Saint-Germain: Burning Shadows Part 26

Sanctu-Germainios came away from the door, walking slowly toward the Tribune. "I was appointed regional guardian by the Emperor; it is fitting that I protect those travelers bound for Roman territory who come into the region, as I did in Apulum Inferior." He straightened up, his voice purposeful. "It is my sworn duty to see to the safety and welfare of those who leave here."

Bernardius frowned. "You are a foreigner, Dom."

"To you, yes, but not to this place. My people came from these mountains to the east of this place; that was many years ago, but the ties remain," Sanctu-Germainios said, aware that it was nearly two thousand five hundred years since he had lived in these mountains, and that his people were vanished from the earth, except for him. "This place is near enough my native earth that I wish to protect it. I know a few tricks that would make taking even an empty place, as this will be, more costly than the Huns antic.i.p.ate."

"He's told me that before, in Apulum Inferior, that his people came from the eastern hook of these mountains," Mangueinic said with an emphatic nod. "He would want to defend them on his people's behalf."

"Then he is a courageous man," Neves said sincerely, then rounded on Niklos. "What about you?"

Niklos smiled, ready with his answer. "My bond-holder sent me to Sanctu-Germainios to serve him in whatever way he required for as long as he was in danger. If I'm to remain true to my mission, I'll have to stay with him. It is what Bondama Clemens would expect me to do."

The men in the warehouse faltered. "That's most honorable," said Bernardius at last. "I accept your offer, on behalf of those you brought here."

This time there was a general vociferous approval from all the men, including the few monks who stood with Priam Corydon.

"Good!" Bernardius shouted. "Then we will gather again tonight, before retiring, and discuss how we plan to proceed!"

"G.o.d bless, keep, and save you," Priam Corydon declared, making the sign of the cross.

The door was thrust open and the men hurried out of the warehouse, many of them conversing urgently as they dispersed to their posts and tasks throughout the monastery. Directly overhead, the sun glared down on them, a disk of molten metal turning the mountains to an anvil for a vast celestial smithy.

Niklos caught up with Sanctu-Germainios not far from the old chapel. "Do you really have some tricks to use against the Huns, or was that only to a.s.suage the guilt of the men who're willing to let you stay here for them at the risk of your life?" He spoke in Greek, and not so loudly that he could be easily overheard. "What would you like me to do to a.s.sist you?"

"I do have a trick or two that you and I can use, if you truly want to remain here with me," said Sanctu-Germainios. "I cannot swear that you will take no hurt for doing this: the Huns still might kill us, but that is not as easily done with you and me than it is for the rest of them."

"I can't dispute that," said Niklos, not quite laughing. "And speaking of such things, what about your companion? Will you send her away?"

"Nicoris? I hope she will consent to go with the last of the refugees from Tsapousso tomorrow. I would like to be with her when she comes to my life, but in this case, I think she will have a better chance at changing without having to fight off the Huns while doing it." His tone was light enough, but there was a somberness in his dark eyes that banished all traces of levity.

"Then what will you tell her?" Niklos asked. "If she knows you're staying, she may want to remain here as well."

"I will tell her the truth," Sanctu-Germainios answered, and opened the door to the old chapel, noticing as he did the lingering odor of fatally burned flesh. He called aloud, "It's Sanctu-Germainios and Niklos."

"Not Niklos," he corrected. "I'm off to the stable, to be sure the horses are ready to travel: hooves trimmed, teeth floated, and manes and tails braided to keep out burrs and brambles. I'll ready packs of grain for them, too, and repair any worn tack." Stepping back, he turned and strode off down the gradual slope, no trace of worry in his demeanor as he went.

Sanctu-Germainios pulled the door closed; the light from the windows in the barrel-dome was sufficient to reveal the shadowy interior of the building for eyes less able to pierce the dark than his. A quick glance around the room revealed Nicoris standing off to the side of the room next to the pallet where Monachos Anatolios lay, a ceramic cup in her hands.

She spoke without looking at him. "Dom, he has been complaining of thirst. I've tried to give him water, with three drops of the blue lotus dilution in each cup. It's helped him to sleep, and eased his pain."

"How much have you given him so far? How many cups has he drunk." Sanctu-Germainios asked as he came to her side.

"This is his fourth cup since morning Ma.s.s," she said.

He nodded. "I wouldn't give him any more until sundown-not that I think he'll wake up before then. He may need the water, but he is weak, and the blue lotus, even much diluted, can prove fatal in cases like his."

"As you wish," she said cautiously.

"Is something the matter?" He studied her face, his expression unreadable.

She did not answer at once, but continued to stare down into the cup. "They say we'll all be killed by the Huns if we don't leave."

"They've been saying that since we got here," he reminded her.

"Um. But they mean it now." She looked directly at him.

He took a moment to consider how to respond. "Given the number of people who have left here already, I would think it likely that this monastery will be abandoned by winter."

"Completely abandoned?" Her voice was small.

"Probably," he said, turning to her and taking the cup from her hands. "If you want to live, you should join one of the parties bound for Roman forts."

"I should? What about you? Are you sending me away?"

"No. But I hope you will go. I hope you will choose safety, and arrange to leave." He set the cup down next to the pitcher of water at the end of the pallet before he laid his hands on her shoulders. "The Huns will be back. There will be more of them than before, and there will be fewer defenders. For your-"

She pulled away from him, blurting out as she did, "But don't you see? I can't go! I'm a Hun! What do you think would happen if anyone found out? Do you think anyone here would let me travel in their company?" As soon as she realized what she had said, she recoiled, clapping her hand to her mouth, watching Sanctu-Germainios with fearful eyes. "I didn't . . . I don't . . ." No explanation came to her.

He regarded her tranquilly, his expression unchanged. "You have nothing to fear, Nicoris, not from me." He fell silent, waiting for what she would say next. "It is in your blood."

When she spoke again, she was incredulous, edgy, and disheartened. "You mean you know I'm-"

"-a Hun; yes, I know; I've known for some time. And I am aware that you want to keep that information secret." As her eyes widened, he went on, "I have tasted your blood, the very essence of you, and we have touched each other as deeply as anyone can touch." He saw her catch her lower lip in her teeth. "Ah, Nicoris. How could I not know you are a Hun, and recognize your desire to conceal that knowledge? It is as much a part of you as your quicksilver eyes."

Disgusted with herself for the distrust she felt, she asked him, "Have you told anyone? anyone at all?"

"Why would I do that?" His words were gentle and his dark eyes engaged all her attention; there was no hint of remonstration in any aspect of his behavior; kindness emanated from him like faint music. "You were unwilling to tell me; I know you fear what the people in this monastery might do to you, not without reason, so I have kept your confidence, as you have kept mine."

"Kept yours?" She was baffled.

"The refugees most certainly hate Huns, but they dread vampires." He took a single step toward her. "If you have not considered this, then I ask you to do so now. Each of us has a secret for the other to keep."

She turned away, her chagrin threatening to overwhelm her. "You're trying to bewilder me."

"I would not do that to you."

"Don't say that." She hunched her shoulders. "Not if you're going to send me away."

"I am not going to do that, but I do hope you will realize that you will have a better chance at living if you go than if you stay here." He sighed. "I would hate to see you throw your life away here."

"You're prepared to do that," she told him bluntly. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I intend not to die," he responded. "Niklos and I will remain here only until the Huns are on their way to this valley, and then we will leave."

"And they will pursue you," she said. "They will ride you down." Her eyes softened.

"I think not," said Sanctu-Germainios.

She swung around to face him. "You'll be chased by Huns. Huns! Don't you understand?"

"I have been chased by Egyptians and Babylonians and Hitt.i.tes and Carthaginians and Greeks and Persians and Chinese and Arabs and a.s.syrians and many, many others, all sworn to deliver me the True Death, and I am still here," he said.

"But you can die: you told me so," she said.

"Everyone, everything dies eventually." His half-smile was quickly gone.

"You're most vexing, Dom," she said, coming toward him again.

"I do not mean to be," he a.s.sured her.

"That," she said, feeling disheartened, "is most vexing of all." Before she could stop herself, she went into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, her face averted from his. "I don't want to lose you."

He stroked her hair. "You will not."

"How can you be so certain?" She wanted to believe him, but her experiences told her that it would be reckless to rely on him. "Once we are separated, we may never find each other again."

"The Blood Bond will remain as long as we . . . live our lives. While we can breathe, you will always be a part of me, and I of you."

She s.h.i.+vered in the hot afternoon, clinging to him, wanting to quiet the turbulence within her. "So you do desire me?"

"Of course," he said softly.

"Then why don't you take what you want?" She tightened her hold on him. "Why do you have to wait for me to want you?"

"It is my nature," he said. "I thought you understood that?"

She turned toward him without releasing him, and kissed him near his mouth. "Then I want you. You can waken my desires: you know that. Do it. If you aren't afraid to." This was a direct challenge, one that she expected him to answer. "If you really accept me, show me."

His gaze was enigmatic as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed, setting her down gently on the linen sheet atop his firm mattress. He sat beside her. "I want you to understand that I would accept you no matter what does or does not pa.s.s between us; I would continue to love you as you are, without your acquiescence to desire, but since you will have it so-" He leaned toward her, drawing her into a long, persuasive kiss, one that illuminated degrees of excitement she had never recognized in herself. When he finally ended the kiss, Nicoris was breathing more quickly and her face was flushed. Very slowly, Sanctu-Germainios unfastened her broad leather belt and set it aside, then lifted the hem of her palla.

This time when Nicoris s.h.i.+vered, it was in antic.i.p.ation of pleasure. "Dom . . ."

"Tell me what would please you," he whispered, working the hem upward.

"You know what pleases me," she breathed, taking his hand in hers and sliding it across her shoulders, then down to her breast; beneath the heavy linen her nipple swelled, and she s.h.i.+fted her posture so that he could remove her palla and unfasten the cotton femoralia, leaving her naked, languid in the sultry heat. "Let your hands tell me what I want."

"If that will bring you joy," he said, and lay down next to her as she stretched out. Compliant to her desire, his hands, light as murmurs, pa.s.sed over her body, imparting sweet secrets to the nape of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then moved on, his caresses still featherlight, to awaken sensations in her belly, and the cleft between her legs. Softly, persuasively, he made poetry of her flesh, delineating nuances of excitement that she had not permitted herself to feel until now. What his hands could not accomplish, his lips did, exploring, savoring, delighting in her increasing arousal. His esurience made him keenly aware of how much more ardor had been ignited within her, and he did what he could to prolong her stimulation, to bring her to new heights, to give her all the rapture she was capable of achieving.

"I'll shatter," she said quietly.

"You will have fulfillment," he promised, moving down her body, sliding up from between her legs to engage her pa.s.sion at her culmination, sharing the ecstatic pulsations that swept through and over her. His lips on her neck were as light as his fingers were, and as evocative.

As her transports faded she snuggled next to him, seeking for the first time to maintain the intimacy of their love-making. She was damp all over, and her eyes shone, their silvery color glowing like stars. As her exultation faded, the early afternoon warmth and the aftermath of her gratification made her drowsy; she felt herself drifting into sleep. "I'm not frightened anymore, Dom." She half-expected him to say, I know; when he did not, she kissed his cheek. "I guess you know already-from my blood."

He made a sound between a sigh and a chuckle. "Yes," he said, moving a little so that she could rest more comfortably.

"Will you wake me at the end of the second quarter of the afternoon?"

"If that is what you want," he said, securing her in the curve of his arm as she closed her eyes.

Text of a dispatch from Clutherus son of Einhalt, of the Third Gothic Company of Emperor Theodosios, stationed at Oescus in the Province of Moesia Inferior, to Verus Flautens, Praetor-General of Drobetae in the former Province of Dacia, written in Gothic Greek on thin wood with black paint and delivered by courier six days after being written.

To the Praetor-General of Drobetae in the old Province of Dacia, the greetings from the Captain of the Third Gothic Company of the Emperor in Constantinople, Clutherus son of Einhalt twenty days before the Autumnal Equinox: Worthy Praetor-General, I regret that the terms of our contract with Emperor Theodosios does not allow our Company to abandon our post to defend any other Roman fortress without specific orders from Constantinople. I will see that your urgent request is pa.s.sed on to our General in Constantinople, along with our prayers that it will be possible to send troops to you, for we have been told that the Huns have been active all through the summer and may continue to be so for some time to come.

You say the Emperor in the West has refused to help you with any of his Legions or hired companies, which is unfortunate; know that if it were my decision to make, I would gladly spare you fifty of my men to reinforce your soldiers.

Captain Clutherus son of Einhalt (his mark) by the hand of Patras Tullius, scribe

7.

Neves took the life-sized, straw-stuffed figure dressed in old, torn garments and attempted to lean it against the wall of the battlements. "It's going to fall," he warned Sanctu-Germainios, who, after handing up the doll, had climbed up next to him, two straight tibiae in one hand, a spear in the other. A single lamp was burning, providing wavering illumination in the pre-dawn darkness.

"Not once I pin its left hand to one of the upright logs, and the other around the shaft of a spear." Sanctu-Germainios set to work doing just that, setting each short, sharp tibia firmly in the heavy cotton, and had the satisfaction of seeing the awkward figure remain on its feet. "There."

Below them the last of this morning's departing refugees were going out through the improvised gate that had been hastily constructed where the outer wall had burned; there were twenty-four of them-men, women, and five children-with two horses carrying all the goods they were taking with them.

"How many of these things have you made?"

"Forty-two," said Sanctu-Germainios. "Nicoris and Niklos Aulirios have worked with me; I could not have finished so many on my own. We should be able to make another six of them before we run out of cloth."

"I'd lend you one of my men to help, but most of them are hopeless with needles," Neves said, watching the c.u.mbersome gate close behind the refugees. "I hope they make it to safety." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "They have a long way to go, and Aquinc.u.m may have already been razed by the Huns."

"It is a risk," Sanctu-Germainios agreed, his countenance enigmatic.

"So is remaining here." Neves sighed. "Are you sure you want your woman to go with me and my men? The Huns might move against us because we're a company of mercenaries."

"So they might, but they might move against anyone, and at least you and your men know how to fight, and there are more of you than there are men in most of the refugee companies. I also believe your company will be easier to find than some of the others when I leave here." Sanctu-Germainios patted the straw-filled figure, paying no heed to the flash of pathos in Neves' eyes. "I only wish that he and the rest of them could be made to throw spears."

Neves made himself laugh. "A wonderful notion. Perhaps you could have more made: enough to make it appear that there's still a force here to be reckoned with instead of a token presence. If there were a hundred of these, they might be enough to keep the Huns from an all-out attack for a while-long enough that you and Aulirios could get away." He clapped his hands. "How many women remain? Do any of them have cloth to spare? Will they sew for you?"

"Thirty-nine grown women are here still, and five girls," said Sanctu-Germainios. "Sixteen go tomorrow, and the day after that, the first group of monks. Eighty-one of them."

"And the rest two days later, along with Tribune Bernardius and his lieutenants-the last to leave here, but you and your comrade-the day after I take my men toward Viminacium," said Neves, chafing his hands together. "I know the schedule. I'm counting the hours until we go. Three days more, that's all. If only the Huns will hold off until then. We've chosen an hour between midnight and dawn, to slip past the scouts."

"A reasonable precaution," said Sanctu-Germainios.

"My men are being more diligent than ever, watching for scouts, and they know that the scouts are least active from midnight until dawn. My men want to get away from here without incident."

"And Bernardius' men still on guard?" Sanctu-Germainios asked. "Do they report more scouts?"

"So far they haven't said they've seen anything troubling, whether they have or not." He waved his hand at the mountains. "But where would we look, to be certain?"