Page 92 of Taming the Eagle
“I still don’t understand.” Kahina’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Why now?”
It struck Justin then what a shock this would be for her. Aedan had been taken as a slave six years earlier, and still remembered well what it was like to live as a freeman—but Kahina had been sold by her father when she was all but a child.
She’d spent most of her life in slavery.
Justin met her gaze, marking the confusion he spied in her brown eyes. “We’ve been through much over the years, Kahina … and you’ve always been loyal.” He broke off, glancing at Aedan. The Brigante was watching him keenly. The two men locked gazes. “As have you, Aedan. I gave Fenella her freedom but overlooked you both. It’s time to correct that oversight.”
Stepping back, Justin motioned to the bread and fruit they’d been eating before he’d interrupted them. “Go on … finish your meal. If you have any further questions, I shall answer them later.”
He turned then and left the kitchen, skirting the portico and leaving the praetorium. On the street outside, he stopped, turning his head to the sky. They’d been having a spell of fine weather, and the sun warmed his face. Closing his eyes, Justin’s mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile.
A weight had lifted off his shoulders this morning.
He was a broken man without Fenella, yet he couldn’t let sorrow stop him from living. He had people who relied on him, and he wouldn’t let them down.
“Enjoying the sun, Commander?”
A familiar voice intruded, and Justin opened his eyes, swiveling to see Marcus walking gingerly toward him.
Justin frowned. “What are you doing outside?” he asked, taking in the officer’s gleaming lorica and the plumed helmet he carried under one arm. Marcus had gained permission to remain posted at Vindolanda, and was clearly keen to start his duties. “You’re not expected back at work for another fortnight.”
Marcus snorted. “I was going mad, cooped up in my quarters.” He grinned then. “Fear not, Falco has declared me fit enough for light duties.”
“Well, make sure you heed him,” Justin replied. He then glanced toward the principia. He had a pile of administrative tasks to get through, although it was a shame to bury himself under paperwork on such a lovely morning. “Where are you off to?”
“I’m going to climb the northern palisade,” Marcus replied, “and take a look at how the Wall is progressing.”
Justin favored his friend with a smile. “Well, before you do, you might want to stop by my house and bid Kahina good morning.”
Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”
Justin’s smile widened. “I’m not blind, Marcus … I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. The poor woman was distraught after you took a spear to the chest.” He paused then, noting how Marcus’s gaze widened, his lips parting in surprise. He’d succeeded in rendering his friend speechless. “It might interest you to know I’ve given Kahina her freedom.”
Still smiling, Justin turned on his heel and walked off.
As Fenella neared the fort, she slowed her pony to a walk.
It probably wasn’t wise to rush to the Wall. Even at a distance, she could see the outlines of men moving about, their pilums bristling against a cornflower-blue sky. They would have seen her by now, and some would have bows at the ready.
Best that she approached cautiously.
The pony’s feathered feet clip-clopped up the dirt track leading to the fort. She’d followed the Twentieth legion south, using her hunting skills to track their path. An army that size couldn’t hide its passing. Instead of following the coast, the path had veered west, bringing her here.
To the Wall that divided Britannia from Caledonia.
Fenella observed the great stone barrier rising against the sky before her, some of which was covered in scaffolding. The clatter of industry rang high into the morning air.
It was indeed formidable, although her mouth thinned at their hubris—to draw such a crude line across the landscape. She may have gotten used to some of the Romans’ ways, even given her heart to one of their generals, but there were some things she’d never accept.
They might be building their great wall, but these were still Brigante lands.
Her lips quirked then. Aedan was home.
“Ho, woman … what’s your business here!” One of the helmed soldiers shouted down. His tone wasn’t friendly—although Fenella hadn’t expected a warm welcome.
Raising her chin, she drew up her pony and peered up at him. “My name is Fenella,” she called back in Latin. “I’m here to see General Aquila. Is he in residence?”
She hoped he was.