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CHAPTER 15: NEW TERRITORIES
As Sydney crept back towards the clearing, peering through the trees, she had a hunch that something was not quite right. Nigel certainly wasn't sitting where she’d left him… She paused before she emerged from the cover of the undergrowth, trying to senseof danger. Nothing obvious was amiss. She moved a swift couple of steps forward, but was halted abruptly when a hand shot out from a bush and grabbed her ankle. Her sword raised as a reflex as Sydney grabbed for her assailant with the intention of pulling them from their hiding place and striking. All that was forthcoming, however, was a warm blanket under which was hiding… ‘Nigel!’ ‘My God, Syd!’ he seethed. 'Who the bloody hell did you think it was? You told me to hide in the bushes…what were you going to do? Chop me in half?’ ‘Of course not,’ said Syd, half convincingly. She lowered her weapon and picked up on his hushed tone. ‘Why did you try and trip me up?’ ‘I wasn't trying to trip you up,’ whispered Nigel, crawling out of the niche he had found in the foliage. He had several twigs stuck in his hair. ‘I was trying to stop you going back to the cabin.’ ‘Why? Are there soldiers?’ Sydney crouched down so be at the same level as her assistant and brushed off the twigs and some dirt from his tunic. She couldn’t help wondering quite how he’d managed to get in a mess again so quickly. ‘Bluthus came sniffing around,’ explained Nigel. ‘I think he came alone, but I didn't trust him. Besides, anyone could have followed him here.' ‘Did you speak to him?’ Nigel rolled his eyes. ‘Oh yes. We had a delightful conversation. That man is enough to drive anyone to violence!’ Sydney read between the lines: ‘Did you hit him, Nigel?’ Nigel shrugged, a naughty smile flickering on his lips. ‘I might have done.’ Syd patted him on the back. ‘Good work!’ Nigel’s smile grew rapidly into a grin, but they both realised they had not time to rest on their laurels. Nigel caught the grim look in Sydney’s eyes, beneath her pleasure in seeing him, which communicated that she'd had little luck on her trip. ‘No sign of Derek, then?’ ‘No. Just dozens of Agroitus’ men, plundering and burning, and very keen to spend some quality time with me! There is another settlement a couple of miles off where Derek might have gone. We better try there next.’ ‘We?’ Nigel looked at her wearily. ‘I suppose this is the bit where you drag me at breakneck speed through the woods, despite the fact I can barely hobble?’ Sydney grimaced apologetically. ‘I’m afraid so. You can’t stay if there is a chance this place will be discovered. At least nobody is yet on our tail, as far as we know…’ Sydney stood up and again surveyed the area, checking all seemed clear. She then reached down to haul Nigel to his feet. As she did so, however, Nigel yanked his arm out her grip. ‘Uh uh. I’m not just your assistant now. I won’t do it unless I get a kiss!’ Syd’s eyes widened with amusement. It had occurred to her that admitting her feelings for Nigel would change the dynamics of their relationships. This blackmail on his part, however, was unforeseen, if not entirely unattractive. After a moment of pondering, Syd agreed with a giggle. ‘Okay, Nigel.’ She leant down and pecked him on the cheek. Nigel pouted petulantly. ‘It won’t do! I want a proper kiss, Syd.’ Sydney kissed him on the lips, and he returned the favour. ‘Is that good enough?’ Nigel, still savouring the moment, licked his lips and nodded. He was rather blown away by his success. Would she kiss him every time he demanded it? ‘Now come on. Derek might need us.’ Nigel took her arm, and his crutch, and started on his arduous journey with his best semblance of enthusiasm. ……………… Sydney experienced pangs of conscience, much stronger than she had ever felt on previous occasions, for dragging an ailing Nigel through the woods. It was not helped by the matter that he was quieter and less complaining than usual. She couldn't help remembering that it was barely a day since she'd feared for his life, and that the exertion could hardly be doing him any favours. Besides, something else had changed. The vague and unarticulated sentiments of the past had become crystal clear. Nigel was infinitely precious to her. Nevertheless, as they reach the bottom of a steep bank that led up towards the road, Nigel decided enough was enough. He tugged her arm and said: ‘You've got to be kidding?’ ‘Sorry, Nigel. It's the only way.’ Nigel sank exhausted onto for a comfy-looking bed of leaves and moss. ‘Just give me a minute.’ He looked fully ready to sleep for several hours. ‘Okay, but just a minute.’ Syd lay down next to him, resting her chin on one hand, and letting the fingers of the other wander fondly over his chest. Through the thin fabric, it felt to Nigel like she was touching his bare flesh. It tickled but was oddly relaxing. This is nice, thought Sydney, but they could not linger. After about thirty seconds, she tapped his cheek and tilted his face towards her, causing his eyes to snap unwillingly open . ‘Sorry, Nigel, but your time’s up. We’ve got to go.’ Nigel looked at her pleadingly. ‘Syd! That wasn’t even a minute.’ He yawned as she offered another of her new apologetic expressions. ‘You’re going to have to offer me some more motivation. Make the spirit willing, and all that…’ ‘Okay, Nigel.’ She stood up and brushed down her clothes. ‘Derek could be in trouble.’ ‘Yes. I know…’ said Nigel, now guiltily, through gritted teeth. ‘I'm motivating myself, I'm really trying!’ He didn't move. ‘There are snakes in this part of France!’ Nigel raised himself on his elbows optimistically. ‘This is helping. Poisonous ones?’ ‘Adders. They can give you a nasty nip.’ Nigel nodded keenly, and sat up. ‘And, of course, there is always that enormous spider crawling up your leg!’ ‘Where? Aaargh!’ Nigel shook his leg violently - fortunately the good one -, as Sydney swept off the offending beastie. He then managed the closest thing he could to jumping to his feet and leant forward against Sydney with a groan. ‘Motivated?’ asked Syd. ‘As much as ever,’ lamented Nigel, dropping his forehead down onto her shoulder. ‘Why me, Sydney? Why is it always me??’ ‘I don't know Nigel, I really don't,’ replied Syd, shaking her head in bafflement as she fondled the back of his hair. ‘You do seem to have some sort of magnetic attraction to menace, don't you?’ Nigel raised his head and stared at her blearily as she announced inspiritingly: ‘Come on! We’ve got a bank to climb!’ ……… They hit the road to the village soon after the struggle up the bank and skirted along its wooded edges, keeping under cover where they could. They heard and smelt the village, long before it was in sight. The pungent odour of smoke and burning filled the air, mingled with the cries of women, men and children. It was obvious that Agroitus’ soldiers were carrying out their dirty work, avenging the stolen wine and treats, and looking for the ‘warrior princess.’ ‘You'd better stay here,’ whispered Sydney to Nigel, as they crouched down, still in the foliage. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Nigel, concerned. 'You can't take them all on.’ ‘I’ll be careful. We need to find out about Derek, don't we? And I might just be able to help those people…’ ‘I don't appreciate being dumped in the bushes every five minutes, you know?’ hissed Nigel. ‘What about the spiders and the snakes? There might be wild boar as well. Very nasty!’ In truth, he feared as much for her safety as his own ‘Better than Roman soldiers, eh? Stay undercover.’ Nigel opened his mouth to protest, but she squeezed his knee and was gone. ‘Great!’ thought Nigel. ‘What if she gets captured too?’ This thought was motivation enough. His contributions to her fights were slight, but he was quietly aware they were often pivotal. While he had no chance of catching up with her, he decided to must strive in the direction of the commotion. Nigel began stumbling from tree to tree, wondering whether or not to ditch the hated crutch, which had been getting tangled in brambles and roots all day. He soon reached a cluster of small, mud cabins, not unlike their accomodation in the forest. The soldiers had obviously been there recently: fire was rapidly spreading between their thatched roofs. Nobody seemed to be around apart from a confused looking donkey, standing out of harm's way in the middle of the muddy track that constituted a street. Nigel was about to move on towards the centre of the action, when, to his horror, he heard a wailing noise. Peeping out from behind a tree, the sound came again – unmistakably that of a baby or small child. It originated in a cabin, the roof of which was just starting to kindle with flames. Still nobody else was about. The donkey, however, spotted Nigel and stared intently at him, its ears pointing in his direction accusingly. ‘Oh hell!’ thought Nigel. ‘This is becoming like a bad TV movie…or Spiderman!’ He limped out from the undergrowth, and headed towards the source of the childish shrieks. Casting aside the meddlesome crutch and covering his mouth and nose with his arm, he plunged into the smoke-filled room. A dark-mopped little girl was huddled in a corner, squealing morosely. Nigel tried to coax her out with his best Latin, but realised it was no good. She obviously only understood another dialect, and he had no time to dredge one up from his memory, even if he knew it at all. Besides, she was too scared to move. He scooped her up in his arms, and ran back out into the street, necessarily taking in a large lungful of smoke and jamming his ankle in the process. Things did not improve thereafter, as he ran smack into a posse of Roman soldiers, who had, unseen to Nigel, rounded the corner as he ran into the smouldering house. Nigel deposited the girl on her feet - she promptly ran off, still wailing - and then crumpled to his knees, so consumed with violent coughing that he could do nothing as the soldiers surrounded him. They were dressed rather differently to the others he had seen, in smart red tunics, with elaborate armour. One of them held a standard with the Imperial eagle. They looked down at him dubiously. Nigel’s trepidation grew as the coughs subsided, and he managed to wheeze: ‘please, make it quick.’ However, a firm but not aggressive hand was laid upon his shoulder. Nigel glanced up, half expecting to see Derek. His disappointment, when he saw that it wasn’t his friend, was countered by the thought that to be rescued by him again, especially when in such a state, would have erred towards an embarrassing habit. Instead, the hand belonged to a legionnaire, rather older than the others, who regarded Nigel benevolently. His breastplate and helmet were richly decorated with carvings of eagles and lions, and his cloak was embroidered with gold thread. All of this indicated to Nigel that he was a General. ‘That was a very brave thing you just did, my son.’ ‘Blame the donkey,’ stuttered Nigel, gathering his breath and not feeling very courageous. ‘It made me do it!’ As Nigel choked again, the foot soldiers exchanged amused glances, wondering if they’d stumbled across the village idiot. The lead soldier took hold of the ‘hero of the moment’ by the crook of his arm and raised him to his feet, taking note of Nigel’s apparently sickly state. ‘Did Agroitus and his men do all this damage? To the village? To you?’ Nigel nodded, not keen, or indeed possessing enough puff, to go into details. Nigel’s new found friend turned to his men. ‘The consul must be removed! This used to be a prosperous area in which the peasants were contented. His plundering the countryside and the people is doing nothing for the glory of Rome! Caesar will not tolerate a costly rebellion…’ Nigel peered up at the man curiously. ‘You're going to depose Agroitus Poccolus? Who are you?’ The commander puffed his chest out with pride ‘My name is Valerius Pollio, commander of the tenth legion of Appollonius. Poccolus used his unworldly powers to destroy my name and ruin my career when I dared to challenge his despotism and unnatural powers in the senate. He caused the enslavement of me and my family. While I purchased back my own freedom, he still possesses my only daughter, Lydia.’ ‘Oh,’ said Nigel, recalling the pretty, caramel-haired slave-girl who had helped them at Agroitus’s villa. ‘I think I might have met her…’ The general’s face lit up and he replaced both his hands on Nigel’s shoulders, keen for information: ‘You have? Was she well?’ ‘Yes…I think so. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a bit of rescuing though!’ ‘I have risen to military power partially to accomplish that! I brought my legions through here a day early, on the start of our march north, in order to assess whether to strike now or wait until our glorious return. For now, I fear we must wait. The power of the consul is too great and the people, even the citizens of Nevium, are too scared to rise against him. If I had a figurehead to rally the people behind it would be different. But who?’ Nigel raised his chin, pushed back his shoulders and announced with pride: ‘I think I know of just such a person!’ The soldiers stared at him, and one whispered to his companion: ‘He’s definitely the village idiot!’ Nigel glared at his denigrator, but nevertheless instructed their leader: ‘follow me!’ ……………….. ‘Master! Master! Success!’ As his henchman ran jubilantly through the door, Agroitus leapt to his feet in anticipation, sending the unfortunate serving girl who had been attending to his needs sprawling onto the X-rated mosaic on the floor. ‘You’ve got her? You've got the 'warrior princess'?' ‘No… but we've got the one they call 'Maximus'!’ ‘Oh,’ said Agroitus, disappointedly, sinking back upon his couch, and beckoning the quivering wench. ‘How dull! Is he dead?’ ‘No. Quite alive. He nearly did for several of my men, though! And the villagers positively cheered him on. ’ ‘Oh,’ repeated Agroitus, disinterested. ‘Well you’d better lock him up while I consider which oyster spoon to use for his demise. I don't suppose he’ll lure the ‘warrior princess’ to us. She tired of her last piece of totty soon enough!’ He leered mournfully as the unwilling serving girl began to massage his shoulders ‘Whatever became of that fat-faced old man who promised he could deliver them to us? Has he come back yet or should I send someone out to hunt him down as well?’ ‘We found him skulking out of the forest, heading for the hills. Would you like to speak to him or should he be disposed of?’ ‘I suppose he may be of more use. Keep him alive for now. Anything else to report?’ ‘Just rumours, sire. The legions bound for Brittania have been sighted in the area already. They say they are under the command of the new hero of the recent Egyptian campaign, Valerius Pollio!’ Agroitus nearly jumped from his seat again but contained himself, even as the servant girl felt his shoulders clench with extreme tension. ‘You must say nothing of this in my household, you understand!’ he shouted at the surprised henchman. Tugging roughly a lock of the girl’s hair, he admonished her equally: ‘And that goes for you, slave! Not a word to the other girls…or else!’ …………….. When Nigel and his party reached the middle of the village, Sydney was nowhere to be seen. The villagers were running to and fro in panic, pursued by Agroitus’ raiders with spears and burning torches. ‘Where are you, Syd?’ muttered Nigel anxiously. He was unsure whether he had done the right thing in allying himself with the general. Besides, if the ‘warrior princess’ he had promised was not forthcoming, they really would think he was a fool. Then his vision of loveliness emerged from a burning hut, a wailing infant under either arm. Choking delicately at the effects of the smoke, Sydney gracefully deposited her charges with their fretful parent. She then spun into a devastating high kick, which contacted with the chin of a sneaking soldier, who had seen the mother as an easy picking, and sending him flying. ‘Who is she?’ asked Valerius in awe. ‘My wife!’ announced Nigel proudly, as the jaws of the soldiers around him dropped. Sydney, who hadn't yet seen the new arrivals, had sprung into battle with another group of aggressors. They surrounded her with vicious intent, and she was kicking and punching them off. Nigel suddenly realised that she didn't even have a sword to defend herself with. She must have thrown it down when she rescued the children. ‘Aren’t you going to help her?’ pleaded Nigel. His new friends were all still gawping at Sydney, obviously enjoying the sight of a beautiful woman in combat, but not yet involved enough to actually want to help her. ‘Sod you!’ muttered Nigel. ‘Do I have to do everything myself?’ Sydney’s assailants were now closing in, swiping at her with their beacons of fire. Without a weapon, she could maintain no distance between them. She desperately dodged and dived the scorching truncheons, as the fur on her outfit singed. Nigel looked about for something to help her, but saw nothing obvious. Then a thought struck him. ‘Syd! Here!’ Sydney registered Nigel’s presence, and caught the crutch he lobbed in her direction, almost simultaneously. ‘Thanks, Nigel!’ They shared a grin as she swung her new weapon, felling the encircling soldiers as it whacked each on the shins. They blundered about on the floor, avoiding the bite of their own flaming torches. Syd looked down on them with breathless disdain: ‘What did I tell you guys about playing with fire? It always trips you up somehow!’ Impressed finally, Nigel’s tardy companions dashed to her aid. …………….. ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Sydney. There was a strained smile on her face that would have told those who knew her that she wasn't pleased. ‘You want me to rally the people for an attack on the city of Nevium and help you depose the consul?’ Sydney had barely cooled down from the heat of battle before this proposition was put to her by Valerius. ‘Your husband suggested you would be just the person!’ Nigel, who was sat leaning against one of the non-burnt huts a little way off, winced sheepishly at the force of Sydney's displeased glare. ‘Oh, he did, did he?’ she retorted. ‘Would you mind if I had a word with my husband in private?’ She stormed over to her assistant and erstwhile lover. ‘What the hell have you been getting me into?’ Nigel was little abashed. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time, Sydney. After all, if we need to get back into Nevium, get to the tower, and rescue Derek - if he needs rescuing -, it can't help to have an army on our side, can it?’ ‘Yes, but is it an army we want to be associated with? How do we know that this guy is any better than Agroitus? You heard all that ‘glory of Rome’ trash. We could be chopping off one gorgon's head and allowing another just as evil to grow in its place!’ Nigel shrugged and languidly pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘He can’t be any worse, can he? He at least shows some sort of concern for the locals, even if it is just to keep the Empire prosperous and peaceful. And he does want to rescue Lydia…that’s better than the lustful whims of Agroitus, isn’t it?’ A wavering of Syd’s steely expression indicated her partial agreement. ‘But it’s up to you, Syd,’ continued Nigel. ‘I don’t want you to do it if you think it’s too dangerous. The last thing I need is for you to get hurt. I just wanted things to be as easy as possible…for a change. I’m just so bloody tired of everything!’ Nigel really did look shattered and Syd’s anger with him faded quickly. She knelt down and wiped a smudge of soot from his face, while he brushed down the now-singed fur that edged her outfit. ‘How did you manage to get so grimy, Nigel? I thought you’d stay away from the fires?’ Nigel gave an ironic laugh. ‘There were screaming kiddies to be rescued on the other side of town as well, you know.’ ‘Really? You're getting to be a bit of a hero, aren't you? I thought I told you to hide in the bushes?’ ‘Believe me, Syd, I'd much rather have stayed there… this has hardly been the most peaceful week of my quiet little teaching job.’ He added wryly: ‘and that’s saying something! Most weeks have been rather lively, haven’t they?’ ‘You know, Nigel, I guess they have. But, hey, look on the bright side. There must be a truly great journal paper in all of this! History has usually been written by the kings and the generals. Now we really have seen it from the other side…’ ‘I guess so,’ said Nigel, still tired and lamenting. ‘What don’t I now know about the more unpleasant aspects of culture in the Ancient World!’ Sydney lent back against the hut beside him, and was happily surprised as Nigel snuck his arm around her waist. She felt the warmth of his nervously wriggling fingers as they found their rest against the coolness of her skin, which was exposed around her back where the loosely stitched furs did not reach. Her own arm slipped around him, and they shuffled closer together. They shared a look: this was nice…but it still felt slightly odd. Nigel asked: ‘So, what do we do now?’ Sydney narrowed her eyes, wondering whether he was talking about ‘us’ or ‘the plan’: ‘I don't know, Nigel,’ she replied ambiguously. ‘But my gut is telling me we should go with the flow… maybe at long last the tides turned in our direction.’ Nigel agreed, assuming the reply was about their Roman soldier predicament, rather than their romantic entanglement. ‘So maybe we should stick with Valerius for now,’ continued Syd, picking up on his assumption. ‘But it’s going to be on my terms. I’ll want to lay down a few ground rules, make a few conditions…’ ‘Me too!’ Sydney looked at Nigel quizzically as he explained emphatically ‘I’m sick to death of looking like the next virgin sacrifice. For God’s sake, I’m a grown man! I really want some new clothes!’ ……………… Nigel emerged from the hut with a delighted smile on his face. He was kitted out in a red legionnaire’s tunic and a smart leather belt with leather straps hanging down. ‘What do you think, Syd? Does it suit me? He limped in a circle, displaying his new costume from every possible angle. ‘The breastplate was a bit heavy…but I’ll put it on in a minute.’ ‘Nigel, you look great!’ gushed Sydney. ‘Not many guys could look so cute in a leather miniskirt!’ Nigel smile vanished and he frowned reproachfully. ‘It’s not a bloody miniskirt. It’s the outfit of a genuine, mean fighting machine! You really know how to deflate a guy when he's trying to restore his wounded masculinity, don’t you!’ Nigel stopped complaining, despite maintaining a sulky countenance, when Sydney gathered him into an embrace. ‘Don't scowl, Nigel. You look every inch my knight in shining armour!’ Syd kindly overlooked the fact he hadn’t actually put on any armour yet. This time, Nigel beamed, radiating boyish charm. ‘Thanks, Syd. As ever, you look stunning: my beautiful warrior princess!’ Nigel pulled her into a pervasive kiss, tender and passionate, which lingered as they melted into each others clasp. Eventually, however, Sydney lips brushed away from his and she gazed lovingly into his eyes as he yearned for more. ‘That was amazing’, she thought, ‘he’s adorable and when he kisses me the world does a backflip…but I just can’t help what I’m about to say!’ She flattered her eyelashes and smiled coyly. ‘So, Nigel. Will my brave, chivalrous Knight be leading the charge into Nevium this afternoon, in order to woo the heart of his maiden fair?’ Nigel stared at her aghast. She was joking, right? ‘Umm, I’d love to, Syd,’ he stammered, ‘but, err, you know…ladies first!’ …………………… Few people were kept in Agroitus’ prison. Justice under the consul of Nevium was fast, brutal and generally fatal. At this time, however, the dungeon was unusually full. Two inmates stared daggers at each other from opposite cells, which, despite their rare occupation, matched each other in their stench and filth. ‘If you’ve betrayed them, Bluthus,’ said Derek matter-of-factly, ‘or if you’ve got any intention of doing so, these iron bars aren’t going to be enough to stop me from breaking right through and snapping your flabby, worthless neck!’ Bluthus merely mumbled ‘hhhhmmmm’ and muttered something about ‘uncivilised Americans.’ The deadlock of threats and rumbling was broken after a while by the arrival of Agroitus himself. The consul strode into the prison alone, dismissed the guard and then hurried straight over to Bluthus. ‘Where are they then?’ Derek hadn’t a clue what Agroitus said, but guessed well enough that Bluthus was collaborating. ‘I knew it, you lousy sonofabitch,’ he yelled and rattled the bars in vain. ‘I couldn’t find her!’ stuttered Bluthus, ‘honestly, consul. But she will be at the Tour Magne tomorrow afternoon, I promise you…’ ‘Will she? And what about the powerful Egyptian relic you promised me? And the missing piece of Hapshepsut’s Eye? Will they be there too?’ He leaned in close to the bars. ‘I confess, old man, I have a need for their power now more than ever before. If you are true to your word and help me, I may make you a citizen.’ Agroitus stepped away. ‘But, if you fail, my friend. You will, of course, die in an excruciatingly painful manner, just like the ‘grunting goon’ here!’ Bluthus quivered, his conscience and nerves in a quandary. ‘I won’t fail you, master!’ he murmered timorously. ‘Tomorrow afternoon, then, comrade,’ replied Agroitus. He swept from the jail, his every thought bent on destroying his enemies and the myth of the ‘warrior princess’ forever.
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