Chapter 41

The morning sky began to grow darker as the sun reached its peak and started to descend into the afternoon, becoming host to dark clouds that rolled in from the hills.

Leonidas looked upon them warily, but he wasn't the only one concerned.

His group of two hundred began to grow restless and scared as the sounds of battle reached their ears.

The sound was nothing new to Leonidas and Cato, it attacked almost like a beacon, calling them to it, but the others were not warriors.

Farmers, sons, traders, mothers . . . they had had this choice thrust upon them the moment their homes were stolen from them.

Each of them was scared of what the following hours would bring but Leonidas had no way of comforting them.

He ordered the remainder of the food he had brought to be divided between them all, and they all slumped to the floor and began to eat.

Cato, with his dark hair tied back, was crouched, his back resting against a tree, sharpening his sword when Leonidas knelt beside him.

"I do not know how long I can keep them here," Leonidas cast his eyes at the people around them.

Cato ran a whetstone along the edge of his blade, "There is nothing we can do. Krista told us to wait for the signal."

Leonidas looked at Cato, "It's been hours . . ."

Cato lifted his head as he heard the concerned tone in his lover's voice, "They are fine," Cato told him, not wanting to believe the alternative, "We know how long a battle can take."

Leonidas nodded but Cato knew that he didn't believe him. He knew that Leo was becoming consumed with the possibility that their friends were dead and they were simply hiding in a forest.

"Listen," Cato nodded towards the battlefield where, in the distance, you could hear the clanging of swords and the crying of full grown men as they died, "They're still fighting down there."

Leo's lips parted to speak when someone came running over, frantically calling his name.

"Leonidas! Leonidas!"

Leo and Cato shared a glance before they sprang to their feet, too eager to hear what he had to say to tell him to be quiet.

"The signal!" The young boy panted, pointing to the sky over his shoulder.

Leonidas walked passed him and glued his eyes to the sky.

With the darkening sky above them, seeing a single flaming arrow was difficult.

Sunshine escaped through the gaps in the clouds, blinding them even further.

"Where is it?" Leonidas panicked, had he missed it?

Had the kid imagined it?

If Leonidas took them down there now and it had only been a wayward arrow, not the signal, then he could ruin Krista's entire plan.

But if it was the arrow and he didn't march them down there then Krista and the others could easily be killed.

Leonidas had to make a decision when something caught his eye.

There!

Looking directly in front of him, two arrows had been shot directly up into the sky. They were on fire.

Frieda had obviously deduced that he may have missed the first arrow and this time had sent two of them.

Leonidas ordered everybody to move out when he turned and looked at Cato, "To war then."

Cato dropped his whetstone and walked over to him, sword dangling by his side, "To war."

The time taken to travel down from the forest was a lot shorter than the time it took to travel up it.

After hours of waiting, they had finally been given the signal that allowed them to enter the war and many of their followers had grievances with the Romans which they wished to exact on them themselves.

When they reached the forest edged, Leonidas drew people to a halt as they surveyed the area.

The battle had moved away from them leaving a near twenty metres between the tree line and the roman army.

Krista had done the job and drawn Octavia's forces in.

Leonidas was struck by how different a few minutes could change something.

Moments earlier he had been gazing for leagues over the top of trees and up at the sky where only the low rumble of noise told him that it wasn't as peaceful as it appeared.

But now, back on ground level, he could not see to the other side of the clearing because of the mass of bodies that had converged on the clearing and the noise was horrendous.

It sounded as if thunder was rumbling beneath the soil under their boots and the gods themselves were arguing in the field before them.

Gallus pushed through the crowd and reached their side, "Why have we stopped?"

Cato rolled his eyes.

"Gallus take your men and go to the far left. I'll take another group to the far right and Cato, you take the centre." Leonidas split up the army, "Form a barrier around the roman army and attack. We cannot let any of them escape."

Gallus affirmed that none of them will escape his grasp, before he shouted and a third of the group followed Gallus down the left flank.

As the time came for them to part, Leonidas turned to Cato and grasped his hand in his, "I'll see you soon."

Leonidas's eyes burned into Cato's saying what neither of them could voice, 'Don't die'.

"Let's go and get the others." Cato's lips spread into a wide smile, each of them unable to deny their true love of being a warrior for peace.

Walking backwards, they tried to keep their hands touching for as long as possible, not wanting to break the connection, but soon their fingertips were brushing and they had parted ways.

*

Hadrian raised the chalice to his lips and took a long gulp. When he lowered it again, there was an infantryman stood before him.

"Yes?"

"Sir," The man saluted, "The enemy has sent up the signal."

Hadrian's lips spread into a smile as he heard the news he had waited hours to hear, "Excellent."

"Shall I prepare the men?" He asked.

"Prepare them, yes," Hadrian nodded, "But wait for my order to move out. We need to give them time to reach Krista and the battlefield before we arrive."

"Sir," the man saluted again before he turned and marched off.

Hadrian dispatched the same order to his cavalry.

Strapping on his sword, Hadrian walked over to his own stead and hoisted himself into the saddle.

As he sat there, adjusting his robes so that they fell over the stead's rear, Hadrian looked over his army and a new thought came to his mind.

He turned to his trusted servant that stood by his heel, "Any news on Varinius?"

The man shook his head and Hadrian laughed at the news. Hopefully, he would not be seeing Varinius again.

After waiting as long as he could muster, Hadrian gave the order and they hurried towards the battlefield.

Cavalry in front and the infantrymen falling behind, they would reach the battlefield soon.

*

Frieda never remembered being this out of breath when they fought Romans the last time.

Mouth open, trying to inhale as much air as possible but only consuming the horrid scent of Romans, Frieda kicked the bleeding body of a soldier off her sword before she turned to the next and slit open his throat.

Everywhere she turned, the Romans had begun to close in around them.

The next guard managed to grab hold of her wrists, keeping her sword immobile.

Frieda chuckled breathlessly as she was finally faced with a challenge.

With the man holding her wrists, Frieda placed her boot on his thigh and hoisted herself up into the air.

Wrapping her other leg over his shoulders and around his neck, Frieda leant forward and forced the man to the ground.

Releasing her wrists to break his fall, Frieda shifted her weight so that she was knelt on his back with her knee pressing into the back of his neck.

As they landed with a soft thud on the ground, Frieda's weight broke the man's neck.

Lifting her head, feeling her sweat soaked hair across her back, Frieda spotted Diomed.

Four Romans had converged on her one-handed husband.

Still knelt on the dead Roman beneath her like a board, Frieda lifted her sword and threw it at the group.

She watched her blade become stuck in the middle of a roman's back when a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Reacting instantly, she gripped their arm and pulled the attacked over her shoulder.

He landed on his back, half covering his comrade's body, and was slightly dazed as he stared up at the sky for a second.

Frieda, with her sword ten feet away, scrambled onto the other Roman and planted her knees on both of his arms, keeping him immobile.

His stern eyes glared up at her, as if he thought she would be unable to touch him.

Frieda looked down at his belt and saw a dagger laying there.

"Gratitude," Frieda panted as she slipped the dagger out and pressed it to his throat, enjoying the irony of killing a roman with his own blade.

"Kill me, it will not matter," The roman hissed up at her, "All of your filth will perish!"

The blade was pressed into his skin, drawing blood, when she halted. He did not sound, nor look, like a man simply shouting out words. There was something in his voice that spoke of the truth.

"What do you speak of?" Frieda leaned forward, "Tell me!" She pressed the blade back to his throat.

The man chuckled, he knew she would kill him when he told her but he would die anyway, and he would enjoy the look upon the Briton's face when she realised the mistake they had made.

It would be a mistake that cost them all of their lives.

"Your secret army in the forest," He whispered.

Frieda leaned in to hear him clearer over the rage of battle.

"It is no longer a secret." He spat at her face.

Wiping his spit from her cheek, Frieda sunk his own blade into his throat and she watched blood begin to gush from his body.

"Diomed!" Frieda called as she heard the man's words over in her head.

Your secret army is no longer a secret.

How could he know about Leonidas and Cato? They hadn't decided on sending them into the forest until recently, there was no way that the spy knew about it-

"Diomed?" Frieda had gotten to her feet and turned towards her husband when she saw him standing there, his back to her, deathly still.

"Yaarr!" A Roman attacked from her side.

Frieda, not tearing her eyes off of her husband as she willed him to move, reached out and clamped her fingers around the soldier's throat.

Holding on tightly, she shoved his body into the man next to him that had been preparing to hit her as well.

The pair of them fell to the ground atop of each other.

Frieda took a step towards her husband when his body seemed to drop.

He fell to his knees, shoulders hunched forward, to reveal the body of a Roman soldier stood before him.

Frieda's eyes fell to the sword in the man's grasp. It was covered with blood.