Lucius chuckled at her statement. They would indeed be awake before the Armenian’s sun god made his appearance. Scanning the sky, he found the cloud-shrouded glow of Selene’s moon and let the peace he’d felt seeing her in Antiochia fill him. He didn’t know why her light had shined especially brightly on him that day, but he was glad it had.
“Thank you, My Mistress.”
He felt a light touch on his forehead, reminiscent of the kiss she’d laid there all those weeks ago. Letting her subdued light bathe him for one last moment before retiring, he nodded respectfully, then ducked into his tent. Tigran appeared to be already asleep next to his sister, and she didn’t look far behind.
Looking fondly at them, he smiled before turning to tuck into his own bed. With fourteen years in the legions, he still had another eleven to go before his contract was completed, assuming he wasn’t wounded and discharged or killed. It would be a long time before he could think about starting a family, even if he wanted to. Some of the men had women and children that followed them from base to base when they weren’t making war. Signing the contract with the legions didn’t stop one from starting a family, just from a contractual marriage. Some had taken lovers among their comrades. He’d not been interested in either option, not while he was fully focused on his career, but caring for the Armenians filled a hole inside he hadn’t known was empty.
He was an only child, and his cousins had moved away when his aunt remarried. Since Ariazate and Tigran had been placed in his care, he found his concern and affection for them growing until he spent nearly as much time worrying about them as he did the legionnaires under his command. Tomorrow would be another day to be put to the test. If he did well, he’d get those under his care through it to another night of sleep. If he didn’t…
Lucius watched their small scouting party return to the grove of trees where they hid. Off in the distance was the bridge Tiridat had mentioned the day before. While they’d waited for the scouts to return, Lucius had ordered a quick meal of cold rations. Shoving the stopper back into his waterskin, he returned it to its place. The scouts had passed their outer line and were jogging toward Lucius, having handed off their sweaty mounts.
“Centurio,” Optio Venextos said, saluting.
“Optio. What’s the word?”
“The bridge looks clear, no unusual traffic. No guards.”
“Good. Grab a quick bite and some water. Then take a fresh mount and lead an advanced party ahead to secure the far side.” Lucius patted the optio on the shoulder, the steel bands of his lorica clanking lightly, and went to see if any of the other scouts he’d sent in other directions were back yet.
He hadn’t known what to expect at the bridge, but even now that he knew, it didn't settle his nerves. There were too many things that could go wrong.
After Lucius got the all clear from the other scouting parties, he organized his column of a hundred men, two children, and over half again as many horses and got them moving toward the bridge at a ground-eating canter. The optio and the men he’d taken with him had kept the bridge clear of any incidental traffic, so that when Lucius and the rest of the cohort blasted across the bridge, they swept out in advance to continue scouting. Lucius gave them another ten minutes before ordering the cohort to slow. The horses were still fresh and ready, and he didn’t want to tire them out in case they really needed their speed later.
He looked to the east, eyeing the nearby mountains. Now that they’d made it over the bridge, they could melt into the mountains again if they needed to. After a couple hours, Lucius ordered a dismount so they could walk their mounts. In a couple hours, they’d approach the Temple of Gorneae, and he wanted his horses ready to run.
“Zati, have you ever seen the temple before?” Lucius asked.
She nodded. “We passed through about five years ago.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What’s it look like?”
“Tall and colorful, columns. It looks like the temples Hellenes build. It’s pretty.” She shrugged. “It’s not a proper place for Mihr.”
He didn’t ask why. Mihr was a god of her people; he didn’t need to pry into her feelings.
“You should face Mihr in the mountains with his golden rays falling on your face and air so thin your lungs hurt.” A flash of serenity passed over her face before it returned to her normal sightly perturbed expression. “What do you believe in, Roman? Your Roman gods taking up space on a Hellene mountain?”
He shook his head and smirked at the young Armenian woman’s taunt. She knew he wasn’t Roman. “I’ve paid honors to my gods in their hills and groves, in the high places of light in Albios where I hope to go when I die and in the dark depths of Dubnos whence I came. But I try to be respectful of all gods when I’m passing through their lands.”
“No. What do you believe in?” Her eyes bored into him.
Instead of answering glibly, he thought about it as they walked their horses. The first image that formed in his mind when he went looking was the divine face of Selene and the calmness that accompanied it. Then he saw the faces of his mother and father, then the men marching with him, then his own face. Furrowing his brows, he opened his mouth to speak but clacked it shut. There was a reason he’d been selected for this post and why’d he’d earned the promotion he had.
“I believe in the goddess of the moon, Selene. I believe in my parents. I believe in my men, and I believe in myself.” He risked a look over, catching Ariazate’s face with her eyebrows raised high on her forehead.
“Why the Hellene’s goddess of the moon and not your Roman or Gaulish gods?” Her tone had drifted to curiosity instead of her normal sardonic voice.
“I’ve met her. The others I haven’t. That’s not to say I don’t believe in the others, but when you’re confronted with the reality of a goddess in close personal proximity, it has an effect.”
She looked like she was about to say something sarcastic, but the earnestness in his face must have stopped her. Instead, she nodded respectfully. “Anyway, it’s a nice enough temple, but I did not feel my gods are in it.”
“We’ll see soon, I guess.” He turned his head toward the optio. “Let’s mount up. I think they’ve had enough of a breather.”
“Aye, Centurio. Legionnaires! Mount up.” The optio leapt into his saddle.
He was curious to see Gorneae and who he might or might not meet inside. Syphax had told him to be wary when mixing up with gods, but here he was riding to a temple as directed by a goddess. Oh, he was mixed up with gods alright, right up to his neck.
ELEVEN
“I hope the priests have a place for us to stay. That sun is too close to the horizon without a camp set up and ready,” the optio said, looking optimistically at the fortress appearing on the horizon as they rode up the valley winding into the east.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucius replied. “Give me two tents worth of men and send for Pater Tiridat. Hold the rest of the men ready.”
“Usual watch?”
Lucius nodded. “No sense being stupid.” He turned to the two Armenians youths and waved them forward. “You two are with me.”
Once he had his sixteen and the three Armenians, he rode forward, leaving the optio in charge of the rest of the cohort. The pater claimed he could get them entrance to the fort if it was shut to them.
When they approached the gates, they found them wide open and unguarded. Holding his fist up, Lucius halted his party and listened. The absence of noise chilled more than the mountain wind whipping around him. Under him, his horse must have picked up on his nervousness and danced. He reached down and stroked her neck, though it didn't seem to help either of them.
He pointed to one of the men. “Get Venextos and tell him to leave a party to hold the gate, then follow us in with the rest of the men. We’ll be heading straight to the temple.” Lucius nudged his mare forward, though she pranced to the side, not interested in going through the gates.
The fortress had been destroyed sixty years ago by the Romans, then rebuilt with Roman gold, but the streets were abandoned as they rode through. In the growing shadows of the sun as it threatened to set, Lucius saw ominous smudges on the ground and along walls. He couldn’t tell if they were shadows or something else. The rest of the horses picked up on the nervousness of Lucius’s mount and danced, snorted, and occasionally threw their heads. His men weren’t immune to it either, and hands drifted closer to their weapons. The eerie lack of sound caused any disturbance in the silence to draw hasty looks and narrowed gazes. When the shadow of the temple loomed in front of them, Lucius wanted to feel relief, but instead, his dread grew.
