Part Three
“Spared One Fate to Face One Worse”
A shout caused Crispus to start, freeing him from troubled dreams. Instinct drew him into a defensive crouch as he reached for his sword. But his hand found the scabbard empty. Confused, he paused, straining to listen, but only an eerie silence greeted him. Glancing about, he noted the stonework of a bridge close by. A memory returned.
We fought to take the bridge.
Their numbers were sparse.
We flooded it with ease.
But something teased Crispus’s mind, and he wrestled with pinning down what he had forgotten.
We had carried the day.
Our victory, sure.
Lost in thought, his gaze drifted to the bridge. An inscription marked the distance to Rome. The words surprised Crispus. He appeared to be on the other side of the river, the side the enemy defended. He didn’t recall making it across the bridge.
This is all wrong. Something stopped us. Surprised us.
Crispus clamored to his feet, desperate to understand. A ghastly scene confronted him. Countless Roman and barbarian bodies lay twisted and torn everywhere he looked.
There were suddenly more of them. How? They came from nowhere.
Despair seized Crispus, fearing he alone survived until he remembered the shout that woke him. Someone else lives, he thought, straining again to listen.
“Valens!”
Despite his anticipation, the volume of the cry surprised him. Whoever called had to be near. Crispus hesitated, unsure of which direction the sound came from. Guessing, he lurched forward until a sharp pain pulled his feet out from under him. He wrenched his eyes to find his ankles clasped in a heavy chain.
“Valens!”
Crispus flailed on the ground, searching for the survivor in vain.
“VALENS!”
Crispus felt his mind slipping. The voice grew louder.
“Where are you? Show yourself!”
Only his ragged breath and pounding heart answered, taunting him.
“Perhaps, I am dead, and these are the shades of hell before me.”
Laughter, lively and bright, resounded from behind. Crispus turned to behold a beautiful man lounging atop a barbarian corpse. The man hadn’t been there before.
“Who are you?”
The stranger laughed again.
“Why laugh? Look at the horror about you!”
“What are mortals to one such as myself.” the man said.
“You are a god, then.”
“Indeed.”
“May I ask your name?”
“All you need to know, Crispus, is you are the cause of this slaughter.”
“What?”
“You heard me, mortal. All this death is your fault.”
“How?”
“That detail doesn’t concern you.”
“Why?”
“An appropriate question. The answer will come in good time. My task is nearly over. I merely linger to amuse myself.”
“So, it was you calling out?”
“No.”
“Who then? Do you know where they are? I can’t find anyone alive.”
His question elicited more laughter, and Crispus grew angry.
“What is so funny?”
“You! And your desperate search for a voice, unable to recognize it as your own.”
“I do not understand.”
“Pay attention, mortal. I will show you.”
The god stretched an arm as if fetching something slung on his back. Crispus gawked, seeing a bow made of light materialize in the god’s hands. With a pluck of his hand, the god pierced him with a radiant arrow.
“VALENS!” Crispus screamed.
His hands flew to his chest, but he found no wound and felt no pain.
“What is this word I utter? Please, be merciful! What have I done to incur your wrath?”
“Would you be fortunate if it were I you had offended.”
“Who then?”
“My mistress is a jealous god, and you have belittled that which is most dear to her. Behold the results.”
“We outnumbered the barbarians. How did their numbers multiply?”
“Rome is mighty but blinded by hubris. I easily supplied the savage beasts with the means to hide their numbers.”
“Why not slay only me?”
“You live to learn your error.”
“The barbarians litter the field too. Why?”
“Once engaged, it is difficult to contain the god of war’s lust for blood.”
“Faithfully, I served Mars.”
“No mortal meets his needs for long. But rest assured, plenty of fools are hungering for the glory found in battle. Death is always the price for such honor.”
“And now I am abandoned to live in dishonor.”
“Does life mean nothing to you, mortal?”
“Please, give me the means, and I’ll do it myself. A signifer dies with his men. It is cruel to let me live.”
“Honor is more important to you?
“It’s all mortals have. Without it, life is meaningless.”
The god picked up a sword from one of the dead and tossed the blade at the soldier’s feet. Crispus snatched the sword up.
“You have shown me kindness beyond measure. Thank you.” Crispus said.
The soldier didn’t know what reply he had expected, but the god’s smirk surprised him. It unnerved Crispus as if knowing a trap lay ready but unable to determine where and when.
“Your mistress…she wants me to learn something. I do not pretend to understand the ways of the gods, but surely you risk garnering her displeasure.”
The god grinned, shaking his head.
“I will do this. Honor must be restored.”
“Oh, I know you will.”
With a curt nod, Crispus angled the blade toward his heart, closed his eyes, and fell.
He felt no pain. Opening his eyes, Crispus watched the tip of the sword rise and fall as it rested gently against his chest. He had caught himself, stopping the fall. He tried again but failed even to prick his skin.
Crispus searched himself, satisfied to reaffirm he didn’t fear death. A part of him longed for it. But, he sensed something more substantial preventing him from ending his life. The feeling confused him. He couldn’t explain why, but Crispus knew something or someone laid a stronger claim to his heart than his fear of dishonor.
“Who is your mistress? What have you done to me? Release me!”
The god hummed merrily, drawing his bow to smite Crispus with another magical arrow.
“VALENS!” Crispus screamed.
Dropping to his knees, bewildered and defeated, he searched his mind to uncover the meaning of the word he felt compelled to speak.
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