Salonius cleared his throat.
“The woods are full of rabbits captain. I expect we’ll eat heartily. And there’s a stream.”
Varro grinned at his young companion and Salonius smiled back.
The voice came once again. “I do have some unscrupulous barbarian scouts with me who don’t really believe in Phaianis. One of them already offered to burn the woods down for me. Obviously that would be irreligious and I could bring myself to give that order. But it’s possible that if I don’t keep them on a tight rein, they might do it anyway. They’re very eager to help, you see.”
Varro laughed.
“I think your biggest problem, soldier, is the fact that marshal Sabian isn’t far behind us and he’s really not going to be very happy with you when he gets here. In fact, I think you’d probably be advised to make a miraculous switch and offer your sword to him and give up your boss.”
“Very frightening. I don’t believe you, Varro. And even if he is, he’ll be on the main road. He won’t come to the woods.”
“I think you’ll find,” Varro countered, “that Sabian has more and better men than you. Our trail’s nice and easy to follow, and the mess you lot have left will make it all the easier. Now shall we stop this pointless banter and get down to business?”
There was a pause again and then Crino’s voice.
“You have only two options, Varro: surrender or hold out. If you surrender, we’ll make it nice and quick. If you hold out, we’ll burn you out.”
Varro grumbled and glanced at Salonius, who straightened and called out.
“Option three, captain: get prefect Cristus here in person and we’ll sort it all out.”
Varro stared at him.
“What?” he asked quietly.
Salonius shrugged.
“You’re running out of time. You want Cristus. Problem solved.”
The captain continued to stare for a moment, mumbling to himself.
“I guess it’s the best chance I’ll get. The only question is who gets here first: Sabian or Cristus. Both of them are about a half day away. You need to keep me alive and strong ‘til then.”
Salonius nodded.
“Alright” the voice called from outside the woods. “Prefect Cristus leaves the fort at first light for Vengen. I’ll bring him here on the way.”
Varro nodded to himself.
“It’s going to be close.”
Salonius smiled.
“At least we’re safe for the night. Let’s get back to the clearing.”
Helping the weakened officer along the deer trail, Salonius pushed into the depths of the wood to the small space where Catilina sat waiting for them.
“All went well, I take it?”
Salonius blinked. She seemed so calm; hardly the same person they had seen a few minutes ago leaving the clearing. As Salonius gently lowered his commander to the ground, Varro cleared his throat and smiled.
“Cristus will be here not long after first light.”
“And my father will be here around then too, I believe. I hope you have something planned?”
Varro nodded, his teeth clamped together in a feral manner.
“Oh, I do.”
Catilina smiled a genuine and surprising smile.
“Then we have the night to ourselves.”
Rummaging in the packs once again, she withdrew several blankets and her bedroll and spread them on the ground to create a thick, comfortable mattress. Smiling, she laid upon it as she pulled the largest blanket over the top and rolled the corner back invitingly.
Varro stared at her and she raised a cheeky eyebrow.
He turned to Salonius to find him grinning. The young man hurriedly turned and cleared his throat.
“There’s a very small clearing about half way back along the trail. I think I’ll keep watch if you don’t need me.”
Catilina nodded at him, turned to face Varro once again and patted the bed.
“We all know what’s happening here, Varro. I’m damned if I’m going to let what might very well be my last chance slip away from me while we sit, cowering, among the trees waiting for the end one way or another. I don’t know whether Phaianis will protect you in the morning, but I’m positive you’ll last the night. Don’t ask me why. Now come here.”
Meekly and nervously, the captain crossed the clearing on hands and knees and slowly laid himself down on the thick bed of blankets.
As he gathered his pack and slowly made his way back along the track toward the small hollow he’d seen earlier, Salonius smiled. It was nice. It was right in a way that, for some reason, he couldn’t quite identify. But through it all, he couldn’t help but notice deep within himself the edges of jealousy roiling around in his gut. Setting his jaw firm, he focussed on the task at hand. Tomorrow morning, one way or another, Varro was going to kill Cristus or vice versa.
Reaching the hollow, he dropped his kit, slumped beside it and pulled a thin blanket over himself.
His task was to make sure Varro was capable of doing this; to keep him as strong as possible and to give him as much of an edge as possible when he needed it. Sadly, while he had a number of ideas of how he could help, a lot of this still depended on Cristus. Salonius found himself wondering what the prefect was actually like and wishing he knew him better.
Tonight would pass slowly. His mind raced with ideas. How could he help his friend? How could he solve this? Catilina was right: he could only solve problems when they involved building or destroying things. Had to got with his strengths. For Varro; and for Catilina.
From back along the track he heard a light-hearted girlish giggle.
Tonight would pass slowly.
Varro fastened his belt around his tunic and looked down at Catilina, lying under the thick blanket and smiling up at him. The faintest rays of the dawn were piercing the deep blue of the darkness and the first birds of the dawn chorus were warning up for their arias. He squared his shoulders and sighed.
Strangely, he felt good; stronger than he had for a long time. Whatever the long-term effects of mixing and overdosing the drugs that Scortius had given him, in the short term, it made him feel like a warrior again. He flexed his bicep and smiled; a smile that faltered as his gaze passed across his tunic and took in the unpleasant blood stains from last night. He would last as long as he needed to. He would last the morning, and that was all he needed.
With a last glance at the young woman lying in the clearing, he sighed contentedly and strode off purposefully along the track.
Perhaps half way along it was a small hollow where Salonius had spent the night. But the hollow wasn’t there; or rather it was, but had changed. Now there was a sizeable clearing. Piles of wood and sticks were banked up against the clearing’s edge. Tools lay on a low rock, and Salonius sat cross-legged, busily working away at something with his back to the path.
Varro cleared his throat and the young engineer jumped.
“Hell, sir! You gave me a start.”
“Deep in concentration, then?” replied the captain as he crouched down next to the young man. Salonius was holding what appeared to be some sort of foot-thick belt and was slowly running it through his fingers, pressing it rhythmically with his thumbs.
“What the hell is that?”
“This,” Salonius replied with a smile, holding the item aloft, “is what’s going to give you the edge against Cristus. It’s not cheating. You’re at a disadvantage, since he’s fully healthy and you’ve a badly bruised and wounded abdomen. Take your tunic off.”
Varro blinked but, knowing better than to argue, did as he was told. Once he was standing, half naked, in the clearing, with the first light of dawn casting an eerie glow around him, Salonius stepped forward with the item.
“Kneel down and raise your hands above your head.”
Varro did so, and Salonius stepped above him and lowered the corset-shape over his arms and gently eased it over his head and chest, down to the wounded abdomen. Varro examined the item as Salonius began to tighten it, pulling cords that were ingeniously worked into the construction.