The Patrician Read online

  Midday approached and the skies became overcast. It kept the heat down, providing some transient relief. The darkening clouds spit rain several times, but toward noon a deluge broke open, sending the overseers to cover, leaving the slaves to huddle in a miserable pile together beneath the torrential rain.

  Jared eased himself down against a hollow etched out of a wall of limestone overlooking one of the three rivers that ran through Gauis property. The chain between them jangled as Bryna reached up to brush wet strands of hair from her eyes. She was exhausted but still did not complain. He tamped down the spark of admiration at her endurance.

  The wind began to gust, blowing great sheets of water against them. The sky crackled with white blue streaks of lightening. Jared relished the soaking and found Bryna doing the same. She held her face up to the sky, eyes closed, water running in rivulets down her cheeks. She reminded him of one of the Greek’s wood nymphs, creatures with whom humans never fared well.

  Beyond where they sat, the river swelled with the cloudburst, great roiling rapids capped in white foam churning downstream beyond their sight. Jared glanced over his shoulder to the handful of guards standing dry and secure beneath a large rock shelf. They were talking among themselves, paying no attention to their charges.

  His gaze shifted down to the fetters around his ankles. The link he had been working to loosen, the one next to the cuff on his left ankle was cracked and orange with rust. There would be no better time. Stretching to his side, he found a stone of fair size and weight and began to pound the link with both hands.

  “What are you doing?” Bryna asked, her voice near lost with the sound of the downpour.

  He signaled for her to be quiet. The wet stone was difficult to hold, his hand trembled. Jared focused all his energy on his task, repeating in his head freedom, freedom, freedom. The mantra gave him the needed strength and in three solid blows, the chain broke free of the cuff at the same instant a sharp crack of thunder erupted above them. A good sign from the gods—he didn’t particularly care which one. The sky continued to rumble, the rain began to slack off. Soon, the storm would be over and all opportunity with it.

  Gods, it felt good to stretch his legs apart. Bryna watched, her face filled with question, fear and excitement. Jared gave her no time to react. He gripped her hand and scrambled down the embankment, headed straight for the cliff overlooking the river.

  “Are you mad?” she huffed out.

  In more ways than she could know. Without breaking his new found stride, pushing his exhausted body, dragging air into his lungs, he leapt into the rushing water.

  The force of the landing knocked the breath from his body and his head slipped beneath the white foam, before he kicked his legs and shot to the surface. He choked and sputtered, dragging air into his lungs while his right arm dragged below the water. Could the girl even swim? Grabbing the chain before her weight pulled him under, he tugged her to the surface. Bryna shot up like an arrow into the air, gasping for breath and fighting to stay afloat in the churning water.

  He reached out, encircled her in his arms, treaded water and allowed the rain swollen currents to sweep them downstream.

  The force of the water buffeted them against rocks and debris. A limestone ledge jutted out from the bank nearly blocking the narrow waterway. Jared just managed to roll his body as they grazed it, saving Bryna from the sharp edge even as it sliced deeply into his thigh. He did not care. He was free.

  The waterway grew calmer, narrowed and split, spilling over a jumbled formation of rocks into smaller rivulets. The rain was tapering off and sunlight streamed through the dissipating clouds. The soft silt of the bank pulled at their feet. Sliding his hand over Bryna’s, Jared staggered onto the bank, released her, and fell flat on his back, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs.

  Bryna knelt beside him, struggling to breathe. Her short hair was plastered to her head and the wet wool of her sheath outlined the contours of her body in delightful detail.

  “Are. . . you. . . insane?” she choked out. Coughing, she spit out a mouthful of water from her clogged her throat.

  “Probably,” he replied, panting. He couldn’t stop smiling, the muscles in his face protesting something he hadn’t done in so long. “But now I am also free.”

  Bryna wiped dripping water from her eyes, glared at him “For how long? They will soon be hunting us.” She scanned the woods behind them. “Baal has these massive dogs...”

  He rose on one elbow. “Did you not want your freedom?”

  The look she gave him said very plainly that she thought he was a lunatic. “Of course I want my freedom. I have wanted it every single day since I was taken captive. But shackled together this way. . .” she shook her head. “We will be easy prey for the overseer.”

  Both of them were breathing easier. Jared watched the emotions cross Bryna’s face. There was fear, a healthy one, but also hope.

  She snapped her head up and pinned him with a look as she picked up a rock. “Break my chain as you did your own,” she said as she thrust the stone at him, “I will be no further trouble to you. You may seek your path and I will seek my own.”

  He took the rock, considered it for a moment then tossed it into the water, ignoring her squeak of protest. “Without proper tools the links would take weeks to break.”

  “You broke yours!”

  “Mine were already weakened.” He glanced upstream “We need to get more distance between ourselves and the overseers. Besides,” he said, standing shakily, “there are several reasons why we will not part ways. First, I do not want to run the risk of your being captured and revealing the direction of my escape.”

  “I would never betray...” Her voice trailed off.

  The pain in her eyes jolted him, another of her tricks. “No,” he answered through clenched teeth, “I’m sure you wouldn’t—given the choice.” He wound her chain into his hand until she was forced to stand beside him. “Secondly, I don’t intend to let you out of my sight until I find out who was behind the scheme to kill me.”

  Conflicting emotions whirled in the green depths of her eyes. Small droplets of water spiked her auburn lashes. He felt a ludicrous desire to kiss them dry.

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “I agree. We’ll stay together. For now.”

  He pulled the chain and her arm with it. “A wise choice.”

  There was no time to take pleasure in the way her cheeks heated at his mockery. One thing on which they did agree—Baal would soon be hunting them. The water had not carried them far, perhaps a league or so, and he was certain that with the right incentive the remaining slaves would eagerly inform Baal of their flight. The vilicus would waste no time in launching a search.

  Jared surveyed the area. The river narrowed at this point. A jumble of mostly flat stones formed a crude walkway to the other side where a thick stand of trees sloped down to meet a sandy bank. The foliage would provide more than adequate coverage until they could put some distance between themselves and their captors. A good deal more distance

  “Wait,” she said as he placed his foot on the first stone. “Your leg. It is bleeding.”

  He followed her gaze to the long, thin gash running diagonally across his left thigh. Blood trickled in a steady stream down the length of his leg. He hadn’t paid the injury any attention before, but now felt the sting of the cut. It wasn’t life threatening and they needed to get moving. He tugged on the chain. “It can wait. We have to go.”

  Before he could press the issue, she bent over and ripped a length of cloth from the ragged hem of her shift. Expertly, she wound it around his leg. He tensed as her fingertips brushed against the heat of his skin. After an eternity, she tied the ends with two sturdy knots and looked up at him. “Leaving a trail of blood does not seem the wise thing to do when you are being hunted.”

  He nodded curtly. Taking her hand he noted again how small and delicate it was compared to his own. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  ***
>
  They traveled for hours, keeping to the shelter of the forest as much as they could, stopping only when their thirst demanded it. When faced with a meadow of tall grass they practically crawled on their bellies to reach the opposite side lest a stray farmer happen to see them. Bryna had done well, had managed to keep his pace, but after a while she slumped to the ground.

  “I must rest. My legs will carry me no farther.”

  Jared stopped reluctantly. By his estimate, they had covered at least ten leagues. A healthy distance, if their disappearance had not been discovered right away. But he wouldn’t relax until they put many more between themselves and slavery.

  Bryna held her sides, her face flushed from exertion and heat. “We can stop for a moment,” he agreed. “But only for a moment.”

  “You are so kind.”

  He ignored her jibe and eased down beside her, breathing his own sigh of relief. The muscles in his legs quivered and his stomach ached with hunger. They would have to find food soon if they were to continue.

  She glanced around. “Do you even know where we are going?”

  “I do.” He knew where he wanted to go. Where they needed to go, but he wasn’t about to admit that he had only a vague idea which direction they were traveling. Once the stars came out, the same stars he used to navigate his ships, he’d have a clearer picture.

  “Since I am forced to travel with you, should I not also know?” she asked dryly.

  He rubbed absently at the throbbing bandage on his leg. “How much have you traveled the Empire?”

  She pressed her lips together. “I have only traveled to Alexandria and to Gaius’ estate.”

  He raised a brow and pinned her with a look. “Then how would telling you matter?”

  She let out a sigh of pure exasperation and turned away from him, back straight, shoulders squared, stiff with pride and a measure of insolence that made him want to pull her over his knee for a sound thrashing. He pushed to his feet, pulled on the chain. “Come, we have wasted too much time.”

  Groaning, she struggled onto tired feet. Then paused, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Do you hear it?”

  “I hear nothing,” he said, fatigue and irritation swirling together until he was convinced he could somehow find the energy to silence her prattling.

  “In the distance. Do you hear it?” she repeated, her lilting accent a whisper tinged with urgency.

  His temper flared. They had no time to play foolish games. He opened his mouth to tell her as much, when he heard the far off sound of baying hounds.

  Bryna’s eyes went round. “They’ve found us!”

  His heart began to race. Forgetting the chain, he grabbed her hand and began to run. Her fingers curled around his in a tight grip.

  All fatigue fled with the rush of energy surging through his veins. The loose links between his legs whipped at his ankles, bruising the flesh, but he didn’t feel the pain. He was completely focused on evading their pursuers—and keeping his freedom.

  Through the thick brush edging the forest, he spied a ribbon of water, another tributary winding in the direction of the river. Slowing, he paused at the water’s edge. The barking of the dogs grew louder, interspersed with shouts from Baal and his men.

  The waterway was not quite as wide here, but was probably as deep as the rest. In the distance, the water spilled over a sheer wall in a violent waterfall. It would be suicide to risk the jump, sure death if they did not.

  He spotted an ancient olive tree growing precariously close to the embankment, a rogue plant thriving in the rich silt of the river. Its gnarled trunk soared toward the sky, spreading its branches in a canopy of feather-shaped gray green leaves and small flowering buds.

  A sharp yelp sounded much too close. Bryna, edged so close to him he could feel her trembling, watched the woods anxiously. He waded into the ice cold stream and using every reserve of strength he had grabbed the lowest branch and swung himself into the tree.

  “Hurry, take my hand!” He reached down and grasped Bryna by the arm, hoisting her up beside him. “Climb higher into the tree! Be quick about it!” She scrambled up the stout branches, stopping when the limbs became too thin to hold weight. Jared wedged himself against two forked limbs, pulled her against his chest. He could feel the pounding of her heart, smell her rain washed hair.

  “They have the scent, Baal!” shouted an overseer. “We’ll have them soon enough.”

  His mouth went dry. They were close. So very close.

  “Keep the beasts away from them.” answered Baal. “I want them captured alive!”

  His breath caught as he peered down through the leaves. The hated vilicus stood directly beneath them, fists on hips, surveying the area. One guard and then another joined him, each straining to hold the leash of a huge mastiff.

  “They must be close, Baal,” one predicted. “The animals are mad with bloodlust.”

  “They have been here,” agreed the vilicus, scanning the surrounding ground.

  Bryna trembled in his arms. Jared held her tighter, eased his hand over her mouth. The leaves and flowers might shield them if they remained quiet.

  Baal squatted at the water’s edge, looking for tracks. “They jumped into the water,” he said, rising slowly.

  “Then they must have drowned.” The second overseer yanked the leash of his lunging canine.

  Baal scratched his head. “Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. Slaves are masters of deception.”

  Just then a stiff breeze kicked up. The noise of the rustling foliage drew Baal’s attention. He squinted upward into the tree.

  Jared was prepared to fight, to die rather than go back to life under the lash. Punishment for runaways was often torture, more often death. But he would not go quietly, not before he sent a good number of them to Hades. He glanced down at the woman in his arms and felt a moment’s regret that he had involved her in his impetuous scheme.

  The dense cover of the olive tree resisted nature’s efforts to expose them—or Baal had a short attention span. Either way, he sighed inwardly with relief as the vilicus pointed downstream, ordered his men to search the riverbank for the bodies of the slaves.

  Jared waited several more moments before shifting position. The rattling of the chains on his wrists sounded like a blast from a trumpet. A sharp pain shot through his hand. He snatched his hand away from Bryna’s mouth, glaring at the red bite mark on his palm. “Damn you, witch.”

  She squirmed in his arms. “Never touch me again!”

  He tightened his hold until she stilled. “I will do whatever I need to, whenever I need to,” he growled in her ear.

  She twisted around to look at him, those extraordinary green eyes shooting sparks. “Does that include smothering me to death?”

  “I could not risk you making noise and disclosing our hiding place.”

  “Agghhh!” She slapped at his arm. “Are you really that thick skulled?” she snapped. “I, too, am a runaway slave. They would make no allowance for the fact that I had no choice in the matter.”

  “Back to choices again?” he snarled. “Tell me, given the choice would you have remained a slave on Gaius’ estate?”

  Frustration creased her brow. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath before answering. “How many times must you be told that I abhor the Romans. All Romans! I have never served them willing and certainly was not content to stay beneath their yoke.” A determined light swept into her eyes. “I would have escaped soon.”

  “Those plans were nullified two days ago when you caused yourself to be shackled to me,” he reminded her. He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “I know. . . you had no choice.” He released her then, allowing her to climb onto an opposite bough. “And you still have no choice. You follow my orders without question or complaint. Do you understand?” It was a statement, not a request. She shot him a hot glare.

  “I will follow your lead. . . for now.” she answered, her eyes narrowing to mere slits of green fire. “But when we are free
of these chains, then I will be free of you!”

  Chapter Ten

  Bryna rubbed her hands over her flushed face. She was tired. She was hot. She was hungry. Gods, when had she not been hungry? Even the berries they’d eaten hours earlier had failed to fill the painful hollow of her stomach.

  Berries and water. That was all the sustenance they’d had for the past three days. She grit her teeth as Jared reached to scratch his back—pulling her other arm in the process. Then, she had been a slave of the Romans, subject to a cruel and indifferent master. Now, she was stuck with another one, who was just as demanding and possibly more arrogant. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was a Roman.

  Traveling under the protective cover of night, they’d managed to elude capture by Baal and his minions, though now and again she thought she heard the distant howl of the dogs. Jared would growl at her, telling her her imagination was playing tricks. But she noticed him looking over his shoulder more than once.

  Taking advantage of the vilicus’ assumption that they would take the easiest path downstream, Jared had led them on a relentless course in the opposite direction. Veering away from the river, they had cut a hard path across the countryside through dense forests.

  At first she had done well, as eager as he to gain distance from their captors. But heat, hunger and fatigue was taking its toll. Add a sharply rising temper with each admonition for her to stop lagging behind to the mix and she was close to exploding like one of the fiery volcanoes Boy had told her about.

  Jared stood, pulling her up with him. Without a word, he started walking. Bryna groaned, pulled her arm against the chain and followed.

  The bright pink and orange streaks of dawn were just beginning to light the eastern sky, when Jared pointed to a dense thicket. “We’ll rest the day there. It’s well concealed with a good vantage point from which to keep watch.” He started up the hillside. Bryna jerked on the chain, refusing to budge. She was exhausted and her bare feet were rock bruised and painful. He tugged insistently on the chain. She pulled back. She would count herself fortunate, if when it was said and done, her arm was not pulled from its socket. He turned and glared at her, those gold eyes filled with a now all too familiar ire. “Now what?”