Descendants of Rome (#3 in Gladiator Series)

Chapter 18

Chapter 18  

Octavia stared at the charcoal pot, the remnants of poisoned grain solidified at the bottom.

A sharp exclamation of frustration left her tight lips as she kicked the cooking pot across the field, hitting a wounded foot soldier in the arm.

“Commander,” Hadrian spoke in a soft tone but she heard the warning behind her name.

Octavia flashed him a look as she struggled to control herself; Hadrian was right, the men could not see her fall apart.

“What does the apothecary say? Any long-term effects?” Octavia swept her cloak out behind her as she spun and stalked towards her own tent in the distance.

“Nothing more than food poisoning,” Hadrian recalled the feeble old man’s words.

“Only food poisoning,” Octavia scoffed as she turned on Hadrian, her voice rising in volume, “and yet it was enough to almost disable my entire force!” 

Hadrian bowed his head, his plain brown eyes focusing on his boots.

“Put a guard on the rest of the supplies,” Octavia snapped, although she doubted Krista would try such a risky move.

Krista did not seem the type to repeat a strategy once used. It would tantamount to defeat if she tried to infiltrate their camp again.

Throwing the curtains aside as she stepped into her tent, torches burning and warming the air, Octavia unclipped her cloak and allowed it to fall to the floor behind her.

A servant quickly swiped the cloak from the ground and disappeared once again, leaving the Commander and her General alone.

“It seems we have underestimated our opponent,” Octavia cricked her neck.

“A fluke, Commander,” Hadrian brushed their defeat aside like a piece of stale bread, “Nothing more.”

“A fluke?” Octavia raised her eyebrows, “Krista and her . . . gladiators,” Octavia spat out the word, “seemed to have walked into a roman encampment and poison the food. That seems like a fluke to you?”

“A lucky shot, at best,” Hadrian rallied Octavia’s thoughts, “After today we still outnumber them. It would not take long to attack the fort and break inside.”

“I am sure they have thought of every possibility and planned accordingly,” Octavia sighed as she poured herself a drink, “They hold the high ground and their men are emboldened by their victory after today.”

“Their only victory,” Hadrian stepped forward, his hand resting on his sword.

“Do not forget who we are fighting, Hadrian,” Octavia sighed as she sat and pondered her options, “These are not just mindless peasants.”

“No, they are slaves,” Hadrian sneered, “Led by a woman.”

Octavia raised her eyes and observed him carefully, “Do not forget you leads you, General.”

Hadrian averted his gaze.

“And she is not just a woman,” Octavia spoke, “She is-”

“-She is the gladiator that almost destroyed Rome.” A voice suddenly declared as its owner stepped into her tent uninvited.

Hadrian spun to see who had entered whilst Octavia remained where she was.

“General Polonius,” Hadrian swallowed, releasing his sword immediately around the sensitive General. One wrong move might see Hadrian’s head removed from his shoulders.