Arnos lifted his chin, staring down at Tavi. "It gives me no pleasure to do this, Rufus Scipio. But I place you under arrest for refusing to follow a direct order of your superior officer in time of war. You will be taken to the nearest stockade and held there until such time as a military tribunal can be assembled for your trial."
Tavi just stared at Arnos, shocked by what he was hearing, cursing himself for being careless. He'd warned Max that Arnos would have had watchers in place by that evening. He should have been smart enough to realize that Arnos already had him under surveillance-probably by several of his Knights Aeris, hidden behind crafted veils.
He'd taken a chance and gotten burned.
He'd failed.
"Navaris," Arnos said. "Take the prisoner into custody." An unmistakable glitter of malice danced across his eyes. "Find someplace to lock him away until we can find time to try him for treason."
Chapter 16
Valiar Marcus glared at the young mother who had approached them from the group of prisoners. She had spotted his distinctive centurion's helmet with its scarlet crest, or the baton he carried in his hand as a symbol of his rank, and she walked over to him, trailing a young legionare. The plainly dressed woman had evidently overwhelmed the young man via sheer force of personality, and he gave Marcus a half-shamed, half-pleading look as he hurried to keep up with her.
"Centurion," she said. She made part of a curtsey, likely the best she could do while carrying her young daughter on one hip. The child was silent, her blue eyes very wide. "No one will speak to us. No one will tell us when we may return to our homes."
Marcus kept the glare going for a few moments, but it was a forlorn hope. The young mother was not going to be dissuaded. "Ma'am," Marcus said, "I'm going to have to ask you to return to your place with the other prisoners."
"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," she said quietly.
"Yes, ma'am, you are," Marcus said. "It's safest for you there."
The woman clenched her jaw in frustration. "I don't understand what else you need from us, centurion. None of us are armed or bore arms against the Legions. None of us know anything that you didn't find out hours ago. There's no reason for us to be sitting here, even if that nice young man is being so painstaking in asking about our Citizenship..."
Her voice trailed off, and her face set in a pensive frown-then in a sudden, sick mask of fear.
Marcus felt his knuckles tightening on the baton in frustration, and only a whisper of cracking wood let him realize that he had inadvertently summoned fury-born strength to his limbs. He'd seen that look on other women, in other places, and he hated it. "Ma'am," Marcus said quietly. He pointed at the prisoners with his baton. "Go sit down. Now."
She stared blankly at him for a moment. Then she took a swift breath, and said, "My name is Estellis." Her arms tightened on her child. "This is my daughter, Estara."
Marcus turned his face away sharply at the words. Crows take it. He didn't want to know the woman, or her name-or, great furies help him, the name of her child. Their death warrant had already been signed. And it was his fault it had been. Their blood was going to be on his hands-perhaps literally. He did not want to know their names.
Some part of him could feel nothing but contempt for his own dismay. It had been his suggestion, after all, that the Senator order the captain to kill another Aleran. He had assumed that Arnos would seize upon the opportunity to do so as soon as prisoners were taken from the Legion of rebel slaves. He had assumed that the order would descend upon, at most, one- or twoscore of enemy soldiers. It would have been a point of principle that he did not think the captain would have been willing to compromise.
Marcus forced himself to turn his face back to Estellis and her daughter Estara, and to look past them at the hundreds of freemen of Othos. Dozens of families. Women. Children. Elderly. How could Arnos have considered such a monstrous course?
Because you told him to do it, fool.
The young woman... Estellis stared at him, her face pale. She did not allow herself to weep-doubtless for the sake of her daughter, who clung sleepily to her side-but her eyes shone with the effort. "S-sir..." she said quietly. "The children are hungry."
Crows take Arnos, Marcus thought viciously. Crows take him and eat him whole.
There was still some hope. Antillus Crassus was taking his time about verifying each prisoner's lack of Citizenship. Marcus might not have noticed it if he hadn't been working with the young man for the past two years, but it smelled like the young Tribune was stalling.
Crassus wouldn't be doing that on his own initiative. He was dutiful nearly to the point of insanity, and always worked with quiet, industrious efficiency.
So, unless he had suddenly decided to start dragging his feet, he was still attending to his duty.
So. The captain was up to something.
Marcus did not know what he intended. Legally speaking, he had only two options-but the young man had a talent for discovering previously unnoticed avenues of action. Perhaps he could do it again.
Please let him do it again.
Marcus was already steeped in blood. Much more, and he would drown.
He kept his expression colder and harder than stone. If the prisoners went into a panic, great furies only knew what might happen. "Ma'am," he said. He began to repeat his order, but instead he found himself meeting the gaze of little Estara. His breath left him in a long, slow exhalation. "Estellis," he said quietly. "I assure you that my captain is doing everything he can to get you back to your homes as soon as possible. But until that time, you are on the front lines of a war, around men who have seen hard battle today. For your own safety, you need to return to the others." He considered the little girl again, and said, "I'll see what can be done about food."
The young woman stared at him, straining, Marcus knew, to discern if he was telling her the truth, or simply lying to her and sending her back to await slaughter, like some foolishly wayward cow. She needn't have bothered. Even if she'd had an enormous amount of talent and practice at the watercrafter's art of truthfinding, he could have told her that the sky was green with perfect conviction.
"I... very well, centurion." She dipped into another awkward curtsey. "Thank you."
"Legionare," Marcus growled.
The young legionare came to attention. "Sir."
"Please escort Mistress Estellis and her daughter back to the others." He nodded to her. "Ma'am."