Kelli Stanley - Nox Dormienda

Even in the dark cold, sweat trickled down my neck. I shivered. One thing I knew: whatever Gwyna’s role, it wasn’t the theatrical butchery of Maecenas’ throat-slitting. She wasn’t strong enough. And the rest I didn’t have time to think about.

Avitus was watching me. Bilicho couldn’t see me at all. The soldiers were angry and frightened and stiffer than Maecenas. This was supposed to be a nice mithraeum.

The beneficarius had his courtroom face on. It was time for opening arguments, and we’d better come up with a good defense-one that kept Avitus in the dark, where he was so obviously comfortable.

“These two men discovered-what is his name?”

I wanted to tell him his pretense was about as convincing as the Emperor’s hairpiece. Instead I said: “You know him, Avitus. His name is Bilicho. My medical assistant. Recently manumitted.”

It was too early for answers, and too late for too many questions, but Avitus was asking them anyway.

“He was seventy-five feet from the temple. There’s nothing else around. The fort is two miles away, and the nearest farm is even further. It was as black as Hades, and he had no torch, no lamp, no flint. Is he going to tell us what he was doing here-or are you?”

The lip of one of the soldiers was curling like a woman’s wig. There was one way out that I could see, and I hoped Bilicho would stumble through it.

I ignored Avitus, and walked close enough to feel Bilicho’s breath. One of the guards made a move, but Avitus frowned and the soldier took his hand off the pommel. The beneficarius needed me. And I needed Bilicho.

I stuck a glower on my face, and made my voice a growl. “What did you spend it on? Wine? Cockfights? Whores?”

His face asked for directions, so I showed him the door.

“You were supposed to buy supplies. And be in bed, not tramping around the countryside. So go ahead. Explain what you did with my money. Explain how stupid I was to free you. It’ll be all over town tomorrow.”

He hung his head. I thought he might be hiding a grin.

“I’m sorry, Master. Arcturus, I mean.”

I glanced at Avitus to see if he was buying yet. It wasn’t fresh, and we’d have to try harder.

“What did you do? Why are you here?”

He stooped lower. “Tavern”, he mumbled.

“Torture isn’t just for slaves, freedman. Speak up!”

“I was at the tavern,” he said loudly. One of the soldiers sneered.

“Which one?”

“The one with the big whorehouse. In the middle of town, by the market. ‘Lupo’s Place’, I think it’s called.”

“And? What were you doing? How long were you there?”

Bilicho tried to make himself smaller.

“All … all day. I spent the money.”

I looked at him, too disgusted to speak. The soldiers moved a few inches away, as if they were afraid he’d rub off.

“On what? Drink? Dice?”

He visibly brightened. “I won some money back!”

“How nice. Fortuna smiled on you. Or was that the name of the whore you screwed?”

He almost groveled. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re goddamn right it won’t. I freed you, you son-of-a-bitch.” We waited. Nobody said anything. I was improvising a forgiving master routine when Avitus interrupted me.

“How did he get here? He hasn’t answered the most important question.”

Bilicho answered as if he’d written the script. “Someone stole my purse. I’d won some, and was going to keep throwing until I had everything I started with.” He eyed me like a kicked dog. “I couldn’t go home and face”-he paused-”until I was sober and had the money.”

“Who stole your purse? And how did you come here? We’re three miles from town.”

“I’m-I’m not sure. I thought it was two men. Two native men,” he added. The soldiers looked at Avitus.

“They were watching me close when I was winning, and after they left I noticed my purse was gone. I asked someone what direction they went, and I thought I could catch them. But after I left the city, I got lost, and I-I kept hearing things. All of a sudden I saw the earth on fire. I thought it was Pluto coming for me!”

Bilicho’s superstitious terror was a nice touch. One of the legionaries chuckled.

“He can afford you better than I can. Why didn’t you explain yourself to Avitus? You know who he is.”

The floor barely held him up. “I was ashamed,” he whispered.

I stared at him for a few seconds, with what felt like a good mixture of embarrassment, contempt and pity spread across my face. I turned to the beneficarius .

“There’s your answer. I was in bed-as you know-and thought he was at home. Looks like an unhappy coincidence.”

Avitus grunted. “It looks that way.” He nodded to the soldiers. “Does he have his purse with him?”

I tried not to watch Bilicho. I hoped Avitus couldn’t see the knot in my stomach. The taller one spoke. “I searched him, sir. There was nothing.”

The beneficarius grunted again. “I guess you can go, Favonianus. We’ll both be busy tomorrow. Crenus, Arian, you escort these two home.” He threw a hard glance at me. “For their own safety. Yorko and Didicus-take the body outside and bury it. Smyrnaeus-you and I will clean.”

The escort disappointed me. We’d have to take the satire on the road, and I wasn’t up for a tour. At least we wouldn’t have to play in that particular hole again.

We climbed the steep earthen ladder. One of the men cut Bilicho’s blindfold a little too roughly. I stepped hard on his foot, and made profuse apologies.

As we walked out of the clearing, the soldiers close behind us, Bilicho started weaving toward a large oak tree. I wondered why, until he brushed against it, and gave a sudden cry.

“My purse!”

The men came running behind us. They watched as he opened it, and showed the brass coins. I clucked my tongue at him in mock disgust.

It was a long trip back. I couldn’t talk to Bilicho, so I thought I’d talk to the soldiers. The short one, a centurion named Crenus, was out. He grumbled too much, his men probably hated him, and I hoped his foot still hurt from when I’d stepped on it. That left Arian. He was tall, and wore the gear of an insignia bearer.

I said: “I haven’t seen you before.”

He met my gaze-we were about the same height.

“I was wounded last year in the night battle, when the Northerners attacked the Ninth. Nothing serious. You operated on a friend, though.”

“How is he?”

“Dead. Under your hands.”

I decided to ignore his tone. “What was his name?”

“Would you remember it?”

My hand made contact with his shoulder before I could stop it. He waited, surprised but ready, while I stood in front of him. Close in front of him.

“I may not remember the name of every man I treat, Signifer . But I damn well remember the names of the ones I couldn’t save.”

Bilicho flicked his eyes from the soldiers to me. We were on the outskirts of the city by now. Crenus had stopped grumbling for a moment.

“Lucius Cerealis. He was-”

“About to be promoted to optio . At the end of the summer campaign. He’d been looking forward to the extra pay-he was saving up for a farm in Gaul. That’s where he wanted to retire.”

“You remember-”

“Yes, I remember. Cerealis was one of the lucky ones. He was conscious for long enough to let me know where his family was.”

Exhaustion honed my anger, and I watched it slice into Arian.

“You’re not the only one in a goddamn battle. I fight like hell to save men already dead. Your friend had been cut in two with a double-bladed axe. His guts were ground sausage, and I couldn’t keep him from bleeding to death. But yes-I remember his name.”