Read The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 for Free Online Page A
Authors: Nick Brown
older than Amathea. He looked over at the walls and trees, to make sure no one was watching. His sister rarely considered such details.
‘Skiron, my wine.’ She took her glass from the steward.
‘Don’t do this,’ said Kallikres.
‘I wish we didn’t have to.’
Alexon doubted whether anyone present believed her. Despite his determination to stand by his sister, he was suddenly struck by a vision of an arrow embedding itself in the maid’s face. He walked over and whispered to Amathea. ‘Sister …’
She held up a hand. ‘That’ll do, girl!’
Lyra stopped and turned.
‘Back straight, head straight,’ instructed Amathea. ‘Then put the pear on top.’
The hunter was flexing his shoulders and wrists.
Lyra began to lift the pear then stopped. ‘Mistress … Mistress, please …’
‘Just put it on your head. I promise he won’t harm you.’
‘But …’ The girl was crying.
Amathea tutted. ‘Alexon, where are they from again?’
He knew she wouldn’t stop now. ‘Germania.’
‘So they worship …’
‘Aericura.’
Amathea raised her voice. ‘Aericura will watch over you.’
‘Mistress, how can you be sure?’
‘Do you give offerings? Say your prayers?’
‘I do.’
‘Then he will watch over you.’
‘She,’ said Alexon.
‘ She will watch over you,’ said Amathea. ‘Be a good girl and just put the pear on your head. It will all be over soon and you can go back inside.’
‘Do you promise I’ll be all right, Mistress?’
Amathea was now struggling to sound pleasant. ‘I promise!’
The hunter exhaled loudly, then checked the arrow and nocked it against the string. He turned side on and raised the bow.
Alexon watched Kallikres. The sergeant was wringing his hands like an old woman.
Lyra placed the pear on the top of her head. She held it there for a moment then put her arms by her side.
The bowstring groaned as the hunter drew it back. He closed one eye. The only noise was the ever-present buzz of crickets in the grass.
‘By the gods, I can see his fingers shaking,’ said Kallikres.
The hunter lowered the bow and glared at him.
Kallikres turned to Amathea. ‘How can he make the shot if his hand is shaking? That poor girl …’
Without any prompting from his employers, Skiron walked over to Kallikres and stood beside him.
But now the hunter seemed unsure about continuing.
‘Can he do it or not, Skiron?’ snapped Amathea.
‘Perhaps one of the others?’ suggested Alexon.
After a brief consultation, Skiron answered. ‘No, Mistress. If one of the others does it and … something goes wrong, it will cause a problem between them.’
Lyra reached for the pear. ‘Should I …’
‘Don’t move!’ yelled Amathea. ‘I was told fifty paces.’ She pointed at the hunter. ‘This is thirty. Tell him to fire now.’
The hunter needed no translation. He raised the bow and drew the string back once more.
Lyra checked that the pear wouldn’t fall then clasped her hands and closed her eyes.
Alexon and everyone else behind the Iturean was watching his fingers on the string. They were shaking, the tip of the arrow too.
The hunter let go.
The arrow flashed away and thumped into the turf well behind Lyra. It had missed the top of her head by at least a foot.
The hunter spoke.
‘A sighter,’ explained Skiron. ‘Now the real shot.’
Kallikres looked away and ran a knuckle across his brow.
Lyra was already reaching for the pear. ‘Is that it? Can I come back now?’
Skiron yelled at her to stand perfectly still.
Once more the bow was drawn. The hunter cocked his head to one side then lowered the weapon. This time nobody needed an explanation; a low-flying flock of noisy geese were flapping across the copse of conifers to the right. The only person who didn’t watch them was Lyra, who didn’t dare move.
Alexon peered at her. He couldn’t see any tears now but her tunic was wet upon her thighs. He wanted this to be over.
Back came the string again. The
‘Skiron, my wine.’ She took her glass from the steward.
‘Don’t do this,’ said Kallikres.
‘I wish we didn’t have to.’
Alexon doubted whether anyone present believed her. Despite his determination to stand by his sister, he was suddenly struck by a vision of an arrow embedding itself in the maid’s face. He walked over and whispered to Amathea. ‘Sister …’
She held up a hand. ‘That’ll do, girl!’
Lyra stopped and turned.
‘Back straight, head straight,’ instructed Amathea. ‘Then put the pear on top.’
The hunter was flexing his shoulders and wrists.
Lyra began to lift the pear then stopped. ‘Mistress … Mistress, please …’
‘Just put it on your head. I promise he won’t harm you.’
‘But …’ The girl was crying.
Amathea tutted. ‘Alexon, where are they from again?’
He knew she wouldn’t stop now. ‘Germania.’
‘So they worship …’
‘Aericura.’
Amathea raised her voice. ‘Aericura will watch over you.’
‘Mistress, how can you be sure?’
‘Do you give offerings? Say your prayers?’
‘I do.’
‘Then he will watch over you.’
‘She,’ said Alexon.
‘ She will watch over you,’ said Amathea. ‘Be a good girl and just put the pear on your head. It will all be over soon and you can go back inside.’
‘Do you promise I’ll be all right, Mistress?’
Amathea was now struggling to sound pleasant. ‘I promise!’
The hunter exhaled loudly, then checked the arrow and nocked it against the string. He turned side on and raised the bow.
Alexon watched Kallikres. The sergeant was wringing his hands like an old woman.
Lyra placed the pear on the top of her head. She held it there for a moment then put her arms by her side.
The bowstring groaned as the hunter drew it back. He closed one eye. The only noise was the ever-present buzz of crickets in the grass.
‘By the gods, I can see his fingers shaking,’ said Kallikres.
The hunter lowered the bow and glared at him.
Kallikres turned to Amathea. ‘How can he make the shot if his hand is shaking? That poor girl …’
Without any prompting from his employers, Skiron walked over to Kallikres and stood beside him.
But now the hunter seemed unsure about continuing.
‘Can he do it or not, Skiron?’ snapped Amathea.
‘Perhaps one of the others?’ suggested Alexon.
After a brief consultation, Skiron answered. ‘No, Mistress. If one of the others does it and … something goes wrong, it will cause a problem between them.’
Lyra reached for the pear. ‘Should I …’
‘Don’t move!’ yelled Amathea. ‘I was told fifty paces.’ She pointed at the hunter. ‘This is thirty. Tell him to fire now.’
The hunter needed no translation. He raised the bow and drew the string back once more.
Lyra checked that the pear wouldn’t fall then clasped her hands and closed her eyes.
Alexon and everyone else behind the Iturean was watching his fingers on the string. They were shaking, the tip of the arrow too.
The hunter let go.
The arrow flashed away and thumped into the turf well behind Lyra. It had missed the top of her head by at least a foot.
The hunter spoke.
‘A sighter,’ explained Skiron. ‘Now the real shot.’
Kallikres looked away and ran a knuckle across his brow.
Lyra was already reaching for the pear. ‘Is that it? Can I come back now?’
Skiron yelled at her to stand perfectly still.
Once more the bow was drawn. The hunter cocked his head to one side then lowered the weapon. This time nobody needed an explanation; a low-flying flock of noisy geese were flapping across the copse of conifers to the right. The only person who didn’t watch them was Lyra, who didn’t dare move.
Alexon peered at her. He couldn’t see any tears now but her tunic was wet upon her thighs. He wanted this to be over.
Back came the string again. The