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PART TWENTY-FOUR



As it happened, Maximus' concern that I conducted lessons with Catavignus outside the walls of the base were not unfounded. In the early morning hours of a day not even a week after the general gave voice to his worry, Phillip sent a message to me that I was needed in the hospital, and urgently. The messenger, after rousing me, and making sure I would be at the physicians' quarters soon, went for Maximus, to inform him there was a problem. It was more than a problem, I thought, as I made my way through surgeons and wounded men, to find the reason I had been summoned in the first place. Justinius had insisted I care for him, and was nearly unconscious from the spearhead and shaft protruding from his shoulder, just over his heart, and loss of blood.

He managed a weak grin and shrug, when I laid a hand on his brow, letting him know I was with him. His armor had been cut off, already, but the spear had pulled bits of the tunic underneath inside his chest. The location of the wound bothered me far more than the injury itself; the spearhead was rounded and easy enough to pull out. I worried about any arteries that it might have pierced.

"Is it that bad?" he whispered. "I'm not really sure I need to die, yet." He began to sit up, to see for himself the damage.

"I won't know until I pull the spear out. Lie still, please." I called for an assistant to get the things I would need, and waited for him to bring back the hottest water he could find, and a cauterizing tool. The slaves were already building the fires hotter. As my helper went out, Maximus stepped in. A look at Justinius caused the blood to drain from his face.

"What happened?"

"Don't ask him, right now. I need him to expend as little energy, as possible. He can tell you, later." Not bothering to argue with me, Maximus just sat heavily on the small bench beside the cot where Justinius lay. On the other side of the curtain, the moans and screams of men in pain reached our ears, as well as the soft tone of hushed doctors' voices, as they called out for bandages and implements. I glanced to Phillip, who was caring for Macrinus, stitching the centurion's side, where he had been sliced open with a sword. It was not deep, but he made no secret of the pain he was in, cursing the Greek physician, when Phillip accidentally jabbed him with a bone needle and vowing trouble for the attackers. I looked to Maximus, again. "Perhaps you should talk with him."

"It will wait. I'd rather have a full, factual account, without the interjection of emotion." I smiled, then became busy with my own charge, pouring boiling water over the broken spear-shaft, and letting it soften the skin, while I used part of what was left, to mix an unction that would allow Justinius to sleep, when I was finished. The other I set aside then offered the youth a hardened piece of ox hide to bite on, which he refused.

"I won't scream."

"All right. But if you do, I will tell everyone about it." Something resembling a laugh came out in the labored breath he took, and then he lay quiet, while I grasped the thick wood of the shaft. Maximus stood, and held Justinius' shoulders down. "Relax, and breathe," I reminded Justinius, " because this will hurt, when I move it. But if you brace yourself, it will be harder." He closed his eyes, and tried to trust me. I whispered to the slave helping me, to be ready to staunch the flow of blood, then gave the weapon a mighty tug, sliding it free of its target. Justinius grunted, but true to his word, he uttered no other sound, only fainted, when black-red blood gushed from the open wound. Taking over for the assistant, I let the blood soak into the cloth, and instructed him to heat the tile knife, while I probed the cut made by the sharp edges of the iron spearhead.

Handing the potion to Maximus, I instructed, "If he wakes, make him drink it." He took it from my hand, then turned his head, while I pulled the soaked fabric from his nephew's chest, and poured the rest of the water in increments over the gash, letting it wash bits of tissue and tunic away, with his blood. I glanced up and saw that Maximus was pale under his swarthy features, and suggested that he go outside, and leave me to my work.

"I'll stay here."

"You have seen much, but this makes you ill?"

"Always. I care too much for my men, I guess. And he's my brother's son. He may as well be mine." I understood. Maximus and Justinius might not have always seen eye-to-eye on matters, but their bond was strong. Joking light-heartedly, I informed him that Justinius was indeed a Meridas, and not easily killed off.

"You'll be glad to know that he will be all right, in a few weeks. It missed his artery, but was right up against it." Washing it with the last of the water, I prepared to sear out any infection, and sew it shut. Maximus helped me move Justinius to his own quarters, where he would have silence and comfort. Cassandra was waiting for us there, and listened carefully, while I prescribed treatment for the patient, during the time I would be helping care for the other soldiers. Outside the door, Maximus rubbed his beard wearily, the worries of the world weighing his wide shoulders down.

"I was hoping to leave Vindobona without incident," he said, more to himself, than to me. When we were away, I would be glad; Germania would be someone else's responsibility, and he would only have the unknown mysteries of Eire to think on. It hurt to see the pressure he was under deepen the fine lines in his forehead and around his eyes. I noticed too, the beginnings of silver strands through the deep sable locks of his hair, and thought perhaps it was time for his replacement to take over some of the duty, but he disagreed.

"When I am gone, he will have to. For now, he's watching and learning."

"Are you going to be able to let go, when it's time?"

He looked at me, surprised, then grinned. "Honestly, I don't know. It's been a part of me, so long, that I'm not sure how I will act, when it's no longer my concern."

"Let him take charge, now, and get yourself used to the idea. You need rest. The longer you keep control, the harder it will be to let go of it."

"Are you appointing yourself my advisor, now?" he smiled warmly. "Family physician is not enough for you?"

"I am telling you as such. Don't force me to put sleeping medicine in your wine." He arched an eyebrow, and I stared steadily back, daring him to argue with healers' wisdom.

"You know, I think I liked you better, when you said next to nothing."

"Then you should have kept me out of the clinic." My hand strayed to his arm, in some semblance of the comfort he had bestowed on me, so often. "You're a good leader, General. But sometimes, delegation of authority is a good thing. The officers are there to lighten your load. And visit the masseur."

"What would you know about leadership, Impudent Doctor?"

"If you're a very good boy, I will tell you, someday." Shooting him a mysterious grin, I turned and started to return to Phillip. His laughter followed me.

"I'll think on it."

"That's a start."

Morning patrol was always the least manned. It was early in the day, and trouble rarely came at that time. The tribes preferred the cover of darkness, but most everyone was inside the gates by then. They gained little by attacking families and harlots, so those were largely untouched, or led away as slaves. For several years, a tenuous peace had existed between the army and the tribes across the Danube, but once or twice a year, the Quadi staged a raid, such as the one Justinius and the two-century watch had come upon. What was different about this particular group, was that rather than the usual mischievous few hundred, Justinius and the others faced over a thousand warriors, who did not flee, when discovered. In fact, Justinius reported that they seemed to have anticipated it. They could not hope to engage the entire legion, at a thousand-strong, but decimating a patrol would send a message, that their intention was more than a simple raid, designed to stir up the hornet's nest from boredom, then quckly disappear back into the forest. Justinius had ordered Macrinus to get his men back inside the walls, and raise help, while his charge held the advance of the barbarians, knowing it would probably mean death for all who did not make a run for it. All that company had, while facing their fearsome attackers was their unity, and courage. Locking their shields, they lasted through the first onslaught, unscathed. Macrinus, more than willing to get to camp, was overruled by his own men, and found himself in the thick of the skirmish, but to his credit, he did not run. His group, which included Catavignus my student, rushed the Germans, taking turns with the men under Justinius' command, at charging and ducking, while slowly making their retreat to the base. Not a one escaped without injury. The howling and barking of the dogs, whose keen ears had picked up the sounds of fighting men, and screaming horses, had alerted the watch at the gate. More troops were sent on the run, and the Quadi crossed the river, dragging their own wounded with them.

A week after, word came from the Marcomanni chief Athelgir, that he wanted to help put things right between the Quadi and the army, again. Maximus answered the message with the response that he would be more than willing to talk with Degenradus of the Quadi, but not to be surprised if he came with more than his usual number of attendants. Athelgir's reply was that he understood, and would bear Maximus no malice, for not trusting the Quadi; however, the general was reminded that the talk was to be of retaining the fragile peace. Weapons would be left outside, and the first side to draw a sword would be cut down by Athelgir's warriors.

When asked if I wanted to go along, I was dubious. "Are you sure it's not a trap?" I was thinking on Julius Caesar's words, regarding Ariovistus of the Suevi.

"I'm sure. Athelgir is a man of his word. Far more peaceful man than his father was. If I thought I couldn't trust him, I wouldn't accept his offer, or I would arrange to meet in a neutral place. He's had plenty of chances to get revenge, or start a revolt, but so far, it's been a good relationship with him. It's Degenradus I worry about. Just be ready, in case." He did not really need to tell me that, I rarely walked anywhere without at least a dagger on my person, anyway, and never, since that day. Catavignus, still recovering from various cuts and bruises, and I studied within the walls, usually in front of my tent in the evening, or during the noon meal. Families had been moved inside, and the night watch was doubled. I went completely armed when we left the safety of the walled fort, and headed across the river into Marcomanni territory.

Sunlight filtered through the dense pines that closed around us, casting mottled shadows and fractured beams down on the forest floor, where our horses picked their way carefully. So close together were the trees, that it gave the appearance that the forest was black and impenetrable. I looked up and around at it all in wonder, and a bit of longing. From time to time, we would pass fallen timber, overgrown with moss and lichen, or a wild rosebush with the last of the summer's blooms that had survived the early frost of two mornings past. On one occasion, I spied a doe, heavy with fawn, stock still where she had been searching for a quiet place to bear her baby. She watched the passing train of horses and humans with huge eyes, torn between staying where she was, and taking cover in the thicket.

The Marcomanni resided five leagues beyond the other side of the Danube, in an open meadow. There was little to distinguish them from the Celts above Antoninus' wall, for riding through their spread out farms and homes reminded me much of the Caledonii and Maetae, back home. In reality, both nations had come from the same ancestors. Our language had diverged and changed, so that it was now two very different tongues, but the way we worshipped, our valor, our style of dress, were often very much the same. The only thing that marked us truly different, was that the Celts had gone on to better land, and greater achievement, thus sparing us most of the time the disdainful name of barbarian, except where we still adhered to the most primitive of our ways.

And if there was a nation more hospitable than my own, it was the Germans. There was no such word as stranger, in their feasting halls. If a wanderer stumbled in, they would be fed and housed, and after, they would be asked their business. This was apparent to me, when my arm was grabbed and shaken as readily as Maximus', by the chief. His Roman was flawless, as he drew us inside his home, and showed us where we would be put up, and greeted some of our retinue by name. He ruffled Maximus' hair, with a quip that if the general was just a bit taller and out of uniform, no one would know he was not a tribesman. I heard the other general whisper to Valerius that Athelgir seemed like a huge child. Valerius' answer was not to underestimate the young man; he was as formidable an enemy as his sire, but as well educated and eloquent as any senator. Again, Ariovistus sprung to mind, and off-handedly I mused that if Caesar had met this man instead, he might have had a different tale to tell.

Still might be another, the thought came to me, as I watched Maximus' replacement take in our surroundings, a mixture of horror and disgust quite evident on his face. It was a simple place, in comparison to what he was used to, I supposed, but Athelgir's wife kept an honorable home; everything had its place, and nothing was where it did not belong. He lost it immediately, at a word from Valerius. This I could not hear, but the meaning was plain. If the man thought to keep peace with these people, as Maximus had, he had better get used to the fact that they were often poor, even the chieftains, and every day was a struggle to eke out an existence, for them. They could not afford the amenities the far-wealthier Romans had.

As for myself, I surveyed the stone house in comfort and interest. From the outside- and this was the largest building in the village- it had seemed small, but inside, it showed its true size; Athelgir could fit all the neighboring families inside with ease, as well as Maximus' and Degenradus' parties. The dining hall was already set up to do so, long tables of solid oak and benches made neat rows throughout the room, and where the cooking fires were, large kettles full of steaming, succulent stew simmered in wait for the guests. The chief's weapons adorned the walls, interspersed among various skins and animal heads that had been mounted to show Athelgir's prowess at the hunt. But what caught my eye most, was the rotund figurine of a goddess in a corner of the room, naked, faceless, and charming. Athelgir spoke a silent good-luck prayer in her direction, and suddenly, I missed my gods. I had not had a dream from them since the day I found my sister's body and I felt empty without their silent closeness.

The din in the crowded feasting hall was deafening, when supper got underway. Degenradus and his advisors and guard arrived not long after we did, and while they were cordial and respectful to Maximus, it was going to be a struggle for his successor to gain the same, as evident from the evasiveness displayed in each glance and greeting. He followed Maximus' lead, however, and met each with an open mind, struggling over the pronunciation of names, somewhat, trying his best to get off to a good start. On the way back to camp, Maximus would instruct him to rely on Justinius for aid, as the centurion often accompanied his uncle to visits like this, and was known to the tribes.

During dinner, the atmosphere was an easy one, men laughing back and forth to each other, and belying the reason for which each had come. In addition to the stew, the roasted carcasses of stags and boars were brought in, still crackling and sizzling from the blaze of the pit. Athelgir's guests were served first. The choicest bits of meat were heaped upon the wooden trenchers placed before each of us, with Maximus' and Degenradus' bearing the largest portions. I was silently glad of the army of children that stealthily crept about, hoping some generous adult would give them something from their plate, for after warriors were served, women and children ate what was left. I knew I could never eat all that was placed in front of me, so would slip a piece to any child that stole up beside me. It was not long before ale was brought in, and as everyone became more intoxicated, the more stories began to be requested. As each storyteller got up to speak, they were hard-pressed to weave a tale more impressive than the last. As the translator relayed each word quietly to the Roman contingent, legends of gods, and recounted accomplishments of men long dead spellbound me. So rapt was my attention, that Athelgir's commission for Maximus to join in, and the general's reply that his adjutant was far better at it, and would be glad to narrate a fable for the crowd, almost went unheard.

When the idea he was talking about me registered, I imagined I looked much like the deer I had spotted earlier. Quickly gathering my senses, and fixing my owner with a look that I hoped sent the message I was not happy about being put on the spot, I rose, searching quickly through stores of folklore I had learned in my childhood. But before I began, I decided I would get even with Maximus, then and there. He was grinning, like a small boy pulling a marvelous prank, but I had made a practice in childhood of being better at it than most boys. He might be embarrassing me, but the praise was not lost on my heart. Still, he needed to be taught a lesson.

"A Roman general bought a woman once, for no other reason than to make her life miserable, it seemed." There were snickers and guffaws all around, and the officers with us struggled to keep their faces straight. Maximus' ocean eyes bespoke his own discomfort, at having the attention drawn back to him; crimson stained his cheeks to his ears, and it was all I could do not to break my solemnity.

"Though he was a better master to her, than any other she had before, the slave found the endless stream of jokes directed at her almost unbearable. If she tried to be serious, he would make light of it. The times she tried to tell her heart to him, he teased her, making her feel silly and small. With many present, she would attempt invisibility, but he would embarrass her somehow or another, by telling people she had skills beyond what she actually had."

Worry, hurt, or sorrow? Was that what flashed in Maximus' visage, when my only desire was to play with him, a bit? I wondered if I had gone too far, but had to finish. "For months, she tried to find a way to get her master back. Then, one night, as they feasted with chiefs and warriors, she got her chance. In front of a gracious host, and with his officers present, and with too much ale in his belly, he bragged that she could tell a better story than anyone. When called upon to prove her master's boast, she got up, but instead of standing in the middle of the audience, she walked over to the general, and kicked him right in the shins. 'That,' she said, 'is the story,' and went back to eating her dinner." Whistles and shouts filled the hall in a mirthful clamor and I leered evilly at my chagrined owner, while it died down. His answer was a level glance that revealed nothing of his thoughts. Perhaps I had gone too far.

"You're right my friend," Athelgir laughed. "She is the best." Maximus shook his head at me, then drained his cup, while I regaled the crowd with a lengthy fable regarding a warrior who fell in love with the wife of his king, thanks to a love potion they shared unwittingly. The eventuailty of it all, was that when they were found and separated, he stepped in front of an arrow, to end his life, and she died of heartbreak at the news.

As I took small breaths, throughout, I allowed my gaze to wander over the audience, and their reactions to the trials of the lovers. At one point, when the young warrior decided he needed to return the queen to her husband, because she was so thin and pale from a hard life of exile, I noticed Athelgir's wife press her fingers into his shoulder, when she handed him a fresh cup. His fingers closed over hers, and he brought them to his lips. Several teenage girls sat sniffling in a corner, when I reached the end. Maximus' thumb caressed his own drinking vessel, his thoughts somewhere far away. His eyes met mine, when I took my place beside the translator, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly, while others clapped in appreciation. Gratefully, I accepted a cup of apple wine from a kind hand.

Long into the night, there was chatter and gambling, with no thought on the next day's far more serious undertaking. I found my bed in the room that had been designated for our group, and let the laughter and raucous activity beyond carry me to the world where stories begin. Near morning, the sensation of an extra blanket being drawn over me woke me, and a thick, drink-slurred voice whispered hope that my dreams were as magic as my tales. Feather-light fingers brushed my cheeks and traced my features, and even had I not opened my eyes, I knew who their owner was. But I did raise them to look upon Maximus, as he knelt over me, letting the ale he had consumed eat away the shields from the sea-swept gaze he held me with. In there was every emotion he felt that sober, he never gave evidence of. Dominant was desire, touched with concern. My chest constricted with elation, and fear that I could want so much for him to lay with me.

"Do I really make you feel silly and small?" His brows knit together.

"Sometimes, you do." I confessed hoarsely.

"I never mean to. I tease you, because I think you are wonderful, and possess great gifts. It does my heart good, when you tease back." The same thumb that had traced patterns over his cup, earlier, traveled over my lips, and the blue-green blaze burned hotter. "But I am going to wear stronger greaves, from now on." I giggled, and he softened.

"I am very drunk, and have kept you awake, long enough. Sleep well, Sweet. It's going to be a long day."



Warrior pt. 23 Boudicca's Land Warrior pt. 25

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Copyright 2002 by Boudicca the Red
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