sobbing.
‘Come on,’ he said, looking over her shoulder, ‘A few more yards and we will be safe.’
Suddenly a voice called out from the squad.
‘There they are, further down the bank.’
‘Shit,’ said Dragus and started to run down the bank, half dragging Rubria with him. As fast as they went, the squad was three times as fast, hampered only by the weight of their armour. They turned the bend and Dragus was relieved to see the boat was still there. The boy’s eyes widened with fear when he saw the pursuing soldiers, and he dropped the rope before skulking away into the shadows.
Rubria stumbled and fell forward, hitting her head on the floor. Dragus stopped and scooped her up in his arms, sprinting as fast as he could before the boat drifted away.
‘
Dragus looked back up the bank. He could just make out the red fabric that wrapped the statue fifty metres away where she had dropped it.
‘
With no time to think, Dragus climbed back out onto the bank. He pushed the boat out into the slower flow of the river bend and ran back towards the approaching soldiers. Even though he was an experienced veteran of many battles, Dragus knew he could not better ten armed legionaries. It was all down to speed. He reached the wrapped Palladium, and picked it up before sprinting back downstream. The boat was moving faster now, and, as Dragus drew close, he threw the Palladium across the water to land in the craft with a satisfying thud. He stooped to grab the rope trailing across the bank but lost his footing and sprawled forward into the dirt. He jumped up, momentarily stunned and looked at the soldiers, only metres away. The boat was now out of reach and picking up speed. There was nothing else he could do, so, without wasting any more time he dived headlong into the river and swam strongly towards the boat.
The squad stopped in frustration, but, just as Dragus heaved himself over the edge of the boat, the Decurion in charge of the pursuing squad drew his Pugio from his belt and sent it spinning across the water.
Dragus caught his breath and grabbed an oar to help steer the boat, but, as he placed the oar into the water, he stopped suddenly, a look of shock and pain on his face.
‘Dragus, what’s the matter?’ asked Rubria, but then screamed in horror as the Centurion fell forward, the hilt of the knife sticking out of his back.
As the squad watched, the boat picked up speed and span out of control down the swollen river, disappearing into the darkness, faster than a man could run.
Rubria tried to help the wounded Centurion but the random movement of the boat meant she struggled to maintain her balance. She crawled to his side as he struggled to get to his knees.
‘Oh, Dragus, keep still,’ she cried and placed her arms around him.
‘Get me one of the oars,’ he gasped, pointing down the boat.
‘You can’t row,’ she said, ‘You are hurt.’
‘No need to row,’ he said, ‘Just pass me one.’
Rubria did as she was asked and dragged it to where Dragus was crouched. With her help he fed it over the stern, and, when most of it was in the water, he pointed to the rope now lying near the seat.
‘Get the rope,’ he said, ‘We need to tie it down.
Together they tied the oar in place, and, within a few moments, the boat straightened out, aided by the occasional swipe of the makeshift rudder. As soon as they had left the danger area, Rubria turned her attention to Dragus, who was obviously in excruciating pain.
‘Oh Dragus,’ she said, ‘Are you okay?’
‘We have to get this blade out of me,’ he said,’ I can’t move through the pain.’
‘But if we do, you could bleed to death,’ she said, ‘We need a Medicus.’
‘I have had such wounds before,’ he said, ‘And seen far worse. I don’t believe it has pierced any major organs but we can’t wait. We have to get it out. Make some bandage and do as I say.’
Rubria tore strips of material from her tunic and placed them on the seat.
‘Make them into pads,’ he said, ‘And listen very carefully. There is a danger I may lose consciousness so you have to know what to do. When you remove the knife, there will be blood, lots of blood. It is important that you stem the flow. As soon as the knife is withdrawn, place the first pad over the wound and press hard. The pressure should stop the flow. If it doesn’t, place a second pad on top but do not remove the first. Do you understand?’
‘What if that doesn’t work?’ asked Rubria
‘Then place more on top and press hard until the bleeding stops.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’ she asked.
‘Then I will die!’ he said simply. ‘If that happens, tip my body over the side into the river. I will not be able to help you further but at least you may be safer. The Praetorian are looking for two people not a single woman. You must get to shore and lose yourself in the suburbs.’
‘You won’t die, Dragus,’ she said, ‘I won’t let you.’
He smiled weakly.
‘Now, we must do it,’ he said, ‘I can’t stand this pain much longer.’
She nodded grimly and manoeuvred to a position where she could take a grip of the knife’s hilt.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Do it!’ he said, and screamed out in pain as she slid the razor sharp knife from its bloody, sheath.
For what seemed like several minutes Rubria fought to stem the flow of blood with her makeshift bandages. Dragus passed out and by the time she had stopped the bleeding, she wasn’t sure if he was unconscious or dead. When she finally realised he was still breathing, albeit faintly, she made him as comfortable as possible with his head in her lap and steered the boat downstream into the unknown. It had been a long night.
Dragus opened his eyes slowly, struggling to remember where he was. He felt someone wipe his brow and he turned his head to see who was holding the sponge. The haze cleared and he saw the piercing eyes of Rubria gazing down at him.
‘Hello,’ she smiled, ‘Welcome back.’
Dragus tried to respond but was only successful in emitting a throaty rasp and broke down into a throaty coughing fit.
‘Hang on,’ said Rubria, ‘I’ll get you a drink.’
She disappeared from view and Dragus felt himself being lifted into a seated position by unseen hands. The Priestess returned and offered a clay beaker of clean water to his lips. He tried to drink but the flow was controlled by Rubria.
‘Slowly,’ she said, allowing him a sip at a time.
‘Where am I?’ he asked eventually, his voice a lot clearer now he had slaked his thirst.
‘We are safe, Dragus,’ she said, ‘We are in the house of a friend. You have been ill with the fever but have fought it off. For a while we thought you would die.’
‘We?’ asked Dragus, ‘Who else is here?’
The face of an unknown woman appeared before him.
‘Hello,’ she said nervously, ‘My name is Rose.’
‘Rose helped me back in Nero’s palace,’ explained Rubria, ‘She saw us make our escape from the Praetorian and followed us downstream. Just as well, really for the boat snagged on a fallen tree and I did not know what to do.’
‘Where are we now?’ asked Dragus.
‘We are in the port of Ostia,’ said Rose, ‘I have a friend who lives here and we are in the cellar of her master.’
‘Does he know?’
‘No sir,’ answered Rose, ‘He is away on business.’
‘What happened to me?’ asked Dragus.
‘Don’t you remember?’ asked Rubria, ‘After you came around you were okay for a while but then the fever caught and we thought you would die.’
