Chapter thirteen

The walls of Vindolanda rose before her eyes as she urged the large horse to push for just that little bit longer, she chanted over and over to just get to the gates, just to the gates. The weight on the man behind her was the biggest incentive to get to safety as quick as possible; there was no way of him surviving otherwise.

“I have Albus Octavius, he’s injured!” Esma shouted back just as Juan had told her. “The Legion from Deva are a few hours behind, I was sent ahead.”

The large gates creaked open and three men came forth, two taking Albus from the horse and the third taking the reins from her hands and leading the horse through the gates.

“But who are you?” The third man asked, narrowing his eyes at her not intimidated by the small woman before him. “Why should we let you in?”

“I am the wife of Octavian Blandus.” She stated slipped off of the horse and patting its head as he panted from the extreme ride. “Who are you?”

“Regulus, I’m in charge for now.” He shrugged, “The last legion left a few days ago, we’ve been waiting for your train. Follow me.”

“Is there a healer here?” Esma asked suddenly realising he’d said the last legion were well gone.

“No.” he stated, “That’s why you’re coming through; women can sew can they not?”

“This one can’t.” she huffed just to watch his jaw drop in fear, “But I can stitch men together.”

“Tell us what you need, we’ll be more than happy to help.” One of the men who’d carried Albus through, “I’m Maximus my lady.”

“Please, Esma.” She smiled walking over and slowly stripping Albus of his padding. “I’ll need everything you’ve got, and a fire.”

“Cauterise?” the third man asked, Esma nodded repressing a shudder, she hated doing it, but parts were so deep it was needed. “We’ll need a forth man.”

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A wet cloth pressed against Albus’ forehead, pulling him from the burning heat that was slowly wrapping around his body, he tried to push into it but pain ripped through his body. The cold feeling passed across his chest and towards his stomach before it was chased away by a fire that burnt deep inside.

“Is he awake yet?” A familiar male voice asked, he sounded bored.

“No, I’m starting to get worried.” A soft angelic voice sang, she sounded worried. “It’s all my fault, I ran off and he followed straight into an ambush.”

“Should have ran faster.”

“Haha.” The sarcastic reply came, he wanted to laugh but nothing happened. “How are you anyway?”

“You have been neglecting me.” The bored reply came as something heavy landed across his legs. “I’m fine, bored. I hate Hadrian’s.”

Albus remembered where he was, Hadrian’s Wall. He’d followed Esma into the woods when she’d run off and they were ambushed, then he kissed her . . . or did he just think about it? Esma, she’d been there all the way through the fevers.

“Are you pregnant then?” the man asked, Albus’ ears burnt as he focused his energy on listening in. This couldn’t be Blandus, and that means his Esma hadn’t been with him through the fevers.

“You don’t know straight away, it takes like a month or something. . . I have no idea; I’m not exactly surrounded by women telling me everything.” The voice teased, it sure as hell sounded like Esma.

“Does that mean I have to do you again?”

“Remember what comes out in the end, your own family.” The voice was soft, soothing and moving about the room. “Octavian, please just do this for me once a month.”

“Fine.” He ground out, “I don’t like liking you.”

“But you do.”

“Despite myself.”

Esma looked up at her husband and saw the ghost of a smile on his lips as he lifted the armour off of Albus’ legs, she narrowed her eyes at him and he actually smirked back at her in amusement.

“Bye Blandus.”

“What happened to Octavian?” he teased throwing a piece of bread at her. “Or is that only when you want something?”

“Yup.” She grinned as he shook his head and left the room, leaving her to care for her charge.

She watched his face carefully, just as she had done for the past four days hoping for a flicker of alertness, a sound or a flinch, anything!

“Please wake up Al.” she whispered resting her forehead against his, “I hate being alone.”