A short while later, Julius watched another militiaman rush into the throne room. I hope it’s more bad news for this so-called king.
“Seems your fellow Romans have discovered the tunnels and have invaded the residential quarter. Excellent timing, I might add,” Laufas translated.
“Well, I hope they get here soon. I’m awfully tired of being tied up.”
Another file of soldiers marched through the room. Just outside the large iron door they began to build a barricade. Chairs, tables, even the benches from the throne room went into its construction. “Seems your Romans are closer than they thought,” Laufas noted as they watched.
Another one of the king’s cronies slammed the door shut with a resounding boom. Julius felt the vibrations through the floor as the man slid a long metal brace into position across the door. Things are probably about to get interesting. He began working surreptitiously at returning feeling to his bound hands, rubbing his palms together and wriggling cramped fingers until he felt the sharp tingle of pins and needles. Trying hard to maintain a look of calm nonchalance, he flexed and relaxed his arms, hoping to loosen the bonds.
“Use this,” the duke whispered. He tapped his boot hard on the floor. The sound went unnoticed by the king and his cronies, who were having a heated discussion around a command table at the back of the room. A short blade shot up out of the back of his boot.
One eye on the few remaining guards who huddled together, apparently gossiping about the Roman attacks, Julius inched closer to the duke then crouched, carefully shifting to position himself over the blade to slice the tough leather cords, and not his hands and fingers. I’m sure we look absurd. A five-year-old should be able to catch us, Julius thought, waiting for a guard to glance their way and cry the alarm. But it must have been his lucky day, for his bonds were shredded almost to the breaking point when the duke hissed, “Stop.
“You don’t want them to know you’re untied, and with the bonds still on, it looks more convincing,” the duke explained. Nodding, Julius wiggled a pace or two away from the captured general who, looking back over his shoulder at an awkward angle, went to work on his own bonds.
With his task complete, the duke tapped his toe hard again, and the heel blade slid back into his boot.
“Nice contraption,” Julius said.
“It definitely has its uses.”
Tearful cries and the sobs of women and children alerted Julius. He craned his head around, trying to find the source of the sound. Corbus came around the edge of the dais, smiling triumphantly as he led a roped line of women and children. Julius felt the duke stiffen next to him as he, too, saw the prisoners. Not prisoners, hostages, Julius thought as he saw the senatora in the group as well. At least she’s awake now.
Swaggering, Corbus brought them before the king. The line bunched together, women and children drawing close for comfort. Bowing low, Corbus cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. Scowling, the king returned to the dais and settled on the throne to listen to the assassin.
Unable to understand Corbus’s Norse, Julius focused his attention on the duke. He saw the duke’s eyes narrow, then his brows came down in a frown. “Sir? What is going to happen?” Julius whispered.
“They want us to give an oath of loyalty. If we don’t, those hostages will die. I cannot swear; it violates my blood oath to the rightful king, sacred above all others.”
Julius looked back to the dais, where the king appeared to be considering Corbus’s idea. “What about your wife?” Julius asked quietly, turning to the duke. Tears were rolling down the duke’s face as he stared at the floor.
There must be another way out of this! “Can you stall him?” Julius asked urgently. “Delay him as much as possible? The legions will be here, I know it. We just have to give them more time.”
Laufas turned to look at the centurion. “That is our only hope. A drowning man grasps at any branch, no matter how thin.” He wiped his face on his shoulder, his face hardening with a look of steely determination. “We shall stall, Centurion Caesar, we shall stall.”
There came a pause in the conversation. In fact, the entire throne room seemed to have gone silent. Julius slowly scanned the room, looking for the disturbance. Then he heard it-the sound of fighting! Yes! Here comes our rescue team! Julius thought excitedly, cracking a smile that he quickly tried to cover by dropping his head.
Listening to the clash and clang of swords and axes that filtered faintly through the barred door, Julius tried to imagine what it was like outside, legionnaires fighting to take the barricaded position, most likely taking heavy casualties from the heavily armed defenders.
Corbus spoke above the sounds of battle. “It makes no matter, Roman, that your friends are here. They shall never enter this chamber. And you, my dear duke, shall have submitted to the Copper Throne as you should.” He pointed his dagger at the duke, then turned and roughly pulled the woman who must have been Laufas’ wife from the line. He sliced her free of the rest of the hostages, and Senatora Pelia fell in a heap with two small girls. She pulled them to her as they cried, eyes full of hatred as she stared at Corbus.
The king rose from the dais to stand before the Copper Throne, its burnished metal creating a shimmering halo around him. But he was no saint. He stepped in close to the cowering woman and caressed her face with his hand. She shook visibly, tears running down her face. He said something in Norse, accompanied by crude gestures that made Julius grimace. The king traced his finger down the nape of the duchess’ neck, talking in a low voice the whole while. Julius saw Laufas try to rise to his feet, but the strong hands of two guards kept him down.
“Asta!” he cried.
The king smiled at the duke’s attempts to free himself. He slid one of his needle-sharp blades out of his gauntlet, tracing the curves of Asta’s body from neck to stomach with its point. No longer crying, she stood shaking in mute fear. Or is it anger? Julius wondered.
Then the world exploded.
Chunks of masonry and metal erupted inward, sending everyone racing for cover. Julius fell to the floor and curled into a fetal position as debris rained down. He peeked up just in time to see a large piece of stone plummeting right at him. Julius desperately rolled to the right, and the stone shattered the slate floor where he had just been cowering. Alarm bells began to ring as legionnaires swarmed into the throne room.
The Nortlanders were in complete disarray. Julius decided to act. Straining his arms, he snapped his bonds. He grabbed a spear from a dazed guard, dispatched him quickly, and went in search of the senatora within the choking cloud of stone dust settling over the throne room. He couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. Shouts and legion war cries filtered through the gloom as legionnaires charged into the room, visible only as outlines in the murk. Surprised but still ferocious, the Nortland defenders joined with them. Julius sprinted toward the location he’d last seen Senatora Pelia and the duke’s family.
He skidded to a halt on the flagstone floor. The senatora was gone. Only Laufas’ two children knelt there, weeping over their mother’s body. He scooped them up and ran, heading toward what he hoped was a doorway.
He found only an alcove in the wall, a place to store weapons, apparently, going by the weapons rack. They must have gone this way! He pushed the children into the corner and knelt beside them. “Don’t leave here,” he ordered in broken Norse. The children nodded, the younger one still sobbing. “Did you see where the senatora went?” He saw the blank look in their eyes. “The nice woman with you?”