Chapter 27

Artorius and Frieda were dragged through the night to put as much distance between them and those they left behind as possible.

An owl hooted somewhere in the tree tops to his right and animals scurried away at their approach into their territory.

Argus and his soldiers blundered through the forest, cutting down everything in their path, as they tried to extradite themselves from the battle.

Ropes bound his and Frieda’s wrists and a length of cloth covered their eyes, blinding them from their path, but it did nothing to impede his other senses.

Artorius could hear the swords hitting through the trees, he could feel the soft humidity in the air letting him know that a stream or body of water was close and his sense of direction remained intact.

After being dragged down the hill from the battle they headed west for two hours when they crossed a bridge and then headed north.

For the first few hours Frieda had shouted obscenities at their captives, hoping to alert the others to their location if anyone was tracking them however a swift blow to her abdomen had stopped any further complaints.

Artorius remained silent beside her as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

He could not allow himself to think about Dianna and how she betrayed them or the way she was back with Krista at this precise moment with the Gladiatrix unaware of what the bitch had done.

If Artorius focused too much on what he had been taken from he feared he would go mad.

He had to remain strong; he knew what was going to happen once they reached Argus’s camp and he needed to be able to remain emotionless.

Rheia had removed the dagger from his flesh, leaving blood to trail down the length of his leg before wrapping a bandage tightly around his thigh.

It made walking only slightly easier as a fresh flare of pain jolted up the side of his body with every step.

Focusing on the pain, Artorius tried not to think about anything else as he continued to track their movements.

They travelled a further hour north before the ground beneath them turned from grass to slick mud as a result of people and wagons constantly using the track.

“Open the gates!” A man shouted overhead as Artorius was yanked to a sudden halt, his boots slipping in the mud as he stood on a slight incline.

A few moments passed as horses chortled and men grunted in the distance as the gates were opened and the few men left behind welcomed back the soldiers and their captives.

Artorius took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the new horror he was about to face when his guard suddenly yanked him forward.

Aware that they were walking again, in his hurry to catch up before his guard ran out of rope Artorius lost his footing as he put too much weight on his injured leg and his knee crumpled beneath him.

“Argh!” Artorius grunted as he kneeled in the mud from where he collapsed before he was dragged back to his feet, the watery mud layering his skin.

Seeing nothing through the cloth but darkness, Artorius slowly gathered himself to his feet and stepped forward, unbeknown what lay before him.

Refusing to put his trust into his captor’s hands, Artorius was pulled and yanked furiously as the soldiers dispersed in all directions within the camp, their voices coming from all sides.

Confused and puzzled as to where he was, Artorius felt the rope around his hands go slack as somebody released his leash.

Standing still for a moment, Artorius heard a feminine yelp of surprise before he felt pressure on the back of his shoulders, pushing him forward into nothingness.

Tripping forward and unable to put his hands out to break his fall, Artorius twisted his body and landed the brunt of the fall against his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t get comfortable,” A soldier laughed at them as Artorius heard chains being rattled into place.

Shifting onto his back, Artorius lifted his still-bound wrists and ripped the blindfold from his head.

Darkness from the night sky still blinded him but then a sudden burst of light erupted outside his cage, causing Artorius to squint against the onslaught.

The shadow of a roman passed his cell, laughing at his captives, as the flames from the torch flickered over his new surroundings.

The ground squelched beneath him as he sat in a pool of mud and water, the torch’s reflection flickering in the murky water, as he gazed at the cells he was held inside.

Made from strong metal, these cages were six foot by six foot and built for a purpose.

Looking to his left, Artorius saw that there were almost half a dozen of these metal boxes that stretched in a straight line.

Only three were occupied; to his left held a man Artorius recognized as Quintus; a boy no older than twenty who had been snatched off the streets of Rome and put into the arena.

He had been meant to be a victim of gladiators upon the sands and now, as he sat captive once again, Artorius guess in a way he was.

Their eyes locked but Quintus bowed his head and moved into the corner of his cell, resting against the cold metal after a long walk.

Looking to his left, Artorius dragged himself over and tried to reach through the bars.

“Hey!” A man shouted as the end of a wooden spear was jammed down onto his hand.

Recoiling his arm back inside from the shock, Artorius glared at his guard before the man moved on.

“Frieda?” Artorius called her name, “Frieda!”

In the darkness, he could barely distinguish her figure from the dark mud that she lay in but the flames highlighted her blond hair that fanned out around her.

Lying on her back, Artorius could see that her eyes were closed, her arms spread out beside her.

Pressing his face against the bars, Artorius watched her closely until he noticed that her chest was rising and falling evenly.

Artorius felt his chest sag in relief as he leaned back against the bars and stared forward into the darkness.

Feeling that his mind was about to be flooded with thoughts of Krista and fears of what Dianna was doing within their ranks, Artorius tried to occupy his mind by counting.

* * *

“Krista!”

Krista ignored Leonidas’s calling as she hurried past the line of injured and tended to those most needing it.

Directing a pair down to the river to collect more water, Krista knelt beside a screaming young man with a bloody gash to his head.

Pressing the damp cloth to his head, Krista wiped away the blood with rushed strokes, trying to keep herself occupied.

“Krista?” Leonidas’s voice followed her but it was Diomed that found her first.

“Krista,” He spoke her name softly and Krista reluctantly looked up at him.

His eyes were clouded with sympathy for her loss but Krista did not want his pity.

Turning back to the young man who continued to scream, Krista gritted her teeth against the noise as Leonidas joined Diomed behind her.

“We have to do something!” Leonidas complained, “Now, before they get away,”

“They already got away,” Krista muttered under her breath, closing her eyes momentarily as the inner walls she built up in her mind threatened to come tumbling down.

“I can track them,” Diomed told her, “But I’ll have to leave immediately.”

“I need you here,” Krista snapped at Diomed as she tried to get to her feet but her extended stomach made it difficult.

“Here,” Leonidas reached out his hand and gripped her arm, helping her.

Krista took offence as she yanked her arm out of his grasp and stood on her own. Krista sent Leonidas a scathing look, she did not need to be helped or protected.

Shoving the damp cloth into a passer-by’s chest, ordering them to comfort the man beside her, Krista turned and walked away.

“With Frieda and . . .” Krista couldn’t say his name as Diomed and Leonidas followed, “I need you here,” is all Krista could repeat, “We’re more vulnerable now than ever before. I need you guarding the perimeter against further attack.”

Heading away from the lines of the wounded they had brought back to camp, Krista pointed to where she needed Diomed and Leonidas posting the little men they had left.

“How far can that contraption reach?” Krista asked Diomed as she looked towards the machine of war, Diomed had left to steal from Gaius.

It had helped to fight off Argus and his men as they fired flaming boulders and rocks into the battle.

“Krista,” Diomed spoke but his tone of voice told Krista he was not about to talk about trajectory or war machinery so she cut him off.

“They’ll most likely attack from the east, so put more men-”

“-Krista!” Leonidas stepped forward and shouted at her, gaining her attention.

Krista turned and faced the Gaul slowly.

“With every second we stand here, Argus and Rheia are getting further away. Soon we won’t be able to track them.” Leonidas searched her eyes and Krista knew he was trying to appeal to her sympathetic side.

“I need to protect the people that are still here,” Krista spoke through gritted teeth, no matter how much she hated it, Artorius would hate her more for abandoning them.

Artorius was one of those rare, good people that this earth needed more than anything.

Krista could not hope to live up to the same standard but she could at least act in his interest.

“Krista,” Leonidas sighed, he could see that she was in pain for what happened, “We can save them.”

Krista closed her eyes as two sides of herself battled for supremacy; the one side that wanted to obey Artorius and look after the people and the other side that wanted to defy him and rescue them.

“Krista!” A new voice assaulted her ears.

Blinking her eyes open, Krista turned and saw Helga racing towards her. In the distance, she could see Dianna resting against a table, looking distraught by what she had seen.

“Krista, thank the Gods you are safe,” Helga breathed with relief when she saw her charge, “Is there- is there something wrong with the baby!?” The older woman suddenly flew into a frenzy.

“Calm yourself,” Krista implored the woman, “Why would you think something was wrong with the child?” Krista frowned.

“Well, it’s just that . . .” Helga looked at Diomed and Leonidas for assistance before turning back to Krista, “It’s just that you’re holding your stomach.”

Krista looked at the woman in confusion before Helga’s eyes looked down at her abdomen.

Following the woman’s gaze, Krista unknowingly found her left hand cradling her stomach with love.

Krista took a gasp of breath as she saw the loveable action she was displaying.

Krista hadn’t even known she was doing it.

Looking back up at Leonidas, Krista saw the smile on his face, on all of their faces as if they knew something she did not.

It felt like something had shifted inside of Krista’s mind; she no longer saw this child as a burden but as a gift.

With Artorius gone from her grasp this baby was her last physical link to the man she loved.

“Go,” Krista nodded her head slowly as she looked up at Diomed, “Track them down.”

Diomed nodded his head, “I shall send for you once I find them!”

Krista watched the man who had burned her village now leaving to save her friends.

It made her feel as if second chances were possible.

“Come, let us get those wounds treated,” Leonidas smiled reassuringly at her.

Krista turned her head and gazed back across at Dianna, hoping to speak with her, but she was no longer there.

* * *

Artorius clicked his jaw as he raised himself back up onto his knees.

The sun had barely risen before he was doused in ice-cold water, stripped of all his armour and carried into Argus’s tent.

It was a nice enough place with soft furnishings and rugs but they weren’t expensive. It seemed Pompeia had put all her funding into paying for Argus’s expertise.

The tables had been moved aside to make room for Artorius and Quintus who was dragged in behind him.

Placed side by side on the floor with their own guards, Argus oversaw the torture they directed against them.

Artorius had been tortured before in Greece, he was prepared for the pain but it did not make it any easier as they hurled insults against Krista and tried to warp his mind.

When they realised Artorius was not about to crack beneath their whips, they turned to the weak body of Quintus.

“I can see that you are not a gladiator,” Argus chuckled as he motioned for Quintus to be brought forward.

Wrenched to his feet, the young boy was hurled before Argus as he picked up a glowing stick of metal that had been heating inside the fire.

“Artorius and Frieda are both gladiators, they believe they’re fighting for something,” Argus lifted the poker between him and Quintus, forcing the boy to look at the angry metal stick with a point at the end.

The heat from the metal poker was causing sweat to break out on his skin.

“They’ll die for Krista if they have to,” Argus informed him, “But are you willing to die for a woman you barely know?”

“Do not listen to him!” Artorius shouted at Quintus before the solid punch of a soldier hit him in the jaw, “Stay strong, Quintus!”

“You’re not strong are you, Quintus,” Argus chuckled as he gazed into the boys eyes, “When the real battle comes, and it is coming, you’ll be one of the first to die. Krista will send you and the other slaves in first,”

“Quintus . . .” Artorius spoke his name, trying to make him realise what Argus was doing.

“Separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were,” Argus kept his eyes glued to Quintus as he saw the boy’s throat working against the heat.

“Just tell me where the camp is,” Argus moved the poker forward until they could hear the sweat on his skin begin to sizzle, “And I’ll make this stop.”

“Quintus . . .” Artorius struggled against his guard.

The boy swallowed uncomfortably, “The- The camp is-”

Artorius could not allow Quintus to say anymore.

Protecting Krista, Artorius swung his bound hands behind him and hit the soldier in the side of his helmet.

Forcing the soldier to the ground, Artorius stole the sword from his sheath and ran up behind Quintus.

Moving fast before the other soldiers or Argus could stop him Artorius ran the blade through the back of Quintus’s neck, preventing him from saying anything else.

Releasing the blade and holding up his hands as a band of soldiers converged on him, Artorius was quickly battled to the ground.

A boot against his injured thigh caused Artorius to crumple to the floor beside Quintus, the boys blood covering his skin.

“I am so sorry,” Artorius whispered to Quintus as he saw the look of betrayal and pain in the boy’s eyes as he slowly died, choking on his own blood.

Artorius didn’t have a choice; he had to protect the camp.

He didn’t have a choice.