Eagle and Empire

by Alan Smale

  “Holy Jove,” Marcellinus said.

  The Praetor of the Third took a deep breath. “Agrippa may rant and rave and call your Cahokian friends barbarians, but you and I know better. We Romans, we are a people with principles, we are an Imperium of honor…but Gaius, your Hesperians are babes in the garden, innocents in the Eden of the Christ-Risen. They have no idea of the horror that faces them across the Grass. This will be a war unlike anything they have ever seen or could imagine. I fear for them. I fear for us all.”

  Marcellinus’s face was hot. “Hesperia may yet surprise you, Decinius Sabinus.”

  Sabinus half smiled. “I hope so. We will need all the surprises we can get.”

  Marcellinus straightened. “Trust them, Quintus. Trust the Hesperians. We are in their land, and they know it better than we. They are smart and inventive, and although they are no Mongols, they surely have a ruthlessness that is all their own. Roma has legionary muscle, but the Hesperians have the understanding without which we will perish.”

  Sabinus studied him. “Understanding? Much good may understanding do us…Gaius, I will support you where I can, but I must be honest: sometimes I have no idea whether you are a sage or a babbling lunatic.”

  “Neither do I, Decinius Sabinus,” Marcellinus said. “Neither do I.”

  Sabinus left him then, hurrying down the steps of the Master Mound to catch up with the Roman contingent, which awaited him by their horses outside the palisade gate.

  Marcellinus stood alone and watched them ride out to the west, his thoughts grim. If Sabinus, the man who commanded arguably the most proficient and deadly of the Imperator’s three experienced and battle-hardened legions—if Sabinus was already half beaten, it did not bode well for the coming war.

  —

  As Marcellinus stepped down into his hut, a shadowy form got to his feet from where he had been sitting at the end of Marcellinus’s bed.

  Startled within the confined space of the hut, Marcellinus could barely resist punching the man. “Merda, Norseman…One day I am going to cut your head off first and recognize your face only afterward.”

  Even if Marcellinus had not seen the Norseman, he certainly would have smelled him. It was clear that Isleifur Bjarnason had not seen a bath, or even a stream, for many days.

  “Probably,” said Isleifur Bjarnason. “But listen, Praetor, for I bring grave news. The Mongols of the Great Khan are here, in Nova Hesperia. The Mongols! And with five horses for every warrior…They have conquered the lands west of the Great Mountains, and even now their scouts swarm the mountaintops like goats looking for an easy pass to bring their armies through—”

  Isleifur stopped abruptly and peered at Marcellinus. “You already knew?”

  Marcellinus had not seen Isleifur Bjarnason for over a year; the Norseman had melted away into the woods long before the confrontation between Cahokia and the Third and 27th on the banks of the Oyo and had not been heard of since. Apparently he had traveled far and wide in the meantime.

  Marcellinus smiled without humor. “For once, Norseman, your intelligence has arrived too late.”

  “Ah, Gaius Marcellinus, run to ground at last.”

  Enopay’s mouth dropped open as the Imperator Hadrianus stepped down into Marcellinus’s hut. On this day Hadrianus wore full uniform and armor, with his helmet tucked under his arm. His Imperial presence filled the room and stole all the air.

  “Caesar.” Belatedly Marcellinus rose to his feet and saluted. “I…did not expect—”

  “Well, of course you didn’t.” Hadrianus surveyed his rude surroundings with some disdain: the low bed, and the bench and table where Marcellinus to this day schooled young Cahokians in reading and writing. His eyes lingered on the golden lares sitting on Marcellinus’s small shrine to his household gods. He inspected the hearth, peered up through the crude chimney hole at the skies beyond. “And these are the barbarian accommodations that you favor over the barracks of the Third Parthica?”

  “Yes, Caesar.”

  “Well, well. And have you given much thought to your future, I wonder?”

  “My future, Caesar?”

  Hadrianus looked at Enopay, who stammered, “I…I should leave, Caesar?”

  “Stay, stay.” The Imperator gestured at the pot of goldenrod tea sitting over the embers of the fire. “If I may?”

  “Of course, Caesar…Enopay, find the Imperator a cup.”

  The master of the world now investigated the bench with care, perhaps looking for splinters, and then sat. “So, your future, Gaius Marcellinus?”

  “I sometimes believe I have an excess of good fortune in merely surviving to see each new dawn,” Marcellinus said cautiously.

  “Indeed you do. Until now, you have been useful enough to be kept alive. What use do you plan to be to me going forward?”

  Marcellinus shook his head, baffled. “I will help complete the Line of Hadrianus. I will work with Tahtay and the Cahokian auxiliaries to prepare them for the coming war. And I will do my best to prevent Agrippa from upending our treaty with Cahokia into a bloody disaster.”

  “Such small ambitions.” The Imperator looked at Enopay, who was still fumbling to find a clean beaker. “What do you think, boy? What sensible use can I make of this renegade?”

  Enopay’s eyes were wide, and his face flushed. “Already the Wanageeska has brought you great allies. He has prevented war between your people and ours, made sure your legions are fed. The First Cahokian—”

  Hadrianus shrugged negligently. “I suppose he has brought me one nation. But I have it in mind that he should bring me another.”

  “Holy Jove,” Marcellinus said. “Caesar, no, I beg of you. I must stay here.”

  Hadrianus smiled thinly. “You have not even heard my proposal.”

  “He does not need to.” At last Enopay handed a beaker of tea to the Imperator. “We were both there yesterday, when you were looking at the map of Hesperia. You plan to send Gaius Marcellinus to the southwest in an attempt to ally with the People of the Hand.”

  Hadrianus took a sip. “Who better?”

  Marcellinus opened his mouth and closed it again.

  “I do hope you were not about to suggest Calidius Verus, even in jest. Since it seems he has antagonized the Yokot’an Maya, it would be naive to expect him to do any better with the People of the Hand. And it seems we know little of the Hand and what we might expect from them. The task requires a commander of some subtlety, along with an abundance of local knowledge. You would disagree?”

  “No,” Marcellinus said. “But I do not know all your tribunes, nor do I know which could be spared from their other duties—”

  “None of them,” the Imperator said.

  Marcellinus snapped his fingers as an inspiration struck. “Centurion Manius Ifer of the Sixth Ferrata. He has been in country for years and seems to have gained extensive experience at leading mixed Roman and Hesperian expeditionary units—”

  Hadrianus was already shaking his head. “You studied the map as carefully as I, Gaius Marcellinus. We are as close to the People of the Hand here as they are at the Market of the Mud. There is even a redskin trail that goes there, across the Plains and along a river. Long, undoubtedly tedious, but straightforward enough. Easy country and fresh water until you get to the Great Mountains, and then you follow them down.”

  “But that must be a thousand miles,” Marcellinus objected.

  Enopay was considering it. “Over a thousand either way. But to send an expedition of the Sixth, we would first need to send word two months down the Mizipi to their fortress on the gulf coast beyond the Market of the Mud. Then Verus’s men would have to travel around the bay and up, through the full heat of the desert…” He trailed off at Marcellinus’s expression. “I will stop speaking now.”

  “Thank you, Enopay.”

  The Imperator looked amused. “And if that were not enough, Verus has his hands full. His fleet patrols the whole of the Hesperian Nile, from the rapids two hundred miles north of
here clear down to the Mare Solis. Not to mention his role in helping extend our signal stations along the Wemissori and the three other major tributaries out of the west that drain into the Mizipi. He is, in fact, at our harbor on the Oyo right now, putting the finishing touches to those logistics. So, Marcellinus, a joint force of Romans and Hesperians: that is your recommendation?”

  “Yes, of course.” Marcellinus took a deep breath. “But Caesar, I cannot go.”

  “You defy your Imperator?”

  “I am needed here. Am I not?”

  “You flatter yourself, Gaius Marcellinus. I do believe that by pooling our considerable talents and calling upon Tahtay’s, Praetor Sabinus and I may be able to handle Cahokia in your absence.”

  “With Agrippa always a hairbreadth from unleashing his legionaries upon Cahokia?”

  “You think me incapable of reining in Lucius Agrippa?”

  Marcellinus backtracked quickly. “By no means, Caesar. I merely mean that you cannot be everywhere. Often you are out in the Grass—”

  “What if the Mongols arrive here while we are away?” Enopay said.

  Marcellinus turned on him. “We?”

  “It seems unlikely. Our scouts would have warned us. But yes, you’d better not dally.” Hadrianus walked to the door and looked down at the step as if irritated that he had to clamber up it to escape the house.

  “Caesar, I implore you—”

  Unexpectedly, Hadrianus cut him off with a Hesperian hand-talk gesture: Be silent. He turned. “Oh, and one other thing. That odd moment when Tahtay made you swear upon your daughter’s life. He spoke, naturally, of Vestilia?”

  Lying to the Imperator could be a death sentence. Marcellinus had never told a bald-faced lie to an Imperator of Roma in his life, and today would be a poor day to start. “No, Caesar.”

  A half smile played on Hadrianus’s lips. “You sly old fox. You have a Cahokian daughter?”

  “I do, Caesar. Although I would prefer that you not ask me where she might be found.”

  The Imperator made a great show of considering it. “Perhaps such a thing might be agreed to. But we need not discuss it further, Gaius Marcellinus, and it need not become common knowledge in the legions as long as you grant me the service for which I have asked. Which is not such a bad thing as all that. After all, I propose to give you responsibility, an opportunity to command honest Romans again after all these years relegated to keeping Hesperians in order. And I know how you hanker to travel. This task should be right up your alley. Which Cahokians would do for the task, d’you suppose?”

  After a dazed moment, Marcellinus’s mind began working again. He looked apologetically at Enopay. “Kanuna, if he could be persuaded to make such a long trip. He is the most flexible and…statesmanlike of the older Cahokians. Mahkah, and some of the other young warriors who are already accustomed to working with Romans and have traveled far in the past. Of course, we will also need translators who speak the languages of the Caddo and the Hand.”

  The Imperator pushed the doorskin aside. Beyond it Marcellinus saw four Praetorian guards standing watch, looking hot and uncomfortable. Their armor gleamed in the sun. “I concur with your plan. Select your Cahokians. I will have a warship sent from our Oyo harbor to ferry you along the Wemissori; it should arrive in a week or so. You will travel with four turmae of the Ala II Hispanorum Aravacorum under the command of the senior decurion Sextus Bassus. Bassus is a fine horseman and runs a tight expedition.”

  “Yes, Caesar.”

  Hadrianus gave him a long, appraising stare. “Gaius Marcellinus, despite your fond opinion of yourself you have very few uses to me, and men with so many flaws do not customarily survive long in my favor. You wish to ensure your future with Roma? Go and earn it. You pride yourself on forging alliances? Go and forge another.”

  “Yes, Caesar.”

  The Imperator stepped out of the house. The doorskin fell back into place behind him.

  “Shit.” Marcellinus sat down on his bench with a thud. All of a sudden he vividly recalled the scorching sun, the blistering heat of Arabia. And now he had to travel deep into another desert on what was probably a fool’s errand and ridiculously dangerous besides. Once again he had to make a huge journey at what might be exactly the wrong time.

  And if that were not bad enough, Hadrianus knew he had a Cahokian daughter. “Futete. Damn it.” Stricken, he looked at Enopay.

  The boy leaned in so close that even an eavesdropper just outside the hut would not be able to hear. “Do not fear, Eyanosa. Most Cahokians do not even know you consider Kimi your daughter. And those who do? No Cahokian would give her away.” Enopay stepped up to the door and peered out. Quietly, over his shoulder, he said: “And if Hadrianus does look, it will be for a girl much younger than fifteen winters. As long as you do what he asks, I do not believe he will bother. And all that about you having no other uses? He is just…Gaius?”

  Enopay had turned to find Marcellinus with one hand on his golden lares and the other on a piece of old curled-up birch bark that lay on the shrine beside them. A piece of bark on which was written, in a rounded scrawl of charcoal, Kimi thank Gaius.

  It was time to hide that piece of bark. Very carefully. For the time being, Marcellinus tucked it into the straw in his mattress. “Perhaps you are right.”

  Enopay nodded. “Of course I am right. Come. Let us go and talk to my grandfather.”

  Marcellinus followed him to the door. “Very well. But one thing I am absolutely sure of, Enopay, is that you will not be joining us on this crazy trip.”

  —

  Mahkah and Hanska jumped at the chance to accompany him on the expedition into the southwest, and much to his surprise, so did the elderly Kanuna. Although they all stoutly claimed loyalty to Marcellinus as their primary reason, he was aware that the long shadows cast by the Roman fortresses over the city of Cahokia provided an even more powerful motivation. In addition, Kanuna had spent years of his youth traveling, and this probably would be his last chance to see somewhere new. Besides, for one who felt the cold as acutely as the elder did, traveling south for the winter must have had its appeal.

  Marcellinus suspected that if he had issued a call for volunteers, a large fraction of the First Cahokian would have signed up, but there were good reasons to limit the number of Hesperians on the expedition. The Roman cavalry had trained together for years and were well accustomed to spending long days in the saddle. The Cahokians were learning fast, but few showed the natural riding aptitude of Mahkah and Hanska.

  It would be bad enough just having to deal with Kanuna and Enopay, both of whom were horse-averse by inclination but suddenly well motivated to become expert riders. For to everyone’s astonishment, not only did Kanuna and Hanska support Enopay’s desire to come along on the journey, so did the expedition lead, Sextus Bassus, whom Enopay had somehow managed to impress with his bookkeeping skills. Kanuna claimed he had taken his first trip to faraway Etowah when he was little older than his grandson, and Hanska was always sympathetic to outsiders. And so Marcellinus gave it up, and Enopay got his place on the expedition after all.

  —

  She came to him out of the skies from the east, circling to gain height from the heat of the steelworks, looping up over the Great Mound and passing close by a Sky Lantern before swooping gracefully around him in a wide circle. From the top of the Mound of the Roman, Marcellinus watched and marveled at her skill in the air.

  She glided down behind him, passing so closely over his hut that she almost grazed it with her knees, then kicked her legs free and pushed up the nose of her Catanwakuwa. Spilling air and alighting onto her feet, she needed only a few steps to bring herself and her craft to a complete halt.

  “Very nice,” Marcellinus said. “You’re learning in…leaps and bounds.” Meant as a compliment, it came out sounding patronizing. “You got my message, then?”

  “Would I be here if I had not?” Kimimela said. He stepped forward to help her with the straps, but she had alrea
dy lifted the Hawk from her shoulders, and all Marcellinus could find to do was steady it as she lowered it to the ground.

  “Kimi, you once told me that I must tell you in person if I planned to leave Cahokia. Well, I am leaving now. Within the week.”

  That halted her. She looked up at him, the hurt in her eyes warring with her habitual disdain. “So soon? For how long?”

  “Hadrianus is sending me to seek an alliance with the People of the Hand.”

  “Of the Hand? Shit…”

  He tried a smile. “Bad word, Kimi.”

  She snorted. “Really? Anyone would think you were my father.”

  That silenced him. Kimimela dropped her gaze. “You will be gone many months. What will happen here while you are away?”

  “Nothing bad, I hope.”

  “Agrippa may use your absence as an opportunity to break the treaty. Even more than he has already. I expect he can’t wait to get you out of the way. This was his idea?”

  “No. Agrippa is being kept busy completing the line of signal stations out in the Grass.” Marcellinus steeled himself. “Kimimela, it is not a good idea for me to keep secrets from Roma, but they still do not know that you…were once my daughter. I would like to keep them unaware of it.”

  “So you are telling me that I cannot come with you.”

  It had not occurred to him that she might consider it. “You would want to? It might be…” Dangerous? He almost laughed. Was anywhere safe anymore?

  “Oh, I cannot go.” Kimimela pursed her lips. “My place now is with the Hawks and with my mother. And she cannot leave Cahokia either. But it would be nice if you had thought to ask me.”