by Alan Smale
“I am taking some of the First Cahokian. Mahkah. Hanska and Mikasi. Kanuna and Enopay. Some guides and interpreters Verus will provide. And four turmae of Sabinus’s cavalry.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Four what?”
“Four groups of thirty-two troopers. A hundred twenty-eight men and their horses.”
Her expression was sour. “And so you will lead Romans again.”
“The turmae come with their own commander. Sextus Bassus.”
“But you will command Bassus, of course.” She looked at him with deep pain. “You are one person to Roma and another person to Cahokia. And you always have been.”
“I have never lied to you, Kimimela.”
“Except when it suited you.” She looked away, but at least she did not run from him.
He began to feel irritated. “I could not always tell you all I knew. But neither could you. You knew of Tahtay’s plan to bring the Army of Ten Thousand to the Roman fortresses last year. Did you tell me? You helped design the equipment that winched the Wakinyan into the air from level ground, along with Tahtay and Sintikala. Did any of you tell me about that? No, of course not.”
“That was different,” she said. “We served Cahokia. You always do what’s best for you.”
His exasperation grew. “Easiest for me would be to serve Roma hook, line, and sinker. Am I doing that?”
She looked at him coolly. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone. Somehow. And…Holy Juno, Kimi…if I die on this trip, I don’t want harsh words like these to be the last we speak to each other. Not after all this. All right?”
Kimimela grimaced.
Marcellinus might never have the chance to say this again. “Kimimela, I love you. The day I became your father was the proudest…” He swallowed and began again. “You and Sintikala are the most important people in my life. I will do everything I can to keep you safe. Everything. I would die for you. And that is the truth.”
Kimimela closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were damp and glittering, her face forlorn. Marcellinus’s heart almost broke in that moment. He reached out to her, but she held up her hand. “But what? Always with the Wanageeska there is a ‘but.’ A something-else.”
The silence expanded between them. Kimimela stared into his eyes.
“Very well. But still I have to try to serve both Roma and Cahokia. Keep as many other people alive as possible—both Roman and Cahokian. And prepare to face the Mongol Khan. And so I must go to the southwest. The Imperator believes that he is coercing me to go, but in fact he is right, Kimi. I am the only man for the job. I should go.”
Kimimela looked away across the plaza. Evening was coming, and the shadows were growing long.
“Kimimela? Please say something.”
“I am bleeding,” she said.
“What?” He scanned her briefly in alarm.
“Not…” She took another breath. “What I mean is, my moon time has started. Several moons ago, in fact. I am not a girl anymore, Gaius. I am a woman.”
Sintikala had not told him. Marcellinus inhaled deeply, blew it out, looked up at the graying sky. He felt awkward beyond measure and had no idea what to say. Congratulations?
“And so, as an adult, I need no father.”
She was telling him it was over once and for all.
His heart was heavy. Perhaps it was just as well he was leaving Cahokia. “I understand.”
“But,” said Kimimela, and now her mouth quirked. “But nonetheless…”
She had said “nonetheless” in Latin. She was mocking him. The fading sunlight played about her face. Marcellinus waited, but she said nothing more. “Kimimela, what?”
“Despite that, when you leave Cahokia and trek all those weeks across the Grass to the deserts in the southwest…you will go as my father, Gaius.”
Now it was she who reached out. Marcellinus grabbed her hands like a man drowning, before she could change her mind. Kimimela smiled at his haste and then tugged him closer. For one of the few times in their lives, father and daughter hugged. “Gods,” Marcellinus said. “Thank you, Kimi. Thank you.”
“And I love you,” she said.
“All right,” he said, startled, and she laughed.
Kimimela released him, and he stepped back.
“I love you, Gaius, Father,” she said again very seriously. “Even though I am very often angry with you, I am angry with you because I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kimimela.”
Suddenly he could not bear the thought of leaving her. “Kimimela…could you not come with me?”
Kimimela hesitated. For a moment he thought maybe she was considering it after all and belatedly wondered what Sintikala would say about it.
“No,” she said eventually. “Really I cannot. I do wish I could. I would like to travel by your side again. But for now my place is here. I must fly with my mother, and I must stand with Tahtay and tell him when to breathe, to stop him losing his temper and getting men killed. So go without me. But…do not forget me.”
“I never will, Kimimela,” Marcellinus said. “Never.”
“We will have our time together one day,” Kimimela said. “Won’t we?”
“Yes, we will.”
For a very long time she stood still, looking out over Cahokia from the top of the low Mound of the Roman. Then she said, “Because that is what I have wanted. And have never really had.”
His vision blurred. He put his hands up to his face.
“Do not swear that we will,” Kimimela said. “For that, you cannot swear.”
Eyes closed, Marcellinus wondered how to answer her, but when he finally opened them again, she had gone, had run down the side of the mound, leaving her Hawk wing resting in the grass beside him.
—
In all the years Marcellinus had spent in Cahokia he had never been atop the Great Mound at night. He had stood there when the sun set, first when his life was in Great Sun Man’s hands and later when Tahtay had taken over as paramount chief, but he had always left before dusk was over and full night had descended.
And this night was especially dark. It was the new moon, and heavy cloud blanketed the city in humidity, shrouding the starlight. The cedar steps up the mound were mostly level and even, but Marcellinus had still managed to trip over his own feet several times on his way to the mound’s crest.
Once there, he stopped and turned. Despite the heat, Cahokia was studded with cooking fires. Their smoke, along with the aroma of roasting meat and corn, reached Marcellinus even at this height. Within and between the houses, often appearing to float back and forth through the streets and across the plazas, were the faint glows of lanterns in the hands of Cahokians going about their duties before turning in for the night.
Marcellinus looked left. Far away to the east were the bluffs, but he could not see them in the haze. Closer was the steady glow of the foundry in the steelworks and a much fainter glimmer of lamplight from the Big Warm House. In the summer months they let the furnaces idle, but the older Cahokians still went to the baths to soak their aching limbs in the hot air and cool water and complain about their grandchildren.
To his right the fires and lamps of western Cahokia extended as far as the river in cheerful disarray, all but disappearing into the murk. But beyond them the fortress of Legio III Parthica shone bright, its walls and streets defined by rows of brilliant military lanterns. By comparison with the scattered flames of Cahokia the castra looked oddly square and sharp, almost sinister.
And behind Marcellinus stood the Longhouse of the Wings, long and dark.
The sweat on his arms and brow had cooled, and his breathing had calmed. Marcellinus turned and approached the longhouse. Its tall door was ajar, and no light came from within. Hesitating only a moment, he walked inside.
Even to his night-adjusted eyes it seemed completely black within. He eased forward slowly, controlling his breathing, probing with each foot before putting
his weight down to ensure that he would not trip over or bump into something he couldn’t see. He felt rather than saw the dozens of Hawk wings swaying in the air above him, suspended from the rafters. He smelled tanned deerskin, leather, flax, new wood.
Ten short paces in, he stopped. Was she even here? “Sisika?”
“Hotah,” said a male voice.
Marcellinus jumped. His hand instinctively slapped at his belt, but of course he had brought no weapon onto the sacred mound. Yet even as he moved, he knew the voice. “Tahtay?”
“Sintikala will come to you presently.” The war chief was maybe twenty feet away to his left. Marcellinus turned to face him in the dark. “Why are you here, Tahtay? Is something wrong?”
Tahtay blew out a huge breath. “What a question to ask me in a Cahokia occupied by Roma, in the heart of a land swarming with armies that care nothing for my people and live only to destroy one another. A Cahokia where listening ears are everywhere, where anyone I have not known all my life—and even some I have—may be a spy, reporting my words to the Imperator. Where the Wanageeska, my friend and the friend of my father, serves me but also his Imperator; today he wears Cahokian clothes, yesterday and tomorrow Roman armor. Even in the sweat lodge I cannot speak freely. Only here in the center of Cahokia, where we are the only men on a great and sacred mound inside a tall palisade, while Wahchintonka, Dustu, and a few other trusted men guard the gates below.”
The war chief sounded sorrowful and older than his years. They were alone here in the dark, and so Marcellinus steeled himself and said the words that sounded traitorous even to his own ears. “I’m sorry, Tahtay. If there had been any way to keep Roma from your city—”
“Perhaps we should have faced them in battle after all?”
“No. Not that.”
Footfalls, as Tahtay paced back and forth. He obviously had better night vision than Marcellinus. Perhaps he had gotten it from the wolves. “On that desperate day when our army stood on the hillside ready for war, Cahokia had a fighting chance. But now your Romans will destroy us from within. Grind us down like the Mizipi grinds the riverbank, leaving nothing behind.”
“Tahtay, the Romans need Cahokia. Its corn, its warriors, and its skills. Its flight and its liquid flame. Its knowledge of the land and the peoples that live here. And you are making them pay for what they receive.”
“So that we will fight beside them against an impossible enemy.”
“But Cahokia does not stand alone. Cahokia now leads a great Hesperian League: the Iroqua, the Powhatani, many of the other Algon-Quian peoples. And the Blackfoot.”
“I am hardly the master of those tribes the way the Imperator rules Roma or the Khan commands the Mongol Horde. Even within Cahokia I have to persuade and cajole.”
“Better to persuade by being right and lead from moral authority than force something wrong upon your people.”
Tahtay laughed bitterly. “Moral authority, you say? Great Sun Man served Cahokia. He did not rule. I, too, serve the people.”
“And that is why Great Sun Man was a great leader, and why you are his worthy successor.”
Marcellinus wished they could have this discussion around a fire in the open air. He took a few cautious steps, swung his arms, hit nothing, and felt a little more free to move. “Tahtay, Cahokia forced the Romans to make their treaty by standing shoulder to shoulder with the other tribes of Nova Hesperia, and Cahokia can survive the coming war in the same way. By standing firm with the other Hesperian tribes you know now and more beside. I must leave soon for the People of the Hand. I go as a Roman, but if we succeed in allying with them, it will be because they, too, want to stand with their Hesperian brothers and sisters. Do you understand me?”
Tahtay had stopped pacing. “Perhaps.”
“And that is why I am taking Kanuna. For he can speak for Cahokia in a way I cannot.”
“I know. He and I have spoken of it in the smoke lodge.”
Marcellinus stared into the darkness. “I will be gone many months, but while I am traveling, you must solidify our other alliances. You must meet with the Tadodaho of the Haudenosaunee. The Iroqua are strong and terrible fighters. They must stand with us, and us with them. You must maintain and build on your close ties with the Blackfoot. And more: reach south to the other mound-builder towns, reach into the Grass to the tribes that live there, the Hidatsa, the Shoshoni, the Pawnee. Perhaps even to the Cherokee if Roma does not already own them.”
He could almost hear Tahtay’s bitter smile. “All that?”
“You are not alone. Use the people you trust. Sintikala has the respect of the Iroqua. Wachiwi was once of the Oneida. Others have strong ties to the Algon-Quian or have brothers and sisters in the Grass. You do not need to go in every direction, all at once, by yourself. Have the chiefs of those other Mizipian tribes brought here or somewhere close by.”
“And why would they agree?”
“Because otherwise they will be picked off one by one by the Mongols or by Roma. You are stronger when you all stand together. You know this.”
“But if the Imperator…Ah.” Tahtay started to pace again. “Of course, Roma will want us to make these alliances, too, so that we can help fight their war with the Khan.”
“And you will have to help Roma fight its war. I do not pretend otherwise. This must be a true alliance with Roma. But once the war with the Mongols is won—”
“Huh. We—”
Marcellinus spoke over him remorselessly. “When the war is over, Hesperia must still be strong. Have I ever spoken to you of Tertius Gaudens?”
They had been speaking in Cahokian, and the sudden words in Latin seemed harsh and violent. Tahtay grunted. “No. Who is that?”
“It is a phrase, not a person. Tertius Gaudens, the Rejoicing Third. It is the military principle of letting two enemies fight each other so that a third can then defeat the weakened victor.”
Tahtay blew out a long breath. “Hesperia can survive to be the Rejoicing Third?”
“Perhaps. But not at the expense of weakening Roma to the point where the Mongols…destroy them. For if the Romans are defeated by the Khan, then Cahokia—Hesperia—will fall, too.”
He could almost hear Tahtay shaking his head. “It is so complicated. Sometimes I feel like I am falling off a tall rock. Tumbling down. But so slowly that it will take me a long time to hit the rocks at the bottom.”
Marcellinus laughed. “You are not a buffalo, Tahtay. And I am not Sooleawa.”
“No. Alas. Sooleawa is a strong and handsome woman.” Tahtay paused. “You are taking Kanuna to the Hand to speak for Cahokia, and that is good. But you must also take Taianita.”
That caught Marcellinus off guard. “Taianita?”
“Take her,” Tahtay said.
Marcellinus could scarcely imagine it. “This is a Roman military expedition, Tahtay. It will be a long hard trip with many dangers.”
“You cannot promise to keep her safe? In a group of your own Romans?” Although he could not see Tahtay, Marcellinus could almost imagine his eyes narrowing.
“It is not that,” he said.
“You will pass through Caddo lands,” Tahtay said. “She speaks Caddo and some words of other languages of the southern rivers and plains and deserts. And enough Latin to talk with the turmae.”
“Calidius Verus will provide translators.”
“Will you be able to trust them? You can trust her.”
As Tahtay trusted her, Marcellinus suddenly realized. Taianita would be Tahtay’s eyes and ears on this expedition. But still…“She is young. And as the only girl surrounded by over a hundred legionaries, she might find things difficult.” Or make them difficult, he thought.
“You are taking Hanska, who is a woman. You are taking Enopay, who is also young. You have no excuse not to take Taianita. Hotah, I do not ask you for many things, but this? Please. It is important to me. I think it is the right thing to do. Will the Hand not have women chiefs as well as men? Is Taianita not persuasive?
There are no Cahokian clan chiefs who can make the trip. She can help Kanuna, and she can help you.”
Marcellinus sighed. “All right, Tahtay.”
“Good.” Now Marcellinus heard Tahtay scuffing at the ground with his moccasin. “And…Gaius? I am very sorry that I mentioned swearing on the life of your daughter. That was very foolish. Very foolish indeed. I was angry, and the wine was in my head, and for that moment I did not think. I needed you to swear on something, and…it came out. I am sometimes impetuous, too.”
“Yes,” Marcellinus said.
“But Roma is so very hard to trust, and sometimes you are Roma. I needed to know for sure.” Tahtay’s voice turned doleful. “I think I am wise, but I am not wise. Perhaps I will never be a good leader. I would not have risked Kimimela’s life for anything. Is that what I have done? Is she in danger?”
“I hope not. Hadrianus promised not to seek her out as long as I led this expedition. And if he does, he will be looking for a girl much younger than Kimimela.” Marcellinus took a deep breath. “But as you say, Roma is hard to trust.”
A long silence fell. Was he still there? “Tahtay?”
“Hotah, I must ask yet another thing. Please do not die on this long trip to the southwest, because if you do…I fear for Cahokia. I fear for all the land.”
The silence lengthened. “I’ll be back, Tahtay. With the People of the Hand as allies, I hope. In the meantime…strengthen the League.”
“I will do my best.”
All of a sudden the air around Marcellinus felt different. The faintest of breezes touched his neck. Above him Hawks creaked and swayed as if the sky itself were roiling over his head.
This time he did not need to ask. Tahtay was gone. Marcellinus knew it. “Juno.”
From above him and to the left there came a sudden double thumping sound so abrupt that it made him leap sideways away from it. Marcellinus banged into wooden shelving, and falcon masks and rolls of cordage bounced off his shoulders and arms. “Merda…”
After the thudding came the clatter of feet running to a standstill. For several long moments he heard nothing more. Then a faint rectangle of sky appeared above him, and a lithe figure dropped through it. He heard the slap of her feet as she landed on the rafters. Hawks trembled again. The rectangle of sky vanished as the trapdoor in the ceiling closed, and the longhouse was just as dark as it had been before.
