It's a Love Thing (51 page)

I poke at the fire, but my hand shakes
slightly. I quickly place it back on my knee, clear my throat and
say, “My generals are the best; better than any of Traianus’
legatus. They’ve proved it through many battles. I trust them to be
ready. I’m at ease even if we arrive the night before the fight.
Nerva's coming.”

I see my friends exchange looks. If
they are worried, they don’t say it. Bastisza gets up, squeezes my
shoulder and says, “You know best.” He walks away.

At times I wish my father’s friend
wouldn’t put so much faith in me. He’d been under my father’s
command for five years before we lost everything. He’d taken me
under his wing, raising Galtys, Ursus, and I to become strong men,
teaching us all he knows. But mostly, he kept my father’s memory
alive, showing me his hidden treasures and swearing to protect me
until his last breath. So far he’s kept his word.

“
Gratitude for taking Thrax
and Gruia in.”

Miura nods when Aemirius looks at her,
a reassuring smile on her knowing face. A pang of envy crosses my
heart seeing the bond they have—no words need be spoken for they
have each other’s love.

“
A helping hand is always
welcomed,” Aemirius says. “Severinus can stay, if he wishes. He’s a
hard worker.”

“
He comes with me. My
father’s soldiers are my responsibility.”

Miura stands. She smells of milk and
lavender when her palm touches my temple. She bows and barely
touches it with her lips, then pats my shoulder. “You’ve grown into
a good man, Ilias. May the gods be with you.”

I’m left alone to my demons. I roll on
my back after I throw a few logs on the fire. I don’t know how long
I’ve tossed and turned, but Nerva’s delirium keeps me awake deep
into the night. She’s in Aemirius hut, the biggest of them all. I’m
about to fall asleep when a childhood memory flashes into my mind,
strong, alive as if it just happened. I remember father taking
Meda, my sister, one winter night and laying her feverish and frail
body into the snow. He kept her in his arms while his wife begged
him not to kill her daughter. The sorceress told him she wouldn’t
make it, her spirit burning inside her sickly body. But father
didn’t give up. The next morning Meda’s fever broke.

It’s mid-July and I have nowhere to
find snow. But I have an idea.

I walk into the hut and before I take
another step, Aemirius’ blade it’s pressed against my neck. For an
old man, he moves with incredible agility.

“
It’s me,
Ilias.”

He backs off. “I could’ve killed you.
What you need?”

“
I’m taking Nerva to the
river.”

Miura has already lit a wick. She’s
behind me as I lift Nerva out of her cot and walk out. Nerva’s limp
body burns against me like embers. Aemirius is dressed already and
stands in my way, pushing both hands through his rumpled gray hair.
He opens his mouth to say something, then changes his mind. He only
shakes his head and takes a step aside, holding the door
open.

I remember the river being further
away, but somehow I get there quickly. If I’m not mistaken I can
find the place where the water isn’t rushing down the mountain but
rather pools in a basin before taking a deep leap. The sun is not
quite up, but the horizon begins to glow, giving me enough light to
find my way.

I don’t feel Nerva’s weight, but I do
feel her burning in my arms. I’m drenched, but it’s not me sweating
but rather her against me. She’s not mumbling anymore, and for a
moment I fear she’s dead. I’m frightened.

And I do something I haven’t done in a
long time.

I pray.

*****

The water’s coldness
reaches to my very soul and for a moment I welcome it. Nerva burns
a hole through me. I’m fired up. The deeper the water, the colder
it gets. When the water reaches my waist I sink in, holding Nerva
tight. She jerks a few times before relaxing in my arms. A few
steps further in the river I find a rock and sit on it. Even
through my soaked clothes I can still feel Nerva burning. I almost
lose faith that she’ll survive. The idea of living for the rest of
my life with another crime on my conscience—this time a
woman,
Nerva
—overwhelms me. I feel like raising my fist to the sky, to the
unfair gods, but I’m defeated. It’s not the first time they’ve
turned their back on me.

“
Gratitude, Zamolxis, by
the power of the universe and all you love, have mercy. Take me,
but spare Nerva. Is not her fault she’s a monster's daughter. Take
me.” I mumble prayers I haven’t uttered since I was twelve. Prayers
my mother taught me. Then when I moved into my father’s house, his
wife prayed with me. Then I didn’t pray at all.

I return to the huts, water trailing
behind me. Everyone is up and busy, but when they see me, they stop
and a harsh silence follows me. I didn’t realize Miura waited for
me until I got out of the river. She’s brought rags to dry Nerva,
but it won’t be necessary. She’s dead and it’s all my
fault.

I place Nerva on the cot and sit next
to her. I need a moment to collect myself. Miura ushers everyone
out of the room that followed us inside, and I’m grateful for her
understanding. She brings a lit wick for all dead shan’t leave this
earth without light to guide them home. She places it on the dirt
floor, then leaves as quietly as she came.

Left alone with Nerva, I finally look
up at her. She’s beautiful. I remember seeing her for the first
time, running after butterflies in the main courtyard of the
fortress. Her laughter had filled the air, and as much as I tried
not to, I stopped and smiled. She looked innocent then, she looks
innocent now. Only she’ll never run after butterflies
again.

I lift the hair away from her face and
touch her temple. She’s still warm as I trail down her cheek, along
her fine jaw. Her lips look inviting . . . in a twisted way, I’m
the one numb with pain and sorrow when it was supposed to be
Traianus. My mind can’t focus and, on impulse, I press my lips to
hers, desperately wishing her to know how sorry I am.

I lift Nerva in my arms and rock her
gently. I must be hallucinating for I hear a faint moan. Then a
second one.

“
Nerva?” I shake her a few
times. Her eyelids flutter then she arches her back and takes a
deep breath followed by coughs and violent writhes. I don’t let go
until she calms a little and opens her eyes. She rolls her eyes a
few times and finally focuses on me.

I hope I’m not dreaming, but she
actually smiles.

“
Gratitude, Ilias. You
saved me.”

*****

Almost losing Nerva gives me a new
perspective. There are not many things I’ve done so far in my life
of two and twenty years that I regret doing, but kidnaping her is
one of them. I should’ve ambushed Traianus during one of his trips
back and forth between Rome and Sarmizegetusa. I have the vantage
of knowing the land better than he or any of his soldiers. I
could’ve found a better way of fighting and killing him. Women have
no place in this.

Cold water—or snow—for people with
high fever is a miracle I’ve now seen twice and I need to share
this with our priests and sorcerers. Sure Zyraxes would add this to
his knowledge of medicine.

Nerva’s wound is no longer infected.
She can’t walk, but she will one day. We spend time together after
returning from the river. Weak and cold, I help her remove the wet
chemise. I feel clumsy, and embarrassed—I’ve never undressed a
princess. Despite the sheepskin she’s covered with she can’t warm
up, and when her lips turn purple and her teeth chatter, I take my
clothes off and join her on the cot. She nestles at my chest as if
she’s done it a million times. Soon she stops shivering and falls
asleep. Heaven is closer to the earth than I thought.

Don’t know how long I’ve slept, but
when I wake and see her next to me, my world comes crashing down on
me. Nothing really happened between us, yet I feel as if I’ve
betrayed my family, my people. I’ve broken an oath I took so many
years ago. It’s as much a part of me as my own breath.

I find my dried clothes on a chair by
the door and I’m deeply obliged to Miura for sparing me the
embarrassment of walking out naked. I’m out of the hut as fast as
possible, signaling immediate departure.

“
Nerva shan’t continue the
journey with us. She will return to her people,” I tell my men as
we gather to leave Aemirius’ place, horses ready, supplies
packed.

“
Why?” Vipero asks,
twisting a long straw between his teeth.

“
We risked our lives in
vain? Trek with a
woman
for days and now give up? Why not kill her in
front of Traianus then go after him? That was the plan wasn’t it?”
Galtys snorts, looking around the group as if asking for their
support. He’s the youngest of all, but that has never stopped him
from fighting the enemy side by side with the most experienced
warriors.

I look around the circle and can tell
they are as confused as Galtys. I owe them an explanation, though
Bastisza once told me if I do I risk losing their respect—no king’s
decisions shall be questioned. I am no king. I’m my father’s
bastard thirsty for revenge to take back what was ours. I first
have to prove myself.

“
We are still fighting the
Romans. Nothing has changed.”

“
And who will take her
back?” Zyraxes saddles his horse.

“
All of you, except
Bastisza and Severinus. They come with me.”

For a moment there is silence, but
it’s the silence before the storm. I know them all too well to
believe they’ll just accept it. Bastisza told me as their leader I
have to lay down the law, demand respect. I’m not demanding it. I’m
earning it.

They talk one over another, louder and
louder. Our horses get spooked, even the sheep in the stall close
by are agitated. It’s an uproar I’ve created and I have to work
hard to convince them it’s my final word. If bravery is one of the
best Dacian traits, stubbornness ranks up there, too.

I raise my hand and silence magically
returns. Five men, one more courageous than the other, look up to
me, waiting, anticipating my words.

“
There is no other
way.”

“
You want me,
us
to hide behind a
woman’s skirts while you go to war? Is that what you ask of us?”
Galtys roots his feet apart, fists tight at his side.

“
What about what happened
in there?” Vipero motions toward the hut, and I know exactly what
he means.

“
Nothing,
nothing
happened in
there. Nerva’s virtue is unharmed.” My words barely leave my lips,
spoken too fast, and the group’s bearing shifts. Clenched jaws, and
furious eyes watch me as they walk closer, making a tight circle
around me.

“
No woman has ever left
your bed
unharmed
.
She's bewitched you, hasn't she?”

“
By Zamolxis, a
Roman
woman? You took an
oath, we all did, and now
you
break it?”

“
How could you?”

Bastisza steps in front of me, pushing
them away. He unfolds his whip and snaps it in the air, forcing
everyone to distance even more.

“
Your king decides as he
sees fit. Like it or not, follow his order. Take Nerva back to her
people. Be gone!” The whip snaps the air once again.

Galtys faces Bastisza and removes his
shirt. “Go ahead, father, flag me. But I’m going to fight the
Romans.”

Bastisza fumes, I can tell by the way
his nostrils flare. Ursus, Vipero and Zyraxes all undress and align
with Galtys. The situation has gotten out of control and I have to
do something. I stand between my friends and Bastisza as he swings
the whip. I catch it mid-air and feel the rope burning my skin,
then blood.

“
Behold. All of you.” I
never raise my voice to my men, not even now. “If fighting the
Romans is what you wish for, then your wish is granted. Nerva
remains here with Aemirius until I send for her.”

On my way to my mare Aemirius stops
me. His arm is stretched across my shoulder, squeezing it in the
same salute my father taught me. “Zamolxis be with you, my son. We
shall take good care of her.”

“
Farewell, my friend.
Gratitude for your hospitality.” I squeeze Aemirius’ shoulder as
well and leave without another glance back.

*****

“
You’re fearless like your
father, but indulgent like your mother.” Bastisza sits next to me,
away from the rest of the group. We made a fire and had a meager
supper. No one except Bastisza and Severinus talks to me. It
bothers me, but I have first to make peace with myself, then I
shall talk to them. We rode for the rest of the day until we
reached the geyser. It’s the last stop before we shall reunite with
our army. The battle with Traianus is close and I can’t wait for
it. It’s what I’ve lived for the past ten years, finally coming to
an end. “Men are like whores. You show weakness—they take
advantage. You shan’t go back on your decisions, foolish or not,
they are your decisions. You
order
them.”