And now what was he? Bahn wondered. A soldier, yes, though certainly no warrior.
Only his own little family offered Bahn a sense of having achieved something right on this path he had chosen with Marlee. He worked hard at being a good husband, a good father, so it cut him even deeper than his mother's words did when he failed them.
Well, no more, he thought. I will hold this family together no matter what the cost.
*
Once the ceremony was over, and his daughter returned to them flushed with excitement, the smell of smoke still lingering in her fine hair, the family gathered in the small square outside the temple in the bright sunlight they had almost forgotten during their time inside. They would return to his aunt's house only a few streets away, where she would hold a family reception with food provided by all, in whatever meagre spread they had been able to fashion together.
Reese walked together with Bahn and his family. She fussed over Ariale and Juno, equally playful with them both. She and Marlee chatted about the ceremony, small things inconsequential, while the sound of the guns roared to the south so steady and regular that Bahn could tell it was merely the daily exchange between the opposing sides. Perhaps the Mannians had given up for the time being, Bahn thought, and truly wished for it to be so.
He and Marlee walked arm in arm while Reese carried their daughter, and their son trailed behind. Marlee looked to him, as though to say, Well then, ask her. He nodded.
'Have you heard from Nico yet?' he asked Reese, and she hefted Ariale more firmly upon her hip before she replied, 'A letter arrived last week, half drowned in the sea by the looks of it. I couldn't make out what it said but, yes, it was from Nico. I could tell that much from the terrible handwriting.'
'Good news at least,' said Marlee. 'Even if you could not read it. I'm sure he's thriving… wherever he might be.' And Marlee left her words adrift in the hope that Reese might tell them more about where her boy had gone, but she did not.
As they left the square, they saw a hedge-monk squatting on the ground with a bowl sitting before him. The man was of middle years, and he stood up as he saw the group approach, then stepped before them, offering his blessings and shaking his bowl. Save for his grubby robes, he barely even looked like a priest. A livid scar ran down his face from forehead to chin. His skull had not been shaved for days.
Another fake monk, Bahn realized. Ever since the council had decreed all begging illegal save on grounds of religion, men in desperation had donned robes and shaved their heads and pretended to be monks such as this one.
The sham of it, Bahn thought, simmering anger suddenly arising inexplicably within him.
'Blessing be upon you,' the man in the black robes declared kindly enough, a few coins clinking in his bowl.
Bahn shoved his way past him, pushing harder than he had intended. A yelp of surprise come from the fake monk's throat, as his bowl went tumbling to the ground and the coins scattered, spinning sunlight.
The family, all of them, stopped to stare at Bahn. Even his son Juno blinked up at him.
I'm sorry, Bahn thought of saying to them all. I watched our men die last night while you all slept in your beds safe and sound because of them. And then, this morning, I ploughed a young whore likely riddled with infection, driven to this condition by poverty and the warped needs of wayward husbands like myself.
But he did not, not on this day. Instead, Bahn performed the apologetic smile of the good husband, the good father, and took his son by the hand, and walked on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Shay Madi The chief whip enjoyed his job. At least it seemed that way to Nico, as the stocky man dragged him roughly from the holding pen deep beneath the stadium floor, occasionally spitting the word 'Rshun' from his plump, stained lips as though it was the worst of curses. Twice his whip lashed out against Nico's back, though Nico barely felt it. It was merely one more pain to add to many.
'In you go,' he snarled as he shoved Nico through a rusty barred door. Nico stumbled into a narrow caged passageway which he saw led some six feet to another sliding door, now also being drawn open from the outside.
A guard stabbed at him through the bars with a pronged stave, blunt but painful, forcing Nico through it into the cage beyond.
He tripped over a prone body and sprawled to the floor, crying out as fresh agonies shot through his shattered hand.
Nico could feel pain everywhere, and he was increasingly feverish from it. His left eye had swollen shut; he couldn't even tell if the eyeball was still there. His lips were a swollen mush. Most of his front teeth were broken or missing. It hurt even to breathe.
The door clattered shut behind him and was locked by one of the guards, while the chief whip laughingly called out to the rest of the unfortunates confined in the cage.
'Make way for the mighty Rshun,' he declared. 'Perhaps, if you're kind enough to him, he will save you all.'
Nico curled into a ball and lay shivering. He could smell his own stench and, above it, that of many others. The cage was crowded with men and women waiting to die.
He felt a hand settle on his arm. He peered up from his one good eye to see a man's face looking down at him with concern.
'Here,' he said softly, as he offered a ladle of water. Nico sipped, instantly choked it back up. 'Easy,' soothed the man. Nico drank some more.
With care he tried to sit up, if only to breathe a little better. Almost instantly his ribs were suffused with white heat. Nico gasped.
The man helped him along, and a few of the others cleared a space so he might rest his back against the bars of the cage. He noticed the man's head was shaven and he wore a black robe.
'Yes, I'm a monk,' said the man, in response to Nico's surprise.
Nico merely nodded. It was the only thanks he could offer. He looked around the enclosed space, saw that everyone was now observing him. He let his gaze drop to the straw-strewn, earthen floor.
A roar rose from the arena outside, the muffled sound passing through a heavy gate at the end of another barred passageway. A woman lying on the floor moaned into the dust.
'May you be with the Dao,' said the priest to Nico, touching him lightly again on the arm. The touch was comforting, human. The monk turned away to see to the woman, and to offer her what little comfort he could.
Nico wrapped his arms about himself, moving the limbs with a delicate slowness. He forced his mind to focus on his breathing. Every time he exhaled, he thought of the agony releasing itself from his body. When he inhaled, he thought of stillness.
It seemed to work, after a while – or at least enough for him to think straight. Thoughts were good now. They could take him away from this place.
So he allowed his mind to drift. He thought of sunny Khos, the cottage, his mother. He wished he could see her now more than anything else in the world.
Time passed unawares. The bars of the cage clattered behind his head. It was the chief whip again.
'That one next,' the man decided, and pointed out the woman being comforted by the monk. 'And that one, the monk, too.'
Other guards prodded the chosen captives with their pronged staves, though keeping at a safe distance behind the bars. 'Up – up!' they shouted.
The monk helped the woman to her feet, still holding her close to him. An outer door slid open in the cage. Together, they stepped into the passageway leading to the gate.
'Stop,' said the chief whip.
The guards pressed against the barred passageway and reached inside with leather-gloved hands. They yanked away the woman's clothing until she stood there exposed to their stares. Purple bruises covered her flesh. Bite marks, too. The monk for his part, was allowed to keep his robe, so that the crowd could tell what he was.