FIVE: Hadrianus Agricola Triticum

  The lack of pain was the first thing that Cassius noticed. Everything from the wounds on his face and shoulder, to the normal ache in his feet from marching, or the strained muscle in his lower back from moving barrels to barricade the gate. All of it was erased as his eyes slowly opened, and white silk drapes filled his view. A warm breeze ran across his face, and the silk drapes blew gently as Cassius became aware of the rocking motion underneath him.

  “Hello?” Cassius croaked, throat dry as the desert. He reached up and tried to pull apart one of the drapes, but someone beat him to it. Armored fingers grabbed the delicate silk and pulled it back, a man’s hard-lined face revealed as he leaned in.

  “My lady, the boy is awake,” the man growled, voice soured by smoke and drink. The veteran disappeared, only for a middle-aged woman to appear, dark hair streaked gray, flat blue eyes peering at him as she leaned forward, while her slim fingers stabbed into Cassius’ neck.

  “Ack,” Cassius coughed, but the woman’s scowl caused him to retreat into the pillows and soft cushions of the palanquin as the woman frowned further before removing her hand. A chill rolled through Cassius as heat fled him, drawn forth from him by the woman’s finger.

  “Slight fever, but it’s been removed. Water and double rations, and he’ll be fine in a day or two,” the woman said, turning to look toward someone that Cassius couldn’t see.

  “Thank you, Geraldine, your work is appreciated,” a muffled voice said. The medicus bowed her head and disappeared as another armored figure appeared, the rolling gait of their torso an easy giveaway that she was mounted, even if her horse was out of sight.

  Cassius recognized the figure, one of those who had led the charge against the massive imps. Head to toe in gleaming armor, not a single decoration on the armor to give a hint of their bloodlines. Their hand rose and pulled back the helm, sliding it up on a well-oiled hinge to reveal a young woman’s tanned face, her green eyes bright and standing out as she smiled widely toward him.

  “Legionnaire Cassius Null. I am Viridian Agricola Triticum. You may call me Vira,” the woman said. Cassius felt his heart drop through his chest, through his guts, and out of his body as he stared down at the woman of the first strata. She was so far above him that it was impossible to quantify.

  “Water, of course. Geraldine did say you needed some,” Vira said as she pulled her own canteen from her saddle before she offered it. For a horrifyingly long moment, Cassius couldn’t move—Vira was half out of the saddle and holding the canteen in one hand. There was amusement on her face, but if it changed to ire, he was going to die faster than if the imps had gotten hold of him.

  “Thank you, m’lady,” Cassius groaned as he reached over and grabbed the canteen, heavy with water, and slumped back into the silks. The motion had stripped him of his anxiety-filled strength. Pulling the cork free, he swallowed the warm water, sweet as anything he’d ever tasted before.

  “That is prime,” Cassius managed to choke out as he forced his lips free of the skin. Vira smiled widely as she laughed, a deep sound for a woman, but alluring to the ear as she rested against the cantle, her wrists crossed in front of her.

  “I have had the misfortune to be healed before, though admittedly never as severely as you were injured. Geraldine says you were on death’s door, exsanguination and internal trauma,” Vira said, clucking her tongue as they continued.

  “My file?” Cassius asked as he remembered himself.

  “Only those who were with you survived. We buried the others outside the granary. I do have a few questions for you, though,” Vira said.

  “Marcus would be better to ask,” Cassius said, trying to divert the noblewoman’s attention.

  “I have already asked him, and he’s answered, but I want to hear everyone’s story. Please, tell me what happened in your own words,” Vira asked so politely that Cassius couldn’t help himself and started to speak as fast as he could, punctuating his statements with swallows of water from the canteen.

  Their century had been on patrol across this stretch by the border of the Shifting Wall. Centurion Lucilia Durum had ordered several files to take foot patrols to ensure that the granaries were secured. They had just been the unlucky group to encounter the summoned imps. Telling of the battle, Cassius ensured that he spoke of Marcus’ bravery and skill, and of his fellow legionnaires' endurance and perseverance— end inside the room as the monsters had come from the shadows.

  “Good, your words align with Marcus’. I hate to inform you, but this is not the only incursion we’ve seen. Several small villages were found in similar states to the granary, which is why we have gathered here. My mother ordered a sweeping cleansing of the land, and the good senator joined us with his guard.”

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  “Mother?” Cassius asked, but had a feeling that he knew who her mother was.

  “Flavinia Agricola Triticum. Worry not, I am not her heir,” Vira said with another reassuring smile. Cassius didn’t feel reassured as he set aside the drained canteen and looked at the relaxed noblewoman. She had led a charge that killed imps that would have taken several files working together to fight, single-handedly.

  “The senator is your…?” Cassius asked.

  “Uncle. He couldn’t inherit and didn’t wish to part with power by being married to another, so he became a politician,” Vira said, spitting off to the side as she showed her feelings on that.

  “It seems my sister has not taught her youngest how to respect their elders,” a baritone voice said, and Cassius cursed as the drapes kept him from seeing who it was, but he was certain it was the senator.

  “It was not toward you, uncle, but the profession itself,” Vira said, not at all worried about the senator’s anger. The man in word appeared on the side of the young noblewoman, his bearing just as prideful and powerful as when Cassius had seen him while on the walls of the granary.

  “I must thank you, legionnaire. Your and your fellows' sacrifice is appreciated in helping us rid ourselves of this new scourge. The wild lands beyond the Shifting Wall as always curses us,” the senator said calmly. There was no actual emotion in the man’s voice; he spoke of the death of the seven legionnaires as one does about the weather. Something observed and then forgotten.

  “It was our duty,” Cassius said, feeling the strain even further now as the powerful senator rode next to them. It was bad enough with a member of the first strata, but now another one who held a senator’s position. If he could, Cassius would rather fight the imps again.

  “Of course it was. We return toward your century now. I believe this scourge has grown far too severe for us to handle separately, and we shall move together with the legion.” The senator sneered as he said that, disgusted by having to deal with the lower-class members who formed the legions.

  “We need the manpower. There are scores of small villages, and we personally own a dozen granaries like the one you found. It could be disastrous for the entire republic if we lose this harvest,” Vira said. The senator bobbed his head in agreement before leaning around Vira.

  “I hope you are feeling well. My wife would like to have her palanquin back.” Cassius felt his heart stutter and freeze as he forced his limbs to move, crawling off the soft cushions as he tried to leave. Vira held a hand up, and Cassius froze as the noblewoman frowned at her uncle.

  “Geraldine is fine walking for a bit longer while the legionnaire recovers his strength. It wasn’t she who fought and bled for our people,” Vira said with heat in her voice. Senator Hadranius bowed his head in acknowledgement of the words, making it seem as if it had been his idea. He rode away a second later, and the two younger versions of him followed behind, neither bothering to look at him.

  “I apologize for causing distress amongst your family,” Cassius said as he uneasily sank back into the cushions. Even with the fear of the senator driving him, he was still too weak to march with them. Not yet.

  “Uncle forgets his place. He is a member of our family and bows his head to my mother, whom I represent here. A senator may decide the rules of the republic, but it is to their matriarchs they bow their heads,” Vira said.

  “Of course,” Cassius agreed, having no idea how the intricate dance of power worked. All of the strata were beyond him, their games nebulous and vague. Vira turned to him and smiled again, her mood already forgotten.

  “I like a man who has courage. All of your fellows spoke well of you, and you handled our questioning well. Pius nearly fainted when I spoke to him, and Valeria couldn’t look me in the eye,” Vira revealed.

  “You are intimidating,” Cassius told her, a bit of confidence being born as she hadn’t killed him yet. Vira laughed, throwing her head back and roaring as her shoulders shook.

  “You should meet my sisters. We are borderlords and born for battle, regardless of our namesake. This is just the next battle,” Vira said, her mirth apparent as she nudged her horse ahead, her laughter trailing behind her like a cloak as she disappeared. Cassius had only a moment of peace before Marcus was there, walking quickly with only his head apparent.

  “You kept your looks, lucky you. I’ve been lugging your shield and pack for hours.” Marcus didn’t say anything else, but the command was obvious enough for Cassius.

  “The healer told me to rest a while longer. Or my wounds may open again,” Cassius lied, leaning back into the silks and enjoying the look of frustration and suspicion on Marcus’ face as the man faded back. Cassius pulled the curtain close and leaned back, and sighed as he looked upward toward the ceiling of the palanquin. It was the first time in days he’d had even the illusion of privacy, and all the tension he’d been holding slowly worked its way out of him.

  His shoulders shook as he bit his lip till it bled, as hot tears washed down his face. No noise made it out of his body, but he remembered his dead comrades, repeating their names to himself as the day wore on.

  Sometime later, he felt himself unclench. The pain of the battle was still there, the weight of the missing still a burden on his chest and shoulders, but he felt cleaner. As if scourged of the remnants of the fight, the last wounds of the heart flushed clean of the poison just as his body had been. He dabbed at his eyes with the cloth of his tunic, now recognizing the fresh clothes as not being his own.

  “Stop, please. I need to walk,” Cassius called out to the bearers as he threw open the silks and looked for his boots. Marcus was only a few feet away, his armor bright in the sunlight as sweat rolled down his face.

  “Ready to take your place?” Marcus asked, the shifting mass on his back, Cassius’ shield.

  “Yes, sir,” Cassius said as he leapt free of the palanquin and landed barefoot on the ground. In a minute, he had his boots on, shield on his arm, and sword belted to his waist as they finished their march toward the centurion’s camp.