| |
The portal threw Kane and Elizabeth into the cold night air—and straight at a wall.
This time he couldn’t put himself between her and danger. They both slammed into the wall, and tumbled to damp grass.
“Beth—” Kane rolled over, flinching at the movement. Elizabeth was on his right, visible against the lighter stone, and hunched over like she was in pain. “Talk to me, Beth.”
“Ouch,” she whispered. One hand pressed against her left temple. “It doesn’t get any easier.”
His shoulder agreed; it ached like the devil. Hell, his entire right side was stiff, and useless. That hardly surprised him. What did surprise was the absence of nausea he usually experienced when he traveled with an injury.
He pushed up to his knees. “Give me your hand, love.”
She started to straighten, and halted with low moan. “I think my head hit harder than I first thought.”
Kane shot to his feet, ignoring his own pain. He knelt beside her, used his stronger left arm to help her sit. When she lifted her head, her waist length blonde hair slid away from her face—and revealed blood. Too much blood.
“Stay still, now.” He settled her against his chest, carefully tilted her chin, and used the moonlight to illuminate her face. Blood streaked her left cheek, from a gash just below her hairline. “Hell.” His right hand fumbled for the handkerchief in his pocket. Even now, after more than two months of physiotherapy, he had little strength, and less control. Finally, he grasped it, transferred it to his left hand. “You’ve got a right nasty gash, love. I am sorry—this is going to sting.”
He touched the wound and she recoiled. “God—”
“I’m sorry. Please—I need you to keep still.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes when he dabbed at the blood. “God, that hurts—ow—” Her voice spiraled up as she jerked away. “No more—it feels like you’re drilling into my head.” She touched her forehead. “Damn.”
“We need to get you out of this cold.” Kane looked around. Aside from the wall stretching above them, the moonlight revealed nothing but hills, field and trees. “Arm around my shoulders, now.”
“No—your shoulder—”
“Is strong enough.” The lie came out smoothly. Maybe because he had been telling it to himself since he was injured.
“I can walk. Just help me stand.” She laid her hand on his right arm, and froze. “Oh.” Her fingers dug in as she stared out at the landscape.
Kane ignored the twinge. “You know where we are.”
She swallowed, turned her head. “I’ve never been here, but I’ve seen hundreds of photos. That hill, the curve of the wall, they are distinctive. I want to be wrong,” she whispered. “But I think we’re on Hadrian’s Wall.” Her fingers brushed the pale stone. “The wrong side of Hadrian’s Wall.”
~ ~ ~
Elizabeth stared at the impossible. A complete stone wall, standing at least twelve feet high. If it was daylight, she knew she’d see the ditch they huddled in. They landed on the north side, facing Scotland, at the back side defense of an important fort. Housesteads. They were outside Housesteads.
No—Vercovicium. That was the latest name the historians she read were tossing around.
They had to get out of sight before—
“Ho!” The deep, masculine shout froze her.
Kane took her down to the ground. The movement had her gasping. “Stay still.” He whispered against her ear, his body covering her. If something nasty came their way, he would get hit first.
She understood his move, even if it left her dizzy and sweating. With their dark clothes, they blended into the shadows of the ditch. She swallowed the nausea burning her throat.
Silence spread around them, broken only by the wind sweeping over the grass. Elizabeth let out her breath. Kane’s low, accented voice brushed her ear. “I am going to help you stand, and we are getting out of here.”
“Kane.” He stopped. “There’s nowhere to go.”
The string of inventive curses, some in other languages, made her smile. “You’re certain?”
“If we’re where I think we are.” She swallowed again, her head pounding in earnest now. “There is a civilian settlement below the fort, but even if we could get there, we’ll stand out like goats at a party.” His chuckle rumbled through her, reminding her that he lay sprawled on top of her. His clean, woodsy scent surrounded her, calmed her. “And everyone will be speaking Latin. I don’t know about you—”
“I know enough Latin to be dangerous.” He winked at her. “And the transport has a translation chip.”
She remembered Mac mentioning it—that the portal emitted a field, and he didn’t question how. “That won’t make us look like we belong in Roman Britain. Can we just—jump out of here?” Kane looked at her. “I’m not going to like what you say next, am I?”
“Based on what you can see, what is your estimate of the date?”
“I would guess the late 2nd century. Why?”
“It would explain this.” He was silent for a long minute; then he showed her the transport. Her heart skipped. The screen was blank. “We shouldn’t be here, Beth. The portal isn’t supposed to be able to take us back this far. I am far from certain we can leave at all.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes—and clutched the grass when the world dipped sideways.
“Beth—”
“Okay—just dizzy.” It hurt to think, but she didn’t want to worry him. All she needed was some time with a nice soft bed, and she’d be fine. “Can you... as much as I enjoy having you on top of me, I’m having issues with breathing.”
“Bloody hell.” His weight disappeared, and she felt him next to her, his hand warm on her cheek. “Open your eyes for me, Beth. Come on, sweetheart.”
The panic in his quiet voice startled her. She pried her lids apart, surprised by the effort it took. “Kane...”
“Stay with me, love. Company is coming, and I need you to focus for me. Can you do that?”
“Company?” She heard it then, beyond the whisper of the wind. The distinct sound of hobnailed shoes, the slap of leather. The Roman reenactment she saw in London flashed into her mind, and when she looked past Kane, she saw it come to vivid, torchlit life.
They were magnificent—and they scared the hell out of her.
Kane unbuckled the transport, put it on her wrist. “Keep it hidden for me.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
He hesitated, and she knew she caught him out.
“I will do what I need to get you medical help. Did they have that here?”
Elizabeth nodded, and wished she hadn’t. “Some of the best in this time. Kane.” She touched his hand. “I may not make it through the conversation. I—” A gasp cut her off as pain tore through her head, sharp and vicious. “God—”
“Beth—”
“Sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t have time to say any more.
The soldiers surrounded them, trapped them against the wall. These weren’t the local auxiliary; they were the real thing. Battle tested, scarred, muscle-heavy Roman soldiers, right out of Caesar’s empire.
Kane stood, and raised both hands. Slowly. “We are unarmed.”
“You have a knife.” A bulky soldier stepped forward, his sword already halfway out. “Gaius was killed with a knife.” Before Kane could react the soldier shoved him against the wall. “You did it. You killed my friend.”
“No.” Elizabeth struggled to her feet. “We just arrived—”
“Shut her up.”
Another soldier grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth.
Kane kept still, hands spread. “I am sorry about your friend, but I had nothing to do with—”
The soldier punched him in the stomach, and Kane doubled over, dropping to his knees. Elizabeth screamed against the hand over her mouth.
The bulky soldier yanked Kane upright, slammed him into the wall again—and laid a dagger against his throat. “Now, you’re going to tell me the truth, even if I have to cut on you a while to get it.”
“Villius.” The soldier holding Elizabeth spoke, doubt edging his voice. “Maybe we should take them to the—”
“Shut up, Demetrius.” Villius pressed the dagger into Kane’s throat. A line of blood slid down his skin. He flinched, but said nothing, staring straight ahead. “I’m interrogating them myself. I’ll get the truth out of him, even if I have to tie him to the whipping post and beat it out of—”
“Why are you away from your post, Villius?” A tall soldier approached them from the direction of the gate.
“This is none of your business, Quintus.”
The soldier stepped into the circle of torchlight, dark eyes flashing. “I am senior centurion now, and this is my watch. That makes it my business.” His rank over their captors had her hoping, praying they had found an ally. Villius lifted his chin, tried to look taller. Quintus had at least five inches on him. “Take your dagger away from the man’s throat and answer my question.”
Villius lowered the dagger, as ordered, though he didn’t look happy about it. “I found them trying to escape—”
“What? Our oppressive rule?”
His nostrils flared. “He’s the killer, and I’m taking credit for it this time.”
Quintus crossed his arms. “What proof do you have?”
Kane stumbled when Villius yanked him forward. “He’s armed with a knife, and he’s sneaking away in the middle of the night.”
“Put your dagger away before you hurt someone.” When Villius pressed it against Kane’s throat again, Elizabeth fought to free herself. Quintus grabbed his wrist. “The captain will have your head if you kill him without evidence.”
“Get your filthy plebeian hand off me.”
Quintus raised his eyebrows, but his voice was steady. “As soon as you remove your dagger from his throat.”
Villius snarled, but he lowered his dagger and slid it back into the scabbard on his belt. “Satisfied?”
“Not even close. I am taking them to the praetorium—”
“He’s not the official commander—he can’t overrule—”
“He is still your commander, permanent or not.” This time the anger in Quintus’ eyes edged his voice. “You’d do best to remember that.”
He stepped forward and took Kane’s arm, leaning down to pick up their backpacks. He paused next to Demetrius. “If you would bring her along for me, I would appreciate it.”
“Yes, captain.” Demetrius freed her mouth, held her up when she stumbled. “Forgive me, miss. I was following orders.”
She didn’t say anything—just forced her legs to move, and kept Kane in her sights. He held his right arm tight against his side, which told her he was in pain.
They were marched to a huge, torchlit gate, and ushered inside. Quintus led the way past what she recognized as the long barracks buildings, slowing his pace when Kane stumbled.
Villius sprinted past her and skidded in front of Quintus, his face red. “He’s my prisoner! I won’t be cheated out of the credit this time for the capture—”
“They will be heard by the commander. He will be the judge of guilt or innocence, Villius, not you.”
“I’m not handing him over to a man who can’t even fight as a soldier any—” He cut himself off when Quintus caught the front of his tunic and hauled him forward like he didn’t weigh more than she did.
“You will show respect, or I will find the nastiest, most lowly duty to assign you. Permanently.” Quintus applied pressure until the shorter man stood on tiptoe. “Am I understood?”
“Thank you for defending me, Quintus, though I don’t need it.” The owner of the deep voice stepped out of an arched doorway, leaning heavily on a crutch. He wore a toga that showed off the muscular arms of a soldier. Pain lined his scarred face, but none of it showed in the clear, jade green eyes that studied the group in front of him. “Did I miss the invitation?”
“Sir.” Villius tore himself out of Quintus’ grip and pointed at Kane. “He was caught outside the wall, carrying a long knife like the one that killed Gaius—”
“And you were about to do what—deliver your own justice?” The edge in his voice had the soldier stepping back.
“I thought to interrogate him, bring the evidence to you—”
“An interrogation he would not survive. Tell me I am lying, Villius.”
Villius didn’t answer, but his jaw was clenched so tightly his muscles stood out in sharp relief.
After studying him a minute longer, the commander turned to Quintus. “Tell me what is really going on.”
Elizabeth heard Villius curse under his breath. Ugly, venomous curses. This new commander had made an enemy. Because of them.
She focused through the pain that bounced around her head every time she moved, and used the distraction Quintus gave her to slide the transport off her wrist and into her pocket. When Quintus finished she raised her hand. The commander nodded at her, and she took it as permission.
“We were attacked—by thieves, and had just managed to escape them when your guards found us.” She closed her eyes for a second, as the pain threatened to overwhelm her. “The man your soldier is accusing is my husband.” She didn’t look at Kane when she said it, and just hoped he would understand the necessity. “His name is Kane, and we are married.”
“And you are?”
“Elizabeth,” she whispered, and felt her knees give out.
Strong hands caught her, lifted her like she weighed nothing. She blinked her eyes clear, and met Quintus’ concerned gaze.
“I want you to relax. Please, Kane—she is safe, and you need to keep your distance. Take charge of your packs. I will carry her wherever we are going.”
The commander’s voice broke into their conversation. “Were you leaving already, Villius?”
“I have to get back to my night duty. Sir.” He spit out the last word.
“Then I’ll leave you with this to think about.” The commander limped over to him, and straightened, adding several inches to his height, so he towered over Villius. “Touch anyone who seeks shelter in my fort again, and it will be you I haul to trial. Are we clear?”
“Clear. Sir.”
“It is commander to you, Villius, until I grant you leave to say otherwise. Now get the hell out of my sight, before I change my mind and have you flogged for insubordination.”
Villius glared, but he obeyed, the other soldiers falling in behind him.
The commander watched them until they were out of sight. “I am afraid I’ll have to do more than flog that fool before this is over.”
“Captain—”
“I am no longer your captain, Quintus.” He turned to Elizabeth, sketched a bow. “Lucius Marius, at your service. I am the former senior centurion, and now temporary commander of Vercovicium, which will explain the confusion and the spite. Please accept my deepest apology for your violent welcome.” He joined them, graceful despite the crutch, and held out his hand to Kane. “Please, call me Marius. You’ve already met Quintus, who is the closest to a right hand man I will allow myself. I am afraid I can’t let you leave, quite yet. But I do know where you can spend the remainder of the night in some comfort, and your wife can have her injury tended.”
Quintus smiled. “Appia?”
With a sigh, Marius nodded. “She will take my head off for showing up at her door in the middle of the night, but I can make it up to her.” He flashed a smile. It transformed his narrow face, and lit the jade green eyes. “I am not the best listener when she talks about—female things, so she will enjoy the company of another woman.” The humor in his eyes faded. “Your husband will have to spend the night under guard. I am sorry for the need, but with Villius already accusing him, I dare not take any chances. Quintus will stand as guard, keep both of you from harm.”
“Thank you for that,” Kane said. “Your other soldier spoke of murder. What happened?”
Marius closed his eyes briefly, and grief tightened his face. “There has been murder, and more than one, inside these walls. By my own orders, any strangers are to be held and interrogated.”
He touched Kane’s left arm, and they moved forward. Quintus followed them, his voice gentle as he spoke to Elizabeth. “We are headed to the vicus. There is a woman there who can help you, and look at your husband’s shoulder. It was a recent injury?”
“Yes,” she whispered, not surprised that he could tell. As a centurion, in charge of as many as a hundred men, he would always watch for signs of injury.
“Relax for me. It’s not far.”
“Okay.” At this point, it took all her focus to stay conscious. Pain shot through her head with every step, and though Quintus moved at a steady pace, each step jolted through her.
She laid her head on his shoulder and tried not to throw up.