by Alan Smale
He would not want to push this any harder before consulting Sintikala. Marcellinus decided to let it go for the evening and forced himself to relax.
—
Marcellinus came awake all at once, mouth still dry from the pipe, nerves jangling. The darkness pressed in on him.
Keeping his breathing even and his head still, he searched around with his eyes.
He felt it again: the merest of air movements, a faint rustle, and grabbing the pugio from under his pillow, he rolled off the bed and leaped forward.
He slammed into someone smaller and lighter than himself, who spun away with a yip of pain. Marcellinus barely registered the high-pitched sound before he snatched back his outstretched pugio lest it cut her.
He had bowled her over. He could see her silhouette now as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, sucking air back into her lungs.
Cautiously, he whispered: “Taianita?”
“Yes,” she croaked. “Please…do not kill me.”
Marcellinus stayed where he was. Anyone could bear a poisoned blade. “Why are you here?”
“Because Son of the Sun wishes to give you up to Avenaka,” she whispered.
“What?” He glanced at the door, which Taianita had eased shut behind her. Were men coming or outside already? Damn these Hesperian huts for having no windows.
Taianita sat up. “Not yet. Not here in Shappa. But he has sent runners north.”
Marcellinus rubbed his eyes. She was not an assassin. If Son of the Sun wanted Marcellinus dead, he would have sent the warriors first, probably several, to make sure the job was done quickly and quietly. “Did anyone see you come here?”
“I do not know. I tried to be a shadow.”
“Gods.” His mind whirled. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Come here, sit. Tell me what you know. Quietly.”
She perched beside him on the bed, still shivering in shock and fear. He draped his blanket over her shoulders. “Tell me.”
“Avenaka of Cahokia sent men here, envoys, soon after he defeated Great Sun Man in single combat.”
“Single combat? He…” Marcellinus swallowed. It didn’t matter. “Go on.”
“The envoys left only days before you arrived. They told Son of the Sun that Avenaka wants him as a brother so that they may rule the Mizipi together and be strong against the Iroqua. And also the envoys warned him about you, you exiles in your big canoe.
“Avenaka repents of his generosity to you. He is angered at the loss of his Hawk chief and the stories of the Wanageeska and Sintikala seeking alliances as they go downriver, forming a league against him. He says these are not the actions of people banished, never to return.”
“A league to resist the Romans,” Marcellinus said. “I sought no alliance with Son of the Sun against Avenaka. You know this.”
“Of course,” she said simply. “I am here.”
Marcellinus still was not thinking straight. Obviously Taianita believed him. “Anyway. So Son of the Sun was expecting us. But…then he offered to ally with me against Avenaka.”
“Yes. On the Temple Mound, Son of the Sun’s questions to you…He was wondering whether to be the brother of Avenaka or the brother of Wanageeska. Avenaka’s words to him were haughty, as of an older brother to a younger. But now that Son of the Sun knows you will not ally with him, he has decided to hold you here, delay you until the Cahokians arrive, and make a gift of you to curry favor with Avenaka.”
Marcellinus nodded.
“You knew of this?”
“No.”
“But it does not surprise you?”
“No.”
“Son of the Sun does not know Avenaka, but…in you he saw a man he might ally with to take Cahokia. Increase his rule over the Mizipi, become an even greater chief. Shappa Ta’atan is his, but Cahokia? Great City of the Mizipi? And so he measured you as a friend and ally, but you pushed him away, and so now…Now he will instead build faith with his Cahokian brother by delivering you to him. That is why he tempts you to stay, offers you hospitality for the winter. So that Avenaka can send warriors for you.”
The Great River twisted and turned, but a single runner could go straight on the trail. Still, it would take time. How long? Marcellinus did not know.
“Why not just…” He stopped. Bitter memories of the Iroqua captives in their corral flashed through his mind. Perhaps better not to say the words.
Taianita’s silhouette nodded. “You are liked,” she said simply.
“Liked?”
“By the people of Shappa Ta’atan. You and your men and women. You have made friends here, and they will be sad to see you leave. And you have been granted Shappan hospitality; you are here under Son of the Sun’s protection. And so he cannot just slay you or put you in a pit until the warriors of Avenaka come for you.”
A pit. Marcellinus almost felt the ground shifting beneath him even now. “And why are you telling me this?” he asked, although he already suspected.
“So you will escape and take me with you,” she said.
“Taianita, we are fugitives. Wanderers on the river with no home. We may die tomorrow. I would rather leave you here to live than take you with us to die.”
“And I would rather live free on a big canoe and die in a year than live my whole life as the slave of Son of the Sun.” Taianita leaned forward, and her hand found his. “Wanageeska. I beg you. I beg you.”
His face felt hot. “I…Please. You do not need to beg. I will see what I can do. But you should go now. Be a shadow again.”
“Of course.” She touched him once on the arm, very lightly. “I am a shadow. And now I go.”
—
They assembled into ranks outside the guest huts at dawn, weapons and possessions in hand. Akecheta moved up and down the line, pushing men into place, asserting his authority. For a dissonant moment Marcellinus felt pride at their discipline until he remembered the extraordinary odds they faced.
It was clear they could not fight their way out of Shappa Ta’atan. From the plaza where they lived and feasted and worked with the local warriors and metalsmiths it was a good half mile to the riverbank, and they would have to pass through the narrow guarded passageways that were the only breaks in the palisade. To have any real chance of escape they had to be outside the city to begin with. So they would have to try to start with persuasion…
Right on cue, here came Son of the Sun, with Taianita walking submissively five steps behind him.
The chief was alone, with no warriors nearby. If Marcellinus seized him now and put a knife to his throat…
Son of the Sun hand-talked: You leave?
“Yes,” Marcellinus said. “Once again we thank you for your hospitality, but it is time for us to go.”
Shappan warriors were appearing now, forming up between them and the gates. Marcellinus frowned. “Inside your walls we are under Shappa Ta’atani protection. Is it not so?” He signaled Speak words to Taianita, but Son of the Sun was already nodding and speaking his response in Caddoan.
Taianita came forward. “ ‘It is so. And I would have you remain within our walls so that we may protect you further.’ ”
“We will leave,” Marcellinus said. “Today. Do you bar your gates against us?”
Son of the Sun spoke. A look of surprise crossed Taianita’s face. She cleared her throat and, almost stammering, translated. “ ‘Warriors come from Cahokia…Avenaka wants you dead, Wanageeska, and your head on a spear. The same for Sintikala if she will not pledge allegiance. Your men slain and scalped. Your women he has offered to me as my slaves. And to all of this, I said no. And why? Because I am a fair and honest ruler, and you entered Shappa Ta’atan under my hospitality, and that cannot be betrayed.’ ”
Sintikala grinned, with no humor in it. “And so you would protect us from Avenaka?”
“ ‘For as long as you are within Shappan walls.’ ”
“Then we must go now, no delay.” Sintikala stepped forward, Marcellinus by her side. Kimimela
fell in behind her.
Akecheta snapped out a command, and the First Cahokian came to attention.
Son of the Sun nodded and stood aside.
His warriors, too, divided and formed an honor guard.
A clear path to the great gates of Shappa Ta’atan was hardly what Marcellinus had anticipated. He glanced again at Taianita, but her eyes were downcast, her face carefully formal.
And now Son of the Sun was warning him about Avenaka? Had Taianita been trying to trick him? Had it all been a lie in hopes that Marcellinus would free her from Son of the Sun?
Or was there still more to this than met the eye?
“By the left, march,” he said to Akecheta in Latin. “And be ready for anything.”
As the Cahokians moved forward, more warriors and townspeople came to line their path, but none tried to stop them.
—
The First Cahokian paraded out of Shappa Ta’atan. Unusually, most of them were even marching in step.
The warriors of Shappa Ta’atan watched them go. Many looked wistful. Whether it was envy of the Roman weaponry, disappointment that they wouldn’t get to have a crack at facing the Cahokians in combat, or genuine sadness that the visit had come to such an abrupt end, Marcellinus could not tell and did not care. All that mattered now was getting his crew as far from Shappa Ta’atan as possible and selling their lives dearly if it came to a fight.
Akecheta led the column, and Marcellinus brought up the rear, with Sintikala by his side. They had put Kimimela and the artisans into the middle of the column for their protection in case any fighting started.
They passed through the L-shaped main gate, watched from above by the warriors of Shappa Ta’atan. Marcellinus’s hand rested on his gladius, as if a sword could have helped him so many yards beneath the walkway. It was a tense moment, but they walked through without incident.
A cool northerly breeze sent ripples across the Mizipi. The skies were blue. Aside from a handful of fishing dugouts and a fur trader who had passed southward a few minutes before, the waters were free of boats.
And there was the Concordia on the bank, waiting for them. No warriors stood between the Cahokians and their ship. Son of the Sun was smiling, every inch the dutiful host.
Now Marcellinus felt the prickle of true fear. This was too easy. This was not right at all.
“Check the boat,” he said tersely to Mahkah. “Have the men check everything, look everywhere. Is the hull sound? Are there traps? Hurry.”
As his crew went aboard, Marcellinus turned back.
A large crowd of Shappa Ta’atani had filed out of the city to watch them leave. Hundreds of ordinary men and women would bear witness that the Cahokians had left their city safely and in peace, the sanctity of Shappan hospitality preserved.
Standing in front of his honor guard and his chiefs, Son of the Sun watched the First Cahokian prepare for departure with a flinty look in his eye and a smile on his lips. Behind him, Taianita was sweating and terrified, on the verge of panic. And when Son of the Sun glanced back at her and grinned, his cruel joy at his word slave’s torment was readily apparent.
Marcellinus nodded. It was clear that Son of the Sun knew Taianita had betrayed him. There was no point in any further pretense.
His anger barely in check, Marcellinus stepped closer to the chief. Son of the Sun’s guards looked wary, but Marcellinus kept his hand away from his gladius. Instead, he reached out and clasped the chief’s forearm.
“I know you planned to give my head to Avenaka yourself,” he said quietly. “My head and my ship.”
Taianita’s mouth dropped open, and Son of the Sun’s arm twitched. Marcellinus held him firmly, digging his fingernails into the war chief’s skin almost deeply enough to draw blood. With his other hand he slapped the chief on the shoulder in a way that looked nothing but comradely, although the knock contained a bite.
Son of the Sun held his gaze.
“So what now? We sail away from Shappa Ta’atan safe and sound? I don’t think so.”
“All is well with the longship,” Kimimela called from behind him in Latin. “Gaius? Nothing is wrong.”
Marcellinus nodded, and to Son of the Sun he said, “Who waits for us downriver? How far?” He looked over the chieftain’s shoulder at his clan chiefs. He saw the clan chiefs of Beaver, Snake, Deer, Crow…“Where is Panther?”
Son of the Sun began to speak. White-faced and quivering, Taianita translated. “ ‘You…you have been my honored guest. I look forward to the…the day when I see you again.’ ”
“Oh, you shall. And I will make a count, and for any man or woman of mine who dies today, that will be one extra day I keep you alive, Son of the Sun, before I send you to your many-fathers. Then I will put your head on a spear, and I will wear your scalp on my belt. I have spoken.”
Son of the Sun laughed derisively. Marcellinus released him and backed away.
“Take me with you,” Taianita said. “Wanageeska? He knows we spoke. Take me or Son of the Sun will tie me to a frame and kill me slowly just as soon as you are gone.”
Son of the Sun seized the girl’s wrist. His other hand held his spiked chert mace of office. At his waist he wore a wide obsidian blade. And behind Son of the Sun stood half a dozen warriors with spears.
Son of the Sun smiled. “You like girl? You take girl. If I take—” He pointed. “—that girl. Or that girl.”
Hurit. Kimimela. The chieftain of the Shappa Ta’atani was offering him Taianita in exchange for one of his own people.
From the bank, Sintikala cast a worried glance back toward Marcellinus. The Cahokians were all at the water’s edge, the greasy Mizipi licking at their ankles. Only the Roman was still back amid the warriors of Shappa Ta’atan.
“Please,” Taianita whispered in desperation.
“My crew is mine,” Marcellinus said. “And this girl wishes to leave Shappa Ta’atan. You say she cannot?”
“Yes, I say she stay unless…” The chief pointed at Kimimela, who flinched even though she was thirty feet away.
“Gaius?” Sintikala called from the dragon ship. “Problem?”
Marcellinus held Son of the Sun’s gaze. “Once you offered me Taianita. Now I will take her.”
The Shappan chief spoke. Taianita translated, blushing. “ ‘I offered her to warm your bed. Not as a slave to take forever.’ ”
Marcellinus put his hand on the hilt of his gladius.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kimimela start back toward him, saw Akecheta grab her and hold her back. None of them could hear the exchange, but Marcellinus was not coming to them and an ugly mood was spreading through the crowd of warriors of Shappa Ta’atan. Hands were going to spears, maces, and clubs, and braves were looking at one another and spreading their feet for a surer balance if they had to leap into the fray. In an instant the Cahokians were scrabbling for weapons, too, snatching them up from the longship.
Roman steel glinted. Arrows were swept onto bowstrings.
Marcellinus gritted his teeth. “I will fight you for her. You and I, Son of the Sun of the Shappa Ta’atani and Gaius Publius Marcellinus of Roma and Cahokia. Fist to fist and foot to foot. Here on this shore. Or if you prefer, we can fight with steel and stone. Either way, I will leave with this girl.”
Son of the Sun had not moved. Now he smiled faintly and raised his arms in hand-talk. You want fight? Then we all fight.
Every man and woman there saw the hand-talk and understood it. On the riverbank Mahkah and Yahto looked at each other, nonplussed. Their commander was squabbling with the chief of Shappa Ta’atan, risking their lives over a girl?
A wave of consternation spread out over the crowd. Quite definitely, the ordinary townspeople did not wish them to fight.
Marcellinus looked again at Taianita’s terrified face and into Son of the Sun’s eyes.
He could not leave her.
There had to be another solution to this.
He became aware of his hand, firmly clutchin
g his sword hilt. He was wearing the gladius that Great Sun Man had returned to him at Woshakee, that Hanska had brought for him from Cahokia. He had owned it most of his fighting life. With it, Marcellinus had killed Germans and Magyars and Sindhs and, more recently, Iroqua.
It was ornate but well balanced. He knew the weight of it. This gladius was almost a part of his arm.
But with this blade he had also killed Cahokians.
With this blade he had killed Fuscus in cold blood.
“We make trade,” he said. “For the girl, this fine sword.”
Marcellinus stepped back and drew the gladius with finger and thumb, his other hand outstretched to pat the air and make his intentions crystal clear to the Shappan braves. He handed the sword to Son of the Sun hilt first.
The chief set his mace down and grasped the sword, looking into Marcellinus’s eyes. He did not release the translator.
Marcellinus saw clearly that the chief would prefer to fight. To provoke a battle, take Marcellinus’s head here and now.
But the crowd was restive, men and women shouting out, urging Son of the Sun to make the trade.
You are liked, Taianita had said.
For once Marcellinus saw the virtues of diplomacy, of smiling at strangers.
Son of the Sun looked around him and looked again at the gladius. Finally he nodded and said, “I take sword,” and in a high-pitched and rather desperate voice, Taianita repeated it for all to hear. “Son of the Sun says he makes the trade!”
Marcellinus released his hold on the sword, stepped back, bowed respectfully to the Shappan crowd. “Come,” he said to Taianita.
Turning his back, he walked toward the Concordia.
No chieftain worth his salt could strike down a guest in cold blood in front of his own people rather than honor a trade. Son of the Sun’s loss of face would be immeasurable. Nonetheless, Marcellinus watched Akecheta and Kimimela. At the merest signs of alarm, her mouth dropping open or his hand beginning to rise in warning, Marcellinus would whirl to defend himself.
