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CHAPTER TWELVE: THE TIGRESS
Sydney swung the axe with all her might. She was nearly through the chains, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. In the corner of her vision, she spotted Demetrius, stalking across the ring, his roar more menacing than any of the beasts. Derek, who had managed to cow the big cats into retreat, now discerned an even more determined opponent who striding towards him. ‘Sydney! We’ve got trouble…’ Sydney resolutely hacked through the final part of the metal chains. Bluthus jumped to his feet with surprising agility for a man of such indolence. Nigel didn’t stir. Sensing greater urgency in Derek’s voice as he hollered again, Sydney placed her hand on Nigel’s shoulder and gently shook him. ‘Nigel, do you think you can move?’ She knew as she said it that this was a tall order. ‘Syd…sorry. I’m…I’m not feeling so good…’ Her assistant’s eyes had lulled shut again and, when she removed the remnants of the chains, his freed arms dropped languidly. It was as if the restraints had been the only force that animated him. ‘Don’t worry.’ She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then jumped up and grabbed the now retreating Bluthus by the tunic. He staggered back with an ‘oomph!’ ‘You! You’re going to help Nigel,’ she ordered. ‘Get him away from the tigers. You must keep him safe!’ As he opened his mouth to object, she added: ‘if you even think about skulking away by yourself, not only will you be fed to the tigers, I will personally chop up their dinner for them! Do you understand me, Bluthus?’ Bluthus nodded chastely, but the side of his mouth twitched nervously in a way that she did not trust. Sydney glanced over her shoulder, and saw that the tiger, which Derek had lured off, was now stalking back. Bluthus’ toes, poking out of his sandals, were also fidgeting. He was ready to run. The vision crashed into Sydney’s mind with the next beat of her heart: Nigel, lying on the sand in a pool of blood, his skin an ashen grey. He wasn’t breathing. He’d never breath again. There was no choice to be made. She knew a dozen men like Derek Lloyd and a hundred men as worthless as Bluthus. There was only one Nigel. She wouldn't trust his fate to the whims of this unreliable man, even if Derek's life depended on it. She couldn’t. Sydney thrust the axe into Bluthus’ hands and pointed to the Special Agent, now locked in mortal combat with the gladiator owner: ‘If you're not the coward I think you are, go and help him,’ she stated, her voice eerily calm. ‘If you are…so be it.’ Leaving the fates of both Bluthus and Derek in their own keeping, she turned around to face the big cat. ……………………………… The tigress was distressed and hungry. She was so close to easy prey, yet still some aggressive creature came between her and her dinner. She snarled and bore her fangs in frustration as Sydney swished her sword just inches from her nose. Aggravated, she drew back on her haunches, ready to pounce. Sydney raised her sword for another defensive swipe. Their eyes locked together, female to female. For Sydney, the pandemonium was momentarily blocked out by a string of words that never even uttered from her lips. ‘Please don’t take him from me, Mafdet. I’m on your side, girl.’ The tiger roared and pounced, but not in the direction of Sydney and Nigel. Bluthus, who had stood motionless with the axe raised since Sydney had deserted him, bellowed with alarm, turned on his heels and fled, as the big cat charged after. ‘Thank you Mafdet,’ whispered Sydney. She never knew for sure if the feline goddess of protection helped her, but she always liked to believe so. ………………………….. Derek was a trained fighter, but not such an experienced gladiator as Demetrius. The wily, old trainer knew every trick of the ring and never hesitated to play dirty. So far, however, that had not been necessary. Derek had no shield, and was constantly on his back foot. He valiantly used his sword to block Demetrius’ showering blows, but was given little chance to strike back. With every smash, his opponent drove him nearer the swiping claws of the increasingly hungry lions and tigers. The crowd jeered; this was all too one-sided and there hadn’t even been any blood yet. This wasn’t what they’d paid for! They wanted to see the ‘warrior princess’ in action, and all she was doing was clinging to the body of an apparently dying man. Rotten fruit began plummeting into the arena from the marauding hordes. Demetrius, hating the thought of his public dissatisfied, resorted to the oldest trick in the book. He kicked sand in Derek's face, then moved in and gave him a mighty shove with his shield. The Special Agent staggered back, raised a hand to his stinging eyes, and lost his footing. The tigers leapt forward, as Derek thrashed blindly with his blade. Demetrius laughed and stepped back. Now he could face down the ‘warrior princess,’ while the animals finished the job. Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, he turned, raising his weapon with a flourish. He was ready for combat. Instead of the graceful form of the ‘warrior princess’, however, he saw a rotund, elderly man, trotting at his top speed, with an angry looking tigress snapping at his skirts. Demetrius hesitated, feeling unthreatened but unsure how to kill. It was only then that he saw the axe flying at him. Thrown with an inexpert desperation, the weapon hit its mark anyway. Every lion and tiger in the arena sensed the impact and smelt the blood. Retreating from the still resisting Derek, they descended with relish upon their easy prey. ……………………. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.’ Sydney lifted Nigel’s arm around her shoulders. Keeping hold of his hand, she wrapped her other arm around his waist, and hauled him to his feet. She was unsurprised when all of his weight collapsed back against her, and gritted her teeth against the force. She wasn’t prepared, however, for her assistant to start choking convulsively. Sydney let Nigel slide back down against the post, worried she had triggered this turn for the worse. She stroked his hair until the coughing passed, glancing up for a second to note, almost passively, that Demetrius was dead. Derek, apparently uninjured, was picking himself up off the arena floor. Looking down, Sydney’s horror was infinitely greater when Nigel drew back a crumpled hand, with which he had still politely covered his mouth. It was splattered with blood. She grasped his wrist and stared at his partially curled fingers, her mind searching wildly for its meaning. ‘My God, Nigel. How long has this been happening?’ ‘Since…I fell…but I think it was that gladiator…who hit me…Syd?’ The shock on her face alarmed Nigel as much as his own pained struggles. Usually, these symptoms would have panicked the hell out of him but, until now, his ankle had bothered him more persistently. Besides, his world had long since descended into a fevered haze in which all his ills blurred as one. ‘It’ll pass…won’t it?’ ‘Everything is going to be fine.’ Her words were hushed, but Sydney screamed inside. She was no doctor, but she was aware this must be serious. Could he by dying? Then it struck her that Nigel had been bludgeoned because he’d defended her… At a temporary loss for what to do, she caressed his wrist with her thumb and repeated, as firmly as she could, ‘everything is going to be just fine.’ As Derek approached, Syd wondered vacantly if she should be mad with him for leaving Nigel, or if he would be angry with her for not coming to his aid. As it was, he simply knelt down beside her and said, ‘Hey.’ Then he saw Nigel’s hand. ‘Christ!’ ‘It was when he coughed…’ said Sydney, dry eyed but deadly grave. ‘He said it’s been happening since earlier…why did you say he was okay, Derek?’ ‘I didn’t know,’ said Derek, sincerely. He took Nigel’s wrist from Sydney loose grasp and leaned in towards him, not quite nudging Sydney out of the way but certainly displacing her. He patted Nigel on the side of his face. ‘Hey, buddy?’ Nigel’s dimming eyes engaged with Derek’s and he forced a cheeky smile. ‘Are we…in that…country pub, yet?’ ‘We’ll save the talking for when we are, eh? We need to make a little journey.’ Nigel’s smile faded with an almost indiscernible shake of the head. ‘Can’t…’ ‘I know, buddy.’ Sydney felt curiously redundant as Derek hooked Nigel’s arm around his own neck. Then, slipping his other arm under Nigel’s knees, he raised himself to his feet, groaning at the extra strain. Although Nigel was slighter than he was, he was only a little shorter. Carrying him wasn’t a negligible task. Sydney, struggling to come to terms, knew she should be pleased: she could never have carried Nigel so comfortably or, indeed, as far as Derek probably could. Nevertheless, she suppressed a strange pang of jealousy when Nigel tentatively lifted his other arm and clung around Derek’s neck. ‘Focus, Sydney,’ she told herself, ‘there’s work to do.’ She placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. ‘Had enough of the zoo, Derek?’ ‘You could say so!’ Sydney spotted Derek had a nasty claw-slash on his face, and realised she not even looked at him since he'd extracted himself from his ordeal. ‘Next time, let's stick to the penguins, shall we?’ ‘I’m just fine with that!’ affirmed Derek. ‘Now come on, we need to get out of here while the chimps are still watching ‘feeding time.’ I’ll shoo them away.’ ‘Thank Sydney,’ nodded Derek. ‘I’ve got my hands full here!’ The stadium was in uproar. The crowd were pointing and shouting as the big cats tore apart their feast. The guards were in disarray – and not all were unhappy - as they watched their master’s demise. Sydney smiled affirmatively at Derek, and turned to Bluthus. The professor was hovering some metres away with knocking knees, observing the feeding frenzy he had caused. She shot him a withering glare: ‘Are you coming, then?’ Bluthus looked surprised. He had fully expected to be left behind by the ‘violent woman,' but he wasn't saying ‘no’ to an easy passage out. Sydney saw him fall behind them, and muttered to himself: ‘ I might find some use for you yet, you slithering reptile!’ …………………………………….. Such was the uproar that only two guards stood in the way of the ‘warrior princess’ as she and her little party made their bid for freedom. It was a wild Sydney Fox who dispatched them quickly, much pent-up frustration adding to the force of her swiping sword and her flying kicks to the head. Agroitus writhed in anger as he saw them depart from the arena, but could do little to stop them. He dispatched men, left, right and centre, but Sydney and the others had already slipped into the crowds, who had at last had their fill of gore and were moving 'en masse' out of the gates. The threatening glint in Sydney’s eyes, however, made all who went too near them scurry like mice. Predictably, once the worst danger was passed, Professor Bluthus attempted to slip away into the night. Sydney grabbed hold of his trailing toga the instant she heard his sandals shuffle awkwardly in the dirt. ‘They really should put you on the Athletics squad at Oxford, Bluthus. You’ve got quite a turn of speed when you want it, haven’t you?’ Bluthus mumbled something about being ‘more of a cricket man,’ but Sydney wasn't interested. ‘You've been living here a while, right?’ ‘I can't help you, Professor Fox,’ he blurted. ‘ I just killed a prominent citizen of Nevium. I must head for the woods and hide with the peasants!’ ‘Then that's where we’re all going, Bluthus. How do we get out of the city?’ Bluthus leaned forward confidentially. ‘We can’t. But it’s not you, my dear,’ he whispered, ‘it them.’ Here he indicated Derek and Nigel with his head. ‘Even if they're not looking for us all together, it’ll look far too suspicious. Nobody would carry a sick man from the city at this time of night. Besides,’ he hushed his voice even further, ‘the poor boy looks done for.’ Sydney’s anger peaked at his words finished, but she suppressed the overwhelming desire to punch his lights out. ‘Nigel's not dying, Bluthus,’ she spat the words with hopeful venom, ‘but we need a place that’s safe and out of the night. So you're going to show me where I can get a cart, a horse and blankets, and take us somewhere to hide.’ As the Oxford Don backed away, shaking his head, she added: ‘Otherwise, I swear Bluthus, it'll be you that’s done for!’ ‘Fine,’ said Bluthus, with a notable lack of enthusiasm. ‘Follow me, then.’ Without dropping her guard, Sydney followed the professor. Derek trailed behind, straining to hold his burden tighter as Nigel's clasp around him quietly slipped away. ……………………. Bluthus led them back to his master, Marcellus,’ house, hoping they could sneakily ‘borrow’ a horse and cart. They were in luck. The whole house was dark apart from a light from the kitchens, and it appeared nobody important had yet got back from the amphitheatre. ‘There,’ hissed Bluthus, pointing to an outhouse, and kindling a little oil lamp he’d picked up from a windowsill. ‘Sort out the wagon, and I’ll get some blankets.’ He passed Sydney the lamp. ‘Okay. And don't even consider pulling a fast one!’ Bluthus rumbled ‘hhmmmm’ and doddered off. There was indeed a wagon in the outhouse, and a steady looking nag was stabled around the back. Sydney brought the horse and fitted a harness as Derek settled Nigel in the back of the cart. As soon as she'd finished, she hurried over. ‘I’ll take him, now.’ Sydney’s face betrayed both anxiety and impatience. She leant keenly over Nigel, who Derek still partially supported in his arms. ‘Okay,’ said Derek, sensing her need. He carefully laid Nigel’s upper body in Sydney’s lap. Nigel felt a little cold, so Syd wrapped her arms around him, pulling him up towards her chest, trying to make him more comfortable. As she shifted him, however, she heard a sharp gasp followed by a disconsolate murmur. ‘Sorry,’ whispered Syd, and eased Nigel back down, cursing herself. Why did she have to hurt him? He never seemed to flinch at Derek’s touch. To her relief, Nigel then relaxed against her, his face peaceful and his breathing steady. All the while, Derek looked on uneasily. ‘What’s the plan, Sydney?’ Sydney wished it were Nigel's familiar tones that asked those words, so common to them. ‘We’ll lay low in the back here. You and Bluthus will drive us out of the city, and he'll take us somewhere safe.’ ‘You’ve thought of nothing better than to trust that incompetent civilian? Sydney, it's not good enough! ’ Sydney’s answer betrayed her weariness. ‘What you want me to say, Derek? Why don't you have a plan?’ ‘Sorry,’ said Derek, raising his hand to his forehead and rubbed it with frustration. ‘ I guess my nerves are a little frayed.’ Sydney sighed, ‘No, I'm sorry. This is all my fault.’ Her eyes did not move from Nigel’s still form. ‘I should have come up with a better plan when we got here. I've always trusted my instincts… and they've always come through for me. But here…it's been different, Derek. The tide’s been flowing so hard against us…’ ‘You can't blame yourself,’ said Derek, settling himself on the back of the wagon next her. ‘ This hasn't be your everyday relic hunt, has it? This is a cruel world, a brutal time. Only the strong survive…’ Derek regretted the words even as he said them, but pre-empted Sydney's fears. ‘Nigel’s strong enough. He'll pull through.’ He caught her escaping tear on his thumb, and cupped her chin in his hand, turning her face towards his. ‘I won't let him die, Sydney.’ At that moment, Bluthus burst back through the stable-door, his arms filled with blankets. ‘Ooooh,’ he gasped, then clicked his tongue, as they both turned with a start: ‘it’s hardly a time for hanky panky, is it? And over the body of that poor, sick, boy as well! The youth of today…’ Shaking his head, he shoved the blankets at Sydney. ‘Hide under those and pretend to be sacks of olives. Thank God it's dark!’ ‘Thanks,’ mumbled Sydney, wishing more than ever that she could trust Derek’s words. The old academic jumped into the front of the cart with considerable buoyancy and shouted ‘gee up!’ The horse had barely moved a muscle, however, when Bluthus cried: ‘Whoa!’ A figure in the doorway had caused him to pull the reigns back urgently. ‘Where are you going, you old donkey?’ ‘Lady Anita!’ The glamorously robed, blond-haired girl was, indeed, she. ‘Keep going,’ hissed Sydney, without a clue who ‘Lady Anita’ was. ‘She’ll get out of the way soon enough!’ Bluthus, dithering as ever, had stopped dead. ‘Take the reigns and drive on,’ she whispered to Derek, who started forward. ‘Who’s that in the back?’ inquired Anita. ‘Are you consorting with thieves…oh, salutations!’ As Derek landed on the seat next to Bluthus, the girl's eyes lit up. ‘Bluthus! Introduce me to this handsome rogue!’ Derek, who hadn't had a clue what either of them were saying, reached for the reigns but was somewhat perturbed when the woman placed her hand on his firm, muscular thigh. ‘Don't run off with this old donkey,’ she implored him. ‘ I don't even care if you’re a barbarian, or a highway robber. Someone dared stand me up this evening, and I'm through with boring patricians.’ She swished her long hair romantically in a bid to excite him. ‘You look like a real man. Take me off into the wilderness!’ Derek looked curiously at the girl. ‘She wants you to run away with her,’ explained Bluthus, earnestly. ‘Tell her I’m flattered, but it'll have to wait for another time.’ Derek, swiped her hand off his leg, yanked the reigns and the horse started forward. ‘No!’ squealed Anita. She staggered clear of the cart’s wheels but, to everybody's approbation, she then leapt into the back. Sydney angrily threw off the blanket that concealed her head. ‘Will you be careful!’ she barked. Anita was surprised by the woman's presence and feared she had a rival. ‘Why should I?’ she retorted, and tugged off the rest of the blankets to see if there were any other occupants. ‘Oh. It’s him!’ Nigel still lay with his head in Sydney's lap, apparently sound asleep. As Anita scrutinised him in the lamplight, she could clearly see he was not the ‘fine specimen’ she’d been playing with yesterday. ‘By the Gods,’ she gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. ‘What happened to him?’ ‘If you remember, Miss Anita,’ said Bluthus matter-of-factly, ‘he displeased you. Your father had him beaten and sold to the arena - you didn't exactly object at the time, did you? Everything sort of spiralled from there.’ ‘I do recall,’ said Anita carelessly. ‘He disobeyed me! But I didn't want this to happen. Some times I forget that slaves, well, bleed!’ ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Sydney, shifting Nigel onto a blanket and moving towards the simpering girl. ‘You're responsible for this?’ ‘Not at all!’ she retorted. ‘I realise now I didn't want him broken. If he can be fixed, I'll have him back.’ Syndey looked on in disbelief as Anita mused: ‘he was so pretty, so nice to kiss… and so nice to touch.’ Her hands drifted out towards Nigel, as if to see if this were still the case. Sydney slapped her wrist. ‘Hands off!’ ‘Why should I?’ snapped Anita. ‘I'm sure Father will buy him back for me if I want him. After all, he was mine…’ ‘He was never yours! He was always mine… in a manner of speaking. ’ Sydney’s fist contacted hard with Anita’s jaw, sending her soaring from the back of the wagon. The patricians daughter landed, bottom first, in a pile of dung, shrieking with frustration. ‘Sometimes,’ said Syd, ‘I just love hitting women!’ …………………. Sydney brushed her hands together, as if removing the dirt from such a despicable being, and then looked in curiosity as a small object clattered to a rest in the back of the wagon. It had obviously slipped out of the skirts of her rival as she’d fallen back. It was a shard of green crystal. ‘Part of Hatshepsut’s Eye?’ mused Sydney. As she reached down to pick it up, she was pleasantly surprised when one of Nigel's hands darted out and seized it from where it lay, just inches from his fingers. He then opened one eye, and blessed her with a naughty, lopsided grin. ‘Nigel! You're awake!’ Sydney shuffled over and scooped him back into her arms. He still seemed fairly weak. ‘I do seem to be, don’t I?’ he said, with only a slight wheeze. ‘You've been scaring off my romantic conquests, again, I see?’ ‘Yeah, I want to ask you about that,’ said Sydney, gratefully tagging his jovial tone. ‘What's all this about touching and kissing?’ Nigel sighed. ‘ It was all in the name of relic hunting, honestly. And, believe me, she enjoyed it more than I did…’ His voice trailed off as he suppressed a cough and swallowed hard. Sydney smoothed back his hair. ‘ You can explain later, darling.’ she said soothingly. Nigel rewarded her with another mischievous smile. ‘That’s three ‘darlings’…and one ‘sweetheart.’’ Sydney eyes widened with amused pleasure: ‘you’re counting, Nigel?’ On at least a couple of occasions when she had used those words, he had seemed barely ‘with it.’ ‘Maybe,’ said Nigel, ‘does this mean I get to call you ‘sweetcheeks?’’ Sydney giggled. ‘Err…No!’ How could he be thinking of Stewie Harper and his nicknames at a time like this? At least he was still, well, Nigel! ‘Now you'd better be quiet, my darling’ she instructed. ‘ We’re coming up to the city gates.’ Nigel's smile flickered away as Sydney lay down and cuddled up around him. ‘Are you hidden?’ asked Bluthus, checking as Syd drew the blanket over them. ‘All set,’ said Syd. Derek drove the wagon forward with an expression of studied disinterest. He could hardly contain his relief, however, as the guards, sleepy and unconcerned, waved them through.
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