It's a Love Thing

by Cindy C. Bennett

  I will myself to step aside and walk around her. “Go home, Nerva. We shan’t be together.”

  “Why, why not?” She grabs my arm.

  “In three days I shall kill your father and you’ll hate me the way I hate him.” I take one more step before she throws herself at me.

  “Then kill me too, for I’ll welcome death than be apart. I’d rather die than live without you. You can’t come into my life, take over my heart then leave me.”

  Nerva’s words shock me.

  “I’ve done nothing to deserve your feelings. I treated you badly.”

  “You saved me.”

  “I kidnapped you with the intention of killing you in front of your father.”

  “You are a just man. I see how you treat your people, how they all love you.” She cries in my arms, her little fists drumming into my chest. She looks up at me and sighs. “Tell me … tell me when you held me in your arms in Aemirius’ hut you didn’t feel the same way as I did. Tell me you don’t want me, tell me . . .”

  I hold her and know I’ve lost the battle.

  “Let’s get you out of the water. Your foot is not completely healed.”

  “You see?” She pushes a hand through my hair. “You care even if you don’t want to admit it.”

  It’s been a long day. I’m tired beyond exhaustion. The warm water and steam relaxes me too much, fogging my brain into oblivion. Nerva’s presence sends sparks through my muscles, my body hungers for her. I lift her in my arms and step out of the water. When I set her down, she removes her shirt, taking my hand and kissing slowly one finger at a time.

  “Love me, Ilias. Love me.”

  *****

  “My king, Traianus sent a courier.”

  All heads bowed over the map on the table jerk to see the soldier bringing the news. I roll up the map, pushing aside the stones that held it in place while we planned the battle. I take my time before I respond. The messenger can wait. My voice can't betray how nervous I am now. I'm surprise by Traianus’ move, for my epistle to him when I kidnapped Nerva gave explicit instructions how the exchange shall happen.

  I wish my friends were with me, but I only have my generals and Bastisza present here. Upon arriving in our camp, they went to their unit and I haven't seen them since. It's the first time our disagreement has lasted this long. True, I never before went back on my word; whatever we planned has always been finished, no questions asked.

  It's different now. Nerva's presence has changed everything. Instead of her fiercest enemy, I’ve become her lover. Instead of killing her, I want her to live more than anything, no matter the risk, no matter the sacrifice. I have nightmares of my mother and sister, reminding me of the oath I took to avenge their deaths. My father visits my nights as well, but instead of talking with me like he always has, he only shakes his head, turns his back on me and walks away. I wake up drenched in sweat, my hate renewed—and then I see Nerva slumbering next to me, and for reasons I can't explain, my anger disappears.

  “Send him in.”

  The commotion outside the tent matches the one within. My generals stand as do I. I glance at Bastisza and his trusting bearing calms me somewhat. His short nod and eye movement speak more than words can say. You can do it. I'm determined to not disappoint him and the thousands of soldiers gathered outside, waiting for my signal to take the Romans down once and for all.

  The tent's folds are lifted and a man dressed in white, with a red scarf and shiny armor enters. He only looks at me, coming straight forward and lifting his arm in the typical Roman salute. He removes his golden helmet and a murmur of surprise fills the air as swords are withdrawn and pointed at him.

  Traianus.

  I'd recognize him amidst thousands, with his short gray hair slightly curled, set high on his wide forehead. Small chin, large nose but well cut, the eyes deep set, and fine lips, with a general expression of determination and audacity. A man with the world at his feet. Now within reach and unprotected. He must be desperate to get Nerva back, or insane. He’s come by himself and has no weapons that I can see. All I need is to reach to my belt, grab my father's dagger and slice his throat. Or stab him in the heart and twist the blade until he takes his last breath. It’s that simple.

  “I shall have you hunted for the rest of your life. All I need do is place a reward on your head and you will spend the rest of your life hiding.” Traianus looks me over like one assessing his next acquisition. “I admired your father for his courage to take his own life rather than become my prisoner. But you surpass him by far. To come into my home and steal from me—there is not one soul in the whole Roman Empire capable of doing that.”

  “You didn’t come here to compliment me, did you?”

  Traianus chuckles.

  He bows to set his helmet down on a nearby chair. It's a bad move that has two of my generals grabbing him on each side and Bastisza from behind, with a dagger pressed against his stretched neck. I expect Traianus to put up a fight. He doesn't. His calm demeanor unnerves me. I want him to be mad. Demanding to see Nerva. Trying to kill me. Anything but this relaxed bearing.

  “I mean no harm,” Traianus spreads his fingers up in the air, his tone light.

  I don't need to speak, only motion to my men and they release Traianus.

  My voice is steady, and I thank the gods for it. “I thought my epistle was clear enough. Exchange at sunset.” I walk around the table and recline in my chair.

  “Indeed it was. But I must speak to you of a greater matter.”

  “Greater than your daughter?”

  There is a spark in his eyes and a slight flinching. Is he surprised I know Nerva is not his niece?

  “So you know.”

  “I have my own spies.”

  “Like father like son. Decebalus was the only king I considered my equal.”

  If he’s trying to get to me, he is close, yet his words sound sincere; his eyes hold no mockery.

  “Too bad you had to kill him, right?”

  “Much water has rolled down the Danube, since then.”

  “You've risked a lot by coming here. I can have you killed.”

  Traianus inclines his head slightly and raises his hands in surrender, then places them on his chest. “I'm well aware of that. But I'm sure you're not Decebalus' son in vain. He wouldn't kill someone who comes to negotiate.”

  “Negotiate?” My fists connect with the table. “You are in no position to negotiate. I can have both your daughter and you killed in front of my soldiers as you deserve!”

  “And you shall do just that, if—” he raises a finger in the air, “by the time I explain my visit you still feel the same.”

  I've wasted enough time. Traianus’ presence in my camp reminds me of all the reasons I hate him and his own. I have a goal and I must follow through with it.

  “Let's hear it.”

  “I won’t fight you. Instead I'm asking for a truce.”

  My men snort and so do I. “And I shall accept it just like that?”

  “More so,” Traianus continues unperturbed, “I ask you to become my ally and fight together with my army, not against my army.”

  “And I shall hand you the rest of my father's treasure, the one that Bilicis traitor didn't show to you yet. Or better yet, perhaps chain my generals and have you feed them to the lions for your people's amusement.” Laughter resonates within the tent.

  “Ilias, you love this land more than the life within your chest. We can fight each other or we can fight together against the Saxons. Their army crossed the Danube by the Iron Gates and is marching here as we speak. There are more than our armies combined, but together we might have a chance.”

  I can tell my men are as shocked as I am by the offer. They are loud and ready to lynch Traianus. The uproar is too much—I need to think quickly and react even quicker. Walking around the table, I come face to face with my father's killer. He's shorter than me, but he doesn’t budge one bit, looking me straight in the eyes, shoulders pulled back.


  It's quiet again when I say, “And why would I believe you? How do I know it’s not a trap? You're a master at such games, are you not?”

  “My daughter left in your custody; is that reason enough?”

  “You forget her life is already in my hands. Offer more than that.”

  “I can't offer you Dacian autonomy, if this is what you wish for.”

  “Then so be it.” My stomach knots painfully at my own words, knowing I’ve just signed the death of all my men. I can fight the Roman army, but not them and the Saxons. I can ask for assistance from the Carpi and Costaboci, the free Dacian tribes on the other side of the Carpathians, but it would take a while until they can reach us. And it might be too late.

  Our conversation is over and Traianus knows it. He takes his helmet and runs two fingers on its edge. I’ll wager it’s made of Dacian gold.

  He starts saying something, but I cut him short, “Safe return is granted.”

  Two of my people flank Traianus, escorting him out of my tent. I want him out so I can sit—my knees buckle under the enormity of the burden on my shoulders.

  Before he leaves, he turns one more time and says, “My next plan is to conquer Carpi and Costaboci, expand the Roman Empire further North-East into Sarmatia. I give you my word I shan't attack them if you choose to aid me. If not, I shall see you at dusk.”

  I crash in my chair, troubled by his last words. Cursed be Traianus and his people! Curse him and his thirst for blood and power! I knew of his plans to expand further into Parthia and Mesopotamia, but not to enslave the last Dacian tribes. Their fate lies in my hands. Theirs and my army's. People who left their families behind to fight for a cause, the Dacian cause, and believe in me to free them. People I took an oath with to destroy the Romans.

  And yet here I am contemplating allying myself with my enemy.

  *****

  I call for my men to share the news about Traianus’ visit and the offer he’s made me. They come, clad in their armor, ready for the fight. They are all quiet and somber. My friends, my brothers. All look alike, their Dacian origins incontestable: tall and broad shouldered. Shades of blond, long hair, and beards they rarely cut. The sun’s touch in every line of their young faces and eyes the color of the August sky. Scars—some old, some new—testifying of their bravery and loyalty.

  They are the closest to a family I’ve ever had and my heart swells with pride and affection: for Galtys, the youngest, for his fearless and heated temper. For Ursus, for his quiet, mellow nature until his enemy stands before him, and his ability to fight barehanded—no shield had ever stayed in his way. For Vipero, the fastest of all soldiers amidst any army. He’s the first of us to settle down, and the first soon-to-be father. For Zyraxes who charms every skirt. His dexterity extends beyond the battlefield, excellent at fixing injuries, but hearts—not so much. For Bastisza, for his loyalty and honesty. For protecting me and showing me the path when I was nothing but a lost sheep.

  Their reaction to my news is exactly what I expect—nothing more, nothing less.

  “That woman, cursed be the day she were born!” Ursus spits.

  “It's not her fault,” I say, trying to keep the focus on the problem at hand, not bring Nerva into it.

  “Even the gods know it but you are too blind too see it,” Galtys replies before Ursus has a chance.

  “We can fight the Romans and the Saxons, you know we can.” Vipero's fist slams into the table.

  I sigh, “It’s a sure death for all of us.”

  “I rather die fighting than allying myself with the Romans.” As young as he is, Galtys holds nothing back.

  “Don't tell me you’re considering that snake's offer?” Zyraxes' eyes drill through me.

  “You can’t go back on your word, Ilias, you can’t. You already broke one promise. If you break another one, people lose faith in you. Think it through before you make another mistake.”

  I’m so close to Vipero, our noses nearly touch. “Don’t you think I know that? But what would you have me do: fight the Romans or protect our brothers? I’m sworn to fight our enemies, whoever they are, and right now the Romans aren’t our enemies. We can regroup and attack them another time. Dacia is invaded by merciless people. They are worse than the Romans.”

  Ursus pushes Vipero away, a vein pulses in his temple. He makes a large circle with his right arm, “Everyone here has risked his life for you. For you and this land. Ten long years—the blood we shed and ordeals we endured—in exchange for this one moment and you want to take it from us?”

  “Not take it away. Just delay it, and we shall have our revenge. I swear to you!”

  My friends exchange glances. They don’t need to voice what they think for I know it. One of them will soon speak for the group. I feel as I’m on the edge of a ravine, my heart heavy. Whatever I decide I either lose my friends or lose all my people.

  I turn my back to them, my palms resting against the fine wood of the table. We all carved it. Bastisza didn’t allow us to speak before we finished it; we had to communicate without words. A few lashes later, we learned the hard way.

  I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, the memory of us working on the wood still so alive, so dear to my heart. When I open my eyes, I see Nerva behind the curtain leaning against the tent’s pole. She’s pale and dressed in Dacian clothing. The red embroidery on her white shirt matches the red of her lips and for a moment I yearn to kiss her one more time. But I’ve already said goodbye to her. She shall return to her father.

  Something inside me stirs and I know I’ve reached a decision. I turn to face my friends, calmer than I’ve ever felt.

  “Whatever your resolve, I shall respect it. Keeping our brothers safe is my responsibility, whatever the ransom.”

  “Is this your last word?” Vipero says.

  “It is.”

  “Then so be it. Farewell, my friend.”

  One by one my friends salute me and leave.

  Except for Bastisza.

  “I’m proud of you,” he says, crushing my shoulder under his bear paw.

  I’m worn out by the encounter, but I can’t rest. There is still a lot to do before sunset. I exit the tent to a sea of tents and soldiers. My soldiers. I hear the clunk of armor, the hammering of hot iron, the horses’ snicker. I smell hay and men, supper and human scum. It’s humid and hot, another long and cloudless day. The horizon is blackened by the minute. At first it’s a fine line. Then, as the sun goes higher and higher the line becomes thicker and thicker. Soon the earth will tremor—they’ll be here by the morrow.

  “I shall address the army. Get them ready.”

  *****

  A fine breeze starts, giving men and horse a welcome rest from heat. The sun sets behind us, a red disk of fire. The path atop the hill is smooth and open; I can see Traianus waiting, rubbing his horse’s neck. He’s once again bold, coming without any guards.

  Nerva and I ride side by side.

  We don’t talk. It’s better this way. I can hide my emotions from everyone else; I won’t be able to do it in front of her. We’ve only spent a few days together, but I feel as if we’ve been together since Adam and Eve, for all eternity. She’s all I’ve ever dreamt a woman, my woman, shall be, and yet there is no future for us.

  I wager all my aces in one move, risking much more than only losing Nerva. As Traianus said, she should remain under my wing until the battle is over. But in case my army is defeated she’ll be safe with the Romans. With my men, she’ll be killed.

  “You kept your word,” Traianus says when Nerva descends. She runs to him and throws herself in his wide-open arms. He smiles at her and kisses her forehead, then touches the tip of her nose. “Mia filia.”

  I give father and daughter time to talk, and dismount further away. Nerva speaks fast, bits of words spoken louder than others. She remains with the horses while Traianus joins me. I stand side by side with my worst enemy, watching the Saxons invade my Dacia.

  “Bringing Nerva . .
. does it mean you’ll fight me?”

  “No. I’ll fight them,” I motion at the black shadow taking over the horizon.

  “You’re young and yet you prove to be a wise leader.”

  “It doesn’t mean I won’t fight you. I will one day.”

  “I have no doubt.” Traianus bows his head. He lifts his right arm toward me. “Truce?”

  My fingers wrap around his elbow. “Truce.”

  Traianus looks relieved. He places a hand on my shoulder and turns me toward the horses. “Nerva tells me . . . she wants to stay with you.”

  “She’s safer here.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” Traianus measures me and I cock an eyebrow. “She tells me she wants to remain with you. As your wife. She loves you, Ilias.”

  My heart feels ready to explode. My mother used to tell me she loved me. Meda, my sister used to do the same. Before he died, my father told me he loved me. But I’ve never had a woman tell me. Not a princess, and certainly not a Roman. Is it possible?

  “It’s not what you wanted for your daughter, is it?”

  Traianus lifts his chin slightly, looking straight ahead. For his age he stands mighty proudly, like a thoroughbred leader.

  “If foreseen, this union could’ve been publicly blessed and your father’s death avoided.”

  “He would’ve still fought you to keep Dacia’s autonomy.”

  “We’ll never know.”

  We reach Nerva. She bites her lips, darting glances between her father and I. He takes her hand and kisses it, smiling at her with his whole being. Then he takes my hand and places Nerva’s in mine, keeping his atop ours.

  “Forget the past, forgive the faults and love one another. I might not live to see your children, but you have my blessing. May the Gods be with you!”

  The sky shatters with light and with that, my short-lived happiness. Heavy, low clouds roll in, lightning and thunder crinkles the air.

  *****

  I’m ready.

  It takes us the whole night to march behind the Saxons. We rest most of the day while Romans collide with them first, tiring and weakening them as Traianus and I planned. I’m atop the hills, hidden in the woods with my army, ready to attack from behind. There is no escape. It’s a sea of blood before my eyes and I crave to pass those bastards through my sword. I can almost taste victory.