The Songs of Slaves (38 page)

Fighting back the torrent of emotion that surged, he stood to his feet and sheathed his
spatha.
He strode forward into the length of the courtyard, knowing what he would find, knowing what he must do.

The ornamental trees in the courtyard where full of autumn gold. More leaves drifted down and gathered at their bases or on the bright stones of the mosaics. Three birds flittered by, stirred from some nest in the rooftop perhaps. Before him he could see four of Arastan’s men, as yet unaware of him. He could hear or sense more off in the rooms to the side. He could hear the screaming of women in the kitchen;
women that he knew
. He could hear the pleadi
ng of old men, domestic slaves
bargaining for thei
r lives or imploring the thieves
not to destroy too much. Connor was aware of everything. He knew that
Valia
and the others would even now be reaching the doors of the villa. He knew that they would enter much more cautiously than he had, for they had come to restrain Arastan and not to make needless confrontation. But Connor had only one purpose left in this place; and as the door of the upstairs northeast corner burst open, he saw her step out into the sunlight and the chaos.

Lucia
walked forward, a captor’s grip on her raven hair and a knife
at her throat. She wore a
white
linen
dress, giving her the look of a bride or priestess. Connor saw that instead of finding a knife to protect her
self with she loosely gripped her
ivory
athame
. Had she been in her room casting spells of protection over her house, praying to Isis instead of looking for an escape? As she moved forward, two other Goths flanked the first – tall men, chain mail glinting, swords naked and bloodied. But
Lucia
moved stoically forward on her own power, her eyes ahead and full of quiet bravery. She held her head high as a noblewoman, unflinching at the blade that rested there.

But suddenly
Lucia
looked down into the courty
ard bellow and saw the fallen
form of Lucius Montevarius. A great scream erupted from her chest, and as the men pushed her fro
m step to step, she began to weep
.

“Lord Arastan!” o
ne of her captors
– a man of about thirty, with squinty eyes and a patchy blonde beard
–
called.

Arastan emerged into the courtyard
with
in seconds. The tall youth had a look of maniacal glee on
his gaunt countenance. Hair
hung in his face, matted by blood spray
. His sword was drawn, and he held a nearly-full leather sack in his other. As he saw
Lucia
he dropped the
bag
. Reaching the bottom of the steps,
Lucia
’s captors threw her to the ground. She landed hard on her
hands and
knees, her
athame
sliding out of her grasp. Instantly,
Lucia
jumped to her feet and ra
n for her father; but the blonde-bearded man
grabbed her and slammed her down again.

Arastan stood in front of her, and as she tried to stand again he grabbed her by her hair and slapped her
across her face
.
Lucia
spit at him
, evoking another brutal blow. Again g
rabbing a handful of her thick hair, Arastan pulled her to her feet, then spun her by her shoulders and forced her down over one of the heavy ceramic urns.

“Hold her arms!” Arastan hissed. He sheathed his sword, and hiking up the hem of his mail shirt he tucked it into his belt.
Lucia
screamed in fury, sorrow, and terror; but could do nothing but struggle against the two ma
ssive Goths that pinned her
.

“Stop!
”
Connor called out, his voice booming through the courtyard.

Arastan turned towards him. The look of amazement on the young lord’s face quickly turned to anger.

“You?”
Arastan said.

Lucia
too had looked over to see who had spoken. The brief flicker of hope in her eyes was quickly smothered by confusion.

“Let her go
,
” Connor said. His voice still carried, but his tone was calm. His hands hung by his sides, and
Archangel
still rested in its
scabbard.

“And why the fuck should I listen to you?” Arastan said.

“Because I a
m speaking to you of moderation and honor,
” Connor said, forcing a smile. “
Virtus et Clementia
– valor and mercy –
are
the virtues that mark the true warrior.
Enough has been taken from this girl. Leave her alone.”

“I agree,
” said
Valia, striding up beside Connor. Gaiseric, Tuldin, Henric, and the others were close behind
, but still no weapons were drawn amongst them.

If Arastan was angry before he was furious now, but he struggled to control himself.

“I see,
” he said. “Abandoning your post to poach on our claim? Is that it?
Fine work,
Valia
.
Leave our people to move blindly across the countryside while you try to steal from me?
You jealous bastard.
My father will hear of this.”

“I don’t
know what you are talking about,
”
Valia
said with a smile. “I still have a full contingent of scouts on the road. I only came here because I thought you might need some help. Controlling a villa this size can be dangerous. No telling what resources they have
,
or what the slaves might do.”

“Is that yo
ur story?” Arastan spat. “
I suppose that I cannot stop you. Take what your greedy hands can carry then, but again – my father will know.”

Valia
smirked, but bowed his head in mock politeness. He was about to speak more when Connor interrupted him.

“We will start by taking charge of that girl
.”

“If you want this girl you can take your place behind me and my men. I don’t care if you are aligned with
Valia
; you do not come in here making demands of me. I was here first. I took the risks. She is mine.”

As if to underscore his stat
ement, Arastan drew his dagger and cut the cord that served as Lucia’s
belt.
As he tore at her dress
Lucia
screamed and struggled anew, but her captors held her. Far from un-nerving Arastan, as Connor had hoped to do, it seemed that he had only enraged him further – and the young man’s rage was looking for a victim.

“She is not yours; she i
s mine. I challenge you for her!
” Connor proclaimed,
his voice silencing the courtyard as he stepped
forward.

“
Valia
?”
Henric protested. This was not the plan.

“Connor,
”
Valia
whispered. But Connor was not listening as he took another step forward.

“
Valia
,” Arastan said, “sorry about the loss of your man. This has gone too far. You come onto my find to poach, and then you challenge me? Fuck you! Kill him.”

Four of Arastan’s Visig
oths moved forward. Connor was aware of two more flanking behind him. They were all big men.
They all wore
armor. And they were all eager to shed more blood today. But Connor did not yet draw his sword. Drawing his blade too early would be certain death.

“Coward!”
Connor cried.
“Rotten pig-shit coward!
Challenged by one of your own people, by right of law, and yet you try to let
others do your murder for you.”

Connor’s attackers looked back to their master. Connor knew that he was on the right path. He took another step, slowly crossing the distance towards Arastan.

“I have heard the lore of the Visigoths,
” Connor said, his voice loud and beginning to take on rhythm. “I have heard the glorious stories, the legends,
the
fame. I know of the struggles, of the dreams of the Gothic people. You will not be down-trodden. You will not be victims. No man may dominate you. No ruler may rule without respect for you. Wars will be fought for your glory, not at your ex
pense. This is the path of the
Visig
oth, the path of glory and honor. Is it not? Is it not?”

The Goths – both Arastan’s and
Valia
’s men – were all looking intently at him, listening.

“And now I stand before you as one of you, adopted and baptized in blood, and I demand law. I say that the woman is mine. I say that mine is the prior claim. And I say that I am making t
his challenge in blood and iron
! Now, what say you? Would you deny me? Deny one who is as one of you? Murder me instead of let God, Fate, and the sacred ancestors decide? Have you been so corrupted by Roman ways? For that is what the Romans would do – only hear what they want to hear, and kill all those that oppose them. Look into your hearts, my brothers. Is that the character of the Goth?
Is that what the worthy Visigoths are to become?
”

Arastan let the hem of his mail drop down from his belt as he stepped away from
Lucia
and towar
ds Connor. There was an icy scraping
as he drew his sword.

“Except that you are no Goth,” h
e said, his eyes blazing, his face colored at the sting of the insults lain at this feet. “You call us brothers, but we do not even know you. God knows what you are.”

“I am a barbarian,
” Connor said. “This is not just a Gothic war, but a miss
ion of justice for all our
kind – Visigoth and Ostrogoth, Alan and Vandal, Frank and Sueve.
My ancestors fought these wars before yours did.
I have been accepted by
Valia
. If he says that I am his man, then I am under the Gothic banner, and as much a part of that spiritual inheritance as any of you.”

Arastan looked over towards
Valia
, as did all the men, awaiting his answer.
Valia
seemed to shake off his confusion.

“It is as he says.”

Arastan turned his back.

“Men stand back!” t
he young warlord cried. “Cut the branches to mark the boundary. This whore-spawn wants to challenge me – Arastan, son of the great
Stratygos
Sarus – to single combat for the ownership of one Roman bitch! Make ready. Mark the scene well. Mark what happens when I am opposed.”

Arastan stood tall with his arms outstretched, his sword brandished. Without prompting, one of his men brought his shield. Another placed his helmet on his head and strapped it down.

Valia
grabbed Connor’s tunic
and wheeled him around.

“You fool! What are you doing? What have you brought us into?”

Connor looked at the confusion, concern, and anger in the Goth’s face.

“You have been a good friend to me, Lord
Valia,
” Connor said.

“You saved my life yesterday,
”
Valia
said. “By backing up your claim I just saved you from being hacked to death by ten men. Cunning words and good rhetoric, Connor; but now Arastan is going to kill you for your trouble. This is senseless!”

“I’ll get him my shield,
” Gaiseric said, turning to run back to where the horses were tethered.

“No,
”
Valia
said. “He is facing the son of Sarus in combat. We are far too close to this situation already.”

Valia
raised his voice. “Connor is one o
f my warriors; and yet he duels
now on his own. The decision that Fate now renders shall be the decision that we all accept. He has no second – and this fight will not escalate. This is my command. Lord Arastan, do you also enter this pact?”

“Just gi
ve me the blood of this bastard,
” Arastan growled.
“To hell with the rest of you.”

The rumble of “No fratricide” passed through the men gathered. Whether they would stick to this pact or not, Connor did not know. The chances were that he would not be there to see how this day turned out.

Branches were hastily cut from trees and lain down to mark the borders of the fighting ring, t
hough the ornamental trees
provided some natural obstacles and boundaries. It was getting darker. The air was cool on
Connor’s red ears. Montevarius’
blood was dried and cracked on his hands. Everything seemed so sharp, so acute. Ahead of him, dragged just out of the way,
Lucia
stared at him with bloodshot eyes, silent as the tears streamed down her beautiful face.