Eagle of Seneca

by Corrina Lawson

  Lake Wolf nodded and put her knife away, seemingly undisturbed by Ahala’s rash action. “There is a saying among our clan: actions prevented cannot be punished.”

  “Then prevent an attack on your people.” Ahala said. “Leave our fleet alone. Stay out of this war between Romans. Know that we have more men and more weapons than used by the Romans in the Battle for Seneca. If you oppose us, you will die or be enslaved. Remember that.”

  ****

  That appeared to be the last threat. Makki gestured and the Romans walked the few steps to their boat, leaving the warning ringing in Sky’s ears.

  She and the others backed off the beach, to the safety of the shore and then, more quickly, to disappear into the woods. They finally stopped and gathered in a wide circle at a clearing that was still brown from the winter.

  “This legate is clever,” Lake Wolf said.

  “How so?” said Quiet Dog.

  “He asks for the most unlikely first, and settles for what he needs most,” Sky answered.

  Lake Wolf smiled. Sky felt like preening.

  “Exactly,” Lake Wolf said. “What he really wanted was a safe place to hide his ships and his army from the Romans on Mannahatta. He wants us to keep his secret but what he needs most is for us to leave his ships and men alone. The idea of a guide...” Lake Wolf shook her head. “He had to know that would be as likely as catching a fly between two fingers.”

  “What do we do now, Mother?” Sky asked.

  “We do as he wants and leave the ships alone, so long as they leave us alone.”

  “They don’t plan to leave us alone forever,” Sky said. “Ahala went to the trouble to learn our language. They knew enough about our villages to send messengers. They will attack, at some point.”

  “They sent scouts so they could find a place to hide their fleet,” her mother said. “They were being careful. That’s all it is.”

  “For now,” Sky said. “But later?”

  “Sky, why are you arguing this?” Nighthawk stepped forward. “I agree with your mother. We stay back. If the Romans fight, they destroy each other and we’ll be rid of them. This will be all to the good for us.”

  “How can we trust Makki to keep his word? We know nothing of him,” Sky said. “Father, you know more Romans than any of us. Do you trust them?”

  “No,” Nighthawk said. “But Legate Makki at least came to us with words and not swords, which is more than the others have ever done.”

  “He didn’t need to draw swords. He only needed to threaten violence to get what he wanted,” Sky said.

  “We both postured.” Lake Wolf scowled. “What would you have us do, daughter? Pick sides?”

  “We are picking sides.” Sky returned the scowl. “The Romans living here are on their own. Makki said so. But if the legate wins, he has the backing of others across the ocean. He could bring in more soldiers and more troops after his victory.

  “The Romans living on Mannahatta have only themselves to rely on. We do not have the means to drive them away. But they do not have the means to attack us either. We should consider an alliance with them.”

  Sky’s throat went dry. She had never spoken so publicly against her mother. The clearing suddenly seemed unusually quiet. Nighthawk bowed his head, no longer willing to protect her. Several others cleared their throats. The silence felt oppressive and threatening.

  Lake Wolf let the silence build. She must know how scared I am. Mothers always know.

  “Sky.”

  Only one word. The shortened version of her name. But she flinched.

  “Are you saying we need to accept the Roman presence forever?” Lake Wolf asked.

  Sky flushed. She took a few deep breaths. “Yes, I am saying that. They are here. We can’t get rid of them. Let’s keep their numbers small.”

  “I will not accept that,” Lake Wolf snapped. “You say it’s impossible. That’s weak and unworthy of you. Other tribes to the south have destroyed Romans when ships landed there. They kept their lands clear. We should too.”

  I’m not weak. Sky met her mother’s gaze, challenging.

  “This is about more than ships. These Romans have been here for five generations,” Sky said. “The time to drive them away was when they first stepped on the land. They aren’t going away now. Ever.”

  Everyone stared at her again, some with mouths open in shock. She’d answered Lake Wolf’s question about letting the Romans stay honestly but it had turned them against her. The question had been a trap.

  Clever, Mother.

  Sky crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look as stern as her mother did when arguing. “What I am saying for now is that Romans killing Romans may not be a good thing in the end for us.”

  “Better than Romans killing us,” Lake Wolf said.

  The others nodded assent.

  “Please, listen.” Sky took a deep breath. “All I am saying that the Romans here are better allies than Legate Makki. The leaders on Mannahatta may be more trustworthy and, more importantly, less capable of attacking us after the war is over.”

  “The Romans here have already shown themselves our enemy. Or do you not remember who pushed the Wolf Clan off Mannahatta?” Lake Wolf asked. “Or who stole Quiet Dog’s little brother?”

  “I remember,” Sky said. “But also remember that we know what the Romans here can do. We may not have seen what Makki el-Andulasi can do.”

  Someone snorted. Sky looked over and saw it was Quiet Dog. Whether it was a snort of agreement or derision, she didn’t know.

  “This is what we will do.” Lake Wolf turned her back on her daughter. The others hushed, waiting on her words. “We need to speak to the clans on Mannahatta. They are closest to the threats posed by Legate Makki and the Romans already living on Mannahatta. We need to hear what they know.”

  She pointed at Sky. “You and your father will go to their village of Shorakapkok. You will speak for the Wolf clan, Sky. I expect you to properly report to them what was said to us today.” Lake Wolf set her jaw. “Their shaman, Deep Water, may have good advice. If you will not listen to me, then perhaps you will listen to her. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you.” Sky nodded. Her mother was giving her a job, a chance to voice her opinion to Deep Water, the most revered shaman among the clans. It was more than she expected.

  “And you will avoid the Romans, all of them,” Lake Wolf said.

  “As you wish,” Sky said.

  “Is this acceptable to all the clans of the People?” Lake Wolf asked.

  All gathered nodded assent.

  Lake Wolf turned to Sky. “Well, now, daughter, here is your chance to take up leadership, to prove that you are worthy of setting up your longhouse, to succeeding me one day.”

  I understand now. This is a test.

  “You are She Who Was Born Under Fire in the Sky. The prophecies from the night you were born say you are linked to both fire and air. Those are warlike elements. Perhaps your destiny is about to arrive. Here is your chance to seize it.”

  How, if no one believes what I feel is true?

  Sky nodded, grave, her stomach full of eruptions. She felt like she was going to be sick. She had asked for responsibility. Now she had it.

  “I will do my best.”

  Chapter Two

  “Ceti, doesn’t what happened to this man worry you?” Gaius pointed to a headless figure resting against the outside wall of the engineer’s workshop. “A person would have been killed.”

  “A person would have been able to land the aquila properly,” Ceti said, grinning. He felt like whistling. The last test flight had almost been perfect. He’d strapped the straw man, packed with heavy metal, into the aquila to test the effect of its weight on the flight. His creation had glided in the wind perfectly, even with the added burden of a person.

  Well, the replica of a person.

  “The wings handled the load just fine. And unlike the straw man, I’ll be able to control the aquila on the way down,” Ceti
said.

  “He lost his head,” Gaius answered.

  “His head was sewn on. Mine’s better attached.” Ceti put up a hand to shade the sun from his eyes and looked out over Manhatos toward the Narrows. Soon, he’d see the same view from a much higher vantage point. “The wind currents will only be right for a few days or, at the most, a week. I don’t want to wait and lose this chance. The flight has to be tomorrow.”

  “You need more tests,” Gaius said.

  “The only test left is this one, the one with a human pilot.” Ceti ignored the doubt. Gaius meant well. The young man was only echoing his stepfather Tabor’s view on the matter.

  You are wasting your time with a flying machine, engineer. You’ll get yourself killed and then who do I call when I need to build something to protect our people?

  Ceti turned his back to the sun and walked inside his workroom. One last inspection, of both the aquila and the launching mechanism, then he would fly the next morning. After years of waiting and working, this was his chance, his time.

  Fly or die.

  Or perhaps fly and die. The risk had to be taken.

  He absently picked up a scroll that had fallen into the sawdust on the floor and tossed it back on the wall shelf with all the other scrolls and books. Only a few had useful information about building a glider. Legion engineers knew how to fling objects great distances. They knew much less about keeping those objects in the air.

  Instead, inspiration for the aquila’s design had come not from Roman engineers but from the great eagles that owned the skies above Seneca and Manhatos.

  “Ceti, I think you better come back outside,” Gaius yelled.

  “What is it, Gaius?”

  “Engineer. Now.”

  Ceti turned. That was not Gaius. That was Tabor, Gaius’s stepfather. Ceti’s commander.

  Ceti squared his shoulders and walked outside.

  Tabor stood near the front entrance of his workshop, a squad of legionary soldiers at his back. Tabor looked grim, as did all his soldiers.

  What have I done?

  “Commander.” He nodded his head and saluted by hitting his fist to chest. He couldn’t remember doing anything wrong lately. By Vulcan’s forge, he couldn’t remember doing anything wrong, ever.

  “Tribune.” Tabor accepted the salute with an answering nod. He wore his military tunic, red adorned with the white eagle of Manhatos, and he had a sword strapped to his side but wore no armor or helmet.

  The soldiers had both.

  Ceti took a deep breath. Sometimes, when Tabor was expecting trouble, he traveled with an armed guard. That must be why the soldiers were with him. “Do you wish a close look at the aquila, Commander?”

  Tabor snorted. “Another time. You’re coming with us.”

  “Now, sir? But this is a critical point for—”

  “It is a critical time for Manhatos, Ceti. Come along.”

  “Sir, the winds are perfect for launching. I have some last preparations and—”

  “We don’t have the time. Come with me.”

  “I will only take a day and—”

  “If you continue to delay, I’ll order your aquila dismantled right now.”

  Ceti felt the blood drain from his face. “Yes, sir,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Good.” Tabor said. “Now come with me, both of you. I have something more important to discuss that flying dreams.”

  ****

  Once at Tabor’s residence in Manhatos, the soldiers were dismissed.

  “I didn’t take you away from that folly of ours without a good reason, Ceti,” Tabor said. “You are needed to shore up the defenses of Manhatos.”

  The commander paced as he talked, using his full height and presence to intimidate. The tactic usually worked. It should work tonight, especially since Tabor had chosen to have this conversation in the great chamber of his Manhatos villa, the one decorated with marble statues of the Roman gods.

  The villa, originally built by the previous Legion legate—now dead—was the last of its kind in Manhatos. Newer buildings were constructed from local materials and with designs that reflected the landscape and climate on the island, not faraway Italy. If Ceti had to rebuild this, he’d make a lot of changes.

  But the villa suited Tabor, who sometimes seemed the last of the true Romans in this new land.

  Ceti stared at the statue of Mercury, holding his temper, while his commander tried to intimidate him.

  Mercury was supposed to be able to run across the sky. Perhaps Ceti should offer something to the god tonight. He didn’t believe much in gods, he believed in what he could do with his hands and mind, but an offering might help the flight and would not hurt.

  He stood at parade rest. Many commanders would give an order and if immediate obedience didn’t follow, it would be beaten into them.

  Not Tabor’s way.

  No, he would explain his action and his logic, and try to get Ceti to agree with him of his own free will.

  Those who impose order have it for a short time. Those who receive order from others have it for a lifetime.

  So God Emperor Britannicus had said when consolidating an Empire that had lasted hundreds of years. Of course, that empire was crumbling now.

  Ceti looked at Tabor and noticed something that he had not before. He was a hand span taller than his commander. That must have been true for a long time. Yet he’d finally noticed it now.

  “Commander, I know you think my project is folly but the aquila does have practical military applications,” Ceti said. “With time, I could develop them.”

  “We have no time. War is on its way. I am expecting an Imperial Fleet to arrive at any moment now.”

  A fleet? “But the Empire is in disarray. How could they send a force against us?”

  “Not such disarray that they’ve forgotten us and our refusal to acknowledge their authority. Word came to me today, aboard the merchant ship that docked on the East River,” Tabor said. “My informant spoke of a fleet being sent by the new emperor. Apparently, crushing our rebellion is to be the first official act of his rule. The fleet left Italy at the same time my informant left Gaul. He made good time but the fleet cannot be more than a week or two behind, at the most. We have to prepare our defenses fast. And that is why you have no time to play with your aquila.”

  “The new emperor is insane. What could he gain from this?” Ceti shook his head. What value did a tiny outpost like Manhatos have to the Roman Empire?

  “The new Emperor is low on funds for troops. No doubt his representative will first demand our back tribute and taxes,” Tabor said. “My informant says he also wants renewal of our vows as citizens, along with a pledge of fealty. And I will be ‘requested’ to place our Legion and the Seneca garrison under direct control of the Emperor’s chosen legate.”

  Ceti sat down abruptly on one of the marble benches in the great hall.

  “He wants to replace you. And take away your loyal soldiers. He wants to impose his will on us.”

  “And likely strip the land of as many riches as he can, including acquiring slaves from among the Lenape and the other barbarian tribes. The trees here are perfect for building ships. And there are the exotic animal pelts.”

  “And when you refuse to comply with the orders, it will be war.” Manhatos would be outnumbered and, for certain, the outgunned. Ceti began to understand Tabor’s urgency.

  “What a waste of their resources.”

  “It sends a message,” Tabor said. “If the emperor can crush us here, across the sea, then others who are closer will fear being crushed as well,” Tabor said. “So you see, I did not act precipitously to tear you away from your aquila.”

  “Our walls can’t stand up to a barrage of cannon fire for very long,” Ceti said. “And the supply of black powder for the cannons will likely only last a week.”

  “I know. If we had more time but...” Tabor shook his head. “I read the report concerning our artillery supplies before coming to fetch
you. I need a miracle, Ceti. I need that innovative mind of yours working on new ways for Manhatos to defend itself against cannon fire or landing parties.”

  A miracle.

  “If I had ten aquilas, I could bomb the fleet from above somehow and—”

  “You don’t have ten aquilas. You don’t even know if the one you built works.” Tabor cut his arm in front of him. “Let it go, Ceti. This is reality. Dreams will have to wait. Walls before wings.”

  Walls before wings.

  “Yes, sir,” Ceti rasped.

  Tabor nodded. “Good. Now look at these plans with me. Give your opinion on what work needs to be started.”

  Ceti bent over the plans that Tabor unrolled on the floor.

  “How badly are we outnumbered?” Ceti asked.

  “Five to one,” Tabor said. “The ships can’t come up the East River. They’ll have to sail through the Narrows.”

  “And they’ll be in formation when they do.” Ceti circled a section of the wall that faced the Narrows. “We put the longest range cannon here, where they will do the most damage.”

  “If we can hit them, they can hit us,” Tabor said.

  “I’ll shore up this area with extra stone.” Ceti tapped the plans with his finger, his mind beginning to engage the new problem. “We’ll have to save our powder for when we’re certain of hitting them. You’ll have to evacuate the neighborhood next to the walls.”

  Tabor frowned. “The citizens will be less than thrilled,” he said drily.

  “No doubt,” Ceti agreed. “But the wooden buildings will be subject to fire. It’ll be dangerous to stay. Best to relocate them now, before the siege begins.” And Ceti was glad that he was responsible for the machines, not the citizens. He would far rather build walls than move people. Concrete was predictable and it didn’t yell back.

  “Too bad you can’t launch cannon balls from the catapult at your workshop,” Tabor said.

  “Who said we can’t?” Ceti answered. “But not that design exactly. What we want are ballistres and onagers.”

  “Ah. Now those are something I’ve only heard tales about. You think they would work?”

  “They’d be wood and more vulnerable to fire, but they won’t depend on powder. They’ll work on ropes and pulleys and torsion. We can keep using them so long as we have soldiers to man them. We could even fling cannonballs. Better yet, we could cover cannonballs with tar, light them, and then fling it at them. It won’t be as much force as a cannon but it could be effective in slowing down landing parties.”