The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (22 page)

“
Now, youngsters, the hardest part of our journey is done. It is literally all downhill from this point (well, nearly all downhill, but on average, all downhill) to the borders of the Roman Empire, and safety. We will go to the town of Drobeta, at Trajan’s mighty bridge over the Danuvius, and from there take a boat downriver to Constantia and the Euxine Sea; from there, a sailing ship to Constantinople.” He turned and beamed at Javor. “We’re almost home.”

Chapter 14
: The Roman outpost

The mountains were behind them, the breeze hinted at coming chill, but the sun was warm on their right shoulders. Javor could see clusters of oak trees interspersed with meadows; in the distance to the south, the land turned into a wide plain. To the north, a rocky outrider of the mountains reached, shadowy and grim. Behind it, the mountains receded, darkening, their tops lost in clouds.
Is a storm coming?

“
At last, the first signs of civilization: the border-town of Drobeta,” said Photius. Javor and Danisa squinted eastward at a smudge on the side of a hill just at the edge of the horizon. Was that a broad river running just in front of it, winding across his field of vision? At that distance, Javor couldn’t be sure. But the road didn’t lead that way.

“
What’s that?” Danisa asked, pointing where the road curved toward the shoulder of the mountains. There was some kind of structure, bigger and more impressive than anything Javor had ever seen before. It was a massive pile of rock, purposely piled, obviously the hand of man. Since he had never seen any building larger than the hetman’s lodge in his village, Javor couldn’t imagine how people could construct anything so huge.

“
Our immediate destination,” Photius answered in his usual grand way. “An ancient Roman fortress, once abandoned, and now, it seems, re-occupied.” A thin plume of smoke rose above the structure.

Photius strode purposefully down the slope, following the road rather than cutting across the curve. Shrugging, Javor followed him. Danisa looked at both of them, then trotted to catch up. Photius as usual prattled on, the bronze end of his walking stick tapping a regular punctuation.

“
The Empire once held sway over all these lands, children, and the area beyond the mountains as well, even the lands where your village now stands, Javor. As I have mentioned before, the province of Dacia was lost centuries ago to barbaric tribes.

“
The Emperor then set the northern boundary of the Empire at the great river Danuvius, all the way from Germania to the mouths of the river into the Euxine Sea,” Photius went on, waving his right arm vaguely southward. “You can’t see it, quite, from here, but the Danuvius is that way, too, across that plain. So you see, we are now very close to safety in the civilized world.”

Javor was only half-listening to Photius, but something bothered him. “If the border is still miles away, why are we heading for that fortress?”

Photius stopped, turned, and leaning on his staff, said wryly “Because we really don’t have a choice in that matter.” As he said that, Javor could see over Photius’ shoulder two riders galloping down the road toward them. Quietly, so that Danisa could not hear, he said “Hide your amulet and dagger, Javor, quickly.”

Javor stepped behind Photius and tucked his grandfather’s sheathed dagger under his trousers. He touched his amulet, making certain it was still out of sight under his tunic. Then he straightened to see the riders had come much closer in just a few seconds.

They took Javor’s breath away. Their armour burned golden in the sunlight and their bright red capes fluttered wildly behind them as their horses rushed closer.

Alarmed, Javor reached for his sword, but Photius’ hand on his wrist told him not to. The older man seemed pleased by the strange armed men rushing toward them, almost smiling as they got within easy spear range and then closer, pulling up just out of sword-thrust from the walking trio.

Their horses were bigger than any Javor had ever seen, and they wore bronze armour on their foreheads and chests. Leather straps ran from their mouths, and others crossed their chests, meeting at more bronze armour plates.

The riders were the most magnificent men that Javor had ever seen. Their polished steel armour, overlapping plates over their shoulders and torso, shone like silver in the sun, and gorgeous scarlet capes billowed out behind them, fastened at their shoulders with bronze disks. Steel armour protected their lower legs and forearms, and their shining iron helmets were trimmed with what Javor thought must be gold. Each had great long flaps on the side, and Javor thought of a hound’s ears. But he didn’t laugh.

Each horseman held out a spear, one pointing at Javor and the other at Photius. “Halt!” said one sternly in a voice like a bear’s. “Who approaches the border of the Empire?”

While he didn’t understand the language, Javor could by now recognize it as Latin. Photius answered. “I am Photius of Constantinople, son of Clementus, Roman citizen.” That part, Javor understood, but not much of what followed. “I am returning after extended travel beyond the borders on official reconnaissance.”

“
And your companions?” The spears did not waver.

“
This is Danisa, daughter of a chief of the north whom we rescued from barbaric rites. And this is Janus, my bodyguard.” Javor was startled by the lie about his name, but didn’t show it. Photius, though, looked pleasant and completely at ease.
He lies well.
“Can you tell me, good sir, how far are we from the River Danuvius?”

Under the helmet, deep brown eyes brooded. Then the horseman who had spoken raised his spear till the tip pointed straight up; his companion copied him. Apparently they were accepted as, if not friends, at least not immediate threats. “It is still several leagues south.”

“
And whom am I addressing?” Photius asked in his politest voice.

“
I am Manius Meridius, Equite with the Fifth Legion. Come with us to the fort,” said the lead rider. The two men made clicking sounds and the horses turned as if man and horse were one animal. They began an easy walk back along the road. Javor, Danisa and Photius had to hustle to keep up.

“
I am, I admit, somewhat surprised to see the fort occupied,” said Photius conversationally to the leading horseman, who didn’t reply. “It was not the custom, I believe, for Imperial garrisons to occupy emplacements outside the borders.” Still no reply. “How long have you been in this region?”

“
Legate Valgus brought us hither these twelvemonths,” said Manius Meridius.

“
Oh really?” Photius raised an eyebrow at Javor. “I have been away for some time. And who did you say your commander was?”

“
Legate Decius Valgus,” the Equite grunted.

“
And, I take it from your uniforms, you are an Imperial cohort, rather than an auxiliary?”

“
Obviously.”

“
Oh, are you Laconic, then?”

“
Quiet, or I’ll bind you.”

Javor was glad of the Roman’s order for silence. He concentrated on the fortress.

It suffered with every step closer. Imposing from a distance, the grey stone walls were weathered and crumbling in several places, although the new inhabitants had tried to make repairs. One wall had completely toppled, and Javor saw dark streaks on the stones.
Burned
? A screen of logs had been erected in its place, their tops sharpened.

But the gate remained intact—remained, to Javor, very imposing. A ditch surrounded the walls, spanned by a new-looking wooden bridge that was really just a series of planks joined with iron braces. Javor was looking at the first drawbridge he had ever seen. It had no railings on the side, nothing to prevent someone or something from toppling over the side.

The bridge ended at a very stout-looking solid wood gate reinforced with iron. On each side were massive stone columns, and over it a stone platform held stern armoured men. More soldiers stood on either side of the gate, spears ready and shields at their sides. At a nod from Meridius, the guards moved aside, still standing stiff at attention, and the gate creaked open.

Inside the fortress, Javor was struck by the quiet of the place. There were more people than he had ever seen together in one place before. The inside of the fort was really a fully functioning village, with craftsmen and a forge and bakery and kitchens—but hardly any human voices. Men, women and children walked here and there, gathered near walls, stared at the newcomers. But they barely spoke. They stayed near walls and doorways and only furtively moved to the open areas.

Javor heard the gate rumbling and scraping shut behind them again, the clop-clop and slapping of the door-wardens driving donkeys to turn the great spoked wheel that moved the gate, heard the clopping of Meridius’ horse’s hooves and those of Danisa’s, Photius’ and his own feet in the dust, rustling and clattering as people moved about their business, jingling of fittings and armour, and only sparse, hushed conversation.
It’s like they’re hiding from something outside the walls.

The legionnaires dismounted. With the silent legionnaire behind them holding his spear, Meridius led the three travellers to a high inner building, also made of crumbling stone, also temporarily repaired with logs or planed wooden boards. It was a grim-looking affair with a row of stingy-looking openings for windows high above their heads. It was the first time that Javor had ever seen a two-storey building.

Four legionnaires with spears stood on either side of high double doors that opened onto a wide stone landing at the top of three broad steps. Above them was a wide opening for air, covered with a screen made of thin wooden strips. On either side were painted insignia of the Imperium. It seemed that the original builders had made hasty attempts to make the place look grand, then abandoned it. The overall effect was sadness.

One door scraped open as Meridius approached. “Wait here,” he said without pausing, and disappeared inside. The guards formed a circle around Photius, Javor and Danisa, holding their spears butt-down and not looking directly at the prisoners.
Why did Photius want to come here
? Photius smiled at the guards complacently. Javor could feel his grandfather’s dagger under his trousers.

He could not take his eyes, though, from the guards’ polished armour.
I have never seen any metal shine so bright.
He could see his own reflection in the silvery breastplate ...

“
Back up, country boy!” growled a Legionnaire. Javor realized he was so close to the man, his nose was almost touching the armour. Several legionnaires looked very uncomfortable.

They didn’t have to wait long. Meridius appeared in the doorway, holding his helmet under his arm. “The Legate wishes to see you.” He held up a hand as they stepped forward. “You must leave your weapons aside.”

Javor felt alarmed again at this—they would be completely at the legion’s mercy. But Photius complacently put down his long bow, shrugged off his pack, unbuckled his sword belt and dagger and placed them all at the feet of one legionnaire. He then smiled at Javor. Javor shrugged, then put down his pack and weapons, too. But he kept the dagger under his trousers and the amulet around his neck. Danisa, weaponless, looked at the legionnaires calmly.

“
What about the staff?” Meridius growled.

“
Surely you wouldn’t deny an old man his walking-stick?” said Photius, and at that moment, he looked even older and more frail.

“
If you walked over the
Montes Serrorum,
you don’t need a walking-stick indoors,” Meridius growled. “Come!” he barked and turned on his heel, not doubting that the travelers followed.

Photius leaned his staff against the side of the door, and Danisa and Javor followed him into a wide, open room. The air inside was stuffy, occasionally alleviated by a draft from the open windows and screens high above. On either side of the doorways, staircases—the first staircases that Javor had ever seen—rose to galleries that ran along opposite walls, just under the small, mean windows Javor had seen from outside. He was fascinated by the semi-cylindrical shapes of the columns that rose up the walls to support the barrel ceiling, lost in shadows.

Light filtered in from the high windows and the screened opening, and was bolstered by torches flickering in sconces on the walls and a brazier burning in the middle of the room. Beyond the brazier was a small stone platform, and on it was a great wooden chair with a high back. On either side were Roman standards, red and purple and gold on ornate poles, and beside them were two more fully armed legionnaires, standing at attention.