“Wall? Around Reme?” Manny stared at him as if he were insane. “Why would the citizens have done that? ‘Twas not Babylon or Ninevah, after all!”
“I thought we were discussing its morals. But if they didn’t have a wall, what happened when the Etruscans attacked?”
“ ‘Attacked’? Surely that is too strong a word for two bands of young bloods who steal a few maidens from one another!”
Matt stared. “But… but Lars Porsena… Horatio at the bridge…”
“Ah! I have heard of Horatio. He it was who persuaded Lars Porsena and the other Etruscan noblemen to come confer with the elders of the Latini, under a tent on the broad plain beyond the Tiber! He it was who quieted their acrimony, who showed the Latini how the raids and even the deaths wrought by the young men’s skirmishes appeared through Etruscan eyes-and Lars Porsena, not to be outdone, explained for his folk how the raids must have looked to Latini eyes. They built a bridge indeed, a bridge of understanding between people! Worse luck,” he said, in a sudden change of mood. “There are better pickings for manticores when war bellows loud about the land.” He licked his lips, remembering the taste of human blood. Matt had to get his mind off that subject. “So what did they do about the raiding?‘
“Why, each nation agreed to restrain and rebuke their young men, but to allow them to come courting properly, if they wished-and, to drain off their youthful urge for swordplay and glory, they established the Circus, where the young men could fight with blunted swords for fame-and even fortune, for both peoples paid into a fund to confer prizes upon the winners.”
“The gladiators were free men?” Matt stared. “Of course.” Manny scowled down at him. “What would you have had them be-slaves? How valiantly would they fight, who were forced to?”
It did make a lot more sense than the way Matt’s Romans had done things. “So the Remans didn’t defeat the Etruscans, they married them?”
“Aye, and out of their union grew the great empire of Latruria, whose soldiers marched out to protect all the civilized world from the howling hordes of barbarians.”
Well, Matt had heard that line before. “Sure-and they protected all the other nations so well that they wound up owning them.”
Manny shook his head. “ ‘Owned’ is too strong a term. They led, they showed the Greeks and the Egyptians the Latrurian way of fighting, and learned theirs; they learned from every nation they protected, and taught them the use of the legion. But ‘conquered’? No. Each nation in turn asked to join the Federation of Latinis and Etruscans, and Latruria was glad to embrace them, for the barbarians were growing in numbers and skill. It was too much to ask that each nation be accorded a syllable in the name of the empire, though, so Latruria it remained-not Latruri-greegyptolibiberi-”
“I get the point,” Matt said quickly. “So it was a friendly federation of states that just happened to be ruled from Reme, huh?‘
Manny shrugged. “It was Horatio who built the bridge of understanding; it was his countrymen who excelled as diplomats and teachers-aye, and in commerce, too. Of course the Senate met in Reme, and just as surely, every provincial nobleman longed to see Reme before he died.”
“And all voluntary and from enlightened self-interest,” Matt said, feeling numb. “How about Judea?”
“Those stiff-necked fanatics?” Manny said with a snort of disapproval. “They who would not ask Reme’s help, Reme wisely let be, but when the Medes-”
“Medes?” Matt frowned. “I thought the Eastern empire was Persian.”
“Nay. Alexander had sounded the death knell of the Persian empire long before. ‘Twas the Medes.”
Matt shrugged. “One man’s Mede is another man’s Persian. So what did they do to the Jews?”
“Why, conquered them, of course. They pounced upon the Jews and conquered them with the Latrurian way of waging war. Then Judeans wished then that, rather than be conquered by a member of the Federation, they had accepted the help Reme offered.”
“Sure-members of the Federation would have been barred from fighting one another.” Matt felt numbed. “I assume the Medes used Reme’s laws and penalties?”
“All did.” Manny pursed his lips, puzzled. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making a guess as to what might have happened to a man convicted of blasphemy. Crucifixion was still the penalty, I guess-even though it wasn’t Romans who did it.”
“Remans!”
“Right,” Matt sighed. “Remans. What did they do about Carthage?”
Manny grinned. “Outbid them, of course, time and time again-and Carthage would not hear of a merger. After the defeat, it was the visionary statesman Hannibal who convinced his countrymen that if they could not beat the Remans, they should join them. Therefore did he send an embassy to Reme with rich gifts-”
“Including elephants?”
“Then you have heard the tale!”
“No, but something like it. So Carthage stayed Carthage, but joined the Federation?”
“It did indeed, and became a mighty power for welding the empire together with strands of gold and silver.”
“Commercial colonialism got an early start here,” Matt reflected wryly. “Hard to see how an empire like that could ever fall.”
Manny shrugged. “Did it fall? Or was it merely too successful? It civilized the barbarians all about it, after all-even the Huns, when they hacked and slew their way in; but the legions engulfed them, punished their leaders, and sent them home with rich gifts for their kings.”
Matt stared. “The Huns joined the empire?”
“No, but they learned from it, and ceased to roam the steppes with their herds. They became herders still, but within their own farms-if you can call it a farm, when it encompasses miles and has only grazing land and fields of oats…”
“I’d call it a ‘ranch,’ ” Matt said sourly. “If they managed that with the Huns, what happened to the Gauls and the Germans?”
“Oh, they became more Reman than the Remans! Even those silly folk on that northern island who painted themselves blue and stiffened their hair with chalk, even they began to build Reman houses and baths, and wear Reman clothes! But they began to think that they could fare better by themselves, and broke away from the Federation. Then older states followed their lead and one by one declared themselves independent. Reme looked up one day and discovered that it was alone, though it had many friends. But when those friends began to make war upon one another, it had no justification for seeking to stop them. Oh, they sent diplomats to plead and explain, but the Gauls and Germans and Goths, in their pride, would not listen. Then at last, the Vandals, in their arrogance, sacked Reme, and the day of empire was most definitely done. Hurt and angered and bitter, the men of the Tiber turned inward, rebuilding their city and swearing to care no more about the other nations, only to take care of their own.”
“So.” Matt glowered down at his lute. “They finally built Romulus’ wall for him, eh?”
Manny turned to him, startled. “An odd thought-but when I think of it that way, you are right. It is not a wall of bricks and stones, but of pride and bitterness-yet it is nonetheless a wall.”
Matt looked up. “Where did you learn all this? You don’t strike me as the bookish sort.”
“I have not struck you at all,” the manticore returned, “though I was tempted at first.”
“Evading the question, huh?‘
“Not at all.” Manny drew himself up. “How do I know all this? I and my forebears have long memories, man!”
Matt stared. “You saw?”
“Not I myself, but my great-grandsire. Well, he did not see Romulus and Remus,” the manticore admitted. “If you wish my opinion, I think they were naught but myths. But my great-grandsire came to life when the Latini were still rough tribesmen and the Etruscans already cultured gentlemen. He saw Horatio, but could not come near the tent to hear the great conference between Horatio, Lars Porsena, and their respective elders. He saw them come out of the tent in amit
y, though, and was severely disappointed.”
Yes, because peace meant leaner pickings. Matt hurried to change the topic. “How much of it did you personally see?”
“Only the breaking apart itself.” The manticore sighed. “I came to life about seven centuries ago. I thought then that it boded well for me and my kind, for state would war upon state-and I was right. Then the sorcerers came-”
“And they muzzled you?”
“Muzzled, aye, and harnessed,” Manny said with disgust. “I had begun to wonder why I bothered living, till you came to amuse me.”
“Nice to know I have a purpose in life.” So the empire had only been dead a couple of centuries before Hardishane came marching out of Gaul to reunite the whole of Europe and squash the sorcerers, or at least drive them back far enough so that they didn’t do much damage. Obviously, therefore, the sorcerers had proliferated during the breakup; Matt thought he saw their hand in the warring between Gaul and Germany and between Gaul and Iberia. He wondered about the full story of the behind-the-scenes power plays between Good and Evil. Well, maybe he’d have time to do the research someday. Of course, he didn’t have his Ph.D. yet, but it would make a great dissertation topic. Well, he’d worry about it in the morning-say a morning a few years away. For now, the talk had canned him; he was even beginning to feel a bit sleepy. He wasn’t the only one-all about him sodden snores drenched the night and lovers lay sleeping in one another’s arms. A few roisterers still teetered by the light of the moon, but from the way they swayed, they’d be down soon enough, too. “It’s looking almost safe,” Matt said. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into standing guard while I catch a little sleep?”
Manny shrugged “ ‘Tis the least I can do, considering the vast number of sheep and cattle you have bought me these last days. Not quite so tasty as-”
“Yes, well, if you’re hungry, I can always find a few more,” Matt said quickly. “Do not bother; I shall behave.” But Manny looked about him hungrily. “Sleep, and have no worries.” He turned his back, but not quite quickly enough; Matt heard him muttering about the atrocious waste. Well, if he couldn’t trust the manticore, he could at least trust Pascal’s grandfather’s spell. Matt turned over, cradled his head on his arm, and didn’t quite have time to be surprised at how quickly he fell asleep. He woke up. Under the circumstances, that rated as an accomplishment. He woke up and looked around carefully. The manticore was curled up cat style right next to him, the stinger on its scorpion tail sticking out of the ball of fur. Asleep or not, Manny was a guardian to give would-be assassins second thoughts. Matt started to sit up… The stinger whipped around and poised above him. Matt froze as Manny uncoiled enough to reveal wide-open eyes filmed with sleep. “Who stirs?”
Matt had moved barely eighteen inches, and that pretty slowly. “Light sleeper, are you?”
“Deep, but I waken quickly nonetheless. It is only you, then?”
“Just me.” Matt swallowed. “I was, uh, thinking about getting up.”
“Go, then. You can defend yourself when you are awake-if you do not let females of your kind hold your attention.”
“That wasn’t what you think.”
“No, it was-for I think she pursued, and you sought to retreat. I confess I cannot understand your species.”
“It’s called ‘morality.’ ”
“As I said,” the manticore growled, “I understand it not.”
And that, Matt mused as he plodded down toward the little stream, was the manticore in a nutshell. Not that he was all that different from any other member of the feline family-it was just that, having a human face, Matt had sort of expected some other human attributes, such as a conscience. He should have known better-the double set of teeth should have tipped him off. It seemed that the manticore wasn’t the only one lacking an understanding. Everywhere Matt went, he heard isolated sobbing. Some of the girls were curled up weeping quietly next to their snoring mates; others were sitting up alone. Not all of them, no-not even a quarter-but too many. His heart twisted with the urge to comfort, but he knew better than to intrude. He found a copse of trees for his morning ablutions, knelt by the stream to wash his hands and face and shave with his dagger, then turned back toward the camp just as the girl in the home-made noose jumped off the stump.
Chapter 14
Matt took in the rope snaking up from the noose to pass over the limb overhead and down again to where it was tied around a lower branch, but by that time he was already running, yanking his sword out, and he managed to slash through the rope just before the girl hit the top of her arc. She crashed to the ground with a cry of anger and despair, then rolled up to her knees, huddled and sobbing. Matt sheathed the sword and went to her slowly, wondering what to do, what to say. “Do” was obvious enough-comfort her-but what to say while he did it? The girl solved the problem for him. As he knelt down beside her, she moaned, “Go away! Is not my shame enough, but that you must see it, too? Gooooo!”
“I don’t see any shame,” Matt said firmly. “I only see a pretty girl, who could have a wonderful life, giving up when she doesn’t have to.”
“Does not have to!” The girl whipped about, glaring up at him. “What do you know about it? Losing your virginity is cause for a man to boast! For a woman, it is always cause for shame, even if she has gained a lover who will be true to her forever… And if he will not stay true…” Her face puckered, and she turned away as the tears flowed with renewed vigor. Matt held out his arms, but she ignored him, curled into a ball of misery. “Bess!” cried another girl’s voice, accompanied by a lot of thrashing and rustling of underbrush. “Bess! Where have you gone?” There was anxiety in the voice, even fear. “Here,” Matt called, then asked, “Is your name Bess?”
His only answer was a wail of grief. The thrashing stopped, and the other girl pushed the branches aside to stare in shock. “What have you done to her!”
“Only cut her down before she could stay up.” Matt climbed to his feet and went toward the new arrival. “She won’t take any comfort from me. See what you can do.”
The older girl stared at him as he went by. “You are too old for her!”
“I know,” Matt said over his shoulder, “but somebody else didn’t.” And he went on his way, resisting the temptation to look back, but hearing the soothing murmuring and the awful tearing cry as Bess threw herself into her friend’s arms. Matt hoped he would never learn the rest of the story. Had she only wakened to find her seducer gone? Or had he gone off after some other girl while Bess was still awake? Or something worse? No, all in all, Matt hoped he never found out-and if he met the man, he hoped he wouldn’t know it. As he went back toward Manny, he saw most of the people beginning to stir, sitting up with hands pressed to their heads and moaning, or crying as Bess had been crying. Here and there a couple sat up beaming into one another’s faces, but mere were definitely very few of them. “I have brought the magistrate! You will stand up and take your oath like a man, or you will go to the Devil!”
Matt turned, staring. Half a dozen hard-faced men were standing around a disheveled teenage couple with pitchforks poised to stab. “But I do not wish to marry!” the boy cried, and the girl’s head snapped up with a look of dismay that transformed into aching hurt. “You should have thought of that before you took her to bed,” a grizzled man said grimly. “But take her to bed you did, and you will marry her or die!”
“In front of a magistrate?” the boy wailed. A squire in a robe stepped up. “Aye, in front of me! I shall testify that it was justified! Up and swear, or die with my blessing!”
“You will marry, come back to the village, and settle down like the good husbandman you will become,” the grim old man snapped. “But I do not want to go home!” the girl wailed. “I want to go to Venarra!”
“The only way you will go there is if he goes ahead of you and finds work enough to support you both in decency! What, my lass, did you think there would be better than this for you in Venarra? You shall swear, too,
or we’ll spit him like a pig!”
Alarm in her face, the girl scrambled to her feet. “Come, Williken! I would not see you dead!”
The boy climbed to his feet, face thunderous. Matt decided not to linger. As he went away, he heard the magistrate beginning to intone the ritual. He did notice that there was no mention of God-but at least there was no mention of the Devil, either. He looked about the field, noticing a few other groups of men carrying scythes and pitchforks. Some of them had found their quarry and were holding them while they waited for the magistrate; some of them were still hunting. Matt wondered what kind of a life two kids could have if it began like this. Well, at least it would be legal… But there were no priests on hand, and he saw at least two parties digging graves. Some of the fights over women had gotten out of hand. Matt shuddered as he realized he could very easily have been one of the bodies being lowered into the ground, in hasty, improvised graves with nothing to mark them. He turned away from the sight, to look down at the sound of sobbing coming from nearby… And almost tripped over Pascal. Pascal looked like the eked-out remains of a secondhand illness. His face was battered and bruised-either several small fights or one humdinger. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands trembled, and his face was the color of melted beeswax. He winced at the sound of Matt’s footsteps, and Matt could imagine the headache that produced such over-sensitivity. Pascal was hung over so far that he was about to fall in. His face was a container for misery, but even so, he sat with his arms about a young woman whose body was racked with sobs. His face was a study in consternation; he obviously didn’t have the faintest idea what to do, but felt the need to do something. “I know, Flaminia, I know,” he was murmuring. “It is the greatest of pains, to be scorned by one you love… Only two days ago-”
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