Chapter Three
Morning dawned upon Two-Crows and Tacitus began it the same way he had begun every day for the past few weeks, by feeding and watering Bellona behind his house. He talked at length to the horse as he did, all about the mysteries of life, art and medicine and he soon discovered that their morning one-way chats were becoming quite an enjoyable habit for him. Tacitus had rarely been able to speak so freely without opposition - though, at times, he could swear it seemed as if the horse were answering him.
"Well, girl," he brushed her coat as the sun rose up over the treetops of the Aulus Forest, "I'm thinking it's almost time for us to head out into the desert. I've heard of a new species of Betony that might be growing there. I think it'll be good for Cinna's headaches. What do you think, girl?"
The horse glanced back at him and gave him a low nicker.
He laughed, "Yes, alright, maybe we're not ready just yet, but someday soon." Tacitus studied the fibers of Bellona's coat as he swept across it, making sure that they all lay in the same direction as the brush glided over her haunches. He had become so focused on this task that he never saw the determined figure of Nona furiously stalking towards him until it was too late. As she reached his side undetected, she pulled her arm back and launched a slap across his face.
He stared at her, his mouth open in shock as he gently touched the reddening cheek in disbelief, "...Nona?"
"How dare you?" she shouted at him angrily.
"Wait, what-"
"How dare you?" she repeated, her own face betraying a deep hurt that had just moments earlier rendered her maternal soul into pieces. "What gave you the right?"
"What are you talking about?"
Nona reached back to strike him again but he caught her wrist. She wrenched her arm free and shouted at him, "You gave him my daughter, you bastard!"
Tacitus' eyes closed as his body sagged with realization, "By the gods above, you mean Aelia."
"Yes!" Her anger was quickly giving way to tears, "How dare you, Tacitus? She isn't yours to give, she's mine!" She pointed at her own breast, "I knew I would lose my son. Every mother knows that when they lay him in your arms but... my daughter?" The tears spilled unashamedly over her cheeks, forming salty rivulets that ran down her chin.
Tacitus reached out to the woman whom he had quietly loved more than life itself for the past six years and folded her to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Nona," he spoke soothingly to her as she wept against him. "But Aelia needs to be in the Order. She belongs there."
"No!" She pulled back slightly and looked up at him but he found her eyes no longer angry. Instead, they now pleaded with him, "She belongs with me! If she joins the Order, her life will be over! She... she'll be an outcast! She-she won't even be able to marry!"
Despite her protestations, Tacitus couldn't help but smile at her words as he spoke to her gently, "Nona, think about what you are saying. It doesn't even sound like you! Can you imagine Aelia being married off the way you were? Would you even want her to be?"
The red-haired woman stayed quiet for a few moments, lowering her green eyes to the floor until finally uttering a whispered, "...no."
He lifted her chin and wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, "No, of course not. What is it that you used to tell me? 'Marriage is no place for a woman!'" A small smile returned to her face and he chuckled at the sight of it, "Ah, Nona, I still remember the day your father brought you into the village, kicking and screaming and as beautiful and terrible as a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon."
Nona's smile grew brighter, "Yes, that horrible, wonderful day... the day that I met you."
Her eyes misted over as the memory returned. She had arrived in the village in a truly horrible state after being half-dragged behind her father's horse during the entire five-mile trek from their home of Big Oaks to Two-Crows, her hands tied together by a rope that he had held from his place upon the saddle. To her credit, though, Nona had spent the entire trip shouting curses at him.
As they entered the village, her father called for the Elders and a crowd began to form. They looked upon the bedraggled woman with curiosity, her red hair spilling wildly around her face with a mixture of twigs and leaves lost within it and her simple dress torn at the shoulders and along the bottom hem.
Seneca, his back bent over with his ever-increasing age and having to use a sturdy stick to walk with, emerged from the crowd. He called up to Nona's father, "What is this thing that you do here?" his ancient voice was hard to hear in the surrounding wood.
"I am Scaeva of Big Oaks and this is my daughter, Nona, who was pledged to be married to your Pavo, the tanner."
Seneca bowed his white head, "Yes, I am sorry for the loss of your once future son-in-law. He fought bravely against the boar and his death was honorable-"
"Nevertheless, his death has still stuck me with this one," he tugged at the rope to indicate Nona, who stared at Seneca with eyes full of fire as she stumbled from her father's actions. "She is in her third decade and I can no longer support her under my roof."
"But, Pavo paid his dowry for her. I know, because I blessed it myself."
"Aye, he did, so that means she is yours now. You feed her and you deal with her." He threw the rope at Seneca's feet, "But I advise you to keep her tied up until you find someone strong enough to handle her; she bites and kicks." Scaeva gave his daughter one last glare then turned his horse around and started back out of the village.
"You good for nothing bastard of a father!" she screamed out after him. "May the gods curse the day you were born and give you a slow, painful death because Heaven knows I will if given the chance!" Nona then let out a frustrated cry as she stomped the ground.
Seneca stared awkwardly at the new member of his village, unsure of what to do next.
Nona growled at him, "What are you looking at, old man? Untie me now and let me after that bastard!"
"Hmm...no, my dear," the old man replied calmly. "I fear he is correct in that although you did not marry Pavo, the tanner did pay for you." Nona seethed harder but Seneca continued speaking anyway, "You now belong to the village of Two-Crows."
"Fine, if that is so then untie me and I will go peacefully to my new home."
"But, I have no place for you to go. Pavo's former possessions now belong to his family and you are still an unmarried woman."
Nona rolled her eyes, "I don't see how that-"
"We have rules in this society for a reason, young lady. You are an unmarried woman and thus unwelcome to stay overnight in anyone's house except your parent's."
"Yes, well, we've all seen how well that's worked out."
Seneca grunted as he reached down and unsteadily picked up the rope that still lay beside his feet and gave it an ineffectual tug. "Come. You stay by this tree."
Nona's face contorted in disbelief as she looked at the Elder, then at the faces of the muted crowd that now surrounded her, "Are you serious?"
Seneca spoke to the villagers, "This woman will stay here until someone steps forward to claim her in marriage. If you wish to marry her, seek my counsel. I will be in my home till then." He gave her one last look, a nod, and then hobbled off into the direction of his house. Soon after his departure, the rest of the crowd, sensing no further excitement was forthcoming, began to disperse as well.
Nona, still in a state of disbelief, shouted at them, "What is wrong with all of you? You would rather let me die in the elements than let me into your homes? I hope the gods curse you all!"
Tacitus, meanwhile, had watched the entire event from his usual position just on the outskirts of the crowd. When he was sure they had all gone from the area, he cautiously approached the woman, who now sat, defeated, before the trunk of a large tree.
When she heard him approach, she sat up and hissed at him, "Get back! I'll gut you if you come near me!"
Tacitus froze, "I'm sorry, I-I just want to untie you. You look very uncomfortable." He knelt down before her, "I am Tacitus, the medicus of the village."
She eyed him suspiciously, "I'm Nona, of the village of Bi-" she sighed mid-sentence and looked away from him, "well, I suppose I'm just Nona, now."
"I'm sorry for what has happened," he gently took her hands and pulled them closer to him. He then pulled a small knife from his boot and cut away the ropes. As they fell away, he saw that her wrists were red and raw and his face filled with a slight worry, "You must put something on that soon or it will fester."
"It-it will be fine. I will be fine," she pulled her hands away from him. "Thank you for your concern."
"Are you hungry?"
Nona hadn't eaten anything since long before her journey had begun that morning. "No," she lied, "but again, thank you."
"I will bring you something later." He reached out and held her chin as he examined her face, "You seem healthy. So, how is it that you have reached three decades without being claimed by someone?"
She laughed, "Because I am smart. Or maybe the men are, I don't know." Nona tucked a piece of leaf-strewn hair behind an ear, "I only relented to marry Pavo because my father had threated to throw me out to the forest goblins. I know he's a bastard on his best day but I never thought he'd go this far!" She shook her head as her expression saddened, "You cannot know what it feels like to be rejected by your entire village, by your family..."
Tacitus felt a burning along the scar on his chest, "No... I guess I cannot. I hope someone comes forward quickly on your behalf."
"Me, too. I don't really want to sleep outside, in the darkness." She looked at Tacitus, her eyes touched by fear, "What if no one comes forward? What will happen to me then?"
"I... don't know. I have been a Cavalli for all of my four and half decades and yet sometimes even I still don't understand our ways."
"You look much younger. What is that scar on your cheek from?"
Tacitus hand went up automatically to the right side of his face, where he had inked a large swirl in the hopes that it would cover the old scar given by Otho. "Uh..."
"I'm sorry, Tacitus," Nona smiled, slightly embarrassed. "I tend to be very forward at times and forget myself."
He smiled softly in return, "I admire that quality, actually. I'm quite the opposite. I tend not to say much."
She laughed, and it was a pleasant sound that fell easily upon his ears, "Ah, now that I envy! Perhaps if I had been more like you I would be married by now!"
Tacitus bowed his head and blushed slightly, "Well, I'm glad you are not." He looked back up at her in surprise, "I mean, I-"
They both fell into a fit of shared laughter despite themselves and their current situation.
Tacitus then shook his head, "I can't leave you here like this. You will come home with me." He looked at her, "Well, I-I mean, if that's what you want."
"Yes, but," she leaned in closer to him and whispered, a mischievous smirk upon her lips, "won't they talk?"
His expression hardened slightly, "That is not something I've ever been concerned with. I learned a long time ago that you cannot change what people think of you once they've decided what you are."
"You know, I think I like you, Tacitus. I think we're going to be great allies," she winked at him.
He blushed again, becoming flustered, "Well, I, uhm, thank you, Nona. Shall-shall we return to my home?" He held out his arm and, smiling, she took it.
They stood and both walked, heads held high, across the village to Tacitus' home. No one said a word as they passed, but the whispers behind their backs were easily carried to their ears by the wind. Nona tried to suppress her smile as they continued to walk but, unable to, she started to giggle devilishly, "I have been a scandal all my life: the red-haired demon baby delivered by witches."
He looked at her wryly, "They really said that about you?"
"Yes," she answered matter-of-factly, "everyone in my village, all the days of my life."
They came to a stop outside of Tacitus' home. Nona was fascinated by the artwork along its edges and reached up to trace some of the symbols carved in the wood, "I actually recognize a few of these."
He was pleasantly surprised, "You do?"
She nodded, "I was taught to read by the village Grandmother. She was one of the few people that ever showed me kindness there. I enjoy reading but we don't, uh, didn't, have a lot of books, though."
"Well," the corner of his mouth began to lift as they entered the abode, "I might can accommodate you in that regard."
After she was given a chance to freshen up as best she could, they sat at the small table before the hearth and talked long into the night over a dinner of venison stew, bread and Two-Crows ale.
Nona yawned as the frogs began to sing their nighttime songs outside, leaning her head upon her hand as she looked over at Tacitus who was in the middle of a diatribe about the healing properties of Willow Bark. She interrupted him, "Why don't I just marry you?"
Tacitus, taken aback, stopped speaking, his jaw hanging open.
"I mean, we're compatible and we clearly enjoy each other's company," she continued. "So, why not?"
"I... because... you can't."
"Why?" she asked, annoyed by his answer.
"Well, I'm... I'm a widower. My-my wife died a few years ago-"
"And the Ways state that even in death you are still married," she sighed, defeated again. "Well, then I suppose there is nothing left for me to do but to walk into the desert and die or meet my fate with the forest goblins."
"No, Nona, there-"
"It's no use, Tacitus. There is nothing for me now-"
"No!" He growled. "You don't strike me as the type to just lie down and-and...wait! I have an idea!"
She sat up in her seat, "You do?"
"My brother!" He looked at her as a triumphant smile crossed his face. "Yes! It's perfect! He is the Protector of the Village but has never married!"
"Why?" she made a face.
Tacitus shrugged, "I-I suppose he's never had the time to find a wife. It's never really been that important for him, I guess."
"But, is he... pleasant... like you? I've enjoyed our conversations very much this evening. No man has ever spoken to me as you have."
He turned away from her and stared into the fire burning away in the hearth, "Severus and I are nothing alike... but," he glanced back at her, "he is a good man, an honorable man. You will be safe and protected and-and you won't be homeless! You'll be well fed and he has a lot of respe-"
"Tacitus," she placed her fingers against his lips, "it's alright. I believe you."
He smiled, slightly embarrassed, "I-I will go speak to him now. He is probably on night watch anyway."
"Thank you, Tacitus," another yawn escaped her lips. "Meanwhile, I think I will just sleep here for the night."
He nodded and then retrieved a large fur for her, moving the table to the side and placing the fur on the ground before the fire. "This will keep you warm and I will return in the morning."
"Thank you again, Tacitus. I will make it up to you one day, I swear." Still clothed in her torn dress, with twigs and dirt in her hair, she lay down upon the thick pelt and closed her eyes. Tacitus cast a last look upon her as she curled up before the fire. She was beautiful and every time she had spoken to him that night, it had made his heart soar like no other.
But he was being a fool, he told himself as he walked across the village in the dark to his brother's house. No one could love another in the space of a few hours. No, what he felt was intrigue at the newness of her being there, nothing more. He then pushed aside his burgeoning feelings as he looked for his brother.
The next morning, Severus, Tacitus and Nona had gathered around the tree in the center of the village. Nona knelt beside Severus as he called Seneca out. The crowd soon gathered a second time and Seneca asked, "Do you, Protector, claim this woman?"
Severus looked down at her, his face as stern as always and held out a hand. Nona took it and rose. "Yes, I claim her as my own, Elder. We will be married by sundown and her household shall join my household."
"Then it is official!" Seneca held up his arms as best he could and announced to the village, "Let it be known that Severus of Two-Crows, the Protector of the Village, has now claimed Nona, formally of the village of Big Oak, for his own. Welcome to our village, my child." He lowered his hands as the crowd applauded and hurrahed.
Nona seethed at their hypocrisy and Tacitus looked upon the pair with both joy and sadness etched across his face, while Severus' face remained a blank slate.
"No," Nona spoke as the memory faded, "I do not want that for Aelia." Her eyes, still slightly wet with tears, looked upon him, a profound mixture of emotions smoldering behind their green surfaces. "But she is the only thing that I am allowed to love in this world, freely and without consequence. He will take her from my side... just as you were taken." She grabbed him tightly in a desperate embrace as Tacitus bowed and kissed the top of her head. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke to her softly, "I'm... I'm sorry, Nona. For everything. I will always be sorry for the things that are beyond my control."
She looked at him and smiled, "And I forgive you, Tacitus. I will always forgive you." Nona reached up and gently placed her lips onto his.
No! His mind shouted as she did, but he did not pull away. Instead, he pressed into her firmly and lost himself in the stolen moment, reveling in the feel of her touch, the warmth of her lips against his. By all rights, his mind continued to shout, she should've been his!
But she wasn't... and could never be.
No, the word replayed in his head and he pulled away from her. "I cannot do this, Nona. I - it shouldn't've gone this far. I apologize, please forgive-"
"Tacitus! Nona!" They both looked up in alarm to see Severus standing before them.
Tacitus paled as Nona composed herself quickly. She smiled sweetly and without so much as a gasp, began to speak, "Well, hello, my husband. I'm afraid that in a fit of anger, I may have branded your brother for life."
"Nona," he sighed, "you didn't-"
She put an even broader faux smile across her face, "I'm sorry, men, but I have womanly things at home that need tending. Goodbye, my husband. And, goodbye...Tacitus," she spoke to him over her shoulder, "I am... sorry for my behavior earlier." Her smile was painful as she walked away.
Tacitus stood, slack-jawed, partly in awe at Nona's quick and convincing recovery and partly in fear of his brother. Severus stepped towards him and taking his brother's chin in his black-gloved hand, he turned his face to the side, "Wow, she branded you well, Brother." He stood back, slightly ashamed, "I'm sorry, Tacitus. I must apologize for my wife's temper. I told her it wasn't your fault regarding my decision to take Aelia into the Order, but," he shrugged, "you know her as well as I do. That woman has a mind of her own. A dangerous mind."
Tacitus nodded awkwardly, "Yes. I-I do know that-"
"No matter!" His brother waved off the previous moment's events. "I came here for my own reasons anyway. Well," he stepped back, "what do you think?"
As Severus stood before him, hands outstretched, Tacitus finally noticed that his brother was wearing an entire suit made of black leather. Severus turned around slowly, the black cloak he wore waving slightly in the breeze as he did.
"Is that the new uniform of the Order?"
"It is."
"But, there are no markings? Nothing to say what you are or who you belong to."
He shook his head, "And I don't want there to be. We belong to no one but are in the service of all who fight on the side of the righteous and good."
Tacitus nodded, "Well-well, then I think it's very impressive, Severus. Very intimidating as well!"
The Protector laughed loudly and patted Tacitus on the shoulder, "Very good! As it should be!" He tugged at the high collar, "It is a little on the warm side, though."
"Well, then it will be good for the winter, which is due soon by the looks of things."
"Aye, I’ve noticed the change in the wind over these last few days."
Tacitus indicated the area in the distance beyond his brother, "I see that the border wall is finally up. How are the barracks coming along?"
"I hope to have the first one up by this time next year and then my scouts will send for recruits throughout the land and we will begin training."
Tacitus smiled, "It's all coming together finally, isn't it? Just as you and Father dreamed all those years ago when we were young."
Severus nodded solemnly, "It is, and I will never leave this village nor any of her people unprotected again. That is my vow and, like all vows that I have taken in this life, I stand by it, forever."
* * *
"One!"
Juko forcefully pulled his wooden sword upwards in response to Felix's count and struck it hard against the lower right side of the palus training post before him.
"Two!"
He repeated the same exact movement but this time hitting the thick piece of timber on the other side.
"Three!"
Juko gritted his teeth. His annoyance had been growing all morning and he was having trouble masking it as he lifted the wooden gladius above his head and brought it crashing down onto the upper right side of the palus.
"Four!"
He then struck the left side.
"One!" Felix began again but, this time, Juko made no movement. "One!" he repeated but again, Juko remained still. The trainer stalked closer to the N'bari, "Recruit, I gave you the count of one!"
Still silent, Juko impudently threw the gladius down into the dust beneath him.
"Recruit, what are you-"
"No!" He shouted through gritted teeth as he glared at the heavier built man, "I have had enough of this... training. All that I have learned so far is how to count to four!"
Euric sat up slightly in his seat upon the dais as he watched the scene unfold before him. His assistant, Posides the Spado, stood beside him holding a decorative sun umbrella over his head, "Sir, do you wish me to-"
"No, no," he motioned the exceedingly handsome young man away with a hand. "I will handle this on my own but first," a light smirk emerged, "I wish to see how it plays out."
"But," Posides beautiful face was awash in confusion, "don't you wish for him to fight at the Emperor's munus in one week's time?"
The lanista snickered coyly behind closed lips, "Oh, I very much do but you have to understand, Juko is a different sort of creature."
"How so? He seems incredibly defiant."
"He is defiant, yes, but it is more than just that." He stared out at the new recruit and watched as he began to argue further with the trainer. "You see, I have to make him want to fight and the only way to do that is to tweak him until he explodes. Rote drills, boredom, a constant authoritarian presence looking over his shoulder - all of it a carefully choreographed act to make him want to become the star of the arena. Just you watch, my boy, just you watch."
Felix, dressed only in the loincloth that marked him as a trainer, grabbed Juko by his practice tunic and shoved him roughly into the dirt. "Pick up your weapons, worm, and begin again."
Juko stood back up on his feet immediately. "I am done with this sham. This is not real fighting, this is-"
Felix grabbed the pugio from his side and was about to strike Juko with it when Euric shouted for him to, "Halt!" The Vandal, his gray robes whipping in the wind, stepped down from the dais and walked over to the pair.
"Juko, why do you refuse your training? Did we not reach a deal?"
"That," the N'bari looked down at the wooden sword at his feet, "is no type of training. You wish me to compete in a week's time and yet only provide me with wooden sticks? I am no novicus-"
"But you are no Tiro, either. Only those gladiators who have made certain progressions can be called Tiro and you have done no such thing."
"Then tell me what the progressions are so that I might learn! What is it that I am lacking? Tell me and I will do that very thing!"
Euric looked upon the young N'bari and answered flatly, "You have yet to learn the damnati ad gladium."
"What is that?" He spat out angrily. "What does it mean?"
Euric stared at the sword on the ground as he answered, "That a gladiator must learn to die if the crowd wills it," he looked back up, " ...with honor."
Juko was stunned slightly by his words.
Euric shrugged, "But, you're right, Juko. I admit, I have been lax in your training." He examined the practice arena, hiding the many schemes that stirred behind his dark blue eyes, "Well, maybe not lax but reticent, certainly."
"But, I... I know how to die!" Juko continued in his defiance. "And-and if I am condemned to die, so be it. I will meet my death with honor-"
"No," Euric smiled, this time warmly, "no you won't. Not you, Juko. You will go down fighting, just as your brother did."
Juko's eyes lowered to the ground.
And I wouldn't have it any other way, the Vandal thought to himself.
Juko inhaled deeply, "I want to fight but I only want to fight as a Tiro, a true gladiator. I told you that I have fought before, trained by my brother. I will show you if needs be."
Euric put an arm across Juko's shoulder, "That's not a bad idea, actually. I haven't done you justice, my son. Yes, Juko, show me. Show me you are worthy of the title of Tiro and I will grant it to you." He looked over at the other gladiators who had stopped their training and had begun to gather around, "T'tembo, come over here."
The large, well-muscled man stepped from the crowd. He wore the same style of loincloth as the trainers, though his was of a different color denoting his rank of palus primus - the highest rank of all the fighters in Euric's school. He made his way towards the lanista and knelt before him, "I am at your service."
Euric rolled his eyes and tapped T'tembo's shoulder with his flywhisk, "Get up, you fool! I can't stand all that... pretense!"
T'tembo nodded and arose from the ground in a single graceful motion that brought him side-by-side with Juko, who, while quite tall himself, stood only as high as the other man's shoulder. "What do you want of me, lanista?"
He laughed slightly to himself, "What I want of you, T'tembo, is to give me a practice match here with young Juko."
"Sir," he looked unsure, "I-"
"You would defy me?"
He bowed his head quickly, "No, lanista, never."
"Castor, equip our lead fighter with his own lusoria arma. We want to keep it... non-lethal. Juko, what do you choose: sword or-"
"No weapon," Juko answered flatly.
Euric seemed amused by his choice, "If that is what you wish." He leaned in and whispered closely next to Juko's ear, "But, even a wooden sword can do damage to an unprotected scalp. Do you still wish to remain unarmed?"
"I said 'no weapon' - but rarely am I unarmed."
"Your choice," he leaned back, "but if you win this, I will tell you some of what I know about your brother's death."
Juko's eyes flicked over to him, then straight ahead. The lanista took a few steps back and addressed the gladiators, "This will not be a timed match but it will be to the proverbial death. When you are beat, you must yield. Gladiators, ready?"
The two men, so mismatched in size, stood in the center of the training field in an area now ringed by the other gladiatorial recruits. The men began to murmur as they eyed each one and placed bets as to which would be their personal champion.
"We a