Chapter 3

"We do not have much time!" Alcaeus shouted from the door.

Aurelius swore under his breath. "How many are we expecting?"

"Thirty, perhaps?"

"I do not know. I am asking you!"

"Well, by the shouts of them I would say more, but I would rather think positively!" Alcaeus yelled back, irritation tinting his voice.

Aurelius clenched his jaw tightly, refraining from voicing the sarcastic reply that was surely on the type of his tongue. The urgency of their current predicament was enough to come between his usual banter with the Greek and left no room for petty arguments, however tempting it may be.

The shouts persisted from outside the corridor of cells. They had only so little time to see this mission through for Alcaeus, Acacius, and Percival could only hold the doors for so long. As soon as they had shut themselves in, they had gathered anything with enough weigh and placed it, along with themselves, against the doors. Such resistance, Benedicta knew, could not prevail against the strength of thirty or more men.

"Benedicta, you should not have come." Pelagius said this with disapproval, but Benedicta did not miss the overwhelming sense of relief shinning in his eyes.

"And leave you to die? No, my friend. I am getting you out of here," she firmly stated.

"How did you hear of my sentence?"

Her face adopted a crestfallen expression. "It is the talk of many taverns in and outside of Rome."

"I can imagine." He chuckled forlornly, a sad smile in place. "'Saintly man Pelagius' turned heretic."

Dolefully, Benedicta's hold of his hands tightened at the mention of the name that had many times been thrown derisively at the former bishop. Her heart could not help but anguish at the state that he had been reduced to. She had first noticed the loss of weight followed by the paleness. As she had reached for his hands and he for hers, she saw the tremors that had overtaken them. Even now as she held his hands tightly in hers, she could still feel them shake. She did not know how it was that he could still manage to remain upright.

"My child, what is it?" The worry in Pelagius's voice for her sake instead of his clawed at her heart.

"It is nothing. I simply-" She broke off and swallowed thickly. "Oh, how I have miss you, my friend."

"And I you, Benedicta. You have grown into a beautiful young woman and you, Aurelius Aquilla, into a fine young man."

Aurelius forced a smile for his sake and extended a hand into the cell to grip his shoulder. "And you look as strong and as youthful as ever."

Pelagius laughed softly, a raspy sound as if his voice had not produced it in quite some time. "You humor this old man, but I must ask. Where would we go? Germanus is to have to me executed today in front of many spectators. I do not doubt he will search for me in Britannia if he thought it necessary."

"Do not trouble yourself over such a thing," said Benedicta. "If you but ask, I will take you as far away as you wish."

Aurelius turned to the Keralite who was crouched down next to two unconscious guards searching their persons for the key to open the iron cell door. "The key. Have you found it?"

Mahavir's hands continued to search before stopping suddenly. Uneasiness crept up in Benedicta as she watched the Keralite's brows turned into a frown.

"Mahavir? Mahavir, what is it?" she asked.

Mahavir sat back on his heels.

"The key. These guards do not have it."

A pain filled grunt followed those words as one of the guards regained consciousness. Aurelius did not hesitate in grabbing the man by his cape. As was his gentle, patient way, the Roman struck the guard to wake him quicker. The soldier's eyes widened with a wildness of a frightened animal. Aurelius shook his by his cape.

"The key. Where is it?"

The guard remained silent, his startled look now replaced by a defiant one.

"Benedicta!" Alcaeus shouted.

Aurelius's lip curled in growing frustration and anger. Without warning, he pushed the guard down with a speed that caused a resounding thud as the guard's head impacted with the stone floor. The guard released another pained cry and found himself again face to face with the other Roman. "I have no qualms about killing you." And then with a growl and a shake of the cape, he yelled, "Where is the key?!"

"Germanus!" the guard shouted. A streak of blood was now running down the back of his head. "He wanted the privilege of escorting the prisoner to his death himself. He keeps the key as if it were some kind of prize."

Germanus, who was making his way to the prison as they spoke, surrounded by God knows how many guards. Germanus, the bastard who they had no chance in approaching. With an angered scream, Aurelius unsheathed his knife and dug it into the side of the guard's head.

The guard's lifeless body hit the stone floor and a suffocating silence settled between the four present. The only sound was the collection of shouts that came from the other side of the corridor's entrance as he guards attempted to push the doors open.

Aurelius reluctantly looked up to meet the anguish in Benedicta's eyes. Silently, she begged him for a solution to their predicament, an escape from their cruel ordeal, a reassurance that there was something to be done.

With a heavy heart, Aurelius closed his eyes in defeat and shook his head.

•••••••••••

A gentle shaking startled her awake.

"Forgive me," said Aurelius, sincerity lacing his words. "I did not mean to startle you."

Calming her breathing, Benedicta offered a smile to reassure him. "No need to apologize." She looked to the entrance of the cave. "It is already light out," she noted, throwing the cloak that covered her to the side. It did not pass her notice that her hands were slightly trembling.

"The others have taken the horses outside and are preparing to ride out. Mahavir has gone to refill our canteens by the river."

"Why was I not woken sooner?" she asked as she as she took hold of Aurelius's outstretched hand and stood.

Aurelius regarded her momentarily, his eyes searching hers for something unbeknownst to her. He then said, "You have not been sleeping well since we stepped on the shores of this land. The nights that you do sleep, you are restless. The mornings after, your eyes are as tired as they are now."

Benedicta hoped that the false smile she sported was convincing. "I have a lot on my mind is all. As you and the men do. The likelihood of war tends to chase away a peaceful night's sleep."

'And bring back memories of death one would rather not dwell on,' she thought.

"Still," continued Aurelius. "You know you can share your worries with me."

Her smile softened and she could not help but reach out and take his hand in hers. He returned her smile with a small, yet sincere one of his own. "I know," she said and tightened her hold on his hand before releasing it. "I am going to put these away and see if Mahavir needs help."

A strange emotion flashed through Aurelius eyes so quickly, Benedicta could not decipher before it was gone. She regarded him curiously, questioning whether or not she had imagined it. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Aurelius dismissed. "You should gather the remainder of your things. We will head out in a while."

Benedicta nodded and turned to gather her cloak. "I am eager to see Guinevere again," she said as she fastened both ends of the woolen material to her right shoulder by an eagle shaped clasp. "I wonder how she has be-"

She halted when she found herself alone in the empty cave.

•••••••••••

Aurelius was nowhere in sight by the time Benedicta stepped outside.

"Here is the beauty that Morpheus himself dreams of and who Aphrodite envies."

"Good morning to you as well, Alcaeus," said Benedicta with a laugh. She made her way over to her three friends who were occupied tying their bags to the horses.

"Your horse is ready, Benedicta," Percival informed her.

"Thank you, Perce. In what direction did Mahavir head towards?"

"He went to the stream. That way," said Acacius pointing to where the forest floor gradually descended.

She found Mahavir a few minutes later, leaned against a large boulder adjacent to the stream and gazing at the water. She made her way to the edge of the stream and crouched down over the water. A chorus of birds sang their various melodies and the rays of sun that broke through the forest's foliage were growing brighter and brighter.

"It seems so peaceful," she murmured

Mahavir's keen ears heard nonetheless. "It is the calm before the storm. Soon the valleys will be filled with the sound of war drums and the sky will be covered in black smoke."

Silence followed those words. Benedicta looked to her right, up the elevated floor of the woods where the waters of the stream descended from. Mahavir regarded her momentarily−her lips formed into a grim line, her jaw tense and clenched, and her eyes sad and troubled−before realizing that this was Benedicta, unguarded and unpretending. This realization was soon followed by another: this had not been the first time it was so. More and more he was beginning to notice that Benedicta would crumble her walls before him instead of Aurelius. A part of him, that part that time would so often prove to be an eerie sense of foresight, told him that Aurelius would one day notice this too.

"Do you recent me, Mahavir?" At the Keralite's impassiveness, she elaborated. She regarded him over her shoulder, that same haunted expression in place. "Do you recent me for bringing you here to fight a war that is irrelevant to you?"

"We are here by free will. You know this."

She opened her mouth before her eyes gazed away, as if pondering something, and promptly closing it. Mahavir, however, did not need words to know the root of her distress. He watched her as she ran her hand lazily over the steadily running water.

"This is about Aurelius."

It had been for some time now.

Mahavir was observant; extremely so. He could recall the burdened glances she would send Aurelius when he was not looking, the times she would open her mouth only to swallow the words she needed to say, how she would try to lighten his load and would every so often succeed in both doing so and heaving her own.

She stilled at this, halting her hand and letting the water run around it and between her fingers. "You say that you are here by free will," she said with a tired sigh, erecting herself and turning around to face him. 'Yet he finds many an occasion to question me."

"He questioned his God," he reminded her. "It should not come as a surprise for him to question a mere mortal, even if it is you." He paused before asking, "Do you doubt your decision to come here?"

"Never," she said with no hesitation. "If not for this, what do I have to live for? What cause do I fight for? I do not, on that final day, wish to leave this life knowing that I have accomplished naught. That I leave this world the same way as I entered it. That my life has been meaningless. Vain. I want to live a good life, Mahavir. One of purpose." She offered him a small smile, though strain as it was. "I know this is the path God as chosen for me and I trust in it."

"And we trust you. Aurelius does also."

Her smile turned into a grim expression. "As you said before. He questions me."

He nodded once in accord. "Yes, he does. He questions you, but follows you regardless. Questioning and doubting are two distinct things."

"I wonder..." She shook her head. "No, there is nothing to wonder about. That trust that he has towards me…It is misplaced."

"That is not true," Mahavir stated firmly, the slight furrow of his brows deepening.

She chuckled, the sound coming out hollow. "But he would think so. If he knew…" She looked away and shook her head. "Oh, God. If he knew." She swallowed the knot that had suddenly formed in her throat. "He would ask the same questions that I asked myself when I would look into his eyes for a long time after that wretched day. What if I had been fast enough? What if I had done things differently? What if it would have saved her? What if…What if part of me did not want to?"

She walked over the few rocks to that stood between her and the earthy shore, her eyes downcast. She leaned against the larger rock which Mahavir had his back against. "I questioned my integrity on that day for some time, Mahavir." Her eyes followed the river's direction downstream; her words were spoken so softly, so quietly that they seemed to be carried away by the water. "I know now that that guilt that I felt−that I still feel until this day−is because he wants her and instead has me."

She turned her head towards him and her haunted eyes locked into his knowing ones. "I know now what happened that day. I know what it is that I did and what I did not. I know what my intensions were. But will he know? Will he not doubt me after he hears the truth? The whole truth?" Her voice trembled slightly. "If he turned his back to our God for taking her away, what is to stop him from doing the same to me for letting her die?"

"You did not le-"

"Benedicta! Mahavir!"

The calls came from a slight distance from them. Benedicta swiftly detached herself from the rock and walked over to the edge of the stream. Breathing deeply, she gathered her bearings and turned to face Percival.

The Sarmatian stood over the large rock. His eyes, she decided with relief, gave off no indication that he detected anything amiss.

"We are packed and ready to ride out," he informed them.

Benedicta nodded, a smile in place. "Thank you, Percival."

Mahavir, his eyes never leaving Benedicta, grabbed Percival's waterskin and tossed it upwards. Percival caught it effortlessly. "We best not keep the others waiting," Mahavir adviced. "They may worry." His gaze briefly met Benedicta's and knew that she understood who he was truly referring to.