Page 86 of Taming the Eagle

JUSTIN DUG HIS shovel into the damp earth, blinking as sweat ran into his eyes.

Around him, the air vibrated with the clang of iron against stone and wood, the thud of earth being turned, and the dull roar of men’s voices, rising and falling in the damp air.

Although he’d been at Vindolanda nearly a month now, Justin was yet to get used to the noise here. Engineers, masons, carpenters, turf cutters, and laborers had descended upon Vindolanda, working tirelessly from dawn until dusk.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, Justin resumed his toil. He stood at the bottom of a deep trench, shoulder-to-shoulder with his men. It was back-breaking work, yet he welcomed it—and welcomed the mind-fogging exhaustion that would follow.

“Commander!” Justin glanced up to see Tribune Lucius standing above him. The man was scowling. “Jupiter’s balls, what are you doing down there?”

“Working,” Justin bit out, turning from him. His shovel bit hard into the earth, and he silently prayed the tribune would move on and let him be.

However, the gods weren’t listening to him this morning.

“Get out of there, Aquila,” Sebastian Lucius ordered brusquely. “Now.”

Justin halted once more, his jaw clenching. Of course, the shit-weasel could order him about these days. Justin had been demoted. He no longer led the Twentieth legion. Instead, he was commander of Vindolanda fort.

Tribune Lucius was now his superior.

Climbing the rickety ladder out of the deep ditch, Justin took a drying cloth from one of his men and wiped the sweat and mud from his face, neck, and arms. As he did so, his gaze swept behind him, at where Hadrian’s glory was steadily taking shape.

Vindolanda was one of the many forts and milecastles stretched out along the length of the Wall. Hadrian had ordered the garrisons to be built first; the Wall itself would then rise between them.

Men crawled like ants over the fortification. In the past, such a sign of industry—proof of his people’s skill and hard work—would have made Justin smile.

But not this morning.

He hadn’t smiled for weeks now.

Instead, his face felt frozen into a stern expression. His men were wary of him these days, as was his household. Previously, Justin had entertained his fellow officers in the evenings, but since arriving at Vindolanda, he’d thrown himself into physical toil. Come nightfall, he was too exhausted to host anyone.

Sometimes, even the physical fatigue wasn’t enough to keep thoughts of Fenella at bay, and so he’d empty a ewer of wine after supper. Anything to numb himself.

But the numbness never lasted.

The tribune cleared his throat then, and Justin tore his attention from the wall. Resplendent in his crimson cloak, his silver helmet glinting in the spring sun, Lucius eyed him.

Justin stiffened under his scrutiny. Infernus, this smug bastard was the last person he wished to see this morning.

“The Vallum is coming along nicely, is it not?” Sebastian Lucius swept an arm toward the ten-foot ditch that Justin had just clambered out of—the ditch that Hadrian had ordered to be dug along the length of the Wall. Pride shone from the tribune’s handsome face, as if he were personally responsible for it, and not the team of sweaty men below who lined the ditch, hard at work digging.

“It is,” Justin replied tersely.

“I must say though, it seems a lot of trouble to go to.”

“The emperor wants a buffer between the Wall and the lands to the south.”

The tribune’s brow furrowed. “I suppose we shouldn’t trust the Brigantes not to stir up trouble. Our emperor is wise indeed.”

Justin grunted, wishing the tribune would go away. Every time he saw Sebastian Lucius, he was reminded of his failures. Lucius was favored by Hadrian and destined for a sparkling political career.

Unlike Justin.

Upon arriving at Vindolanda, he’d appeared before the emperor. Their meeting hadn’t gone well. He’d spent the afternoon with Hadrian, providing answers to every question the emperor asked him. However, few responses had appeased him. In their lengthy interview, the emperor had made his disappointment in him clear. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Hadrian ended the encounter by stripping him of his rank, yet he had been. If Justin had hoped to move into politics, he’d find doors closed to him. Sebastian Lucius’s career might be soaring, yet his had ended.

He’d walked out of the emperor’s tent in a daze.

Justin was now grateful that Hadrian was off visiting one of the other forts along the wall. He’d return to Vindolanda in a few days, but for the moment, Justin had been left alone–except for Tribune Lucius, who had taken to following him about like a bad smell.