“No. You seek death.”
“Then why do you not tell me what they have shown you?”
‘It is not time.”
Falco stared off to the north, falling silent.
“Do you know when we will arrive?” Kaia asked.
Falco pointed ahead and to the left, where a promontory of land poked into the sea. “Beyond that lie Varna where the XXV Legion is headquartered.”
“Which means I can open my follow-on orders.” General Cassius had come forward, dressed in his best armor, with a scarlet cloak pinned to the shoulders. In his hand was a scroll with the imperial seal. Falco would have opened it the minute he was outside the gates of Rome, but he knew better than to suggest such to Cassius, a man to whom honor was paramount.
Cassius slipped his dagger under the wax seal, parting it smoothly. He unrolled the scroll and read, eyes flicking back and forth as he went down the lines.
“As we already knew. Take command of the XXV Legion. Travel under the guidance of Kaia, priestess of the Oracle of Delphi, on a reconnaissance in force north of Bospora. Upon encountering any hostile forces, engage and destroy.”
“And what didn’t we know, sir?” Falco asked.
“Upon completion of that mission,” Cassius said slowly as he rolled the orders back up, “the XXV Legion is to continue its reconnaissance and march to the northeast until recalled by the emperor.”
“That’s insane,” Falco said without thinking.
Cassius smiled. “My old friend, I would have thought you had been in Rome long enough to know sanity has nothing to do with decrees of the emperor.”
“I don’t understand,” Kaia said.
Cassius peered at the land north of them as he spoke. “The legion we are meeting is not particularly loyal to the emperor. The emperor does not consider me particularly loyal, and he considers me dangerously popular with the Praetorians and legions. Falco, well, I would say he considers Falco just plain dangerous, probably the most accurate perception of the three. After we assist you, we are to march off into the unknown lands of Asia, awaiting the emperor’s recall, which, of course, will never come. It’s all perfectly logical if you look at it from the emperor’s point of view.”
“I say we—” Falco began but Cassius raised a hand.
“Hush, old friend. There are ears everywhere; ears that will return to Rome.”
Falco noted that Fabatus had drifted close to them, even as the ship cleared the point and headed in toward a harbor, above which a wooden fort in the traditional Roman style was built on a hill.
“Besides,” Cassius said, “we should take things one step at a time. Worrying about these orders” — he tapped the scroll—“is premature. We must first accomplish the first mission assigned.”
The imperial galley was a mile offshore of Herculaneum, or rather where the port city to Pompeii had once been. Now there was only mud and ash where once had been a town.
“Any survivors from Pompeii?” Titus asked Thyestes as he surveyed the damage.
“None, Emperor.”
“Herculaneum?” he asked, referring to the port city that had serviced Pompeii.
“Some sailors who were offshore when the town was covered survived.
Not an auspicious start to his reign, Titus thought.
“There was a report of another similar event,” Thyestes said. “Another volcano erupting.
Titus turned toward his advisor. “Where and when?”
“The island of Thera. Five days ago. And I have been told that the imperial courier ship carrying Cassius was offshore when it occurred.”
“Did they survive?”
“Yes, Emperor. A galley spotted them in the Cyclades, heading toward the Hellesponte.”
A week ago Titus would have preferred to hear no to that question, but seeing the destruction that had come from Vesuvius, he was relieved to hear that Cassius had survived and was continuing on his mission with the strange priestess from Delphi.
“There are reports of trembles in the Earth arriving daily from all over the empire,” Thyestes continued. “From Hesperia, Gaul, even Britain. Also from our provinces in Africa. There has been some destruction in Egypt caused by the Earth moving. A temple dedicated to your father was destroyed.”
Bad omens all around, Titus thought. He had never been a fervent believer in the various gods, but after seeing the way the Jews fought against his legions in Palestine, he had realized there was a power greater than that of the sword. Even though Jerusalem had been razed, the temple destroyed, and hundreds of thousands put to death, there was still a small band clinging to a rock called Masada in the middle of the desert. Titus knew he would have to deal with that among the many other issues facing his empire.
“Thyestes, perhaps we were hasty with our orders to Cassius.”
Thyestes remained quiet, waiting for his emperor’s thought to be played out.
“Send a courier after Cassius. When he completes this mission, I want him to go to Palestine and take command of the X Legion once more. He will finish what we started so many years ago.”
“Yes, Emperor.”
A maniple was drawn up on the dock, assembled no doubt in response to the imperial guidon that flapped in the slight breeze from the mast. As the ship was tied up, Falco looked down on the troops with a critical eye. Their armor wasn’t polished but looked to be in good shape. The weapons were sharp and glittered in the sunlight, which was more important than bright armor. The eyes of the men were on the ship, wondering what fate was delivering them from Rome. Falco knew what thoughts were racing through their head: A recall? An expedition to be mounted against some real or imagined enemy of the empire? Simply an imperial envoy relaying normal orders? A new commander, perchance?
“They look functional,” Cassius said in a low voice.
Falco had relayed to the general the words of Centurion Attius.
“Yes, sir, they do.” But Falco could also see the looks in the eyes that peered back at him. No sign of fear or even respect. “However, if they get an order they don’t necessarily think is a good one…” Falco didn’t finish the thought, knowing that Cassius could see the same thing. Falco knew that most Roman officers would come in like a tornado, cracking the whip and using punishment to quickly take command, perhaps crucify a few men to make the point. He also knew that Cassius wasn’t like most Roman officers.
The gangplank was extended to the dock. Cassius walked to the opening in the railing and paused. This was where a speech should be made, from the higher position of the ship, looking down on the troops. Cassius walked down the ramp without a word, Falco behind him.
An officer was at the head of the maniple. The tribune laticlavius, Falco knew from the accoutrements the man wore, which meant he was the senior tribune, second in command of the legion. It was also a position that more often than not went to political appointees who needed some military time to round out their records before running for the senate, rather than a career military men.
The tribune raised his arm in salute. “Hail, envoy of the emperor.”
Cassius returned the salute and stopped right in front of the tribune. He extended the copy of orders that Titus had given him in Rome, ceding command of the legion to him. The tribune was a young man, his skin red from exposure to the sun, lines of sweat rolling down from underneath his highly polished helmet.
The tribune took them and unrolled the paper, quickly reading. His body stiffened, and he saluted once more. “Hail, General Cassius.” He lowered his arm and his voice so the men behind him wouldn’t hear. “This comes as a surprise, General. We had no word. If we had known, we would have prepared a more appropriate reception.”