far gone mortar can be without the rot being obvious. This stuff was like powder, and the knife’s blade was the perfect tool for raking it out. I had the stone more or less free of those around it by the middle of the night, and then the small size of my cell became an advantage. I put my back against the inner wall and my feet to the wall then bore down on it with all the strength I had left. I managed to push the rock from its place, leaving a gaping hole out into the darkness. Of course I had no idea whether I would emerge over a sheer drop, but a quick death would have been preferable to the way I expected the priests would kill me, and so I wriggled through the hole and found myself tumbling out onto the grass slope at the fortress’s foot.’ He looked at the men around him, his face shining with sincerity. ‘Fortuna was with me that night. I slithered away down the hill as quietly as I could, and given the absence of any moon I must have been invisible to the men on the walls. I was almost at the slope’s foot before they realised that my cell was empty, but the noise they kicked up when they did so was enough to make my blood run cold.’

‘They pursued you?’

Verus nodded at the question, shivering despite the room’s warmth.

‘Yes, they sent out a hunting party of the tribe’s young women, the bloodthirsty bitches they call their Vixens. They came down the hill behind me with their horns blaring at the stars, and their dogs bayed and howled once they caught my scent, but they were too late. The land to either side of the Dirty River is a swamp, you see, covered with a thick clinging moss which conceals deep pools of watery, rotting vegetation. I crawled into the morass and submerged myself in one of these pits, holding onto a trailing bush to avoid being pulled down and drowned. I stripped off my leggings and washed away the filthy smell of my cell and became part of the landscape, making it impossible for the dogs to find my scent.’

Marcus frowned.

‘The first spear told us that it took you eight days to return here, and yet it can’t be more than a dozen miles.’

Verus nodded with tightly pursed lips.

The dogs weren’t able to find me, but those evil bitches hunted for me day and night, their wild cries and curses echoing across the marsh. They never once gave up on the chase, sleeping out in the open and slinking around in the mists, and they had sufficient cunning that I was nearly taken by them more than once …’

He shivered, lowering his head into his hands with an expression of such dread that Scaurus stood with an apologetic expression, patting the emotionally exhausted soldier on the back.

‘I’m sorry, Legionary Verus. We’ve kept you talking for long enough.’

When the soldier had left the room he turned to Julius and Marcus with an enquiring expression.

‘So, First Spear, what do you think?’

Julius shook his head.

‘He’s like an overwound bolt thrower. The way he jumped up like a madman when you asked who he was is a clear enough giveaway. And when you overstress a bolt thrower it’s a toss-up as to who’ll get hurt worst when you finally loose the missile, the enemy or the men around it.’

The tribune nodded sagely at his first spear’s opinion.

‘I completely agree. On the other hand, if he really spent eight days avoiding capture, and presumably living off the land wearing no more than a coat of mud, he must know the ground between here and The Fang quite intimately.’

Julius pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly.

‘Like I said, it’s a toss-up.’

Scaurus agreed.

‘I don’t see how we can ignore the opportunity he presents. Whoever’s going to lead the raiding party will just have to keep a good close eye on him, and act quickly if he looks like doing something rash.’

‘Act quickly? Are you proposing that we take the poor bastard back out into Venicone territory and then put iron through his spine if it looks like he’s about to throw a wobbler as a result?’

Scaurus turned an imperturbable glance on his senior centurion, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Julius returned the gaze for a moment before shaking his head and turning away.

‘And they call
me
the nastiest bastard in this cohort?’

Evening came to the Yew Grove fortress in its usual ordered manner, the distant sounds of shouted commands and stamping boots as the guard was changed at the nearby gate reaching the ear of the sleeping baby, making the infant stir in her sleep. Annia woke, her maternal instincts alerting her to the child’s minute movements, but Felicia shook her head from the chair facing her, and the still weary new mother slumped back onto her bed and was asleep again. A smile of contentment touched her friend’s face at the sight of mother and baby dozing together, and she closed her own eyes to luxuriate in a rare moment of peace, allowing a long, slow breath to escape from between her lips.

A knock at the door snapped the doctor out of her reverie, and the sound of voices in the house’s hall furrowed her brow as she recognised the sound of Tribune Sorex’s voice. He appeared in the room’s doorway a moment later with Desidra behind him, a nervous smile on the older woman’s face clearly signalling her unease at the senior officer’s presence. When Sorex spoke his voice was lowered to a whisper, pitched low enough not to awaken the sleepers.

‘I heard that your assistant had been delivered of her child, and so I thought I ought to come and pay my respects to the new arrival. Here, a gift for the little one.’

He handed Felicia a gold aureus, and she nodded her thanks.

‘I’m sure that Annia will be most touched, Tribune. Allow me to thank you on her behalf when she wakes.’

Sorex bowed his head graciously.

‘Indeed, madam, but there is a way that you can render me some small service by way of thanks, if I might elicit your professional opinion on a personal matter?’

‘With pleasure, Tribune. Perhaps in another room?’

They moved into the hall and Felicia looked to Desidra, waiting for the mistress of the house to indicate which room they should use, but Sorex simply pointed to the front door, turning to the prefect’s woman with a knowing smile.

‘This is a personal matter which on this occasion does not require your presence, Domina. You will favour me with your absence, if you know what’s good for you and your husband?’

To Felicia’s consternation the older woman shot her an apologetic glance and scuttled for the door, leaving the two of them alone. Taking her hand, Sorex bent to whisper in her face.

‘Desidra does know what’s good for her, you see. She knows that if it weren’t for your presence I’d have her legs spread wide on the bed she shares with Prefect Castus at this very moment, since she’s long since realised that allowing me to fuck her every now and then is infinitely preferable to the indignity I could heap on the prefect without very much effort. But now you’re here, Doctor, and you’re an altogether more enticing prospect for a little enforced enjoyment, aren’t you?’

Felicia’s eyes widened at the revelation, and she moved to back away from his leering grin, but the grip on her hand tightened, and she started as he put a hand under her stola’s hem, his questing fingers cupping her crotch.

‘So here’s what we are and are not going to do, my dear. You
are
going to submit to my attentions in an accommodating manner, make encouraging noises and generally do whatever it takes to give me the impression that you’re enjoying it just as much as I undoubtedly will. You are
not
going to call out for help, not that it’ll bring anyone other than a woman who gave birth only a day ago and whom I will have no compunction in knocking senseless given her clearly expressed attitude towards me. And in return for your complicity your friend and her child will be safe from the dangers that so often frequent places like this. After all, there are hundreds of soldiers cooped up in that fortress with nothing better than a selection of saggy, over-used whores to service their needs. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, least of all me, if half a dozen of them were to abduct your friend and she was never be seen again. Or at least not alive. I can make that happen with a few words in the right ear you know, I have a tame centurion who does whatever I tell him to, not that he takes much encouragement. So, do we have a deal, Doctor?’

He tugged at the knot in her loincloth, pulling the garment loose and tossing it aside, pushing her back against the wall and probing vigorously between her legs.

‘There we are! A little dry, but a few minutes of vigorous fingering will soon change that.’

Felicia grimaced at the intrusion, closing her eyes to block out the sight of his triumphant grin.

‘You know that my husband will kill you for this, when he returns from wherever it is that you’ve sent him.’

Sorex lifted the hand that was massaging her vagina and slapped her face.

‘Eyes open, madam. Please don’t think that I’m going to be satisfied with you scowling and crying your way through this. I want to see the signs that you’re loving every little bit of it, or I won’t be able to keep my side of the bargain and leave your friend unharmed. As for your husband’s return, let’s just say that I’ve sent his cohort into the jaws of the nastiest, most dangerous tribe on this entire disgusting island. The centurion and his cohort are going to vanish without trace in the bogs and mists north of the Antonine Wall, and you will be left here as a widow. I foresee a long and entertaining relationship between the two of us, at least until I am recalled to Rome to enjoy the fruits of having delivered the right results to the right people. But enough about me, I think it’s time to introduce the star of this evening’s performance.’

Smiling happily in the face of her horror he raised his tunic to reveal a bobbing erection.

‘Ah yes, here he is, and looking rather keen as well, if I might say so. Doubtless he’s keen to be hidden deep inside you, my dear, and I see no reason not to indulge his every whim, do you? I think you’re about as ready for him as you’re ever going to be …’

Turning Felicia to face the wall he gripped her hair and bent her forward, pushing her face up against the painted plaster and spreading her legs wide with his feet.

‘Stop it!’

Sorex turned his head to find the child Lupus standing in the door of the house’s dining room where he had been playing on his own, his half-sized sword drawn and a pale expression of fury on his face. Sorex tightened his grip on Felicia’s hair and turned her to face the boy. A draught of cold air raised gooseflesh on her buttocks.