Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,12

not forget to keep our horses saddled.”

“They are ready, sir,” the boy said, his voice squeaking with fright. “I, I heard the scream. I am most grateful it wasn’t you, sir.”

Gigi hurried past him and headed for their horses. Taking their leads, she brought them to the main door as her husband pressed a pouch of coins into the boy’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here,” she urgently whispered, desperate to get away.

“You must leave this place, lad,” Magnus warned. “They’ll torture you to find out where we’ve gone, whether you know or not.”

“But his family … they’ll go after his family, too,” Gigi said.

Wide-eyed, the boy stared at the pouch. “I have no family.”

“Then go now and never return,” Magnus ordered.

As he dashed off, Gigi and Magnus mounted their horses and raced away. She hoped the stable boy would escape. She didn’t want him to suffer for helping them, like the bald man certainly had.

Gigi closed her mind to dark thoughts and concentrated on staying on her horse. Portus to Barcelona by land. It had to be a thousand miles, maybe more. How long would that take in the best of circumstances? How long would it take in the worst? She entwined her fingers through her mare’s mane and bent over its neck. They were flying through town, making enough noise to raise the dead, but thankfully it was very late and no one seemed to care.

Soon, the gate and Portus lay behind them, open country and myriad back roads before them. They made less noise out here, hooves beating against packed dirt, two shadow figures riding low as they galloped into the moonless night.

• • •

Africanus was livid. They were dead! He’d given strict orders Magnus and his wife were to be captured and brought alive to Ravenna, to suffer and die at Honorius’s whim. But a lone, idiot assassin had killed them in their sleep, and now, he, Africanus, would pay for the bungler’s mistake!

Bassa, you fucking Thracian, may you be cursed to the deepest pit of Hades! Africanus had strangled him that morning. Would Honorius mete out the same punishment to him when he delivered the news of this colossal failure?

It had taken Africanus a day to be notified, another to reach Portus. Wretched fate! His fury only increased as he strode toward the inn, a troop of legionnaires marching behind. Leaving his men on the street, he and his second-in-command entered. The owner and his staff nervously waited inside.

“Where are the bodies?” Africanus bellowed.

The innkeeper blanched, then turned and sprinted up the stairs. Africanus and his officer followed him to a third-story room.

The bodies lay on the bed, hidden by a bloody blanket, the open windows doing nothing to alleviate the stench of death. Africanus tried to lift the blanket, but it stuck to the remains. He signaled to his officer for help, and together they peeled back the covers. The corpses had already started to darken and bloat. They were twisted into grotesque poses, the woman’s mouth frozen in a silent scream.

The innkeeper gagged and ran from the room.

Africanus stood and stared. Praise all the gods; it was not Quintus Magnus or his wife! Smiling at his second-in-command, he left the room.

The innkeeper waited in the hall, visibly shaking. “Sir?”

“What is it?” Africanus bluntly asked.

“Did you find those you sought?”

Africanus exchanged a glance with his officer. “No. The dead are not the legatus and his wife.”

The innkeeper pursed his lips. “Then I have something to show you, sir.”

Africanus and his second-in-command followed the man downstairs, to a second-story room. Inside, lay an abandoned legatus uniform.

“I was baffled to find this here, and you might also be interested to know my stable boy has disappeared,” the innkeeper said. “I believe — ”

“They switched rooms,” Africanus finished for him. He looked at the open window. “Was the murder noisy?”

“Very much so. The woman screamed.”

“Then they left by the window as soon as they heard the commotion. They probably got horses from your missing stable boy, and are certainly long gone by now.”

Africanus stared at the window, thinking. He would find out exactly where they were heading. It wouldn’t be difficult. Tongues were probably already wagging in this town. Soon they would be wagging for him, spilling the truth by means of bribery or force — the method mattered not.

He grinned and good naturedly smacked the innkeeper on the shoulder. He had his life back. From now on, he would personally hunt Magnus and his wife. He would