As soon as the door opened, I could smell the stench of unwashed bodies. I expected him to lead us down into the depths of the earth, but instead he started ascending the narrow staircase. The soldiers motioned for us to follow, so we did.
On the first floor, there were cells, but not exactly what I expected. For a start, the smell was better up here. The cells were large and spacious, with simple wooden-framed beds. On the beds, was fresh straw and a ubiquitous bucket had been placed beneath the small, barred window.
“We are favoured,” I said, which drew a laugh from the centurion. The four legionaries waited outside.
“These are secure quarters for persons of substance who have erred and need confining. The cells downstairs are for the drunken soldiers or the criminals who seek to rob our citizens. Know that you are privileged and this privilege will be withdrawn if you give us cause.”
“And then you’ll put us in with the drunken legionaries and petty criminals? I don’t think that would be very pleasant,” I said.
He looked at me with a shrewd expression.
“Why do I feel it would be more unpleasant for the men than for you two?”
I simply smiled.
“It is permissible to have some more water to wash?” I asked.
“I think that could be possible. Don’t expect it to be warmed for you.”
“As long as no one has pissed in it, I’ll be content.”
He laughed and nodded to one of the legionaries. The man stepped forward and cut the bonds around our wrists.
“I’ll have some food sent up as well. If I can find some cloth, perhaps you can fashion some garments that will cover you more effectively.”
“Are you embarrassed, Gaius?” I asked.
He looked up sharply as I used his name, but then relaxed.
“Not embarrassed, no, but I do have to maintain discipline, and having you flaunt your half-naked bodies in front of the men makes my job more difficult.”
“I’m no seamstress,” I said.
Iona was not following our conversation, as we spoke in Latin. I turned to her at this point.
“If they bring cloth, can you make us clothes?” I asked.
“Yes, but they will be crude.”
“He just wants us not to flash our flesh in front of the soldiers. It’s bad for discipline.”
She snorted and laughed, but with little humour. She looked worried and afraid.
“Don’t worry, little one,” I said. “This is all according to my plan.”
The centurion left us, and one of the soldiers locked the door and then appeared to leave the building. Certainly, they had left no guard on the same floor as us. I went to the window and managed to peer down into the courtyard below. One sentry was by the door, but I could not see how many were stationed inside, on the lower levels.
Iona sat on the bed. I could see she was all-in, poor kid. I sat next to her and placed my arm around my shoulders. At least we were in the same cell.
“You didn’t have to stay with me, kiddo,” I said.
I was rewarded with a small smile.
“I did. My life with them was dead. A few days with you is more living than everything I have had so far.”
We were both tired and aching, so we curled up together on the straw, wrapped in a blanket, and slept.
I heard them approaching. The bare wooden floors and stairs echoed with the hob-nails that they had on the soles of the soldiers’ sandals.
By the time the two men arrived at our door, I was awake and standing, waiting. Iona was still fast asleep.
“Step back against the wall,” ordered one of the men.
Even in his armour and uniform he appeared young; perhaps just sixteen or seventeen at the most.
I stepped back.
One man opened the door, and the other, the young one with the pimples, entered, keeping a wary eye on me. I noticed he removed his sword and handed it to his colleague. I wondered what tales had been told of my swordsmanship to cause orders such as that to be given. I sensed Gaius’ sensible hand on that one.
He placed a basket on the floor and then left, returning with a bucket. Once that was on the floor by the basket, he scurried out again, with his colleague locking the door again.
In the basket, were a loaf of coarse bread and an earthenware pot containing a broth of some kind with chunks of fatty meat and vegetables floating in it. It smelled all right, but was rather watery and lacking seasoning.
However, it was warm food, for which we were both grateful. The water in the bucket was cold and clean, so we drank our fill and then washed in what was left.
We were both very grimy, with caked dirt and blood on our skin and in our hair. To be honest, a power shower would have a job to clean us both properly, so a bucket of cold water and no soap was woefully inadequate.
By the time our warders returned, the food was all gone and we had used every scrap of water, as well as a good amount of straw, with which we had attempted to scrub our bodies.
Having no alternative, we had dressed again in the rags in which we had been captured.
Once more, we were ordered to the back of the cell, away from the door. Once more, one man entered and removed the bucket and basket.
“Could we have some more water and straw, please,” I asked.
The pimply one grunted, throwing a roll of coarse brown cloth onto the floor before leaving.
Inside the roll, were a needle and some thread. Iona opened it and rolled the cloth out, observing that there was enough cloth for three of four people, but no blade with which the cloth could be cut.
“This is useless, as there’s nothing to cut this with,” Iona said.
“Take off your clothes,” I said.
She never asked me for an explanation, but simply disrobed, as did I.
“No, we stay naked until they provide us with a cutting blade.”
The two soldiers returned with a fresh supply of water in the bucket.
On seeing us both naked and not exactly hiding our bodies, he refused to open the door until we clothed ourselves.
“Not until we get something to cut the cloth. Our rags are filthy, so we stay naked until you give us the means to make some clothing.”
The men went away without giving us the water.
They returned a few minutes later with Gaius.
“What’s happening here; why are you naked?” he asked.
When I told him, he snorted and made the soldier open the door. He placed the bucket on the floor and grinned at me.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he asked. He did not sound angry.
“If you want us presentable and to make our own clothes, then is it not reasonable to provide us with the means by which it is possible?”
He grunted and took a small knife from his belt. He passed it to me, hilt first.
“I want your word you will not use this for any other purpose?”
“What good would it do? You know I can take on any of your soldiers without a weapon and still win?”
“Swear it,” he repeated.
“I so swear,” I said, taking the blade. It was a nicely balanced and sharp knife, utilitarian and functional, without the ornamentation that many officers preferred. This was a soldier’s knife, not the sort that a popinjay like Gallinas would possess.
I passed it to Iona, and Gaius immediately saw his problem, for she had not sworn not to use it. I watched his eyes narrow, and knew that his hand could go to his sword in a moment.
“Neither will she use it for any other purpose, I swear,” I said, calming him.
Smiling and nodding at me, he withdrew. The door was locked behind him.
Iona crudely measured lengths of cloth against me, and then asked what kind of clothing she should make.
“I’m not sure the world is ready for the mini skirt yet, but it might be fun finding out,” I said.
She looked blankly at me.
“A short, one-piece tunic that comes down to just below the naughty bits; so a good hand’s length above the knee. That way we can keep out legs free to run or kick, depending on what’s required. Not too dissimilar to the soldiers’ kilts. We can always add leggings if it gets cold.”