Sprawled in the filth of the pit, Gaius had poured out despairing curses on the timorous slave who had offered to show him a short cut from Clotinus’s home to the Roman road that led straight, or so he said, to Deva; on his own folly in letting the simpleton drive the chariot; on the hare, or whatever it was that had dashed in front of him and frightened the horses; on the ill-trained animals themselves, and on the fool who had let them bolt; and on the off-guard moment in which he had lost his balance and been thrown, half stunned, to the ground.
Stunned, yes, but if he had not been half out of his mind from the fall, he’d have had sense enough to stay where he’d fallen; even such a fool as the driver must sooner or later have regained control of his horses and come back for him. Even more than this he cursed his own folly in trying to find his own way through the forest and for leaving the path. He must have wandered a long way.
He must have been still dazed from the earlier fall, but he remembered with sickening clarity the sudden slip, the slither of the leaves and branches as the deadfall gave way, and then the fall, driving the stake through his shoulder with a force that had deprived him of consciousness for some minutes. The afternoon was getting on before he had recovered enough to take stock of his injuries. A second stake had torn the calf of his leg, ripping open his old wound; not a serious injury, but he had struck his ankle so hard that it had swollen to the size of his thigh; it was broken—or felt like it at least. Gaius, unwounded, was as agile as a cat and would have been out in moments; but now he was too weak and dazed to move.
He knew that if he didn’t bleed to death before nightfall, the smell of blood would certainly attract wild beasts who would finish him off. He tried to stave off memories of his nurse’s tales of worse things that scent might bring.
The damp chill was seeping through his whole body; he had shouted himself hoarse. Now, if he had to die he’d do it with Roman dignity. He huddled a fold of his blood-soaked cloak around his face, then, his heart pounding wildly, dragged himself upright; for he had heard voices.
Gaius put all his failing strength into a cry, half shriek, half howl; he was ashamed of the inhuman sound moments after it left his throat, and he struggled to add some more human plea, but nothing would come. He clutched at one of the stakes, but managed only to pull himself to his knee and lean against the dirt wall.
For a moment a last ray of sunlight blinded him. He blinked, and saw a girl’s head framed in light above him.
"Great Mother!” she cried out in a clear voice. "How in the name of any god did you manage to fall down there? Did you not see the warning marks they put on the trees?”
Gaius could not manage a word; the young woman had addressed him in an exceptionally pure dialect that was not altogether familiar. Of course, they would be Ordovici tribesmen here. He had to think a moment to turn it into the Silure patois of his mother.
Before he could answer, a second feminine voice, this one richer and somehow stronger, exclaimed, "Lack-wit, we ought to leave him there for wolf bait!” Another face appeared beside the first one, so like it that for a moment he wondered if his vision was playing tricks on him.
"Here, grab my hand and I think, between the two of us, we can get you out,” she said. "Eilan, help me!” A woman’s hand, slender and white, reached down to him; Gaius put up his serviceable hand, but could not close it. "What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” the girl asked more gently.
Before Gaius could answer, the other—Gaius could see nothing about her except that she was young—bent over to see for herself.
"Oh, I see now—Dieda, he is bleeding! Run and bring Cynric to pull him out of there.”
Relief washed over Gaius so powerfully that consciousness nearly left him, and he slumped back down, whimpering as the movement jarred his wounds.
"You must not faint,” came the clear voice above him. "Let my words be a rope to bind you to life, do you hear?”
"I hear you,” he whispered. "Keep talking to me.”