Chapter Eight: Caesar's Girl

"No way to control the auxiliaries," the courier gasped, wincing as slender young Octavia bandaged the ghastly wound on his head. Her stately companion Servilia was dressing the smaller wound on his sword arm. "The moment the Gauls attacked, the general's bodyguard scattered, and the native cavalry went over to the enemy!"

"Numbers," Lucius Vorenus snapped. Even though two high-born Roman ladies were in the tent, he had immediately assumed command. Octavia felt safe just hearing his voice. Even if a million Gauls were on the warpath, the veteran centurion of the Thirteenth Legion could hold them all at bay!

"Not more than a thousand . . . in the party that attacked us," the young courier gasped. "But I saw them sending messengers . . . before they left me for dead. And I heard a name, Centurion. Vala . . . Valata . . . something like that." The poor boy passed out from loss of blood, and with the centurion's help Octavia gently laid him down on her own couch to rest.

"Valatara," the mother of the mighty Brutus said softly. Beautiful, black-eyed Servilia had not spoken since the courier staggered into their tent, except to instruct her frightened young companion in bandaging and cleaning his wounds. Now her haunting dark eyes seemed to glow with a strange fire.

"Valatara is only a myth," Centurion Vorenus said roughly, not bothering to hide his dislike for the haughty and high-born Roman lady. Vorenus and Servilia had been enemies ever since the soft-spoken but cunning Servilia had tricked the simple soldier into murdering his innocent wife. Frightened young Octavia looked back and forth between the two of them, dismayed at the prospect of being caught in the middle.

"Who is Valatara?" The young noblewoman squeaked, trying to break the tension. Her voice was shrill and breathless, like a frightened child's. A blush stained the pale cheeks of the auburn-haired beauty.

"After Caesar conquered Gaul, and led Vercingetorix through the streets of Rome in chains, there was a rumor that the great chieftain left behind a daughter," Vorenus explained. "Conquered people always make up such stories. It makes them feel better to imagine a deliverer will return one day to set them free."

"But according to the stories, Valatara is more than just an ordinary girl," Servilia chimed in softly. "They say she was different from other girls from birth. She rides into battle on a giant black stallion, dressed in leather and furs. They say she behaves more like a man than a woman, even when she's not splitting skulls with her mighty two-handed axe."

"Is she real?" Octavia asked, her cheeks now alabaster white. "Is she coming? Can we stop her?" It was annoying to have to keep on asking questions like an infant. And Octavia also noted that while her own heart was hammering with fear her two guardians both looked perfectly calm and composed.

"She isn't real," Vorenus said bluntly. "And if she were, we'd kill her the moment she tried to breach the solid earthen walls of our camp."

"You mean to stay here in camp, then," Servilia said, her cultivated, slightly husky voice filled with disdain. "You mean to dig in for a siege."

"That's how Caesar taught us to do things, ma'am," Vorenus said, looking stubborn and male and handsome. "He was a great general until the weaklings and cowards in the Senate murdered him."

"Caesar was a tyrant who deserved exactly what he got," Servilia replied, not so much as blinking. She was so amazingly composed, Octavia thought. And still so insanely attractive, even for an older woman. "Furthermore, my son Brutus is not a coward."

"Of course not, ma'am," Vorenus said blandly. "That's why you're standing here calm as onions while your brave son is in Rome."

"Oh, never mind about who's brave and who is not!" Octavia cried out. It felt so good to finally lose her temper. She was horribly afraid of both Servilia and the Centurion, yet at this moment sheer frustration gave her the nerve to step right between the two of them. "Caesar was my own blood relative and I'm afraid. I'm so afraid my knees are knocking together! We need to send to Rome for help, right now!"

"Caesar's girl is right," Lucius Vorenus said. For just a moment he almost seemed to notice Octavia. But then he focused his amazing gray eyes on Servilia, as if vengeance on her was the only thing he would ever care about until the day he died. "Someone needs to leave this camp tonight."

"Yes," Servilia said, looking the brave soldier right in the eye. "Someone needs to leave this camp at once."