Chapter 9 #2
Adler, the son of one of the female slaves owned by Lucius’s family, had been his best friend for the first ten years of his life.
They were the same age and very much alike in interests, personality, and looks.
But Lucius had discovered just how powerless Adler was as a slave when he and his Germanic mother were sold after Lucius’s father grew tired of using her body, and he bought another slave to take her place—a younger woman whose physical charms excited him.
Devastated, Lucius had pleaded with his father for Adler’s return. The esteemed Roman had sneered and told him not to be ridiculous. It was foolish to love one’s slaves, they were merely possessions—living tools—to be used until they were no longer needed.
“But I love Adler like a brother. I will die without him,” Lucius had wailed.
His father had laughed in mockery.
“Why are you laughing?” Lucius demanded.
“Because that slave boy is your brother.”
“What?” Shock had robbed Lucius of more words.
His father had stared at him and laughed again.
Lucius had blocked the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “Then he belongs here with us. Why did you sell him?”
His father’s face had hardened, all his scathing mirth gone. “He is just a slave. He belongs with his new master. He was an accident that arose from my using his mother.”
“An accident?”
“Of course. Unwanted except for his monetary value to me.”
“He’s wanted by me! I have no other brother. Could you not have freed him for me?”
“You may have many other siblings out there in the world. I don’t know.
And I don’t care. I take no notice of my by-blows.
They are not Roman citizens; they do not count.
They are nothing. Being a Roman citizen is all that matters in this world.
Learn that lesson, Lucius!” With each statement, his father’s voice had risen until he shouted the last.
Thus, Lucius had learned that although closely related to him, Adler was not of equal value in his world.
The child Lucius had run away then, tears streaming from his eyes and a painful pressure constricting his chest. He had vowed to himself that he would find his brother. If not now, then in the future.
A few weeks later, Lucius had found Adler. His new owner had set an exorbitant price for his purchase. Lucius stole the money from his father. When Lucius brought Adler home, his father had discovered Lucius’s theft and beaten him.
“Remember, a slave is a tool,” he said. Afterwards, his father had not sold Adler again, perhaps fearing Lucius would continue to steal from him.
Over time, Lucius’s hatred for his father had turned to forgiveness because he allowed Adler to remain.
And Lucius had come to understand the ways of the Roman system, and had become a participant in it, keeping his best friend and brother enslaved.
Adler had seemed relieved and happy to return to the Gallus household, but was it just the lesser of two evils for him?
Adler never saw his mother again.
Lucius would never know what his brother felt about his enslavement. Now, he, Lucius, was the living tool and would probably never see his brother again.
Maonos tugged on his wrist. It was time to move from their hiding place.
* * *
They hurried down the roadway leading from the entrance, with light steps and hiding in shadows. Fear trickled up Lucius’s spine. With every step, he expected they would be heard and the alarm raised. They passed between multiple ramparts until finally they reached the level land below.
They were all breathing deeply as they hid in a drainage ditch running beside the trackway.
“Now we run,” Sorcha ordered. “Ready?”
Lucius and Maonos nodded.
“Now.”
They rose and raced across the open land. A pre-dawn mist hung over the low-lying ground. Lucius’s breath puffed out as a warm cloud. The damp, chill air seared his lungs.
By the time they reached the tree line, all of them were breathing in loud rasps. Still they didn’t stop, although the dense foliage of the woods slowed their progress.
At a stream, they fell on their knees to drink as the first rays of light filled the sky.
Once his thirst was quenched, Lucius looked around the clearing.
“Keep going or hide? This place not safe—too open, well-used.” He knew his use of their language wasn’t great, but he hoped it was good enough for them to understand.
And that his knowledge was enough to help him understand them.
“The others…Dun Cam…. Bledyos…hunting,” Sorcha said,
He didn’t understand the other half her words, but thought he got the gist of her meaning. “Men and dogs hunt us?” Lucius asked, as he scissored his fingers.
She nodded. “We follow… stream,” Sorcha advised, pointing to the water.
“Yes,” Lucius dipped his chin.
Still breathless, Maonos nodded.
To disguise their scent from the dogs, they splashed upstream throughout the morning. Around midday they heard the blare of distant hunting horns. Lucius halted to listen. Were they coming closer?
The sound came again. It seemed nearer.
Sorcha hurried them on. Lucius scanned the banks of the stream for somewhere, anywhere, they could hide.
The horn sounded again, this time much nearer. Lucius’s heart pounded. Blood pulsed in his temples. If they didn’t find somewhere to hide soon, they would be captured.
Now he could hear hounds.
Behind him there was an almighty splash. He turned to see Sorcha on her knees in the water. He grabbed her elbow and hauled her upright. Keeping hold of her, he urged her along.
They rounded a bend in the stream and found it became narrower and deeper—and so much harder to move through the water. Suddenly the horn was blaring very close.
Lucius’s heart lurched against his ribs. He swiveled his head, looking for a way to escape. He could hear the excited sounds of the hounds searching for prey. He tasted bile as his stomach contracted. Was there any way the dogs could pick up their scent although they had travelled in the water?
On the other side of the stream, the bank was hollowed out by the water rushing around the bend, eager to widen its course. He urged Sorcha towards the cleft. Maonos had ploughed on.
Once at the bank, he pushed Sorcha under the overhang and reached down into the water. His fingers scrabbled on the bottom. He lifted a smooth stone and hurled it at Maonos’s back. It hit the youth between the shoulder blades and plopped into the whooshing stream.
Maonos jerked to a stop and turned back. Lucius beckoned to him. Maonos reached him just in time for the two of them to duck under the hollowed earthen bank.
The water swirled cold and fast against his chin as they huddled in the moss-lined alcove.
Its earthy mustiness clogged Lucius’s nostrils.
He looked down at Sorcha huddled beside him, her eyes wide, breathing fast, desperately trying to hide in the too-small space.
The need to protect her surged within him.
He sought her hand under the water and entwined their fingers.
She didn’t resist—clear evidence of the extent of her fear.
Above them, on the bank, hooves pounded. Dogs padded and sniffed, searching for a scent. The hunters halted their horses, clearly waiting for the dogs to pick up a trail and lead them onwards.
“Spread out and beat the undergrowth like before,” Bledyos commanded. “Don’t leave a bush untouched. The dogs tracked them to this stream and haven’t picked up a new scent to show they’ve left it. We must be close to finding them.”
“Unless they went downstream,” came a gruff reply.
“Not likely. That would take them away from their destination,” Bledyos growled.
The sound of undergrowth being slashed floated across the water to them.
Sorcha’s eyes widened.
Surely one of the men would wade into the stream soon and spy them? Lucius indicated down with his forefinger before grasping his nose and sinking underwater. The coldness closed over his head, shriveling his scalp. Sorcha and Maonos followed his lead.
Underwater, he could barely make out the outline of his companions beside him. Tightening his grip on Sorcha’s hand, he eased her closer. There was no way of knowing the location of their pursuers, but at least he would feel it if she was pulled away from him.
Lucius held his breath until he feared his chest would burst and he could wait no longer. If Bledyos and his men were still close by, they would be caught. Lungs burning, Lucius burst through the surface and gulped air. Beside him Sorcha and Maonos did the same.
Had they been heard?
He turned his head for a glimpse of the enemy.
No one was in their pool of water and the sounds of destruction of vegetation were fainter now.
Lucius glimpsed horses and dogs splashing across the shallows upstream.
Relief flushed warm through his shivering body. They had escaped discovery. For now. If they could find their way to the meeting place with Sorcha’s family, he might just survive. “We keep going,” he said, gesturing for them to leave their hiding place.
Sorcha and her brother looked at each other, their brows furrowed, then nodded. With caution, Maonos led them back the way they had come until they could climb out of the stream. They headed west in dense forest.