Jack Whyte: The Skystone

In spite of my early start, it was long after mid-morning by the time I arrived at the place where I had arranged to meet Tertius Pella. He was there, waiting patiently with one of his men, concealed within the trees that grew right to the edge of the road. We exchanged brief greetings and he led me away from the road and into the forest, along a track rutted by the wheels of farm carts. Only when we were well concealed from the sight of anyone passing on the road did we rein in to talk.

"How is our prisoner?" I asked.

"Safe and unharmed, I am sorry to say, save for a few bruises and chills."

"Did you have any trouble?"

"A little, not much. One of our men was slightly wounded, no more than a deep scratch. He'll be fine in a week. "

"What about the others?"

. "What others? Ours or theirs?"

"Theirs, of course. "

He grinned at me. "Three of them died. We left the five survivors trussed and gagged. If anyone passes by the townhouse, they will be found and rescued. "

I did not like to think of the alternative. "And Seneca, how long have you had him?" I asked.

"Six days. He would probably say six long days. We've managed to make them highly unpleasant for him. You wanted him confused, disoriented and afraid. He is totally as you wished on all three counts. "

"Good. How far from here is he?"

"Two miles, " he said, pointing. "One mile straight in and another mile along a deer track to the little clearing. "

I pulled a package from my tunic. "You've done well, Tertius. Your men will be well rewarded. Now we have to think about timing. " I turned to his companion and held the package out to him. ""Take this to the commander of the guardhouse at the garrison in Aquae Sulis. Tell him you were given a silver piece to deliver this to him. Here it is. " I flipped him a silver coin, which he dropped into the scrip that hung from his side. "The message tells him that the missing Procurator, Claudius Seneca, may be found in this place. There is a map to guide them, too. As soon as you have delivered the package, make your way back to the Colony, but make sure no one knows where you are going and be sure that you are not followed. Is that clear?" He nodded. "Good. It should take you an hour, perhaps longer, to reach the garrison, " I continued. "It will take them half that long again to organize a search party, and then another hour to make their way here using the map I drew for them. From this point, they should be able to find their own way to the clearing. In the meantime, Tertius, you and I have to finish our job and then be gone from here by the time they arrive, which should be before mid-afternoon, so let's get on with it. "

Tertius swung his horse back onto the path and I followed close behind him, leaning low along my horse's neck to avoid the lower branches of the trees that hemmed us in.

We left our mounts some distance from the clearing and walked in, and I stopped on the edge of the camp they had set up. It consisted of two leather legion tents, a trestle table with a folding chair and a fire-pit. The fire was burning brightly, giving off flames that were almost invisible in the clear air. I could hear the sound of running water from a stream somewhere off to my right.

Beyond the tents, a massive old oak tree dominated the clearing and dwarfed the two men beneath it. One of these, the guard, whose name was Randall, was dozing against the trunk of the tree. The other, Seneca, stood naked by a thick stake that had been hammered into the ground. He was blindfolded and shackled at the ankles, and the chain of his shackles was threaded through the lower of two large iron rings fastened to the stake. His wrists were manacled in front of him and a taut rope, threaded through the upper ring, held his arms stretched downward. Above this ring, not passing through it, a second rope was tied to the first and looped upwards over a thick branch above the prisoner's head. By loosening the one rope and pulling on the other, Seneca's guard could dictate the position of his bound wrists.

I stared at Seneca for a long time, filled with revulsion, savouring the moment and the promised vengeance I would take for Phoebe. He looked terrible. His hair was matted and unkempt and his cheeks were heavy with sprouting, dirty-blond beard. As I looked at him he slumped and then pulled himself erect again, straightening up as far as the taut rope through the ring would allow him to. He could not stand completely erect, and so his back was bent. The guard was under instructions to yank him to his feet if he tried to lie down. As I looked at him, I was conscious that the sight of anyone else in that condition would have moved me to pity and to anger at his captors, but I had Phoebe's sweet face in my mind and was able to stifle any feelings of compassion that might have stirred in my breast. I motioned to Pella to lean close to me and I whispered in his ear,

"Has anyone spoken to him?"

He shook his head and whispered back, "Not a word since we took him six days ago. "

I nodded and waved him forward, and he walked into the clearing, heading towards the table in front of the tents. Seneca's head came up quickly at the swishing sounds Pella's feet made in the long grass, but he made no sound. His guard heard it, too, and straightened up slowly, nodding to me in recognition. I held my fingers to my lips, reminding him to stay silent.

In the meantime, Pella had bent down and released the tension on the rope that held the prisoner's arms stretched downward. Seneca felt the release immediately, but before he could react to it, his arms were already being dragged above his head as Pella hauled on the other rope. A moment later, Seneca hung by his wrists, high enough that he had to bear his weight on his toes. He howled like an animal but Pella ignored him, concentrating on tightening the knot that held the tension on the rope. When he was satisfied that it would hold Seneca correctly in position, he crossed to the table and picked up something that lay there. This was the worst part. I resisted the urge to interfere at the last moment and forced myself to stand immobile as Pella went up to the prisoner and laid the metal-tipped lashes of the scourge he held gently across Seneca's shoulders, allowing them to slip down and off under their own weight. Seneca moaned as he recognized the feel of the lashes, and opened his mouth to scream. As he did so, Pella stuffed his mouth with a filthy rag. I closed my eyes against what was to happen next, but made myself open them again immediately. This next step was necessary, as an earnest of what was to come.

As Pella stepped back and swung the lash up and around, Seneca drew his finely muscled body into a bow shape in a vain attempt to avoid it. He was even bigger, stronger than I remembered. The scourge swished through the air and exploded into his writhing torso, and he screamed, in spite of the gag in his mouth. I turned aside and vomited into the grass, shuddering, unable to believe that I had planned this in cold blood, or that I was permitting it to happen. When I straightened up again, wiping the saliva from my chin with my sleeve, Seneca hung unconscious, blood trickling from a score of welts around his whole upper body. I swallowed hard.

"Take that thing out of his mouth and remove the blindfold. " As Pella moved to do so, I crossed to the table and sat in the chair, so that Seneca would be looking at me when he regained consciousness. I picked up the scroll that lay on the table and unrolled it.

"Did you find his seal?"

"Aye, he had it around his neck on a gold chain. Here!" Pella tossed Seneca's seal to me and I laid it beside the scroll and the stick of wax. There was nothing more to prepare.

"Throw some water on him. "

Seneca struggled back to consciousness, fighting against the shocking coldness of the water that hit him and the brightness of the sun that wounded his eyes after six days of tightly bound darkness. I watched him become aware of my presence and fight to gain control of himself, then saw him fight again, in vain this time, to bring his eyes to focus on me. For long moments neither of us spoke, and then I broke the silence.