Promo: Gradarius by A.M. Swink
Today, I'm delighted to welcome back author A.M. Swink. I'm sharing an intriguing excerpt from her thrilling new adventure, Gradarius. It's well worth checking out, so read on!
Gradarius is currently on blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club. Find other enticing excerpts HERE!
From the corner of his eye, Decimus spied a bearded merchant hunched over the seat of his cart. He conversed with a short, shaggy-haired Silure. Their words cut clearly through the jargon of British that flowed through the settlement, for they indeed spoke Greek.
He shifted in his seat and hunched forward, anxious to seem oblivious. Despite its remote location, it seemed even Britannia traded in the common tongue of the wider world. Though he’d worked hard to become fluent, Decimus’s Greek had never been extraordinarily strong. He listened closely to the pair, parsing out every word he could distinguish.
The short Silure, clad in a rather tattered pair of leggings, stood on tiptoe. ‘Morcant requires assurance of his payment.’
The merchant frowned, glaring directly at Decimus seated close by. ‘Keep your voice down!’
‘For what? Nobody understands…’ The Silure followed the merchant’s gaze and pointed, grinning cruelly. ‘That man is an idiot. Can’t hear a thing.’
The merchant clasped his hands over his knees. ‘My client is not yet satisfied with your terms. He’s afraid that, if discovered, things would go quite badly for him. This reaches all the way back to the imperial court.’
‘No payment until you hand it over. Morcant is firm. We cannot trust a Roman’s word.’
Decimus frowned intently at his work, trying to study the merchant from the corner of his gaze. There was something vaguely familiar about the man’s flat face, large nose, and gleaming dark eyes. Had he seen him somewhere before? In the fort? In the vicus? Both? He accidentally wound another kink in his leather and undid the work, huffing in frustration.
The merchant fumbled behind him and heaved a small amphora from the bed of his cart. ‘Take this as a sign of our good faith. My client will produce the rest at the agreed upon meeting. But he will expect to be paid in full upon delivery.’
‘I’ll see that it’s delivered.’ The small man uncorked the vessel to glance inside. Satisfied, he tucked it under his arm and strode away. There was a waddle to his walk, almost as if his hips were too wide for his stunted legs. Seeing Decimus, he sidled up and babbled a series of taunting words in his native tongue.
Decimus kept his gaze averted, ignoring the small man.
The Silure laughed and scurried away, weaving a path among the roundhouses.
He turned to see the cart disappearing along a forest track. The merchantman was heading northeast, he noted. In the direction of Viroconium.
He sighed and set the bridle rein aside. The implications of what he’d just witnessed settled upon his shoulders like lead weights. The future of every man in every legion in Britannia pressed at his conscience.
I’m a soldier, not a spy, he fumed, scowling absently at women making cheese across a field. His mind raced at a frantic pace. He wasn’t a deep thinker like Tullius. If he had, his rash decisions wouldn’t have led to…
The scar on his cheek burned bright. With an impotent groan, he tossed his leatherwork aside.
A sound startled him from his reverie. He turned to see two children seated not far from him. His rein had landed on top of their scratched-out playing board, scattering the stones they’d been using as tokens. The boys regarded him with baleful stares.
He stood and walked over to their board. He snatched the rein away and paused. He watched the children’s fingers nimbly return the stones to their starting positions. He cocked his head, looking at the darker stones arranged along one side of the grid and the lighter stones lining the opposite side. The game seemed to resemble latrunculi, a favourite pastime of Tullius’s.
One of the boys met his gaze and gestured for him to join them. With a small smile, Decimus knelt. He glanced between them. The child beside him, clad in a homespun tunic, vaguely resembled himself as a young lad. The boy’s dark hair tumbled to his shoulders in unruly waves. He blew it out of his eyes as he moved one of his stones. His opponent, wearing a pair of brightly dyed trousers, regarded the move with steely brown eyes. His broad brow and stiff, sandy locks made Decimus think of his optio.
The boy rested his chin on his fist, considering his options, before finally moving one of his white stones. Decimus’s companion pointed, whispering excitedly in his native tongue. Grinning, he leapt one of his stones over the other boy’s and swiped the white stone from the board.
The sandy-haired boy frowned. The trio stared at the game board for a long moment.
Decimus couldn’t be sure of the game’s rules, but if it was anything like latrunculi, he saw an opportunity for the boy. Touching the lad’s shoulder, he motioned for him to take one of his white stones. He pointed out the circular path it could take to capture both black stones on the board.
The sandy-haired boy smiled, triumphantly capturing the pair of counters.
‘Artacos! Teilios!’
All three turned towards the cheese-making women. One stood regarding them, her cloths gathered in one arm.
The boys swept up their stones and scuffed out the board in the dirt. Waving to Decimus, the pair gambolled off to their waiting mother.
Decimus watched the trio pick their way through the fields to one of the roundhouses. The children joined hands as they trailed in their mother’s wake. Even out here, far from civilization, Decimus marvelled, he could find a pair of sanguinem fratres playing the very same games.
His face suddenly fell. The Romans and the Britons played the very same games…that turned wily boys into ruthless soldiers.
~~~
Blurb:
WAR IS ON THE HORIZON
Sworn enemies turned lovers, Decimus and Luciana face new challenges that put their love to the test. Decimus, haunted by his past, struggles with his feelings in the present. Luciana, when confronted with her old friend Boudicca's struggles, questions which of her loyalties is more important: her loyalty to Decimus, or her loyalty to her people? When sent to investigate a Roman traitor in Decimus's legion, both will have to decide which side of the coming battle they'll be on.
Rome and Britannia are hurtling toward a reckoning. Will Decimus and Luciana find a way forward together before war tears them apart?
Comments
Post a Comment