Midnight had come and gone as dark clouds blocked the moonlight. Little dots of fire flickered across the snow covered landscape, indicating where the scattered Helvetian homes and farmsteads lay. Among them stood the rickety wooden barn occupied by Gaius and his men.
Inside, only a small fire pit and a candle lit the open space, casting deep shadows throughout the room. The smell of horse dung had finally disappeared, replaced by leather and wood smoke. The snores of eleven soldiers and another dozen slaves echoed from the loft above. Only Tacita and Gaius remained awake, her tending to the fire as he sat at the wooden table, trying to focus on the parchment in front of him as he tallied the cost of this far-fetched mission.
He sighed at the amounts of coin Titus had promised for the spy and assassin so far, adding up to a ridiculously high number. Feeling the weight of the chest under the table, or rather its lack of weight, he knew the remaining money wouldn’t last beyond the start of spring. If the senate doesn’t send us more funding, then the tribes won’t bother sending envoys. It’ll be open season on Romans throughout the region!
Gaius tried to reassure himself that wouldn’t happen. Titus would make sure of it. Whatever connection he had to the senate, it was strong enough to make him a Tribune. More money should be a minor thing compared to the title and authority of a tribune.
Mulling over the issue, he failed to notice Tacita walking up to him until she’d already tried to tell him something
“…is here.”
“What? Who’s here?”
“The boy, the one that worked with the assassin who killed the Rauricii chieftain.”
Another report. This couldn’t have waited till morning? He stood up, pulled on his sword belt with slow and tired movements, and strolled towards the fire pit in the center of the room. Tacita followed close behind, rubbing the holes in her hands like a nervous habit.
The boy sat on one of the logs they’d set up as seats around the pit. He looked barely older than ten, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily, as if he’d just finished running a great distance. I don’t remember hiring any assassins this young. “Who are you? What’s your business with me?”
“Igus. I was here two weeks ago-” he gasped again, “-with my master. You sent us back to Rauricii, then-”
“-then Tulingii. Yes, I remember now. Brennus was supposed to take you and your master into Tulingii unnoticed, so he could begin working on their leaders.” Gaius took a seat on a log nearby and cringed at the thick smell of sweat coming from the boy. “So, where’s your master? I made the deal with him, not you.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“He made it inside!” the boy blurted, his hands shaking. “Chief Brennus hid us among his servants as we entered the town.”
Gaius took a moment to absorb what the boy was saying, a small wave of relief flowing through him. Perfect! A few Elders, maybe a lesser chieftain or two, then it will only be a matter of time until-
“My master sent me back to tell you, he plans to kill King Aldric of Tulingii the day after Yuletide ends!”
Gaius froze, a sinking feeling in his gut as he realized what the boy was saying. Their king?! “No!”
He stood and spun towards the map hanging on the wall. Even at a glance, he knew a messenger would never make it all the way back to Tulingii in time to stop him. How could he be that stupid? Gaius had explained time and again to the hired knives not to get ambitious. Assassins dying or failing was normal enough, but kings had bodyguards. So even if he succeeded in killing the king, the bodyguards would capture him for sure. How much does he know? What will he tell them in order to save himself? If they find out Rome is involved-
“Wait, wasn’t he one of the tongue-less ones?”
The boy nodded, and Gaius felt the tension ease from him. Thank the gods, at least it won’t be a complete disaster.
“But there’s something else you should know. My master won’t fail.”
Gaius turned his glare back on the boy, his patience nearly spent. “How could you possibly promise that? You’re not even there?” As an afterthought, he drew his sword, pointing it at the boy’s throat. “How do I know your master is even upholding his end of the bargain?”
The boy had his hands up, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. “Not yet. The king is not dead, but he will be. He can’t escape it.”
“Explain!”
“My master always u-uses poison on his b-blades” He stuttered, his eyes straight down at the tip of Gaius’s sword. “Just a s-scratch, then the wounds won’t heal. After a f-few weeks the black blood takes them.”
Black blood? Gaius’s sword arm drifted back down as remained deep in thought. He’d seen black blood several times over the years, a sure sign that a festering wound would turn fatal. The subtle crackling of the fire seemed to be the loudest sound in the room as a smile grew on the centurion’s face.
Gaius suppressed a chuckle as he tried to maintain his composer in front of the outsider, his earlier exhaustion now gone. That’s perfect! Just one scratch from the assassin. Then, instead of fighting them, all we’ll have to do is give them just the right push! With a little luck, they’ll destroy their own allies trying to figure out who the traitor is! All we need is to get closer.
“Here boy.” Gaius tossed him a coin pouch, then turned back to the map and made a rough estimate of how long it would be until Brennus arrived back in Rauricii. …five days normally, an extra two days because of the snow… if we leave now, we should arrive at Rauricii just as Brennus is returning.
From the lofts above, slaves and soldiers stirred from their sleep, no doubt wondering what the commotion was about. Gaius glanced at their tired faces, calculating how soon their gear could be packed and ready to move. And now that the Rauricii Chieftain had proven his loyalty, it’s only natural I meet with him.
“Men, pack your bags. At sunrise, we march to Rauricii!”