Читать онлайн «Semper Fidelis»

Ruth Downie

Semper Fidelis

Hadrianus …. Britanniam petiit, in qua multa correxit …

Hadrian … made for Britain, where he set many things straight …

Historia Augusta, Life of Hadrian

Map

Chapter 1

Victor’s left eye felt as though it was about to burst like a squashed plum. He ran his tongue along the inside of his gum, tasting blood in gaps that had not been there before. He made a tentative exploration of a couple of loose teeth, seeing how far they would move. It was a mistake. He gasped and fell back against the trunk of the willow as pain welled up and flooded the lower half of his face.

This will pass, he urged himself, all the while feeling that someone was screwing a hot poker into his jaw. Count to ten. Breathe in … and … One. In … and … Two. Think of something else.

But all that came was the memory of Tadius struggling to rise from the floor, and the voices roaring at him, Get in there, or you’ll be next.

Tadius, lying very still.

Blood pooling in the dust.

As the pain ebbed he crept forward again, peering out between the willow fronds. The trumpets had sounded the hour for the midday meal and there was hardly anyone about. The girl was still alone on the sunny slab that overhung the water, her skirts hitched up and her bare feet dangling in the river. Beside her on the stone sat a wooden platter with bread and cheese and perhaps beer in the cup. She was busy looking at something in her hand. The willow hid her from the guards over on the fort gates. She had no idea that anyone was watching her.

The guards were standing in the shadow of the wall, leaning on their shields and gazing into the distance with the air of men expecting a quiet afternoon. Victor swallowed.

There was a time-it seemed years ago now-when he had dreamed that being in the Legion would be a good life.

The girl sighed and flung down whatever she was holding. She pushed a wisp of blond hair out of her eyes and turned her attention to the platter. The sunlight flashed on a blade. His fingers slid toward his own knife, but she was only cutting the cheese. He let out his breath. He did not want to hurt her, but he had to keep her quiet. If she screamed, the guards would come, and he might not be fast enough to get away with the food.

He would stroll up and try to chat with her. If he said he was hungry, she might even offer to share.

He ran a fingertip over his injured eye. She might not. If the eye was as ugly as it felt, she might scream at the sight of him.

The guards were still looking vacant and bored. The girl tore off a big chunk of bread and put it into her mouth.

Victor stepped forward. “It is a good day to eat beside the river. ”

The girl jerked round. Her eyes widened in alarm, but instead of screaming she was convulsed by a choking fit. He reached for the platter, ready to grab the food and run before she could call for help, then saw one hand flapping helplessly toward him as she spluttered and tried to draw breath and thought, What if she chokes to death? He stepped behind her, hesitated for a moment, then smacked his hand against the middle of her back.