11

 

Anatolia

 

Jurian’s hand flashed to his bow, and before he could think, he had an arrow nocked and drawn, sighted on the giant.

“You!” he gritted. “Get away from her!”

The man spun around, holding out his hands. Jurian swallowed hard and fought back a flicker of fear. The man was even larger than he’d thought, over a foot taller than Jurian himself, and Jurian could stand shoulder to shoulder with most soldiers in the Apollinaris. Jurian couldn’t see if he carried a weapon, but his hands were massive. Jurian knew that he'd never stand a chance against a blow from one of those fists. But he edged forward anyway, circling toward Mari.

“Back away and tell me what you’ve done to her! If you laid a hand on her…” His eyes flickered to Mari, fear lodged in his throat. “Mari, wake up!”

“Peace, peace,” the man said, his voice the lowest rumble Jurian had ever heard. And then, to Jurian’s surprise, he knelt down there in the dirt and fallen leaves with his hands over his head. “I mean no harm. Not to you, not to her. I only found her like this a moment ago, and I was afraid she might be dead. If she was, I only meant to give her a proper burial.”

Sudden panic drowned his rage, and Jurian let the bowstring go slack as he rushed to Mari’s side.

“No, no,” he whispered, kneeling beside her, hands shaking as he touched her shoulder.

She stirred suddenly and twisted halfway onto her back.

“You’re back already?” she mumbled, and opened her eyes.

Jurian held up his hand just as her face blanched with terror. She bit her lip, hard, eyes wide and staring at the man behind him. She didn’t cry out, but she shuffled away from him.

“Let me deal with him, all right?” Jurian said softly. “I don’t think he’s dangerous, but I need to find out.”

She nodded and sat up, clutching her thin arms close around her. The giant, Jurian noticed, was murmuring something under his breath, his whole face etched with relief. Jurian’s mouth twitched and he scooped up his discarded bow and arrow, holding them by his side as a warning as he approached the man. The giant met Jurian’s gaze quietly.

He couldn’t have been much older than Varro, Jurian realized, though it was hard to tell past the thick length of black beard that he wore far too long to be fashionable. And his eyes—Jurian had never known someone who could look so terrible and yet so kind at the same time.

This is the sort of man, Jurian thought, who would face a lion without flinching, and bow to a child without shame.

He wore an ordinary tunic, though it was too worn and stained to be called white. The cloak slung over his shoulders was much like Jurian’s, and it didn’t quite conceal the band of leather he wore around his upper left arm. On the ground beside him he had a long staff for carrying a bundle of provisions, much like a Legionary’s sarcina.

“Are you Roman?” Jurian asked at last.

The giant sat back on his heels and squinted at him with a faint smile. “Aren’t we all Romans?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jurian said. “You said something about a burial, earlier.”

The man held his gaze and reached a thumb to his forehead, brushing it down and across in the shape of a tau. Jurian stared at him, but Mari gasped behind him and mimicked the gesture. When Jurian just stood motionless, Mari leaned forward and slapped his leg.

“Jurian! Make the signum!”

Jurian shot her a puzzled glance and did his best to imitate the motion, feeling foolish.

“Ah,” the giant said, smiling. “I thought so.”

“What do you mean, you thought so?” Jurian said. “Why won’t you answer my question?”

The man gave him a patient look. “Look, boy, are you going to put that bow down and be civil, or do you think that twig will actually work on me?”

Jurian bristled. “I’m not a boy. I’m the only man of my house.”

Not that I have a house to be man of, he thought.

The giant laughed, long and rumbling, then he sobered and cast an appraising eye over Jurian. “Remains to be seen.”

Jurian crouched in front of the giant, setting down his bow and quiver and drawing his seax.

“I’m going to ask you just once more,” he said. “Tell me who you are and what business you have in these parts.”

The man just chuckled. “Ah, yes. That’s much more impressive.” He glanced at Mari. “Can you ask him to stand down?”

“Jurian, please,” Mari pleaded. “Just—”

“You’re taking his side?” Jurian cried, gesturing at the giant with the point of his knife. “Really?”

Mari shrugged and smiled. “Jurian, he’s a fellow traveler!” She smiled, eyeing the giant from under her sweeping lashes. “And I like him.”

After a moment, Jurian shook his head and stood, sheathing the knife. He helped Mari to her feet, then turned back to the giant.

“Thank you for your concern,” Jurian said. “But we have to be on our way.”

“East or west?” the giant asked.

“What does it matter?”

The man stood and picked up his provisions. “If you’re going west, you might want to know there’s a Legion camp just ahead. I presume that’s the way you’re going, since you’re here, and you’re not wet.”

“We are going west,” Mari said promptly.

Jurian slapped his forehead in frustration. “Mari!” he cried, then frowned at the man. “What did that mean, we’re here and not wet?”

“You’re here, so you didn’t cross the bridge, and you’re not wet, so you didn’t cross the river. Means you must have come from the east. But you’re not traveling on the road, so I imagine you’d rather not meet the Legion up ahead—God knows, I don’t care to. Am I right so far?”

“Perfectly!” Mari said, smiling. Jurian glowered at her and said nothing.

“Well, then I’m also right in saying you’re about to get very wet, because there’s no way to go any further west without crossing the river.”

“Thank you for clarifying the obvious for us,” he said. “We’ll be on our way to the river now.”

The giant regarded him skeptically but said nothing, only pointed toward the west with something like a mock bow.

Once they’d gotten out of earshot, Mari sighed and said, “We should have asked him to come with us.”

“Why are you so quick to trust him?” Jurian asked.

“He gave the signum, didn’t you see?”

“And that makes him trustworthy, just like that? What if he was trying to trap us? Maybe he was scratching a gnat bite and you think it makes him a believer. Maybe he’s looking for runaway slaves and thinks that’s what we are.”

“And maybe you just think too much!” she said, too loud—the violence of her voice brought on another fit of coughing.

She leaned on a tree trunk to wait for the spasm to pass, and Jurian watched her anxiously.

“Mari,” he murmured. “You’re not well. Why do you keep trying to hide it?”

She stared at him, the backs of her fingers still pressed against her mouth. Finally she drew a shaking sigh and said, “Because I was afraid if I said anything, it would make it true.”

“Make what true?”

“That I…that I have the wasting illness. Just like Mother.”

Jurian recoiled.

“No,” he said, his blood turning to ice. “No, that’s not possible. It’s just the weather. Sleeping in the chilly air. All this dust. You’ll get well again as soon as we get off the road!”

“Jurian,” she said, letting go of the tree to take his arm. “It’s been happening for much longer than all that. You want me to stop hiding it? Then that's the truth.”

He spun away, feeling like his lungs had failed. It couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t let it be true. When he felt her hand on his shoulder he stopped his frantic pacing and drew a long, steadying breath.

“I’ll keep walking as long as I can,” she murmured, giving him what she meant to be an encouraging smile. “But—”

“Don’t. Just don’t even say it.” Jurian hugged her fiercely for a moment, then took her hand and led her forward.

The trees gave way all at once to the broad sweep of the river. Jurian had led them a little southwest, hoping to get far enough from the bridge that Casca’s Legionaries wouldn’t see them crossing. He’d succeeded in that much—the hills blocked their view of the bridge from here—but still, Jurian stopped in dismay on the bank.

The river was so wide. The water snaked past in swirls and eddies, white foam slapping against a scattering of jagged rocks. Jurian dipped his fingers in the water, gasping at its chill.

It was useless.

“How’re we going to get across this, Jurian?” Mari whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I could build a raft,” Jurian said. But one more look at the river and he had to shake his head. “But the rocks are too rough, and the current’s too fast…we would get swept right under the bridge. And then Casca would know we’re here.”

“Casca?”

“And I don’t have any rope anyway.”

“Jurian.”

“But I could make something out of thin branches, maybe. I could weave them like a mat.”

“Jurian.”

“What?”

He turned and found her pointing behind them. Jurian spun and saw the giant standing at the edge of the trees, watching them quietly.

“Why are you following us?” Jurian asked, frustration bubbling up inside him.

“I came to offer my services.” The man gestured at the river. “Planning to swim?”

“I…” Jurian gritted his teeth and looked away. “I can’t swim. I thought we could walk across.”

“Will you give me the courtesy of listening to my experience?” the giant asked, a bit sternly. Jurian sighed and nodded. “I’ve crossed this river more times than I can count. At its deepest, it reaches my chin.”

He didn’t need to elaborate; the top of Jurian’s head wouldn’t have reached the man’s chin, even standing on his toes.

“So, no walking across,” Jurian said. “Well. You’ve crossed it. Do you have a boat or a raft?”

The man grinned, his white teeth flashing behind the dark bristle of his beard. “No. But I’ll show you what I do have.”

He approached them, and for the first time Jurian noticed he was barefoot. The man planted his massive, dirt-crusted foot between them. His little toe was the size of Jurian’s largest toe, but the largest was almost the size of a small spring onion. But stranger than that, between the two he had four more toes. Jurian stared, not sure whether to be fascinated or disgusted, and he exchanged a quick glance with Mari.

“So…you have six toes?” he asked, uncertain. “I’m sorry, I’m not following. What does this have to do with the river?”

“Five toes are good for gripping, but six are even better,” the giant said, with a flash of something like pride. “When I was your sister’s age I found them terribly embarrassing. Wouldn’t you? Always barefoot, so that people could stare. After all, who makes shoes for a six-toed boy? And how could I have money to pay a cobbler for shoes made just for me? Anyway, I found them useful in the end. A blessing, even. They’ve helped me carry many a burden across many a river, including…” He turned away, staring down the river with the strangest light in his dark eyes. “Including the most precious burden of all.”

Mari watched him, obviously hoping he would explain, but he just shook his head and smiled.

“So you’re saying you can carry us across the river?” Jurian asked.

“I’m suggesting that you have very little alternative than to trust me.”

Jurian gritted his teeth. The man was right. Unless they wanted to risk Casca and the Legion, there was no other way.

“All right, but take her first,” Jurian said, nodding at Mariam. He unslung his bow, staring the giant coldly in the eye. “And I’ll be watching you the entire way.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” the giant said, and asked Mari, “Is he always like this?”

“He didn’t used to be,” she said wistfully.

Jurian’s jaw spasmed, but he didn’t put the bow away. “I’m sure you understand,” he said to the giant. “She’s all I’ve got left.”

The giant put a heavy hand on his shoulder, just briefly, then stooped to a low crouch. “Climb onto my back, girl. I’ll take you safely.”

Jurian helped her scramble onto the man’s broad back. She glanced down at Jurian, anxiety flickering in her eyes.

“Can you hold on the whole way?” Jurian asked. “You tell him if you start to slip, do you hear me?”

“I’ll be all right,” she said. “Stop worrying.”

Jurian circled around to face the giant. “Listen,” he said. “I’m trusting you. She’s not very strong. Please keep a tight hold on her, will you?”

The man offered no flippant answer this time. He only nodded and turned to the river, plunging one foot in, then the other, pausing at each step to get a purchase on the slick riverbed rocks. Jurian watched anxiously as he used the long pole of his sarcina to test out his footing, the water twisting and rushing around his massive legs, then his torso. Mari clung to his neck, her face buried in the folds of his cloak. They reached a sudden rush of water and Jurian’s heart launched into his throat as Mari’s arm slipped and she scrambled to grab hold again.

The giant froze, reaching back to steady her, then slowly moved on, angling his body upstream to take the worst of the current’s force on his chest. They sank lower and lower, until all Jurian could see were their heads and the tall pole.

Jurian held his breath until they started to rise again, and finally let it all out when he saw them come safely ashore. Once he had set Mari down away from the river’s edge, the giant made his slow, careful journey back across the water. He came out dripping and shook himself like a dog, scattering icy water all over Jurian. Jurian took off his cloak and wrapped it around his bow and quiver, sealing the arrows in.

“All right, your turn,” the giant said. “Up you get.”

“Thank you,” Jurian muttered. “For taking such care of her.”

The man gave him a broad, warm smile and turned his back to Jurian, crouching down so that Jurian could climb onto his back. After a few awkward attempts Jurian managed to get up.

“Are you sure I won’t be too heavy?” he asked.

He felt more than heard the man’s rumble of laughter. “I’ve carried the heaviest burden, boy. You’re nothing compared to that.”

“There must be a story in there,” Jurian said, trying not to gasp as the first wave of icy water rushed over his feet. He held onto the giant’s neck with one arm, the other hand balancing his bundle on top of his head. “The most precious burden and the heaviest burden? What were they?”

“The same,” the man said. “Another time, I’ll tell it to you. Now let me concentrate. Keep distracting me and we’ll both get washed away.”

Jurian complied, though this was perhaps the first time in his life that he would have preferred conversation to silence. He didn’t need to worry though; the giant carried him across with just as much carefulness as Mariam, and none too soon he was slogging up onto the river bank. Jurian leapt down and rushed over to Mari. She smiled at him, but her teeth were chattering violently and her whole body shook with cold.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “Just frozen.”

“Let’s take that cloak off. It’s soaked through and won’t do you any good.”

She nodded, her fingers faltering over the cloak clasp, but finally she managed to get rid of it. Jurian freed his own cloak from his bundle and threw it over her shoulders. He was about to ask the giant to start a fire, but found that he was already busy mounding tinder in a hollowed pit.

As soon as they had a good blaze going, Jurian helped Mari over to the warmth, showing her how to sit with the cloak spread out behind her to trap the heat against her body. They all hunkered close to the fire, shivering as the sun seeped toward the horizon.

“We should camp here,” Jurian said. “We’re far enough from the road for a fire. I’ll see about getting us something to eat.”

“We’re next to a river,” the giant said, giving Jurian a reproachful look. “Why not fish?”

“I’m not much of a fisherman,” Jurian admitted.

“Ah, come on. I’ll teach you.”

The giant laid down his provisions, carefully extracting what at first looked like just a jumble of thin ropes. But as the man spread it on the ground, Jurian realized it was a woven net, easily large enough for both him and Mari to climb inside. Along one edge, it was fixed with stones, but along the other edge the giant wove a straight branch he’d found on the river bank. He carried it into the water and held it out to his side, angled up toward the rushing current. Jurian saw how it worked easily enough—the branch kept it spread wide, and the stones weighted the bottom to keep it open.

“That’s all there is to it?” Jurian called.

The man shot him a look of exasperation and amusement. “All there is to it, hah!” he retorted. “I’d like to see you standing out in this water, boy.”

“My name’s Jurian.”

“Strange name,” the giant said. “Barbarian?”

“Germanic.”

“Like I said.” The giant twitched the net, then edged a little farther into the river. “Well. Perhaps you are a bridge.”

Jurian scooped a smooth, flat rock into his palm, weighing it before tossing it into the water.

“If I were a bridge, I wouldn’t have needed you to carry me,” he called.

The giant gave a great bellowing laugh. “Very true. Well, since you’ve finally decided to be civil, I’ll tell you my name.” He bowed his head to Jurian. “Menas. At your service.”