Chapter 26

Their eyes watched her, waiting, like birds of prey waiting for the hunters to leave so that they could swoop down and take their fill.

A noise clapped behind her and Marcia flinched, her eyes squeezing shut involuntarily.

Peeling them apart once more, Marcia looked through the curtain her hair had made and saw them all still there. They were still watching her, still waiting for her to break.

Her eyelids were heavy as the air was heavily intoxicated with the scent of candle wax, sweat and fear.

Marcia never knew until that moment that you could smell, taste and see fear as if it was a physical thing in the room, as if it was a person stood by her side.

It made her skin shiver as she forced her eyes open and looked across the tent at Octavia, sat back on her wooden throne.

The furniture had been pushed towards the side of the tent to allow room for an eight foot tall, one and half foot wide, post to be brought into the room.

A simple iron ring had been screwed into its side. It was a simple thing, basic, that enabled her arms to be held above her head as the chains binding her wrists were twined through the iron ring.

Her arms cramped from their awkward position and her feet stumbled as she tried to keep her balance.

"Marcia?" Octavia called her name after a small reprieve, trying to judge her state of mind, "Are you willing to co-operate now?"

Bent forward at the waist, as much as she could with her arms tied above her head, Marcia looked at the guard stood to the side of her.

He was man purely of strength rather than intellect and it showed in his plain features from the brown hair to the smooth chin and the deadpan eyes.

Her eyes flickered back over to Octavia.

They were of a same age but Marcia felt as far away from her as a one hundred year old did with a newborn.

Octavia arched an eyebrow as Marcia forced herself to stand straight, her teeth gritting against the pain as something clicked in her spine.

As she stood, resting her head back against the post like a pillow, the guard slammed his palm against the wood beside her head.

Marcia blinked but she forced herself to remain still, her eyes locked with Octavia's.

The air began to grow warmer as Marcia's heart raced inside of her chest.

Octavia leaned forward on the desk slowly, as if afraid any sudden movement might scare her aware.

She was forgetting one major problem with that theory though. Marcia was chained to a post; she could not physically go anywhere.

"You can end this, Marcia," Octavia rose to her feet and walked across the tent towards her, tendrils of her long dark hair falling from its braid, "Just tell me something."

Octavia held her breath as Marcia gave a small, defeated nod of her head.

Her body sighed silently with relief.

Marcia beckoned her closer until her lips could reach the Commander's ear.

Octavia stared at the post behind Marcia's head, feeling the Briton's breath on her ear and neck as she waited with anticipation.

"You want to know something?" Marcia whispered.

Octavia nodded, "Yes."

"Okay," Marcia gave a small chuckle as she took a breath and spoke clearly, "When I get out of these chains I am going to kick your ass."

Octavia closed her eyes briefly as she heard the vulgarity before she pulled back and stared at Marcia in disappointment.

She wished she hadn't said that.

The smile of triumph on Marcia's lips would be short lived as Octavia turned to her guard, Luca, and gave him a curt nod of her head.

Settling back into her chair, Octavia turned to the stack of correspondence on her desk that was piling up with every day that passed.

As the sound of knuckles against flesh and the small grunts filled the air, Octavia opened her first letter and waited.

* * *

"Oi!" A deep voice called and Lazarus froze.

He was stood , facing the Roman camp, as he discerned the best way to get in when somebody joined him.

"You shall address me, soldier," The voice said again, angry as Lazarus continued to ignore him.

Lazarus's hand lowered to rest on his sword, strapped to his waist, as he turned and looked at the man.

His heart was beating so loudly, Lazarus feared that he would hear it and discover his true identity.

"What are you doing here?" A tall man asked, his eyes were a dark brown but that was all Lazarus could see through the slits in their helmets.

They helped to cover his face.

"I- Um-" Lazarus would need to be quicker on the uptake if he was going to survive this, "I was told to patrol the perimeter."

The man narrowed his eyes at Lazarus, discerning his story.

Lazarus was from Greece so his accent wasn't too peculiar and he was wearing a Roman Infantryman's uniform. The man could do nothing but accept it.

Lazarus felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he held his breath.

"Yes, well, you're being relieved of duty. Go and get something to eat, soldier, with the others." The man nodded to further down the line and Lazarus saw about a dozen Roman guards heading into the camp.

This was his chance and his heart thumped with something equalling fear.

"Gratitude." Lazarus nodded to the other man before he turned and caught up with the group of roman soldiers.

Attaching himself to the back of the ground, Lazarus followed them a short way down the perimeter and as they did so, he found his head turning to look upon the stronghold in the distance.

From down low in the valley, the fort looked almost impenetrable with its position atop the mighty hill and its high walls.

But Lazarus knew differently. If the romans took their battering ram to the ancient wood it would splinter with only a few strikes and the fort would be overrun within a matter of seconds.

Lazarus shivered to think that the only thing keeping that from happening was the perception that they were stronger than they truly were, and his family had helped to achieve that.

His throat began to close as pride overwhelmed him but he quickly turned from the view when he heard the gates to the roman camp opening behind him.

Made from tree logs, it was not built to keep invaders out with the large gaps between the logs, rather just to mark their position on this earth.

With a final look over his shoulder at his home for the past few weeks, the walls glittering with torches, Lazarus turned and looked through the opened gates.

He felt as if he was staring into the gates of Tartarus as he examined the slick mud, the crowded quarters and flashes of red uniforms.

His heart was beating so fast and his mind was working in turmoil as he began to doubt himself.

Maybe he should turn around and get his parents. Surely, Krista would be able to do this better than he would.

As he was thinking it a soldier shoved his shoulder behind him and Lazarus was swept up in a crowd of roman soldiers, guiding him into the camp without his consent.

As he passed the threshold, Lazarus's senses were overwhelmed with the scent of smoke and the sound of conversations, each voice threatening to discover who he truly was.

Even as he thought this a new sound entered the air and it made Lazarus freeze.

It was a scream, filled with pain and fear.

His chest began to grow tight as he remembered why he was here.

"Marcia," Lazarus whispered under his breath as he forgot he doubts and knew what he had to do.

The guard on the gate noticed his pause and took it for apprehension.

"Your first time?" The guard noted Lazarus's young face.

Lazarus nodded, that was all he could manage as his throat closed up, wondering what Octavia was doing to Marcia. It was enough to drive someone insane.

"You shall be fine," the man slapped Lazarus on his shoulder, "Just do not let them see your fear."

Lazarus narrowed his eyes at his shoulder as the strange event occurred; Lazarus could never say that he hadn't met a decent Roman again.

Another scream reached their ears and Lazarus noticed how everybody seemed to pause around him, their eyes gauging the other's reaction.

Lazarus asked although he already knew what it was, "What was that noise?"

The Roman guard looked to a man across from his, looking for guidance on what to say but the other man, a small guard with black hair, did not offer any assistance.

In the end the guard looked at Lazarus and must have thought he had an honest face, or just a stupid one, and told him everything, "The Commander had us take one of the rebel's hostage-"

"-one of the rebels?" The black haired man scoffed, his heavy eyes turning on Lazarus, "She only had us damn well take Frieda's daughter!"

Lazarus opened his mouth to ask how they knew their names but he decided it may raise more questions than answers so he remained quiet.

"Now we shall be surely in for it," The man threw his arms into the air, "Krista will not allow this to go unpunished."

Lazarus arched an eyebrow, you would be surprised.

"To make matter's worse, and just to seal all of our fates," the man took a step closer, laughing manically to himself, "The Commander's torturing her now in her tent. We're dead, all of us are dead, because she-!" He pointed in the direction of Octavia, "-She had to show off!"

Lazarus swallowed with difficulty as the man let slip Marcia's location.

The other guard took this opportunity to step in, their opinions differing on the matter, "Keep your voice down!" He looked around them, in case anyone had overheard, "And it was not to show off, the girl could hold valuable information to help this war."

"Any of them could hold information, but she had to take the daughter!" He snapped.

"I am just going to-" Lazarus took a step backwards but neither of them noticed him, too caught up in their argument to see Lazarus slinking off into the distance.

Lazarus looked up at the sky and saw that the moon was still high, he had a few hours before sunlight arrived.

He hoped it was enough time as he cut between two tents to avoid a large gathering of soldiers, and headed towards the Commander's tent.