A Gladiator Dies Only Once rsr-11

by Steven Saylor

  Mamercus marched up to us. His manner was soldierly and im-personal. "Gordianus! Quintus Sertorius has sent me to fetch you."

  Then it was the worst, I thought. Mamercus had betrayed me to Sertorius, and now Sertorius was having me arrested for trying to engineer the defection of an officer. I had known the mission would be dangerous; I should have been more cautious. Mamercus had made it clear the previous day that he had no intention of returning to Rome with me; why I had lingered in Sucro? I had tarried too long, a victim of my own sentimental sympathy for the old senator. And I had made Eco a victim, as well. He was only a boy-surely Sertorius would not lop his head off along with mine. But what would become of him after I was gone? Sertorius would probably conscript him as a foot soldier, I thought. Was that to be Eco's fate, to end his days on a battlefield, fighting for a lost cause in a foreign land? If only I had left him behind in Rome!

  I stood as bravely as I could and gestured for Eco to do the same. Mamercus and his men escorted us out of the tavern and marched us up the river road, back to the camp. The men's faces looked even grimmer under the bright morning sun. Not one of them said a word.

  The same grimness presided in the camp. Every face we saw was glum and silent. Where were the high spirits of the day before?

  We came to Sertorius's tent. Mamercus pulled back the flap and announced my name. He gestured for Eco and me to enter. He himself remained outside, as did the other soldiers.

  The commander was alone; more alone, in fact, than I realized at first. He rose from his chair eagerly, as if he had been waiting im-patiently, and strode toward us. This was not the reception I had expected.

  "Gordianus the Finder!" he said, grasping my hand. "What good fortune that you should happen to be here, on such a day! Do you know why I've summoned you?"

  "I'm beginning to think that I don't." The look on Sertorius's face was grim but not hostile. My head started to feel noticeably more secure on my shoulders.

  "Then you haven't heard the news yet?"

  "What news?"

  "Excellent! That means that word hasn't yet spread to the town. One tries to keep down the gossip and rumors when something like this happens, but it's like putting out fires in a hayfield-"

  I looked about the crowded tent, at the general's sleeping cot, the portable cabinets with maps and scrolls stacked on top, the little lamps on tripods. Something was missing…

  "Where is the white fawn?" I said.

  The color drained from his face. "Then you have heard the news?"

  "No. But if there is some crisis at hand, shouldn't your divine counselor be with you?"

  Sertorius swallowed hard. "Someone has stolen her, in the night. Someone has kidnapped the white fawn!"

  "I see. But why have you sent for me, Quintus Sertorius?"

  "Don't be coy, Finder. I know your reputation."

  "You've heard of me?"

  Sertorius managed a wry smile. "I do have some idea of what goes on in Rome, even if I haven't been there in years. I have my spies and informants there-just as Pompey and the senate no doubt have their spies in my camp. I try to keep abreast of who's taking whom to court, who's up and who's down. You might be surprised how often your name comes up. Yes, I know who you are."

  "And do you know what brought me here?" I wanted to be absolutely certain that we understood each other.

  "Yes, yes. I asked Mamercus about you yesterday. He showed me the letter. What a silly hen his grandfather is! The Sullans can have the old fellow-I have the grandson, and he's turned out to be worth any three of Pompey's officers, I'll wager! Bright, curious, clever, and wholly committed to the cause. If the powers-that-be in Rome had any sense, they'd have restored his family's estates and tried to win Mamercus over to their side, once his father was out of the way. But the Sullans always were a greedy lot of shortsighted bastards. They've driven all the best young men to Spain; all the better for me!" For just a moment he flashed the dazzling smile which had no doubt won the hearts of those bright young men. Then the smile faded. "But back to the business at hand. They call you the Finder, don't they? Well, I am a man who has lost something, and I must find it again!"

  At night, Sertorius explained, the fawn was kept in a little tent of her own, near the general's quarters. For religious reasons, the open-ing of the fawn's tent was situated to face the rising moon; it had so happened, in this particular camp, that the front of the fawn's tent faced away from most of the others, and so was not visible to Sertorius's own night watch. The tent had its own guards, however, a pair of Celts who had vied for the religious honor of protecting Diana's emissary. These two had apparently been given a powerful drug and had slept the night through. Sertorius was convinced of their tearful remorse at having failed the white fawn, but otherwise had not been able to get any useful information from them.

  I asked to see the tent. Sertorius led me there himself. Before we entered, he glanced at Eco.

  "The boy has seen death before?" he said.

  "Yes. Why do you ask?"

  "It's not a gory sight-believe me, I've seen gore! Still, it's not pretty to look at."

  He gave no further explanation, but led us into the tent. A little pen had been erected inside, with straw scattered on the ground along with pails of water and fresh grass. There was also, outside the pen, a little sleeping cot, upon which lay the girl we had seen in the general's entourage the previous day. She was dressed in the same white gown, but the white scarf was no longer around her head, so that her hair lay in a shimmering black pool around her white face. Her legs were straight and her hands were folded on her chest. She might almost have been sleeping, except for the unnatural, waxy paleness of her flesh, and the circle of bruised, chafed skin around her throat.

  "Is this how you found her?" I asked.

  "No," said Sertorius. "She was there in front of the pen, lying crumpled on the ground."

  "Who was she?"

  "Just a girl from one of the Celtic tribes. Their priests said that only a virgin should be allowed to feed and groom the white fawn. This girl volunteered. It brought great honor to her family. Her name was Liria."

  "Where is her white scarf, the one she wore around her hair?"

  "You are observant, Finder. The scarf is missing."

  "Do you think…?" I reached toward the marks on her throat. "A scarf would be one way of strangling someone."

  Sertorius nodded gravely. "She must have tried to stop them. The guards were drugged, which means that Liria should have been drugged as well; she always ate the same food. But last night she may have fasted. She did that sometimes; she claimed that the white fawn would order her to fast, to keep herself pure. When they came to take the fawn, she must have woken up, and they strangled her to keep her from crying out."

  "But why didn't they simply kill the fawn, instead of kidnapping her?"

  Sertorius sighed. "This land is crawling with superstition, Gordianus. Omens and portents are in every breath, and a man can't take a piss without some god or other looking over his shoulder. I suspect that whoever did this had no intention of murdering anyone. What they wanted, what they intended, was that the fawn should simply disappear, don't you see? As if she had fled on her own. As if Diana had abruptly deserted me to my fate. What would my Spanish soldiers make of that? Can you understand what a disaster that would be for me, Gordianus?"

  He stared at the dead girl, then tore his gaze away and paced back and forth in the small space before the pen. "The kidnappers added murder to their crime; that was sacrilege enough, though Liria wasn't really a priestess, just a girl from a humble family who happened still to be a virgin. But they would never had killed the fawn. That would have defeated their purpose. To kill the emissary of Diana would be an unforgivable atrocity. That would only strengthen the resolve of the tribes to fend off such an impious enemy. That's why I'm certain the fawn is still alive and unharmed.

  "I've tried to keep this quiet, Gordianus, but I think the rumor has already begun to spread among th
e men that the fawn is missing. The Roman soldiers will suspect the truth, I imagine, that she was kidnapped for political reasons. But the natives-the natives will think that the gods have turned against me."

  "Is their faith in the white fawn really so great?"

  "Oh, yes! That's why I've used it, as a powerful tool to bind them to me. Powerful, but dangerous; superstition can be turned against the man who uses it, you see. I should have guarded her better!"

  "Do you believe in the white fawn yourself, Sertorius? Does she speak to you?"

  He looked at me shrewdly. "I'm surprised that you even ask such a question, Gordianus. I'm a Roman general, not a credulous Spaniard. The white fawn is nothing more than a device of statecraft. Must I explain? One day my spies inform me of Pompey's movements; the next day I announce that the white fawn whispered in my ear that Pompey will be seen in a certain place at a certain time, and sure enough, he is. Whenever I learn a secret or see into the future, the knowledge comes to me from the white fawn-officially. Whenever I have to give an order that the natives find hard to stomach-such as burning one of their own villages, or putting a popular man to death- I tell them it must be done because the white fawn says so. It makes things much, much easier. And whenever things look uncertain, and the natives are on the verge of losing heart, I tell them that the white fawn has promised me a victory. They find their courage then; they rally, and they make the victory happen.

  "Do you think me blasphemous for resorting to such a device? The best generals have always done such things to shore up their men's morale. Look at Sulla! Before a battle, he always made sure his troops would catch him mumbling to a little image he stole from the oracle at Delphi; the deity invariably promised him victory. And Marius, too-he kept a Syrian wisewoman in his entourage, who could always be counted on to foresee disaster for his enemies. Too bad she failed him in the end.

  "Even Alexander pulled such tricks. Do you know the story? Once when things looked bleak before a battle, his priests called for a blood sacrifice. While the sheep was being prepared at the altar, Alexander painted the letters N I backwards on the palms of one hand, and K E on the other. The priest cut open the sheep, pulled out the steaming liver and placed it in Alexander's hands. Alexander turned it over to show his men, and sure enough, there it was, written on the liver in letters no one could mistake-the Greek word for victory!"

  "And your device was the white fawn?"

  Sertorius stopped his pacing and looked me in the eye. "Here in Spain, the local tribes, especially the Celts, have a special belief in the mystical power of white animals. A good general makes note of such beliefs. When the hunters brought Dianara to me that day-"

  "Dianara?"

  Did he look slightly embarrassed? "I call the white fawn Dianara, after the goddess. Why not? When they brought her to me, I saw at once what could be done with her. I made her my divine counselor! And the strategy has paid off handsomely. But now-"

  Sertorius began to pace again. "My scouts tell me that Metellus has joined Pompey on the other side of the Sucro. If my Spaniards find out that the fawn is missing, and I'm forced into another battle- the result could be an utter disaster. What man will fight for a general whom the gods have deserted? My only chance now is to withdraw west into the highlands, as quickly as I can. But in the meantime, the fawn must be found!" He gave me a look that was at once desperate and demanding.

  "I'm a Finder, Quintus Sertorius, not a hunter."

  "This is a kidnapping, Gordianus, not a chase. I'll pay you well. Bring Dianara back to me, and I shall reward you handsomely."

  I considered. My commission from Gaius Claudius was completed. I had verified young Mamercus's whereabouts, delivered the letter, and given him every chance to accompany me back to Rome. I was a free agent again, in a foreign land, and a powerful man was seeking my help.

  On the other hand, to aid a renegade general in the field would surely, in the view of the Roman Senate, constitute an act of treason…

  I liked Sertorius, because he was honest and brave, and in the long run, the underdog. I liked him even better when he named an actual figure as a reward.

  I agreed. If I could not return an errant young man to his grand-father, perhaps I could return a missing fawn to her master.

  Sertorius allowed me to question the two guards who had been drugged. I could only agree with his own assessment, that the men were truly remorseful for what had happened and that they had nothing useful to tell. Neither did any of the other watchmen; no one had seen or heard a thing. It was as if the moon herself had reached down to fetch the white fawn home.

  By the time Eco and I arrived back in Sucro that afternoon, the tavern was full of locals, all thirsty for wine and hungry for any news they could get of the missing white fawn. The secret was out, and rumors were flying wild. I listened attentively; one never knows when a bit of gossip may be helpful. Some said that the fawn had actually deserted Sertorius long ago (this was patently false, since I had seen the creature myself). Others claimed that the fawn had died, and that Sertorius had buried it and was only pretending that it had dis-appeared. A few said that the fawn had been stolen, but no one reported the death of the virgin. Perhaps the wildest rumor (and the most ominous) asserted that the fawn had showed up in Pompey's camp, and was now his confidant.

  None of this was very helpful. After the local crowd dispersed to their homes for the night, I asked our host what he made of it all.

  "Not a one of them knows a blasted thing! All a bunch of wind-bags." Lacro said this cheerily enough, and why not? He must have turned a nice profit on the sale of wine that day, and quite a few of the crowd had stayed on for dinner. "The only story that rang true to my ears was the one about the fawn being seen in the marshes."

  "What's this? I missed that one."

  "That's because the fellow who told it wasn't shouting his head off like the fools who had nothing to say. He was here behind the counter, talking to me. An old friend of mine; we sometimes go trapping in the marshes together. He was there early this morning. Says he caught a glimpse of something white off in the distance, in a stand of swamp trees."

  "Perhaps he saw a bird."

  "Too big for a bird, he said, and it moved like a beast, from here to there along the ground." "Did he get a closer look?"

  "He tried. But by the time he reached the trees, there was noth-ing to be seen-nothing except fresh hoof prints in the mud. The prints of a young deer, of that he was certain. And footprints, as well."

  "Footprints?"

  "Two men, he said. One on each side of the fawn."

  Eco gripped my arm and shook it. I agreed; this was very interesting. "Did your friend follow these tracks?"

  "No, he turned back and went about his business, checking his traps." Lacro raised an eyebrow. "He didn't say as much, but from the look on his face, I think he felt afraid when he saw those tracks. This is a fellow who knows the marshes like his own mother's face; knows what belongs there and what doesn't, and if something's not right. He saw those tracks and felt a bit of awe, standing where Diana's gift had passed. Mark my words, that white fawn is in the marshes."

  Eco nudged me and put his hands to his throat, miming strangulation. Lacro looked puzzled.

  I translated. "If your friend was afraid to follow those tracks, then his instincts probably are good." At least one person had already been murdered by the fawn's abductors.

  "I don't quite follow you."

  I looked at him steadily. "Yesterday, you spoke well of Sertorius… "

  "I did."

  "And you spoke with reverence about the white fawn…"

  "Diana's gift."

  "Lacro, I want to tell you a secret. Something very important."

  "So, what are you waiting for? Who can keep secrets better than an innkeeper?" He hooked his thumb and gestured to the sleeping quarters upstairs, as if alluding to all the trysts which had taken place under his roof that would never be revealed by his telling.

  "And do y
ou think this friend of yours could keep a secret, as well?" I said. "And more importantly, do you think he might agree to guide a couple of strangers into the marshes? There's likely to be some danger-but there'll be a fee in it, too. A fee for you both…"

  Before daybreak the next morning, we set out for the marshes.

  Lacro and his friend, who was called Stilensis, led the way. Eco and I followed behind.

  We came to the stand of trees where Stilensis had seen the tracks. They were still visible in the mud, picked out sharply by the first slanting rays of sunlight. We followed them. In places where the ground was too hard or too soft, the trail seemed to vanish, at least to my eyes, but our experienced guides were able to discern even the faintest traces. Occasionally even they lost the trail, and when that happened, they would patiently circle about until they found it again. Sometimes I could see how they did it, by spotting a broken twig or a crumpled leaf; at other times it seemed to me that they were guided by some hidden instinct, or simple luck. Perhaps Lacro would say that Diana showed them the way.

  They also seemed to sense, by some unknown faculty, the mo-ment when we came within earshot of our prey. At the same moment, Lacro and Stilensis both turned and gestured for us to be utterly silent.

  As for the enemy, there were only two of them, as the tracks had indicated; but the tracks had also indicated, by their size and depth, that the men making them were large fellows, with large shoes and heavy bodies. Fortunately for us, they were still asleep when we came upon them. They had no tent, and had made no fire. They slept on a bed of leaves, with light blankets to cover them.

  Lacro and Stilensis had brought their hunting bows. While they notched arrows and took aim, Eco and I yanked away the men's blankets. They woke at once, scrambled to their feet, then froze when they saw the arrows aimed at them. They cursed in some native tongue.

  Lacro asked them what they had done with the white fawn. The men grumbled and pointed toward a thick patch of bushes.

  In a little clearing, Eco and I came upon the creature. She was tied to a small tree, asleep with her legs folded beneath het. At our approach, she stirred and lifted her head. I expected her to scramble up and try to bolt away. Instead, she stared at us sleepily and blinked several times, then threw back her head and seemed to yawn. She slowly and methodically unfolded her limbs and got to her feet, then sauntered toward us and lifted her face to be nuzzled. Eco let out a gasp of delight as he stroked the back of his hand against the shimmering white fur beneath her eyes.