Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

I tried to console him, but it was all I could do to stay in the saddle. Besides, after my recent and most notable lapse in perception, I didn’t feel qualified to give anybody advice on women. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with my own wife, and then I run straight into a shovel.

I looked behind me. The donkey and I were just keeping our heads down. All three of them. She was tied to the back of Nimbus and stumbled every now and then. At least we both had someone to catch us if we fell.

It was about three hours before dawn when we finally reached the villa. Lineus himself was manning the door duties. My wife’s idea, probably.

I told him to make sure the stable slaves gave the horses plenty of feed, but go easy on the donkey and build her up slowly. She needed a bath, and medicine for the welts on her back and neck. I’d mix up an unguent for her as soon as I could think again.

“Of course, sir. Right away, sir.”

Lineus acted as though the governor’s guests habitually brought half-dead pack animals to stay at the villa.

I made my way into the house. Gwyna was curled up on a couch in the dining room. There was at least one benefit to my aching head. I could see two of her. She woke up as soon as I weaved gracefully into the room, knocking over one of the chairs in the process.

“My God, Ardur-you look like hell! What happened? Are you all right?”

She was up in one fluid movement, her hand on my arm, gently pulling me to the couch. I grinned on one side of my face.

“You should see the other guy.”

“But-but I sent-”

The sound of large, shy feet shuffling in the back by the hallway wafted into the room.

“Draco-come in here. Gwyna wants to thank you.”

I sat down on the couch. Rest. Rest was what I needed. My bodyguard was still hovering at a distance, in the rear of the triclinium.

“He found me, as you can see. Saved me, too. I would’ve gotten more than merely acquainted with a shovel.” I winced. The heat in the room was making my sore muscles relax, which was making my head pulse in rhythm.

Gwyna stared at me, her eyes large and worried. “Ardur-will you-are you really all right? Should I call for Philo?”

I opened an eye and looked at her. “Philo? I don’t need goddamn-goddamn it!”

I lay back on the couch, panting. I shouldn’t have clenched my jaw.

“No. No Philo. Please. Just-just get me a little willow bark. There’s some in my kit. And some valerian. I brought it for you-to help you sleep.”

Gwyna looked me over again, debating something in her mind. She stood up and started minutely examining my scalp.

“There’s nothing fractured. I’ve got a concussion and a large bump. Think of it as an unwanted guest. It’ll go away soon enough.”

She bit her lip and stared at my skull as if she could see through it. Finally, she nodded. “All right. But if you’re just putting on a face so I don’t call for Philo-”

“If I could put on a face would I choose this one?”

She threw me one last “or else” look, then finally noticed Draco. She handed him a smile. “Thank you, Draco. I can’t say it enough. Make yourself at home.”

She hurried out of the room, and we both watched her go.

“Why don’t you go to bed? You probably haven’t been off a horse for two days.”

“Will it-will it be all right?”

“Of course. You heard Gwyna. You’re at home.”

A smile cracked his long face. Lineus appeared behind him and cleared his throat. He timed his appearances like a striptease artist.

“Shall I show the gentleman to his room?”

Draco turned around, looking for the gentleman. I tried to nod and thought better of it.

“Please. Good night, Draco.”

Lineus put a guiding hand on Draco’s elbow and escorted him to one of the bedrooms. I leaned my head back slightly and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Gwyna’s hand was on my cheek, and she was washing my face with a soft, wet, warm cloth. My medical kit was on the table. I was beginning to get sleepy, even with the pain and other, more pleasant distractions.

“Thanks for sending Draco. You could’ve told me he was here, you know.”

The ablutions stopped. “Ardur, you wouldn’t have taken Draco, and you know it.”

I grumbled. “How do you know?”

She started washing me again. “Because I know you. You hate to admit weakness, particularly when you’re feeling threatened. I asked Draco to follow you, just in case.”

She was remarkably self-disciplined. There was no sense of triumph in her voice.

“You should be pleased with yourself.”

She braced herself on my chest with her arms and leaned back to look at me. “Why would I be pleased because my husband got hurt? Why would I be pleased because what I was afraid of came true? What kind of wife do you think I am?”

Her lips were trembling. I’d gotten her angry and hurt her feelings. I was a monster.

“The best. What I should say is thank you. You saved my life.”

She looked at me for a long moment, then bent closer, her lips brushing mine. “Ardur-you are my life.”

I was starting to throb in different places. “You’d better finish what you’re doing and get me to sleep. I’m-I’m sorry, Gwyna. Sorry for everything. I’m a stubborn ass.”

I laughed, then yelped with pain. She stopped again.

“What is it?”

“That just reminded me-I brought home a donkey. One of those thieving bastards was mistreating it.”

She placed a hand against my cheek. “Poor thing.”

“Me or the donkey?”

“Both of you. Can you tell me what happened? Or do you want to take your valerian and willow now?”

“I’ll wait. I think I can sleep. As long as you’re next to me.”

She folded herself up in my arms and kept me warm. The pain was subsiding. Her voice, slightly muffled by my dirty tunic, said: “Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?”

“There’s a fully functioning silver mine that’s disguised as an abandoned lead mine. That’s the short version. The long version will wait. Like what Grattius knows about this consortium and who the owners are.” I yawned. “I’ll impress you with tales of my fighting prowess in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”

We walked arm in arm to the bedroom. Gwyna helped me undress. Lineus brought me extra pillows so I could elevate my head. I was as comfortable as a man with a massive concussion could be, and dreamed about Gwyna in a bathing pool.

“Ardur-Ardur!”

“Wait-wait-yes-yes-I’m-”

“Ardur!”

My eyes opened, and it was Gwyna, but she wasn’t in a see-through bathing garment and we weren’t waist deep in the tepidarium.

“What-what is it?”

Her face was pale and worried. “Ardur-it’s Lineus.”

I raised myself up on an elbow and squinted at her.

“You woke up a man from a concussion-who was having a very nice dream, by the way-because of Lineus? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him, but he was getting the household up this morning at dawn, and-and-”

“And what? What the hell is it?”

Her blue eyes roamed all over my face, looking for comfort I didn’t know how to give her. “He went outside to check the slaves in the stable, and-and he found something. On our doorstep.”

It wasn’t just my head that was hurting. Gwyna’s face was stretched and taut, and she clutched at my hand.

“It’s Faro. And he’s dead.”

The words echoed, pounding on my skull from the inside. I climbed out of bed. There was only one of Gwyna this morning, and that one was scared.

I said: “I didn’t hurt him, Gwyna. Not enough for this.”