Voices rang out from outside the cellar. Several sets of legs tromped past the hopper windows.
“Damn.” I shuffled to where I lay before I’d freed myself. I lowered to the ground and clasped my hands behind my back, hoping to appear still bound.
The burned sisal rope rested nearby.
I’ve got to get rid of that and somehow cover up Marcellious’ wound.
Marcellious’s eyes had closed, and he took ragged breaths, as if exhausted from the ordeal I’d inflicted on him.
I rose, gathered all the evidence, and rushed it to the darkened corner of the room where the dead man lay. No way would anyone want to venture to that corner.
I raced back to Marcellious and settled beside him, shielding him from view, my hands clasped behind my back again.
A clattering noise came from the entrance, and the door creaked open, letting in a shaft of sunlight. Two sets of feet clambered down the stairs.
The men I recognized as Clayton and Amos stood before us, their faces stern.
Both men had scruffy, unkempt mustaches. Their shoulder-length hair was plastered against their heads as if it hadn’t been washed for weeks.
At least in Rome, cleanliness had been a part of daily life—if I wasn’t locked up in prison, of course, as I had been before we were transported.
Clayton paced back and forth in front of me, a pistol gripped in his hand. “So, who are you two? You’ve got long hair. You’re wearing loincloths. What tribe are you from?”
“We’re not from a tribe. I told you—we’re soldiers just like you. We were attacked by the Kiowa. They took our clothes and left us theirs,” I said.
“Well, ain’t that funny,” Amos said. “Before you told us you was swimming, got drunk and just happened to lose your clothes. You’re a liar, is what you is.”
He leered at me, revealing a missing tooth in the front.
“I wasn’t lying. It was the Kiowa who took our clothes. After they attacked us.”
Amos looked at Clayton. “Ain’t it funny how his story seems to keep changing? Next thing you know, they’ll tell us they was out dancing with maidens in the field, and the women took their clothes.” He guffawed, then turned to me. “Is that what happened? You came across some maidens in a field, danced a jig or two, then the maidens turned out to be fae, and they ensorcelled you?”
His guffaws turned into wheezing laughter.
“Seems like you’re spinning the tall tales,” I said. “I told you. We got drunk. We went for a swim in the river. The Kiowa attacked us and took our clothes.”
Amos crouched and backhanded my face.
My head whipped to the side from the smarting blow. I shifted closer to Marcellious. I didn’t want Amos to see Marcellious’ patched-up shoulder.
“I don’t like to be talked back to,” Amos snapped.
“Amos,” Clayton warned.
“What? He started it.”
“We came here for information, that’s it. Back away from him.” Clayton turned to me. “Assuming your story is right, which side are you fighting for?”
“The same side as you.”
Clayton canted his head to the side and studied me. “I question your truthfulness like my partner here does. We have a few more miles to go before meeting the other troops. We’ll present you before our captain, and he’ll decide.”
“He’s a bastard; our captain is,” Amos interjected. “He’ll likely leave you to suffer the same fate as that fellow in the corner.”
Again came his wheezing laughter.
“Let’s go.” Clayton spun on his heel and headed up the stairs with Amos.
