“Ah, yes.” The pater patrum stepped toward Lucius and extended his hand.
Lucius took his hand, and they shook, completing the ancient ritual in honor of Mithras and Sol Invictus, sealing their bond in the same manner.
Leaning over to the pater patrum, Syphax mumbled, “Let’s move this along to the banquet before things get out of hand.”
Finally recovering, the pater patrum nodded, lifted his arms, and addressed the room, “Please, move the benches to the walls and summon the servants with the banquet so we may honor Mithras’s servants with the blessings of food and drink.”
Syphax took his friend by the elbow and led him to an out-of-the-way corner, the other centurions following and forming a protective barrier between the rest of the adherents and their leader and Lucius.
Lucius leaned toward Syphax, placing his lips close to the older man’s ears. “Why is everyone acting so oddly?”
“You fell to your knees, then glowed as if you were lit from within by the light of the moon. Everything went silent, then we heard Luna claim you as hers and put her blessing upon you—‘Know that I have marked you as mine. Rise with my blessing upon your heart.’ It was by her power and grace you were raised two grades instead of the one that was planned. You have been touched by the divine, and everyone here was a witness to it.” Syphax chuckled nervously. “Her presence was overwhelming, and I was just a bystander. Damn it, man, she even changed the symbols on your robe to her crescent moon.”
Lucius looked down. A silver crescent moon covered the cloth over his heart. She’d changed the entire robe. The cloth shimmered, shot through with silver threading. Besides her crescent moon, stars dappled the surface. He lifted the robe to inspect it closer. Syphax’s eyes went wide.
“Gods above and below, she’s even marked your armor.” Syphax ran a finger over one of the steel plates of Lucius’s lorica. “A goddess has noticed you, my friend, and for good or ill, you’ve been marked. Let’s hope it brings us luck instead of bringing unwanted eyes down upon us. We’re going to have enough trouble with Parthians and Armenians with unknown loyalties.”
Lucius, robbed of speech, nodded. As the words Syphax had repeated moved through his mind, he realized that most of his audience with the goddess had been private. She’d only appeared to him, but she’d let the room know her presence through the glow and her blessing. Too overwhelmed to comprehend the magnitude of his meeting, he closed his eyes and tried to cement every image into his memory, though he doubted he’d forget any bit of it, even to his dying day.
Responding to an urge, he reached down to pull his gladius free so he could inspect it. When he found his right hip empty, he chuckled and shook his head. It now resided on his left hip, as befit a centurion. He held the scabbard and pulled the gladius out a few inches. The one side was blank and unmarked as it had been when it was purchased. When he moved the sword so he could look at the other side, he gasped. It too had been transformed. Near the hilt guard, a crescent moon adorned the steel, etched into the blade with both points of the moon pointing toward the tip. Stylized stars were scattered about the rest of that side of the blade.
He pulled the sword the rest of the way from the scabbard and held it flat in his hands so Syphax could look at it. Syphax shook his head, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Treasure this, Lucius, but put it away before anyone else wants to see it.” Syphax slid over to help block the view while Lucius resheathed the weapon.
The wall of centurions kept the civilians away while the servants set up the banquet. The scent of food drifted to Lucius’s nose, making his mouth water as servants carried in platters of food. The aroma of roast meats, probably beef, lamb, and goat, competed with the spicy scents of dishes he couldn’t name. Though he rarely got the opportunity, he sought the heavily spiced food of Syria that was so different from the cuisine of his youth. He peeked around the shoulders of his comrades to see what all was being brought in. His stomach rumbled.
“Well, gentlemen,” Syphax said. “At least we’ll get to eat well before it’s nothing but marching rations.”
The centurions mumbled their acknowledgments, eyeing the piles of food.
“Let’s tuck in.” Syphax reached out and took a wine cup offered by a servant with a jug of wine watered down with fruit juice, spices, and fruit.
Lucius took a deep drink from his cup, savoring the rich flavors of the quality wine—berries, exotic fruits he didn’t know the name of, honey, and more of the tantalizing spices of the east. Tomorrow, he’d return to life as a legionnaire, but tonight he’d celebrate with wine and food provided by Antiochia’s rich patrons of Mithras.
FOUR
“Is that it?” Lucius asked.
“Aye, Centurio. Across that hill should be the town of Tigranocerta,” the legionnaire replied.
“Thank you, Decanus.” Lucius stared over the hills. After a hot summer, the greens had turned to golds and browns, especially in the terraces and valleys where farms and farmers were harvesting their crops. Raising his hand, he brought it down toward the hill the decanus had pointed to and nudged his pony forward.
His men fell in behind him. Patting the neck of his pony, Lucius smiled, glad the horse’s legs would be the ones doing most of the hill climbing, because Armenia had more than its share of hills. The farmers and workers eyed Lucius’s fifty-man scouting party wearing obvious Roman equipment and dress. Anyone close to the road drifted away from it, not interested enough in watching the Romans pass to stick around in case they might want to talk. Unless they were the archers promised by Trajan’s Armenian puppet, Lucius had no interest in bothering the Armenians going about their lives.
When they crested the hill overlooking Tigranocerta, Lucius didn’t see a camp anywhere. A unit of two hundred or more archers and support personnel should make for a noticeable bivouac unless it was tucked back in one of the many valleys.
“I don’t see our loaned archers, do you, Decanus?” Lucius asked.
“I do not,” the decanus replied. “What now, Centurio?”
“They were supposed to be right outside the city walls.” Lucius scratched his chin under the leather strap holding his helmet on. “I’m not particularly interested in standing around out in the open. Let’s turn around. We’ll meet the rest of the cohort and report to the Tribunus.” Lucius turned to the man wearing the black crest and white feathers of an optio. “Optio Venextos turn us around. Send out scouts front, back, and sides.”
“Aye, Centurio.” Venextos saluted and yelled out the orders, swinging their vexillation around.
A couple hours later, Lucius and his vexillation road through the gates of the cohort’s road fort. Handing off his pony to a groom, Lucius marched to Syphax’s tent, stepping through the flap when Syphax called his name. He saluted and sat in the camp chair his leader gestured to.
“Where are my archers, Lucius?” Syphax asked, looking up from the wax tablet he’d been scribbling on.
“Either they’re camouflage specialists, or they’re not where they’re supposed to be. We scouted the area but didn’t enter the town.”
“We’ll pay a visit to the town administrator, see which way the wind blows.” He mumbled a curse. “Half the damned nobles of Armenia are related to the damned Parthians. I hope we finish this damned mission before this whole country reverts to Parthian control. Three fucking years of fighting, and we’re already handing it all back.”
“Do you think Hadrianus will try to reconquer it?” Lucius took the wine Syphax’s servant brought over.
“Gnaius, can you find the Armenians, please?” After his servant left, Syphax relaxed back into his chair, stretching his legs in front of him. “I doubt it. Hadrianus isn’t the type.”
“You think the old man will actually name him his successor?” Lucius sipped the watered-down wine.
“I don’t know if he’ll do it or not, but unless something I don’t foresee happens, Hadrianus will be the next imperator.” Syphax shrugged. “As long as he keeps the pay regular, I could do without dragging my old ass across whatever border the empire wants to push back. I wouldn’t mind finding a little patch of dirt and train up the rest of this legion.”
Lucius chuckled. “Yeah, we’re not much of a legion with only one cohort.”
Gnaius popped his head back in “Sir? I have Ariazate.”
“Thank you, Gnaius. You’re free for the evening.”
