Martial walked through a field of gold, one leg of flesh and another of living wood. He was no longer crippled, he walked faster than the other Veterans. When he had a good lead he turned and showed them what was in his hands. One held a fistful of seeds, which he let fall to the earth. The other a bronze blade. They immediately realized what he intended and ran to stop him. He raised the knife to his own throat and the faster they ran the farther away he got. He cut his own throat and fell to the earth and bled. A crown of grain grew around the corpse as his blood watered the earth.
Tarquin woke with a shout. It was winter and it was cold. His wife Maeve kicked him, incensed at being woken up. His daughter wasn't in the one bed the family shared. He heard the pigs snuffle and roll over in their sleep on the other side of the drystone house's internal partition. He heard a voice from the other side of the room. By the hearth. He sat up and there was his daughter Lucretia, sat cross legged in front of the fire while the freshly acquired Pictish slave Vectica whispered to her. He got out of bed and walloped the Horned Woman. Vectica laughed and he hit her again. Lucretia screamed. She was just telling her a story, she didn't do anything. Tarquin beat the Pict and ejected her from the house. And where the fuck was Thracius in all this? He wasn't allowed to sleep in the bed, his wife wouldn't allow that. But he was supposed to be in the house. After the last season of supernatural misadventure and barbarian intrigue, anyone going missing at night was an issue.
Dressed and armed, Tarquin exited his home and went to wake Rusticus. You never searched for a missing person alone unless you wanted to share their fate. Together they crept around the perimeter and found Thracius sat by the palisade, looking out over the perimeter wall. Tarquin almost walloped him too, but the Thracian slave frantically explained that Martial had woken him up and told him to take his place. The Veterans heard the door of the horreum, apparently Vectica went to sleep in the granary.
Saturnia cajoled Martial into sharing his dream with Rusticus. He dreamed of the bear he killed. She spoke to him. He didn't understand what she said. He had already forgotten but Saturnia reminded him. The bear was the nature Goddess and the man who slew her inherited her power, but also a curse. She didn't know what curse, her tribe sold her before she was initiated into the mysteries. Rusticus shared his dream, which he recognized as the Corn King legend. The sacrificial king who died to make the land bloom and rose again with the grain. So this was the curse. The knowledge that, if he killed himself, Martial could fix everyone else's problems. Dammit, no, said both Saturnia and Rusticus. That's not what they meant at all, and how many people would they have to talk out of suicide this winter?
In the morning Rusticus went to get something from the granary. He found Vectica asleep under a heavy wool cloth. She had a bone wrapped with string in her mouth and a bunch of ferrets asleep under the blanket with her. The beasts kept the granary free of mice and rats but, in the winter, the children of the Colony often fed them treats to supplement their diet of absent vermin. So the ferrets woke up and excitedly wormed their way between Rusticus' legs, expecting to be fed.
Valerian ate breakfast with Martial's family. His own kids Pompey, Aurora and Lucanus sat at the other end of the table so he had trouble hearing them. Lucanus and Aurora's skin was flaking horribly from the blistering heat and their voices were still raspy. Lucanus was pestering his younger brother Pompey about fucking Vectica. If he didn't do it to her first, she was going to do it to him. Pompey asked why Lucanus hadn't done it if it was such a great idea. Because my skin is all fucked up, he countered. You think that will stop her, asked Pompey? She's a barbarian, she'll do it even if you peel off under her. Normal Roman kid behavior. Valerian was a street kid, he didn't come from a wealthy family. But he fantasized about the same thing when he was their age. He supposed it was fine. Even if he felt a little bad that they discussed it openly at Martial's table, when he knew that Martial must have endured something similar before he bought his freedom.
In Tarquin's house Lucretia told her parents what Vectica told her. She needed to wear a horseshoe to stop the fairy Peg Leg from getting her. She told Vectica's story about the old king who couldn't pay his torturers. The torturers tried everything to make money and when one of the apprentices came home with a wagonload of silver the masters demanded to know where it came from. It was simple, said he. The torturers were greatly feared and he did brisk trade selling badges that granted the bearer immunity from excruciation. You fool, said the masters. If the king orders a man put to the question, we have to torture him. We can't say we gave him a pass. Oh that's fine, said the apprentice. We'll just give that guy his money back. In all honesty Tarquin was happy to see his daughter interested in something, and impressed that she had picked up enough of the Horned Woman's Pictish dialect to understand it. She might grow up to be a barbarian herself, but that was a problem for her future husband.
Speaking of which, over in Rusticus' house his daughter Paula asked if she could finally leave the Colony and marry a man somewhere else. Rusticus gave her the breakdown. If that was what she really wanted, she could marry a barbarian. She would lose access to indoor plumbing and hot baths. If she thought her mother and aunts being Roman property was bad, she had no idea how awful it would be among the barbarians. Everything she hated about her life in the Colony would still be true, because the things she hated were part of the human condition. But losing indoor plumbing was the real killer, he could tell her from experience. Paula sulked because she didn't want him to know he'd convinced her. He felt a little guilty, because while he believed he was doing all this for her benefit he also selfishly wanted to prolong this moment of safety and togetherness with his family. But that was part of the human condition too.
McBride
Thracius called a warning from the perimeter wall. Two riders on the horizon. Metal armor, bright colored cloth. The Veterans geared up and mounted the step inside the palisade to take a look. The riders drew closer. One rode a fat horse, wore a red striped cape and a face mask helm in the Saxon style. One rode a small horse and sported an enormous mustache that spilled out around the cheek protectors of his conical helm. They carried a mix of Roman, British and Germanic equipment. The masked rider drew with javelin range of the wall, removed his helm and shouted a challenge. He was here to challenge the greatest warrior in the Colony: the barbarian fool Rusticus.
Did anyone recognize this guy? Without the helmet he looked familiar.
It was Drusus, Rusticus son.
The Latinized barbarian contemplated jumping the parapet and rushing down to meet his child. The others convinced him to use the gate. He almost cut through the ropes holding the crude drawbridge up before the others arrived to help him lower it. By this time the whole Colony had turned out to see what was going on. Drusus hopped off his horse and went to meet his father. He kept it together. He embraced Rusticus and told him that he was surprised to see him and all his uncles still alive. He led a mercenary band now, which impressed his father even more. The Saxon on the small horse was Seaxneat, his lieutenant. The Germanic warrior gave a mock bow. Londinium had fallen, the land to the south was a patchwork of petty kingdoms and Roman rump states. They went north after their previous employer betrayed them. High hearted, fierce fighting warriors according to marketing materials prepared by Seaxneat.
Paula ran out and hugged her brother. She struck his mail with her fist, angry that he had allowed her to believe him dead for so long. Dead? Nonsense. You should see the other guy! Seaxneat did tricks on his horse to amuse the children.
Drusus told his father he would return with the rest of his warband. In the meantime he'd leave Seaxneat as a "hostage" to ensure his own good behavior. Rusticus warned his son that the colony didn't have enough food to quarter the troops forever, and they were in a low intensity war with a neighboring barbarian tribe. That was fine, said Drusus. They'd go on a cattle raid together and chase the Picts off.
Seaxneat complimented the fortress and its defenders, obviously sizing up how easy it would be to defend or assault. There was a civil war in the south and he had stormed as many palisades as he had defended. He paused his stream of flattery when he saw Vectica. She bit the head off a mouse she stole from the ferrets and stared at him as she chewed. He asked the Veterans if they were interested in selling their captive. He quoted a price in gold aurei, more money than the Colony had ever seen in one place. He told the Veterans to think it over and went to "talk" with the Horned Lady.
The Veterans deliberated. They didn't care about the money, though Tarquin entertained fantasies of reestablishing trade networks and roads. They wanted the mercenaries' help fending off the rest of the Horned Ladies. But that started with winning over the second in command, so they let him have their freshly caught slave without haggling too hard. Vita shook her head in dismay. They threw out the two cheese wheels and now they had puked up the third. What about their sons? Vectica stroked her new "husband"'s mustache. He bit the bone needle between her fingers, catching it before she could stab his face.
The whole colony ate at Rusticus' house that night. Seaxneat told a story to amuse the children about a man who wore heavy armor so he could sink to the bottom of the ocean and fight a sea monster. For the adults he told a joke he learned from his last employer. The Empress of Rome brought her lover, the captain of the Praetorians, into her bedroom. They fucked like blood hungry devils until a prominent Senator, who was also the Empress' lover, banged on her door. She bade the Praetorian hide under her bed and invited the Senator inside. They fucked like blood hungry devils and another knock came at the door. This time a wealthy freedman. She bade the Senator hide under the bed. Then the Freedman when the Tribune of the Plebs arrived. Then the emissary of the Huns. And so on until the Emperor arrived. They fucked like blood hungry devils and, afterward, he asked the Empress if she would give him all that she gave her other paramours. She denied any infidelity, but when pressed she said that yes. She would give him everything she gave her other men. The Emperor lay down on the floor and crawled under the bed.
Rusticus' house only had one room. He woke in the middle of the night to the sound of Seaxneat and Vectica fucking loudly. Eventually the mercenary, ever sensitive to the limits of his hosts' patience, took his new bride out to the stables, where they inevitably upset the horses.
Valerian woke up alone on the shore of a beautiful loch. The water was clear and the shore glittered with polished amber. There was a cabin. A chimney and a strand of smoke. The door swung open without the need to place his hand on it. Inside was his wife Finnguala. He realized he was dreaming and held his wife for as long as he could, because while she was here he would enjoy the memory of her being alive. She called him her little street thug, her gangster prince, her soldier. She asked if he wanted to stay with her. He said he could not join her yet, he had obligations to their children that prevented him from passing over to the other side. She asked if he wanted her to come and join him back in the land of the living. He said such a thing was impossible. Not so, said she. You yourself told me the tales of your people, where men returned from the death that never dies. His tribe and hers had legends of dying and rising Gods. The Corn King cut to pieces and reborn. She laughed at his confusion, as she often did when he had trouble following her logic, and kissed him. She would make it simple.
All he had to do was let her in.
Valerian realized it was a trick. A bargain he almost accepted even though he couldn't believe her promise that things would be like they used to. But instead he shook his head and told her she would have to wait longer. He couldn't let her in, but someday he'd join her. She said she was afraid. That she wouldn't last that long. In the story he told, when the Man of Many Ways poured wine to feed the shades of his dead friends, they had already forgotten
Valerian woke up outside. In front of the door to Tarquin's home. Hand outstretched as though to open it. He swore he felt a presence behind him but when he turned to look all he saw was the faint light of Thracius' lantern hidden below the parapet. He stole into the granary and opened one of the last vessels of wine in the Colony. Maybe in all Caledonia. He dug a small hole in the earth above his wife's grave, poured a measure and spoke to her privately. Then he left.
There was a sound in the graveyard. He turned, terrified and exhilarated. Was it Finnguala returned to him? As she was in life? As a shade or animated corpse?
It was Thracius. The slave knelt over the grave and said a prayer to the One God, asking Christ to care for the soul of the deceased. Then he picked up the discarded vessel and drank the rest of the wine himself.
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