The Foreign Empress

Pursued

Flight or fight? Although both of them are the same height as me, there's no way I can take down both of the guardsmen with just my fists. Between their splint armor and the padded gambesons they're wearing underneath it, they might as well be invincible. I need to run. I rip my sāl off and fling it at their faces. I turn around and break into a full-speed sprint, my legs pumping, striving to put as much distance as possible between myself and the guardsmen.

I tear down alleyways and swing around corners, running without direction, only purpose. Yet, no matter how many turns I take, or how many backstreets I dive through, the steady clank of armor remains behind me. Damn! They're a lot fitter than they look! My breathing is heavier now, my breaths coming in rasping gulps, my heart struggling to pop out of my chest. The clanks grow ever closer and I can practically feel grasping hands behind me.

Up ahead, an intersection. Salvation! With my last reserves of strength, I sprint forward. Simultaneously, I yank off the dozen or so gold bracelets around my left wrist and throw them behind me. The clanks pause for a split moment as the pair greedily scoop up the gold. Dashing left around the corner, I race to the first place of concealment I can think of, hoping, praying, that it'll be enough.

I dive through the curtain separating a tiny hovel from the street. As my eyes adjust to the darkness inside, the occupants of the hovel become clear. A young girl, probably no more than eleven or twelve summers old, is curled protectively around her younger brother, shielding him with her body. The fierceness in her eyes shines through the muck and grime she's covered in, two radiant flames burning through the filth of their surroundings. I have no time to say anything, much less in my poor Chinese. I convey my intentions with a universal language that everyone knows: fear. The girl sees the look in my eyes, hears the clank of armor approaching, and instantly understands. She points at a tiny curtained off area a few inches to the right of the entrance.

I conceal myself just in time. There is a violent whoosh as the two guards enter the hovel. A rapid exchange ensues, none of which I catch. Then quiet. Steps. My chest heaves, lungs pleading for air. My breath comes out in tiny gasps. In the absolute silence, every single breath reverberates a thousand times louder than thunder. The steps draw nearer until they're right on the other side of the curtain.

I steel myself. If I am to die, then at least I will die a proud legionnaire of the Empire. "Pain is temporary. Honor is forever." Memories flashback to me. I can see the rolling green plains and mountains of Thessalonica again; I can smell the grass and hear the shouts of men training. I'm ready. The curtains are drawn back.