by James Gawley
Lucan came to stand beside him. “This is not wise.”
“No.”
“Sextus did not believe the gods existed. I doubt he believed in an afterlife.”
“Perhaps not.”
They were silent for a time. It was obvious that Sextus would not burn completely. A proper funeral pyre would’ve ensured that there was nothing left of him but ash. “You knew he was alive,” Primus said. Lucan did not respond. “You weren’t surprised to see him at the tree. Not like Furio.” The other scout had reacted with terror, then revulsion. He had been sure Sextus was dead. Gracchus had not been so shocked, but then Gracchus had never known the dead man.
“You weren’t surprised either.”
“No.”
Another silence fell. Then: “I knew he was alive,” said Lucan.
“Tell me why.”
Lucan sighed. “It’s complicated, Primus. The world does not balance on your personal sense of right and wrong. Varro was planning to mutiny. He knew the gold and silver were nearly all collected, and he wanted that for himself.”
Primus shook his head. “Why not execute him?”
“Preserving a legion in a place like this requires a constant balancing act. If we arrested Varro and executed him before he’s had the chance to act, then every man who has grumbled about the cold weather and short rations would start to think that he was next. But even an unsuccessful attempt at mutiny would be disastrous. Remember also that Varro was a very popular man. So we needed to discredit him and remove him in such a way that even his followers would believe he was guilty. His vendetta with Sextus made the murder very plausible.”
“How did Titus come to ‘witness’ your murder?”
“He was caught helping Sextus to desert. We made him an offer: if he went along with our plan, we would let Sextus go. If not, we would hunt the boy down and crucify them together.” What had Titus said to him? I’m sorry he brought you into this. I warned him not to.
“And you beat a confession out of Varro.”
“Perhaps we should have. It might have cowed him some. But we thought we could make a deal with him instead. In fact we would not have hurt him at all, but he was... tenacious. In the end he took our offer.”
Primus did not have the stomach to ask. Lucan indulged him anyway.
“Varro would go free when we took the legion east. We did not plan to take the slaves with us. Varro probably could have taken over the mine, knowing him. He could have ruled a little kingdom and dug silver out of the mountainside to his heart’s content. We thought that would satisfy him. It should have been enough.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No. It wasn’t.” Together they watched Sextus’ body burn down to bones, black ashes drifting down to darken the snow.
When the flames began to gutter, Lucan insisted that they mount. Primus still needed help climbing onto his horse, for his leg was stiff and sore where Varro had stabbed him. The road was treacherous even in the morning light, and they rode single-file. Primus rode behind the legate, staring at his back. Lucan’s iron cap was dented, and his fine white cloak was soiled from sleeping on the earth. The chests of gold clinked with the motion of his horse.
Primus could not believe the weight they had let him carry. The lie that sent Varro to the mine, that led to his father’s death–all this time, Primus had thought it belonged to Titus and himself. But it was really Lucan’s lie, and the old man’s... and probably his father’s too. General Seneca must have known the truth. Why did he let them do it? Primus asked himself. He had been so proud of his father’s courage... but the elder Seneca had let himself be dragged along by the Venators, the same as his son. Primus vowed that he would not be used the way his father was, to serve the ends of ambitious men. Primus would cleave to his honor, no matter what the cost.
High above, the wind skirled through the branches of greatwood trees that had stood for centuries, mocking the tiny vows of men.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book began as a single-sentence writing exercise. The assignment was to craft a compelling opening line without any particular story in mind, then to build on that line and ‘see where it takes you.’ That was ten years ago.
If you are going to try this exercise, I urge you to proceed with caution.
My dedication to this material for the past decade is not the result of single-minded perseverance. The fact is that I had an audience from word one: a devoted group of friends and fans who eagerly devoured each and every chapter the instant it was finished. They have watched this world grow from a single sentence to... whatever it is now. They will continue to watch as I build on this foundation and explore new characters and new facets of Arcadia. They are my personal heroes, and their names deserve acknowledgement.
Joseph Kassab is my oldest friend. When we were children, he spent so much time at my house that for years I thought we were cousins. I’m still not completely convinced that we aren’t. From the first page of Exiles, Joey instantly grasped what I was trying to say. He understood what this project was before I did. For a writer, that kind of recognition is a powerful drug.
Marcus Figuerola has edited every word of every draft for ten years straight, including that first sentence that started it all. If you have enjoyed this story, the credit belongs to him as much as me. The same is true if you hated it. In fact if you would like to point out its flaws, I would be happy to give you his home address.
Bianca Badia is My Lady. This work is built upon the unshakeable foundation of her support. I hope you have someone in your life who means to you what Bianca means to me.
My brother John has whiled away hours of his life discussing the world of Arcadia with me. He has also rescued me from numerous scrapes, given me unquestioning shelter and friendship, and pointed out when I was behaving like a jackass. He is everything a big brother should be.
Roberto Anton has asked for more pages every time I have seen him for the past ten years. He has also contributed directly to the work, helping me to hammer out the economics and legal system of Arcadia.
Paul Downie has been my partner-in-crime for many years, and has worked hard to help me in marketing this book. He also designed my web presence and contributed to the cover art. (Please note that the above does not constitute an admission of guilt, as most of the crimes were Paul’s idea.)
My parents have believed in this story from the very first draft. They have also shamelessly plugged ‘Legionnaire’ at every opportunity–a gift I do not underestimate.
Lastly I’d like to thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed yourself, be assured that I intend to keep writing in this world for the rest of my life. I promise the next book won’t take ten years.
All the Best Wishes,
James Gawley.
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Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Prolouge
Citadel
Blame
Tests
Auguries
Extrordinarius
Silvermine
Fire
Woade
Legionnaire
Acknowledgements
