“We’re getting out through the servant’s entrance.”
They walked through the streets, trying hard to hurry without looking like they were hurrying. At least, that’s what Gwendyrn told his commanding officer to do. It was a hard thing, to walk fast, but not walk fast.
And sure enough, the prediction that someone would figure out that the “raid” was nothing more than a ruse came true, as well. A column of armored horsemen cantered past, no doubt to try to chase down the “raiders.” Constantine and Gwendyrn pressed their backs against a stack of boxes. The soldiers kept going.
Constantine felt his heartbeat slow as he caught his breath. “That was close!” he whispered.
Gwendyrn looked at him. “Not as close as the time I stole all the mead from my village inn. Now that, sir, was an adventure.”
They continued on their way.
“Now just stay calm, we’ll get out,” Gwendyrn said calmly as they approached the gatehouse. The guards were alert, but their attention seemed focused on events outside the fort.
Constantine held his breath as he walked by, only releasing it when they too were several steps outside the fort. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now we get you back to the legion. There are reports of fighting inside Midgard. You’re in charge, sir. You’ll need to decide what to do-take on the general, or take on the Nortlanders.” Gwendyrn pointed out a narrow forest trail.
The two men hiked for about half an hour, eventually stepping into a small clearing where other men were waiting for them. Constantine experienced the second shock of the day.
“Commander Murtes! I thought you were dead!” Constantine said, shaking the man’s hand furiously.
“Not me, sir. One of my men, unfortunately. We switched uniforms and I don’t think their guards really looked at who they killed. I’m sorry he’s dead, though. We managed to get away, so here we are. I speak for Commander Paulos as well. We’re ready to pledge our legions to you.” Murtes stepped back, saluting Constantine.
“Are you sure about this?”
The older man nodded. He explained that the events of the other night had, quite obviously, made up their minds about the general and his loyalties. When Constantine shared the information he had overheard, Murtes sighed.
“I’m not surprised, you know. I once thought he was a better man than this. I’m sure you know that. But these last few days. . well, they could make anyone change his mind.”
Constantine nodded, smiling grimly. At last, he could do something about the general’s betrayal. He had the forces to do it. “Let’s get going then, shall we? We have a lot to do.”
They rode into camp an hour later. Dismounting, Constantine strode into the command tent, which was packed with officers from every legion present. Constantine was gratified by the palpable enthusiasm and energy within the canvas walls.
“General arriving!” cried the guard detachment leader, and every legionnaire in the tent stood ramrod straight, fist over heart in salute.
“At ease, men,” Constantine said as the crowd parted to allow him through to the command table in the middle of the tent. No fancy desks or chaise lounges here! Constantine chuckled to himself. “And please, I’m a commander until further decision. What’s the situation?” he asked.
The next few hours passed quickly. The other commanders had already been working to unify their three legions. Constantine also learned that the forces loyal to General Minnicus had fallen back toward Sundsvall, taking most of the supply train with them.
“Tell the men we’ll go on half rations immediately, and send out hunting patrols right away. We need to conserve what food we have until we can settle things with the Nortlanders,” Constantine ordered. He looked around. “Are there any other steps we could take?”
“Fishing, sir. We’re near the rivers; if we can cut holes in the ice, we can probably get some fish out of them,” a subaltern said after a few moments of thoughtful silence.
“Good. You’re in charge. Gather some former fishermen-I know that the Thirteenth has a few-and get to work right away.”
He turned and leaned over the table to examine the locations of the three forces. General Minnicus’ forces were now a hastily painted black marker to the southeast of the red legionnaire markers representing “his” legions. The yellow barbarian figures representing the Nortland armies stood to their immediate north. “Yellow?” he asked quizzically.
“We don’t have copper paint. Sorry, sir.” An officer shrugged. Constantine nodded.
“Commander Appius, sir. You may want to see this.” Another officer at the door held out a message scroll. Too many men I don’t know, Constantine thought as he moved to take it with a nod. I’m going to have to start remembering names!
He read quickly, then looked up. “You’re sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Very well. Here’s what we’re going to do. .”
Chapter 21
Octavia
Octavia pulled at the heavy chain and exclaimed softly in frustration. The chain, one end wound around the thick wooden bedpost, was secured firmly to her wrist. It gave her some movement about the room, but not much.
Corbus had locked her up and promptly left. Octavia was trying to decide whether she was more worried about when he would return, or why the assassin would have a set of chains already attached to one of his bedposts, when the door creaked open. Her heart leapt into her throat and she scrambled to the other side of the bed to hide. When she didn’t hear his heavy footfalls, she peeked over the edge of the bed.
Three servants stood in the doorway, holding brooms and dustpans. The oldest one gave curt directions in Latin to the other two, a younger woman and a girl of nine or ten. For the second time, Octavia felt her heart leap, this time in excitement. “You speak Latin?” she asked, standing slowly. “Are you Roman? Can you help?”
The servants looked blankly at her, then turned and continued about their duties, sparing her not a second glance. The young woman shook her head sadly and began to clean the ashes out of the fireplace, sweeping them into a large canvas bag.
Octavia tried again. “If you are Roman, I need your help. I’ve got friends outside that can help us escape!”
The youngest girl walked around, collecting dirty dishes and leaving twice to deposit her collection just outside the door. Octavia could hear the rattle and clank of dishes as they probably tumbled into a container.
Octavia was getting desperate now. They weren’t listening to her pleas and she knew that Corbus would probably return soon. Her eyes fell upon the youngest servant. “Please? Can you help?” she whispered to her as the girl mutely collected the discarded tunics and trousers spread around the room. She shook her chain in frustration.
The girl looked at her, then peeked at the other two women before answering. One was building a fire in the now clean fireplace, the other was refilling the oil lanterns. “No.”
“Please! You must help. I can get you out of here too.”
The girl silently resumed her chores. Octavia followed her for as long as her chain would allow. The room was much larger than it appeared from the bed, she decided. “What is your name? Surely you can tell me your name.”
“My name is Slave.”
“That’s not a very original name,” Octavia said.
“Stop talking! Master will beat all of us if he learns you have been talking to one of his women,” the eldest servant now interrupted, one arm on her hip and the other pointing to the clothing still on the floor.
The girl left the room, her arms loaded with dirty laundry. Octavia slunk back to the bed in defeat. She curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, just as she had done when she was a little girl at home. But my father won’t be coming in to kiss me good night or chase away the scary monsters, she thought sadly. I may never see home again. I probably won’t even survive tonight.