wooden plank that projected slightly from the wall of the outbuilding and hauled himself onto the roof with a grunt. Salonius took the opportunity to study the captain’s side as he did so and was surprised to see no blood. Perhaps he was worrying too much about the wound. Bracing himself further, he lifted the body to the roof level and felt the weight lift as Varro grasped it and heaved it onto the roof. A casual whistle caught his attention and he ducked back into the shadows next to the outbuilding, his eyes darting to and fro searching for the source of the noise.
A figure, whistling happily and weaving a drunken path, wandered into the alley from the front of the inn. Salonius held his breath and watched in morbid fascination as the man entered the shadows near the alley entrance and fumbled with his trousers before urinating, mostly on the wall of the next house, but partially on his own feet.
“Bollocks” he muttered as he shook his foot, tying his trousers tight once more. Still shaking the piss off his foot, he left the alley without looking back and started to walk across the green. A moment later and he was gone from sight, the only sign of his presence a distant happy whistle.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Salonius stepped back away from the wall and looked up to see Varro convulsed in a fit of silent hysterics, rocking back and forth. Grinning, the young soldier grasped the plank and pulled himself up to join his captain.
Varro wiped his eyes, burst into muffled laughter again and the stopped with a deep breath. “Precious. Absolutely precious.” Clapping his hand on Salonius’ back, he reached across from the roof and grasped the windowsill. He hauled himself up, still facing Salonius, and braced himself in the frame.
“Alright. Pass him up.”
Salonius stretched with a grunt, thrusting the unconscious body towards the window. Varro grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him up, swearing under his breath.
“Heavy bastard, this one.”
As the body came through the window and Varro was suddenly relieved of the heavy weight, he fell backwards into the room, collapsing to the floor on his back to find himself staring up into eyes shining with curiosity.
He started suddenly and, as his eyes adjusted to the room’s darkened interior, found himself staring into the smiling face of Catilina.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. Behind him there was a scraping noise as Salonius pulled himself through the window and dropped down next to the body where he crouched, staring in surprise at the lady sitting on the edge of the bed.
Catilina looked down at the captain.
“You can’t possibly think I was going to let you trot off on your own. Even with your ever-present guardian there.”
Varro sat up, shaking his head.
“Your father’s going to be furious with you. He’ll never let you leave Vengen again. Shit, he’ll have me pulled apart by horses when he knows you’re with me!”
Catilina sighed and her eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Let me handle father. You know I can. Besides which, he’s so busy with everything going on at Crow Hill, he’s probably not even noticed I’ve left yet.” She looked at Varro’s expression and put her finger on his lips as he opened his mouth, squeezing them gently shut again.
“Just don’t bother trying to dissuade me. You know it won’t work, so why waste both our time. If your cousin is alive, we’re going to see him. Besides,” she smiled at him, “if this is some military conspiracy, don’t you think I’m safer here than among thousands of potential enemies at the fort?”
Varro stared at her in a mixture of panic and admiration. He was used to dealing with conflicting emotions when it came to Catilina. He also knew that she was right. Once she’d made up her mind, nothing would change it. Not Varro; not her father; probably not even the Gods themselves. Besides, what would he do, send her back on her own? Safer to keep her with him until he returned from Saravis Fork. Safer. Safer away. “Cristus’ guard!”
“What?” Catilina stared at him.
“Your father.” Varro said, slapping his forehead.
“What are you talking about, Varro?”
“If the prefect’s guard are following me and killing farmers, then there’s a good chance the prefect himself is involved. And if that’s the case and your father’s investigating this, every day he stays in Crow Hill, surrounded by Cristus’ men, he’s in danger.”
Catilina narrowed her eyes.
“The men following you are Cristus’?”
“One certainly was. I know his face well.” He crouched down and rolled the unconscious body over so she could see his face. “This man had lost money to me in dice games. He’s definitely one of them.”
“And the others?” Catilina asked, staring into the peaceful face of the unconscious man.
Salonius stepped into the centre of the room.
“Excuse me, my lady, but you knew about them. And what do you mean ‘others’?”
Catilina sat back and stretched.
“I saw them leave the fort; four of them all cloaked up and secretive. I’ve been a mile or so behind them all the way. They’re not particularly observant.”
“Shit!”
Varro turned to Salonius.
“There’s two more somewhere. They could already be at the way station up the valley.”
The young man nodded and pointed at the body near the window.
“I suspect our friend will know where they are.”
Varro pushed his shoulders back and rubbed his side.
“Well he’s not waking up in a hurry. Get him tethered and gagged. Make sure he’s absolutely secured and push him under the bed. I doubt he’ll wake til the morning anyway, but I don’t want to lose him.”
He turned to Catilina.
“I think we need to talk. Can I buy you a drink?”
She flashed him a devastating smile.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve said that, my little rabbit.”
Varro smiled for a moment and then noticed Salonius grinning in the background.
“And you can stop smirking and get to work on him. When he’s secure, come downstairs and join us. I’ll get you a drink in.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
Varro glared at Salonius and then turned to escort the lady in her travelling clothes down the stairs to the bar.
Chapter Seven
Adana awoke feeling unusually sore and disoriented. What had he been drinking last night? He tried to reach up to touch his sore head and realised something was dreadfully wrong with the world. His surroundings slowly swam into focus and it took a moment to realise he was upside down and swinging gently back and forth. He squinted at the figures in front of him. Ah, yes…
Varro grasped the stick he’d been idly tapping his leg with and held it out to stop the man swinging.
“I’m afraid you might be in a little trouble here, my friend.”
Next to him, Salonius smiled nastily.
“Care to tell us a little about yourself?” Varro asked in a friendly, sing-sing voice as though speaking to a difficult child.
“Who are you people?” the dangling man asked innocently.
Varro smiled happily and swung the stout, young, green stick he’d been holding at the man’s head. The impact made him yelp and left a long red line across his cheek and temple.
