To Love Again - Bertrice Small [60]
Quintus Drusus’s face was contorted with terrifying fury. “And you are a bitch, Cailin Drusus!” he hissed at her. “Who among the gods hates me so that he protected you from death that night when I had arranged for everything to be ended so neatly?”
Cailin threw herself at her cousin and raked her nails down his handsome face. “I will kill you myself!” she screamed at him, teeth bared.
Quintus Drusus raised his hands to strike out at her, but suddenly his arms were grasped and pinioned hard behind him. Panic rose in his chest as he saw the huge Saxon warrior push Cailin firmly behind him. Quintus Drusus knew from the look upon the man’s face that he was going to die. “Noooooo!” he howled, struggling desperately to free himself from the iron grip holding him.
Wulf Ironfist slid his sword from its sheath. It was a two-edged blade, thirty-three inches in length, made of finely forged steel, with an almost round point. Grasping the weapon firmly by its pommel, the Saxon thrust it straight into Quintus Drusus’s heart, twisting the blade just slightly in order to sever the arteries. His blue eyes never left those of his panicked victim. His look was pitiless. The undisguised terror he saw in return was small payment for all the misery and heartache Quintus Drusus had caused those about him, especially Cailin. When life had fled the Roman’s eyes, Wulf pulled his blade from the dead man’s chest and wiped it clean on Quintus’s toga. Corio then allowed the body to fall to the floor.
The Saxon looked challengingly at the magistrate, but Anthony Porcius said smoothly, “He condemned himself with his own words.” He put a comforting arm about his daughter. “Wait here,” he told them, and then he led Antonia from the atrium.
“A realistic man,” Corio noted dryly.
“He was always practical,” Cailin told him. “My father said for all his girth, Anthony Porcius had to be lighter than thistledown, for he could blow in any direction with any wind, just like a duck feather.” She looked down at the lifeless body of her cousin. “I am glad he is dead. I’m just sorry he did not suffer like my mother did.”
“Your mother is with the gods,” Corio told her. “This Roman is not, I am certain.” He looked to Wulf. “I think the men can wait outside now. There is no danger here.”
“Dismiss them,” Wulf Ironfist said, and then he told his wife, “Come and sit down, lambkin. It has been a long morning for a woman in your condition. Are you tired? Would you like something to drink?”
“I am all right, Wulf,” she told him. “Do I look like some delicate creature who must be pampered?” But she sat nonetheless on a small marble bench by the atrium pool. It was empty of water now.
Anthony Porcius came back into the atrium. “I have given my daughter into the keeping of her women,” he said. “She is, unfortunately, with child again.” He sat down next to Cailin. “My dear, what can I say that would possibly ease your suffering?” He shook his head wearily. “You never liked him, I know. I did not, either, but I thought I was a foolish old man jealous of his only child’s husband. Well, he is dead now, and will not harm you or Antonia again. What is past is past. When I return to Corinium, I will see your survival is made known, and I will have your lands legally restored. Your family’s slaves, and other goods of course, will be returned. Where will you live? The villa is in ruins.”
“The Dobunni warriors with us will help to raise a hall for us. We will bury my family with honor, then clear away the rubble and begin. There is nothing salvageable. We will have to start from the beginning, just like my ancestor, the first Drusus Corinium, did,” Cailin said.
“The big Saxon