Seize the day, p.25
Seize the Day, page 25
“What the . . .?” he sat bolt upright, his hands groping for his dagger. There was Gitte kneeling beside him with a delighted smile on his smooth face. Behind him sat another boy of the same age, the same cast of features. “That’s my brother, Davo.”
“What’re you doing here?” Marcus asked stupidly, as if it were not already obvious.
“We ran away,” the boy returned matter-of-factly; his eyes, an intense brown, focused on Marcus’ face. Then he held up a sack and said, “We brought along some food.”
“You can’t stay with us . . .” but then Marcus thought, why not? Was stealing a slave any worse than killing a priest? In any case, Gitte had saved Septimus’ life, they owed him something. “What do you want?”
“To go north with you,” came back the calm reply.
Marcus was struck by the degree of self-possession in the voice. “Why?” he asked.
“To rejoin our families.” Gitte sat straight, his hands quietly folded in his lap. In spite of the boy’s serenity there was an obvious intensity about him. Marcus glanced at the brother, and Gitte explained, “He doesn’t speak Latin.”
“How come you do?” Marcus asked.
“My first master was a Greek ship owner who spoke eight languages to transact his business.”
“And doubtless you learned all of them?” Marcus could not keep the mockery from his voice.
“No, I speak twelve,” Gitte said with quiet dignity. Marcus looked at him in some astonishment.
“Do you know the north country?” Marcus asked, seeking some useful information.
“Yes. The provinces. Moesia, Dacia, Dalmatia, Pannonia and beyond, past the Frontier, on the other side of Danuvius into the lands of the Barbarians.” The boy’s eyes sparked with some amusement. That the boy had seen it all was beyond comprehension. But Marcus was quick to realize the advantage of having all this knowledge and languages at his disposal.
He asked carefully, “What do you really want in return?”
“Safe passage back to our home, in Pannonia.” Gitte’s eyes were clear and Marcus believed him. Then Gitte anticipated his next question. “Why trust you? Because you must be a special person to gain the confidence of two such noble animals. Strong, fearless, bold and most importantly, true.” He looked toward the mountains. “Those qualities are rare . . . in those hills especially.”
Involuntarily Marcus flushed with pleasure, then remonstrated with himself for being so vain that a little praise would turn his head so easily; but he knew it was not meant as flattery.
Near evening when Septimus finally awoke a little more clearheaded, he found the three of them around a small fire. “Who are they?” he asked, and Marcus answered, “Our new guides and translators. The smaller one is Gitte and his brother is Davo who speaks Greek but not Latin.” Septimus merely nodded, accepting the situation without any questions.
Next day found them on the Roman road heading north. Marcus led on Crenah with Gitte sitting behind him. The boy was excited being on the elephant and held onto Marcus tightly. Just behind them Tantor followed with Septimus and Davo. They were slowly gaining on three carts pulled by oxen. They could see the drivers looking back anxiously at the two monsters catching up to them. Desperately they prodded the slow-moving oxen forward. Finally to escape the encounter, they turned off onto a side track. They stood open mouthed at a safe distance as the two elephants passed by. Marcus waved at them while Gitte just giggled behind him.
The broad valley was narrowing; the hills were closing in on them with the mountains lined up behind, some with a cap of snow. Marcus wondered how the elephants would react to snow. He knew that Hannibal had crossed the Alps with his war elephants. Every Roman knew that.
A city of some size loomed up ahead. Beyond the walls and towers, high buildings were obvious. Marcus looked back at Septimus who merely shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your choice.” Marcus prodded Crenah and they veered off the road, descending to a river bed, crossing it at a wide, shallow part. The waters rose about the elephants’ shoulders as Gitte made nervous noises from behind.
“It’s all right,” Marcus tried to reassure him, “the elephants can swim.”
“But I cannot,” Gitte admitted anxiously.
“It’ll not come to that. But if it does, just relax and I’ll pull you over.” For answer Gitte held onto him even tighter. But they crossed without getting any wetter.
On the other side, they unpacked the elephants and allowed them to roll in the grass, drying themselves. Then the animals attacked the grass while Marcus made fire and they baked bread to eat with the cheese. Septimus drank and drank water, still very thirsty from his last indulgence. Marcus shook his head and muttered, “You nearly got yourself and me killed. If it hadn’t been for Gitte.”
“Oh, he is that Gitte!” Septimus turned to the boy. “Thank you, lad. I know Dionysus demanded blood sacrifices, but I thought that was all in the past. After all we’re civilized men.”
“Only Rome is civilized,” Gitte said with light irony. Septimus cocked an eyebrow at him but did not rise to the bait.
Marcus unclasped his sword and switched the scabbard over to the right side in army style. He then practised quick draw. The sword flashed and he brandished it, point ahead, ready to stab with it. Again and again he drew, the sword alive in his hand. Septimus sharpened the point of his javelin while the two boys watched with detached curiosity.
“You know you really ought to practise defending yourselves,” Marcus said condescendingly to the brothers as he wiped his sword.
“We are not . . . undefended,” Gitte said carefully.
“Really?” Marcus asked sceptically, then took a menacing step toward him. Instantly Gitte jumped back, and suddenly Marcus was facing two wicked blades that the boy was brandishing. In a flash Davo was beside his brother with yet another blade.
“Nah, good. I see you two have been around,” Marcus conceded, “but it’s another thing to actually kill a man.”
“That it is,” Gitte said evenly, his face stone hard. That left Marcus wondering just how many had Gitte killed already? The boy was putting away his blades, then jabbered something at Davo, who relaxed and his blade also disappeared. Davo threw a contemptuous look at Marcus and said something derogatory.
“What did he say?” Marcus wanted to know.
“That he could carve you up before you even got your sword out,” Gitte translated, his eyes mocking. Marcus found himself riled. Two such smooth-faced boys daring to challenge his competence with the gladius!
“Now could he really do that? I’d like to see him try,” Marcus challenged through clenched teeth.
“Easy now,” Septimus said calmly, “we wouldn’t want to lose our guides, would we?” Marcus took a big breath and calmed himself. What did he want to prove anyway? He didn’t know, it was just that Gitte’s taunting looks provoked him.
They loaded the elephants again and got on. Gitte sat a little back from him, obviously still bothered by the recent exchange. Marcus wanted to smooth things out between them, but swallowed it; why should he care?
Traveling over broken ground was not only slower but more arduous; all the while they were jostled and tossed by the uneven motion of the animals beneath them. They had to cross innumerable ravines, climbing steeply down one side, then clambering up on the other. Marcus was soon sweating and Gitte had to hold onto him. With this exertion they soon forgot their differences.
They were well out of sight of a city as they passed it on the other side of the river. There were few farms on this side, and they did not see anybody around them. They found a path that roughly paralleled the river and made better time. Thinking himself well clear of the city, Marcus angled back toward the road, intending to rejoin it.
The elephants were astonishingly sure footed even on the loose shale, often pausing to test the ground before trusting it. They were working down a steep embankment toward the flood plain of the river. On a bare patch of clay, Crenah unexpectedly slipped, pitching her riders forward. Marcus threw himself back but Gitte was toppled. Marcus grabbed him as he slid over the side and held him, even though his arm was being pulled from its socket. He grimaced with pain as he hauled the boy back up.
“Thank you,” Gitte whispered, his face chalk white. Marcus flexed his arm, frowning at the pain. He had wrenched something, but luckily it was not his sword arm. By the river, they came across some ruins and made camp there. The animals waded into the rich river grass huffing contentedly between great mouthfuls.
A little later they passed a campsite. Marcus slid off Crenah and checked the fire pit. The mound of ash was cold and pasted down by the weather, but there were a few distinct prints about the place. Men-sized prints. Nervously, Marcus made a circle around the spot looking for some evidence that the people were friendly. Off the beaten track, they were more likely to be robbers. He chewed his lips, trying to come to some conclusion.
Crenah, who had been grazing, pulled a piece of cloth from under a bush. She sniffed at it with her trunk, her mouth turned down in distaste. She held it for Marcus’ inspection. Puzzled by the find, Marcus spread the thing out on a rock to check it. It looked to be a large kerchief worn by the women of the region, wrapping it around their head and upper body. It was torn on one side and there was a stain that could have been blood.
“What is it?” Septimus asked.
“A woman’s shawl, I think,” Marcus stated as casually as he could, not wishing to alarm the two young boys. Crenah extended her trunk to smell the object again. She too seemed puzzled. More to answer her silent query, Marcus shrugged his shoulders, tucking away the cloth in their pack. Crenah shook her head and wrinkled her face, in fair imitation of a shrug.
Catching the interplay, Septimus inquired again, “What was that?”
“I’m not sure,” Marcus acknowledged honestly. “I think she’s calculating the uncertainties.”
“The what?” Septimus asked stupidly. A thinking creature might worry about uncertainties, but not an animal.
Marcus patted the elephant’s cheeks fondly, muttering, “You’re a clever girl, you are.”
At their next rest, Marcus practised with his gladius, more determined than ever. He could feel the threat around them, in every fold of a brooding landscape. This time he intercepted no belittling, critical looks from the two boys. Meanwhile Septimus practised throwing the javelin, after which he and Marcus jabbed at each other for practise.
Marcus squinted at the mountains to the north. There were surely marauders there waiting for lone travelers just like them. He wished the boys were better armed and ready, but seeing how touchy they seemed about the topic, he thought it better not to bring it up again. Gitte and Davo had their heads together, the two brothers talking earnestly, probably calculating their chances of reaching home. Listening to the strange language, Marcus wished he knew a little more about them. But Davo did not talk and Gitte was closemouthed. If anything, he had a sardonic twist to his mouth and just thinking about it got Marcus sizzling again. Now why should that be? he wondered, scanning the path ahead.
Chapter 10
A day later, back on the road again, the four travelers met a commercial caravan coming the other way. The line of about two hundred people looked with pity and curiosity at the small party that was ready to dare the mountain passes by themselves. Now that they themselves had survived the crossing, they were willing to exaggerate the dangers.
“You’d best turn back,” the headman warned Septimus and Marcus. “Two caravans were attacked this season. One was completely wiped out. The other had to abandon its baggage to escape and still lost about a third dead and a third wounded.” The man shook his head, “There’s someone new and cunning leading them. Be very careful.”
Gitte and Davo went among the rest, talking, gleaning information.
Later, Gitte reported that the passes were all clear. There was no snow to block them, no avalanche to threaten them. Only the robbers to worry about. “There’s Thunder Rock; then God’s Anger, where the wind whistles even on good days; then Falldown Gap that is only passable in the dry season because of the rushing water that carved it; then the Sky Ladder, through the highest peaks that are stepping stones to heaven.” He left the most important to the last. “Then there is Soan. A one-eyed Bulgar who now commands all the thieves and calls himself the Mountain King. He hates gods and men alike and shows no mercy to prisoners.”
“And which language told you this?” Marcus asked. He could not get over the fact that the boy could speak twelve languages and he, Marcus, only one. He resented it. Gitte’s eyes blazed with a flash of yellow, and Marcus wondered if he had hit a nerve.
“Why, in all the languages that were spoken, I heard and understood,” Gitte said, his voice cold and condescending. “There are mountains and passes after these, but these are the highest.”
“How do you know?” Marcus persisted. “Perhaps they’re just telling you all that to scare us.” Marcus could not let go and did not know why. There was something profoundly troubling about Gitte, and it was making him unreasonably prickly with the boy. He did not like the way he was behaving, but words were out of his mouth before he was even aware of them.
“You forget,” Gitte said with infuriating coolness, “this isn’t new to us. My brother and I have been through here before.” There it was again! That smug, superior statement of fact, always a step ahead. This time Marcus swallowed his irritation, but like a worm, it was eating at the core of him. He had to remind himself that Gitte had saved Septimus, and if it wasn’t for that Marcus would now be alone, not knowing what to do with himself.
Nightfall they made camp in another ruin. After settling the animals down and eating a sparse meal, they held council to discuss the dangers they were facing. Septimus summed it up, “There are just the four of us and two elephants. Not enough to face an army of bandits by ourselves. I think we should wait here and join a caravan going north.”
“That might take some time,” Marcus voiced. To himself, he was thinking that they were escaped criminals and that it was perhaps not the best idea to invite a caravan’s suspicious scrutiny. But the mountains held graver risks. He shrugged his shoulders; the die was cast.
The next two days passed slowly. There was little grazing, and Marcus had to constantly drive the animals from one lean pasture to another. The elephants picked patiently at the grass but one could tell that they never got their fill. Thus, after two days they had to retrace their steps to find some new grass. They located a promising slope and the elephants attacked it with gusto, each time plucking a good trunkful and stuffing it into their mouths. Marcus watched their enthusiasm a little ruefully, concluding that this slope would not last them long either. “At this rate we’ll soon be back where we started,” he grumbled. He and Septimus were making new javelins to add to their arsenal. They now had four each and made a leather tube to hold them all.
Marcus got the boys to pick seed pods out of the grass and store them for the animals for later in the mountains. They had two bales of it already rolled tightly in blankets and were working the upper slopes where the animals could not go.
“I don’t know,” Marcus was shaking his head, “there’s just something wrong with those two.”
“What?” Septimus looked at him and then at the boys on the upslope. “They’re young, but . . .?”
“I can’t put my finger on it, but Gitte always acts so damn superior.”
“I haven’t noticed,” Septimus frowned. “Perhaps it’s you who feels challenged by him . . .?”
“Nonsense!” Marcus dismissed the ridiculous notion, “You have to see it, it’s so obvious.”
“Not to me,” Septimus replied. “I see only two young boys trying very hard to help and stay constructive.”
“And I’m not?”
Septimus just shook his head and got back to hardening the point of his javelin in the fire. He wanted them sharp and well-balanced.
Later, as they huddled around a small fire, Marcus prodded Gitte, trying to get some information from him. “Where do your people live?”
“Where our horses graze and our cattle and sheep lie down for the night.”
“You’re nomads? Drifting from place to place?”
“Not drifting," Gitte corrected. "Following the grass, the season and our animals. With the wind at our backs, the rain in our faces, the heat of the sun on our necks, the unending plain in our sight . . .” Gitte got a dreamy expression on his face and Marcus did not have the heart to disturb those thoughts that took the boy home to his people. Davo looked from one to the other, frowning.
Next day they had to move yet again. It was strange to see the animals balancing on steep slopes reaching for tufts of grass. At times, Marcus’ heart nearly stopped, so unbalanced they looked. Occasionally they saw mountain goats bounding from place to place. These sure-footed creatures demonstrated an amazing contrast between two lifestyles. Living in an up-and-down world, the goats were used to subsisting on marginal vegetation in a hostile climate, whereas the elephants were accustomed to an expanse of flat lands and a surfeit of feed to maintain their size. In such rugged surroundings size was a disadvantage.
Septimus thought he saw a man in the distance and quickly called them together. “Be careful! The whole band is likely to be waiting in the mountains, but they might send out a few scouts to see what’s coming. With only the four of us . . . we might be a temptation even for the few of them. From now on, we’d best mount a continuous watch.” They took turns standing guard, but saw and heard nothing more.
They were again working back along the road, looking for grass. Crenah sniffed the ground with her trunk and uttered a low warning. “Careful!” Marcus called back to the rest. Around the next corner they saw a pack of wolves, lean and swift, starved looking creatures quickly disappearing into a fold of rocks. Marcus pulled a javelin and made ready should they return. Behind him he heard Gitte draw a dagger. But nothing came of it, though the elephants remained nervous. They made a bigger fire that night and huddled close to it for protection. Firewood was a problem as there were so few trees near. Septimus took first watch, Gitte and Davo the next, and Marcus the morning watch. Quite like army days, he thought.
