After killing the men of local thug Kephalos, Metrius travels to the Sabine council for their aid. Captured by Latins, he is taken to Rome. Even as he is led away his wife is being watched from the night. Taken to see Romulus, Metrius sees the might of the growing Rome for the first time. Witness to a gladiatorial fight, he is shocked when it turns out to be Kephalos. Having refused to help Romulus by providing information about his people, Romulus has the lover of his dead friend brought out into the arena with Kephalos.
With the monsters howling and jeering at her, she scrambled backward, skin bitten by the sharp stony soil as her hands gripped the ground. Her head collided with the knee of one of the men who had brought her in, making her shriek out in terror. Springing up she ran across the arena like a frightened antelope, terror in her eyes. Tripping, she crashed forward into the fence, a chorus of insane wails escaping her lips as hands gripped and evil eyes leered. With a push she was thrown backward to the ground once more.
Raising his hand, Romulus brought the hell to a silence. His demons watched and waited.
“Ah, now I have angered you.”
And it was true. Metrius could no longer hide the emotions that coursed through him. His body trembled, his fists were tense, and he pulled at the rope that bound his wrists. Nothing; no give, no escape.
“I understand you know this woman,” He waved his hand in the direction of Ashton’s love, “Or at least your best friend found her useful.”
Howls of lust and mocking broke out in the night at their leader’s word.
“Kephalos, she is Sabine, yes?”
The thug nodded, watching Romulus carefully to work out what was to come next.
“And she was your woman before this runt’s insolent friend had his way? Would you like to see him pay for killing your men?”
At the first words Kephalos snarled, anger flashing across his face, “That runt is already paying for it.”
Metrius snapped alert, even more so than he had been before. He had caught the words, not a threat but a statement. Maybe Kephalos thought that this was some sort of punishment but something told him that this was not what he meant. It was instinct, his gut warning telling him that something was amiss.
“What do you mean?”
Now Kephalos smiled, “I hope you said goodbye to your wife, Metrius.” Turning to Romulus he snapped to attention, like a loyal soldier willing to serve his commander no matter what the cost. He was Romulus’s slave now.
“I want you to kill her.“ The dark gaze from his thick brow would have rested on his new killer but Kephalos was already pacing across to where the Sabine woman shrank away. His sword slid from its scabbard, reflecting death into her eyes, and she began to cry. Wrapping her arms around her head, she hid away from the world that her mind could no longer bare.
“Don’t!” Snapped Metrius, more an order than begging, but Kephalos marched onward. Grabbing the girls hair, he pulled and caused her head to snap back. The tanned neck was exposed to audience and the demons of Roman howled and cackled. The terrified eyes of the rabbit looked up at Kephalos with terror and pleading. The sword was pulled back.
“Tell me the secrets of the Sabines, Metrius the killer.” There was never more cold a gaze than that of Romulus as he bared into Metrius’s sole.
Conflict twisted inside Metrius’ stomach. It was almost as if he was being torn in to; the love of his close friend who had been brutally killed only yesterday or betray his people. What he give them anyway? He knew of the layout and maybe a few faces that Romulus should look out for but that was it. Would it make much of a difference if he just let one secret slip. One taste of the information Romulus needed might be enough to quench the vampire’s thirst and then he would back away, spare Kephalos’s kill.
He would know.
With dark eyes he glared up at Romulus, the tall leader of the Romans watching him carefully. Even before he had spoken, the answer was known. Raising his hand, he kept his gaze fixed on Metrius as he dropped it.
Kephalos’s blade plunged forward, stabbing into the woman’s neck and sending a fountain of blood into the air. It sprayed across the traitor, only accentuating the insane bloodlust that radiated from him. For a second the woman’s eyes bulged, blood coughed from the lips, and then as the sword was withdrawn she slumped forward to the ground. A crimson pool seeped into the soil.
With a roar, Metrius’s elbow came up sharply, ramming into Potitus’s jaw to make it snap shut with a heavy crack. His head jerked back, surprise flashing across Romulus’s face. Hands tied there was no chance for Metrius to strike revenge but instead he had to flee. With a quick jerk he pulled the rope from the stunned Potitus, kicking another captor in the groin and causing them to double up in pain. With a heave he pulled himself up onto a horse’s back.
Struggling to right himself he dodged a blade, a strike that came from Romulus very sword, but the tip fell short and he roared at the horse. In fear, the beast bolted, eyes full of terror and snorting in alarm. People parted for fear of the beast trampling them and he was clear. Behind him calls of panic and anger rang out, weapons drawn and orders barked, but he was free and racing through the night, unstoppable as hooves thundered along the track that he just walked.
His muscles ached, his balance hard to keep, and it took everything to hold himself on. Bending over, he pinned himself against the horse’s mane, head resting against its neck as he jeered it onward. He would not stop the animal until he was clear of this dreaded place, clear of the people who now looked up in surprise and shouted out in the night. Some grabbed spears, warned by the calls that came from far behind, but he was far past before they even had a chance to make an attack.
And all the while the words that played in his mind were those of Kephalos, ‘I hope you said goodbye to your wife, Metrius.’
He had to reach home.
*
The scream that rang out made Alkaterina’s eyes flick open, body snapping upright with alarm as is if she had been jabbed in the ribs with tapered stick. For a moment it seemed like a dream, the thick fog of sleep refusing to believe that something was happening outside, and then the hellish call came once again.
Drapes flung to the side, a figure appeared at the doorway. She was Sisenna, the old woman who lived by herself in the next hut, and he eyes were wide with shock. She was a loving woman, bringing food for Alkaterina and Metrius when they could more than provide for themselves. She would tell tales of the Athenians and Spartans, legends and fables from the past. The three of them had sat around the fire, glowing embers floating up into the night, and they would listen and learn about the heroes who had brought the Sabines to these new lands. Above them, the gods would listen too as Sisenna told their tales with sparkling eyes and gnarled skin.
Now she stumbled, a blade torn through the centre of her torso, cutting through flesh and cloth. She fell forward to the floor, a lifeless body, and behind her killer tugged his blade free. Quickly scanning the room it did not take him long to spot Alkaterina and he gave a satisfied smile.
“You are Alkaterina?”
He was a tallish man, hair slightly greying with silver streaks and eyes starting to show the creases of age. The warmth of his face would have made him seem dashing and handsome, were it not for the murder he had just committed. His question came in such a nonchalant manner, as if the life of Sisenna meant nothing, that it made Alkaterina feel sick inside. Grabbing the knife she had left by the bed, she sprang to her feet and let the blade hover in front of her.
With almost cocky overconfidence the man snorted, shaking his head, “Alkaterina, I have a sword and you have a knife.” He lifted his weapon and showed it to her, almost insinuating that she had failed to notice the short blade. The golden-brown bronze of the weapon could just about be made out in the darkness of the room, diamond shaped blade pointed aside so that he stood exposed.
“Who are you?” She hissed, taking glances at the body of Sisenna on the floor. Blood pooled beneath the old woman, a sign of the harsh end she had suffered after living such a loving life.
“My name is Gallus Humilus,” he nodded politely, “and I have come to take you for Kephalos.”
Alkaterina spat on the floor, “You can tell Kephalos to go to Hades.”
He chuckled, “I don’t believe Kephalos would like that. Besides, you have nowhere else to go. Listen.”
Outside noises of slaying and a one sided battle rang out in the air but Alkaterina had already noticed. It made her heart thump, her hands tremble, and she wondered if Gallus had spotted the shake. Another scream signaled the end of a villager’s life and metal clashed on metal with some of the men trying to defend the woman and children. She heard a child crying, wailing for his mother, and dogs barked in defiance before being silenced. Gallus was not alone.
“So Kephalos had sent his lackies to do his work.” She snapped, trying to think of some way out. There was one window out of this hut but already Gallus had slowly walked forward, giving her less time to bolt for the night.
Scrunching up his face, Gallus shook his head, “Kephalos wanted a bit of help, I’m not one of his soldiers.” Edging to the side, he started to cut of Alkaterina’s escape route, “I come on behalf of Romulus.”
“Romulus?” The name bewildered her. She had heard of the leader of the Latin Romans, even knew of the raids that were on the increase. Every now and then there would be confrontations between Sabines and Romans but it wasn’t a surprise; you didn’t travel alone in such lands. This was different, this was a raid on a village.
Gallus moved quietly toward the window, each step eased carefully so as not to catch Alkaterina’s eye, “With a bit of encouragement from Kephalos.”
With a sudden jerk of life, Alkaterina darted toward the way out, dodging to the left as she sprung away from the window and heading for the doorway instead. Caught off guard, thinking her plan had been to make some insane lunge for the closer exit, Gallus just about managed to lunge and catch hold of her arm. The tight fingers locked on, knuckled white and she span and swung out with the knife blade. Its point barely missed him, making him lean back and let go, and then she was bolting away.
Past the drapes and through the doorway, out into the night beyond, Alkaterina froze. The village was ablaze, roaring red flames that danced on the faces of killers. With thick smoke rising, Romulus’s men were making quick work of the village. They carried torches aloft, lit more huts so that the dried dung caught and the flames licked higher.
In front, a man she knew was cornered against a wall, waving a sword before his two attackers closed in and plunged spears into his chest. He called out in agony, clutching at one of the shafts protruding from him, before the killers moved on. Another young woman was having her hands bound, her eye black and tears streaming down her face. Her cheeks were red and her cloths covered in soil. It was a scene of death and chaos and horror.
Gallus’s hands grabbed her from behind and this time she could not break free, “Let me go! You’re monsters!”
The hands did not release her, clamps gripping her so tightly that she knew she would bruise. She did not care. Instead she pulled and struggled, trying to strike out, and she kicked backward so that her heel connected with the Latin’s shin.
In reply, he let go with one hand and struck hard and fast across her cheek. There was nothing held back, no easy going for a woman, and the blow made her head spin. She staggered back, lights flashing in the sky around her, her head swirling and unable to steady itself. Another blow hit her in the stomach, causing her to drop the knife, and the air was thrown from her lungs.
“You’re coming with us now. This village is your past.” Gripping hold of her once more, Gallus tugged her through the mayhem, barely allowing her to keep up. She slipped and fell, landing hard on her knees, but she was yank onto her feet and thrown into the arms of someone else.
With rope twisting tightly around her wrists, she could only watch as all her loved ones were killed around her.
“The Sabines will go to war over this.” She murmured, whether to herself or to Gallus she did not know.
Gallus’s smiled, “Romulus counts on it.”
*
The threads of the rope ran furiously over the sharp rock, sawing back and fore. Heating they began to split, one by one, and with each quick glance over his shoulder Metrius was a little bit freer.
Stamping its hoof impatiently, the horse he had stolen stood obediently nonetheless, and he was glad that the animal had not tried to bolt back to Rome. He had raced into the darkness of the Latin lands, praying that he could outwit any of Romulus’ scouts who might be searching for him, but none had come. Did Romulus want him to spread the word of Rome’s power? Did he want the other tribes to fear the new might that claimed the land? Deciding the question did not need an answer he concentrated on freeing his hands once again.
Every bit of him ached but he had refused to stop. His thighs had wanted to give in and let him fall from the mount, so tired were they from his journey as Potitus’s prisoner. Yet he knew he had to reach home, had to get back to Alkaterina and make sure she was safe. Frustrated by the ropes that still held his wrists together, he had finally decided that the Romans had been outwitted and that he could take a few minutes to remove the bonds.
Animals rustled in the dark, hunting their prey, whilst a screech owl called out like some demon from the underworld. The thought of death sent a shiver down his spine and, finally freeing himself, he climbed up onto his horse again. In the sky the stars winked and looked down upon him, watching him break into a gallop again and drive the sweating mount harder along its path. He would reach home by the end of the night.
*
He felt drained, the horse now walking rather than drumming along as it had for so long, and each judder shook through him. Head dropping forward, his eyes slowly closed, with each shudder throwing him from sleep and keeping his gaze fixed on the sun as it rose before him. It’s warmth was beginning to fill the valley, cast light upon the river that he had followed all night, and the trees and foliage began to show their colours. The trickling of streams became bouncing waters and the soft sound of muffled leaves became shrubs and bushes that dotted the landscape. The nocturnal animals went to ground once again.
Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, battling his body’s demand to cease the fight, he shook his head and tried to focus on the horizon. It was only a mile or so now, not far from the ones he loved, and he could be satisfied that they were safe and take to his bed. He would rest with Alkaterina, sleep with the one he loved, and be close to the protection of his friends and neighbours.
But the plume of smoke that rose, thick and grey, told him the story would not end this way. His heart sank, daunting fear sinking through him, and he knew that Kephalos had already struck.
The last mile was a hellish ride, nightmares plaguing his mind. He could picture Alkaterina, killed by the animals he had seen back in Rome. The thugish brutes who fought for Romulus raping and pillaging the village he called home. They would slaughter his friends and family alike, like cattle whose necks were slit open by the farmer’s blade. He painted pictures that burned in his mind; roofs aflame and victims with their guts spilled. And all the while Kephalos would watch and laugh, mocking in his suffering at Romulus’s side.
They stung into him, making tears weep from his weary eyes, and he felt the felt the pit open in his stomach. He could not live without his love, his wife Alkaterina, and now Kephalos was taking her away from him. Just as his mentality was pushed to his limit, so was his body’s endurance with muscles that pleaded only for rest and an end to the ride. It felt as if he was being stabbed, so worn was his body, but again and again he urged the horse onward. Would he be of any use when he got there, probably not, but he had to know and he had to know now.
Carrying him down into the valley where his village sat, the track wound down between the slopes of the hilly countryside. Since he was young it had been his voyage home, loving faces waiting for him and warm meals with his parents and sister. He remembered traveling home with his father from fishing, a small trip they regularly took to the rivers nearby. There were plenty of waters that were rich with fish, and his father had taught him to spear them. In the evening they had roasted the golden scaled by the campfire, skewering them on sticks that held them above the flames. Stars shining above them, they had strolled the path that even now he rode down.
There was no more home. Instead, what lay before him was the blackened shell of his village. Smoke rose from charred remains, ashes caked the floor and floated down through the air as if it rained death. The ground was littered with bodies, mutilated by the men who had slain and murdered without remorse. A dog whimpered, dragging a broken leg behind it. There was nothing left.
Sliding off his horse, Metrius thumped to the group, twisting his ankle and sending him toppling to the floor. His arm striking the ground a sharp pain bolted through his elbow but he did not feel it. Instead he scrambled up once more, half running and half walking towards his home. Stumbling he cried out, calling out for Alkaterina in desperation.
With the monsters howling and jeering at her, she scrambled backward, skin bitten by the sharp stony soil as her hands gripped the ground. Her head collided with the knee of one of the men who had brought her in, making her shriek out in terror. Springing up she ran across the arena like a frightened antelope, terror in her eyes. Tripping, she crashed forward into the fence, a chorus of insane wails escaping her lips as hands gripped and evil eyes leered. With a push she was thrown backward to the ground once more. Raising his hand, Romulus brought the hell to a silence. His demons watched and waited.
“Ah, now I have angered you.”
And it was true. Metrius could no longer hide the emotions that coursed through him. His body trembled, his fists were tense, and he pulled at the rope that bound his wrists. Nothing; no give, no escape.
“I understand you know this woman,” He waved his hand in the direction of Ashton’s love, “Or at least your best friend found her useful.”
Howls of lust and mocking broke out in the night at their leader’s word.
“Kephalos, she is Sabine, yes?”
The thug nodded, watching Romulus carefully to work out what was to come next.
“And she was your woman before this runt’s insolent friend had his way? Would you like to see him pay for killing your men?”
At the first words Kephalos snarled, anger flashing across his face, “That runt is already paying for it.”
Metrius snapped alert, even more so than he had been before. He had caught the words, not a threat but a statement. Maybe Kephalos thought that this was some sort of punishment but something told him that this was not what he meant. It was instinct, his gut warning telling him that something was amiss.
“What do you mean?”
Now Kephalos smiled, “I hope you said goodbye to your wife, Metrius.” Turning to Romulus he snapped to attention, like a loyal soldier willing to serve his commander no matter what the cost. He was Romulus’s slave now.
“I want you to kill her.“ The dark gaze from his thick brow would have rested on his new killer but Kephalos was already pacing across to where the Sabine woman shrank away. His sword slid from its scabbard, reflecting death into her eyes, and she began to cry. Wrapping her arms around her head, she hid away from the world that her mind could no longer bare.
“Don’t!” Snapped Metrius, more an order than begging, but Kephalos marched onward. Grabbing the girls hair, he pulled and caused her head to snap back. The tanned neck was exposed to audience and the demons of Roman howled and cackled. The terrified eyes of the rabbit looked up at Kephalos with terror and pleading. The sword was pulled back.
“Tell me the secrets of the Sabines, Metrius the killer.” There was never more cold a gaze than that of Romulus as he bared into Metrius’s sole.
Conflict twisted inside Metrius’ stomach. It was almost as if he was being torn in to; the love of his close friend who had been brutally killed only yesterday or betray his people. What he give them anyway? He knew of the layout and maybe a few faces that Romulus should look out for but that was it. Would it make much of a difference if he just let one secret slip. One taste of the information Romulus needed might be enough to quench the vampire’s thirst and then he would back away, spare Kephalos’s kill.
He would know.
With dark eyes he glared up at Romulus, the tall leader of the Romans watching him carefully. Even before he had spoken, the answer was known. Raising his hand, he kept his gaze fixed on Metrius as he dropped it.
Kephalos’s blade plunged forward, stabbing into the woman’s neck and sending a fountain of blood into the air. It sprayed across the traitor, only accentuating the insane bloodlust that radiated from him. For a second the woman’s eyes bulged, blood coughed from the lips, and then as the sword was withdrawn she slumped forward to the ground. A crimson pool seeped into the soil.
With a roar, Metrius’s elbow came up sharply, ramming into Potitus’s jaw to make it snap shut with a heavy crack. His head jerked back, surprise flashing across Romulus’s face. Hands tied there was no chance for Metrius to strike revenge but instead he had to flee. With a quick jerk he pulled the rope from the stunned Potitus, kicking another captor in the groin and causing them to double up in pain. With a heave he pulled himself up onto a horse’s back.
Struggling to right himself he dodged a blade, a strike that came from Romulus very sword, but the tip fell short and he roared at the horse. In fear, the beast bolted, eyes full of terror and snorting in alarm. People parted for fear of the beast trampling them and he was clear. Behind him calls of panic and anger rang out, weapons drawn and orders barked, but he was free and racing through the night, unstoppable as hooves thundered along the track that he just walked.
His muscles ached, his balance hard to keep, and it took everything to hold himself on. Bending over, he pinned himself against the horse’s mane, head resting against its neck as he jeered it onward. He would not stop the animal until he was clear of this dreaded place, clear of the people who now looked up in surprise and shouted out in the night. Some grabbed spears, warned by the calls that came from far behind, but he was far past before they even had a chance to make an attack.
And all the while the words that played in his mind were those of Kephalos, ‘I hope you said goodbye to your wife, Metrius.’
He had to reach home.
*
The scream that rang out made Alkaterina’s eyes flick open, body snapping upright with alarm as is if she had been jabbed in the ribs with tapered stick. For a moment it seemed like a dream, the thick fog of sleep refusing to believe that something was happening outside, and then the hellish call came once again.
Drapes flung to the side, a figure appeared at the doorway. She was Sisenna, the old woman who lived by herself in the next hut, and he eyes were wide with shock. She was a loving woman, bringing food for Alkaterina and Metrius when they could more than provide for themselves. She would tell tales of the Athenians and Spartans, legends and fables from the past. The three of them had sat around the fire, glowing embers floating up into the night, and they would listen and learn about the heroes who had brought the Sabines to these new lands. Above them, the gods would listen too as Sisenna told their tales with sparkling eyes and gnarled skin.
Now she stumbled, a blade torn through the centre of her torso, cutting through flesh and cloth. She fell forward to the floor, a lifeless body, and behind her killer tugged his blade free. Quickly scanning the room it did not take him long to spot Alkaterina and he gave a satisfied smile.
“You are Alkaterina?”
He was a tallish man, hair slightly greying with silver streaks and eyes starting to show the creases of age. The warmth of his face would have made him seem dashing and handsome, were it not for the murder he had just committed. His question came in such a nonchalant manner, as if the life of Sisenna meant nothing, that it made Alkaterina feel sick inside. Grabbing the knife she had left by the bed, she sprang to her feet and let the blade hover in front of her.
With almost cocky overconfidence the man snorted, shaking his head, “Alkaterina, I have a sword and you have a knife.” He lifted his weapon and showed it to her, almost insinuating that she had failed to notice the short blade. The golden-brown bronze of the weapon could just about be made out in the darkness of the room, diamond shaped blade pointed aside so that he stood exposed.
“Who are you?” She hissed, taking glances at the body of Sisenna on the floor. Blood pooled beneath the old woman, a sign of the harsh end she had suffered after living such a loving life.
“My name is Gallus Humilus,” he nodded politely, “and I have come to take you for Kephalos.”
Alkaterina spat on the floor, “You can tell Kephalos to go to Hades.”
He chuckled, “I don’t believe Kephalos would like that. Besides, you have nowhere else to go. Listen.”
Outside noises of slaying and a one sided battle rang out in the air but Alkaterina had already noticed. It made her heart thump, her hands tremble, and she wondered if Gallus had spotted the shake. Another scream signaled the end of a villager’s life and metal clashed on metal with some of the men trying to defend the woman and children. She heard a child crying, wailing for his mother, and dogs barked in defiance before being silenced. Gallus was not alone.
“So Kephalos had sent his lackies to do his work.” She snapped, trying to think of some way out. There was one window out of this hut but already Gallus had slowly walked forward, giving her less time to bolt for the night.
Scrunching up his face, Gallus shook his head, “Kephalos wanted a bit of help, I’m not one of his soldiers.” Edging to the side, he started to cut of Alkaterina’s escape route, “I come on behalf of Romulus.”
“Romulus?” The name bewildered her. She had heard of the leader of the Latin Romans, even knew of the raids that were on the increase. Every now and then there would be confrontations between Sabines and Romans but it wasn’t a surprise; you didn’t travel alone in such lands. This was different, this was a raid on a village.
Gallus moved quietly toward the window, each step eased carefully so as not to catch Alkaterina’s eye, “With a bit of encouragement from Kephalos.”
With a sudden jerk of life, Alkaterina darted toward the way out, dodging to the left as she sprung away from the window and heading for the doorway instead. Caught off guard, thinking her plan had been to make some insane lunge for the closer exit, Gallus just about managed to lunge and catch hold of her arm. The tight fingers locked on, knuckled white and she span and swung out with the knife blade. Its point barely missed him, making him lean back and let go, and then she was bolting away.
Past the drapes and through the doorway, out into the night beyond, Alkaterina froze. The village was ablaze, roaring red flames that danced on the faces of killers. With thick smoke rising, Romulus’s men were making quick work of the village. They carried torches aloft, lit more huts so that the dried dung caught and the flames licked higher.
In front, a man she knew was cornered against a wall, waving a sword before his two attackers closed in and plunged spears into his chest. He called out in agony, clutching at one of the shafts protruding from him, before the killers moved on. Another young woman was having her hands bound, her eye black and tears streaming down her face. Her cheeks were red and her cloths covered in soil. It was a scene of death and chaos and horror.
Gallus’s hands grabbed her from behind and this time she could not break free, “Let me go! You’re monsters!”
The hands did not release her, clamps gripping her so tightly that she knew she would bruise. She did not care. Instead she pulled and struggled, trying to strike out, and she kicked backward so that her heel connected with the Latin’s shin.
In reply, he let go with one hand and struck hard and fast across her cheek. There was nothing held back, no easy going for a woman, and the blow made her head spin. She staggered back, lights flashing in the sky around her, her head swirling and unable to steady itself. Another blow hit her in the stomach, causing her to drop the knife, and the air was thrown from her lungs.
“You’re coming with us now. This village is your past.” Gripping hold of her once more, Gallus tugged her through the mayhem, barely allowing her to keep up. She slipped and fell, landing hard on her knees, but she was yank onto her feet and thrown into the arms of someone else.
With rope twisting tightly around her wrists, she could only watch as all her loved ones were killed around her.
“The Sabines will go to war over this.” She murmured, whether to herself or to Gallus she did not know.
Gallus’s smiled, “Romulus counts on it.”
*
The threads of the rope ran furiously over the sharp rock, sawing back and fore. Heating they began to split, one by one, and with each quick glance over his shoulder Metrius was a little bit freer.
Stamping its hoof impatiently, the horse he had stolen stood obediently nonetheless, and he was glad that the animal had not tried to bolt back to Rome. He had raced into the darkness of the Latin lands, praying that he could outwit any of Romulus’ scouts who might be searching for him, but none had come. Did Romulus want him to spread the word of Rome’s power? Did he want the other tribes to fear the new might that claimed the land? Deciding the question did not need an answer he concentrated on freeing his hands once again.
Every bit of him ached but he had refused to stop. His thighs had wanted to give in and let him fall from the mount, so tired were they from his journey as Potitus’s prisoner. Yet he knew he had to reach home, had to get back to Alkaterina and make sure she was safe. Frustrated by the ropes that still held his wrists together, he had finally decided that the Romans had been outwitted and that he could take a few minutes to remove the bonds.
Animals rustled in the dark, hunting their prey, whilst a screech owl called out like some demon from the underworld. The thought of death sent a shiver down his spine and, finally freeing himself, he climbed up onto his horse again. In the sky the stars winked and looked down upon him, watching him break into a gallop again and drive the sweating mount harder along its path. He would reach home by the end of the night.
*
He felt drained, the horse now walking rather than drumming along as it had for so long, and each judder shook through him. Head dropping forward, his eyes slowly closed, with each shudder throwing him from sleep and keeping his gaze fixed on the sun as it rose before him. It’s warmth was beginning to fill the valley, cast light upon the river that he had followed all night, and the trees and foliage began to show their colours. The trickling of streams became bouncing waters and the soft sound of muffled leaves became shrubs and bushes that dotted the landscape. The nocturnal animals went to ground once again.
Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, battling his body’s demand to cease the fight, he shook his head and tried to focus on the horizon. It was only a mile or so now, not far from the ones he loved, and he could be satisfied that they were safe and take to his bed. He would rest with Alkaterina, sleep with the one he loved, and be close to the protection of his friends and neighbours.
But the plume of smoke that rose, thick and grey, told him the story would not end this way. His heart sank, daunting fear sinking through him, and he knew that Kephalos had already struck.
The last mile was a hellish ride, nightmares plaguing his mind. He could picture Alkaterina, killed by the animals he had seen back in Rome. The thugish brutes who fought for Romulus raping and pillaging the village he called home. They would slaughter his friends and family alike, like cattle whose necks were slit open by the farmer’s blade. He painted pictures that burned in his mind; roofs aflame and victims with their guts spilled. And all the while Kephalos would watch and laugh, mocking in his suffering at Romulus’s side.
They stung into him, making tears weep from his weary eyes, and he felt the felt the pit open in his stomach. He could not live without his love, his wife Alkaterina, and now Kephalos was taking her away from him. Just as his mentality was pushed to his limit, so was his body’s endurance with muscles that pleaded only for rest and an end to the ride. It felt as if he was being stabbed, so worn was his body, but again and again he urged the horse onward. Would he be of any use when he got there, probably not, but he had to know and he had to know now.
Carrying him down into the valley where his village sat, the track wound down between the slopes of the hilly countryside. Since he was young it had been his voyage home, loving faces waiting for him and warm meals with his parents and sister. He remembered traveling home with his father from fishing, a small trip they regularly took to the rivers nearby. There were plenty of waters that were rich with fish, and his father had taught him to spear them. In the evening they had roasted the golden scaled by the campfire, skewering them on sticks that held them above the flames. Stars shining above them, they had strolled the path that even now he rode down.
There was no more home. Instead, what lay before him was the blackened shell of his village. Smoke rose from charred remains, ashes caked the floor and floated down through the air as if it rained death. The ground was littered with bodies, mutilated by the men who had slain and murdered without remorse. A dog whimpered, dragging a broken leg behind it. There was nothing left.
Sliding off his horse, Metrius thumped to the group, twisting his ankle and sending him toppling to the floor. His arm striking the ground a sharp pain bolted through his elbow but he did not feel it. Instead he scrambled up once more, half running and half walking towards his home. Stumbling he cried out, calling out for Alkaterina in desperation.
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