By the time Lucius, along with his cavalry and two cohorts, made it to the camp, it was turning from twilight to dusk as the bitter cold wind picked up, biting through armor and clothes. The Wolves, as had become their habit, had integrated their camp inside the wooden walls of the meticulously erected Roman fort. Marpesia’s cousin had situated his camp further, his band of Roxolani too numerous to enclose in the Roman camp. Some of the wagons from the Wolves’ extended clan were setting up near the fort, too big to pull inside the already tight confines of the walls.
The Primus Pilus of the I Cohort called the password, earning them entrance into the gates. Lucius didn’t need to issue orders. His men knew their business. The centurions could take care of their own men. He rode toward the center of the camp, handing the silver Sogdian over to his groom. His valet had anticipated his arrival, preparing a bath. Lucius looked happily at the steaming water in the small camp bath. Flavius hadn’t allowed him the courtesy of proper hygiene as a prisoner.
Lucius let his valet help him out of his armor, then halted his valet before he stepped out of the tent. “Will you see if Marpesia would like to join me for dinner?”
The valet nodded and disappeared to carry out Lucius’s request and find his supper, allowing his commander to oil and scrape his skin before sinking into the warm water. He let its heat work out the cold and soreness of his time under Flavius’s less than hospitable care. When his groom returned, Lucius was dressed in a fresh wool tunic and trousers—another set Marpesia had given him—his black legionary tunic covering the Sarmatian woolens.
Seeing only food for one, he raised his eyebrow. “Will Marpesia be joining me?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Aella says she has already eaten.” He bowed. “Will there be anything else?”
He stared at the food on his camp table.
“Sir?” his valet asked.
“No, nothing else for tonight. Go find some wine and a fire.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Lucius stared at the food, lost in thought. He’d hoped he’d have an opportunity to apologize and fix his wrong, but it appeared that Marpesia wasn’t going to let him. He mechanically scooped the food into his mouth until his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. He downed the watered wine and stood up, looking around for his cloak. His valet had left out a heavy cloak made from the fur of a brown bear, another gift from Marpesia. His black bear cloak needed a thorough cleaning.
He stepped into the cold night, looking up at the field of stars spreading from horizon to horizon, and marched toward the section of camp where Marpesia’s wolves were quartered. Her tent was in the center. Walking through the field of tents, he stopped in front of hers. He could see movement inside, the light of their brazier creating silhouettes.
“Marpesia?” he whispered loudly enough to be heard inside, but not beyond. “Marpesia, please? Can we speak?”
He stepped back as he saw someone inside the tent walking toward him. A hand took hold of the flap and pushed it aside. His heart in this throat, he sank into himself when Aella stepped out, closing the flap behind her.
“My mistress is not feeling well and does not wish to be disturbed, Primus Princeps Centurio.” Aella sounded harsher than her face let on, her use of his full title telling him where he stood.
Lucius could see sympathy in her eyes along with a healthy dose of judgment directed at him for hurting her mistress, her lover. “Aella, please?”
Aella shook her head. Reaching out, she gripped his forearm, squeezing it. “She does not wish to entertain visitors at this time.” She said it loud enough that Marpesia could easily hear it. Aella shook her head at herself, coming to a decision, and leaned in closer to Lucius, whispering, “Perhaps tomorrow, Lucius.”
Aella let go of his arm and walked into the night on some errand for herself or her mistress. Lucius stood outside Marpesia’s tent, warring with himself on what to do next.
“Marpesia?” He heard nothing except the wind crying in his ears. He sighed. “Sleep well.”
He walked back to this tent, nodding politely at anyone who greeted him but ignoring anything more. Once he was back inside the sanctuary of his tent, he sank into his camp chair, his head falling into his hands, his elbows propping his arms up on his knees. His eyes burned as his chest constricted. A gust of wind bursting into his tent felt icy against the wet tracks running down from his eyes.
“Centurio?” called the deep voice of Pisakar.
Lucius didn’t lift his head. “What, Pisakar?”
He heard his old friend enter the tent all the way, setting a camp chair down in front of Lucius.
“Lucius?”
Lifting his head, Lucius wiped the tears off his cheeks.
Pisakar sighed, extending his legs and slouching back into the chair, the wood of the chair groaning under the giant man. “Lucius, why are you doing this? There’s nothing for you in the empire.”
“There’s nothing for me anywhere, Pisakar. Nothing but soulless demons.”
“There’s something for you here, if you’re not too stupid to take it.”
“I have nothing to offer but death. Death for monsters. Death for my enemies. Death for my friends.”
Pisakar sat up, leaning forward, and captured Lucius’s gaze. “Is that it? Is that the reason you’re doing this?” He paused, pursing his lips. “I’m not just your Legatus, am I, Lucius?”
“No, I consider you my dearest friend, Pisakar.”
“Will you mourn me when I die? When you outlive me?”
Lucius nodded, not breaking eye contact. “I’ve mourned all my friends. I still mourn them, holding them here.” He tapped his chest over his heart.
Pisakar shook his head, sighing. “You’re not afraid to bring more death to her. She’s a warrior and a chieftain of her own clan of warriors. She knows death. You’re afraid to bury her when you inevitably outlive her. You’re afraid of the pain losing her will cause you. If you’re both lucky, you’ll have to watch her grow old. She’ll fall to an enemy’s axe, or to sickness, or to time at a ripe old age. You’ll be there for all of it. Witness it, inviolate, as you witness every change of age taking her. You’ll have to bury her. Say your farewells and send her on to her gods. That’s the burden you’ll have to take on to be with her. That’s what you fear.”
Pisakar paused for a moment, looking down at his own clasped hands. He’d seen through Lucius’s excuses. “Lucius. I don’t know if you’ve watched, but since we’ve kept a merged camp with the Roxolani after we left the empire, the women and men of Marpesia’s Wolf Clan have visited many a tent of many a legionnaire. I’ve had my share of offers.”
Lucius nodded. Normally, he’d demand more discipline of his men, but this deep beyond a border he was never crossing again, he couldn’t bring himself to deny his men the affections of the free Roxolani interested in bedding the elite soldiers he led.
“I’ve seen a fair few Roxolani men and women eyeing you, sizing you up. Many like what they saw beyond your reputation. Do you know why not a one has approached you?”
Lucius shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think about it. Why?”
“I asked Aella. It’s the way of their people. They don’t mate within the clan, although they’re a newer clan formed from many peoples from the Sarmatian tribes. They seek lovers and mates outside their clan. Our men are prime candidates. Strong, elite soldiers. They won’t couple with anyone they don’t view as someone who can provide something to their clan—strong babies, strong warriors, good leaders.”
Lucius nodded. “Marpesia and Aella told me a story like this when we were in Constantinopolis.”
Pisakar smiled, giving a half chuckle. “You should be the first choice of every Roxolani woman trying to birth a strong baby. Do you know why not a one has even attempted to flirt with you?”
Lucius shook his head.
“Not a one of them will challenge their leader for the right to pursue you. When she knocked you down and then you returned the favor in that little duel, that was her testing you out as a potential mate. She marked you as hers then. She judged you her equal. When she beat you, then you put her on her ass, she proclaimed to every Roxolani that you were off limits to everyone but her.”
“I didn’t put the pieces together.” Lucius bowed his head, looking at the ground. He lifted his head, making eye contact with Pisakar. “I didn’t know…”
Pisakar shook his head, looking at Lucius sadly. “She knows who you are, Lucius. She knows what you are. She knows what a life with you might look like. She’s seen pieces of it. She’s not going into this blind and naïve. She’s far too intelligent and wise to choose you without thinking of what it means. You’re no ordinary man. And she’s an extraordinary woman. You’re robbing her of her choice. And worst of all, Lucius, you’re robbing yourself of a life other than blood and monsters. You’d deny yourself waking up every day next to her, seeing that smile on her face—the one that makes you look like some giddy young man after the first time a beautiful woman seduced him into her bed. You’d deny yourself feeling the wind in your hair as your ride next to her.”
A small smile tipped up the corners of Pisakar’s lips. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other when you’re on that Sogdian she gave you, riding next to her golden mare.” Pisakar sighed, shaking his head. “You can’t go through a life like yours avoiding inevitable pain, but you can choose to take happiness when it’s before you.”
Lucius’s chin quivered, a fresh pool of tears forming in his eyes and leaking out. He nodded.
“Have you never been truly in love, Lucius? Body and soul, achingly in love?” Pisakar leaned closer to Lucius, staring into his eyes, filling them with sympathy.
“No.”
Pisakar exhaled sharply, sounding exasperated. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought if you think that’s the truth.”
“Have you?” Lucius wiped the tears from his cheeks again. “Been in love like that?”
“Once, when I was young, long before you and I met, before I decided to leave my home.” Pisakar stood up. “Now, I’m going to return to my tent. There’s a beautiful Roxolani woman waiting for me who said she’d like to have a handsome, strong baby to take back to her Wolf Clan. I aim to oblige her.”
Pisakar reached his hand out and squeezed Lucius’s shoulder and turned to leave. Putting his hand out to push his way out of Lucius’s tent, he turned around. “Lucius? I don’t want an answer to this question, but think about this. You’ll outlive us all most likely. Me, Aella, Marpesia, everyone in this camp, Nostrer Dominus Constantius and all his whelps, all of us. You have to ask yourself—what do you want to carry forward with you for the rest of your long days? Regret at letting her ride out of your life? Or even just the possibility of one more day of pure joy with her?”
Pisakar stepped out of the tent and into the night. Lucius sighed, finding a cloth to wipe his face and nose clean. He found his bed, removing his black tunic but leaving the wool Marpesia had given him against his skin. He stared at the ceiling of his tent, Pisakar’s words running through his head on an endless loop until he finally lost his battle with sleep and succumbed to its embrace.
Lucius woke, foggy and sandy-eyed after tossing and turning all night. When he peeked out of his tent, the camp was well into its morning activity. He’d been allowed to sleep late after his ordeal. His black bear cloak had been returned to his tent; his valet had finished brushing it clean. The armor, likewise, had been polished back to its high shine.
He pulled on the black wool trousers and tunic with white stars Marpesia had given him and added the black legionary tunic over it, leaving bands of stars on the black field visible on his arms and legs. Next, he added all his armor, finishing with the black bear cloak.
Taking a deep breath, he strode from his tent and headed toward the Sarmatian tents. Rounding the corner, he nearly fell over when he saw the open ground where their tents had been set up. He stared at the unoccupied space, lost to time until he was stirred back to the world by someone speaking to him.
“Centurio, can I help you with something?”
He turned to see one of the optios standing respectfully behind him. “Where are the Wolves?”
“They packed up and left just after sunup, sir. Last I heard, they were gathering upriver with the rest of their clan to march out.”
“Fuck.”
The optio shrank back slightly. “Were we supposed to stop them?”
“No, you weren’t supposed to stop them. Damn it. Can you find my groom and have him saddle my horse?”
“Yes, Centurio.” He saluted, looking happy to be sent somewhere besides Lucius’s presence, and marched off to carry out his order.
Lucius walked briskly, nearly breaking into a low jog through the neat lines of tents back toward the center of the camp. He shoved his way into Pisakar’s tent, not bothering to announce himself.
“Shit, sorry, Pisakar.”
Pisakar wasn’t alone. Lucius turned around, facing the wall of the tent. Apparently Aella was the beautiful Roxolani wanting Pisakar to sire a child with her. Lucius had caught them mid-attempt, Aella straddling the giant Kushite, a blanket wrapped around her hips and covering them both from the waist down. They had stopped moving.
“They’re gone, Pisakar.”
“Who?”
“The Wolves…”
“They’re a free people. The reason for our alliance has ended. They’re moving out.”
“But…” Lucius sighed, his shoulders slumping and his head dropping. “Marpesia.”
“They haven’t left yet, and they won’t be moving quickly with the wagons, not through this ground,” Aella spoke up.
“It’s too late. She probably won’t even speak to me.”
“I’ve never seen her more angry,” Aella said. “You hurt her—badly.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t try, Lucius,” Pisakar added.
Lucius nodded to himself and took a deep breath, walking out of the tent. Aella was right. If she was still here, the Wolves couldn’t be far. When he got back to his tent, he found his groom holding the big silver-gray Sogdian, saddled and ready to go. Looking at the horse, he made a snap decision, darted into his tent and grabbed his helmet, strapping it on. He stepped out of the tent and leapt into the saddle, taking the reins from his groom and trotting the horse through camp. When he approached the gate nearest to where the Wolves had been last seen, he called out the password and, as soon as he cleared the gate, kicked the horse into a gallop—the cold wind biting into his face, his black crest streaming out behind him. He wanted to urge the horse to go faster, but he was already pushing it in the rough ground torn up by feet and hooves.
When he crested the hill where the Sarmatians had been reported, he pulled up on his reins, slowing the horse and allowing her to catch a breather. The camp was abuzz with activity, like a kicked over ant mound. He trotted down the hill and into the camp, a few of the Sarmatians he recognized raising a hand or calling out a greeting as he weaved his way through the chaos of people going about their tasks.
Seeing a face with a name he remembered, he rode up, and called out in Sarmatian, “Where can I find Marpesia?”
“Last I saw, she was that way, in the center, directing things.” He pointed toward the north and the mass of tents, horses, and wagons.
Lucius nodded his thanks and nudged his horse forward. When he rounded a cluster of wagons, he saw the shimmer of her armor as she stood in a small clearing. Now that he was about to face her, he had no idea what he wanted to say. He’d traded words with some of the most powerful people in the Roman Empire only to be struck wordless at the sight of the Sarmatian woman.
He slid to the ground, giving the Sogdian a pat before stepping out of her shadow to approach Marpesia.
“What do you want Primus Princeps Centurio Ferrata? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to speak with you.” Her stormy gray eyes, agate hard, bore down on him, her lips pinched and her brows furrowed.
“Marpesia, where are you going? I thought you were going to stick around a little longer.”
“I see no reason to spend more time here. We’re headed east and south to find warmer ground to ride out the rest of winter in.” Her words were short and curt.
“Don’t go. Stay.”
“Why? Give me a reason why I should?”
He thought he saw a slight softening around her eyes, although she kept her tone angular and sharp. “I don’t want you to leave.” He knew it sounded childish, and his tone didn’t help.
“Why, Lucius?” She closed the distance between them, her face still bearing her anger, but her eyes carried her vulnerability and a wary hope and question. “Tell me why I should stay.”
Lucius opened his mouth and closed it several times, the words not coming.
Shaking her head, she looked down at the ground between, then looked up, making eye contact. She spoke lowly, “I will not beg…”
“Marpesia, I… Don’t go.”
Marpesia growled in exasperation and shoved Lucius in the shoulders, knocking him back. She spun to walk away but turned back to face Lucius. “You’re a damned fool. I’m going to walk away, and you’ll never see me again.”
“Marpesia…” His knees trembled as his stomach churned.
She threw her hands up, turning around, and stalked away.
“Marpesia! Don’t…” His legs gave out as he sank to the ground onto his knees. “I love you.” He didn’t know if she’d heard the last thing he said; he barely spoke it above a whisper.
She stopped, her shoulders rising and falling as her anger permeated her lungs. She turned and took a few angry steps toward Lucius. “What did you say?”
He lowered his eyelids, took a couple steadying breaths, and opened them, staring into Marpesia’s stormy gray eyes. He switched to the Roxolani dialect he’d been learning whenever he had a moment. “Marpesia, I love you.”
He untied his helmet and tossed it to the side. Taking another deep breath, he sat back on his heels and pushed himself back to a standing position. He unclipped the black cloak given to him by the emperor Marcus Aurelius and let it fall behind him. “I love you, Marpesia.”
Next, he unbuckled his cingulum militare, dropping it, and took a step forward. He ducked his head under the baldric and dropped it along with his gladius, taking another step forward. “None of this means anything to me without you.”
He reached down and untied the knot, and stripped out the leather thong holding his lorica together. He shrugged out of his armor, letting it clatter to the grounds. “The empire, my reputation, my legion, they’ve all been taken from me, but I’ll not allow my own cowardice to take you away from me.”
A crowd gathered around them as Lucius’s voice grew stronger. A cold breeze carried an occasional murmur to his ear, but everyone was too transfixed on Lucius making a spectacle of himself for Marpesia to say much of anything. He took another couple steps toward Marpesia. The glint of a tear falling down her cheek caught his eye. Her fists flexed at her sides.
“What do you want, Lucius?” Her voice trembled.
“I want you! I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you sitting outside Constantius’s throne room. I’ve wanted you every day since, and I’ll want you every day forward. I want to love you every day until death parts us and beyond.” Stepping close enough to touch her, he sank to his knees, raising his arms toward her. “I’m begging you, Marpesia. Don’t make me live a life without you in it. I love you, and I promise I will love you from this day until I exhale my last breath.”
The hardness had disappeared from Marpesia’s face, tears falling freely from her eyes. Lucius stared up at her, his soul laid bare in his eyes. Every second she stood silent was an eternity over a bottomless chasm. He looked down, seeing her hands trembling; he reached out, his own hands unsteady, and took them in his.
“I am sorry for hurting you, for trying to take your choice away from you. I was wrong. You are a strong, powerful woman and capable of taking care of yourself.” He tried to pour every bit of earnestness into his gaze. He’d hurt her deeply, and he owed her so much more than just an apology, yet he hoped she’d accept it. “If you will let me, I’ll spend the rest of our time together making it up to you. Please. Let me stand by your side. Let us stand together.”
The apology and the physical contact as he gently squeezed her hands pushed her to her knees as she sank into his arms. Flinging hers around his neck, she cried into his tunic. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Lucius—that you loved me. That you wanted to be with me.”
He cupped her nape and brought her lips to his. At first, their kiss was tentative, but as they assured each other of the reality of what had happened, it deepened until the sound of cheers and whistles pulled them back from each other.
Ignoring the noise, Lucius stroked her hair and rested his forehead against hers. “I never want to be away from you. I will go where you lead. I will be your companion through good times or bad.”
Marpesia pulled Lucius into a bone-crushing hug. “Lucius… You’re shaking.”
“I hadn’t noticed, but it’s a bit cold.”
“You fool of a man.” She shook her head, a chuckle in her words. Standing up, she offered him her hand. He took it and stood. She wound her fingers through his and walked away from the dissipating crowd. Catching the eye of someone, she called out, “Tell everyone we’re holding camp for now. Prepare for a party. I feel like celebrating.”
“Aye, Marpesia.”
“Also…” Marpesia gestured toward Lucius’s effects strewn out on the ground. The man nodded.
Lucius, a giddy grin plastered to his face, laughed, feeling lighter than he’d felt in years. He had no idea what tomorrow held, but he knew that today he held Marpesia’s hand as she led him to her wagon, her large felt tent set up next to it. Tucked away inside the cozy confines, they stripped quickly and slid into the luxurious pile of furs and blankets and made love.
After they’d finished, as they lay naked under the blankets in each other’s, Marpesia’s mess of curls spread out over his chest, she tipped her head back, kissing his chin. “I love you, Lucius.”
“I love you too.”
A gust of wind jolted them as someone poked their head through the tent’s entrance. Aella smiled broadly. She pulled her head out of the tent, calling to someone outside with her, “I found them.” She walked in, kneeling in one corner as another cold blast hit them. Pisakar blocked out the entrance, dwarfing everyone inside. He sat next to Aella.
Pisakar nodded at Lucius. “Good. You didn’t fuck this up.”
Everyone looked around the confined space at each other until Pisakar spoke up first, “Now what, Lucius?”
Lucius sighed, looking at his friend and squeezing Marpesia’s shoulder. “Now, we pay out the men and bid the Black Legion good night.”