“What of Felix?” Artorius asked. Diana shook her head.
“I don’t know. They won’t allow me anywhere near that room. I heard men shouting at each other inside there…I also saw some soldiers remove the bodies.” She wiped her eyes briefly at the thought of poor Kiana.
“The wound is deep, but it should heal over time,” she said at last, changing the subject.
“I hope I don’t start bleeding and make a mess on your bed,” Artorius said, still feeling a bit embarrassed.
“The bandage will hold, but that armor of yours is pretty filthy. It would be best if you took it off. Plus you would be more comfortable.”
“Alright then,” he replied. “I will just need some help undoing the straps and getting it off.” As he sat up, Diana slid behind him and with much efficiency helped him remove his armor. He felt a stabbing pain in his leg as a muscle spasm ripped into the wound. He gasped and fell back into Diana, suddenly panting and sweating. She held onto him and rocked him gently.
“Shh, it’s alright now,” she whispered with a soft laugh as she lowered him onto the bed, seamlessly removing his armor in the process. Diana then walked over to a table, where she laid his armor next to his helmet and weapons. She wrung out a cloth from a basin of water but before she laid it on his forehead she lightly kissed it on impulse.
“Get some rest,” she said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Artorius was asleep before she left the room. His dreams were filled with images unknown to him before, things he could not describe, just feel. Radiant beauty, a world beyond that of his life on the frontier seemed to beckon him. His world would then turn fiery red as a spasm would make the wound scream in pain, waking him from his slumber. It was then that he would be haunted by images of Felix, the young man he had trained and who looked to him as a mentor. The lad was far more gravely wounded than he. Artorius was not known to pray, but at that moment he prayed to any god or spirit that would listen that the young man would be spared.
The room he was in was completely dark, save for a small lamp on the table that cast a soft glow on his armor and helmet. As the spasm subsided and he felt that any gods who were listening had already decided Felix’s fate, he was immediately returned to his dreams. All the while he could feel the ghost of her kiss.
“You brought me here for this?” the town surgeon said indignantly. “The man’s slashed through the guts! Give him some wine to numb the pain and let him be on his way.” As the man turned to leave Praxus stood in the doorway and slammed his hand into his shoulder.
“The lad means a lot to me,” he growled. “One hundred denarii if you can save his life.”
“It’s not a matter of price,” the surgeon protested. “It’s a matter of practicality. When ones guts are ripped open there is no saving them!”
“Sir you might want to have a look at this,” the surgeon’s young assistant said. He had removed the bandaged and was examining the wound. A legionary knelt on either side of Felix, each clutching one of his hands. The men’s faces remained stoic, but their hands trembled in anguish. Felix was their brother, and they were not going to let him pass into the afterlife alone and forgotten. The young legionary simply lay there, his eyes twitching as he came in and out of consciousness. The surgeon sighed and turned back to the scene.
“What is it?” he asked, gazing at the wound.
“The guts have not been severed,” the assistant observed. A glint of hope crossed his young face. “The muscles have been severed, yes. But the organs and intestines remain intact. We can save this man!”
“By Juno you are right,” the surgeon said in shock. “The chance of infection means he could suffer even more, but there is hope for this lad.” He then rose and turned to Praxus. “Sergeant, I will need as much clean, hot water as you can find. Also get me as many freshly washed sheets as you can.” The Decanus nodded and smiled.
Several hours passed before Praxus went to see Artorius, who was dozing fitfully. Praxus placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, startling him awake. Artorius grimaced as fresh pain shot through his leg.
“Praxus you twat!” he growled. “I was about to have an erotic dream!”
“Well then I saved you from having to explain to Lady Diana why you came all over yourself and her nice clean sheets.” Artorius could not help but laugh, though it made his leg spasm once more.
“You bastard, don’t make me laugh!”
“I’m sorry,” Praxus replied, becoming sober once more. “I came to tell you about Felix. Unless an infection sets in, he may live. His guts were still intact, in spite of the severity of his wounds. Unusual procedure that surgeon is performing. He cleaned out the wound and then stitched up the abdomen wall. He left the outside portion of the wound open, allowing for it to air out and to keep an eye on internal infection. He said as each layer starts to show signs of healing he can continue to stitch up the rest of him.”
“Thank the gods,” Artorius said, forcing him to breathe slow and deeply. “I guess they don’t hate me so much that they ignored my pleas for Felix’s life.”
“No, they still hate you,” Praxus replied with a smile. “But they must like Felix, or at least the rest of us who prayed for his recovery. Just remember, he’s not out of this yet. The lad still has a long road ahead of him if he’s to have any chance at surviving.”
“So tell me again why Artorius gets to live in plush quarters while we are here on the ground?” Optio Flaccus asked. He and some of the leadership within the Century sat around a small fire just outside the outer wall of the house.
“Would you stop complaining,” Sergeant Rufio retorted. “It’s a nice night out here and your bickering is ruining it.”
“Besides, he is the one who saved Lady Diana’s life,” Praxus answered. “Really he’s the hero of this little battle; for anyone concerned about such things.”
“Which I am certain Proculus is,” Camillus added.
“And besides,” Praxus continued, “did you not see that wound on his leg? He definitely got hit worse than the rest of us, Felix being the exception of course, and he’ll heal up a lot faster staying where he is.”
“What I want to know is how he could even walk, much less thrash that Greek bastard the way he did,” Camillus remarked.
“The man’s a tough bastard alright,” Rufio replied.
“So what happens now?” Sergeant Ostorius asked, stretching out on the ground while gazing at the stars.
“Proculus and the rest of the Cohort should be here in the next couple of days,” Flaccus answered. “After that we wait for orders from the Legion. My guess is we will be off home. Our tour here will be done soon; replacements should be rotating in within the next month or so.”
“To tell the truth, I kind of like it here,” Camillus said, looking around at the rolling hills that he could just make out as the sun fell completely beyond the horizon.
“That’s because this area is completely Romanized and feels like home,” Praxus observed.
“Well at least Artorius will have some more quality time with his lady-friend,” Flaccus scoffed.
“Oh come off it man. She’s just grateful that he saved her life,” Rufio answered, handing the Optio a flask of wine.
“Are you kidding me?” Flaccus replied as he took the flask and took a long gulp from it. “Did you see the way she was ogling him?”
“Jealous?” Praxus asked, repressing a chuckle. The old Optio’s eyes lit up.
“Well to be honest, yeah. I mean when was the last time a saucy-looking woman looked at me like that?”
“Probably when you were twelve,” Camillus replied.
“And that was because she was your mother!” Praxus answered. Flaccus threw a rock at him and got to his feet.
“I’m going to go and relieve myself,” he announced as he walked off.