It's a Love Thing

by Cindy C. Bennett

  “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.

  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 t
han 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.”

  “I’m not ordering my friends, Bastisza. Never did, never will. I order my army, not my friends. I played with them in the dirt, shared the same bread, and you want me to order them?”

  “It's wrong, Ilias.” Bastisza’s voice is harsh; I suppose I deserve it. He sharpens his dagger, one rhythmic move after another. He takes a few deep breaths, then speaks again, “Forgive me for speaking my mind, but the kind of equal ruling you sought for Dacia after the battle … it may not work. People need an iron fist to be their leader, represent and protect them.”

  I stand and stretch my arm toward Bastisza. “I have to try it. I’m a visionary who believes that mankind can live peacefully and equally with one another. My friends have proven themselves as warriors. They will prove themselves as leaders as well, aiding me to rebuild Dacia to what it was before the Roman’s conquest.”

  Bastisza takes my arm and stands as well, not letting go. His fingers clench around my forearm. “Then so be it.”

  We go our separate ways: Bastisza toward the fire and the rest of the group, me in the opposite direction, toward the geyser. I’ve anticipated sinking into the hot water ever since the first day spent wholly atop my horse. When I settle down I shall build my home closer to such a place. Hot water relaxes even the most cramped muscle.

  It’s full moon and the night’s sounds are completely different than during the day. Somewhere close two owls hoot loudly. I know the sound—it’s the mating sound. Crickets, boars, wolves—the closer to the geyser I get, the less I hear them. The water rains from the mountain’s wall and forms a large basin, then snakes down the hill until reaching the Danube and rolling into the valley. I’ve known this place for many years; first time Bastisza brought us here we stayed in the water until our fingers pruned. During winters he’d threatened with the whip for no one wanted to get out and endure the cold.

  By the time I reach the geyser, I’m undressed. Steam and water sooth my muscles, relaxing me with every step I take, deeper and deeper until I reach my favorite place. It’s a flat, wide rock at the base of the mountain, where water pours forcefully then calms into circles further and further away. I stand on the flat rock, feet apart, holding onto the mountain’s wall and let the water whip down my back, washing away my qualms, washing away my sorrows. Relaxed, I swim a few lengths then return to the flat rock, this time further to the edge where the water doesn’t rain over but rather pools around, and close my eyes.

  It’s a heavy burden my father left me with, an even heavier curse. It fed my anger and hate every single day of my life until my heart became stone. I didn’t mind it until meeting Nerva. I doubt my actions, tormenting myself for what I’ve done. It must be the gods punishing me for defying them for so long, letting me fall in love with my enemy’s daughter. How could that—

  “Ilias, you craven, where are you? Show yourself, you bastard!”

  My eyes fling open to see a woman’s silhouette stopped on the geyser’s strand. My men are behind her, loud and furious.

  I rub my eyes
and wonder if I’ve fallen asleep. It’s impossible—it can’t be. The woman leans on a stick and hobbles toward me. Moon’s light reflects off the water.

  Nerva.

  I swim toward the edge, but stop short before the water goes below my waist.

  The shouting turns ugly. They all talk at the same time. When Vipero reaches for Nerva Bastisza pushes him away, clenching his fists.

  “I’ve had enough of you, all of you acting like little boys. Stand back. Let Ilias handle her. Stand back!”

  I’m left alone with Nerva. If I could just distract her somehow and go for my clothes I’d feel more secure. I have no idea how she got here but I’m determined to find out, even if I have to lay her over my knees and spank her. It’s one thing to have my friends rebel against me. Different when a woman disobeys me. Mayhap I’m too much my mother’s son than my father’s.

  “How did you get here?”

  “You think you’re the only one knowing how to steal?”

  “This place is sacred to Dacians. How did you find it?”

  She bites her lower lip. “One of the maids . . . Aemirius told her to serve me. I promised her a gold bracelet.”

  “Who is she? It’s because of traitors like her my father died.”

  Nerva takes a few more steps toward me, water reaching to her knees. “Don’t get mad at her. She didn’t know I was planning to run away. I could’ve found you even without her aid.” She takes a few more steps and she’s now a mere breath away. “You might think me stupid, but I know how to read horse hooves. Moreover—” she takes one last step and drops the stick before reaching for my chest to steady herself, her voice an alluring whisper—”I’ve spent many hours in the saddle. I know how to ride.” She threads her fingers in the hair on my chest before finding my nipples and rubbing her thumbs over them.

  I’ve growled before but never for pleasure.

  “Why did you come?”

  “To be with you.”

  She’s wicked. I know she’s wicked and I should distance myself from her, but her voice, her body brushing mine hexes me like a cobweb.