The Marus Manuscripts

by Paul McCusker

  Titus was as round as he was tall. His torn trousers and stained shirt could barely contain his enormous form. His jowls flapped when he spoke, and his bald head glimmered with sweat no matter what the temperature around him. When he smiled, which he only ever did cruelly, one noticed that half his teeth were missing. Anna’s first impression was that he was the kind of man you would expect to sell little kids into slavery. Her impression was right. That’s exactly what he did.

  Titus bowed as low as his bulky frame would let him. “My general,” he said.

  “We found this trespasser in the king’s study. Sell her as a slave,” General Liddell ordered as he pushed Anna to the ground.

  “Very good, sir. The dealers meet in the morning.”

  “Don’t explain,” General Liddell said. “Just see to it.” He turned and left the same way he had come.

  “Hello, little girl,” Titus leered, then poked a finger at her pants. “Or are you a girl? You dress like a boy.”

  “It’s a mistake!” Anna cried out.

  Titus dragged Anna from the courtyard and down into a damp cellar that could be best described as a dungeon. The door even had bars on the window. He took her to a corner littered with moldy straw.

  “You won’t make me stay in here!” Anna cried. “Please don’t make me stay in here!”

  Titus laughed. Using rope, he tied her to an iron ring attached to the wall. “Night night,” he said and marched out, slamming the large door behind him. He peeked through the barred window. “I wouldn’t sleep much if I were you. The rats like to nibble.”

  Anna screamed.

  Kyle was on a steam train, the kind with an enormous chimney on top of the front engine. It puffed, whooshed, and whistled its way through the dark countryside. Kyle had followed the general—Darien was his name—onto the train, where the general told his entire regiment how Kyle had warned him about the fire poker and saved his life. The men gave Kyle extra-special consideration after that, offering him a hot meal and a comfortable berth in which to sleep. But sleep was the last thing Kyle wanted. He had dozens of questions about where he was and how he got there and who these people were. General Darien smiled at the boy and said they would talk after a good night’s rest. Kyle was sure he’d never rest—until his head hit the pillow. He slept until dawn.

  Kyle was awake before anyone else. He climbed down from the berth and discovered his clothes, washed and dried, hanging on a hook nearby. He put them on, then walked softly down the passageway. It stretched the length of the train car, with sleeping berths stacked up on both sides. He could hear some of the soldiers snoring behind the curtains that gave the small compartments their privacy.

  A sentry stood guard at the end of the car. He eyed Kyle carefully, remembered who the boy was, and said that he could get breakfast in the dining car, two cars ahead. Kyle thanked him and stepped through the door into the chilly morning air. He lingered there only a minute—just long enough to be impressed with the beautiful green countryside they rolled past. The train jolted, and Kyle decided he should get into the next car. Unlike the previous car, with berths stacked up along the passageway, this one had room-sized compartments with doors. Apart from the rattle and hum of the train itself, everything was quiet.

  Kyle went through to the next car, where tables were set up for dining, just as the sentry had said. A man in a white jacket smiled at Kyle and gestured to a window seat at one of the tables. Kyle sat down. Before he could say anything at all, the man had placed a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk in front of him.

  “Compliments of the general,” the man said. “He told me to give you the full treatment.”

  Kyle liked being treated like a hero.

  Light poured in through the window. Kyle craned his neck to see if this world had more than one sun. He found himself squinting at just one, which was rising on the horizon. But the fields and trees that lay in front of it seemed somehow brighter, more vibrant, and greener than anything he’d seen in his world. He leaned back in the chair and wondered if it was a trick of the light or perhaps only his imagination.

  The train whistle sounded as they passed through a station. Kyle looked out the window in time to see dozens of people on the platform. Some waved and shouted enthusiastically. Others held signs saying things like “Hooray General Darien!” and “General Darien, our hero.”

  “Wow,” Kyle said to himself.

  “They love him, you know,” a man said to Kyle. Startled, Kyle looked over to the end of the table. The man standing there was dressed in a double-breasted gray uniform with medals on his chest. He had a wrinkled brow that made him look stern, though his face was young. He had wavy red hair and wore a goatee. The man pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from Kyle. “May I?” he asked after he’d already sat down. “I’m Colonel Oliver.”

  “I’m Kyle.”

  “Oh, I know who you are,” Colonel Oliver said softly. “You’re the boy who saved our general’s life. And for that, we’re eternally grateful. But I’d like to know who you really are and what you’re up to.”

  The words came so fast and the tone stayed so pleasant that, for a moment, Kyle didn’t catch on to what the colonel was saying. “Up to?” he asked.

  “Don’t toy with me, young man. How did you wind up in that room when the general was there?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You can do better than that.”

  “No, I’m serious—I don’t know,” Kyle said defensively. “One minute I was in an empty house, falling through the floorboards, and the next minute I was in that room. I don’t know how it happened. See, I was visiting my grandparents, and my sister and I—”

  Colonel Oliver held up a hand and said, “Spare me the details.”

  “I just wanted to explain that—”

  “I knew you wouldn’t answer directly.” Colonel Oliver leaned forward on the table. “Be sure, boy, that I’ll be keeping my eye on you. If you’re really working for the Palatians, I’ll find out about it. Even if you’re not, I’m going to find out who and what you are.”

  A jovial voice called out from the doorway, “What he is? I’ll tell you what he is, my dear colonel. He’s my guardian angel!”

  Colonel Oliver leaped to his feet and saluted.

  General Darien stepped into the car and strode briskly to the table. He patted Kyle on the back. “Don’t mind Colonel Oliver,” he said kindly. “He’s paid to be suspicious. It’s what often keeps us all alive.” Then, turning to the colonel, he said, “Thank you, Ollie.”

  Colonel Oliver understood the cue that he was expected to leave. He saluted again and, with one last glaring look at Kyle, walked over to a table at the opposite end of the car.

  “Mind if I sit down?” General Darien asked.

  “Yes . . . I mean, no. I mean, please sit down,” Kyle said.

  The general did and signaled to the waiter for a cup of coffee. “I only have a minute,” he said. “Did you sleep well? Are you rested?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “Good,” the general said and fiddled with the buttons on his uniform. Like Colonel Oliver’s, it was gray and heavily decorated with medals. “Sorry, but I can’t stand to wear this thing. Uniforms give me a rash. Give me regular shirts and trousers any day.” He smiled, and it almost seemed to Kyle that his teeth and eyes sparkled when he did. Kyle decided the general couldn’t be much older than 25. He was like the older brother Kyle always wished he’d had—or would one day be.

  The coffee arrived. General Darien dropped a splash of cream into it, then gazed at Kyle for a moment. “You don’t look like a Palatian,” he said. “And I wouldn’t guess that you’re from Marus, either.”

  “Marus? Where is Marus?” Kyle asked.

  The general looked surprised. “You’ve never heard of Marus?”

  “No, sir. Where is it?”

  “You’re riding through it, lad.” The general chuckled. “Perhaps I should be quiet and
allow you to tell me from where you’ve come. I’m curious—not suspicious, mind you, but curious.”

  Kyle drank his milk and ate a bowl of oatmeal and some toast with jam, all in the time it took to tell General Darien his story. The general asked one or two questions but didn’t say anything otherwise. When Kyle finished, the general leaned back in his chair. “That’s a remarkable story,” he said.

  “It’s true!” Kyle said. He had no doubt that his story sounded crazy. It sounded crazy even to him.

  The general rubbed his chin and told Kyle, “I’ve never heard of any of the places you say you’re from. Explaining how you got here is probably impossible. I’d suggest it’s all a dream, but you’re real enough and so am I, so that knocks that out of our consideration.” He thought for a moment. “When we have the chance, I’ll take you to the Old Judge. He’s wise about such things. Maybe he can explain it.”

  “I hope so,” Kyle said. “I’m worried about my sister. She might get lost if she tries to find her way back to my grandparents. Oh—my grandparents! They’ll be worried, too.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Kyle. We’re all in the hands of the Unseen One.” Kyle wanted to ask who the Unseen One was, but the general stood up. “Meanwhile, you’re my personal guest. It’s the least I can do for the service you did for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my officers. A boring business meeting.” He winked and smiled as he left.

  Later in the morning, Kyle came upon a group of boys in another car who were polishing boots, cleaning pistols, and shining swords. They were cadets whose sole purpose at this stage of their life was to make sure the officers were catered to. Kyle was pleased to meet up with boys his own age. The adults were polite enough, but none of them besides the general had gone out of his way to speak to him.

  The boys were extremely curious about Kyle and weren’t shy about asking him more questions than he had answers for. Once again, he told his story about how he wound up in the Palatian general’s mansion. They were silent as they listened and went about their work. Kyle couldn’t tell if they believed him or not.

  One of the boys finally said, “That’s quite a story. I hope it’s true. Otherwise you’re one of the best liars I ever met.”

  Kyle protested that he wasn’t a liar, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Why should anyone believe him?

  “Since you’ve been asking me a lot of questions, do you mind if I ask you a few?” he said.

  The boys said they didn’t mind.

  “For starters, where are we going?”

  A fair-haired boy replied, “We’re going to our capital. It’s called Sarum. General Darien is taking back his ‘prizes’”—at this the rest of the boys giggled—“from the Palatians. They’re our enemies, by the way. And then the king will let General Darien marry his daughter.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kyle said. “General Darien went into enemy territory to bring back prizes so he could marry the king’s daughter? If he’s a general, why didn’t the king just say yes?”

  The fair-haired boy smiled indulgently and answered, “You honestly don’t know anything about Marus, do you?”

  “I really don’t.”

  “Well,” the boy began, “General Darien wasn’t always a general. In fact, he wasn’t even raised to be a soldier. A couple of years ago, he was just a farm boy out in one of the crop-growing counties. But after he killed Commander Soren—”

  “Commander Soren?”

  “He was Palatia’s greatest leader,” another boy interjected.

  The fair-haired one continued. “Commander Soren and the Palatian army invaded—”

  “As usual,” the second boy said with mock boredom.

  The fair-haired one shot him an impatient look. “Anyway, they had our army cornered near Glendale. That’s a town in the southwest part of the country, near the mines. We rode past it in the middle of the night.”

  “He doesn’t want a geography lesson,” one of the other boys said, then spat on a boot to polish it.

  The fair-haired boy went on. “The story goes that Darien and his brothers had decided to enlist in the army to battle the Palatians. They arrived at Glendale just when it looked as if King Lawrence was about to surrender to Soren.

  “When Darien heard this, he was furious. He couldn’t believe that the people of Marus would ever surrender to the Palatians, under any condition. He made such a fuss about it that an officer grabbed him and dragged him in front of the king to get permission to put him to death for treason. Darien laughed at the idea. He said it was better to be put to death for treason than to become a slave to the Palatians.

  “The king was amazed at Darien’s arrogance. Darien said that the king, of all people, should know that the Unseen One would protect them and give them victory. The king called him a fanatic and said that if he was so confident about the Unseen One, maybe he should go out and do something about the Palatians himself. Darien took the dare and said that he would.

  “The whole army watched with their mouths hanging open as Darien headed straight across the battlefield. He didn’t have on a uniform, he didn’t take a pistol or a rifle—he didn’t have any protection at all.” The fair-haired boy stopped for a moment. By now, every boy in the car had put down his work and was listening.

  “Commander Soren was told by his soldiers that a boy from Marus was walking across the field. Soren was angry. He expected King Lawrence to come himself to surrender. ‘He sent me a boy?’ Soren yelled. ‘Give me my rifle. I’ll send that boy back with a message—as a corpse.’ Soren took his rifle and headed across the field toward Darien.

  “They got closer and closer to each other. Soren started to curse at Darien. Darien didn’t flinch. Then, still walking, Soren lifted up his rifle and took aim at Darien. Darien didn’t lose a step. He kept on going. Soren laughed and started to squeeze the trigger. Darien yelled, ‘To the glory of the Unseen One!’ and that made Soren angry.

  “‘I won’t shoot this pup,’ Soren said and threw down his rifle. He pulled his sword from its sheath. ‘I’ll send him back to King Lawrence in pieces!’ Meanwhile, Darien kept walking toward Soren, who raised his sword. When he was just a few feet from Soren, Darien pulled out a pocketknife—the one he whittles with. It’s a little thing; maybe he’ll show it to you sometime. Anyway, with a flick of his wrist, Darien threw that little knife at Soren. It hit him right in the heart. My father was there, and he saw the whole thing. It hit Soren in the heart, and he died right where he stood.

  “Did Darien stop and turn back? No. Darien kept right on walking, went up to the commander’s dead body, grabbed his rifle, and started firing like a madman at the Palatians. Everyone was so shocked that they didn’t have time to think. The Palatians started to run, and King Lawrence, seeing the opportunity, yelled for his men to attack. They did, and they beat the Palatians back to the border.”

  “That’s amazing,” Kyle said, wide-eyed.

  The fair-haired boy nodded. “Since then, he’s become one of our greatest generals. Ever. The whole country loves him.”

  “And it all started with just a pocketknife?”

  “A pocketknife and the power of the Unseen One,” another boy said.

  Kyle cocked an eyebrow. “So who is this Unseen One that everybody keeps talking about?”

  “Not everybody talks about the Unseen One,” the fair-haired boy answered. “We do because we believe. But once you get off this train, you won’t find very many people who believe anymore.”

  “But what is the Unseen One?” Kyle asked.

  The fair-haired boy opened his mouth to speak, but a bell suddenly rang. “The officers want us,” he said, and, quick as rabbits, the boys jumped up and raced out of the train car.

  Her wrists tied with a thick rope, Anna was led by Titus like a dog on a leash. From the palace, they weaved their way through litter-strewn alleys and passages until they emerged in a large market area. At the edge, Titus untied Anna but instantly grabbed her arm in
his big hand. “You’ll behave or suffer the consequences,” he said.

  She winced at the dazzling sunlight and felt as if her eyes were being assaulted by brighter colors than she’d ever seen before. Titus led her past booths and stalls filled with fruit, vegetables, meat, newspapers, household items, and even live animals. Men in smocks and women in aprons busied themselves with their work, while some chatted idly about the weather and the state of the economy. All had a look and clothes that reminded Anna of pictures she’d seen in her history books of the Civil War. The market smelled of animals and earth, with an occasional hint of freshly baked bread.

  Anna hadn’t eaten or slept all night. Though no rats had come to nibble on her, she hadn’t wanted to take the chance that they might. She had spent the entire night awake and hoping she’d snap out of this awful dream.

  She pleaded with Titus whenever she had the chance. She told him again and again that he was making a big mistake and even threatened him with what her parents would do if they found out he was treating her so badly. He told her repeatedly to shut up or he’d belt her. But he did let go of her arm.

  Halfway across the market, Anna tripped and fell into a puddle of mud. That made Titus angry, and he began to kick at her to get up. She easily dodged the thrusts of his short, stumpy legs. That made him even angrier.

  “Get up!” He kicked out harder and harder. She quickly evaded him. He thrust out his leg in the hardest kick of all, lost his balance, and fell into the mud with a large splat. If the situation weren’t so serious, Anna might have giggled over how silly the two of them must have looked. A crowd had gathered and did what Anna dared not: They laughed.

  “You’re going to get yours!” Titus spat, his face beet red.

  Before she could get out of reach, he roughly grabbed her arm. He climbed to his feet, not caring whether he twisted her arm this way or that to do it, and yanked her up. “I’m not sure what your value will be once I thrash you for this,” he growled, “but I don’t care anymore!”