Caveat Emptor
Nope… still don’t own it
Chapter Two
His body was heavy in her arms,
and Relena stumbled backward onto the hard, stone floor. She winced, the sharp grit on the floor
pressing into her exposed calves and ankles with the weight of his legs on
hers. Glancing frantically across the
hall to her friend, Relena implored him for his assistance.
“Trowa, help him!”
She knew he was still breathing;
his uneven rasp was hot against her shoulder.
Her hand shook as she brushed her fingers through his tangled and dirty
hair, so engrossed in the action that she started when she felt Trowa lift him
away from her. He stared down at her
with concern, but she paid him no heed, ignoring the crusted blood that had
come away on her hands and the smeared blood that the injured slave had left on
her clothes.
“You can’t seriously expect me
to pay for that, Relena!” Milliardo’s voice was irritated, unimpressed that the
slave had collapsed before the Trader had even left the room. He shot a scathing look at the old man, his
disgust unveiled. “Get that thing out
of my sight!”
Relena gasped, crouching over
the slaves’ unconscious form, using her body to shield him from the oaf that
now moved to take him from her. She
glanced up at Trowa’s seemingly impassive face, then across to her brother.
“Please, Milliardo, you
can’t. He’ll die.”
Milliardo frowned at her,
displeased that his sister continued to argue with him. His ire increased as he watched Trowa step
between the large man and Relena, his eyes flashing with malice while his hand
rested on the hilt of his sword, daring the man to try and take the slave from
her.
“Fine,” he snapped, turning his
annoyance on the soldier, “But get it out of here… NOW! And I don’t want to hear mention of it
again.”
Relena gave Trowa an apologetic
glance, wincing as her brother stormed past her, and out of the hall. The Trader’s minion fell back at his
Master’s command, following as the old man beat a hasty retreat, leaving the
air in the hall thick with tension.
“Please, My Lady, what would you
have me do? What are your orders? It may not be wise to linger here much
longer, else His Highness returns.”
Glancing at the Captain’s gentle
expression, Relena nodded quickly. “Oh course, we cannot stay here…” She
thought frantically, watching the uneven rise and fall of the unconscious man’s
chest with some distress. Mentally
shaking herself, she struggled to meet Trowa’s gaze with a confidence she did not
feel.
“Let me take him, My Lady. I know of a nurse that can take care of
him. He will be in good hands, I
promise. He simply needs his wounds
tended, and rest. You would honour me
to let me help you.”
Relena stared, grateful for the
kindness of her friend, yet surprised that a soldier of his rank would lower
himself to such a task of seeing to the care of a slave. She smiled softly, nodding her ascent to his
request and watching quietly as Trowa gestured for the man to be lifted
carefully and borne from the room.
Turning to leave, he paused a moment, bowing to his Lady, waiting to be
dismissed.
“Perhaps it would be better if
you wait ‘til the evening to see how he is progressing, Lady Relena. I shall send word of where he is, and if
there is any great change in his condition.”
Relena nodded again, seemingly
unable to vocalise the many questions and thoughts that raced through her
mind. Instead, she sat immobile on the cold
marble floor, long after Trowa had left the hall, the coarse texture of the
slave’s hair still vivid in her memory.
Her skin tingled in recollection, and she wondered briefly what it could
mean.
******
Relena waited impatiently for
night to fall, sure that the sun took far longer than normal to make its final
pass across the sky. The sunset had
glowed a vivid red, almost bloody in its hue, before dipping below the hills to
the West. Relena hoped that it was not to be a message from the Gods. He would be alive. Trowa had promised her.
Once darkness had settled, a
young slave, assigned to serving her, draped a heavy cloak over Relena’s
shoulders. She stepped back to watch
while her Lady pulled up the hood and tucked her blond hair out of sight. Relena smiled at her, and the maiden smiled
back. The smile was small, uncertain,
but there was an honesty in the dark blue eyes that was endearing. The dark-haired girl had not been at the
Palace for long, and the soft burr in her voice the few times she had spoken
betrayed her Celtic origins. There was
a sorrow in her countenance that intrigued Relena, and she hoped to get to know
her better. Nodding briskly, she resolved
to be friendlier with the other woman.
But for now, her thoughts were occupied with more pressing matters.
She moved quickly through the
lamp lit corridors, relieved that she met no one in her travels. Her heart beat an irregular tempo in her
chest, and she was unsure why the fate of the stranger was so important to her. His deep eyes had burned themselves into her
memory, and his dark promise captivated her.
Some deeper instinct cautioned her that there was more to this man than
merely chains and servitude. His very
countenance reeked of a world so different from her own life of privilege.
Soon, Relena’s footsteps had
carried her to the lower caverns of the palace, and following Trowa’s
directions, she found herself at the doorway of a barred cell. The heavy metal gate stood open, and Relena
stepped cautiously into the small, Spartan room. She stopped quickly in her tracks at the sight of a woman,
perhaps only a few years older than herself, stooped over the slaves’ prone
form. Her dark red hair caught the
candle light, adding a splash of colour to the otherwise bland and nondescript
room.
Her forehead was etched with a
frown, and she tutted softly to herself while she cleaned assorted lacerations
on the man’s right arm. She moved
suddenly, in reflex, as he struck out blindly with his left arm, which was
jerked back with equal force as it reached the end of its slack. The heavy chain, bound firmly to his wrist,
rattled back against the wall loudly.
“Really!” the woman muttered,
“That’s hardly the way to show gratitude.
I have a good mind to…”
Her voice trailed off, as she
became aware that she was being watched.
Glancing towards the door, her eyes widened momentarily before she
regained composure. Stumbling to her
feet, she bowed formally.
“My Lady! Forgive me, I was
preoccupied and did not hear you.”
Relena waved her apology away
graciously, stepping closer to observe the patient.
“How is he? Is he awake?”
Trowa’s even voice rose from the
doorway, appearing suddenly as if he had materialized from thin air. “No, My Lady. The fever has him quite firmly in its’ grasp.”
Relena frowned in confusion,
“But only a moment ago, I saw him move…”
“He fights demons in his dreams,
My Lady,” the red-haired woman interrupted, flushing suddenly as she realised
her boldness. Trowa smiled faintly at
her, reassuring her, before turning to Relena.
“This is my sister,
Catherine. She is the nurse that I
mentioned to you earlier, My Lady.”
Relena smiled gratefully at the
pretty woman, her attention quickly returning to their patient. “The… nightmares… That is why you have bound
him to the wall?”
“Yes, My Lady,” Trowa replied.
“He is a danger to himself and all around him in his present state.”
As though in response to the
soldier, the man growled low in his throat, his words unclear yet still
menacing. Catherine moved towards him
again, pressing a damp cloth against his fevered brow. His skin glistened with sweat, and Relena
was sure that it must burn to the touch.
She watched in silence as Trowa lifted the other man into a sitting position,
holding him still while Catherine wrapped fresh linen bandages around his chest
and covering the freshly cleaned and treated lacerations. She could not help but wince at the sight of
them, still painful looking despite the nurse’s remedies. It saddened her to think that another human
could have inflicted such wounds.
“Is there something I can do to
help,” she asked softly, wishing to do more than stand by idle. Catherine glanced at her, before shooting
Trowa a questioning look. He simply nodded
in reply, and the woman turned to hand Relena the damp cloth.
“Bathing his skin with the cool
water will help to bring him comfort, my Lady.” Catherine said softly. Relena smiled gratefully, crouching down to
do as instructed. The nurse stepped back,
watching her for a few moments, and Relena could only guess at what the other
woman could be thinking.
******
As the night wore on, his
breathing seemed to become more even, and the evils of his dreams abate. Relena continued to tend him, refusing
Trowa’s suggestion that she should return to her chambers and rest. In the waning hours of the evening,
Catherine was called away to assist with the birthing of a child, leaving Trowa
and Relena alone to watch their patient.
Deep in thought, Relena started
at the sound of Trowa’s unexpected question.
“Why are you doing this, Lady
Relena?” He paused a moment, taking in her puzzled expression. “Your intentions
are most admirable, but he is only a slave.
Why do you risk the wrath of your brother, and exhaust yourself now, for
a mere slave?”
The Captain’s question bore no
censure or animosity, his tone matter-of-fact, but Relena could not help but
stare darkly back at him.
“Merely a slave?” she snapped,
“He is a human being! How can you speak
in such an offhand manner of your fellow man?”
Flushed with anger, Relena
turned away from him, unthinkingly reaching across to stroke the sleeping man’s
brow. She struggled to control her
temper, realising with a sinking heart that the soldier’s words did not reflect
his own beliefs but rather those he believed held by the aristocracy. And he was not incorrect. The privileged society of
“I would have bought every one
of them if I thought I could diminish their troubles. But I am not a fool, Trowa, nor am I naïve. I could not help them all, but I could at
least help one. And trying my Brother’s
patience is a small price to pay. He
will recover from the slight, I assure you.”
Trowa nodded slowly, his
expression betraying doubt and scepticism.
“But why this one, My Lady?”
Relena motioned towards the top
of the man’s arm, pointing out the lacerated skin, “These scars on his arm… you
can still make out the lines of a tattoo.
Numbers, Captain. Similar to the
ones you should have on your own arm.
He wears the mark of the Roman army, and someone has tried to remove or
at least deface it. Surely you must see
that he is one of your own!”
Trowa frowned, refusing to
glance towards the wounds that Relena gestured towards. “It is most likely that he tried to remove
the numbers himself, My Lady,” He replied grimly, “It’s more likely he’s a
deserter, and he has tried to disguise the identity of his Legion. You have likely rewarded his cowardice with
misdirected kindness.”
Relena shook her head fervently,
frustrated that the man refused to acknowledge that she was correct in her
assumptions. Sighing, she forced
herself to remain calm and appear unaffected.
“Trowa, it would be easy and perhaps not unjustified, to assume that I
have grown up sheltered from the harshness of the World… that I am unaware of
what goes on beyond the Palace walls.
But I hope you would grace me with a little more credit than that.
Trowa frowned at her, surprised
by the vehemence of her words. Glancing
at the still form of the man who continued to sleep deeply, he wondered, not
for the first time, exactly what it was that was about the intriguing sister of
Caesar that troubled his conscience.
******
Trowa glanced towards the small
barred window, watching the thin rays of morning light that crept into the tiny
cell. The Lady Relena dozed lightly,
her head resting on her folded arms, propped on the edge of the narrow
cot. He looked behind him, as the soft
click of footsteps alerted him to his sister’s return. Her face was drawn and weary, but he knew
her well enough that she would not rest until her patient had regained
consciousness.
Taking in the sleeping Relena,
Catherine inquired softly if there had been any change. Trowa shook his head.
“He has been resting peacefully,
but has not awakened. Did all go well
with the birthing?”
Catherine nodded happily,
leaning over the slave and poking critically at the puckered wounds on his arm.
“You know him, don’t you Trowa?”
Her brother declined to reply,
avoiding her inquiring eyes as he moved towards the door. “I have to go for a
little while, Catherine. There is
someone I must see, but I won’t be long.”
And without a backwards glance,
he was gone.
******
The Senator stood on the
balcony, watching the crowds of people as they passed by in the streets below. His eyes did not appear to be focused, but
Trowa knew that nothing went unnoticed to the politician. A hot gust of wind ruffled his fair bangs,
lifting them away from his smooth forehead and revealing the frown that marred
the boyish features. The Captain stood
watching him in the shadows, waiting to be acknowledged.
“I hear that Caesar’s sister is
causing a stir again, Captain.”
Trowa gave a small smile,
despite himself. He straightened to
salute the Senator formally, as he turned away from the railing and moved back
into the room. Senator Winner waved a
hand dismissively at him, and indicated to him to take a seat.
“The Lady Relena took it upon
herself to purchase a slave from the markets, much to her brothers’
distaste. The man is somewhat worse for
wear… but we are sure he will gradually respond to our care…”
Quatre raised an eyebrow at him,
interrupting the soldier mid sentence. “Our
care? Since when does a Captain of Caesar’s army trouble himself with the
affairs of a slave? Surely your weakness for the Lady has not clouded your
judgement?”
Trowa flushed, and he threw a
dark scowl in Quatre’s direction. “You are mistaken in your assumptions,
Senator. My motivation is of an
entirely different nature.”
Quatre smiled softly at him,
enjoying his associates’ discomfort. “Then please, my friend, indulge me.”
The Captain leant forward, his
elbows resting against his knees, and he lowered his voice despite the absence
of anyone else in the room.
“It’s him, Quatre. We’ve found him.”
******
A.N. Many thanks for the many
kind and enthusiastic reviews and emails that I’ve received so far. I’m very happy to hear that people are
enjoying reading as much as I am writing. ^__^ A few notes, in response to some
questions…
ü
The title of the story…
Caveat Emptor… is of course Latin. It’s
actually a phrase I learned in legal studies when I was in college, and which
has for some reason always stuck in my mind.
It basically translates to, “Let the Buyer Beware.” Only time will tell whether Relena should
have paid some attention to that little piece of advice ~_^
ü
Ancient Rome has fascinated
me for many years… and while there will be ‘links’ to Roman history in the
storyline, I have not chosen a set time in history that the story takes place,
nor will any references to any recorded chronicle determine how this story will
be concluded. I simply hope to capture
the feeling and mood of the age rather than any particular event. But then… you never know… LoL.
ü
Although Gladiator is one of
my favourite movies, CE isn’t based on the film. *image of Heero in battle armour pops into head* O_O…. Sorry…
what was I saying….?
So until next time…. Thanks for
Reading!!