The Silent War (Forgotten Heroes of Rome Book 5) by Autieri Jerry

Author:Autieri, Jerry [Autieri, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-09T00:00:00+00:00

15

F alco was the first to greet Varro, waving cheerfully as he rushed into view of the Aetolian camp with Curio following. But his smile and wave fell away when he saw the prince cradled in Varro’s arms. Others came to the ledge, dramatically framed against the slate-colored sky.

“Is he still breathing?” Curio asked as he jogged behind.

“How can I tell? I think he’s still alive.” Varro glanced down. The prince frowned in sleep like a baby having a nightmare. His smooth and boyish face was spotted with dried blood. His lips seemed to have dried out and took a bluish cast. Both eyes were circled with dark rings. The fall had been serious, but worse was the puddle of dark blood that bubbled up from his wound. It shimmered in the dull sunlight as Varro ran up the slope. Curio’s hands were at his back, forcing him ahead whenever his feet slipped on the muddy ground.

“Get a fire started,” Varro shouted. “And heat a blade.”

Falco, a giant shadow amid his soldiers, nodded then vanished with the others.

Once they mounted the ledge, Varro searched for a clear spot to settle the prince. Flocks of black crows swooped into the air, screeching against the sudden action. The white corpses of the dead littered the expanse. In the end, the area next to the four grave mounds of his crucified soldiers seemed the best. He set the prince carefully on the ground while Curio and the others closed in.

“I need fresh bandages.” Varro pulled away the sopping cloth stuffed back into the prince’s wound. Whatever clotting had developed overnight had been destroyed in the prince’s fall. “Where’s that heated blade?”

“I just got the fire started,” Falco said, now hovering over his shoulder. “He looks as good as dead, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, he can’t die!” Varro slammed a fresh cloth atop the blood-drenched one. “Because then we’ll all share his fate. He’s a royal hostage, and if he dies in our care we have failed Rome and ruined our peace with King Philip. So get that fucking blade heated!”

Falco sniffed, but vanished off Varro’s shoulder. He heard him cursing others in the background. In the meantime, Varro pressed on the wound but it seemed to express more blood than stop it.

The soldiers crowding them mumbled amongst themselves. Varro did not pay attention, but focused on Demetrius’s frowning face. Yet he did hear questions on how the prince had been stabbed. Most seemed to think it was the Aetolians, and he was glad to leave it at that. He could admit to the consul and tribunes what he did. But he could not allow his men to know he had caused this horror or else they might truly rebel.

It seemed half a day before Falco returned with a pugio that rolled smoke from the blade.

Varro snatched it away and Curio cleared the bandages then tore open the prince’s tunic.

“This will wake him up,” Varro said. “Wipe away the blood. Quickly.”

The wound was a neat puncture under his right collarbone.

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