by AM Kirkby
***
"Everything grows out of his fears," Teitu said. "He thinks Tarchna will only be safe if she rules the entire League. "
"He's only head of the League for this year, though."
"Wait and see."
"But the election always passes to the next city, in order."
"There have been exceptions. Under Thefarie, when the earth shook on the day of the election, and the comet confirmed his precedence. During famine and drought. That's recorded in the temple histories. And in time of war."
"War with Rome?" asked Tarquin.
"Exactly. Why do you think he's so strong for war?"
Gods, this was strong stuff. Without thinking Tarquin turned to look behind him, checking for unseen listeners; but this was why they'd ridden out this morning, down the cliff road to the plains and then north to the sharp valleys still half hidden in mist, and the hills stippled with bare trees. For hunting, they'd said, and they'd brought two tall hounds with them, as well as their bows and a javelin each, but they both knew it was to talk, as well, to talk seriously and without any possibility of being overheard.
The morning had not been fruitful; they'd seen the slots of deer in the soft mud of the path, and the dogs had given tongue, but they had seen only one small hind, who splashed across a stream some way from them and bounded diagonally up the slope opposite till she disappeared into the skimpy woods. They'd found a spot on rising ground overlooking the valley, where foresters had been at work; the ground was scattered with woodchips, and there were huge tree stumps cut off about knee high, one of which they had used as an impromptu seat. The dogs had gone off chasing each other down towards the river, and the horses were hobbled and grazing in the pasture below. Drifting mist still obscured the course of the river, though here the air was clear, and the sun cast golden highlights on the woods opposite.
They'd sat and shared their provisions, not frugal but yet plain; hard sausage they had to tear with their teeth, and an aged cheese like a breast, with an off-centre nipple where the cloth drainage bag had been tied, and yesterday's bread, the crust gone hard. But the sausage was finely flavoured with fennel, and the cheese, though yellowing, was soft and pungent, and they washed the meal down with a wine that seemed to be full of autumn's warmth, tasting of blackberries and tannin. And they'd talked; or rather Tarquin had asked the questions, and Teitu had talked, about Tarchna, the city Tarquin had heard so much about but never seen - about the temple on its hill, about the walls, the harbour town of Gravisca, the potteries, the palaces, the laukum and the twelve great families of zilaths, the gardens and the December horse races and duck-hunting in the marshes, and the never ceasing music of the jewellers' planishing hammers in the dark streets of the inner city.
But now talk had turned to policy, and Thresu's determination to take the League to war.
"And you?" Tarquin asked Teitu. "What do you think? Is Rome to be destroyed?"
"I think we can be more ambitious."
"What's more ambitious than an enemy's total destruction?"
"A greater League. Look: Tarchna goes back how many generations? Walk out from Tarchna along the ridge of the hill, and you pass the tombs of my ancestors; ten in a line, each tomb another forty, fifty years, perhaps, and beyond that, the nameless mounds half fallen back into the grass, as the road runs downhill towards the valley. Tarchna's wealth has been long in the getting. And yet in three generations Rome has risen from nothing. We may be rich, but the past is always pulling at us; nothing changes, nothing moves. And Rome, on the other hand, Rome's very nature is rebellion and change. How much more could we do with Rome than against her!"
Tarquin had thought he was too old for such enthusiasm, too cynical for idle dreams of glory; what had his wonderful performance at Veii won for him but exile? What had Strephon's bravery won but death? But looking at Teitu's open and earnest face, he felt himself warmed by the inspiration; perhaps, just perhaps, they could wrest a golden age from this cold grey winter. It wsnt just Teitu's youth that made his face such an imperfect copy of Tanaquil's, despite the startling similarity; there was an unguarded quality to his look, as there never was to Tanaquil, a kind of innocence. Let Teitu never be disillusioned, he thought, let disappointment never tarnish him.
"I need the right partner," Teitu said. "I need a man who could stand back to back with me against the world."
"That kind of thing is overrated," said Tarquin, arguing against his own feelings. "Once you're standing back to back, you know you've lost your bloody army."
"Two of us against the world." Teitu leant closer, and his eyes were full of strange brightness, and his lips trembled. Tarquin could feel Teitu's breath, warm and moist, on the side of his face.
"You know," Tarquin said, "they don't like this kind of thing in Rome." He leant forward, and put his hand on Teitu's cheek, long fingers against long curve.
"And you don't, Roman?"
"I'm not a fucking Roman," Tarquin said.
Teitu was softer than Tullia; with Tullia it was like wrestling, whereas Teitu seemed fluid, yielding. Tarquin had never thought much about loving men; he'd never needed to, there being so many women available to him, though perhaps, if Strephon had lived, they might have been closer. In the end, he thought, it was all much the same which sex you fucked; the result was the same excruciating moment of breathless surrender, like the pain of breathing in frozen air after a run on a cold morning.
Afterwards, they finished the wine, and Teitu whistled the dogs back. There was not enough time to go further along the valley in search of a good chase, but they could cross over, and get back to Velzna on the other side, on fresh ground, though crossing back over the river lower down might not be easy. They crossed up the slope where they had seen the hind fleeing, and into the woods, where the bare branches still dripped dew, and drifts of wet leaves muffled their horses' hoofbeats. After a long, slow ascent, the woods gave way to high open moors, but though they twice startled hares from under the horses' feet, they saw no sign of any other game, and the hounds lost the first hare, though one of them brought back the second, limp in the dog's soft mouth.
They were silent for a long time, and then Teitu said, without preamble: "You won't tell Thresu about any of this?"
"I thought you were not ashamed of such things in Tarchna."
"Fool!" Teitu said, colouring, and his horse, catching his movement, sidestepped and shied a little, till Teitu could gentle it into obedience. He rode on for a few paces, and then said, quietly, "about our alliance. Well, if it is an alliance."
"I can't make promises, you know that."
"I know. You're not king of Rome."
"Servius won't rule for ever."
"All men must die," Teitu said solemnly. Yes, Tarquin thought, Servius certainly must die.