On the third day since they had set camp, Marcus sat just inside the door to the tent, turning a wax-sealed missive over and over in his hands. A sheet of soft papyrus, folded over twice, he noted. It was something important – the seal itself proved that, as it bore the symbol of the dragon, the eagle, and the rose. It also must have taken some doing, getting the letter to him here. They had been moving almost constantly since the last battle, after all, and their movements had been in response to the unpredictable movements of their enemy on the other side of the frontier. This letter had to be about something big, and Marcus did not like it. If he were being reassigned, the letter would have gone to his commanding officer, and the old clerk would have called Marcus in to discuss it. The same thing would have happened if he had been promoted or fired or court-martialled. Of course, it was possible that, whatever this was, his commanding officer had been informed as well. It was just that the look of the letter made Marcus sick to his stomach.
Finally, he slid his thumbnail under the wax seal, breaking it. He carefully unfolded the sheet, and began to read. In a moment, his heart was pounding in his chest and his face had grown pale. Then he crumpled the sheet of papyrus and dashed it to the floor.
~*~
Mulberry had gone with Aurelia to look at the cavalry division’s horses. The child would see them and kick her little feet with excitement, grinning and babbling, spot of bright sunshine on a dull day. It made Mulberry smile to see it. She enjoyed working with the baby, and no one was cruel to her, Marcus had been honest about that. And there was some joy in her life, like in the baby’s reaction to the horses. Perhaps being a slave to Marcus was not so bad. Now she carried the still ebullient child into the tent, where she stopped, suddenly.
“Sir?” She asked.
Marcus was sitting with his head buried in his hands. There was a crumpled sheet of paper just out of reach, sitting in the middle of the floor like it was taunting him. Mulberry knelt beside Marcus, placing Aurelia on the floor. Aurelia reached both hands out to Marcus, making her ‘pick me up’ face, but he did not react.
“Is everything okay?” Mulberry asked, picking up the letter from the floor and smoothing it out. She wished she could read his language, as well as speak it. The letters looked nothing like the Estavacan script she was familiar with. These letters were small and neat and totally foreign to her. She could have been holding the paper upside down, or sideways, for all she knew.
“What does it say?” she asked, drawing Aurelia up onto her lap.
“What does it say?” Marcus repeated. He looked up at her, his eyes oddly rimmed with red.
Mulberry nodded, and Marcus sighed heavily. He took Aurelia from her, holding the baby quite close.
“It says that my older brother is dead.”
Mulberry did not know what to say.
“He’s dead, don’t you see? My older brother. Somewhere – somewhere in some place that I’ve never even heard of. Of pneumonia. Pneumonia, and he’s legate in the diplomatic corps, and more of a soldier than I’ll ever be. In some stupid place called Arcius, that I've never even heard of. How is that fair?”
“I – I don’t know,” Mulberry said uncertainly.
“You know what else isn't fair? He has a kid,” Marcus said, looking down at Aurelia, who reached up and patted his face with one small hand. “A kid with no mother, because she died, years ago. How is that fair?”
“Oh,” Mulberry said flatly, not sure what Marcus wanted of her. She looked down at the floor, awkward and red-faced.
“You don’t understand,” Marcus said, “He was my big brother.”
“At least he only died,” Mulberry said, “No one killed him.”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
Mulberry reached for Aurelia, but Marcus turned his shoulder towards Mulberry, keeping her from taking the baby.
“Let me hold her,” he ordered.
For a very long while, Marcus held Aurelia in his arms, and Mulberry watched them. The baby was warm, and soft, and alive, Mulberry reasoned, and maybe that was what Marcus needed. Eventually Aurelia sighed, nestled against Marcus’s chest, and actually fell asleep, as he rocked her and the occasional tear tracked down his face. Mulberry wanted to ask if she could put the baby to bed, but she was fairly sure Marcus still wouldn’t let her take Aurelia, so she sighed, and continued to watch him.
After a long while, Marcus began to talk.
“Gaius is – Gaius was great,” he began, “I’m eight years younger, and when I was small, he’d watch over me. He was always brave and strong and I wanted to be like him. There was a tall tree in the village near our house. All the boys used to dare each other to climb it. When I was about seven, I decided I would, and I did. But what I didn’t realize was it was so high, and that it’s easier to climb up than down. I remember how it looked higher than a mountain, from up there. I swear, the people looked like ants, even though there is no way the tree was tall enough for that to be possible. I just froze, up there, for what seemed like hours. But Gaius came for me. He climbed up there, and put his hand on my arm, and told me I could do it. And then he climbed down with me, one step at a time, telling me where the next branch was, guiding me. He made sure that I knew where each branch was, before I put my foot on it. And he made sure that I knew he was right there, that I could lean back against him if I stumbled, and he would keep me from falling. He would keep me safe. Because that's the kind of person he is. Was.”
Mulberry did not know what to say. Marcus didn’t seem to notice, however, as he went on, saying, “Still, the past few years, he and I – we’ve fought a lot. Over a lot of things. I didn’t think much of his wife. Not because of her personality or anything like that, but for - well, a stupid reason I won't go into now,” He moved his hand through the air between them as if he was sweeping the idea away.
“And I never could be as good as him, at anything. He was always my father’s favourite. We grew up, and we grew apart. But still, he was my big brother, and a good guy. He didn’t want me to join the army, but he still wrote my letter of recommendation.”
“And this message,” he went on, gesturing to the slightly crumpled paper in Mulberry's hand, “They want me to go fetch his ashes. As if it were that easy, that simple. As if it was just an errand, like sending a kid out to buy cheese and bread for a quick supper. As if I really could bring him home. Instead, it’s just bringing home what’s left of him to our father. And bringing it home to his own son, too.”
Mulberry took the letter and tucked it into her sleeve, hiding it, as Marcus continued, “It doesn’t even say if they wrote my father. I might be the one to bring him the news that his golden boy is dead. And he'll be left with me and my sisters, for all the good the three of us do him.”
Marcus lapsed into silence again, then stood up, handing Aurelia to Mulberry.
“I am going to go get a drink,” he said, “I need one.”
Mulberry stood in the doorway of the tent and watched Marcus disappear into the night. She cuddled Aurelia close. I hope he comes home alright, she thought. It turned out, she reflected, letting the tent flap drop, that she cared about that idiot Marcus.
YOU ARE READING
The Baby and the Battlefield
FantasyA baby? On a battlefield? Marcus is a clerk in the Imperial army. When he finds an abandoned baby on a battlefield, he has no idea what to do with her. His best friend is no help; he thinks Marcus is a sucker for taking the kid in. The slave who end...
