In the Nightlands – Part Five

Iron Born Capital St. Joseph, Missouri February 28th

Thirty minutes after the duel, the familiar pinch and pull of being stitched up was finally over. Scythia and doctor Crowell seemed to have come to a truce while they sewed him up. Broc Beag was taking hot poultices from Anne Groves, one of the Legion surgeons and handing them to Scythia who was applying them to the stitched wounds. She and Dr. Crowell then bound them down.

“You are quite good at this,” Crowell complimented her. Scythia didn’t respond.

Anne smiled at the army doctor. “She is. But she’s too much her father’s daughter to be bothered with skills that don’t include blades and guns. She can’t kill bears with bandages.”

“Bears?” Jean Smythe asked, sounding horrified. The subject was apparently sufficient to distract she and James from their plotting about Broc Beag testifying in Philadelphia.

Anne smiled over her shoulder. “She killed a bear with a lance last year as part of her trials.”

Hekration couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corner of his mouth at not only the look on the barrister’s faces, but his pride at Scythia’s accomplishments.

“A lance? You mean... from a horse?” Jean asked, looking like they were talking about flying to the moon.

“How else?” Anne asked, turning to him and grinning.

Broc Beag held a cup to his lips. “Drink.”

He did as directed. It was bitter; medicine mixed with wine from the city. A surge of voices rose outside the house, it wasn’t nearby, but there were a lot of them. The work of bandaging him sped up. Anne was smiling broadly.

The barrister’s looked around confused. “What’s happened?” Jean asked.

There was a knock on the door and then it was pulled open, a breathless young man stood in it smiling. The hubbub of voices was louder and the sound of drumming joined them.

“The baby’s been born! Tanem and Bria’s!”

Hekration pushed up from the table, grimacing.

“Wait! What are you doing! You’ll tear out your stitches,” Crowell complained. Broc Beag helped him raise his arms while Scythia rolled up his good wool tunic.

“Bend over! I can’t reach that high!” she complained pulling his arms down so she could get the tunic over his head.

“Wait!” Crowell complained.

“I’d stay out of the way, doctor,” Captain Miller said with a smile.

Once the tunic was on, Broc Beag grabbed his white Consul’s wrap and wound it around him. Scythia checked his sword, turning it side to side and wiping it clean. Scathach grabbed an oiled rag from the work bench in the other room and tossed it to her. Scythia wiped the sword down before sliding it into the sheath. The unrepaired nicks in the blade clicked against the metal throat of the scabbard as she slid it home. She threw the strap over her shoulder, settling her father’s sword at her side.

Jean Smythe looked at him concerned as he limped toward the door. “What are you doing? You need to rest, don’t you?”

He just raised a corner of his mouth at her and walked painfully out the door.

By the time they’d covered the quarter mile, voices were hooting and shouting and the sound of drums had been joined by other musical instruments. He made the best time he could, but his muscles had stiffened and the fresh stitches made it hard to move.

The normally stoic legionaries were smiling and jostling one another in a celebratory air that verged on a riot. Hekration looked over his shoulder. Captain Miller and some of his soldiers provided a barrier between the rough housing Fulmene and the barristers who looked like they were under assault. Scatach and four other Fulmene bulldozed their way through the crowd for him, Broc Beag and Scythia helping him along.

Tanem and Bria’s house was festooned with colored cloth that had been thrown onto the roof, baskets of food and other gifts crowded the door. Outside the door were several members of the Fulmene senate including Acestes Colt. Beyond them were brave members of the Iron Born senate who were being jostled by joyful legionaries.

Acestes greeted him as he arrived. Scathach intervened. He accepted her interference gracefully, speaking around her.

“You fought well, Hekration. Death overcome by birth in the same hour?” He nodded with a smile. “A good omen.” Acestes leaned in to only be heard by their small party. “It was not my desire, Hekration. This wasn’t what I wanted.”

Hekration disengaged from Scythia and stepped past Scathach.

“It is done. There won’t be a question about it now.”

Acestes put a hand on his shoulder, cautious of his wounds. “I’ll see to it -- Consul.”

Hekration turned catching Scatach’s eye. She nodded agreement. He turned to his left to Broc Beag. Her eyes were still dark and angry, but she nodded as well.

“So it will be.” They shook hands and he turned back toward the front door of the house.

Pherusa Gaius, Consul of the Fulmene Senate stood just outside the door. She watched him critically, her eyes moving to Acestes and back again. She nodded to him as he passed. “Well done, Hekration Valerius Marcellus.”

Scathach stepped away allowing he and Broc Beag to enter the crowded house, followed by Scythia. It was filled with smiling faces, Tanem and Bria’s family and the midwives. He greeted them as they passed through. For the first time in days, Broc Beag smiled exchanging kisses with Tanem and Bria’s family. People gave him room as he painfully moved through. In the small bedroom, Tanem sat at Bria’s side.

The matron midwife eyed him skeptically, noting the blood stains from his wounds on his white Consul’s wrap.

“She is tired,” she said with matronly command. “And you should be resting.” She narrowed her eyes at him and then turned her ancient gaze to Broc Beag. “You should have broken his leg and kept him at home,” she scolded.

Broc Beag was practically hopping in place in her excitement to get to the baby. “Of course.”

The matron stepped aside and Broc Beag moved to Bria who was holding the baby proudly. Hekration stepped to Tanem. He stood offering the chair.

“Please sit Hekration,” he said.

Hekration shook his hand. “If it sit, I won’t be able to get back up again.”

Scythia pressed in at his elbow, she was smiling too, her eyes on the baby.

“Thank you for coming,” Tanem said.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said.

“He waited to be born until we knew you were alive,” Bria said, rocking the newborn. She smiled at Tanem then turned back to him. “We would like you to hold him,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. He tried to kneel, but was caught mid movement by a savage stab of pain.

Scythia grabbed his elbow.

“Don’t be stupid! You can’t bend like that!” she snapped. Broc Beag came around the bed and helped pull him upright.

“See, I told you,” he said to Tanem. He grimaced feeling stitches pull.

Tanem took his son and carefully handed the boy to him. The rest of the world seemed to disappear for Hekration as he looked at the little face and hands. He was a healthy boy, heavy in his hands.

“You are a strong one, aren’t you,” he asked the tiny face.

“We’d like to honor you, Hekration. We would like to name him after you,” Bria said.

Hekration looked at her and her husband, then back to the baby boy, bobbing he newborn ignoring the pull of his stitches.

“If you would honor me, name him Catellus,” he said.

END