Free The Last Disciple by Sigmund Brouwer Page B

of you. Ensure that the bestiarius keeps his word.”
    “How can I do that?” Leah asked.
    Nathan explained what the others had requested.
    “I can’t,” she cried.
    “You must,” he said. “Think of the children. Not of me.”
    Leah wept, and he simply held her hands until finally, he had to beg her to leave and return to their home.

    In Britannia Vitas had weathered the final stand against Queen Boudicca, when she and thirty thousand tribal warriors had attacked the legion. He’d stood shoulder to shoulder with other soldiers, hacking and stabbing with his sword against waves and waves of attackers.
    He was no coward.
    But he knew the odds were against him now if he remained in the square.
    Below were two others to help him fight. So after the initial charge that had deflected the three pursuers from the woman and the baby, he saw no shame in running away as well, following her down the hill, hoping to draw them to Titus and Maglorius, where the odds would suddenly change.
    The moonlight was bright, and it seemed as he grew closer that Maglorius was standing behind Titus, actually holding a knife to his friend’s side.
    The woman was on the ground, cradling the baby.
    Then, as if making a decision, Maglorius abruptly moved away from Titus and faced uphill, knife poised.
    And Titus found his short sword.
    The pursuers were nearly upon him as he approached. Vitas was in full stride, and his forward foot hit the same uneven stones that had tripped the woman. He, too, stumbled, and his shoulder rammed into Maglorius.
    Maglorius fell to his knees.
    In that moment, the nearest pursuer swung his sword at Maglorius.
    Maglorius grunted in pain and tried to rise.
    Titus had already begun to counterattack, and the next moments were a blur of frenzied action, of steel against steel.
    Vitas gave no thought to each thrust and parry. For to think would be to hesitate, and to hesitate would result in death. He relied on instinct and years of hard training as a Roman soldier.
    Almost immediately, it became apparent to the pursuers that these men were no fighting civilians who could be expected to quail under the barrage of an attack.
    “Enough!” one shouted. And ran.
    The other two instantly spun away.
    Vitas leaned, hands on his knees, heaving as his lungs burned for air.
    Titus leaned beside him, speaking as he gasped. “They’ll be back. Did you see that they were city guards?”
    “I see no cowardice in an organized and prudent retreat,” Vitas managed to say. He turned to Maglorius to check for agreement.
    Maglorius was on both knees, clutching his side. Blood soaked his tunic. He stared wordlessly at Titus and Vitas.
    Titus picked up the knife that Maglorius had dropped. He advanced on the fallen man. Maglorius mutely clutched his wound as blood streamed through his fingers. He swayed as he watched Titus and the knife.
    “This is yours,” Titus said gravely, handing Maglorius his knife. “Thank you for allowing me to help my friend.”
    “We must go!” the woman said. “Those men were sent by Aristarchus.”
    Neither Titus nor Vitas responded.
    “He’s the treasurer of Smyrna,” she said. “This is his baby. He must have known I would try to save it.”
    “Local government.” Titus cursed.
    “They don’t know who we are,” Vitas said. “We’ll be safe.” He stared at the woman. “But you won’t be. Not if he had men waiting for you at the temple.” Vitas made his decision. To the woman, he said, “What is your name?”
    She bowed her head. “Sophia.”
    “You can find a wet nurse for the baby?”
    She nodded.
    “Then stay with us until we reach my brother’s villa,” Vitas said. “I’ll keep the baby safely there while you get the nurse. And a doctor.”
    She hesitated.
    “Listen,” he said. “My brother is the last person any authority would suspect of hiding a baby.”
    More hesitation, then a slow nod.
    “Vitas,” Titus protested. “A baby. This is not our