by Alan Smale
“Caesar?”
“Leaders like you and I, we are men of cool blood. We see things as they truly are. But the rank and file bear grudges. Your legion was destroyed, and my troops are keen to avenge it. Soldiers are soldiers. And if men such as these were to be unleashed in Cahokia, that city would suffer, believe me. The slaughter and pillage would be unspeakable.” Hadrianus smiled thinly. “You know how soldiers are. They need their rewards, just as senators do. And they have been here a long time.”
Marcellinus swallowed. A threat, and not so thinly veiled. Suddenly they were back on the ground he had expected when he had walked into this fortress. After all, back in what now seemed a very distant past, Marcellinus himself had given his legionaries free rein in taking their revenge on a bunch of Iroqua captives.
“Yes, Caesar,” he said.
“Help me talk to Cahokia, Gaius Marcellinus. Help them understand what is at stake. Bravado is admirable, but the consequences of resisting Roma are not in doubt. One way or another, I will feed my legions with Cahokian corn.”
“There.”
The Praetorian pointed as the Cahokian delegation walked out of the trees, but Marcellinus had seen them already. He had almost sensed them approaching even before they broke cover.
In the lead came Tahtay, bearing the golden Aquila of the 33rd Legion in his arms. Behind him walked Sintikala and Kimimela side by side, with Kimimela holding high the white flag of parley. And in the rear came Kanuna and…Wahchintonka.
“Well,” Marcellinus said. Wahchintonka had not been included in any of their winter discussions.
Agrippa was watching his reaction with interest. “Not expecting Cahokia to send women and children to beg for mercy, Gaius Marcellinus?”
Marcellinus guarded his expression. “They are not children, Lucius Agrippa. Far from it. And I doubt that you will see any begging from them.”
Marcellinus and the others were standing on the watchtower by the Westgate. Now that gate opened, and a turma of heavy cavalry swept out, fully armed and armored. In formation, the horsemen galloped across the clearing toward the Cahokians.
Marcellinus remembered Hurit’s reaction to the monstrous four-legs. “Intimidation, Caesar?” he murmured.
The Cahokians had stopped dead when they saw thirty-two horsemen pounding toward them. Now they started walking again, Kimimela perhaps holding the white flag a little higher and walking a little closer to her mother.
The turma broke into two lines and slowed to a walk surrounding them. The Imperator smiled. “Merely an escort, Gaius Marcellinus. We must honor our guests with all due pageantry, must we not?”
—
The Cahokians marched into the Praetorium building with calm faces and raised chins. It was clear to Marcellinus that Tahtay and Kimimela were daunted but trying not to show it. They all looked dusty and tired, and he wondered how far they’d had to walk this day.
Kimimela surveyed Marcellinus quickly from top to toe, taking in the wound to his leg, the way he leaned on his stick, the bruises to his face and legs. Registering no visible emotion, she looked away. Tahtay nodded to him. Wahchintonka frowned. Sintikala and Kanuna did not acknowledge his presence.
Probably they had not even known Marcellinus still lived. Yet here he was, considerably battered and beaten but sharing the company of the Imperator. Hadrianus smiled, apparently pleased with the effect he had created.
The Cahokians ducked their heads in respect to the Imperator, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tahtay came forward and handed the Eagle of the 33rd to Marcellinus.
It felt heavy in his hands, as if it held the weight of a thousand men. It had always been the plan for Marcellinus to bring it here to present it to Hadrianus. He had not known the Cahokians would bring it anyway.
“Praetor?” said the Imperator.
Marcellinus coughed but could not dislodge the lump in his throat. No words seemed appropriate. “Imperator Hadrianus III of Roma, I return to you the Eagle of the 33rd Hesperian Legion,” he said simply, and raised it up before him.
With a clatter of boots the Praetorians all stood to attention. Kimimela jumped at the sudden sound, and even Sintikala looked around with eyes narrowed.
The Imperator bowed solemnly to the Aquila and stepped forward. “If I may?”
Now the moment had come, Marcellinus was oddly reluctant to release it. He turned the standard in his hands and looked long and hard at the eagle rampant, its gold plate chipped but still resplendent. The plaques beneath bore the “S.P.Q.R.” of the Imperium and the “XXXIII Hesperia” of the Legion. His legion. His last command. His life’s great disaster.
Marcellinus held it out.
The Imperator took the Aquila. He carried it to the doorway, where he handed it to the Praetorian centurion and muttered instructions into his ear.
Two other guards fell in on either side of the centurion. With great solemnity and a clatter of steel the trio saluted, wheeled, and marched out of the Praetorium building.
Rather forlornly, Marcellinus watched the Eagle of the 33rd depart from his life. He wished he had time to sit with closed eyes and absorb the moment.
Imperator Hadrianus returned. “Praetor Marcellinus. Perhaps you would care to make the introductions.”
“Certainly, Caesar.” Marcellinus stepped aside and half turned. “I present to you Tahtay, paramount chief of the Great City of Cahokia on the Mizipi, son of a chieftain and also a Fire Heart of the Blackfoot tribe. I present to you Sintikala, leader of the Hawk clan, chieftain and daughter of a chieftain. I present to you Kanuna, respected elder of the city. Finally, I present to you Wahchintonka, mighty warrior lieutenant, and Kimimela, who will help translate.”
Hadrianus studied each in turn as they were introduced, staring into each face. Marcellinus had the impression he was cataloging the Cahokians, taking detailed mental notes.
Tahtay looked at Marcellinus. Marcellinus looked at the Imperator.
Hadrianus said, “Tahtay, Sintikala, Kanuna, Wahchintonka, Kimimela: you represent Cahokia?”
“We do, Caesar,” Tahtay said in courteous Latin.
“Then I demand your complete and unconditional surrender. The city of Cahokia must bow to Roma immediately. It must provision us with supplies to maintain us through the winter and keep the Iroqua in check to prevent them from further harassing our legions. It must provide us with auxiliary troops for our armies. And it must provide aerial resources for the guidance and protection of our legions.”
Tahtay glanced again at Marcellinus, who stared back at him impassively. Kimimela cleared her throat, and Tahtay swiveled his head back to meet the Imperator’s eye.
“Well?” the Imperator asked Marcellinus. “They understand? You told me you had instructed them in Latin.”
“I understand perfectly,” Tahtay said. “And I regret to inform you that Cahokia cannot comply with your demands.”
Hadrianus regarded him coolly. “Oh?”
Tahtay drew himself up to his full height, which was barely an inch shorter than the Imperator’s. “I bring the greetings of the Great City of Cahokia on the Mizipi to the Imperator Hadrianus from across the sea. If your soldiers are hungry and seek our mercy, be assured we will not let them starve, for we are a kindly people and wish you no harm. However, Cahokia will not surrender, nor will we give you our corn. Although they are now allied with us, we cannot speak for the Five Tribes of the Haudenosaunee; those you must speak with separately. And our Hawks and Thunderbirds will not fly at your command. I am Tahtay of Cahokia, and I have spoken.”
Marcellinus breathed a huge inward sigh of relief. For many weeks over the winter he and Aelfric had trained Tahtay for this, teaching him the formal language he might hear from a Roman general and coaching him in some phrases he could use in response. Enopay, Sintikala, and Kimimela had provided valuable extra help. But now that it had come to the crunch, Tahtay had exceeded Marcellinus’s expectations and had looked calm and composed while doing so.
“That
is unfortunate,” Hadrianus said. “No doubt you comprehend the size of the forces that surround you. You can see the steel weapons they hold. Outside you will have admired our cavalry. We have thousands more. Your new friend Gaius Marcellinus has no doubt advised you of the strength and discipline of a well-trained Roman legion, despite the inadequacies of his own. And I have two such legions here, and most of a third just a few days south of Cahokia. You will have heard from the remains of the Ocatani how effortlessly we destroyed their defenses and took their town from them. If Cahokia opposes us, its destruction is inevitable. And then we will take what we need from you and much more besides.”
Silence fell while Tahtay regarded the Imperator with his serious brown eyes. Hadrianus had used several difficult phrases, but Marcellinus thought Tahtay could probably deduce their meaning. Kimimela also had sufficient Latin to follow along. Sintikala and Kanuna, less fluent, were standing straight and calm and waiting to see what would happen next. Wahchintonka could have understood none of it, but his eyes moved from face to face, and even he would have felt the tension in the room.
Tahtay smiled. “Caesar, you are quite welcome to try.”
They stared at each other, the Imperator of the Roman world and the boy from the Mizipian city.
Until that point Marcellinus had been surprised at nothing. Demanding Cahokia’s surrender was the Imperator’s obvious opening gambit. No sane commander fought a war if he could intimidate his opponent into submission.
But at this stage in the conversation both Marcellinus and Enopay had counseled Tahtay to compliment the Roman leader fulsomely and attempt to begin a negotiation.
Instead Tahtay had stood his ground. But looking at Hadrianus’s face, Marcellinus thought the young war chief had made the wise call. Tahtay’s simple resistance had thrown the ball back into the Imperator’s court.
Unsmiling, the Imperator said, “Your city will burn. Your people will be crushed. Your women will suffer terrible indignities. And for what?”
“We have destroyed a Roman legion before. Perhaps you have not heard.”
Marcellinus blanched. This was way off the script.
Now Hadrianus did smile, and it was not pleasant. “I have heard. But it will not happen again. Come, boy; you have Roman steel to the south of you, Roman steel to your east, and the river at your back. I already know how to mitigate the threat of your flying machines. I suggest you seek terms, and quickly.”
Tahtay looked at Marcellinus. “Now I need to understand. ‘Mitigate’? ‘Terms’?”
Marcellinus spoke in Latin so that nothing would be hidden from Hadrianus. “By ‘mitigate’ Caesar means he believes he can minimize the danger to his troops from Cahokia’s Hawks and Thunderbirds. ‘Terms’ would be the details of Cahokia’s surrender.”
Tahtay nodded and to the Imperator said, “What do you really want? How many deaths would please you?”
Kimimela closed her eyes briefly.
“Surrender and there need be no killing. Then Cahokia would become Roma’s friend. My troops need food for the winter, and in the spring they will go on, confident in your friendship and support.” The Imperator’s voice had become sardonic. “Surrender and you, Tahtay, may remain as the chief of your people and become an honored vassal. Surrender and we will be merciful.
“Resist and all this will be impossible. Thousands of Cahokians will die, and I guarantee that you, Tahtay, will be among them.”
Tahtay eyed him shrewdly. “It is not just Cahokia you would rule, but all of Hesperia?”
Hadrianus did not blink. “Yes.”
“The whole of the land is a lot for one man to chew and swallow. Even a Caesar of Roma.”
The Imperator regarded them keenly. “Tahtay, here is my offer, repeated clearly so there can be no mistake. If Cahokia yields its granaries, no Cahokian need die. Cahokia will remain a city, and my legions will go on. I will require your Hawk craft and pilots to fly them. They will be as well treated as any men in my army. Other Cahokian warriors who join Roma will enter my armies as auxiliaries and will also be treated well. Your friend Gaius Marcellinus can explain this to you in more detail, as necessary.
“Cahokia has corn, and I must feed my men. If there is gold in this country, it is Roma’s and not Cahokia’s.” He eyed Marcellinus. “They know what gold is, yes?”
“Only because I have shown it to them.”
“Nonetheless.” The Imperator addressed Tahtay again. “Most important of all, if Cahokia makes peace, Roma will seek no revenge on you for destroying the legion commanded by Gaius Marcellinus. Evidently he has forgiven you. My forgiveness is harder to come by, but you may earn it if you lay down your spears and clubs and rocks immediately and agree to become a province of Roma.
“Agree and there need be no Mourning War between Roma and Cahokia. You understand, yes? Just as Cahokia relinquished its revenge on the Haudenosaunee, Roma would relinquish its vengeance on Cahokia. Do you see?”
Marcellinus raised his eyebrows. The Imperator was very well informed.
Hadrianus continued. “This is a good offer, Tahtay of Cahokia. It is the best that you will hear. The alternative is that Roma will march on you with steel and weapons and horses and siege engines. We will crush you and rip Cahokia apart. We will take all your corn and slay all your deer, and your men and women will serve Roma by force as we spread our dominion through Nova Hesperia to the west.”
Again he turned to Marcellinus. “I trust they know what ‘slaves’ are?”
The breath caught in Marcellinus’s throat. He vividly remembered giving a speech similar to this to Sisika the day he first met her, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.
With some difficulty he turned to face the Cahokian party. Sintikala’s face was stony. Kimimela’s lips had parted, and she was frowning as if lost in thought. Tahtay, for all his studied attempts to be statesmanlike, was glaring at the Imperator. The conversation had left Kanuna behind long before, but he had picked up on the change in mood and was looking back and forth from the Imperator’s eyes to Tahtay’s. Only Wahchintonka stood stoically.
The Imperator nodded. “I see that they do. And so, Tahtay, your answer?”
Tahtay cleared his throat. “I would talk more with you, great Caesar. Cahokia has much to trade. Your needs are many, and we—”
“No trade.” The Imperator spared Marcellinus an irritated glance. “If this man has told you Roma seeks trade, he has misled you. You will surrender unconditionally or there will be war. There is no third way. Do you understand?”
Tahtay’s face was red, and his eyes narrowed. His fists opened and closed.
“Breathe,” Kimimela whispered almost imperceptibly.
“You will be sorry,” Tahtay said thickly. “Imperator Hadrianus, if you make war, we will make you sorry. We will slay your men, and we will burn them in a pit, and we will keep you alive for a very long time.”
“At least we are in agreement that I will live a long life.” The Imperator waved his hand. “Stay. Talk to one another. Discuss my offer. Think upon the death and destruction of everything you know. We will talk again later.”
Tahtay shook his head slowly.
The Imperator snapped his fingers. “Agrippa, Marcellinus. Come.”
Marcellinus glanced at the Cahokians. “May I—”
“Come.” Hadrianus gestured to his Praetorian Guard, nodded in a perfunctory way to Tahtay, and strolled out of the room without another word.
The Cahokians looked at Marcellinus and past him. “Is the Imperator coming back?” Kimimela asked.
“Hotah?” Tahtay said uncertainly.
“Stay here,” Marcellinus said in Cahokian. “Let me see what I can do.”
Two Praetorians came to Marcellinus’s side. The other guards closed the door from the street the Cahokians had walked in through just a few minutes before and took up position on either side of it. Sintikala glanced around the room with narrowed eyes, her fingers flexing. Tahtay looked to Kimimela, who still
stood staring past him.
“Do nothing rash,” Marcellinus said over his shoulder as he was hustled off in Hadrianus’s wake.
—
The Imperator and Agrippa awaited Marcellinus in the peristylium. “You have trained him well,” Hadrianus said.
“Trained?”
“His confidence is impressive for one so young. Come now, do you deny you coached Tahtay for this little confrontation?”
“Tahtay is a remarkable youth,” Marcellinus said. “He has already survived more than many men twice his age. He was recently established as the paramount chief of Cahokia with almost no help from me. He requires little coaching.”
“Do not take me for a fool,” the Imperator said quietly.
Marcellinus saw the vicious amusement in Agrippa’s eyes and the anger in Hadrianus’s and quickly bowed his head. “My apologies, Caesar. Yes, I did my best to prepare Tahtay to talk with you. Hesperians negotiate differently. Often in a low sweat lodge over a pipe of tabaco. Others helped Tahtay also: Kanuna and Sintikala, whom you saw today, and a, uh, wise man of Cahokia named Enopay.”
“Yes, yes. So the boy Tahtay is not your puppet, I see. Cannot be relied on to do as you say, though it is clear you know him well.”
“Tahtay is nobody’s puppet.”
“But he is your friend? You have taught him our language, after all.”
Marcellinus saw little advantage in risking being caught out in an obvious lie. “Tahtay is one of the first friends I made in Cahokia. He was assigned to learn my language by his father, the previous war chief of Cahokia. The young learn more quickly than the old. But Tahtay cannot be relied on to follow my advice.”
“And the woman and the girl, they, too, are your friends?”
“Certainly, and Kanuna, too,” Marcellinus said as casually as he dared.
The Imperator nodded. “I quite understand how one can grow fond of such people. I myself largely grew up in Aegyptus and Germania. Two more different peoples you couldn’t hope to meet, and they each have their rough appeal.”
“Just so,” Marcellinus said.