Jack Whyte - The Skystone

before stepping back and lowering my guard to dismiss them. Crestfallen and subdued, they made their way out of the yard, convinced that they would never be able to best that old whoreson Varrus. I loosened my chin-strap and pulled off my helmet, wiping my sweaty brow with the kerchief I kept tucked into my breastplate.

Caius, watching me closely, said nothing for several moments. Then,

"You looked like you were enjoying that. "

I stood on tiptoe and stretched my arms above my head, drawing a deep breath and then bending from the waist to touch my toes. "I was, " I answered, puffing slightly as I straightened up and began wiping the headband of my helmet. "I enjoy the activity. Keeps me in trim. Don't get much chance to work up a sweat nowadays. Besides, it's good for the youngsters. It lets them work off some energy, trying for a free whack at authority, and none of them ever see it as a lesson in foolhardiness. " The leather rim of my headband was dry again, and I slapped the heavy, crested weight of the helmet back onto my head, adjusting it as I continued. "Mind you, we both know, you and I, that I wouldn't dare try that trick on them after they've learned even a little more than they know now, but sneaking it in on them like this gives them a healthy respect for the people in charge of them. ''

He smiled and turned away. "Walk with me, " he said, over his shoulder. I left my things where they were and followed him. We went out through the main gates of the villa and walked in silence for almost half a mile, until the sights and sounds of the farm and its buildings had dropped out of sight behind us, screened from our view by bushes and undergrowth.

Directly ahead of us stood the only large tree on this part of the villa lands, a solitary copper beech, massive and beautiful, that seemed to owe its survival to its mere presence. It had been standing here for a very long time and no one had ever thought to cut it down. Now no one ever would. It was part of the place. Everyone referred to it simply as "the Big Tree. " Caius paced directly towards it and stopped some ten paces from the trunk, which swept straight upward for thirty or more feet to the junction of the first major bough. He gazed at the smooth, silver-grey bark and then turned to me.

"You have your dagger with you?"

I nodded. "I do. Why?"

"Balanced for throwing, isn't it?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Can you throw it from there, where you're standing, and stick it in the tree?"

I glanced at the tree, gauging the distance, visualizing the tumbling flight of the knife and then seeing the result. "Easily, " I told him, "but I'd rather not. "

"Why not?" From the way his eyebrow shot up, I saw I had surprised him.

I shrugged my shoulders, making light of the reason for my reluctance.

"Convenience, I suppose, and cleanliness... or laziness. Tree sap does strange things to the skystone dagger. It stains the blade. Doesn't damage it, but it discolours it slightly, and it's very hard to clean off, unless you do it immediately. '" I stopped, looking at him. "Why d'you want me to throw it, anyway?"

He cleared his throat and then met my eye. "I didn't, particularly. " he responded. "I was hoping you might show me how to throw it. "

"Well, of course I will, happily!" Filled with sudden pleasure, I whipped the dagger from its sheath at the small of my back, swung it up shoulder high, aiming as I did so, and flung it hard and true at the tree. It flipped end over end once and thudded home in the centre of the bole with a deep, satisfying thunk. I crossed to it, worked it free of the wood and dried the sap from the tip immediately, then took it back to show the slight discoloration to Caius.

"You see what I mean?" I held the blade angled to the light. "That doesn't happen to any other blade, at least, not to any I've noticed. But, as I said, it comes off easily enough if you wipe it immediately. Leave it to dry, however, and you've got a black stain that almost can't be removed. Here. "

I handed him the knife and he examined it closely, holding it loosely in his fingers the way he had seen me hold it prior to throwing it. I showed him the throwing grip and gave him a brief lesson in how to throw properly, with enough strength to flip the knife and hammer it home into the target. Eventually, I allowed him to try a throw, and he sank the point a good thumb-nail's depth into the trunk. We retrieved it and he did the same again five times in succession. Then we increased the distance to the tree and he had to make the required adjustments. He threw two misses, the knife clunking lengthwise against the bark, before he captured the correct weight again, and his shots were unerring from then on. When I estimated he had had enough, I retrieved the knife, dried the blade and slipped it into its sheath.

"So, " I asked him, "what made you decide you wanted to throw knives?"

Before responding, he linked his arm through mine and pulled me into motion. We moved on as he spoke, leaving the big tree behind us.

"I didn't really want to throw knives, Publius. I merely wanted to do something different. Does that make sense?"

I made a gesture of agreement, although he had me mystified. But he paid no attention to me. My reactions were not important to him at that moment. He was talking simply for the sake of talking.

"I'm restless, " he went on. "and I don't know why... " I could almost hear his thoughts churning. "I don't like the way I'm feeling, Publius... don't like feeling I haven't come to grips with my life or my own desires. Do you know what I mean? I feel I'm missing something. Do you ever feel that way?"

Conscious of the impossibility of responding intelligently to that, yet wanting to clarify what he was driving at, I said, "I don't know, Caius. Perhaps I do, from time to time, but I'm not sure if we're both talking about the same thing. What is it you're missing? Have you any idea?" He threw me a sidelong glance and then returned his eyes to the path at his feet. "Yes, I'm missing my son, for one thing. I'm not happy with his decision to follow Magnus. "

I answered him firmly on that point. "That's because you would never have decided to do that, Caius. You wouldn't have to. You're Caius Britannicus, Legate, Senator and Proconsul of Rome. But we're discussing Picus's decision. He's only a lad, and a grunt, at that, not even a centurion yet. He has to do what he's told, like any other soldier. More than likely he had no choice at all. It's pointless to fret over it, anyway, because there's nothing we can do about it. "

He kicked at a clump of grass. "Damnation, Publius, I know that. But I still don't like it. I should have kept the lad here on the Colony. "

"How? You mean you should have forbidden him the privilege of serving with the legions? Of following in the steps of his ancestors? How long has it been since the last Britannicus stayed at home and didn't serve the Empire?"

"It's never happened, you know that. "

"Then why start it now? You know the experience will be the making of the lad. "

"I know it will, of course! But what if... ?"

"What if what? Do you mean what happens if he's killed?" He answered, his voice a whisper, "Yes, I suppose I do. " I reached out and grasped him by the shoulder. "Then your name will die with you, my friend. But it won't happen. Picus won't die. He'll come home because he knows he'll be needed. There is a position waiting for him in our Colony, and his experience and skills will be important. The lads who stay here with us will learn their trade with us. They'll be good soldiers, but they'll be home grown.

Our Picus will bring back the training and experience to round them out and make real fighters of them, real Romans. "

"I suppose so. " He heaved a great, deep sigh. "I know you're right, my friend, " he said. "My intellect knows you're right, but my heart — " I cut in on his words. "What's really bothering you. General?" He stopped short, in mid stride, and looked at me. "That is, Publius. What you just said. "