by J K Ishaya
"To our relief, a group of Dacian men, out hunting on horseback, came around the bend. They had already killed a deer and were on their way back to Apulon. They confirmed that Daizus and both groups of our other survivors had made it and accompanied us the rest of the way where we reunited with Vesina who came running out to greet us, embracing me and my father and then further examining Decebal. The old priest, none the worse for wear considering he’d accompanied a host of refugees to safety, had last seen our king in a strange state and so we took him aside to quietly explain our suspicions of how it had happened. That Bielis had not also arrived at Apulon further built upon those suspicions that he remained alive and very well elsewhere and that he had not only attempted to either drug or poison our king, but he had been the one to betray the location of one of our hoards. All of this Vesina considered with a deeply creased brow and finally a grim nod. In hindsight, he saw the evidence as well.
“We further learned that there were even more survivors than expected, farmers and their families who had fled the steppes around Sarmizegetusa upon the initial siege and burning, many of whom had managed to also bring horses and other livestock. This we could not have known before, having been trapped within the fortress walls. Vesina led us into the dava’s little center where these refugees had gathered, living out of pitched tents, tending a community fire under a large spit while the deer was cleaned and readied to roast. I started looking for my family with all of the previous desperation but to no avail. If a young girl child remotely giggled, my gaze darted to see if it was Breslin, cured of her thirsty malaise. If a boy piped up that he was ready to kill some Romans, I looked for Tsinna. Neither proved among them, but my senses remained on high alert.
“Then I saw her from a distance, small feminine build in a red dress stained with sweat and char, her hair bound upon her head while loose and frazzled wisps fell around her neck. She faced away from me, and I plowed forward, zigzagging so as not to run over those in my path. But when I reached her, touched her shoulder, the face that turned toward me was not that of Bendis. The disappointment jarred me but then I apologized for seeming untoward. By this point I was so tired, emotionally and physically, and holding myself up had become more painful than ever.
“I recall wandering after I mistook that young lady for my wife. I left the encampment and drifted into the woods, staring aimlessly ahead just enough to keep from walking right into a tree. I reached the other side of that forest and looked upon the meadowy slopes that reached up to where the small fort once stood. There was nothing but an outline of stone ridges left where a foundation had been, and untended sheep roamed, chewing out trails through the taller grasses. For the first time, my emotions and thoughts betrayed Dacia. I felt that perhaps Dacia should have given up to Rome decades ago, when this place first fell. How different things would have been. Would we be mindlessly assimilated into the Roman empire? Would I have been an officer serving Trajan and beating down other countries and tribes that put up the resistance that we had? These thoughts were private and yet left me feeling ashamed of myself.
“I found myself on my knees, my eyes burning with tears, and made a feeble attempt to pray. ‘Zalmoxis,’ I whispered, ‘how could you abandon us so? We are your people. If you are still listening at all, please—’ But I could not speak anymore. My voice was eaten up with despair, and I no longer believed that throwing myself upon a spear would do my people any good delivering prayers to a god who had clearly gone deaf.
“‘Zalmoxis,’ a voice growled behind me and I turned to look at my father, whose eyes were watery and tired, his skin appearing ashen and thin. ‘Useless. I am still embarrassed by my display over him in the temple.’ He spat disrespectfully on the ground.
“‘You were drugged,’ I reminded him.
“‘But I should have resisted it, I should have clung to my wits as fiercely as we’ve always fought those bastards.’
“‘In this heat, without water, you are lucky your wits did not boil out of your ears,’ I griped.
“He raised his brows in a look of remorse, took a long breath and nodded. As my head cooled, I turned to making plans with him. We all agreed to staying at Apulon to see if more survivors could catch up, then we could make our way north into the Freelands. Rome had barely touched the north, in the area known now as Moldova, and then there was Sarmatia, hundreds of miles east of us and wrapped around the northern part of the Black Sea, but we could find allies there. The next week was spent recovering, drinking plenty of water, eating to regain our strength.
"We were soon happy to have more survivors join us, some of them warriors from Sarmizegetusa, and one had even managed to recover one of our standards, a thing which heartened us all. To be able to present the Draco meant the ability to pull together more allies, to show that we had not been defeated. From there we could begin to plant the seeds of rebellion. Under Decebal, I and my men ventured out again and did what we were good at. We located smaller Roman encampments and, depending on their numbers and what we could manage, either snuck in and simply stole a few items, or if possible, killed everyone and wiped the camps clean of anything we could use from horses to food, and on one occasion we discovered and recaptured a cache of Dacian weapons. With our fortifications growing, we grew braver and possibly more stupid, pressing our luck. Rain finally came in that time, but not much, and so the landscape remained dry and dusty. Between raids, we patrolled the hills and forests around Apulon on our stolen horses. Within those insulating hills, it was deceptively easy to feel safe, that we were too tiny of a speck on the map to be discovered. Then one afternoon, Brassus and I came upon a contubernium with its Decanus but also a Centurion at the head, identified by the transverse crest on his helmet. We had been on horseback, but thankfully had tethered our mounts further up a trail head and from there been on foot for a good few miles. We watched the deceptively small Roman band from behind a barrier of boulders and shrub. ‘There are more coming,’ Brassus observed. ‘With the Centurion, there are at least nine more units in the area. Eighty men plus the auxiliaries. Probably not far around that bend.’
“I nodded grimly. ‘They're moving with purpose and coming this way. They know exactly where they’re going,’ I said under my breath.
"'Our time is up,' Brassus concluded and I nodded, while my guts sank with the disappointment.
"I gave the gesture to pull back and crawled away from our hiding place and rose to break into a run along the upper path, heading back to our horses and from there to camp. Brassus followed suit, closing in behind me. We kept to the higher path that our enemy was less likely to travel and notice our tracks, and then we reached the dava breathless, coming into the central gathering and dismounted to announce what we had just seen. Decebal emerged from his tent to listen and after some quick deliberation, declared that our little enclave would immediately disperse. The citizens in the Apulon dava were encouraged to gather what they could carry and begin a caravan into the Freelands. Those who were strong enough to fight were asked to stay as our king would not be leaving but would remove to set up a new war camp elsewhere.
“I had intended to go with him, but then he did what I had dreaded he would do ever since our quiet talk beside the Sargetia. He removed the wolf ring from his finger, the very item that identified a king, and placed it in my hand. He did this before a crowd of witnesses, and as I stood dumbfounded, my heart slammed in my chest and I felt light headed. I stared at the ring in my hand, warm and golden. Some details like the tips of the wolf’s ears and the nose, places that protruded, were somewhat worn but still clear as to what they were, what animal they represented.
“‘It is time,’ he said, ‘you are king now, and I am your general. But as a father to a son, I am telling you this. Take your men and go with Vesina and our populous into the Freelands. Return with a new army and take back what is ours.’
“‘Father,’ I whispered, unable to get my voice up. Within, I cringed like a frightened child. ‘I cannot do this, no
t yet.’
“‘You can, and you will,’ he said gruffly, and then raised his voice to address those surrounding us. ‘Who here agrees? Who here would elect Zyraxes Rex?’
“With the wolf ring still nestled within the dip of my open palm, I stared with fluttering nerves and an anxious stomach as a show of hands went up, each clenched into a determined fist. Brassus, Daizus, Scorylo, they all raised their hands. Scattered beyond them were other raised hands. Dozens upon dozens that belonged to faces whom I can no longer name, while here and there a child mimicked his or her parent with yet more little fists raised. These my doubtful mind dismissed as only imitating the adults. Standing at the head of them all and nearest to me was Vesina, in his dirty priestly robes and hat, holding his hand up as well. Slowly, shaking from raw nerves, I slid the ring onto my finger and held it aloft to show acceptance. They did not cheer, no. To do that might draw attention since we did not know how close the centuria might be by now. But they did dip their heads in reverence and my discomfort grew ten-fold.”
I shake my head and look at my hands, empty of any jewelry at all now. Howard notices my gesture and I hear his thoughts stir, wondering what happened to the ring. Wondering if I ever claimed the hoard. He keeps these queries in check and elects to wait, as patient as he might.
“I knew even then that Decebal’s intentions were to die, to leave the Romans thinking that we were without a king. The joke would be on them since the transfer of power had already taken place. The hoard Decebal had left for me was to stay beneath Kogaianon for the time being. To ride south to collect it would risk too much so soon after Sarmizegetusa’s fall. With only four of us left in the elite, my father assigned a large handful of men to me. I would ride bearing the standard to signal to other refugees along the way.
“So I said goodbye to my father, to the man who had raised me, who shaped and defined me as a man myself, who taught me that a crooked back could be an unexpected means to strength. Our two parties separated, with General Decebal riding southwest, and King Zyraxes riding north.
“We had a team of some ten pack horses carrying tents, water skins, and preserved food, while not all of our citizens were on horseback, so we took many breaks along the trails and passes, slowing down the journey. It was almost August by then. I often rode beside Vesina, who took it upon himself to begin my kingly counseling along the way. In the lingering heat, and our situation, I sometimes obliged him, while other times I grew snappish and uncooperative. When I fell back to ride among my new subjects, I often watched a particular father lead a horse on which sat two tired, dirty children, a boy and a girl, both smaller than my own had been, but my mind would wander, imaging that was me leading that horse, and my own sleepy cubs riding. I noticed, as well, that the mother of those children did not appear to be present, and I mourned for the young father no less than I did for myself. Other times, my mind wandered beyond keeping the remnants of my kingdom alive, and I wondered how Decebal faired on his end, for he had intended to cause as much distraction as possible to aid us in a clearer path.
“Around us, Daizus, Scorylo, and Brassus would branch off to scout, and within just the forth day of departing Apulon, the tide turned as they rode hastily to the front of our caravan to announce to me that we had a tail. Roman cavalry was coming upon us quickly. I admit to panic setting in as I could not stand the thought of any more Dacians dying under my watch. This panic spread down the column of travelers and voices started to rise only to be met with a ripple of hushes and then all were looking toward me again. I cringed despite myself and then looked all the way to the back, at the mix of nobles and peasantry, all reduced to the same status as refugees, and there were those two little children on that horse, the big brother sitting behind his little sister, staring back at me with wide, innocent eyes. Their father, standing at the horse’s head, also looked to me for answers, and I had none. All I could come up with were short-term strategies that would never solve the greater issue of Dacia’s survival. No, I could not save the entire country, not now. I could only save these few, my own people, even if it meant I personally would never see them again.
“One look at my face and Vesina began to beg me not to do it, even though he did not know what it I planned. His guess could not be far off. I made a hasty decision then, and it did not involve me continuing with the populous. We were near what was then called the Degis Pass which wove into the Northern Carpathians. It was one of many narrow passes that stretched on for miles upon miles with no other easy access, and was militarily unusable, but a thin line of refugees might make that journey with little issue. Once in there, they would be in a bottle neck where the Romans might attempt to attack the rear, but they could not successfully flank the caravan.
“‘I have to stay,’ I told Vesina, who begged me not to defy Decebal’s wishes.
“‘This is not what your father asked of you,’ he argued. ‘You are our king now.’
“‘The last I saw, Dacia was still capable of electing a new king, Vesina,’ I said evenly. ‘If it is to go on, it cannot look to only one man. You, however, will lead them at this time, and if the Romans come upon you before you reach the north—’ The next thing to come out of my mouth still sits foul on my tongue. ‘You will surrender.’ Vesina gasped and started to argue, but I hushed him and persisted. ‘You will throw away your priestly robe and hat and become an ordinary citizen. Holy men are as much of a threat as kings. Throw away your robes and they will not harm you, or any of these people because neither I, nor my men, will be among you to create a military threat. And those people over there,’ I gestured at a little huddle of nobles still sporting their felt hats or flourishes of jewelry that would continue to draw attention anywhere they went. ‘Take up their accouterments that signal nobility and wealth. Stash them away, if they insist on keeping them, but do not allow them to be seen. If asked, you are not of Sarmizegetusa but have gathered to move away from the conflict. Tell them… Tell them that you disavowed Decebal.’
“On Vesina’s still-disapproving look, I leaned closer into him, pressed my forehead to his and spoke more softly. ‘You know I am no king, Vesina,’ I whispered. ‘If anything, you…’
“‘Do not say that I am, boy,’ he snapped at me. ‘I am a representative of Zalmoxis.’
“‘Who clearly fucked us all,’ I hissed at him. ‘Where was he when our dava burned? Where was he when my wife and children were trapped in that tower?’
“‘You do not know that they were?’ he tried to counter, but it was weak, and he knew it, and in the end, he looked away and after taking a long, agonized breath, he nodded.
“With that, we continued on toward Degis Pass, emerging from a row of forest and out upon a meadow of tall grasses at the base of the western side of the eastern range of the Carpathians. To my relief, we found this path as much a dry tinder box as the region around Sarmizegetusa had been during the siege. The name of this pass meant burning, or bright, and it was this name which gave me a further idea.”
Chapter Eight
“At the mouth of the pass, my men and a handful of other warriors stayed on their horses, while I rode in with what was left of my people and then stopped to stand sentry as they passed me up and moved on into a narrowing gulch between mountains. I remember looking away when that young father walked past with his children on their one horse. To watch them too long might have caused me to change my mind and go with them all if only to add more protection to his cubs, but I knew that my very presence would endanger them all no matter.
"At last Vesina rode past me and looked over his shoulder one last time. I think I caught a streak of light reflecting on his cheek, a quiet tear perhaps. He raised the back of his hand in a numb wave and then turned away and reined his horse on after the vanishing group. I would never see him again, and while history in Romania does know of him, it does not know what happened to him any more than I do."
I pause, visualizing that retreating caravan fading through the pass and from my old life
as I watch the flame on one of the oil lamps burn steadily. "I like to think that is a sign that they all made it into the North safely and lived out their lives in freedom." They dissolve into that flame and from my mind.
"I rode back out of the gap, and Daizus and Scorylo fell in behind me, bearing torches and setting the dry foliage ablaze as we went to shield the departure of our last handful of citizens. The fire picked up and began to roar behind us, quickly spreading outward, following our path. We joined the others on the edge of the forest up the slope where we could look down the meadow for our followers to emerge from the facing woods and Brassus handed me the standard. We had kept it because it was the last thing our band of survivors needed to be caught with in their possession. Soon the flames caught up and we stood before an inferno that no man dared try to pass through, and as it rose and spilled black smoke into the sky, we essentially told our enemies where we were.
"My men drove their horses to my sides and, not much later, the Roman cavalry that had been hunting us appeared along the far tree line. They halted briefly, assessing the situation, and there we were, their quarry, poised and ready before a wall of flames. This tactic must have seemed foolish to them if they had not figured out what we were doing. We'd blocked off our rear retreat, but we'd also blocked them from going through. I felt the heat behind me stirring my hair, drying my skin. I let go of the reins and drew my falx, lowered it out from my horse's side. I lifted the standard to the scorching winds and heard the air howl through the bronze wolf's mouth, filling and lifting the windsock into a billowing tail and then I kicked in my heels to launch my horse into a full charge.
"I remember now that my mouth gaped wide, lips curled to bear teeth as I issued a war cry from my sore throat. I felt the powerful pound of the horse's hooves under me as I held on with only my legs, compressing the animal's flanks to full speed. In my periphery I saw Daizus and Brassus, with Scorylo just to my far outside right. They were shouting, too, all of us in unison, a crescendo of righteous indignation, and the men behind us did likewise, fanning out as we came. The Romans showed no fear, for they far outnumbered us, and when our forces clashed, I can no longer tell you exactly what happened in detail.
