Legionary: Land of the Sacred Fire (Legionary 3) by Doherty Gordon

Author:Doherty, Gordon [Doherty, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction
Publisher: www.gordondoherty.co.uk
Published: 2013-10-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Gallus crouched by Olivia and held her hand as she slept. She squeezed his fingers and then turned over with a sleepy, contented sigh, wrapping one arm around little Marcus. Gallus smiled at this, pulling the blanket up to cover their shoulders. For a blessed moment, his troubles were absent. Then a log snapped in the campfire and he jolted, swinging round to scour the darkness. A chill autumnal breeze searched under his robe and brought the cypress trees to life, but this clearing by the roadside in Northern Italy was deserted. The road itself was utterly empty too, Mediolanum but a distant glow to the west and the port city of Aquileia lost in the blackness off to the east. So they were alone, he thought. Regardless, his eyes fell upon the axe and sharpened pole resting against the wagon.

He stood, picked up the axe and strode around the wagon to make sure. The vehicle was heaped with barley and leeks as always. Working another man’s land and taking the crop surplus to market had been the extent of his troubles until just a few weeks ago – troubles he would gladly take in exchange for those he endured now.

Having circled the wagon, he reached for the skin of wine tucked under the driver’s berth, then took a long pull upon it followed swiftly by another. It was unwatered and as potent as he had hoped, warming him and drowning his fears. He had taken to drinking it like this in these last weeks, knowing his thoughts would otherwise drive him to madness.

‘Will they come for me tonight?’ he whispered, gazing up at the waning moon. ‘What they asked me to do – no man could do and live with himself afterwards. Would you not have chosen as I did?’

The moon stared back, cold and silent.

The Speculatores would be far more unforgiving. He slumped by the wagon and took another draw on the wine, gazing long and hard into the guttering campfire. He made to take another mouthful of wine, then realised the skin was empty. Just then, Olivia’s weak, sleepy moan stirred him.

He looked at her and little Marcus. As a farming family, they had little in the way of riches, but they had each other and needed little else. This affirmation seemed to render the darkness less of a threat. He felt these maudlin thoughts sting behind his eyes and realised the wine was playing with his emotions. And a long journey to Aquileia lay ahead tomorrow. He cast his eyes once more around the deserted countryside and shook his head with a stifled chuckle.

‘Sleep, man, there is no one coming for you tonight.’

He crept over to lie behind Olivia, wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled into her sleep-warmed neck. A contented smile spread across her delicate features at this, and the sight was enough to lull him closer and closer to sleep. Blessedly, he fell into a dreamless slumber.

But a curious sensation crept through the blackness of sleep.

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