Portus, Italia
It was late afternoon when Dionysius’ barge drifted up to moor in the channel at Portus. Jurian took his leave of Dionysius and Cyricius, who insisted on sending a skin of their fine Gallican wine with him—for the road, or for a bribe, they said.
“Give my thanks to Justinus and Aemelia,” he said, clasping Dionysius’ arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to thank them myself.”
“They’ll understand. Godspeed, Jurian. I wish that your stay in Rome had been a happier one.”
Jurian bent his head and nodded. “So do I,” he said. And that was all there was to say.
Cyricius clasped his shoulder. “If you ever need wine, or a friend, come find us. We’re good for both.”
Jurian smiled. “Thanks.” He shuffled a step back. He’d never liked farewells, and was finding less and less to like about them as time went on. “I guess I’d better go find Menas.”
He turned without waiting for a reply, only holding up a hand as he went in farewell, and he didn’t look back. As he made his way back to the main ring of the inner harbor, he wondered how he would ever find Menas. It couldn’t be that hard to track down a giant, though, even among the thick crowds. But it turned out he didn’t have to look at all, because he’d barely stepped out under the cold winter sun at the water’s edge when an enormous voice boomed behind him,
“Jurian!”
He turned and braced himself as Menas barreled toward him, crushing him in suffocating embrace. Jurian coughed and punched Menas’ arm until he let go.
“Saints, Menas, I was only gone…”
God, was it only yesterday that I went to Rome? Could so much have changed so fast?
“Well, I’m still happy to see you,” Menas rumbled. “Eh, Jurian, what’s that on your back? Looks like a sword made for someone my size.”
Jurian smiled. “I’ll tell you, but first—”
“Did you get Mari settled in with your relatives?”
He flinched, and he felt the blood drain from his cheeks, turning traitor on him. Menas must have noticed, because he took a step back, slowly.
“Jurian? Is Mari all right?”
It’s your fault! Jurian wanted to scream. If you hadn’t been so stubborn about staying here and making us go alone, you could have protected her!
“Jurian?”
He closed his eyes. “Menas…Casca found us, in the city. I was…I wasn’t where I should have been, and Mari was alone. He saw me first, and we argued…then he went after her.”
“Is she—”
“She made the signum, Menas. Right in front of him and two Legionaries. Told them she was betrothed. And Casca…” His voice shook, but he forced the words out, “He killed her for it.”
Menas stared at him, his expression like stone, dark with rage. Jurian had never seen him so angry. He took half a step back, but suddenly Menas dropped to his knees there on the dock and covered his face with his hands. Jurian’s heart wrenched and he crouched beside him, resting his hand silently on Menas’ upper arm. He couldn’t blame Menas. The giant had done no wrong…there was no one to blame but himself. And he wouldn’t even have blamed Menas for hating him for it.
“I’m so sorry,” Menas said, looking up. He took Jurian’s head in his hand, his face etched with grief. “I wish I had been there. I should have been there.”
Jurian took Menas’ hand and clasped it briefly. “Don’t blame yourself, Menas. She wouldn’t want you to.”
Menas gave him a penetrating look. “Follow your own advice. I can see that guilt in your eyes. Let it go. She is in God’s hands.” He stood, giving Jurian a hand to pull him to his feet. “What is your plan now? Are you going to join the Legion?”
“Not yet,” Jurian said, wiping a hand over his mouth to banish the last of his sorrow. “I have business in Cyrene.”
Menas made a low rumbling noise in his chest. “Cyrene? After everything everyone’s been telling you about that place?”
“That’s exactly why I need to go,” Jurian said. He explained as briefly as he could about the sword’s scroll, with its description of the dragon. “So, I think I’m meant to go there, to try to defeat that creature.”
“What if it meant Britannia?” Menas asked. “After all, it says the chief dragon will rise in Britannia, and there’s rumor of war brewing up there.”
“There’s always war brewing in Britannia. And I think they’re two different dragons. One will fall, and one will rise.” He shook his head in irritation. “It’s hard to explain. But I need to help those people. Mari was right. They’re suffering so much, and no one will raise a hand to help them, and they’re certainly not going to do it themselves if they think it’s a god they’re facing. But I can do something. I have to try.”
Menas grumbled. “How about a bite to eat? There’s a wonderful taberna across the port. I’ve made the acquaintance of some Celtic sailors who plan to winter here in Italia. And they’re fellow travelers.” He started walking as he spoke, guiding Jurian along with him. “You don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you? Celtic merchants from Britannia, here! They already told me they would sail us there, if we wanted to go.”
Jurian said nothing.
“Are you certain you want to go to a godforsaken place like Cyrene?”
“Absolutely,” Jurian said. “Cyrene first. Then Britannia.”
His gaze drifted over the knots of people milling around the quayside. He could hear some kind of commotion nearby, but couldn’t quite locate it. Finally he spotted a knot of Roman Legionaries, with a small crowd gathered around them. Jurian smacked Menas on the arm and pointed.
“What’s going on there, do you suppose?”
Menas drew back, turning a bit pale. “I’d rather not find out. Come on. Only a little further.”
Jurian frowned at him, but Menas planted his legs like a mule and Jurian knew he’d never be able to get him to move.
“I’m going to go have a look. I’ll meet you at the taberna if you don’t want to come with me.”
“What, you have a sword on your back and now you think you’re some kind of avenging angel?” Menas grumbled, scratching idly at the leather band on his arm.
“Preserver of the peace,” Jurian said with a faint smile.
“I’ll stay right here.”
Jurian shook his head and made his way toward the arguing crowd. His stomach wrenched, sending a shower of cold through him. What if it was another Christian soldier being beaten? Could he stand by and do nothing? But he wasn’t sure he knew how to get involved without becoming guilty himself.
He pushed through the inner ring of citizens and found the Legionaries surrounding, not one of their own, but a girl about his own age, who might have been strikingly pretty if not for the mud and dust streaking her cheeks. Something about her seemed rather familiar to Jurian—the pallor of her skin, maybe, or the gold of her eyes—but he couldn’t place it. The girl was dressed like any commoner, but she wore no slave bracelet or choker. Still, that seemed to be the brunt of the Legionaries’ accusations against her.
“Where is your master?” one of them asked.
“We know a runaway when we see one. What commoner has that much coin to try to get passage on a ship?”
“And what business has a girl got traveling by sea, alone?”
The girl’s eyes flashed. “It’s my business, not yours,” she snapped, her voice lower than Jurian expected. “How dare you accuse me of being a slave?”
“She doesn’t even speak very good Latin. Do you hear that accent? She must have been brought in from some conquered tribe somewhere. Where are you from, girl?”
The girl looked ready to keep fighting, but Jurian knew she was facing a losing battle. Once the Legionaries decided they’d found a runaway slave, they wouldn’t stop harassing her until they’d taken her away in chains. He sighed and grabbed two of the Legionaries by their shoulders, driving them aside.
“You found her!” he cried.
The two Legionaries turned to look at him, their gazes snapping immediately to the sword’s hilt at his shoulder.
“What’s a boy like you doing with a weapon like that?” one of them asked.
“First you call her a slave and now you call me a boy?” Jurian said, hot. “Are you blind?”
One of the other soldiers chuckled and whispered something to his neighbor.
“Do you know this girl?” another asked.
Jurian caught the girl’s wide-eyed gaze and held it briefly. “Of course I do,” he snapped. “She’s my…” His voice caught on the word sister, but he recovered quickly. “Cousin.”
“Your cousin?”
“Are you deaf too? That’s what I said. Come on…Lucretia,” he said to the girl. “Your father’s been looking for you everywhere.”
She glared at him so fiercely he almost stepped back, but instead he just reached an impatient hand toward her. With a mutter under her breath, she gave the Legionaries a bitter look and took Jurian’s hand.
“All right?” Jurian asked the men. “This is not your concern.”
One of the men jerked his head at the others, and with one final, long look at the pair of them, they turned away. Jurian watched them out of the corner of his eye, but when he realized none of them had moved too far away, he gave the girl’s hand a tug and started toward the market stalls across the harbor. He steered clear of Menas to try to keep the Legionaries from seeing him—for whatever reason, the giant seemed terrified of being discovered by the army, and Jurian wasn’t about to put him in the way of that happening.
“Let go,” the girl hissed suddenly, yanking her hand back.
Jurian swung toward her, so fast that she almost ran into him. “Look around,” he said. “Those Legionaries are still watching. I’ve got no idea what trouble you were in with them, but if you want to stay out of it, at least let me get you over to that crowd so you can disappear.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said.
Jurian dropped her hand abruptly and took a step back. “All right.”
He heard her let out a thin breath as he turned away, and just as he expected, a few steps later she come up beside him.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll walk with you to the market. But that’s all.”
Jurian stifled a smile and glanced down at her. The girl strode quietly beside him, chin up and eyes down—a strange combination. Most of the noble women he’d ever seen kept their eyes up, and most slaves kept their heads bowed. The girl had confidence and some kind of dignity, but he couldn’t make sense of it.
“You’re not a slave,” he said presently.
Her gaze flashed to his, her strangely luminous golden eyes bright with indignation. “Of course I’m not.”
“What are you doing in Portus?”
“I didn’t agree to come with you so you could ask me questions,” she muttered, staring at the ground again.
He shook his head. “Will you tell me your name?”
She bristled but said promptly enough, “Eva.” She sighed and added, “All right. I’m a freedwoman, but I came to Rome with my mistress. We got separated in the city so I came back to Portus.”
“Do you think she’ll find you here?” Jurian asked. “Perhaps you should go back to Rome.”
Eva laughed bitterly. “What chance do you think I’d have of finding her there?”
Jurian shrugged. “Just trying to help.”
“Jurian!” an enormous voice called, and Jurian winced as he glanced over his shoulder to see Menas striding toward them.
“All right,” he told Eva, gesturing at the market stalls around them. “You should be clear now. Good luck.”
She didn’t move. For a moment she just stood staring, one hand covering her mouth. Finally she managed to whisper, “That man is a giant.”
“Well, don’t gawk at him,” Jurian said. “That’s my friend, Menas.”
Eva made a little affirmative noise in her throat.
“Jurian,” Menas said, lumbering up beside them. He took one glance at Eva and narrowed his eyes, but then he remembered himself and inclined his head to her. “Jurian, I found us a ship bound for Apollonia. Or, not exactly. Ship’s pilot said they would go to Carthage and Leptis Magna, and then to Alexandria, but I, eh, convinced him to make a stop at Apollonia while he’s in the area.”
Jurian flicked a glance at Eva. The girl had gotten very still, paler than usual, and suddenly she pressed a hand to her face and said,
“Please, domine, take me with you!”
Jurian folded his arms. “I thought your mistress was in Rome.”
She bit her lip, her eyes shining with tears. “That wasn’t entirely true. She was in Rome, and I got separated from her, but I think she’s already gone back to Cyrene. We were meant to sail this morning. I…I didn’t make it back in time to find her.”
Jurian exchanged a glance with Menas. “You’re from Cyrene?”
Eva nodded. “Please. Please. Don’t leave me here on my own. I’ll gladly pay you to escort me back.”
Jurian turned aside, gritting his teeth. The last thing he wanted on this journey was baggage, and yet, deep inside, he knew that wasn’t what bothered him the most.
He wouldn’t do it. No matter what Marcellinus said…he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else. Not now. Not yet.
“No,” he said, and touched Menas on the arm. “I’m sorry.”
Eva trailed after them. “I won’t be in the way. I promise. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“Don’t beg from me,” Jurian said, more harshly than he meant. “It won’t change my mind.”
Her eyes blazed and her hands knotted in fists, but whatever she meant to say she choked back at the last moment. “All right,” she said, cold. “Just tell me which ship is making the voyage and I’ll negotiate my own passage with the pilot.”
Jurian closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting his breath out in a faint hiss. “Fine,” he said. “Stay with us if you must. I don’t care.”
“Gods, you’re rude,” she said.
“He’s had a long day,” Menas said, giving her a warning look. “He needs to eat. You look like you could use some food too.” He pointed down the promenade to a dimly lit tavern. “Eh? It’s not much, but the fish stew they serve is tolerable.”
Eva wrinkled her nose but apparently knew better than to object. Jurian gave Menas a long look and shook his head, but kept his thoughts to himself as they headed toward the taberna.