Chapter 21

Marcia watched Lazarus leave with disdain.

Stood on the wall, she watched him slip from the doors with Leonidas, and disappear into the forest, her fingers curled around her bow in anger.

Krista had allowed Lazarus to leave with Leonidas on his first sanctioned mission.

Marcia had received the news with a smile but inside her stomach was coiling with jealously.

It was not a pretty emotion and Marcia was half-tempted to knock Lazarus unconscious and take his place.

Well, maybe she was more than just half-tempted. Maybe she was very tempted, but she refrained herself.

"Keep watch," Marcia told the other guards on duty that evening before she turned and hurried down the stairs.

Jumping the last few, Marcia trekked through the courtyard and through the entwining streets that led off of it.

Her head protested at the constant sound of hammering from the blacksmiths and there were always a handful of people that remained awake, unable to sleep, but most were tucked up in bed, anxious for what the next day would bring.

There had not been fighting for a few days now and people were growing weary, wondering what the Romans were planning.

It was partly why Lazarus and Leonidas had left, to uncover any of Octavia's secrets.

Marcia knew it was for the sake of the war, but it did not mean she had to like it.

Entering out into a small clearing at the back of the fort where a few straw figurines had been hung up for target practice, Marcia snatched the quiver which was left at the back.

Slinging it over her shoulder, Marcia removed an arrow and armed her bow.

Feeling the small whoosh of power as the arrow left the string before impaling the straw-man helped Marcia control her anger.

Switching one arrow for two, Maria watched the pair of shafts impale the figurine on opposite sides of his chest.

When there was no room left to shoot with an arrow, Marcia lowered her bow and took a shaky breath.

Marcia turned to replace the quiver when she spotted someone watching her.

"What do you want?" Marcia narrowed her eyes at the figure.

Night had descended but the torches did nothing to highlight the person's face, keeping their features hidden.

Marcia's fingers gripped her bow, stealing a glance at the quiver by her hip when they did not respond. There were two arrows left.

The air grew thick with tension as Marcia debated how to act when the person took a step closer.

"You're good with that bow," The man replied, his accent pointing towards him being a Gaul.

Marcia could still not see his face but his accent implied that he was an ally so she felt her stance relax, but only slightly.

"Who are you?" Marcia watched him closely as he took a few more steps closer before finally stepping into the torchlight, the amber flames lighting up his face.

Marcia was struck by how handsome he appeared.

Tall, with a thick dusting of stubble across his chiselled jaw, he appeared dangerous, but the smile on his lips was teasing.

Marcia took a hesitant step back when he drew too close, she still did not know whether to shoot him or not.

"You are Marcia, are you not?" The man inclined his head, spotting her hesitation.

Marcia said nothing and he simply walked past her and towards the mannequin, running his fingers down the shaft of the arrow.

"I wonder," The man's accent drawled, "Why are you not out with Lazarus and Leonidas?"

That got Marcia flustered and she armed her bow, aiming it towards his head, "I shall not ask again. What is your name?"

The man arched an eyebrow, as if amused by her reaction but he saw something in her eyes that he did not wish to challenge because he answered.

"Gallus."

Marcia's lips parted in shock.

Gallus smiled with amusement as he watched her lower her weapon almost immediately.

"Argyle's second in command," Marcia closed her eyes briefly, mentally kicking herself.

"The very same," Gallus pulled an arrow from the straw figurine and walked back towards her.

Marcia bit her lower lip, "I apologise for-"

Gallus waved his hand, cutting her off before she could say anything else, "You were right to react the way you did. Afterall, you are a woman alone-"

"-I did not react that way because I am woman," Marcia knew she should probably not argue but she could not have him assuming that she was scared.

"Oh?" Gallus smirked, twirling the arrow between his fingers, "What other reason is there?"

"There is no 'other' reason, just the one reason," Marcia smiled, focusing on how her mother would respond, "I thought you had escaped from the infirmary."

A moment of silence passed between them when she looked at the arrow in his hand.

"Shall I take that?" Marcia plucked the arrow from his grasp, "You may hurt yourself."

And, to reinforce her statement that she hadn't been afraid, and to leave a lasting impression on Gallus, Marcia armed her bow with the same arrow.

Raising her arms, Marcia kept her eyes locked with Gallus's as she aimed at the straw target and released the arrow.

Marcia felt her lips tug into a smile when he turned and saw where that the arrow had landed where the figurine's legs had joined, mimicking the male's private area.

Not saying another word, Marcia turned and left.

Gallus watched her leave with a smile on his lips.

* * *

Leonidas regarded the piece of parchment with pride before he folded it over and slipped it beneath the leather strap on his shoulder, keeping it safe.

"Let's get back," Leonidas clasped Lazarus on the shoulder as he got to his feet, "Your parents will be wondering where we got to."

Lazarus looked back towards Octavia's camp, bursting with soldiers, before he turned and followed his uncle back through the forest.

The first part of their journey was completed in silence until they were far enough away from the Roman camp.

"You did well this evening," Leonidas broke the silence, his demeanour lightening when they crossed into their territory.

Lazarus scuffed his boots against the ground, "I wish I could do more." He had been hoping for a fight, but their presence had gone unnoticed and undisturbed.

"You will," Leonidas sighed as he saw the disimpassioned look upon his nephew's face as he pulled away and kicked a rock through the grass.

"Listen," Leonidas made his voice stern but fair, "War is not about fighting all the time. It's tactics and strategy."

"I know," Lazarus snapped, as if he thought Leonidas was berating him.

"The information we got this evening will help us win this war." Leonidas tried to persuade Lazarus that what they did this evening was important and not without merit.

"I just thought, after I proved to my Mother that I could fight, that she would let me . . ."

"Fight?" Leonidas asked, nodding his head slowly.

"I do not think she has forgiven me for going to Rome," Lazarus uttered the words that had been in his head for weeks, praying Leonidas had not heard him.

But his uncle's hearing was keener than ever.

"Krista understands a lot," Leonidas sighed, "But she was forced into this life. Most of them were, which is why they cannot understand people like you and me."

Lazarus halted in his tracks and turned to look at his uncle, Leonidas's words sinking in.

"You mean you-"

Leonidas nodded his head solemnly, "I volunteered for the arena."

Lazarus simply watched Leo for a while, his lips opening and shutting like a fish out of water.

 "But- but you were a slave!" Lazarus exclaimed, remembering the story, "You were bought by the-"

Leonidas shot him a look, "Gratitude for the reminder."

"Sorry," Lazarus bit his lower lip, his cheeks warming.

Finding the marker, they turned east and carried on through the trees.

"My father was a horse breeder," Leonidas took pity on him, "He wanted me to carry on with the business after his death. But the summer before a parade of soldiers had passed through our village, heading back to Rome."

Lazarus tried to imagine a young Leonidas but found the task more difficult than he imagined.

"I spoke to my father about enlisting but he was a passive man, he did not agree with violence. In fact," Leonidas turned his head towards the sky, pensive, "There was very little we did agree on."

Lazarus was engrossed in the tale that he did not see a small rock in his path and he tripped slightly. Eagerly regaining his balance, he realised that Leonidas had not noticed his embarrassing tumble.

"I put the idea from my head for a few months but it was always there, burning at the back of my mind until one day, with my mother's blessing, I left for the capital, to enlist in the army."

Lazarus swallowed, "But that didn't happen?"

"No," Leonidas shook the memories from his head, "On my way to the capital, I found myself taking shelter in an orphanage on the border. It was a nice place, pleasant company."

Lazarus felt the hairs on the back of his arms begin to rise, an uneasy feeling settling into his bones. He knew Leonidas's story and he knew it could only end one way but he was terrified about hearing it.

Leonidas closed his eyes briefly, the memory too painful, "They came during the night and took all of the boys who were old enough for labour; they left the younger ones."

Lazarus's eyes were wide when Leonidas turned to look at him, his voice filled with venom, "I guess we must be thankful for the small mercies that the Gods bestow."

"So you see?" Leonidas coughed, covering the lump that had formed in his throat, "I too left home to fight. It had been my goal to join the military but even after years as a slave, I soon found a sword being placed in my grasp."

"So," Lazarus licked his lips, "What you are saying, is that I should wait?"

"I am not saying anything," Leonidas reached across and cupped Lazarus's shoulder, "Only that I know how you feel."

Lazarus gave his uncle a small smile, thanking him for his words because it helped. Lazarus had thought himself as an outsider; he thought that he was abnormal.

Everyone would ask why he would want to fight after what his parents had been through, but it was because of what his parents had gone through that he wanted to fight.

He wanted to prove that he was worthy of their name.

"Oh, look," Leonidas slapped him on the shoulder firmly before pointing into the distance, "We're back."

Lazarus turned his head and saw the fort in the distance.

Falling in behind Leonidas, a thought occurred to him.

"Leonidas?" Lazarus began cautiously.

"Hmm?" Came the reply.

"What happened to your parents? Did they ever learn about-" Lazarus was cut off as he came to an abrupt halt, when Leonidas stopped in front of him.

"No, my parents were killed."

"Oh," Lazarus's mouth grew dry, unsure of what to say.

"Pompeia ordered their deaths after we escaped the arena, along with every horse my father had bred on the farm."

A tense silence fell between the pair, only broken by the small sounds of insects flying in the air around them.

"Come on," Leonidas pressed on, his mood plummeting as he unearthed the past and remembered finding his parent's farm razed to the ground years later, "We need to get back."