Field of Mars (The Complete Novel) (26 page)

Rufinius opened his eyes and saw his former slave poised over him.

“What horror is this?” he croaked.

Mena, holding a basin of salves for his blisters and other wounds, was far from impressed. “Insults! That’s what I get for bringing you back from the dead?”

“Though you are not the easiest of sights to bear, Mena, it is good to see you,” Rufinius conceded, his voice cracked and broken.

“If that is your apology, then I accept it. The play of night shadows from the candles does my appearance no favors.”

She brought a cup of warm broth to his lips. The water was boiled with various herbs and powders bought and stolen from others in the baggage train.

“What ails me?” Rufinius inquired as he sipped.

“The sun had begun to cook your internals. Another hour in its heat and you would not be with us.”

“How many days have passed since the lottery?”

“Three.”

“Have we marched?”

“The Xiongnu stop for nothing.”

“How is it that you are here?” Rufinius asked.

“I petitioned Saikan, whose fortune I have foretold.”

“Why did the desert not take my life?”

“You were not fated to die, obviously. And, as I pointed out to the general, both your fortunes are tied. If he was to leave you dead, his own tomorrow might be cursed. Also, there were petitions from a council of centurions to Saikan who feared the mood of the men if you were to depart for the underworld.”

“You can no more tell fortunes or weave magic than Carbo,” said Rufinius managing a weak smile.

“If men believe strongly enough in a certain path, who is to say they don’t influence its taking? As for magic, are you not breathing when all believed you on death’s stoop?”

“I’ll not deny you are a witch, Mena.” He placed a hand on her arm. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, fellow slave.” She lifted his head and made him drink some more of the tepid broth.

He coughed and lay back. “What are our fortunes, Saikan’s and mine? How are they tied?”

“So you believe enough to be inquisitive …”

“Call it curious.” Rufinius felt his strength returning by the moment.

“General Saikan and you will die on the same day.”

“And you know this for fact?”

“I can see it, a day of infinite glory. There will be a momentous battle. You will allow yourself to be struck down by a man from another world in full sight of both armies.”

“A man from another world?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“And I will
let
myself be killed?” he asked, incredulous.

“I cannot tell you how or why.”

“Why not?”

“It has not been revealed to me.”

“I ask again – you know this will come to pass because …?”

“I am old and the gods let me see things.” She gestured at her face. “Compensation for giving me the appearance of a bad dream, perhaps.”

“I see no ugliness.”

“Next you’ll ask me to be your wife.”

“Unlikely.” He managed a grin. “Well, if Saikan believes you can see what is hidden from mortals, and I am here in your care because he believes it, that’s enough for me. At least for now.”

“I will tell the men that you’re back with us,” said Mena, getting up.

“No, let me.”

“You should rest.”

“I’ve been resting for days, have I not?” Rufinius pushed himself to a seated position and the sudden movement caused a fearsome pounding between his ears.

“Drink down all the broth I have made,” Mena said as Rufinius held his head. “Before I go … the Golden Whore asked after you with more than casual interest.”

“Her name is Lucia and she is no whore.”

“Is not her name Andica?”

“Never mind. How do you know her?”

Mena grinned. “Well, well. Interest returned with interest.”

“No games, Mena. How does she fare?”

“You need not worry about that one. She and her sisters are better cared for than even the most exotic animals.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“I chanced upon a few moments of her company when her guards were derelict in their duty, off sampling the delights of Roman comfort. She was most concerned for your health.”

“I have been with her.”

“I know.”

“Don’t tell me you have seen it!”

“No, Andica … Lucia told me. She also said that you should beware of Overseer Nonus.”

“That is already plain.”

“Nonus drugged some guards one night and tried to have carnal relations with her, but she is experienced enough to know the best means of discouragement.”

Rufinius frowned. “She is not harmed?”

“No, but you could not say the same for Nonus.”

“When was this?”

“Some little while ago. Before the lottery.”

Rufinius recalled the vicious scratches on Nonus’s face. “I have seen her work on his face. Why do I only hear of it now?”

“What could you do? What can be done?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll think on it.”

“I’ll return and come better prepared next time,” said Mena. “The overseer spoke of you before attempting to overpower her. He saw the two of you in the arena jousting for the slave master’s pleasure. Raping her is a means of punishing you. I know this, for the word is he prefers not women but girls who have yet to bleed. He enjoys inflicting pain on them and there is much anger about it in the baggage train.”

Rufinius considered this news with consternation.

Mena continued. ”It was Nonus who brought Andica to General Saikan’s attention when he was hunting for gifts for his king. Everything he does is measured by his rancor for you … What bad blood has generated such enmity?”

“He is a man who loves to hate. I am just the current object of his particular lust.” Rufinius considered a possibility once beyond his imagining. “Mena, do you know a potion that could send Lucia’s guards to sleep?”

“They barely need encouragement, but yes, of course.”

“On a night when there is no moon, administer it and then come for me.”

Mena nodded agreement.

“And if you should see Lucia again, thank her for the warning.”

“I will pass it along.”

The former master and slave embraced. “And thank you also, Mena,” said Rufinius.

Taken aback by his show of affection, Mena pushed through the flap and disappeared into the night. Uncertain on his feet, Rufinius left the tent behind her and saw the men of his contubernium sitting around talking, their practice swords stuck idle in the sand.

“Why are drills stalled?” Rufinius picked up a sword and, leaning against the tent pole, swung it slowly. “Appias, are you now such a gladiator that practice is beneath you? Are my orders ignored the second my back is turned?”

Carbo looked at Rufinius as if he had unexpectedly returned from Hades itself. “Primor!” He jumped to his feet. “The hag’s magic worked!”

Dentianus, Libo, and Appias also stood and came to Rufinius and forearms were clasped.

“Come and sit,” Dentianus insisted.

“No, I have been lying around enough for a whole lifetime.”

“You were asking for trouble drawing a lot in my place,” said Appias.

“In truth I thought there would be no consequence,” Rufinius replied.

“I wish to thank you.”

“No one from our century drew a white pebble,” Dentianus added. “You didn’t need to step forward, primor.”

“My luck was bad. Perhaps if I’d drawn a white, no one at all would have been beheaded.”

Libo placed a hand on Rufinius’s shoulder. “When they took you away, we believed you would soon be dining with the gods. Are you okay? You don’t look it.”

“A plate of stout Parthian beans and I’ll be fine.”

*

A cornicen attached to command sounded, its song picked up and carried throughout the rest of the legion. Rufinius, marching alongside the First Cohort and sharing in the privations of the men, hoped he would have the strength to last the day. But then Translator Bataar arrived, with a spare horse tied to his saddle.

“Come …” he said in Latin, handing Rufinius the reins.

Wondered what was required of him now, the tribune climbed with difficulty onto the animal’s shaggy back and rode beside the translator.

“You speak Latin now,” he said.

“This much.” Bataar showed him a small space between thumb and forefinger.

The two men rode in silence to the Xiongnu banners, waving in the dust, where General Saikan, accompanied by his officers, rode atop weary horses dragging their feet in the sand.

“Masters do not apologize to slaves,” the general said with his eyes holding the horizon when Rufinius drew beside him. “Do not disobey me again.”

“Don’t put me in a place where I must disobey,” Rufinius said, and Bataar translated his reply after giving the tribune a look of disbelief.

The men rode in silence for some time. Eventually, Saikan said, “Though I am not pleased with you, I am relieved that you did not perish.”

“I’m relieved you didn’t allow me to perish.”

“In nature, Alexandricus, there is always an opposite. Water and fire; night and day; heat and cold. Without one, there cannot be the other. This is how chaos is ordered.”

“Are you talking about Nonus?” Rufinius asked.

“You are stronger because of him.”

“And you have lost five good legionaries because of him.”

“Without bad there can be no good,” Saikan replied. “Yin and Yang. It is a Han philosophy, but that is the world.”

“What else will you lose because of him?”

“What else will I gain?”

Rufinius looked at the general, whose eyes were still fixed straight ahead. “I am told our fates are tied.”

“So says the witch. Each of us has a core of the other.”

“I will be sure to reserve a seat for you on the Ferryboat to Hades,” said Rufinius.

“And I will greet you in the Eternal Blue Sky.”

Rufinius could not help but grin.

“The witch was your slave?” said Saikan. “I have never seen an uglier woman.”

“There is beauty within.”

“Ugliness and beauty,” Saikan observed with a nod. “Yin and Yang.” Finally, he turned back to Rufinius. “It will be difficult for you to be a slave on the one hand and command men on the other. These are your own personal counterparts.”

“Yes,” Rufinius agreed.

“Be careful when you engage in battle, Tribune,” the general said, mirth in his eyes. “If you die, as you know, it will go badly for me also.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, General. And what of the deserters?”

“The tracks of the runaway slaves could not be followed. They curved away to the north and east and then disappeared in the sand. The scouts of my Parthian friends believe your legionaries will head toward the setting sun, toward lands ruled by Rome. What do you think?”

Rufinius recalled Fabianus’s fear about his soul being lost from the sight of the gods. “I can’t be sure. Your scouts might be right, but the deserters know Rome holds nothing for them.”

“A waste.”

Rufinius agreed, but not because a dead slave was a lost investment. Fabianus had been a good optio and, at least until the aftermath at the slave camp, they had worked together well enough.

“My Parthian friends tell me that we will find the edge of the desert in less than three days,” said Saikan.

“What lies beyond it?”

“Barren hills and valleys and more desert. But the worst of the dust will be behind us. At least for a time.”

*

Two days hence and shortly before the end of the day’s march, it was Carbo who first spotted the carrion birds circling high. Parthian scouts saw them next and galloped forward to the area beneath their flight. Soon the column itself approached the site, the birds having been chased off with a volley of well-aimed Parthian arrows. Lying on the sand, stiff as marble statues, were the remains of Fabianus and eleven others, their throats cut deep.

“A disagreement among them?” Libo wondered.

“If so, an argument Fabianus and his supporters lost,” Appias remarked.

General Saikan rode up to inspect the corpses and Rufinius joined him. “Hardly the work of the desert, General,” he said.

“Where are the other slaves who ran with these?”

Rufinius gestured at the bloodied, flyblown corpses. “Perhaps heading in a different direction to one these men wanted.”

“How should their deaths be honored?” asked the general.

“Do as every legionary here would wish in his heart. To be buried as a Roman.”

That night, the bodies of the twelve dead legionaries, each wrapped in oiled linen and with Charon’s obol in the mouth, were placed on a pyre made from the wood poles used to support the walls of the tents.

Mena was given twelve chickens to sacrifice to the gods in the legionaries’ names and, much to the army’s relief, the exta of every bird was found to be in glowing health.

Rufinius spoke of the deeds of Fabianus, and men selected from the contuberniums of the other eleven deceased also spoke.

The pyre was then lit, the army in attendance, the ceremony bathed in the light from a cold silver moon. The legionaries were pleased with the respect paid to their comrades, knowing that they too would be well sent off when their time came. And when the fires burned out, the remains of the men were placed in urns and given to the master of the baggage train to store until stone could be procured for cenotaphs and the urns then properly buried.

“What do you think of the observances paid, historian?” Rufinius asked Appias as the army retired at last for the night.

“Now the men know the gods will see them, no matter how far the army marches east.”

“Then wherever the spirit of Fabianus resides, I hope it is well satisfied.”

The night air was clearer in the foothills, the worst of the heat and the dust of desert plain behind the legions. Stars filled the night sky like a spray of sparkling gems, but the light was weak without the moon to power it.

On this night Mena ventured from the baggage train and came forth through the darker shadows to the army’s forward units. There she found Rufinius asleep in the tent’s doorway, snoring gently, his limbs again accustomed to the rigors of the march.

Placing a bony hand on the tribune’s shoulder, she shook it until his eyes finally came open and he started, disoriented, in the twilight of sleep, his body flinching when he gained sight of his former slave. Mena placed her finger against her lips to caution silence and backed out of the tent.

Rufinius came to her, stretching his back. “You unnerved my very soul, hag.”

“None of your barbs!” she hissed. “Do you wish to see a certain someone or not? I am here as promised, the moon no longer with us. It is now or never.”

The tribune placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her thin bones a squeeze. “Now is good,” he said, excited at the prospect of seeing Lucia. “But let us venture there by separate paths so that if there is trouble, you will not be implicated.”

Mena agreed. “I will meet you in the center of the train where the most precious cargo is quartered. Look for the wagons ringed by guards. Their heads should be resting on their chests by now.” From the folds of her shawl she brought forth a small earthen flask with a rag stopper.

Rufinius walked the quarter mile down the ranks, passing the evening’s watchword to Roman sentries where necessary, and avoiding Parthian guards and overseers whenever possible.

The aromas that rose from the baggage train were different to those that distinguished the men. The legions smelled of sour man-sweat, beans, and urine, the baggage train smelled of camel and horse sweat and varieties of dung. But with the breeze at his back, it was the unfamiliar grunt of an exotic animal that told Rufinius he neared the destination.

Avoiding the wagons housing the two lions, he ventured near another and a sudden guttural growl gave him fright. Then, a shadow blacker than the night itself spun around and leaped past the small barred window and snarled loudly. A black leopard.

Rufinius continued further into the parked wagons and came upon a snoring guard slumped against a wheel. Above him, on the side of the wagon and dimly visible in the starlight were painted human figures copulating, the woman’s hair as red as flame.

Keeping to the shadows, Rufinius moved to the next painted wagon, housing the Black Whore, and listened to the night.

“Where do you go, Tribune?” questioned a voice from the shadows.

Rufinius kept surprise from his reply. “No business of yours, Nonus.”

The overseer stepped into the tribune’s path. “You are a long way from your place in the ranks.”

“Do you follow me?”

“I have better things to do with my night. Why are you here?”

“I see no chains keeping me bound to my tent,” said Rufinius.

“There are no slave legionaries for you to command among the wagons.”

“I have not reviewed the commerce that the centuries will in time be asked to defend and know little of numbers or composition. Now, when there is no marching to be done and the air is cool, seems a good time to conduct a head count.”

“When there is no light to see by?”

“There is no requirement on me to answer any questions you may have.”

“Am I an imbecile? I know there is someone you have a special interest in, slave. I just came from her wagon, doing my rounds, and all her guards were asleep like this one here. And now I find you close by. Surely that is no coincidence. I wonder if there is something else on your mind other than head counts.”

“Make your accusations. They carry no weight with me. Now, I will continue without harassment.”

“Do you know how the Xiongnu execute their enemies?” Nonus inquired. “Hands and feet are tethered to horses facing north, south, east, and west and the horses are startled to a gallop …”

“What is your point?”

“The golden whore, the one I saw you fucking for the slave master’s delight. If you are making your way to her wagon be warned. This woman is now a legally purchased slave bound for the bedroom of the Xiongnu King, not yours. If you are caught with her I will see that you find yourself heading in four directions at once.”

Anger flared in Rufinius such that he wished there was a gladius within reach. “There is word this same Golden Whore turned you into a shrieking woman.”

“That is a lie,” Nonus snapped.

“Indeed, how can it be true?” said Rufinius. “You have a known predilection for girls who are barely off their mother’s breast and cannot defend themselves. Your habits are despised among those who travel in the train. You know how
they
execute their enemies, Nonus? Slowly and painfully, the means added to food and water. If I walked in your skin, I would be careful what I put in my mouth.”

Somewhere close, a lion yawned noisily. The choices now open to Rufinius were minimal and he knew it. So he turned and retraced his steps, fury burning in his chest.

Nonus also turned away, but with the glow of victory spreading through him.

*

Waiting for Rufinius, Mena watched helpless as Nonus stepped from the shadows and confronted the tribune. The two adversaries talked in low voices that did not carry but the animosity between them needed no words. After Rufinius departed, the overseer went to Andica’s wagon and stood there for several minutes, perhaps considering action, before striding into the night.

*

After the following day’s march, when the sound of exhausted men sleeping rose from the centuries, Mena again came to Rufinius. The two walked in the cool night air, away from the tents. “The overseer Nonus has chosen the means of bringing you the most pain. He has his eyes on Lucia,” Mena said.

“How do you know this?” asked Rufinius.

“Just accept that I know it. I have looked into his heart and seen the poison.”

“I will find the means to kill him.”

“No, you can’t have a hand in it.”

“And why not?”

“Because then you will leave General Saikan with no choice. Execution by his hand is not the path for either of you.”

“I don’t believe in your witchcraft.”

“Lucia needs your help,” the hag said. “The overseer watches her wagon, biding his time. When there is again no moon, I am sure he will return.”

Rufinius sifted through his thoughts as they walked and the seedling of a plan germinated. Perhaps the gods had given his reconnoiter of the baggage train a different purpose. “Could Nonus be convinced that Lucia has changed her heart and might welcome an advance?”

“Perhaps if she were to deliver it. His ego dwarfs an elephant.”

“I have some thoughts I can share. We will need the services of an artisan.”