Asimov's Future History Volume 2

by Isaac Asimov

  Steve sat quietly, watching Wayne. He was especially surprised when Wayne opened the leather bag he was carrying on a thong. Wayne took out a lighter and poured a small amount of lighter fluid into it. Then he gathered up the least damp of the dead leaves and twigs around them, those which had been sheltered from the constant rain and drizzle under dense bushes or overhanging rocks.

  Wayne carefully and slowly lighted a tiny, smoky fire and placed more wet kindling near it to dry off. Steve realized that in some way, Wayne had returned to the future. The rope and the leather bag could have been obtained either in Jamaica in the 1600s or here in this time, but that lighter had been manufactured many centuries in the future.

  12

  STEVE SPENT THE evening tied to the tree, fairly comfortable in the heavy furs that Vicinius and his father had provided. Wayne slowly and meticulously built up the fire and actually kept them both warm. He shared some packaged food of a familiar brand with Steve, but Steve decided not to comment on the fact that Wayne had obviously returned to their own time to get it.

  Steve could not figure out how Wayne had managed to do that. Ishihara had been instructed to grab him if he reappeared in Room F-12. Clearly, however, Wayne had returned somehow and had remained free to come back to the forest.

  Neither one of them talked. As the evening wore on, Steve grew sleepy; he had spent an active day out in the cold rain and the warmth of the fire made him drowsy. He lay down and closed his eyes, but he listened carefully for the sounds of Wayne’s occasionally placing more sticks on the fire. It hissed and sputtered from rainwater dripping from the trees above, but Wayne was still working to keep it going.

  After a while, Steve became aware that he had not heard Wayne feed the fire for some time. He opened his eyes. In the small circle of yellowish firelight, he saw that Wayne was lying down, using the leather bag as a pillow, breathing slowly. The fire had shrunk.

  Steve wriggled slowly toward the fire, carefully stopping whenever he rustled dead leaves or twigs under him. Since the ground was damp, the noises were not very loud. Wayne remained asleep and Steve was able to roll up against the glowing embers on the edge of the dying fire. With the heavy fur cloak protecting his arms, he did not hesitate to move the rope holding him up against one of the red coals.

  Soon Steve could see that the rope was slowly drying out. Then it began to darken and smolder. At the same time, the stench of singed fur also rose up from the spot.

  He turned his face away from the unpleasant smell. Otherwise, he held his position and hoped the burning fur would not awaken Wayne. However, Wayne did not stir.

  When the rope finally caught fire, it burned very fast. The loop fell away and Steve sat up promptly, away from the fire. Still careful to be quiet, he untied the free end of the rope from the tree.

  Steve wanted to reverse the situation and tie up Wayne. Holding him for Hunter would make the rest of their missions much easier. He also had to get his communicator pin back so he could contact Hunter.

  Walking carefully, he moved around the fire toward Wayne, tying a new loop in the end of the rope. Since that had worked to hold him, he knew he could hold Wayne the same way. The problem was getting it over him.

  “Hail, stranger,” said a man’s voice in German right behind him.

  Startled, Steve whirled around. Several German warriors were just barely visible in the firelight. He recognized a couple of them. They were from Vicinius’s village and were armed with spears.

  “Hail,” said Steve, uncertainly.

  Suddenly Wayne rolled over and scrambled up, grabbing his leather bag. Steve spun toward him again and threw himself at Wayne’s legs in a flying tackle, the looped rope hanging around one arm. He snagged one of Wayne’s ankles and they both went down, but Wayne kicked free and slipped away.

  Steve got up and started after him. Two steps into the brush, however, the rope caught on a tree branch, yanking his arm sharply. He came to a sudden stop.

  As Steve turned and pulled his arm free, he could hear Wayne crashing through the underbrush. He doubted he could catch up with him, and he was concerned about the German warriors. With a self-conscious grin, he looked up and shrugged.

  “Your name is Steve?” The leader of the group tapped his chest. “I have taken the name Flavius.” He nodded toward the direction Wayne had taken. “We have interrupted something. He is your enemy?”

  “Uh, yeah, he is.”

  “Shall we track him for you? He cannot have gone far.”

  Steve was tempted to accept the offer, but he was afraid these barbarians might be too rough on Wayne. All Steve wanted to do was get him into Hunter’s custody and back to their own time. “No. He’s not that important. But, uh, can you take me back to the village? I’m sort of lost.”

  Flavius turned and conferred quietly with his companions for a moment. Then he nodded to Steve. “Of course. We were on our way down the river tonight when we saw your campfire, but you are the guest of Vicinius and our chief, Odover. We will return to the village with you.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” Steve grinned with relief. “But maybe you could help me find my horse. He’s hobbled around here somewhere.”

  “Of course,” said Flavius.

  Night was just falling when Vicinius led Hunter and Gene back to the river. Before they actually left the trees for the river bank, however, Vicinius stopped.

  “I hear horses,” he said. “That means Romans are present. I do not wish to speak with them.”

  “No Roman will harm you while we are with them,” said Hunter, firmly. “I am sure of that. Also, I have heard their voices nearby. Jane is riding one of the horses we hear. We must meet her.”

  “I understand.” Vicinius gave an abrupt nod. “I am glad she is well. I will return to the village now. You can find it on your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “Farewell. I will look for you later in the village.” Vicinius slipped away into the woods.

  Hunter could not worry about him. In fact, this was good, because he did not want to cause more Roman and German contact than they had historically experienced. He nodded to Gene and started down the trail.

  Jane and a Roman officer rode into view out of the trees a moment later.

  “Hail, Jane,” said Hunter.

  She laughed. “Hail, Hunter. Good to see you. This is Marcus, a Roman tribune. Marcus, this is the rest of my party, Hunter and Gene.”

  “Hail, Tribune.”

  “I give you greeting,” said Marcus formally. “I am Marcus Gaius Aemilianus.”

  “Greetings,” said Gene.

  Jane was looking around anxiously. “Hunter, Steve isn’t with you?”

  “No,” said Hunter.

  “Something’s wrong. We left him to meet you and started back for the fort. Then I … got worried.” Jane pointedly tapped her communicator pin.

  “I understand,” said Hunter.

  “I … turned around and came back, and Marcus was good enough to follow me.” Jane shrugged helplessly.

  “She is very strong-willed,” said Marcus. “But I would not let her ride off alone. I must warn all of you, however, that the mood of the Cherusci is hostile. I suggest that we return to the safety of our camp.”

  “Thank you for your concern and dedication,” said Hunter. “We are glad that Jane is safe.”

  “Her slave was mounted. He may well have found his way back to the camp on his own.”

  “Where did you leave him?” Gene asked

  “At the riverbank, right behind us just a few yards,” said Jane.

  “What about his tracks?” Hunter asked. “He must have left tracks in the mud there.”

  “It was too dark to see them when we got here,” said Marcus. “And now we must return to camp.”

  Hunter knew that he could not argue very hard with Marcus without behaving unlike a trader from Gaul. On the other hand, he could not ignore Steve’s disappearance. He was certain that Steve must have had a surprise confrontation
with some German warriors, or possibly even some Romans. That meant that Hunter could not risk calling him on his communicator, for fear the others would overhear him.

  “Thank you, Tribune,” said Hunter. “Please take Jane and Gene back to your camp.”

  “You should come, too.” Marcus spoke with the authority of an officer accustomed to obedience.

  “I shall be fine,” said Hunter patiently. “We appreciate your concern, Tribune. Please see that Jane and Gene are safe for the night. I fully expect to rejoin all of you with Steve in the morning.”

  “How can you search in this darkness?” Marcus demanded. “With these clouds we’ve had all week, no moonlight is going to help you. Searching at night is a waste of time.”

  “We deeply appreciate your hospitality,” said Hunter. “I shall be fine.”

  “I must insist —”

  “Let’s go,” Jane said to Marcus. “Arguing with him is a waste of time. He’ll be all right.”

  “You two are much too fond of this slave,” said Marcus, shaking his head. “Come on, then.” He stretched an arm down toward Gene, to help him mount.

  Gene took his arm and tried to jump up behind Marcus. Hunter stepped forward and helped lift him all the way up. When Gene was secure, Marcus turned his mount and rode away, with Jane behind him.

  Hunter was worried about Steve, but at least he was free to stop his masquerade for the benefit of Vicinius or Marcus. He moved down the trail and magnified his vision to maximum light reception. Enough moonlight showed through the clouds for him to find his way, and he quickly found the tracks where Steve had walked his horse to the river and back. He also identified the spot where Steve had apparently fallen and been dragged into the woods.

  From there, the horse’s tracks led downstream. He followed them until they led him into forest. Under the trees, the forest was simply too dark even for Hunter’s considerable light sensitivity. Marcus was right; he could not track Steve here in the darkness.

  Hunter considered his options. He could still go to the Roman camp, arriving a little late, but it was clear from the tracks that Steve had not gone in that direction. The next morning he would be starting the search over again.

  He could also spend the night where he was and begin the search from his present location at first light. As a robot with ample energy stored, he would be safe, especially under the forest canopy. He could even shut himself down except for his emergency communicator reception.

  Hunter decided to take his final option, and return to the village of Vicinius and Odover. He had stored all of his movements around the forest in his memory, giving him a local map of any area he had seen. In such poor light, finding his way through the forest would be slow and clumsy, but in the village he could at least maintain his rapport with Vicinius. On the way, he would turn up his hearing for any sign of Steve.

  He turned to orient himself and began the hike through the forest to the village.

  Jane was very cold and tired by the time Marcus led them into the new Roman camp. It was laid out exactly like the previous one. The sound of falling axes she had heard was reflected in the new palisade wall surrounding the camp. The courtyard was lighted by torches placed around the inside of the palisade and she gratefully reined up behind Marcus and Gene at the stable. Her fur cloak had kept most of her dry, but her leggings and boots had been soaked through with rain by midday and her lower legs and feet ached with the cold. She dismounted with relief when the groom came to hold her bridle.

  “To the governor’s tent,” Marcus said abruptly. He marched quickly toward it.

  Gene grinned at Jane. “It’s been a long day.”

  She smiled weakly, nodding.

  At the entrance to the governor’s tent, a sentry saluted Marcus and drew the flap open for him. Marcus stepped inside and saluted, while Jane and Gene stopped behind him, still out in the rain.

  “Come in, Tribune,” said Governor Varus. “Are your companions with you?”

  “Yes, Governor.” Marcus moved out of the way and gestured for them to follow him.

  Jane slipped inside first and made room for Gene. The tent was lighted with four standing oil lamps, burning brightly in each corner. Governor Varus, warmly dressed in heavy woolen tunics, sat in a backless chair and sipped from a goblet of wine while Demetrius cleared the dishes from the table.

  “This is the coldest, foulest night we’ve had yet this year,” said Governor Varus, gesturing to the oil lamps. “Please warm yourselves. Demetrius, bring their meals.”

  Jane eased back her hood and shook out her hair, then held her hands near the flames. Gene joined her. Marcus moved to one of the other lamps to do the same.

  “I’m glad you caught up with us again. It wasn’t too difficult, I trust.” Governor Varus looked up at Gene. “This must be your lost friend.”

  “No, sir,” said Marcus. “This man is called Gene Titus. He is one of the lady’s party from Gaul. Gene, this is Governor Varus of this province.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Gene.

  “Good evening. Come in and get warm. You are welcome here, of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But where is your slave?” The Governor addressed Jane. “Tending the horses or something of that sort? Yesterday, he hardly left your side.”

  “He didn’t come back with us.”

  “No? What happened to him?”

  “Her slave is now lost in the forest,” said Marcus. “For her sake, I hope he is well.”

  “So, Tribune,” said Governor Varus. “Bad fortune in finding your lost friend, eh? The one you started searching for in the first place.”

  “Worse than that, sir,” said Marcus, unstrapping his helmet and pulling it off.

  “Eh?”

  “Late this afternoon we were confronted by a band of Cherusci warriors.”

  Governor Varus raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

  “Governor, I am certain that trouble is on the way,” said Marcus.

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “They had no particular business there by the river and frankly, they had nothing to say.” Marcus set his helmet down at his feet and continued warming his hands. “Foul climate,” he muttered.

  “What did they say?”

  “Virtually nothing,” said Marcus. “But they made a point of coming out of the trees to be seen.”

  Governor Varus chuckled and sipped his wine. “That hardly constitutes a rebellion, Marcus.”

  “It was a small show of force to a lone tribune out with a civilian.”

  “Or perhaps it was a chance meeting in the forest and nothing more.”

  “Some kind of trouble is brewing, sir.”

  Demetrius entered with a tray of food and began laying it out on the table.

  “Oh, I doubt it. After all, that’s rather routine.” Governor Varus held out his goblet for Demetrius to refill. “Sit down, please, all of you. Marcus, I shall listen to you as all of you warm up and enjoy your dinner.”

  13

  “MARCUS, YOU SIMPLY expect too much from these barbarians,” said Governor Varus.

  Jane and Gene took their seats. Marcus sat down last, sighing wearily. Demetrius moved behind Governor Varus and stood patiently.

  “Let’s ask our guests.” Governor Varus turned to Jane. “You saw these Germans?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did they threaten you in any way?”

  “No,” Jane said hesitantly. She was aching to warn him, to convince him of the disaster he would fall into very soon. The reason was not that she had a great liking for the Romans as a group, but simply because she was uncomfortable knowing that so many Romans would soon be walking into a trap. Now that she was actually talking to two of them, they no longer seemed like mere historical figures. Of course, she knew she could not say anything that would even hint that Marcus was right. Instead, she would have to remain as neutral as possible, so as not to influence these two Romans.

  “No. Were they
armed?”

  “They had spears,” said Jane. “That’s all I remember.” She picked up her wine goblet, as much to hide behind it as to drink from it.

  “That’s often all these barbarians have,” said Governor Varus calmly. He turned to Gene. “How about you? Did you see them?”

  “No, Governor. I had not joined them yet.”

  “I see. Then let me ask the two of you another question entirely.”

  “Of course,” said Gene.

  “Perhaps I have been too hard on my tribune,” said Governor Varus. “As I understand it, you have come here from Gaul, which means you passed through much of this province.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Gene, watching him carefully.

  Jane was glad to let him field the questions. After all, as the historian on the team, he had the best chance to pass as a real trader. She was too nervous to feel hungry, but she forced herself to eat, in order to keep busy.

  “So in your travels, how were you received?” Governor Varus asked. “You must have visited many villages of the Cherusci before you got here.”

  “We were welcomed,” said Gene. “At that time, we had a few modest gifts to present to the village elders.”

  “Ah, yes. They are sometimes like children with new playthings. Did they talk to you about us Romans?”

  “Not particularly,” said Gene. He looked at Jane innocently. “Do you recall?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  Governor Varus nodded.

  “I’m afraid I’m quite ignorant of political matters,” said Jane. She was sure that Romans of this time would accept that readily from a woman.

  “German hostility has never died,” said Marcus, looking up from his plate. “They like to buy our goods, but that’s all. I suppose they see you traders as their friends, where we soldiers will always be their enemies.”

  “Where were you stationed before you came here?” Jane asked Marcus, hoping to turn the conversation away from the German rebellion.

  “In Rome itself,” said Marcus. He caught her eye and grinned at her. “The climate is so much nicer there. Have you ever been to Rome?”