"Full Circle" Chapter 13

Darius pointed to a small satchel as Methos packed items in his tent to prepare once more to move. “Leave that.”

Methos nodded silently. He was not the same man he had been seven years before; he was full of long silences, deferential to both Darius and Grayson and looked to any outsider who saw him like the slave he was. He still plotted and schemed to escape in the dead of night and dreamed of revenge for what Grayson had done to him as he played his part out. He could only wait and play the part until an opportunity arose to make his move.

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He had been left hanging, unconscious, still strapped to the trees once the whipping had concluded, his body looking like the bloody pulp of the inside of a pomegranate. Not a piece of skin had remained intact upon him as had been ordered; his body had been completely latticed with the markings from the lash.

When he came to, he saw that the bonfire was now a small blaze and that Darius was sitting quietly observing him as his body slowly mended itself before his eyes, leaving behind no trace of any trauma that had been there before. “What are you looking at? Surely you’ve seen it happen before,” Methos said to him.

“I think of this as an experiment,“ Darius said quietly. “Not many that have gone through what you have gone through by my command, have lived.“

Methos winced as he tried to move; his muscles and body still screamed out in pain but it slowly ebbed away to nothing as more and more of him mended. “I wonder why that is, that I lived through this then? I ask you, do you think it might mean I’m immortal?”

Darius half smiled but said nothing.

“Just what do you want from me, Darius? What do I have that you don’t that is so important for you to keep me imprisoned for all these years?”Methos’ voice began to show his returning strength as well as his irritation. He shook his bindings in frustration and anger.

Darius glanced at him then back at his body, seeing the pieces of flesh come together like pieces of a vast puzzle as they knitted itself back up. “What I want is your knowledge of what lies outside Rome’s borders as well as her defensive structure. I am going to force you to keep your word to me.”

He got up, stirred the fire then went and got a small bowl filled with water and a scrap of cloth. He then brought it to Methos, laying it on the ground and cut him loose. “Here, clean yourself up.” Methos collapsed to all fours on the ground and held that position as he swayed in place. The world was spinning and the recovery from his wounds sapped at his strength. He willed himself to a sitting position and looked himself over. Rivers and tributaries of dried blood ran over him in both large and small amounts while the wide lash marks which hadn’t healed gaped open revealing his pummeled muscles and tissue underneath. “Why are you doing this?” he asked in wonder.

“To prove to you that I am not the man you think I am. I am a warrior, true. I revel in the blood, the glory of a fight well fought, the strategies used to win. I love a good fight and hunger for the power that others have.”

Methos slowly reached out for the rag, picked it up, and began washing off the blood as he thought about what Darius had said. He drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “Be very careful about what you desire, Darius. You might get it, then much later it may come back to haunt you when you least expect it to.”

Intrigued, Darius replied, “It happened to you?”

Methos just smiled. “If you say so.” To himself he said, “I’ll just make you wonder even more about me.” He so enjoyed playing with someonbe's mind. With Darius it proved to be a diversion--and a challenge.

Just then they both felt the presence of another. Grayson came out of the shadows and looked at both of them as one eyebrow quirked upwards. “Am I—interrupting something?”

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Methos held the horses while Darius with a cloak pulled over his head spoke to Grayson. He tried to ease his way closer to eavesdrop on the two to see if there might be a chance yet of his escaping. He concentrated hard on what words could be heard and tried to make sense of the little he could understand.

“—To see what the mood is of the people towards me as well as towards Alaric,” Darius replied to his son’s unsaid question. “Once I determine that, then I will decide what, if any, action will be taken against the king.”

“Do you still want him dead for sending you away seven years ago?” Grayson asked as Darius slipped an arm about his shoulders and guided him away from where Methos stood much to Methos’ chagrin.

Darius shrugged non-committally while his face reflected the hunger of a wolf while tracking its’ prey. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Times change as do people. Maybe he has learned that I was right all along.” He smiled. “We shall soon see.”

Grayson looked back over his shoulder at Methos. “I don’t trust him father. Will he go with you or will he stay?”

Darius looked back at him too then back at Grayson. “I don’t trust either of you,“ he thought to himself. “One of you would kill the other and I need both of you to make my dreams work.” He replied simply, “He stays—there is too much risk of him escaping while with me.”

Grayson nodded. “It might be good that he stays then. Perhaps he could teach me a few things that are different than what you teach. Providing of course, that I don’t take his head first.”

Darius snapped his head around at the comment. “Be careful of him. He is one of the Old Ones, I suspect, and is much more than what he seems. He will play you for a fool if you let him.” He paused as he thought a moment. “Perhaps it would be better if he accompanies me—the Vandals are about these days and two are better protected than one man alone. “

“That is not a good idea—he might just try to take your head and then flee, father.”

Darius looked down at the ground then around at the landscape before somberly replying, “I’d like to see him try to take my head. I’d like to see him try.”