by Isaac Asimov
“After all,” said the other. “You’re the governor’s aide, Marcus. If you can’t convince him, I don’t see how the rest of us can.”
“Maybe if we all spoke to him, in a formal meeting —” Marcus started.
“Sorry;” said one of the other officers. “I have no wish to risk my career on predicting the behavior of these savages.”
“I would watch my tongue if I were you,” said the other. “You don’t want to make the governor doubt your judgment in the future.”
The other two officers walked away. Marcus sighed and looked around. Hunter hurried up to him.
“Good evening, Tribune.”
“Ah, Hunter. I wish it was. I’m glad to see you are well, however.”
“I could not help but overhear part of your conversation,” said Hunter. “I know that Roman army matters are none of my business, as a traveling trader, but would you like to talk, just between friends?”
“I could use a friend right now,” Marcus said grimly. Then he grinned wryly. “No, that’s too strong. Governor Varus has been a good mentor. But he just can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
“Jane and Gene told me you had a clash with the Germans today. You feel more is to come?”
“I’m certain of it.”
“Have they skirmished like this with you before?” Hunter asked. “You Romans, I mean.”
“No, not recently. Not since Prince Arminius and the Cherusci tribe were given status with the Empire. That was before I received my assignment here.”
Hunter nodded, trying to convey concern. “Would you have ridden out today, if Jane and Gene had not enlisted your help in their own search?”
“No, I don’t think so. But I was glad to do it. Don’t make any mistake about that.”
“You have been very kind.” Hunter considered what little information he had. Knowing that he could make no more than a poorly educated guess, he estimated that so far, Marcus and the Germans had engaged in no more than a minor historical change. He simply had to stop the damage right away.
“It’s nothing, Hunter. Besides, if I hadn’t taken them out today, I would never have received further evidence of German hostility.”
“What casualties were sustained? On either side?”
“None for us, except for a few scratches and bruises. I think we made a better showing against them, but they carried their wounded away.”
“So perhaps no retaliation is really called for. You already got the best of them.”
“Well … I guess you could look at it that way.” Marcus grinned, finally.
“Tribune,. I shall tell my party that we shall not interfere with you any further. Your army duties must come first. I feel that we are entirely to blame for disrupting your normal routine. Please accept my apologies.”
“Not at all, Hunter. I was glad to help. But I will respect your wishes, of course.”
“I do not want to disturb you further,” said Hunter. “I shall rejoin Jane and Gene.”
“As you wish. You will all be my guests for dinner, of course.” Marcus nodded and walked away.
Hunter returned to Jane and Gene, who were standing near the governor’s tent.
“What do you think?” Jane asked. “Have we really made a bad mistake?”
“I told him we shall not interfere with army routine again,” said Hunter. “If the German ambush of this army takes place as it should, then we have not caused irreparable harm to the sequence of events.”
“What do you want us to do now?” Gene asked.
“I want to reunite the team,” said Hunter quietly, looking around to make sure none of the Romans was close enough to listen. “However, attempting to bring Steve here tonight does not seem wise.”
“Do you want us to go with you?” Jane tugged her cloak tighter around her. “We’ve had a long day, but if we have to go, then we have to go.”
“No. I don’t want to take you two away from the safety of the Roman camp for tonight.”
“Are you going to go after him yourself?” Gene asked. “That means we split up again.”
“Unwise, also, I think,” said Hunter. “I cannot reunite the team by shuttling back and forth between you two and Steve. I shall spend the night here.”
“Are you going to explain to him what’s going on?” Jane looked out across the darkening forest. “Maybe we could make plans to meet tomorrow.”
“No. Since Steve no longer has a communicator pin, calling him is not possible.”
“Then our plan of action begins tomorrow,” said Gene.
“Yes,” said Hunter. “For now, we shall merely accept Roman hospitality and safety for the night.”
Steve returned with Vicinius to his village with growing pessimism. They had basically wasted the day walking in a big circle. Steve was getting tired of wasting so much time looking for MC 3.
At least he found dinner hot and plentiful. That night he accepted a bowl of stew made from chunks of boar meat with a variety of nuts and grains. Steve supposed the latter had been part of the fall harvest. He sat with Vicinius and Odover at the fire in the waning sunlight, eating quietly.
The sound of a horse’s hooves caused everyone to turn. A tall, burly German in furs rode bareback into the village, followed by a large party of German warriors on foot. He had shoulder-length blond hair and a proudly grim expression. Many of the villagers leaped up to greet him. Odover, the village chief, laid down his bowl near the fire and got to his feet slowly, with the dignity of age.
“Prince Arminius,” Vicinius whispered to Steve quickly. “Remain here. Lately, he has not been fond of strangers who come from west of the Rhine.”
Steve nodded. Vicinius jumped up and joined his father, walking to meet their new visitors. All through the village, people were running up to shout greetings to Prince Arminius, especially the young warriors.
Amid all the shouts, Steve had difficulty hearing what anyone was saying. Of course, he already knew the purpose of Prince Arminius’s visit; he had to be gathering warriors for his attack on the Romans. Steve was surprised, however, to see that he was not just a loudmouthed rabble-rouser. Within several minutes, the villagers were standing quietly as he moved among them, greeting individuals and talking to them one at a time. Steve could see the warriors of the village pushing forward to hear him speak.
From the phrases and snatches of conversation Steve could hear, Prince Arminius was simply encouraging everyone, talking about the pride and strength of the Cherusci tribe. Other members of his entourage were doing the same, greeting friends of their own in the village. The warriors of Odover’s village were excited and hoisted their spears in greeting.
Vicinius returned to Steve, grinning, and sat down with him again. “Prince Arminius is very popular. He is a brave warrior and leader. As the son of Odover, I had to greet him with my father.”
“Of course. Don’t worry about me. If you need to talk to the rest of them, go ahead.”
“No, I am ready.” He looked at Steve carefully. “We must drive the Roman soldiers from our country. A trading party, now, that is different. You come in friendship. But I am ready to answer Prince Arminius’s call. And now I expect it to come soon.”
Steve nodded. “I understand. No one wants to be ruled by others.”
“Vicinius!”
Vicinius turned and looked up. “Hello, Julius.”
“Hah. When we have run these Roman dogs out of our land, we will drop these Latin names again, eh?” Julius glared at Steve. “Who is this foreigner?”
“My guest,” Vicinius said firmly. “He is seeking a lost companion, in fact. A short, slender man, touched by the gods and wandering in the forest. If you —”
Julius’s eyes narrowed. “What about him?”
“You know where he is?” Steve stood up suddenly. “I need to find him.”
“Vicinius, who is this man?” Julius demanded.
“He is Steve, the slave of a trader from Gaul.” Vicinius got up, also, an
d pushed in front of Julius.
“A Roman spy, more likely.” Julius shoved Vicinius aside. “And he has heard too much here tonight.”
“I’m no spy,” Steve said mildly, figuring that a slave might be rather meek in the face of an angry warrior. “I’ve been separated from my —”
“I say you are!” Julius put a large hand against Steve’s chest and shoved.
“Hey!” Steve slapped his hand away, stumbling backward from his assailant’s greater weight.
“He is my guest!” Vicinius grabbed Julius’s arm.
As Steve regained his balance, he saw Julius swivel and punch Vicinius in the stomach, catching him by surprise. While Vicinius fell to his knees, doubled forward, Julius reached for a large knife in the side of his leather belt. A few of the other villagers gasped in shock, but most had not yet even noticed the sudden action.
Steve knew instantly that he could not fight Julius hand to hand once the German warrior was ready. This was his only moment to strike. Just as Julius yanked the knife out, Steve launched himself forward in a flying tackle, grabbing Julius around the waist. Steve drove him backward and down.
The moment they landed on the cold, soggy ground, Steve rolled off and kicked Julius’s hand. The knife rolled free, but did not go very far. Steve scrambled for it, but Vicinius snatched it up and stood, holding it in a fighting position as he faced toward Julius.
“Stop!” Vicinius ordered.
By now, other villagers had gathered around them. Their shouts of alarm and surprise had stopped as they watched to see what would happen next. Steve stood up and edged around behind Vicinius, eyeing Julius suspiciously.
“You will respect my guest in this village,” Vicinius said coldly. He tossed the knife down at Julius’s feet.
“Julius.” Prince Arminius spoke firmly, striding through the crowd as others made way for him. “Save your energy for the Romans. We must go.”
Steve said nothing as Prince Arminius turned with a swirl of his fur cloak and strode back toward his horse. Julius angrily grabbed his knife and stomped after him. Most of the crowd of villagers followed them.
“You are quick,” said Vicinius. “I almost tossed you my own knife and just let you fight it out.”
“Really?” Steve grinned wryly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m no fighter.”
“I had to stop him. Julius may not assault any guest of mine. You are under the protection of my hospitality here.” Vicinius gave him a slap on the shoulder that jarred him.
“I think he knows something about MC 3,” said Steve. “Did you see how he reacted? Can we find out?” He started after Prince Arminius and Julius.
“No. Not now.” Vicinius grasped his arm and held it firmly, stopping him.
“Can you help? Maybe Prince Arminius —”
“No,” he repeated with finality. “Prince Arminius is in no mood to talk about anything but war against the Romans. Nor will Julius speak with you. Remain here.”
Steve did not resist. As Julius and Prince Arminius gathered the rest of their party, he looked around in the trees at the edge of the village. Night had fallen, leaving the forest too dark for him to see much, except in the dim, flickering torchlight that reached that far.
“I wish Hunter was here,” Steve muttered.
Vicinius said nothing, but he released Steve’s arm. Together, they watched the visitors leave the village. Even after they had left, the warriors of the village remained gathered, talking excitedly among themselves.
“The time for action is coming,” said Vicinius quietly. “Coming soon.”
Steve nodded. “And MC 3 is still out there.”
18
WAYNE SPENT THE early evening watching in a mixture of relief and amazement as Ishihara made a small lean-to. Ishihara used only fallen logs and dead branches, carefully avoiding damage to any living plants. When he had finished the shelter, he gathered deadwood and made a small fire.
By the softly crackling fire, Wayne ate more of his packaged food and then bundled up under the lean-to for the night. Ishihara sat against a tree trunk, ready to tend the fire through the night. With the fire for warmth and the robot standing guard, Wayne slept very well.
In the morning, Wayne ate while Ishihara carefully took apart the lean-to and scattered the pieces around the forest floor. Wayne felt that the precaution was not necessary, but he did not bother to argue. He was just glad to have Ishihara’s help.
“What is our plan today?” Ishihara asked.
“We’re going to hang out by that village again, remember? And look for MC 3.”
“All right. As soon as I put out the fire completely, we can go.”
Wayne got to his feet and looked up at the sky. It was still gray, of course, but no rain was falling. If he was lucky, they would grab MC 3 that day, before the weather turned worse, and they could go home.
At first light, the Roman bugler woke the entire Roman camp, including Gene and Jane. As the legionaries began to bustle with activity, Hunter waited outside the tent for Gene and Jane to rise and dress. As before, the sky was gray and the air moist and damp, but no rain was falling. Gene joined him; Jane left the tent and hurried toward the latrine. No Romans were nearby.
“I am going to search for Steve alone today, after all,” said Hunter.
“What?” Gene looked at him in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want to shuttle back and forth between us and Steve anymore. Look, Jane and I can be ready to go pretty quickly. We just need some breakfast and that won’t take long. We won’t slow you down.”
“I considered this problem during the night,” said Hunter. “I feel that both of you will be safest with the Romans until shortly before the actual ambush. You told me you cannot give me the date of the battle, but can you estimate if it is imminent?”
“Well, maybe this will help,” said Gene slowly. “The German ambush took place when the Roman troops were moving through a rugged mountain pass. It was between the Weser River, which is visible down the slope right below us, and the sites of some German cities that don’t exist yet. I would say we’re getting pretty close to the spot.”
“That may help.” Hunter reviewed the terrain he had seen the previous day in the direction that the Romans would travel after breaking camp. “I do not believe any mountain passes are within today’s marching distance.”
“Then it won’t happen today.”
“All right. That is good. I shall go straight to Vicinius’s village this morning, since I left him with Steve out in the forest yesterday.”
“What should we do? We can meet you out there someplace if you want.”
“No, we shall lose track of each other again,” said Hunter. “I shall bring him back to the Roman army for tonight, meeting you wherever I can on the march. Tomorrow morning, when we are all together again, we can leave the Romans in time to avoid the battle.”
“Okay.” Gene shrugged.
“Tell Jane the current plan,” said Hunter. “I should begin my journey.”
“Got it.”
Hunter did not bother requesting a horse, since that might cause another minor historical change; his team had risked enough of those. Besides, he could reach the village on foot soon enough for his purpose. The question of whether Marcus would still decide to burn a village because of Hunter’s team had sharpened his concern over small changes starting larger ones.
The sentries at the gate opened it for Hunter as he approached. He merely nodded his thanks and slipped out into the forest again. If he could reach Steve by midday, as he expected, then he could at least have his team together again by night. As the battle approached, he was determined to have his team together where he could keep them safe. MC 3 could wait until they were reunited.
Marcus arranged for Gene and Jane to ride with him at the head of the Roman column with Governor Varus. This was a little unusual for guests, but the governor said nothing about it. Marcus had come to feel responsible for them. On the march, he rode on the governor’s
right, with Jane and Gene to the right of him.
Advance patrols were riding out, as usual, to check the road. Marcus had asked them to take special pains in looking for signs of hostility, but he had not succeeded in convincing them that the governor was overconfident, either. Besides, as an aide to the governor, he had prestige but no direct authority in their chain of command.
When the column halted for its midday meal and a rest, Marcus reined in and looked out across the country ahead before dismounting. “Well, it could be worse, I guess.”
“What do you see?” Jane asked.
Marcus pointed into the distance. “For the rest of today, the road skirts the edge of this mountain, high upon the slope. And the ground above us is fairly clear — it only has some scrub trees and open meadows. No one can hide up there to attack us. If they come across that area from somewhere else, we’ll have plenty of warning.”
Governor Varus had already dismounted and handed his reins to a groom, but he looked up with a weary smile. “Tribune, I’m glad you feel safer now than you did this morning.” Shaking his head, he walked away.
Marcus sighed and dismounted as well. Then he saw one of the advance patrols returning to the column, where they would report to the centurion who was their immediate superior. “Excuse me a moment, will you?”
“Of course,” said Jane, jumping to the ground. “I’ll take a little walk.”
“I’ll just relax right here,” said Gene. “And try not to get in the way.”
Marcus picked his way through the crowd of legionaries and horses to the advance patrol. They had dismounted and were holding their horses impatiently, anxious to be dismissed. The commander of the patrol, a man named Adrianus, was breathlessly giving his report. Marcus approached them to listen.
“… so many villages in the area that are empty,” Adrianus was saying.
“What?” Marcus interrupted. “Excuse me, centurion, but I want to hear this, too. Adrianus, you say that some German villages are completely empty?”
The centurion, a man named Fabius Albinus, waited patiently. Marcus was glad; the centurion would be within his rights to tell the governor’s aide to go away. Of course, at some point in the future, he could find that annoying the governor’s aide unnecessarily had been a mistake.
