The Winged Serpent (The Order of the Oath) (24 page)

“I am not fooled by your actions,” Cyrus said eventually, when he could breathe normally, but Aurora still heard the unsteadiness of his voice.

She grinned as she replied, “I know.”

As she left his quarters, she acknowledged that Cyrus would be on guard for the slightest hint of treachery from her, which meant she would have to devise a plan he would not see coming until she decided to strike.

* * * *

It was the dawn of the games, the day they were set to depart for Falerii, and Petricles had barely unlocked the door to Aurora’s quarters before Claudius barreled his way inside.

“It is as I said,
dominus
,” Cyrus remarked from over Claudius shoulder. “She is too ill to fight.”

With Claudius’ back to him, Cyrus could not see his face, but he knew Claudius’ expression was dark, his face twisted into a frown of grave displeasure.

“This is impossible,” exclaimed Claudius with panic in his voice. “More than half my guards, and now my gladiators. That is three of them, is it not?”

“Yes,” Cyrus nodded. “Legalus and Flavius, but they are recovering now. Their ailments were mild.”

Claudius glared between Cyrus and Aurora. “Well hers do not appear mild at all. Take her to the infirmary before she infects everyone else, and I have no one to fight at the games.”

Claudius stormed out leaving Cyrus to lift Aurora into his arms. She was limp against his chest, her body scalding hot to the touch. When Petricles had come for him, he thought she’d suffered a mild ailment. After all, he’d seen her on the training field just yesterday, preparing for her fight on the morrow. She had appeared well, but this morning he could see she was not well at all.

Before Artemisia had left to attend to her duties, she’d relayed that all night Aurora had suffered from a fever, and constant vomiting. His gaze trailed Aurora’s face, her body.

Her radiant skin was now a dull and sallow gray. Her eyes were closed but when she’d opened them briefly, her pupils had been watery, the whites of her eyes tinged red. And as Cyrus held her close, her breathing was shallow, her heartbeat weak.

They were to leave for Falerii at midday, just three hours from then, but she would not accompany them to fight. Aurora could barely stand, let alone wield a weapon.

Cyrus entered the infirmary and gently laid Aurora’s body atop one of the stone slabs that was covered with a soft woolen pallet. The physician had yet to enter, so Cyrus cupped her face in a gesture that to anyone would reveal the intimacy they shared. Her skin burned hot against his palm.

Her eyes fluttered then closed shut. That single act caused a knife to spear his belly. Cyrus did not care if she could fight. He worried if she would live.

The physician entered the infirmary, and Cyrus stepped away from Aurora’s prostrate form. Lycurgus was a weathered old man from Greece who’d treated the wounds of embattled Roman soldiers, going from camp to camp, until Claudius had hired him on as his personal physician. Gladiators sustained many injuries in their training, then in the arena. Most successful
ludi
kept a ready physician on hand.

Cyrus told Lycurgus what he’d witnessed, then what Artemisia had relayed to him, but the man seemed barely to listen as he fussed about Aurora for maybe a few seconds before apparently coming to a conclusion.

“It is all the same,” Lycurgus said. “Food poisoning, just as all the guards, but she does not appear to be in the worst of states. Liquids and broth is all she needs until her fever breaks and then I shall send her back to her quarters.”

“How long?” Cyrus asked, because Claudius would want to know. “How long before she is well?”

“A few hours.” The older man’s expression was stern. “But she cannot travel, nor should she fight. She will be far too weak.”

Cyrus nodded, but he did not respond. Whether Aurora would travel with the rest of them to fight was a decision only Claudius could make—no one else.

He gave Aurora’s still form one last look. He longed to touch her just once, but he dared not with Lycurgus still there, so he left the room and made his way to Claudius’ chambers.

* * * *

As Aurora had known it would, her fever broke within two hours of being taken to the infirmary, but Lycurgus had not returned to check on her, nor would he for the rest of the day. He was far too busy dealing with the more than two dozen soldiers faring far worse than she.

The bitter herb of black cohosh had been left to ferment in the wine. The apple seeds and apricot kernels, when mixed together and crushed into a pumice, were toxic. And when joined with the fermented cohosh, the concoction was deadly.

Chills and aches, fever and sweating was how it would begin, then the agonizing pains in the belly, followed by vomiting. After the convulsions set in, the person would lose consciousness until they eventually slipped away.

Lycurgus would get the soldiers full of enough liquids so that most of them would survive, but she’d seen to it that some of them would not. The night she’d told Petricles she was with Cyrus she’d gathered her items, and the night after, instead of bathing, she’d returned through the secret passageway and poisoned their wine—the bitter concoction masked by the sourness of the drink. With each meal, the guards drank from the same jug of wine until it was empty, and by that eve most of them were ill. She’d learned one soldier had died that morning.

Ideally, she would have poisoned Claudius directly, but he was so paranoid with his meals that she did not even know where they were prepared, or who even prepared them.

Aurora hated that soldiers had to die in her quest to get to Claudius. She did not delight in the deaths of others while in the pursuit of one, but her own life hung in the balance, her own survival was at stake. She could not hope to succeed if she stood against Claudius’ army of guards. She’d had no choice but to improve her odds.

All was proceeding according to her plan. She had taken just enough of the concoction at her midday meal to wind up ill that night so she would be brought to the infirmary by morning. With the fluids Lycurgus left her, the toxins were mostly gone from her body just before midday.

She flung her legs over the side of the stone slab and hopped down but was forced to grasp the edge when she stumbled a bit, her vision blurry for a few moments.

Lycurgus had spoken the truth to Cyrus earlier.

She was far too weak to travel, and certainly too weak to fight. She would not be fully well until the next morning, but Aurora did not need to be fully well to do what she’d planned.

One thing Aurora had learned during her time as a
gladiatrix
, then as an acolyte within The Order, and later when she was sent out for missions as a Keeper, was that no matter a woman’s actions or her position, men had a tendency to remain not on guard in a woman’s presence. Such was the case now.

In a house overflowing with slaves, few utensils were left unguarded. Every kitchen blade was counted before the women were taken to their quarters, the same was so for the wooden swords of the gladiators, no matter they could inflict little injury.

The only place to escape such scrutiny was the infirmary, where those who entered were far too ill to do harm, but also because Lycurgus was a free man, and presumably could be trusted. As for Aurora, because she was a
simple, delicate woman
, Lycurgus did not see the need to remain vigilant.

Thus, his chest of tools, which he used for surgery, had been left unlocked and Aurora was quick to gather two brass scalpels. Two he would not miss, and they were made of brass, not bronze, so she knew they were not his finest.

She found an empty pouch used to keep herbs and slipped the scalpels inside it. With a twine of string, she secured the bag around her waist and pulled her
tunica
over it, hiding the small sac from view.

Lycurgus worked out of a small mud brick structure separate from the abode proper. It was near the barracks of the soldiers, but the entryway faced the training arena.

Aurora slipped from his quarters easily and made her way through the
peristyle
, the roofed colonnade that encircled the arena. She kept close to the walls of the
peristyle
, her body shrouded in the shadows the dawning sun cast over the house.

Claudius’ home was eerily silent, when it should have been bustling with noise and people. Aurora had expected as much.

With most of the guards ill, the slaves would remain confined for the day, while those, like Artemisia, who’d already begun their duties, would soon be forced to return to their quarters where they’d stay.

Of the three dozen soldiers who guarded the House of Norbanus, more than half were stricken, but Aurora still remained alert. Since most of the slaves were locked in their quarters, there was no need for very many soldiers to guard the chambers, thus, Claudius would see to it that those soldiers still of able body were posted around his villa. Aurora knew if she was caught wandering about now, there would be nothing she could do, nor say, to explain herself.

The sound of footsteps stilled her, and she stood as rigid as a statue, her back hugging the stone wall behind her. She held her breath as two guards passed by. They walked along the interior corridor, while she hovered in the shadows on the other side of the arched column.

When it was quiet once again, she started to move along, but stopped at the sound of a hushed voice—a
familiar
voice.

With the slightest of movements, she poked her head out from around the column where she’d hidden, her eyes narrowing on the two figures several steps away from her.

She could not make out their words, but the way the young woman stared up at Cyrus, with adoration in her eyes, Aurora did not need to know what was said.

Jealousy, raw and sharp, sliced through her, piercing her belly. How could he? How could they both? Later, Aurora would wonder why
he
was not yet gone to Falerii and why
she
was not locked within her quarters.

When Cyrus wrapped the young woman within his arms and leaned in, Aurora looked away. She would not, she
could
not watch him kiss another woman.

A woman she’d thought her friend.

Artemisia did not know of her relationship with Cyrus, so Aurora did not blame her. The girl would have to answer to Petricles for her actions.

Cyrus was the person with whom Aurora placed the blame. And for his actions he would have to answer to
her
.

Anger swelled inside her, pushing away the wrenching tightness in her chest. Aurora fed upon the anger, so that she would not feel the pain of his betrayal.

No longer did she hear their quiet murmurs and knew they were gone. Once again, she was alone in the corridor, and she moved to continue on, setting aside her bitter thoughts of Cyrus—for now.

When she heard nothing but silence, she stuck her head out again, but reared back when she saw Cornelia striding toward her, moving as quietly as a ghost.

Cornelia’s head had been down, studying a roll of papyrus in her hand, yet, Aurora could have sworn Cornelia had glanced up at the last moment. She could have sworn her eyes widened then narrowed on her, but when Cornelia neared the place where Aurora hid within the corner, and then continued past her, she decided she must have imagined it all.

Aurora waited a long while before she left her shadowed hiding place. When it was quiet once again, she slipped through the
peristyle
into the empty training arena. Still clinging to the outskirts and the shadows, she ran until she neared the bluffs.

Climbing along the path she’d taken with Cyrus, she entered the cave hidden within the rocks of the cliff. Passing through the cavernous tunnel, she continued toward the beach, which she was relieved to find empty of any guards—at least on her side.

She was certain Claudius would not have left the entire beach unguarded, but he’d probably posted only
one
soldier, whose duty would be to patrol back and forth.

Claudius could not spare any more guards.

The beach eventually came to an end, giving way to a winding, dusty road lined with fig trees, the same road she’d traveled once before as a newly purchased slave for the House of Norbanus.

On this day the road was empty, but it would not remain so for long.

Very soon, Claudius would leave with his party and follow the road into the heart of Capena, then through the market where she’d been auctioned. The trail would eventually wind north, past the town into the countryside nestled between the two cities of Falerii and Capena. Traveling on horseback, Claudius would arrive in Falerii with his men just before supper, where they would spend the night and rise the following dawn for the games.

Or at least that was
Claudius’
plan.

Aurora had her own—and since she was on foot, she would have to move quickly if she had any hope of seeing it through.

Chapter Ten

Aurora ran the entire way into the center of Capena. Still laboring under her weak condition she was winded upon her arrival, but was relieved that even in poor form, her quick gate had eaten up the distance faster than the slow horse trot of Claudius’ party.