Between Two Worlds [Excerpt Only] | NOW A PUBLISHED NOVEL

Prologue

IT BEGAN WITH a whisper.

A mere snatch of conversation heard while on his way to the baths; and yet in that half-breath of a moment, the snippet of song on Justus' lips was replaced with choking silence.

He minded then how sharply the damp, mossy walls of the fort stood out against the pale grey of sky; how loud the tramp of the guards sounded as they strolled back and forth above the gates. A cough from an auxiliary on the battlements above him thundered in his ears. The world darkened to his senses and then grew vivid once more.

Stumbling back to his barracks, all thoughts of a bath forgotten, Justus paused before the door of the squat building, identical to the legionaries' quarters of every army camp across the Roman Empire. Looking back, he gazed at the town and the green, rolling landscape that sloped away from the castrum the hillfort was built upon. A cold breath of wind stirred the scraggly bushes leaning against the walls, an empty, mocking rustling. The clouds above parted for an instant, revealing brilliant azure beyond the bleak gloom; and then it was gone. Gone like the fleeting joy of the past year.

His throat constricted and he turned away, stepping into the damp darkness of the barracks.

Within seconds, his eyes adjusted to the dusty gloom and he made his way to his humble centurion's cot, settling down upon it. Faint creaks and scuffles could be heard from his soldiers as they moved about, discarding their embossed-leather armor for woolen tunics and tight-fitting breeks beneath. The air reeked of musty straw, leather, sour metal, and sweat. A couple auxiliaries passed him on their way out to the baths, but neither of them said a word.

Justus placed his head in his hands, his mind whirling with what he had overheard.

Quintus says we shall be marching out soon. That British whore is gathering forces for a rebellion; her hosts have already besieged Camulodunum. We are to send a large vexillatio to hold back the tide while we wait for reinforcements....

Justus lifted his head, helplessness overwhelming him. Within a matter of days, he would be required to fight against a people that were not his own by birth, but among whom he had strong ties—ties not easily broken.

He leaned back against the cold stone and closed his eyes, fragments of the past year flooding his mind....

~~~

Water dripping endlessly.

Dampness enshrouding the intermittently-spaced torches.

A foggy glare glistening off wet stone walls.

Muffled cries.

A strange sense of excitement, the like of which he had never felt before—and yet a feeling of horrible dread.

'What be our mission this time?' Justus had asked as he marched swiftly through the dungeons of the fort.

'Boudicca hath been imprisoned,' came the swift reply from the battle-scarred centurion beside him.