It's a Love Thing (50 page)

“
Decebalus’ head putrefied
on the Gemonian Stairs as he deserved. No one defying Rome goes
unpunished. Alone for being his bastard, you should’ve died with
your father.”

“
And what makes you any
less a bastard?” I’m back next to her. I only need one hand to wrap
my fingers around her long neck. Hate and rage cloud my mind. A
little more pressure and I can break it before she blinks. “Your
pig of a father masquerades you as a niece, but we know the truth
of it. At least my father wasn’t ashamed of who I was.”

Nerva tries to loosen my fingers on
her throat. When she can’t, her arms beat the air, like a bird in
distress.

“
You’re killing her.”
Bastisza’s hand on my shoulder shakes me; it’s all I need to snap
out of it. “Her time hasn’t come. Yet.”

I stand and walk away, leaving Nerva
coughing and laying on the ground. I hate how she made me lose
control. I hate it. I’m so wound up I take first watch. Wouldn’t be
able to slumber anyway. Everyone must be tired for no one says
another word. Soon, along with crickets, there are five different
snores filling the night. Once in a while I hear howls, but as long
as we keep the fire going, wolfs won’t come too close.

To stay awake and calm myself I gather
more wood. It’s Galtys turn to take the watch. I slumber on my
sheepskin and my muscles scream in pain. I toss and turn, the
thought of Nerva being cold nagging at me. I shouldn’t care, yet
here I am, getting up and walking to where I tied her down. I cut
the rope and carry her to the fire. She shivers in my arms, but she
doesn’t fight me.

My sheepskin is large enough to lay
Nerva on it and I could easily fit next to her. But I won’t. I’d
rather be fed to the lions than lay with a Roman woman. She lays on
her side, facing me. I tie her right wrist to my left, and cover
her up. The fire is behind her back. Her large eyes follow my every
move. I lay on my back, my free arm bent under my head. The tall
grass offers softness, but I’m so tired I could slumber standing. I
glance again at Nerva and she watches me intensely. I don’t know
how to read her face, but it’s clearly not hate.

“
Who else knows I’m not . .
. I’m not Traianus’ niece?”

“
Only my men here. You
needn’t worry. Your secret will follow them to their
graves.”

Nerva sighs. “I’m not worried. At
times I want the world to know. I wouldn’t be forced into a
marriage I resent body and spirit.”

I almost say her days are numbered and
marriage shan’t distress her any longer, but I’m in no mood to deal
with a frantic woman.

“
Sleep.”

*****

We’ve been up and gone since before
dawn. Time is of the essence. I need to arrive at our camp and
ensure my army is organized before Traianus gets there. They were
ready when we left a few days ago, but I still feel at ease when
I’m among them, not away from them. If my estimation is correct, we
should have four more days and nights riding.

I gave Traianus ten days to get to the
battlefield. That gives us an advantage of several days if we keep
the same steady pace. It’s enough time for him to get there, but
not enough time to call for more forces. He has to rely only on the
garrisons at hand—two of them—for his out of control military
campaign has his legions fighting elsewhere.

When we stop it’s around noon. We find
another stream and men and horses get a boost of needed energy. The
water is freezing, but it feels good to get clean. I wash my shirt
and let it dry in the sun. It’s another cloudless day. While my men
finish cleaning up, I hunt for the morning meal. I make good use of
my bow and arrows, returning with two young pheasants.

I don’t know how Vipero
does it, but aside from being a fearless warrior, he knows how to
cook. Feathers fly up in the air as he plucks the pheasants. After
our confrontation with the Sarmatians last autumn, when his neck
injury almost killed him, we’ve heard they call him
Hermes
for his speed and
once again he doesn’t disappoint. Since this will be our only meal
until tonight, Vipero cooks polenta bread, completing our meal with
dried fruits, nuts, and wine.

I leave the camp for a bit, walking up
the stream. I need all the walking I can get before we saddle. I
wander deep into the woods; my heart beats to the wind’s rustle,
the water’s swirl, the vulture’s cry. Soon all this land shall
return to us, into the hands of Dacians where it’s belonged since
before my father’s father and their longfathers.

Back in the camp I find my men taking
turns arm wrestling. Nerva is gone.

“
Where is she? Where?” My
voice stops everyone in their game. I have my dagger out and
whistle for my horse, fuming at my men for being so careless. There
will be hell to pay if I can’t find her.

“
She ain’t gone nowhere,”
Ursus motions toward the stream, “She’s by the water.”

“
Why isn’t one of you with
her? Why?” On my way to the water I grab my shirt and put it on.
Galtys is right in my path. My shoulder bumps his when I say,
“Mount. We’re leaving.”

It’s quite a distance before I find
Nerva resting on a log. I now understand why my men didn’t bother
to watch over her. She won’t be able to make it far with the gash
in the ball of her right foot. Her hair shines in the sun, wet and
braided to the side. My shirt hangs lose around her, one bare
shoulder revealing beautiful silky skin. The fine blue chemise she
wore two nights ago is torn in a few places; she has no other
clothing.

We don’t talk. She’s
refused each time I offered food, but she takes it from Bastisza. I
also offer wine, but she refuses it. Then Bastisza tries and she
accepts it. I’m determined to offer aid with the injury just
once
and I swear by
Zamolxis, if she doesn’t take it, I’m finished with her. I don’t
understand women anyway hence I give up. Bastisza shall handle her
from now on.

“
Let me see it.”

I expect her to refuse me, but to my
surprise she places her foot atop my knelt leg, grimacing when I
touch the skin around the cut. It’s deep and ugly. I try not to
look at her, but can’t miss the bruises around her ankles and
wrists. She flinches when I reach to lift her braid. My stomach
knots painfully when I see the horrible marks my fingers left on
her neck.

She was right to call me a
brute.

I whistle. Shortly my men bring my
mare.

I don’t need to say
anything and Zyraxes kneels next to me, examining Nerva’s wound.
Two lines form between his eyebrows as he confirms my suspicions—
the wound is infected. If anyone can help Zyraxes can. He’s saved
Ursus from losing his left arm to a poisonous arrow and sewn
Bastisza’s innards back after a scythe split him open. He
saved
me
.

Zyraxes brings his leather bundle he
treasures more than life, and pulls out a jar with a horribly
smelling paste. I know what he is about to do and dread
it.

“
It’s going to hurt,” he
says.

Nerva pales and tries to flee, but I’m
already behind her, holding her tight in my arms while Vipero and
Ursus hold onto her legs. She screams and fights us.

Is then when
Bastisza's
sica
swooshes by my ear and a mortal scream erupts behind me. The
blade rests in the middle of a man’s forehead behind a bush. We
move as one, guarding Nerva as we fight with three men. Somehow
they snuck closer to us, highly unusual for anyone to accomplish,
as we are always vigilant about our surroundings. They are thugs,
fighting barehanded; only one of them has a blade and stands no
chance when confronted by Ursus.

“
Have mercy, master, they
are but lambs—my sons,” the older one speaks. They kneel circled by
us.

They stink badly, are ill dressed and
barefoot. I take a closer look at them—the younger ones whimper;
tears leave streaks down their faces.

“
Hang them and get it over
with,” Galtys offers.

“
Master, please, have
mercy,” the toothless man says. “The Romans destroyed our village.
My wife and daughter have been slaughtered . . .” He cries outright
with slumped shoulders, then continues, “My sons and I went hunting
and when we returned . . . the village was ablaze. Since then we’ve
hidden in the woods, barely finding something to eat. I'm a good
hunter, I've fought under King Decebalus, but have no weapons. I
have to feed my children, please have mercy . . .”

The knowledge of yet another crime
committed by the Romans has my blood boiling in seconds. My men
turn toward Nerva, accusatory looks on their faces. She stands,
wobbling on one foot. Why she chooses this moment to move I cannot
fathom, but it distracts me. I'm not worried about her running away
as much as for the infected foot.

I focus on the thieves.

“
What's your
name?”

“
I'm Severinus, this is
Thrax, my oldest, and this one is Gruia, my youngest.”

“
How many other people have
you attacked?”

“
None, master, you're the
first. I was desperate.”

“
Take your clothes
off.”

The boys look hastily up at their
father and, at his nodding they get up and undress. He follows
suit, covering his manhood when completely naked.

“
Wash,” I motion toward the
stream.

My men laugh and cheer, always up for
some cheap amusement. I turn my attention on Nerva who averts her
face when the three naked males pass her then sits on the log
again.

“
Burn their
clothes.”

A quick fire swallows their clothing
before they return from the water.

“
One of King Decebalus’
soldiers, you say. Which battle?”

Severinus’ face hides behind a long
tangled beard, but his eyes light up as if reliving dear memories.
“Tapae and Sarmizegetusa. The fortress would stand even now if
Romans had not cut the water supplies. I’d fight them all over
again if given the chance.”

“
The gods have favored you
today for that’s where we go—to fight the Romans.” I turn to my men
and say, “Clothe them. The young ride with Galtys and Vipero.
Severinus takes the supplies horse.”

I walk toward Nerva who leans back,
dread on her face. Zyraxes and Bastisza follow me. I grab her and
cover her eyes with one hand, trying to be gentle, but she bites
me. Taking a better hold of her, I’m nodding at Zyraxes who holds
her right foot in one hand, ready to cut the infected
area.

Nerva’s scream outmatches the eagles
before she goes flaccid in my arms. I already bestow so much pain
upon her, I only wish I could suck it all out and protect her of
all pain.

Then it hits me. It hits me so hard, I
need a moment to catch my breath. She’s supposed to hurt. She’s
supposed to suffer. She needs to suffer for all the hurt I’ve
endured at the hands of her father. And I’m supposed to laugh and
enjoy seeing her agony. I’m supposed to feel liberated, fulfilling
my promise to my father, fulfilling my revenge. Then why does it
feel so wrong?

*****

“
I’m not leaving without
her.” It’s past midnight when we arrive at Aemirius’ sheepfold and
we are welcomed with a praiseworthy feast. Five huts built on the
side of the mountain shelter Aemirius’ people, who’ve raised sheep
for generations now. They stayed out of trouble and out of the
Romans way, too high up on the mountain, too peaceful to impose any
threat. They are the first people we’ve seen in days and the
reunion is warm and loud, as always. Aemirius’ sheep provide the
best clothing for my army. I’ve known him since Bastisza brought me
here shortly after my father’s death.

Vipero disappeared with his new bride
who jumped in his arms as soon as he dismounted. They’ve been apart
for quite some time and I don’t expect to see him before we are
ready to trek again. Bastisza, Aemirius and I sit by the fire, each
with a bottle of wine in hand.

Nerva slept almost the entire time
since Zyraxes tended to her wound two days ago. Whenever she came
out of it, he packed more paste into her wound. Aside from healing,
the paste keeps her in a haze. My arms are stiff from holding her
strapped to my saddle. I’m glad I trek light, without my armor; it
would’ve been impossible to hold her, too. She’s burning with fever
since sunset and nothing seems to aid, not even ancient spells
Miura knows and uses on the ill.

“
You mustn’t trek with her,
she’s too sick. Only Zamolxis can save her now.” Miura sits next to
Aemirius, her husband, and looks over the fire at me. With her
whiter-than-snow braid and leathered skin Miura looks to me now as
she looked when I first met her, with a kindness in her blue eyes
I’ve never seen elsewhere.

“
If we must, we stay a day
longer, but I can’t leave her here. She’s part of the
plot.”

“
What about our army?”
Bastisza turns toward me and I know if I look at him, he’ll see
right through me. I’ve wandered through Hades’ realm and back since
seeing what I did to Nerva. My mind wants her to suffer. My heart
wants to protect her, and I’m questioning for the first time if
I’ve done the right thing kidnapping her. I should’ve thought of a
different way to attack Traianus. I’ve loathed him for torturing
and killing women and children. What I’ve done to Nerva is no
different, and I’ve always thought of myself as a better person.
It’s between me and him this old bone to pick.