by Alan Smale
Lucius Agrippa spoke again at last. “Naturally, we will require such a payment on an annual basis.”
Tahtay’s lip curled. “You speak now of tribute?”
The Imperator smiled. “Do we have an agreement, Tahtay of Cahokia?”
The war chief shook his head. “I know nothing about how to collect gold from rivers or pull it from the earth!”
“You are an ingenious people,” Hadrianus said. “I am confident that you will learn quickly.”
Marcellinus could see Tahtay’s mind spinning. “But if I swear to this, Roma will leave Hesperia for good?”
“Our garrisons will remain at Vinlandia and Chesapica and perhaps also in the far south,” said Agrippa. “Those outposts will be permanent. But Cahokia and all other Mizipian cities and towns will be left in peace.”
“And if I do not swear?”
Agrippa smiled. “Then perhaps the Imperator might be forced to retract his generous offer.”
“Just so,” Hadrianus said. “Just so.”
Tahtay looked dour, and was obviously only controlling himself with difficulty. “And if I have the corn brought to the banks of the Mizipi, you will truly go? Load your food and leave our lands as quickly as you can? You will swear this to me?”
“I cannot swear in blood this time, for I have little to spare,” Hadrianus said. “But yes, Tahtay: the legions will leave, and this will all be over.”
Tahtay studied the Imperator’s face, then looked at Marcellinus, and finally nodded grimly. “Well, then. It appears I have little choice. Let me talk to my council, and see what can be done.”
And with that, the war chief bowed and abruptly withdrew from the Imperial presence.
—
Marcellinus caught up with Tahtay before he had gone a hundred yards. He had been afraid his young friend would run in his attempt to get as far as possible from the Praetorium tent of Hadrianus, but the war chief was walking at a determined pace, threading his way between the Roman tents. “Tahtay, wait.”
Tahtay kept moving. “I am sure that the Imperator has sent you after me to coax and cajole so that I will do what he wants. Is that not the service he demands from you?”
“Hadrianus did not send me.”
“Then what?” The war chief glanced at him, then slowed, blowing out his anger in a long breath. “Kimimela is right. I am an idiot. I wanted to believe well of the Imperator. I believed he would show us as much honor as we have shown him. But I was wrong, and Sintikala and the others were right. After going through all this, we have won nothing.”
By the Imperator’s lights, he was being astonishingly generous. Marcellinus was sure that if it had been left to Agrippa, the Praetor would have driven a much harsher bargain. He drew Tahtay toward the muddy riverbank and away from the tents, so that they would not be overheard. “Tahtay, Roma will leave Cahokia. The Great City will no longer be subject to an army of occupation. The remaining cohorts will be on the coast of the Atlanticus, weeks away from mound-builder territory. Perhaps it is the best we could have hoped for.”
“Chesapica is not so far,” Tahtay said bitterly. “And what of our brothers of the Powhatani? Are they not also Hesperian? Are they not of the League?”
Just a few years earlier, a Cahokian paramount chief would have given scant thought to what happened in the territory of the Algon-Quian. “Yes, you are right. Chesapica is not so far.”
“And I must command the Blackfoot and the Shoshoni and the Hidatsa of the Plains to mine gold for Roma?” Tahtay raised his hands above his head in frustration. “How can I do that? How can I tell all my chiefs this? I cannot. I will not.”
“Better you than a man like Agrippa or Verus,” Marcellinus pointed out.
Tahtay looked at him long and hard. For a moment Marcellinus thought he would turn on his heel and march away again, but the war chief seemed to calm himself and regain his resolve. “Very well, then. And so, now it is time for you to decide. Who are you today? Who will you be?”
The blunt question caught him by surprise. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Are you Roman or Cahokian? My friend or Roma’s? Hotah or Praetor?”
Marcellinus felt brittle. “Always I have tried to be both.”
Tahtay was already shaking his head. “Yes, always you try that, Gaius. Always you try.”
At that, Marcellinus was silent.
Tahtay studied him. “Let me be clear, perhaps for the last time. When I gathered my Army of Ten Thousand against Roma, when we prepared to attack the Third and 27th Legions, there were things we could not tell you, neither I, nor Kimimela, nor Sintikala. And it was the same with you and Roma: you knew of the Mongols for many moons before you told Cahokia.”
“We—”
Tahtay made a sharp gesture to cut him off. “And now we are here, you and I, on the banks of the Wemissori. And once again I have made plans, Hotah. I was not sure I would need them, whether to believe what Sintikala and the others have been telling me all this time, but after what I just heard? Now I am sure. I am very sure.
“But after all you and I have been through, I find that I do not want to keep you in the dark again. We have all deceived one another enough these past two hands of winters. If you and I are friends, if we ever were, then we should have no secrets. And if you and Sintikala are really to be husband and wife, the two of you should never have secrets again either.”
Tahtay put his head on one side, as he had occasionally when he was a boy. “And if we all cannot be honest, perhaps you belong with Roma after all. And so I need to know. Are you the big Praetor, Gaius Publius Marcellinus? Or are you Wanageeska of the Raven clan? Kimi says you can have all of these names, but that is not for her to say. I say you cannot, and I am what you made me: the paramount chief of Cahokia.”
Marcellinus looked into his eyes. “And so it has come to that? I must declare myself, be one or the other?”
“Yes. For there is much I would tell you. Many suspicions and many plans. But I cannot tell the Praetor. I will only tell Hotah.
“So. Today-now, my friend. Here, before me and before the sky, you must choose.”
The next day, as the leading quinqueremes traveled in convoy down the Wemissori, a knarr dropped back to the Clementia to summon Marcellinus to the Providentia. He pulled himself up the rope ladder onto the flagship to find Lucius Agrippa on the poop deck next to the ship’s master, Titus Otho, who was conferring with Mettius Fronto and the captain of the Imperator’s Praetorian Guard.
Marcellinus stepped aside to wait patiently and watch the wooded banks of the Wemissori speed by as 270 cheerful oarsmen renewed their efforts and the helmsman steered the massive quinquereme back into the center of the current. Calidius Verus had been right about one thing, at least: as a brown-water navy, the Sixth Ferrata was superb.
Marcellinus spotted Vibius Caecina amidships but was saved from the obligation of conversing with his tribune when Praetor Agrippa finished his conversation and beckoned Marcellinus over. Fronto and the Praetorian went to starboard to continue their debate out of earshot.
Agrippa eyed him without enthusiasm. “Good Christ, how long is this day? Infernal river.”
Marcellinus nodded. He had spent more than his fair share of tedious days on Hesperian waterways. “As long as five normal days, I’ll wager. You’re looking better.”
“Just as well. Considering that I have to do your work as well as my own all the way down the blasted Mizipi.”
So the Imperator did still plan to discharge Marcellinus from the army at Cahokia after all. “Well, that should keep you out of trouble.”
“Oh, I won’t be pining for your company, I assure you. But there are many among us, particularly in the 27th, who would much prefer to drag you back to Roma in chains to stand trial.”
“Trial?” Immediately, Marcellinus wished he hadn’t risen to the bait.
Agrippa stared past him, down the river. “For your loss of the 33rd, to begin with. After that? Insubordination at every turn. L
oss of control of your Hesperian auxiliaries several times during the battle with the Khan, leading to heavy casualties in my legion, Sabinus’s, and probably your own. An accounting is surely due for all this, but it appears that you will evade it.” He turned his gaze on Marcellinus. “You realize, of course, that if the Imperator had died in battle, I would be in command here. And in that case, your story would be coming to a quick and bloody end.”
“I suppose I might be grateful for that, at least,” Marcellinus said. “Deaths at Hesperian hands can be slow and painful.”
“Then we can only pray that the Hesperians tire of you.” Agrippa shook his head. “In the meantime, Gaius Marcellinus, by all means enjoy your squalid little paradise among the barbarians…and your stinking redskin whore.”
Marcellinus’s hand twitched toward his gladius, but he restrained himself. Instead, and with some difficulty, he smiled. He would hardly rise to Agrippa’s goading, not with a hundred witnesses spread out over the decks before him.
Instead, he looked astern. As he had expected, the Cahokian longship Concordia was approaching from the rear under full sail. “Enough banter, Lucius, my friend. Tahtay is coming to speak with the Imperator about the arrangements once we get to Cahokia. Will you send word to him belowdecks?”
Agrippa snorted. “There is nothing the Imperator needs to tell Tahtay that he has not already said. And we have a policy of not allowing redskins aboard his flagship.”
Marcellinus gritted his teeth. “I am tiring of that word, Lucius Agrippa. And I am in earnest when I say that it is in your interests and everyone else’s that Tahtay be allowed to speak to Hadrianus as soon as possible.”
“The Imperator is not well. And he is hardly at the beck and call of your barbarian protégé.” Agrippa noted the expression on Marcellinus’s face and sighed in exasperation. “Certainly Hadrianus will speak again with Tahtay before we leave Cahokia for the south, but for now his damned Greek is adamant that he not be disturbed. You and I, between us, can certainly oversee the berthing and restocking. The Cahokians will be bringing the corn to the bank as agreed, no? The sooner we are loaded, the sooner we leave.”
“As you wish, Lucius Agrippa.” Marcellinus stood back to stand beside the ship’s master, Titus Otho, who was stalwartly pretending to ignore their conversation, and to him said: “When we get to Cahokia and the Imperator asks, please remember that I did my best to persuade Agrippa to let Tahtay come aboard.”
“Yes, sir,” Otho said, and gave him a curious look.
The Providentia made a slow turn to starboard and entered the Mizipi, with the Clementia and the Concordia not far behind.
—
They saw the Hawks in the air as they rounded the final bend before Cahokia. By this time Marcellinus and Otho were sitting comfortably at the rear of the poop deck with their feet up, swapping war stories, and Agrippa had gone forward to talk again with Mettius Fronto.
They saw the Circle of the Cedars and the Master Mound in the distance, and then the Mounds of the Flowers and the River came into view…and the very next moment Agrippa came running back to them, shouting orders down to the hortator: “Hold, hold!”
As well he might. A forest of palisade stakes lined the riverbank, jutting out at a forty-five-degree angle. Behind them was a more conventional palisade that extended down the bank for a mile or more and then turned inland. Bastions jutted out every two hundred feet, with firing platforms.
Braves lined the palisade. And on the riverine mounds, onagers were clearly visible.
The entire eastern shore of the Mizipi was barred against the Romans. Evidently there would be no sacks of Cahokian corn lying ashore for the taking.
Otho grinned at Marcellinus and said quietly, “Well, you weren’t wrong. That’s quite a sight.”
Agrippa leaped back up onto the poop deck and turned to call across the decks. “Romans, to arms, on the double!”
Now Otho shook his head and stood. “Belay that. With respect, sir, I’ll be giving the orders on this ship.”
Agrippa glared venomously, then turned back to survey the Great City, the armaments, the Hawks in the air. “Treachery, Gaius Marcellinus? And clearly a long time in the making.”
Marcellinus remained seated, stared at him, and said nothing.
“My Praetor assures me we face no immediate threat,” Otho said. “Unless I see otherwise, that’s good enough for me. So we’ll be heading in to dock by the fortress of the Sixth, as planned. And there we’ll off-load.”
Agrippa stepped closer, looming over Marcellinus. “Well, man? Will we face attack?”
Marcellinus glanced at Cahokia’s defenses. “To my eye, Praetor, it appears that we will be quite safe as long as we do not attempt to go ashore to the east.”
Behind them the Clementia had also backwatered and was holding its position. The Concordia came on, pulling up alongside the Providentia.
“It is not Roma’s river, Lucius Agrippa,” Marcellinus said mildly. “It is Cahokia’s river, and they exercise control over it.”
Agrippa gave him a look that was equal parts hatred and triumph. “Do they now? And with your approval, perhaps even at your suggestion? I believe you may have gone too far at last, Wanageeska.”
“You credit me with too much power.” Marcellinus looked again at the heavily guarded shore and could not resist needling Agrippa just a little. “Tertius Gaudens, Praetor. I believe that we face odds we should not attempt to overcome. Even a general as weak in strategy as myself can see that.”
“The Rejoicing Third?” Agrippa smiled grimly. “Any rejoicing by your barbarians might be premature. What do you want?”
“I?” Marcellinus said. “I do not speak for the League. Only Tahtay can do that. I suggest that you invite Tahtay aboard with all haste and inform the Imperator.”
Otho pointed. “Eagle.”
Indeed, a Cahokian three-person craft was making haste toward them from the direction of the Master Mound of Cahokia, trailing a white ribbon. Marcellinus looked up at it. “Ah. The Hawk chief approaches. And if you’re extremely lucky, Lucius Agrippa, I will not tell her what you called her.”
—
The Concordia kissed the side of the Providentia, and Tahtay came up the rope ladder hand over hand, with Enopay and Wahchintonka close behind him. Otho was steering the Providentia toward the fortress of the Sixth on the western bank, but Agrippa was adamant that they should not berth until the Imperator concurred. And then the Praetorians brought Hadrianus to the poop deck on a litter, manhandling it awkwardly up and through the rear hatch, with the Greek medicus wringing his hands in their wake.
The Eagle bearing Sintikala, Chenoa, and Kimimela came in to land on the deck of the flagship, the women running it to a halt and then allowing the marines to lift the wing off their shoulders. By then Agrippa’s disquiet was clear to see. He had thought that Sintikala was several days’ sailing behind them, up the Wemissori.
Apparently not.
“Tahtay,” the Imperator said as soon as the war chief came within earshot. “What is the meaning of this?” He waved generally, his gesture taking in the Cahokians themselves as well as the extensive fortifications along the eastern riverbank.
Tahtay bowed. “Caesar. Welcome to Cahokia. Now you will appreciate why I wished to speak with you sooner.”
Hadrianus snorted. “All this was not built in a day. You planned this deceit all along.”
Sintikala and Chenoa came to stand by Tahtay, one on each side, with Enopay, Kimimela, and Wahchintonka behind them. Tahtay smiled and shook his head. “This, deceit? Indeed, work on the new stockade began as soon as our armies left Cahokia, but only out of prudence. What if the Khan’s armies had bypassed ours and made a direct assault on Cahokia? A wise war chief does not leave his home city unguarded. Our inner palisade would not have been sufficient against a Mongol attack. We needed to guard our banks as well.”
Now Tahtay’s face hardened. “But now that prudence has paid for itself. How clear your
eyes, Caesar, when you accuse me of deceit. I wonder at the medicine for lies that you must have within you that permits such treachery of your own.”
The Imperator held his gaze, his expression bleak. “You are speaking in riddles again, Tahtay. Get to the point.”
Tahtay stared. “As for myself, I am not a suspicious man. I am very trusting. When you tell me something, I accept that it is so. The first Roman I ever met was Gaius Marcellinus, and to him an oath is as sacred as it is to me. And so I wanted to believe that all Romans would be the same, and that you would honor our bond of friendship. But since then I have been talking to others less naive: to Pezi, who has a strong streak of deviousness and suspicion; and to Enopay, whose mind is sharp beyond his years; and to Sintikala and Chenoa, who until yesterday were aboard the Fides and the Minerva far to the north and west. And even then, I did not want to believe them.” He paused. “Caesar, when you and I were negotiating by the Oyo long ago, you with your legions behind you and me with my Army of Ten Thousand at my back, certainly you wanted corn, and guides, and gold. But also you wanted the Cahokian liquid flame—the Greek fire as you call it among yourselves—and above all, above anything else, you wanted the Cahokian power of flight, our Hawks and our Thunderbirds. Did you not?”
Now the war chief began to pace. He continued to talk softly, but the Praetorian Guards who stood around the rails of the Providentia watched him carefully, their hands on their gladius hilts. “So let us consider the long road ahead of you, Caesar. You will sail back to Europa and then march on to Asia. There you will again face Mongol armies, this time led by the sons of Chinggis: Jochi, Chagatai, Ogodei, and the other one.
“But the Mongols are leaving Nova Hesperia with the Firebirds and Feathered Serpents that they acquired here.
“The forces of Roma only defeated the Mongols out in the Grass because of our flying craft, our Wakinyan and Catanwakuwa, our Eagles and Sky Lanterns. Back in Asia you will again face assault from the air, but you will not have our flying machines to conquer the threat.
