Lucius shook his head. “No. Not anymore. I have new duties now that supersede those.”
He’d thought about it long and hard over the winter. If the extent of the danger was so great that gods had reached out for aid, then the task that’d been laid upon him would likely subsume the rest of his life.
“I know this is your homeland, but you will never be safe here. As long as Roma lies to the west and Parthia to the east, Armenia will be the game board for their power struggles. My mother and father are good, kind people. They’ll make sure you have a safe haven. It won’t be a throne in Armenia, but, and I don’t mean to be cruel, you and your brother would never sit safely on one, not against the might of Roma or Parthia.”
Ariazate nodded. That was the only acknowledgment of what he’d said. Together they sat in silence, drinking wine and letting the dancing flames stave off the last vestiges of the bitter mountain winter.
Ariazate hadn’t answered Lucius’s invitation. He’d guessed she’d chosen to ignore it and planned to stay in the mountains and risk it, but a couple weeks later, she asked to him to take a ride with her. Riding in silence, Lucius admired the austere beauty of the mighty Caucasus Mountains.
When they found a half-frozen waterfall, Ariazate stopped and turned her horse so she faced Lucius. “Lucius Silvanius Ferrata. My brother Tigran, direct heir to Tigran the Great, and I wish to request sanctuary with your family.”
Lucius nodded, a soft smile on his face. “I offer you the sanctuary of my family. You shall be as my sister and brother. All that is mine is yours.”
Ariazate, who’d seemed rigid all day, relaxed. “I guess I’m going to have to learn more of your tongue.”
“My father speaks Latin as well, though Gaulish will certainly serve you best. We have a long trip and plenty of time on our hands. I’m glad you and your brother chose a new path, Zati.” Lucius moved his horse closer so their legs touched. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead.
“Lucius, I’m tired of being a beggar princess. I want a life where I don’t have to run for my life and live on the kindness of others.” She seemed too weary for one her age.
When Lucius had been her age, he’d had few real worries save for his desire to join the legions. He’d had a home and parents. He’d never been a slave to anyone or chased because of an accident of birth. With all she’d been through in her short life, she’d earned her weariness. He hoped a new home would bring her hope and happiness. Some part of her would probably always be wary of her enemies hunting her down, but this gave her and her brother the best shot of a real life.
After Lucius accepted Ariazate’s request, they returned to the village. Along the way, he told her about his parents and his home. His mind drifted to the forest by their house and the bluebells he’d spent so much time lying in as a boy. By the time they made it back to his home, the season would likely be well past for the bluebells. It would be good to see his parents again before he returned to the legions to forge his future as a servant of Mithras.
After Lucius and Ariazate returned to the village, the decided that it would be best to keep the secret of their heritage hidden from his parents to protect all involved. They could disappear into the west and truly seek a new destiny.
When they judged the passes safe enough to travel, Lucius, Ariazate, and Tigran packed up and headed north, leaving Mylitos who’d decided he’d rather stay with the village woman he’d fallen in love with. Though the man was breaking his oath to Roma and the legions, Lucius didn’t have the heart to make him go. Mylitos could simply be one more casualty of their expedition. There had been so many of them already. Lucius took his signaculum so that he could be recorded as dead, the last man besides Lucius from their mission.
A few of those most loyal to the heirs of Tigran the Great traveled with them to act as guides and to trade in Colchis. From there, Lucius and his new siblings would book passage on a ship heading west and make their way to Gaul and Belgica.
Still using Syphax’s orders and the aegis of Trajan, Lucius was able to move swiftly, using the resources of the legions to procure horses and lodging. As they approached the village of Lucius’s birth, his young friends grew increasingly nervous, as did Lucius. It had been nine years since he’d last seen his parents. That morning, the last of the journey, he’d made sure his equipment gleamed. He’d returned to wearing his Roman gear as soon as they’d reached the coast of Colchis where his rank could get them passage on a ship heading west.
Today, he wanted to show up with his centurion’s crest and all the phalera. When they crested the hill that led down to his parents’ property, he straightened in his saddle.
“That’s it,” he said.
The gardens had matured in the near decade since he’d last been there. They’d added a few more buildings during that time as well. The Roman-style manor house was far bigger than the little hut he’d grown up in with his mother, before his father returned from Britannia.
When they made it up to the house, servants took their horses without asking questions. As the preferred vendor to the local legionary forts, legionnaires seeking his father were no doubt a common site on the estate. So far, he didn’t recognize the faces of any of the servants. They’d added a few more since he’d departed.
A woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, stepped out and greeted him. “Centurio, how can I help you? Are you looking for Gaius?”
“Yes, but also for Verlia, if she’s home,” Lucius replied.
The woman nodded. “Please, step into the house. I’ll fetch Gaius for you, Centurio.”
Lucius stepped into the house and took off his caligae, pulling on a pair of house slippers that were left by the door for guests. Ariazate and Tigran followed suit.
Lucius hadn’t taken his helmet off yet when an older woman nearing her fifties stepped into the room.
“Welcome to our home, Centurio. Are you here for my husband?” Verlia said.
Lucius reached up, his hand trembling, and untied his helmet, pulling it off. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get the words to come out.
“Lucius? Is that you?” Verlia’s eyes sparkled, unshed tears glistening in them.
Lucius handed his helmet behind him but wasn’t sure who took it. Moving toward his mother her pulled her into a tight hug, tears of joy falling on his cheeks.
“Mother, I’m so glad to see you.” Lucius kissed her forehead.
Verlia reached up and ran her hand down his cheek and jaw. “They said you’d disappeared in the mountains of Armenia. That…that…”
She stopped speaking, the tears getting the better of her.
“I did, but my friends,” Lucius gestured toward the young woman and adolescent boy behind him, “saved me. We got snowed in and had to stay in the mountains until the roads were safe to pass.”
Lucius helped his mother to a chair. Ariazate and Tigran stood nervously out of the way of the door. A giant of a man with wild silver hair still sprinkled with swaths of the red strode into the house. The limp he’d had the last time Lucius had been home was more pronounced, requiring a walking stick.
“Son?”
Lucius nodded and stood. His father stepped forward and pulled Lucius into a bone crushing hug, then held him back at arm’s length.
“Look at you. Are those all your phalera?”
“These are most of them,” Lucius replied.
“Look at your armor… It’s magnificent. I’ve never seen the like.” Ambeltrix said. “Where did you get it?”
