The pendulum marks the time

From one side to the next

Justinius clambered over the destroyed walls, horrified at the destruction around him. He was no stranger to death but the number of bodies that littered the ground in grotesque positions caused a shudder to run through him and the feeling of bile rise in his throat. He suppressed it as he ran to keep up with the cohort led by Tullus Ultimius who barked orders at the soldiers. “Quickly, quickly! The sooner we reach the king and force his surrender, the sooner you get your well-deserved riches and rest!”

Justinius frowned. His father hadn’t wanted any looting or unnecessary destruction of the city. Tullus knew that. The bridge crossing the canal loomed in front of them and Justinius could no longer avoid stepping in the blood. He felt his breath coming in quicker gasps as he lifted his gaze away from the ground. From across the bridge, the northern fort loomed, smoke pouring from it as cries rang from within. The men cheered as they saw Aquillan troops standing on the walls. Justinius spotted a figure waving from the walls and he waved back more out of surprise than anything else. The man turned around and disappeared back into the fort.

The soldiers crossed the bridge and ignored the cries of battle from within the fort. They continued on into the city and toward the Acropolis rising out of the smoke and haze in the distance.

***

Cassius pushed his way down the stairs with his fellow soldiers as the Carxandrians sprinted across the courtyard and toward the main gate. They were intent on escaping but Rufus and his guard stood in their way.“Hold them!” shouted Rufus, “Don’t let them escape!”

“Let them go.” muttered Cassius, “It's not worth it.”

The Carxandrians slammed into the small shield wall blocking the gate and a desperate shoving battle began with swords slashing and stabbing. The Aquillan gladius was better suited for the confined space than the Carxandrians' curved kopis swords. The Aquillan line could only hold out so long as sheer numbers began to overwhelm them. Soldiers fell and created gaps where the Carxandrian defenders could stream past them into the city and toward the alleyways.

Rufus stood tall in the middle, somehow standing in a sea of hacking Carxandrians. His men covered him as best they could with shields and bodies as they fell to their enemies. Rufus stabbed a man in the neck before a crowd of three tackled the consul and trampled him underfoot as they charged past. “Consul!” yelled Cassius.

Cassius leaped off the last set of steps and charged the fleeing Carxandrians, stabbing one in the back and flinging another to the ground where the man lay stunned. Rufus rose from the ground as the last of the Carxandrians passed. He had a cut across his arm and his lip was swollen and bloody but had no serious injuries. His guards were almost entirely gone, strewn about the gateway. Rufus’s eyes blazed as he stabbed out at the last Carxandrian fleeing in front of him and the man sank to his knees in front of Rufus, clinging to the consul's shield for support. A quick slash to the throat sent him toppling over. “Pursue those men running into the city!” said Rufus to the men gathering around him. “Don’t let them escape into the alleys or sewers or we will lose them forever!”

“Yes, Consul!”

“The rest of you, clear out that fort!”

The remains of the three cohorts split, some running into the city while others moved into the fort's keep. Only Cassius and a handful of men remained by the consul. Rufus limped to a bench by the remains of a makeshift fire pit created by the defenders. His leg was injured. “Consul, are you hurt?” asked Cassius.

“No, I’m fine. I just twisted my ankle when I fell. They stepped on my face as well, the half-gens.”

Cassius turned to survey the carnage around them. “We did it, sir. We saw two more cohorts entering the city and heading for the Acropolis.”

“Who was leading them?”

“I’m not sure-”

“Tullus Ultimius,” filled in one of his few remaining guards, returning from the gateway. “He leads the final assault on the Acropolis.”

“Where he plans to steal all the glory, no doubt,” said Rufus, laughing sardonically.

Cassius had to pull his thoughts away from the lifeless bodies strewn about him. “If you hurry, we could help you get there as he is negotiating with the king.”

Rufus nodded slowly. “A consul should be there, yes. Give me a moment to rest and we will be on our way.”

He sat there, breathing heavily as Cassius remained as still as he could. He closed his eyes and tried to recenter himself, knowing he couldn’t relive everything he had just gone through, that he had done, until all this was over. “Where are you from?”

Cassius opened his eyes and saw Rufus was looking at him with a distant gaze. He wasn’t sure the consul was interested as much as he was trying to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’m from north of here, the fertile bowl as it's often named.”

“Ah, yes,” said Rufus. “I know it. So…your family is?”

“Sollicius, sir” said Cassius.

“Sollicius,” echoed Rufus. “I met one back in the day. What’s your father’s name?”

“Reginux Sollicius, sir.”

“Of course. I met him a long time ago. My father told me the Sollicius are an enigma of a family. Loyal to Aquilla to a fault but have an unhealthy fascination with foreigners. Who was your mother?”

“She was a Northerner, consul,” said Cassius, “From Morkrannan.”

“That explains the red in your hair,” said Rufus. “Well, I thank you for your service, and your father for sending you. It’s going to be a glorious day, you wait and see.”

Cassius had to bite his tongue. It didn’t feel like it so far. “As you say, consul.”

“I do,” said Rufus, standing up. “Well then, shall we move? I don’t want to let Tullus have too much of a head…start. What the hells?”

Cassius turned with the rest of the men and froze in his tracks. The gateway was blocked by an enormous figure, hulking in size. Its body was covered in hair and its pants, the only article of clothing, were too small. Its face protruded like a wolf’s yet contained semblances of humanity. The creature took a step forward and opened its mouth in what could only have been a smile, showing its mouth full of sharpened teeth. When it spoke, its garbled voice was still understandable. “Greetings, consul.”

***

Damianus stood at the base of the Acropolis, watching the first of the Aquillan forces arrive at its base. He was alone at the bottom of the steps, still holding his bleeding arm to his chest and standing unarmed. His only hope now was to try to convince some commander to listen to him. “I am Damianus Humilius, diplomat of Carxandria, and I would offer terms of peace to your consul!” he yelled at the soldiers as they approached.

For a moment, he feared they would simply continue and cut him down where he stood. Then a yell from within the ranks caused them to grind to a halt. A figure emerged from the midst of the soldiers, dressed in the finest armor and with a large plume atop his helmet. It was a senator, his face was recognizable, but he wasn’t sure which one it was. Damianus bowed and said, “Senator.”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” asked the senator.

“I’m afraid I do not,” said Damianus. “You appeared as neither a severe adversary or ally for me in the Senate.”

“It's because I was neither. Tullus Ultimius. So, you wish to surrender?”

“I do. I speak on behalf of Carxandria.”

Tullus moved closer to him, staring him down with an imperious gaze. “Oh, do you now?”

Damianus didn’t see the fist before it was too late. Tullus struck him in the stomach and he gasped, folding over and wheezing as he fell to his knees. Tullus continued. “And where is your king? Shouldn’t he be the one here offering the terms of surrender?”

“The…the king…” sputtered Damianus, trying to catch his breath.

He was kicked in the back and he fell face-first into the stone street. His broken nose bled and he gasped, barely hearing Tullus’s response, “Yes, your king! That fat sniveling coward I heard runs your excuse of a city. Where is he? Must I march up all those stairs to find him myself? If I do, I might just roll him down the stairs for fun.”

“He is dead,” gasped Damianus but not loud enough to be heard over the laughter of the Aquillan soldiers who found the imagery of a fat man bouncing downstairs hilarious.

Tullus came up behind him and yanked him up by the neck. “Speak, Carxandrian! I’ve always found your pathetic groveling on the Senate floor…disgusting. ‘Please spare my city!’ Stupid. Now tell me, where is your king?!”

He shoved Damianus over and kicked at his prostrate form. Damianus felt his breath leave him again as his tailbone was struck, leaving him wracked with pain. “That is enough!”

A voice came from the crowd of soldiers and a familiar figure emerged. It was Horatius’s half-gen son, Justinius. Hope filled Damianus as he forced his body to rise. Justinius was reasonable. He felt a hand grip his uninjured arm as Justinius helped him to his feet. “Here, allow me.”

“You are not in charge here, half-gen,” said Tullus. “I don’t appreciate you coddling the enemy. One might begin to question your allegiances.”

Justinius grew red in the face but turned to face Tullus. “I was not aware you became consul and commander of this army, senator,” he responded. “He has offered to surrender, let us hear what he has to say.”

“He doesn’t have the authority to surrender,” said Tullus. “Only his king does.”

“Or a representative who speaks on his behalf,” said Damianus, catching his breath. “The king is dead. So is his son. I speak for the city now as chief diplomat.”

A silence filled the air as Justinius stared at him, astonished. “What? He’s dead?”

“He’s lying,” said Tullus. “That fat coward is likely hiding on top of that acropolis.”

“His body is on the rocks on the north side,” said Damianus. “His son is halfway up the steps, lying in his own blood and the blood of the innocents he ordered killed.”

Justinius turned to Tullus. “I believe him. Why would he lie?”

“First line, check the steps,” shouted Tullus and several men proceeded up the stairway.

Justinius took his arm and gestured to the steps. “Sit.”

“What are you doing?” asked Tullus. “If he is to negotiate, let him!”

“My father should be the one to do that,” said Justinius. He turned to the runner that came with every cohort. “Send word to Consul Honerius and have someone find Consul Ambitius. They should both be here to negotiate the peace. And hurry!”

The runner sped off to the north and Justinius helped Damianus onto the steps. Ignoring the furious glares from Tullus, he spoke in an undertone, “Have you found Lumina?”

Damianus felt his brain working slowly, pain, weariness and the horrors of the day beginning to overwhelm him. “No. I couldn’t find her.” He clung desperately to Justinius’s tunic then, staining it with the blood from his arm. “Find her, please.”

“If she is on the acropolis, she will be safe,” said Justinius. “There is only one other place I would look.”

As he stood, Damianus took his hand. “Thank you!”

Justinius’s smile quickly turned to a frown as he turned around. Damianus suddenly registered the fact that Tullus was speaking to his men. “Well, since there is no peace yet, and since you were promised loot, what do you say we continue with this battle?”

Some men cheered while most looked confused. Tullus pointed to the large, ornate buildings surrounding them across the street on either side. “These rich half-gen have left you everything you could want! Help yourselves!”

The men let out cheers and roars of delight as they sprinted toward the buildings. Justinius shouted, “No! This isn’t right! My father would not approve!”

“Ah, the half-gen. Your father is only one consul,” said Tullus. “And he isn’t here. You cannot deny the men what is rightfully theirs by conquest!”

Damianus could feel no more pain than he already did as he watched the Aquillan soldiers break down the doors of homes and begin looting the houses of the wealthy. Justinius backed up, anger written on his features but didn’t say anything else. Damianus reached for him. “Justinius. My sister. Find her.”

He looked down and nodded. “I will.”

The young man fled down the street alone. It was foolishness or bravery to do so in a city that was in complete pandemonium, but Damianus felt a warmth toward him. His gaze flicked back to the houses around him as furniture was flung from the upper windows and balconies and men emerged with gold coins, jewels, and anything else they saw of value. Damianus closed his eyes, unable to watch any more of his city be destroyed.

***

“Stand behind us, Consul,” said Cassius, moving in front of Rufus with the few men that remained.

The creature eyed the group of men hiding behind their shields with disdain. “I was hoping for blood.”

His body tensed and Cassius yelled, “Hold together!”

The coiled body of the wolf-man sprung forward as it leapt across the courtyard, straight toward the shield line. Cassius braced himself, squinting, preparing for an impact. It never came as the creature made a flying leap over the heads of the shield wall and landed on the opposite side. Rufus was snatched up by the front and flung against the wall as the soldiers turned in alarm. They scrambled to untangle themselves from their shield wall as the jaws snapped out and latched around a man's neck, cutting off his scream.

Cassius stabbed at the creature but missed as it danced back, smashing its massive hands into another soldier and sending him toppling. A third man was picked up and hurled screaming through the air into his fellow soldiers, Cassius among them.

“Kill it,” yelled Rufus, rising from his prone position. “Kill it!”

The soldiers charged and the creatures smiled again, pulling two curved kopis swords from his side and swinging them about with a frenzied speed. The Aquillan soldiers backed up as each blow that landed on their shields nearly buckled them and those that did strike broke bones and cut through loose armor. A fourth man fell as the creature's blades lashed out, cutting off his hand then his head. A fifth lost a leg before being slashed across the throat. Cassius circled the creature, making stabbing motions but backing up before his opponent could hit back. Only five men remained and they were circling it, shields raised and waiting. The creature flicked its eyes about and, when it charged at one, the others moved in to stab, forcing it to swing at them and make them back off. Cassius landed a blow, gouging its thigh, making it howl in fury.

It leapt on a man, crushing him beneath his shield as its jaws snapped on the man's neck and twisted. Before the others could move in, it flashed with blinding speed to the man across from it, beside Cassius, and drove both swords underneath his chainmail. He flung the corpse off his swords like a ragdoll as Cassius sank his sword into its side. It howled again and swung its arm, slamming into Cassius who flew several yards and hit the wall of the fort with a crunch.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

All breath left his body and his vision swam. He fell behind a horse pen where he was hidden by a bale of hay as it crumbled onto him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t see, as his vision blurred and darkened. When he came too, the other men lay dead on the ground, mutilated beyond belief, and Rufus was being held in the air by the creature. One hand was on his neck and the other was holding his hand which still clutched his sword. “I’m so tempted,” said the creature, licking its lips, “To see if I can bite your head clean off. But I suppose I will try that another time. We need others to recognize your corpse.”

Rufus let out a gurgling sound of defiance, dropped his shield, and pulled out a knife from his belt, stabbing it into the creature's side. The monster snarled in fury and twisted Rufus’s arm that held the sword, breaking it with a snap, and thrust the blade under the chainmail and into the consul.

Cassius wanted to cry out but could still hardly breath. Rufus stopped struggling as life left his body and the monster dropped him unceremoniously to the dirt. It let out a feral howl of triumph before turning and running out the gate at blinding speed. Cassius struggled out of the hay and to his feet, falling over the gate as he crawled through the blood and dirt to his consul. “No…consul? No…”

The soldiers that emerged from the fort shortly after to investigate the sounds found Cassius cradling the body of Rufus in his arms and sobbing. The pressure of everything spilled out all at once for Cassius. He had seen the horrors of war and now monsters. The world no longer made sense to him and he had failed in his task. His consul was dead and he was no longer a boy, inexperienced in the ways of war.

***

Lumina stood at the base of the garden that led to the temple of the Cause. She watched the street as Aquillan men spilled across it, chasing Carxandrian fighters who fled into the city, all fight in them gone. Houses were being looted, their goods spilling out in the street as soldiers quarreled over the finest items. Down the road, a cart caught fire and the horses, still attached, ran screaming through the street. Smoke and cinders filled the air as it passed, illuminating the determined face of the young woman standing defiant in the face of it all.

From down the street, a party of soldiers was surrounding a senator who was laughing raucously. “Yes! Take it all! Burn what is of no use! Let it all burn!”

Senator Alexus Dignius caught sight of the temple and pointed, yelling. “Let’s burn their temple down! Maybe their ‘Cause’ will defend it!”

Laughs accompanied his statement and, as he approached, he spotted Lumina, standing alone at the temple opening, and he grinned. “Look! One more who stands defiant!”

Lumina felt her blood run cold but her resolve steeled as they approached. Her hand rested on her sword hilt, still in its scabbard. Alexus noticed this and stopped a few paces away from her. “Really? You think you can stand against my men?”

“Them and you,” said Lumina, drawing her sword, its sapphire jeweled handle flashing in the afternoon light.

Alexus laughed and eyed the sword. “That weapon is mine.” He turned to his men. “Get it for me.”

A soldier approached Lumina with his sword and shield only half raised. “Hand it over, wen-”

His sentence was cut off as her sword flashed and sliced his throat. He threw a hand up to it and toppled sideways, his eyes wide. She only glanced briefly at the first man she had ever killed. She could not dwell on it now. Her cold gaze flicked up to Alexus. “Wench!” he screeched. “Kill her!”

Two men approached, both more wary. Lumina chose the one closest to her sword arm and she dashed in, swiping his shield aside and stabbing beneath his arm into his chest. She withdrew and spun to face the next man who raised his sword. She ducked under it and stabbed through his armpit, shoving him swiftly off as he cried out and fell to the ground. She pointed her bloody sword at Alexus. “Perhaps you will try your hand against the Cause’s servant?”

“Somebody kill her!” he screamed, dancing about in the street as his guards broke ranks and charged Lumina. There were four of them against her alone. The men in front of her were unorganized though, charging recklessly at her without forming into a shield wall as they were trained to do.

She backed up from the first, deflecting his stabs and then slicing off his hand when he overstretched. She shouldered him aside and rolled off the second soldier's shield. She completed her spin by stabbing into the back of his neck and slicing through it to fling droplets of blood into a third man’s face. As he backed off, startled, she tackled the fourth by slashing at this shield, knocking it aside, and turning sideways to avoid his attack. She bashed her sword’s pommel into his face and sliced the neck as his head went back from the blow. She turned her attention back to the third man and barely jumped back to avoid his blade. He seemed to have forgotten his shield and was stabbing at her wildly. She backed up a few more steps before deflecting his sword and moving in close to thrust up under his chainmail.

She turned to face Alexus who was retreating, howling at the men around him to “Kill the wench!” More Aquillan soldiers took notice and she backed up to the entrance of the temple. Two more men attacked her and she dodged the attack of the first, stabbed the second in the armpit, and felt pain as the first sliced her side. She reared back, withdrawing her sword and slashing upward at his face. It connected and he howled, backing away and holding his sliced nose. She glanced at her side and saw the wound wasn’t too deep.

Three men this time, all moving in as a shield wall. They stabbed at her, causing her to back up into the garden. She darted swiftly around to stab over a shield when a sword struck her in the shoulder and she cried out, pulling back. They advanced again, triumphant, and broke their formation. She spun around one at the edge of the group, rolling off his shield at his side and slicing him in the back, causing him to pitch forward. The man in the middle turned to stab her and she kicked, connecting with his shield and knocked him off balance into the third behind him. She leaped forward while he was stunned and skewered his face. She withdrew and lashed out, striking the third man in the throat before he could react.

Her shoulder screamed in pain. “That one’s not small,” she groaned. She straightened as three more men approached with a crowd of five or more behind them and Alexus bringing up the rear. “Kill her!”

She readied herself, feeling out of breath and the pain in her shoulder intensifying. She was slowing down as another sword slipped through her guard and pierced her thigh. She stumbled and the man stepped forward to bring his sword down. She stabbed upward, beneath his chin, and yanked down as he fell dead. A man right behind him lashed out and she caught it on her blade. It still scratched her arm and she used what little momentum she had to spin around and slice the side of his head. His ear split but the helmet protected the rest. He screamed in pain and pulled away as a shield entered her field of vision and pummeled her. She felt her whole body leave the earth as she flew through the air and fell to the ground, gasping.

Her vision cleared and she saw him approaching. Sword raised.

“Stop!”

A figure bowled into the man and knocked the soldier off his feet. Justinius stood in front of her, hands raised. “Stop this! She is a woman! What are you doing?”

“She defied me!” screamed Alexus. “She has murdered Aquillan soldiers!”

“Murder is to attack someone unprovoked,” said Justinius. “I’d say she was within her right to fight for her life.”

“You…you dare!” yelled Alexus, his mouth frothing with spit as he got in Justinius’s face. “You disgusting half-gen! I knew you would be a Carxandrian sympathizer! A traitor to the Aquillan people!”

“I am none of those things!” said Jusitnius. “I am simply demanding what is right! Something I doubt you have ever accomplished in your entire career.”

Alexus’s eyes goggled out and he turned to the men. “Kill them both!”

Justinus drew his sword and shouted, “Stand down, all of you!”

Lumina stared at him, surprised. His voice held a power she had never heard. There was no hesitation, no fear, no timidity. He stared at the men, meeting their eyes as he spoke, “I swear to all the gods, if any of you touches her you will see the gates of the hells in that instant. And if you kill me, you will deal with the wrath of Horatius Honerius, your consul, and will see hellfire upon your execution! I am not your enemy. She is not your enemy. Leave her to me.”

His words rang with such truth that she believed every word of them. So too, it seemed, did the soldiers who were backing away, muttering among themselves. Alexus alone stood defiant. “She has spilled Aquillan blood and should be executed.”

“That will be determined by a trial,” said Justinius.

“A trial would be pointless!” laughed Alexus. “I will see it done!”

“We will see,” said Justinius. He turned to the soldiers about him. “I will see she is brought to the camp. Now be on your way. There are finer places to find wealth than here.”

They left, still muttering, out of the garden and into the city. Alexus lingered for a moment, staring at Justinius with pure hatred. He pointed his knobbly finger at Lumina. “I will see you dead. I will!” He turned to Justinius. “And you! I’ll see you never sit on the Senate again! That you are excised from our society like the festering boil that you are!”

He threw curses as he left the garden but Justinius’s stern gaze followed him the whole way, unflinching, and Alexus soon had to turn away from that gaze. He vanished into the city.

Justinius turned to Lumina, his face filled with determination. “Can you stand?”

“If you help me,” she said, sheathing her sword.

He helped her up, putting her arm around his neck. “Justinius,” she continued. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Come on, let's get you out of here.”

“Where?”

“To the port. I won’t let them take you prisoner.”

***

Damianus opened his eyes as a horn sounded. He had sought to ignore the sounds of chaos around him as much as possible, floating in a cloud of pain and misery. But the horn meant something was finally happening.

He stood slowly and looked down the street to the south. The sound of marching feet accompanied the arrival of another cohort of Aquillan soldiers. This group was more professional, however, hoisting aloft the flag of Aquilla, an eagle rising from the flames bearing a sword and victory laurel. Statues of eagles wreathed in flames and the cohort number were also present and the trumpeter who led the group let out one last blast before stepping aside.

From the midst of the soldiers, Horatius Honerius rode on a horse to the front and halted in front of Damianus. “Where is your king, Humilius?”

“Dead, consul. I am the highest ranking official that is here to offer surrender.”

Horatius stared down at him from his horse. “Very well.”

He dismounted and stood before Damianus, staring him in the eye with the seriousness and calculation of a commander. “These are my terms. All high-ranking officials and nobility will be taken as prisoners back to Aquilla. Their properties and wealth not already taken will be divided among the soldiers as spoils. Your city and people will come under the control of the Aquillan Republic and will receive a governor in due course. For now, it will hold a garrison to keep it under control. The title and name of this city as well as its kings will cease to exist and become one under the Aquillan Republic. What say you to these terms?”

Damianus sighed and smiled slightly. “As we are the defeated, I say those terms are more than generous.” He proffered his hands, palms up. “I am your prisoner, Horatius Honerius.”

***

Justinius pulled Lumina through the streets toward the lakeside docks. “Where are we going?” asked Lumina.

“The docks.”

“But there is no escape that way.”

“Yes there is, there are ships out there waiting to pick up people that surrender. I will get you on a private ship.”

She didn’t say anything else until they reached the lakeside gate which was opened and abandoned of any guards. Justinius looked desperately around the docks and pulled her toward the closest ship, waving it down. “Do you have any money on you?” he asked.

“No…I left that behind.”

“I have some,” said Justinius. “Hopefully it will do.”

“For what? Justinius, wait…I can’t keep going.”

Justinius stopped, noticing how bad her wounds were for the first time along with the blood on her tunic. “Oh, gods! Sit down!”

He rushed to a nearby market stall and grabbed a bolt of cloth from it. “Here, tie your wounds with this.”

He helped her, breathing heavily as he did so, wincing with her whenever he pulled a little too hard. “Sorry. Just…hold on.”

He stood up and waved to one of the nearby war galleons patrolling the waters. It began to approach and he ran back to her. “I’m going to get you on that ship. We will promise payment to the captain to get you as far as the port of Ostium. Then, from there, you can barter passage to Mecarta.”

Lumina felt her head swimming. She had lost too much blood. “What’s…what’s in Mecarta?”

“My brother, Paulus. He will take care of you. I’ll send him a letter letting him know that you are coming. Here…”

He tied up the coins and put them into her pouch. “You can use these to buy passage.”

Lumina tried to take in what he was saying. He stood up and waved to the ship. “Captain! Justinius Honerius, you remember me?! I have another person to carry with you to Ostium on the return journey!”

As he continued talking, Lumina quickly began to think as best as her pain-induced brain could. What about her family? Her city? What would become of them? Justinius was back to her faster than she could have anticipated. Were things moving faster or was she thinking slowly? “OK, I’ve made a deal. He’s going to dock and we can-”

“Wait, Justinius. My family-”

“They will be taken care of,” he said. “My father gave his word.”

“Then…why me? Why would you get me away?”

He stared at her, incredulous, as if she were stupid. “I wanted to get you out, from the start. But you refused. Why couldn’t you just let me get you out?”

“I wasn’t going to leave my family…my city,” said Lumina. “It pains me even now to be taken from both. Besides, where would I go? How would we survive? How could you keep us, keep me safe?”

“I would find a way.”

“You cannot promise something when you have no certainty. Justinius, why are you taking on a burden that doesn’t belong to you?”

Justinius’s eyes began to water, tears glistening as he struggled to find his words. “Because…I wouldn’t leave you to Alexus’s mercies! He will attempt to try you. Have you executed. I won’t let him even get the chance at you. You deserve freedom. I won’t let you die. I-”

He broke off, the tears starting to run down his cheeks. “Do…do you not know how much I have come to care about you? To…love you?”

“Of course I do,” she said, putting a bloodstained hand to his face. “It is the same feeling I have when I think about you. But Justinius, you will be at risk too.”

“No, I won’t.” He shook his head. “He can bluster all he likes, but as long as my father is in charge, he won’t do anything.”

“Come with me.”

The request startled even herself but, as she thought more about it, she was more certain. He stared at her. “What?”

“Come with me. We can go together. Go see your brother together. Face life…together?”

Her voice began to falter as she finished. It sounded selfish when she said it. His features went through every emotion. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment. His face lit up with a smile and he flushed. But it didn’t take long for his face to fall, his expression darkened, and sorrow filled his countenance. “I…I can’t. I wish I could. But…I would be leaving everything I know behind.”

“That is what I do, right now,” she said. “I am leaving everything and everyone I have ever known. We would be the same…but no. I know it is unfair to ask.”

He stared at her. His face went through the same conflict of emotions but one stood predominant above the others. His eyes were wide and his breath came sharper. He was afraid. She smiled sadly, holding back a bitter feeling of loneliness and disappointment, and took his face in her hands. “Never mind. You will write to me, won’t you?”

“I will,” he said. “I will see you again. I promise you.”

The boat docked and the gangplank lowered as her tears rose to the surface to match his own. “Goodbye, Justinius Honerius.”

He helped her to her feet and, in front of the captain and crew, kissed her. She felt his desperate longing, his hands tight on her cheeks, and his heartbeat fast against her own. Then he released her and turned to the captain. “Take care of her! She needs bandaging and rest to recover from her wounds. Make sure she is given ample food and drink. Spare no expense. I will ensure you are paid well when you reach port."

“She will be taken care of, senator,” said the captain. “You have my word on the gods.”

Lumina sat on a crate on the deck, leaning against the railing as she stared out at the docks. Justinius, the man whom she came to care for but might never see again, was staring back at her, his arm raised in farewell. She was unsure, even at that moment, how to interpret her feelings. Disappointment. Bitterness. Sadness. Yearning. It was too difficult to hold on to any feeling in her state of pain and she released them, sinking into listlessness.

He stood on the docks till she had disappeared around the bend in the city.

***

Justinius was only vaguely aware of everything going on around him as he made his way back to the camp. The city wasn’t safe but he didn’t care. Soldiers pillaged the homes of the rich and a long line of men and women, chained together, was being led sobbing and moaning along the main street toward the southern gate. Justinius moved ahead of them, making his way through the ruins of the south gate and trying to ignore the dead all around him. The smell of blood and bowels couldn't be avoided and he sped up, gagging as he went. Even as he circled the lake on foot, occasionally running into laughing and cheering men, he couldn't break from his melancholy.

Death was all around him. Even the plants were crushed underfoot. He looked up to see the once lush fields of blue and red flowers were demolished into the mud. No beauty remained here.

He went to his tent and leaned over a water basin, dousing himself several times and ignoring his now-wet tunic. He sat in the only chair in his tent and began to think. He had done the right thing, helping her escape. But oh how he had wanted to go with her. A life of freedom, like Paulus, with a girl who loved him and he loved her. Why had he given up that chance? Something about it didn't feel right. Some inner voice had told him it was not the right thing to do. Or, perhaps, he was just afraid. There had been fear. Fear of the unknown, leaving everything behind, including all his comforts and familiarity. Now it was too late though. He had made his choice.

He sat down, thinking to himself. At least he had gotten her out alive. She was away from the grasp of Alexus and other Aquillans. Not her brothers or sister. “Sir.”

A voice from outside his tent made him start. “Yes?”

“Your father requests your presence at the funeral pyre.”

Justinius stood up, alarmed. “Pyre? What pyre? For who?”

“For the former consul, Rufus Ambitius.”

***

Justinius stood beside his father at the burning of Rufus Ambitius. It was thought that it would be best to burn him rather than transport his body to Aquilla. Justinius felt the tension in the air around him as his fellow senators and many soldiers stood around the pyre, present for his passing. The professional mourner began the dirge for Rufus, allowing him to pass into the next life. “Rufus! Rufus! Rufus! What sorrow we take at your passing! Hollow is the world at your departure! Spirits of the dead, hear our plea! In his hour of need!”

Justinius turned ever so slightly to his father, whispering, “What does this mean for Consul? Who is to take his place?”

“I would be sole consul unless another election was called. Another season of campaigning.”

“Surely there is a faster way?”

“I could pick one, but they would never accept that.”

Justinius nodded. “What does this mean?”

“It means I have lost an ally,” said Horatius. “I have lost a potential friend. But worse for this republic, we have lost the man holding both parties at a temporary truce. I fear what this will mean for the stability of the senate and our republic.”

Justinius nodded and looked back at the burning pyre and then at the faces around it. Very few showed any sorrow. There were calm, collected faces. Fear. Anger. Bitterness. Justinius felt that, if anything, at least he should feel the sorrow required for the passing of a man without the politics surrounding it.

He bowed his head, covering it with his toga, and wept, listening to the professional mourner call out the dirge in a haunting cry. “Rufus! Rufus! Rufus! Where do you depart, where we cannot follow?!”