[A Dream of Eagles 01] - The Skystone

by Jack Whyte (ebook by Undead)

  "No, Publius! No!"

  The cry startled me as much as it did the buck, shattering my concentration so that I flinched and jerked the bow high, straining my muscles against the instinct to release the arrow. By the time I looked again, my beautiful buck had vanished. Slowly, gritting my teeth, I released the tension on my bow. Then I turned around to where Luceiia stood watching me, the fingertips of one hand touching her lips and her eyes wide and filled with apprehension. With her other hand she clutched a blanket she had wrapped around her against the morning chill. I made no move towards her and she simply stood there, waiting for my anger to break over her for the first time.

  "Why did you do that?" I asked her, calmly.

  She blinked her own deer-like eyes at me. "I... he was too beautiful. I didn't want you to kill him."

  "I divined that much already, Luceiia. But why did you find it necessary to frighten me out of a year's growth as well as tonight's dinner?"

  "What? Frighten you? How did...?" Her eyes changed slightly, crinkling to a smile. "Did I startle you?"

  I nodded slowly, seriously, drinking in her marvellous beauty as she stood there unaware that her nakedness beneath the blanket was clearly visible.

  "Half to death," I said. "What would you have done had I fallen dead? How would you have felt? Would the buck have comforted you?"

  Her hand moved up to cover her mouth completely, masking the laugh that now danced in her eyes. "You are not angry?"

  "I asked you how you would have felt had I died of shock, woman. Answer me."

  Instead of speaking she shivered, giggled and turned to dart back towards the leather tent hidden among the saplings behind her. I chased her and caught her at the entrance flap and bore her down onto the still-warm pile of furs inside.

  Hours later, riding through a golden springtime morning, she was still talking about the deer whose life she had saved, pointing out that, had I killed him, I would have had to spend time cleaning, skinning and butchering him, so that we would have lost the glory of the early day. Besides, she said, the buck was young — too young to have experienced life and the wonders of mating. Was I so jaded and indifferent to life that I could deny its pleasures to another, even to a deer?

  The spring sun shone warm and strong on us, and her eyes sparkled with health and humour. The long, clean lines of her thigh filled out the soft leather breeches she wore for riding. My breath thickened in my throat as I followed her contours with my eyes, although for the moment I was content to ride alongside her, listening with pleasure to her prattling and feasting my eyes on her crystalline beauty. This was my wife! Even after almost a full month of marriage I still had to keep reminding myself of this. She was mine! I could have her and enjoy her any time I wanted to, for the remainder of our lives.

  "You are not listening, Publius."

  The singsong notes of her comment brought me back to attention with a start.

  "I was day-dreaming. Forgive me. What were you saying?"

  "I was saying, husband dear, that I feel a sorrow, a sympathy, for the poor animals."

  "What animals? Deer? Why?"

  "Not merely deer — all animals." She was grinning at me, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Because of the way they are tied to seasons and have no hands."

  I felt myself frowning. "I don't follow you."

  "I know you don't, because you haven't been listening. But you would follow me if I slipped from my horse and from my clothing here in this long, lush grass, would you not?"

  "What?" I felt my stomach tighten with anticipation and glanced around me involuntarily. "You mean here? On this open hillside?"

  "Open?" Her laugh was tinkling bells. "We are miles from anywhere, husband, and I want you. I want to feel your hands and your body and the cool greenness of this grass on my skin."

  Somehow our horses had stopped moving, and the air between us seemed to solidify and tremble, drawing me towards her.

  "You are a shameless wanton," I muttered, hoarsely.

  "Completely, with you."

  She laughed again and seemed to flow down from her horse's back and into the long grass, and I almost fell from my own mount in my rush to join her.

  Our horses grazed contentedly nearby for more than an hour while we dallied in the rich warmth of the sun, and then she suddenly sat up and reached for her clothes.

  "I am lost, husband," she said. "How far are we from the valley?"

  I remained where I was, supine and spread-eagled, and pointed with my thumb over my head in the direction of the crest of the hill above us.

  "Just on the other side of the summit, there," I told her. "About a half hour ride to the top, and we'll be looking down into it."

  She leaned across to kiss my chest and then caught hold of my flaccid maleness, pulling it gently but firmly upwards as if it were a handle by which she could lift me.

  "Well then," she said, "up off your lazy rump and let's go and look at it."

  I started to rise and then lay back, staring into the sky.

  "Look, up there, right above us."

  Sitting as she was, she could not see anything, so I pulled her back down beside me and we lay side by side for minutes, watching two tiny crosses floating in the sky a mile and more above us.

  "What are they, Publius? Dragons?" I could hear the smile in her voice.

  "No," I said, "those are eagles. A mating pair."

  "A mating pair? You mean they are mating now?"

  "Hardly, my love. I meant that they are male and female."

  "How do you know that? And how do you know they are eagles? They could be hawks."

  "No, too high up. And look at the wing span, even from here." I reached out and took her hand where it lay beside me. "Those are eagles. They're probably watching us watching them."

  "You mean they can see us from that height?"

  "Probably better than we can see them. The eagle's eye is the keenest in the world."

  She squeezed my fingers. "Do you think they are in love?"

  "Probably. Eagle love. They mate for life."

  She leaned up on one elbow, looking down at me. "Really? I didn't know that."

  I squinted at her. ''Come now, I thought you knew everything!"

  "No." She lowered her head to my chest. "Not everything. Just the things I need to know and the things I want to know." She paused for a while, then asked, "Where do you think their nest might be?"

  I lowered a hand to caress her hair. "I don't know, but it must be around here somewhere. This is the hatching season. They must have chicks. Wherever it is, it's somewhere high up. Probably on one of the hilltops, on a cliff face. They nest in the same place every year, too, you know."

  "The same mate and the same nesting place for life? They sound almost human."

  I still had not taken my eyes from the two solitary shapes wheeling above us. "Don't malign them, Luceiia. Some humans, very few, attain the dignity and honour, you might almost say the purity, of eagles. Very, very few."

  "What do you mean, Publius?" Her voice was very quiet.

  "I mean that only eagles can be eagles, my love, and eagles can only be eagles. They are unique. They never demean or disgrace themselves. Their purity is absolute because they are incapable of voluntary imperfection."

  She kissed me. "Just like you, you mean?"

  I returned her kiss. "No, Luceiia, not like me at all. I'm far too human."

  "Then, husband, if you are too human, no man can ever hope to be an eagle."

  I sat up and reached for my own clothes. "That's not true, my love," I said. "Have you ever looked closely at your brother?"

  She lay still and blinked her eyes in silence.

  The great birds were still circling above us when we crossed the summit of the hill and looked down into the Valley of the Dragons. I showed her where we had unearthed the skystones we had found, and then I pointed out the circle segment in the lake side. As I started to lead the way along the crest of the hill towards the lake, she spoke agai
n.

  "It seems strange to realize that those massive stones at the bottom there are broken pieces of mountain." She stared at the cliff opposite. "Could that be where the eagles have their nest?"

  I turned and looked across the valley to the great rock face. "Very probably. It's sheer enough, and inaccessible."

  She rode in silence as we approached the lake, and soon we reined in our horses right above it, looking down into its depths, it was a genuine lake, much larger than a normal mountain tarn. This close, all sign of the circle segment we had seen from the distance had vanished. The bright sky and the sun above gave the surface a much friendlier aspect than some I had seen, and I was pleased that she was seeing it at its most appealing.

  "Well," I asked her, "what do you think? Have I wasted your time dragging you out here and making you spend the night in a leather tent?"

  "No." Her voice was subdued. "It's very large, Publius. Much larger than I remember. How deep is it?"

  I angled my mount closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the strength of her.

  "I don't really know. No way of telling. But it's deep. My estimate would be about a hundred feet or so at its deepest, judging from the slope of the valley floor, but I could be short by half as much again or even more."

  "A hundred and fifty feet? And you intend to drain it? How? Where will you drain it to? Where will it all go?"

  "Come, I'll show you." I led her for another half mile around to the western rim of the lake where she could see for herself the steep fall of the land down into the neighbouring valley. "Can you see what happened here? The impact of the falling stones threw up this rim across the end of the valley, building up the natural dam that was here already and strengthening it. You can see how new the fall is here, on this side. See it?" She nodded and I went on. "The lake here is like wine in a bowl. All we have to do is crack the side of the bowl, down there, by digging a hole into it, and the wine will spill down into the valley below, there, and then down into the next one, and so on until it reaches the plain and flows into the streams and rivers."

  "That will be dangerous, Publius, won't it?"

  "How?"

  "Digging that hole into the side of the bowl, as you call it. It will be dangerous. What if you dig too far?"

  "No." I shook my head disparagingly. "It's simple engineering, Luceiia. There's nothing to it."

  She was staring at me keenly. "Perhaps not, for an engineer. You are not an engineer."

  "So? What of it? Engineers can be bought, my love."

  "Where?"

  I shrugged. "Anywhere."

  "Where?" Her voice was edged with determination.

  "Many places."

  "Where?"

  "Ye gods! I don't know! I haven't even started searching yet, Luceiia."

  "Where will you start?"

  I shrugged again, suddenly uncomfortable with this inquisition. It seemed she was determined to be difficult. I was wrong, however, as her next words showed.

  "This is very important to you, Publius, so it is also very important to me, but I will not have you grubbing and digging around down there on your own, so think! If you had to find an engineer, urgently, for anything, where would you start looking?"

  I gaped at her, feeling the surprise on my face. "The army."

  "Exactly. The army. Surely you and Caius have enough friends and influence between you to arrange to borrow a decent engineer? What about Tonius Cicero? Could he not arrange something?"

  For the space of a few seconds I was filled with elation, but then my spirits slumped again. She was watching my face closely and noticed it.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I said. "And everything. It is a fine idea, but it would not work. Caius would never condone the use of imperial troops for a private operation like this, and when I think of it, I wouldn't, either."

  "Why not, if it benefits the army, too? I heard Tonius myself, during the wedding feast, saying that his people are always trying to find something to do to give their men experience in different areas. It seems to me that this operation would make an exciting training project — a tactical exercise in the physical removal of large volumes of water."

  I couldn't get close enough to her to kiss her, but she came to me. "My love," I told her, "you are your brother's sister!"

  "No, I am the wife of Publius Varrus." I hugged her to me with one arm and looked above to the silent birds wheeling overhead.

  The eagles were still there when I returned exactly one month later and sat in the same spot with a small group of serving officers, a special team assembled from Glevum, Venta Belgarum and the great gold mines of Dolocauthi in the mountains of Cambria. Each of these men was a professional in the manipulation of water, and Verecundius Secundus, the senior among them, was directly responsible for drainage and water flow at Dolocauthi itself, where two great open-channel aqueducts, one of them seven miles long, delivered three million gallons of water a day to wash the crushed, gold-bearing ore. Secundus had the responsibility of maintaining the great wooden water wheels that drained all of the overflow of this water from the open-cast workings and the underground galleries of the mine, some of which went down more than a hundred feet.

  The group sat silent for a spell, each man gazing around him, noting the fall of the land below, the steepness of the gradients and the angle of the retaining wall of the dam-like structure on which we sat. "Well, Secundus? How does it look to you?"

  "Cicero was right." He did not look at me, his eyes still busy gauging and estimating. "An interesting exercise. Straightforward enough, but a degree of difficulty that'll keep our trainees on their toes." He glanced at me, and then at Rufus Seculus, his colleague from Venta. "I like it. I think we should do it. Rufus?"

  Rufus Seculus grunted. "Aye. As you say, though, there are problems. It's not going to be an overnight job. This is going to take a lot of planning. Hit that hillside the wrong way and you could wash a lot of men away when that juice squirts out. Especially since we'll be using trainees and not experienced sappers. What's your opinion, Rasmus?"

  Erasmus Lecio was the third member of the group, a grey-haired veteran of many wars. He had been listening to their exchange with his lips pursed and a frown of concentration on his face. Now he spat a glob of phlegm and spoke.

  "I think if we tackle this without at least a major contingent of veterans we should all face a court martial. It's a good training project — I've got no objections on that ground — but it could be nastier than a sharp-toothed whore. I'd hate to have to rely on green sappers all the way in this one. You're right, Seculus. This dam is new, from the looks of it, and it wasn't built by Romans. No telling what kind of mess is underneath us, or how unstable it is. Every shovelful that comes out of the sap down there could be the critical one that's holding the whole whoreson lake in check. I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for it if some green trainee who doesn't know his rectum from his throat makes a mistake and empties the whole sewer at the wrong time. Let's do it, by all means, but let's be sure we know what we're doing, every step of the way."

  Seculus turned back to me. "What did you say you wanted this drained for?"

  I grinned. "There's a stone buried in the mud at the bottom of it. I want it."

  "I thought that's what you said. A stone. In the mud. Did you throw it in yourself?"

  "No." I grinned. "It fell in."

  "I see. And now you want to get it out. Is it a big stone?"

  "I think so."

  "You think so."

  I could see by his face he thought I had lost my wits, but he was not going to insult me openly to my face by saying so.

  "Have you any notion of how much mud there is at the bottom of a lake, Master Varrus?"

  I nodded, still smiling. "Quite a lot, I should imagine."

  "It doesn't dismay you?" I shook my head, and his eyes narrowed as he asked, "What are you really after?"

  "I told you. A stone. A big stone in the mud at the bottom. L
ook, Seculus, I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth, and if I told you any more you would really think me sick in the head. I think the stone is really there, and it is valuable to me, and only to me. At least, I think it is valuable. It may not be. But I have to find it first, before I'll know." Their expressions were wondrous to behold and I laughed aloud. "I swear I'm speaking truth. Come, let's go back down to the villa. By the time we get there it'll be almost dark. Over dinner tonight, I promise you, Caius Britannicus will tell you the whole story. In the meantime, even if you do not believe it, and even if the stone is not there, your trainee engineers will have gained the experience of draining a lake and no harm, will have been done, except to my dreams."

  They accepted this, and later they accepted Britannicus's story of my quest for the stones from heaven, and because they were who they were, they asked intelligent questions that I tried to answer as well as I could. Thereafter, they went about their tasks of planning and organization as if it were the most natural and the most urgent thing in the world that the millions of gallons of water and mud between me and my skystone should be removed with the utmost possible haste.

  The three military men returned with an army of engineers and sappers before the end of the following month, and within days of their arrival a military camp was well established in the valley and the work was under way. It proceeded with all necessary caution for, as Erasmus Lecio had pointed out on that first inspection, there was no way of determining how thick the dam was on the lakeward side, or how far the waters had penetrated the rubble of the dam itself. It was dangerous work every foot of the way, but it was not until mid July that the first seepage occurred. From then on, it was merely a matter of time — a little more cautious digging, and then the wait for the water of the lake to find its own way out.