Firmus fought and snarled like a wild animal, but he could not buck off three of them. They bound him fast with leather cords and hauled him to his feet, keeping a firm grip on either side.
He felt marginal relief when Veers was dragged into his line of sight.
The General was still alive then.
He had also been bound with leather straps and they had added the indignity of a collar around his neck—no doubt enjoying what they saw as a reverse for the Roman in the hands of these Decleangli.
They laughed and joked in their lilting language. Then the man who was unmistakably their chief walked right up to Veers and spat in his face.
Firmus swore at him then, using his own language, and this earned him their focus.
“Oho,” the Chief said in the common tongue. “A traitor to the Island then. This will be all the more enjoyable.”
And with that he backhanded Piett.