Semper Fidelis

wafted across the courtyard and a scuffle broke out in a dark corner. There were a few halfhearted cries of protest, but nobody seemed interested in imposing order. There was a crash and cheering as something was knocked over and shattered. Somewhere deep in the stables, a girl screamed. Accius, busy listening to some earnest discourse from Marcus, paid no attention.

Having realized he was not about to be butchered, the tribune had evidently decided the safest course was to concede whatever the men wanted. And Marcus, who seemed to have forgotten that the Praetorians must have the place surrounded, was falling for it. Ruso glanced around, wondering what to do. When the Britons realized they were trapped, this shambles was going to turn very nasty indeed, and the place was packed with civilians who would make ideal hostages for men with nothing to lose.

Dexter was back on his feet now. “Did you let these men out?” Ruso demanded.

“Me?”

“Stay out of sight or they’ll kill you.”

“I’m not afraid of-”

“Or I will.” Ruso pushed his way forward. “Marcus! Get these men under control. Quickly.”

Marcus ignored him and carried on berating Accius. Ruso gripped his earlobe and twisted, digging in his thumbnail. Marcus let out a yell of pain.

“You started this!” Ruso shouted. “Get them under control or we’ll have a bloodbath!”

For a man who was ready to face the next world, Marcus suddenly looked very frightened. He turned to Accius. “Sir?”

Accius raised both hands in surrender. “They won’t listen to me!”

To their left, a couple of drunken recruits had clambered onto the mounting block and were attempting a dance. Somewhere in the darkness, the girl screamed again.

“One of us,” said Ruso grimly, “had better think of something.”

Marcus stood on tiptoe and shouted in the direction of the stable, “Lads! Oi! Leave the girl alone, lads!”

Someone shouted, “Wait your turn, mate!”

The dancers stumbled off the edge of the mounting block and crashed into the crowd.

Ruso shouted in Marcus’s ear, “Is the empress safe? And my wife?”

Marcus yelled back, “Upstairs. The lads were told not to touch them.”

Ruso glanced at the row of upstairs windows. Was that a blond head behind one of them? He could not tell. He reached out and seized Marcus with one hand and Accius with the other, dragging them round the fallen dancers toward the vacant mounting block.

“Tell them they must listen to the tribune,” he urged, pushing Marcus up the narrow steps.

“But, sir-”

“Do it!”

He did it. Either the men were eager for leadership or a powerful god was with him. Ruso neither knew nor cared which. The confusion died down for a moment while the crowd waited for the next part of the show. Pushing Marcus toward the stables with “Go and help that girl,” Ruso urged a reluctant Accius up the steps of the mounting block. “You’re good at making speeches. Tell them you understand why they’re angry. Tell them you respect their loyalty in not deserting. Tell them-oh, tell them any old bollocks. Then tell them you’re supporting their appeal to the empress.”

“But the emp-”

“Now, Accius! This is what all that training was for!”

Chapter 80

“Sa-bi-na!” roared the men down in the courtyard, stamping and banging anything within reach in time with the rhythm of the name.

“Sa-bi-na! Sa-bi-na!”

In the upstairs room, a grim-faced Clarus had joined the line of men guarding the corner. He was clutching a metal jug in one hand and what looked like a woman’s hairpin in the other. If it had not been so desperate, it would have been funny.

Behind them, some of the huddled women were weeping. Then Sabina cried, “Do not let them take me, Clarus! Kill me now, I beg you! I know what they did to those poor women in Londinium!”

“Madam, I cannot-”

“Then somebody give me a knife!”

“Madam!” Tilla abandoned the window. “They do not want to hurt you. The tribune has made his speech, and the men have listened. Now they want to present a delegation.”

Sabina’s squeak of “A delegation?” left Tilla wondering if she had chosen the wrong word.

“They want to ask for justice.”

“But the emperor is not here!”

Clarus said, “The empress cannot grant petitions.”

“Madam,” said Tilla, ignoring him, “these men are Britons. They do not know who can grant what.” In truth they probably did, but Sabina did not need to know that. “What they know is that you are the wife of a great leader. You have traveled all over the world with him, and between you, you have won many victories. They believe you are a noble warrior-queen like the ones they honor amongst their own people.”

There was a pause while Sabina and Clarus thought about that. The chant of “Sa-bi- na!” still rose in the yard, embellished with whoops and whistles.

The empress said, “Can their officers not get them under control?”

“They are loyal to the emperor, madam,” Tilla reminded her. “But they have been badly mistreated.”

“That has already been dealt with! What is the matter with these people? The man is dead: What more do they want? I shall tell Paulina about this when we get to Deva and her husband will have them all flogged.”

“Sa-bi-na!”

“We are not in Deva tonight. You do not need anyone’s husband. Not even your own. Tonight everyone here is depending on you.”

“Stay here, madam!” urged Clarus, glancing over his shoulder. “My men cannot defend you out there. Stay here and wait for rescue.”

“Sa-bi-na!” The chant was beginning to sound ragged. The men would not wait much longer. Some of them would be drunk, and Clarus was right: Any minute now, the troops outside would find a way into the building and there would be an end to this, but neither a quick nor a happy one.

Tilla said, “Madam, they are calling for you. If you listen to them you can save us.”

“Do not believe her, Madam!” It was Minna’s voice. “She’s one of them: You can’t trust her!”

“Very well.” A figure rose from the corner. “I will do it.”

Several voices began to object.

“Thank you, but I have made my decision.”

Clarus said, “Then I shall come with you, madam.”

A voice from the door said in British, “We was told not to let nobody-”

“Have some sense!” Tilla snapped. “How can Marcus present anything to her if you do not let her out?”

“Just you and her, then.”

None of the Romans liked that very much, but the Britons were the ones with the swords. Sabina’s hand was trembling as Tilla led her along the dark corridor and down the stairs toward the barbarians.

Down in the courtyard, the chant of “Sa-bi-na!” gave way to cheering and shouts of “Make way!” as the two women appeared and were hustled across to the mounting block. Tilla felt a hand on her arm and turned to see her husband mouthing something she could not catch. Marcus was standing next to him with the snake arm around-was that Virana?

Accius was helping the empress up the steps of the mounting block. There was a confusion of shouting and shushing as everyone told everyone else to shut up and listen. Finally a hush spread across the courtyard.

Sabina’s earrings glittered as she looked over the heads of the crowd and waited for someone to address her.