Soldier of Rome: Heir to Rebellion (The Artorian Chronicles) (30 page)

“
Alright,” Praxus replied with a nod. “We’ll have to get help for our brother ourselves then. Find Centurion Macro; get a horse and seek out the town surgeon.”

“Yes sir.”

Artorius hobbled around the corner to see what remained of the gladiators trying to make their escape. One of them held a female hosta
ge; Artorius shuddered when he recognized Diana. The man stood behind her with a legionary-style dagger on her throat. She was struggling against his grip, her lip swollen and bleeding. Macro and about thirty soldiers from the Century stood between the handful of rebels and freedom. They were on line, behind a wall of shields, their javelins at the ready. The men from Artorius’ section fell in behind them, devoid as they were of shield or javelin. Macro was negotiating with the leader who held the woman hostage.

“It’s not going to happen!” Macro stated, maintaining his composure.

“Would you rather I slit this innocent woman’s throat?” Heracles rasped. As Diana struggled, he pressed the knife hard against her throat, causing a small stream of blood to escape. She immediately froze up.

“Your commanding officer would not be happy if his precious cousin died because of you! All I ask is that we be allowed to leave here as free men! Grant us our liberty and she will be returned unharmed.”

Behind the wall of legionaries Artorius saw two soldiers talking frantically with Statorius. The Tesserarius pointed over to Macro’s horse and signaled for one of the men to go. Artorius recognized them from Praxus’ section and knew they were going to fetch help for Legionary Felix. He sighed and nodded, now focused on keeping his promise to Lady Diana.

“It is not in my authority to grant what you wish!” Macro replied. “The Senate of Rome has condemned you, only they can pardon you.”

“Then her blood will be on your hands!” He started to slice the knife slowly across her neck, when he saw Artorius limp over to his Commander.

“Sir, permission to end this debacle,” he stated, rather than requested. Macro looked at him and at the gaping wound on his leg.

“Damn it Artorius, where have you been?  You look like hell.”

“We’ve been busy,” Artorius replied. “Now are you going to let me end this for you or not?” His eyes were cold and focused. He hardly felt the pain in his leg. The assailant paused and watched the debate, puzzled by what he saw.

“What do you have in mind?” Macro asked.

“Simple,” Artorius replied, keeping his voice low, “I
break this vile man with my bare hands; the lads can finish off the rest of these criminals and be done with it.” Macro raised an eyebrow at what Artorius was suggesting.

“Are you sure…” he started to say before Artorius cut him off.

“Yes, I am sure. If we don’t do something now, that woman is as good as dead, if not worse.” He winked at the end of his last remark, though there was no levity in the gesture. Macro nodded and stepped aside. The young Decanus then stepped rather gingerly in front of the formation.

“Stay where you are or the woman dies!” Heracles suddenly shouted, pressing his knife home. Diana groaned and tensed up. She was not sure what bravado stunt this young legionary was
now attempting, and the cold steel of the dagger against her throat made her situation even more perilous. She dared not even breathe as Heracles was slowly digging the dagger deeper into her neck, the blood oozing from the wound running down the top of her chest. Artorius stopped and started to unbuckle the straps of his body armor.

“That’s alright, I’m close enough for what I need to do,” he replied very calmly. “What say we settle this like men? You and I, one-on-one until one of us breaks. If you win, you and your men are free to go. If you lose, then your men will surrender to face their punishment.”

“But I have our survival guaranteed right here,” Heracles persisted, grabbing Diana roughly by the hair. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth; waiting for the maddened Greek to slash her throat.

“You are a coward posing as a warrior!”
Artorius spat, momentarily ceasing in removing his armor. “You have to audacity to claim Sparta as your heritage, and yet I have learned more from an
Athenian
about true warrior culture than you will ever know!” He saw the Greek’s face twitch. He had struck a nerve and looked to press his point home. “You have even taken the name of a god as your own. I’ll bet that Heracles is not even your real name, is it? You want to be Heracles; then I will be Theseus; a Theseus with a bad leg no less!” The rebels all started looking around nervously. The very thought that their fate rested entirely on Heracles and his female hostage unnerved them; but now a wounded legionary was challenging their leader to single combat. Heracles seethed in rage. The legionary had lashed at the very core of his beliefs. He threw Diana to the ground, pitching the dagger behind him. He stripped out of his tunic, revealing a well-toned body that may have lacked Artorius’ sheer muscular size and power, yet did not want for overall athleticism.

“I am going to rip your heart out, Roman!” he growled in fury
, his eyes completely black. “Your people have taken everything from me; now it is time I was avenged!” Without warning he lunged towards Artorius. Before the Decanus could finish removing his armor, Heracles flailed a fast kick that connected sharply with Artorius’ wounded leg. The young Roman fell to his knees, biting his lip in pain, as Heracles swung his leg back to kick again. Artorius caught the leg as it came back around and brought his forearm down hard across the knee joint. Heracles gave a cry of agony as his knee popped and gave way. Artorius pushed himself off with his good leg and landed on top of the man. He smashed his elbow repeatedly into the Greek’s face as Heracles fought to shove him off, while attempting to bite into Artorius’ forearm. He then wrapped his legs around Artorius’ waist and pulled him in close, looking to bite down on the jugular. Sensing the danger, Artorius forced himself to his feet, lifting Heracles with him. His injured leg sent a sharp spasm of pain all the way up his back, causing him to give a cry of agony. He then forced his fists beneath Heracles’ jaw. In desperation he lunged forward and drove the Greek as hard as he could onto the cobblestone courtyard. A sickening crunch echoed throughout as Artorius felt the wind knocked out of him, the pain in his leg blinding him. He heard a loud gush of air expelling from Heracles’ lungs as the Greek’s body started twitching uncontrollably. Artorius crawled forward and felt his hands splashing into pooling blood. He sat back and saw Heracles’ eyes open and lifeless, blood flowing freely from the back of his head. The remaining rebels gave cries of panic and horror as their salvation lay crushed on the pavement. One lunged for the discarded dagger.

“Javelins…throw!”
Macro shouted as a wave of javelins slammed home into the hapless gladiators. Many gave cries of anguish and surprise, the events all transpiring so rapidly. The soldiers then drew their gladii and charged into what was left of their opponents. As they rushed past the woman, Artorius crawled over to where she lay. She was resting on her elbow, her neck covered in blood. She looked over to where her assailant lay; the body giving way to involuntary twitches in death.

“Indign
ant, even in death” she spat as Artorius knelt down to see if she was hurt.

“A fitting end,” he replied. He felt the cut on her neck. It was fairly deep
and bleeding steadily; he knew it would leave a scar. He then looked into her face. It was not the first time he noticed just how beautiful she was. Her dark blonde hair touched her shoulders; her bluish-grey eyes seemed to snare him. He had to laugh when he caught himself staring. He could not help it, even with her cut and bloodied neck, as well as her swollen lip, she was absolutely stunning. He had been right to have been enraptured by her that day when he had caught a glimpse of her in the Lugdunum forum…and he had kept his promise to protect her.

He took Diana by the hand and helped her to her feet, the pain in his leg causing him to wince as he did so and he almost collapsed. Diana caught hi
m and helped him stand upright.

“My Lady
,” he stammered, his face flush and sweat forming on his brow. She placed her arms around his neck and clung to him tightly, her head resting on his shoulder. Artorius nervously placed his arms around her waist and leaned against her. He needed to take the weight off his leg, which was cramping and starting to hurt badly. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain, not knowing how he had done what he just did when at that moment he knew he would not be able to walk anymore. Diana gently laid him down, resting his head in her lap.

“I had
a promise to keep,” he said as Diana ran her fingers through his hair.

“And keep it you did.” Her swollen lip had become puffier and blood still oozed from the gash on her neck. And yet she did not seem to notice.

The last of the gladiators had been dispatched and Macro was walking back to see how the hostage was faring. He smiled wryly when he saw her tending to Artorius. He refrained from saying anything, however.

“
My Lady, we do have surgeons who can take care of that,” Artorius protested as Diana placed the damp cloth over his wound. He lay back on his elbows and winced as the medicine on the bandage caused his wound to sting. Diana just smiled.

“They’re tending to your friend, Legionary Felix,” she replied.
She had done quite the job of stitching up his wound. Artorius had lain there, biting his knuckles as she did so, not daring to watch. Though he would never admit it openly, he was terrified of needles. It was odd that a tiny needle and thread binding his wound together unnerved him more than the spear that had filleted his leg open in the first place.

“After what you did for me, this is the least I can do,” she replied. Artorius found that once again he could not avert his gaze from her. Her neck was now bandaged, and the blood had been washed from her face
and chest. Her lip was swollen and cut, yet still she looked radiant. Her hands gently touched his leg, wrapping the tails of the bandage around it. Artorius found himself starting to become aroused, and he turned red with embarrassment. She finished quickly and turned, not seeming to notice, and sat on a chair beside the bed. As soon as the bandage was tied, Diana sat down on a chair beside the bed.

“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 sho
uld 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.