Blood Eagle

Where the Road Leads

Arn’s magic dissipated as he allowed it to fade away. Thankfully, all the guests moved to stand in front of him as they turned towards the newcomers, and nobody paid him any notice.

“Mother Superior, glad to have you,” Salvius spoke.

“We are honoured by the invitation, Lord Salvius,” the aged woman replied.

“Of course. Are your sisters ready? Have you selected who shall go on the journey?”

“Everything is prepared. They’ll be aboard well in time before departure, I promise.” She looked over her shoulder at the nun behind her. “This is Sister Helena, my closest aide at the convent.” The aforementioned priestess gave a bow, and the guests replied with their own courtesies.

“Come, let us join the others in the gardens. That is where all the food is, after all,” their host declared, evoking polite laughter. He moved towards the door, the prioress joining him to walk alongside. Ignius glanced back at Arn, beckoning him to walk with an impatient gesture before hurrying after the others.

As for Helena, she stood aside and allowed herself to be behind the crowd, until she could fall into pace next to Arn. ‘Congratulations on your wreath.’

He wondered if she meant it earnestly. ‘Thanks,’ he simply replied. ‘How is it you’re here?’

‘Some of my sisters will accompany Lord Salvius on his expedition to establish a chapter of our order on the Isles,’ Helena explained.

‘Are you going?’ Not that it mattered, considering Arn’s own plans, yet he found the thought of her departure difficult to bear; a foolish sentiment, but true all the same.

‘No.’ The quick gesture made Arn feel an odd sense of relief, and he chastised himself while paying attention to her next signs. ‘But our convent depends on donations from benefactors such as those present tonight. I am to one day take Mother Superior’s position, and so she has brought me along.’

Arn understood, nodding to himself. ‘So you can see how it’s done, getting money from the rich.’

He believed he saw the fabric before her face flutter. ‘And so they’ll remember me once I take the Mother Superior’s veil.’

‘You’ll make a good high priestess.’

‘That’s not – thank you.’

They moved through the corridors at a leisurely pace, perhaps to allow the guests time to take in the wealth on display; exquisitely carved statues filled niches, and trees were cut into the stonework to create a grey forest. An impressive display of craftsmanship, yet Arn would rather walk in true woods with the spirits of tree and brook for company instead of dead marble. Distracted, he almost missed Helena’s next words, barely catching the flurry of movements from her hands.

‘What troubles you?’

‘I’m being dragged around like a prize cow.’

‘Right. My apologies. You just seemed so… tense, in the other room. Like a jar about to burst.’

Arn tried to lick his lips; even months later, he still sometimes forgot. Part of him felt that he should dismiss her questions and keep the matter to himself, but another part whispered that she already knew enough to see him executed. ‘On the wall. Salvius has my sword and tribal token hanging, as trophies.’

‘How did he acquire those?’ A moment’s delay. ‘Of course.’

‘Yes.’

‘Does he know who you are?’

‘I don’t know.’

Her hands remained still for a moment. ‘I can’t imagine the strength to stay your hand in his presence. Especially when he taunts you with your belongings, knowingly or not.’

Arn had not expected her to understand his mood so well; perhaps he was more obvious to read, or she understood people better than he assumed. He had figured some kind of admonishment or discouragement from following through on his instinct, the gentle sister urging him to make the meek choice.

‘If he knows, your hands are tied, of course,’ she continued. ‘But if he doesn’t, I urge you not to make a move against him.’

Arn scoffed to himself, receiving the awaited response with delay. Yet before he could reply, her next words arrested him.

‘You would not survive. I don’t want to see him or anyone else hurt you more than you have been.’ While he gathered his thoughts, wondering what to reply, she added, ‘Same reason I could never have watched the games. Please, don’t do anything rash.’ She reached out a hand to quickly squeeze his in a forbidden touch, reiterating her prayer with a whisper. “Please.”

Her grasp prevented him from answering the implicit request, and as she let go, they arrived at the gardens, which made Ignius turn and gesture for Arn to follow him. Relieved that he was spared having to make any promises he could not keep, the Tyrian followed the lanista gladly. He did not see more of Sister Helena that night.

*

Thankfully, Arn was also spared the company of Salvius, except towards the very end, when Ignius and his company bade their host goodnight. Arn had continued to play the role of ignorant in the Aquilan language, as it served well to keep interest in him low; the other guests fawned over the champion and made various remarks, but as they could not speak with him, they quickly turned their attention to other matters, and he spent most of the evening serving the same role as a garden statue.

Driving back to the ludus, Arn’s mood had changed greatly, however. He did not regret being forced to come along, and his earlier frustration had vanished. He had blessed the gods for placing Salvius and his weapon within reach, cursed them for the disruption caused by Helena’s arrival, and now he blessed them again.

Tonight, Arn had learned three important things. Where his sword could be found. Where Salvius lived. And that he had to strike tonight rather than risk his quarry escaping across the sea. Marking the route well, Arn prepared himself. From above, the moon faintly illuminated him, like a promise that his labours would be crowned with success the way the light crowned his head. Around the carriage rumbling through the street, the drunken revelry continued.