Draco had been true to his word, it seemed. He had watched me closely in my impossible situation, braced upright as I was and unable to relax or defend myself against the onslaught of the incessant, chilling rain for two days and a night. When I finally turned up my eyes into my head and collapsed against the restraints that bound me, he had been less than three paces from me and had estimated correctly that I was not going to recover this time. He had leaped up onto the bed of the cart immediately and set about sawing through the leather belts that held me imprisoned, paying no heed to whether he was being observed or not. As it turned out, his actions went unnoticed until the last leather strap gave way, allowing me to sprawl in an unconscious heap on the bed of the cart, tethered only by the iron shackles and chains around my wrists. It was the noise and the sight of my falling that finally attracted the attention of the regular soldiers and brought Seneca, fuming with anger, down around Draco's neck.
At first, he had ignored Seneca's ranting entirely. He had taken up a heavy maul from the bed of the cart and set about hammering at the iron ring set into the side of the cart, through which my chains were threaded. As soon as he had pounded it loose, he threw the maul across the cart to another of our men on the opposite side, who set about loosening the second ring. It was this flagrant refusal to recognize his presence and authority that snapped something inside of Seneca, and Draco might well have died then and there had Caius not turned up to intervene. Seneca, however, was not to be gainsaid. He saw his vengeance on me about to be thwarted and he was not prepared to let that happen. The second ring gave way, Draco dragged me from the cart and lowered me to the ground by the roadside, Seneca aimed a kick at him and Caius stepped between them. Seneca was deranged. He started to draw his sword from its scabbard, apparently with every intention of attacking Caius, and he was leaped on at that point by the officer in command, Vicere, who promptly placed him under restraint and had him removed from the scene by an armed escort. It was during this angry confrontation that I had briefly regained consciousness and been sick before passing out again.
Marcellus Vicere, it seemed, was an honourable man with no hint of vindictiveness about him. Having made the decision to place Seneca under arrest, at least temporarily, he was able to look objectively at my situation and consider it from the viewpoint of Caius, who was adamant that I must survive the journey in a condition to stand trial for my crimes before a military tribunal. He called a halt to the progress of the train and allowed his physician to examine me. But he was too late. The physician had been unable to recall me to consciousness and a high fever had set in. All that they could do was keep me warm and reasonably comfortable for the rest of the journey and hope that I would survive the passage.
Two nights later, while the party was encamped, another of our men, by the pure good fortune of being in the right place at the wrong time, was able to interrupt an* attempt on my life. He had come off picket duty and passed by the tent where I was being held just in time to see a muffled figure slip furtively through the tent opening. He investigated and found the intruder in the act of trying to smother me. They struggled and the interloper managed to escape. The soldier who should have been guarding me was nowhere to be found, and was not seen again; a thorough search of the surrounding area next morning yielded no sign of him, so it was concluded that he had been the unsuccessful assassin.
Everybody knew who had suborned the man, but there was not a shred of evidence to support the knowledge, nor a hint of proof.
From that time onwards, however, it was the retainers of Caius Britannicus who stood guard over me. Caius had told his men that they should appear, to all men and at all times, to hate me virulently, so that only their own loyalty to Caius kept them from killing me themselves.
I survived my fever and lung congestion, and they brought me here to this prison, where I had struggled against the sickness now for two weeks. Caius had been almost distraught with apprehension lest I should die, and had detailed his men so that at least one of them was always on duty, watching over me, even though the danger from Seneca seemed safely past now that we were in Londinium and I was an official prisoner of the Empire.
When Draco had finished his story there was silence between us for a few moments, and I found my eyelids drooping in spite of any effort I made to stop them. He told me to sleep, that he would still be there when I awoke, and I slept.
Some time later, I have no idea how long, I awoke to hear him arguing with someone, although I could not make out what was being said. Finally, I heard his footsteps returning and heard him muttering ill-naturedly about a waste of good food and drink on an unnatural whoreson. I lay with my eyes closed and waited patiently for him to "rouse" me. He did. We were alone again.
"Here, Commander, drink this. It'll set you up." He was holding a steaming bowl of beef broth with herbs and spices in it, and at the first sip of it, the saliva squirted from beneath my tongue. I was ravenous. When it was all gone, I felt much better, stronger already.
"I'll get you some more later. How do you feel?"
"Better," I said. "Have you sent word to General Britannicus that I am recovering?"
He nodded. "Aye, but he won't have received it yet. He rode out with the Regent, Stilicho, this morning, and has not returned."
"Stilicho? Stilicho is here?"
Draco grinned. "Aye, Commander, Stilicho is here. Here, there and everywhere. He has not spent two days in Londinium, they tell me, since he landed in Britain nigh on a month ago. General Britannicus waited for over a week for him to return. Stilicho came back four days ago, and the General was only able to gain audience with him this morning. He went to wait on the Consul shortly after daybreak, was cloistered with him for three full hours and then rode off with him to the south. I know not where they went, nor when they'll be back."
I thought about that for a time. "Good," I decided eventually. "The longer they remain absent, the stronger I shall grow." Another thought occurred to me, and I posed the question to him as soon as it formed in my mind. "What about my case? Do you hear anything of it?"
He grinned again and shook his head. "No, Commander. Nobody talks about you. You are not the most famed brigand of the ages. Few people know you are here, apart from ourselves and Seneca's people. And Stilicho, now, I suppose."
I looked around the huge cell. "Why am I alone here? Do you know?"
"Aye, I know. When Stilicho arrived this place was full. He emptied it. Tried everyone, hanged most of them and let the others go free. No one else seems disposed to try his hospitality."
A cold shadow seemed to pass across me, chilling me again momentarily. "What is he like, Draco, this Stilicho? Have you seen him?"
He shook his head. "Nah. He's the Emperor's Regent, Commander. Ordinary people like us never see the likes of him, even from a distance. But that's acceptable. I hope never to see him, or the Emperor. It would only remind me of how I resent the riches of others."
I found the strength to smile at his little joke. "Now," I asked him. "What happens now? Will Caius come here, do you think?"
"Be sure of it, Commander. His orders were clear. He was to be informed of your condition the moment you showed signs of regaining consciousness. From that time on, no less than two of us are to be on duty at all times for your protection."
"Two, plus the regulars outside?"
"Aye, for the time being."
I moved to sit up, but I still felt very weak. I knew that the best thing I could do for myself now was to rest until my next hot meal came, to conserve my energies and build up my strength. I thanked Draco for his kindness and begged him to allow me to rest.