Empire of Dragons (28 page)

Rufus had been pulled in to shelter beneath the
testudo
. He was alive, but needed urgent medical care.

Daruma, who had managed somehow to find a hiding place, came out with his servants. Their faces were grey with fear and only with great circumspection did they dare to wander among the bodies of the fallen enemies.

Daruma shouted, ‘Hey, over this way! One of them is still alive!’

Dan Qing approached, pressing pieces of cloth to his bleeding wounds. ‘He must not die,’ he said. ‘We’ll make him speak and he’ll tell us everything.’

Daruma ordered his men to seize the wounded man, but as soon as a couple of them got close, he snapped his jaw shut and a trickle of dark liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth. He was shaken by a spasm and, in just a few moments, was dead.

Daruma prised open his mouth and extracted the shattered shell of a quail’s egg. ‘Poison,’ he said. ‘This man won’t tell us anything.’

‘P
OISON
?’
ASKED
M
ETELLUS
.

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Daruma. ‘There’s no other explanation.’ He approached another dead man, the one that Rufus had run through in mid-air with his javelin, and opened his mouth, extracting the fragments of another little black-flecked eggshell. ‘They keep this in their mouths,’ he said, showing it to the others, ‘sealed with wax. It’s full of poison. The slightest pressure from the tongue will break it and the poison goes to work immediately. If these men have a secret to protect, there’s no chance of them revealing it. Dead men, as we all know, don’t speak.’

‘Flying Foxes,’ muttered Dan Qing behind them.

‘What does that mean?’ asked Metellus.

‘Let’s leave here as soon as we can,’ said the prince. ‘This is no place for conversation. We’ll talk later.’

‘But you are wounded,’ objected Metellus. ‘And one of my men has lost a lot of blood.’

‘Fine, take care of him,’ replied the prince. ‘But be quick. And send someone to patrol the surroundings. There may be more of them.’

Martianus went to work on Rufus. He trimmed the edges of the wound with scissors, washed it out with palm wine and began to sew it up with a needle and thread.

‘Your medicine is very primitive,’ commented Dan Qing, seeing Rufus wince in pain under his comrade’s instruments.

‘We’re doing what we can,’ Metellus shot back, irritated. ‘We’re not in the most favourable circumstances and I don’t think there’s a hospital nearby.’

Daruma had already motioned to one of his men, who, after a number of low bows, approached the prince and began to uncover his wounds. They were long cuts but not deep ones, caused by the enemy’s slashing swords. Metellus picked one of them up and examined it attentively: it was much longer than his
gladius
and had a double edge. The hilt was decorated in ivory and precious stones. Those strange signs that looked like magical symbols were carved into the blade. The grade of steel was excellent: the marks they had left on the Roman swords and the cuts that had scored their shields were proof of that. When he tried to swing the weapon, however, he felt the weight of the blade putting considerable strain on his wrist, confirming his belief that carrying one’s own weapon was the best idea: for Metellus his
gladius
was the metallic extension of his arm.

In the meantime, Daruma’s men had surrounded Dan Qing, creating a sort of curtain which prevented the Romans from seeing what the Chinese doctor was doing. When Rufus was hoisted on to his horse with his arm in a sling, Dan Qing was ready to resume the journey as well, apparently no worse for wear. He seemed only a bit tired.

They proceeded at a walk, but in full battle gear, carrying their heavy square shields.

Metellus drew close to Severus. ‘Nice work,
faber
.’

‘Thank you, Commander.’

‘The
testudo
worked. The shields held. A technique they weren’t expecting.’

‘I didn’t think an attack would come so soon. I have an idea I’d like to try. At the next rest stop, we’ll get back to work.’

Metellus put a hand on his shoulder and took his place next to the prince.

As they advanced, the voices of the forest became more numerous and varied: birds, monkeys, animals of every sort. Once they saw a serpent with a spotted skin slithering up the branches of a tree. The first night after the Flying Foxes’ attack, they even heard the low growling of a tiger.

Daruma’s men looked at each other with terrified expressions.

‘What are they afraid of?’ asked Quadratus, watching them tremble like leaves. ‘A tiger is only a striped lion and I’ve seen plenty of lions brought down.’

Daruma smiled. ‘Have you ever heard of man-eaters?’

Quadratus’s confidence seemed a bit shaken. ‘I suppose that if a tiger is hungry, he’ll eat what he can find, and if that something happens to be a man . . .’

‘You don’t understand. Man-eaters eat men and nothing else. Once they have tasted human flesh, there’s no going back. And man just happens to be the easiest animal to prey upon.’

‘That depends,’ replied Quadratus, spinning his sword under Daruma’s nose.

‘My drivers have seen lots of tigers. And they recognize the man-eaters by their long, low growl, like the one you just heard. If I were you, I’d tell your boys to stay alert tonight. We can’t keep fires burning; we don’t want other Flying Foxes to be able to locate our position. We may . . .’ He broke off as he saw Dan Qing approach Metellus and begin to speak to him. He was visibly moved, as though he was witnessing an event of exceptional importance.

‘I owe you my life,’ said Dan Qing. ‘This time I had no escape.’

‘You saved my life as well,’ replied Metellus in Chinese.

‘How is this possible?’ asked Dan Qing.

‘My men are the best combatants there are, as I told you.’

‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean, how is it that you speak my language?’

‘Daruma taught me, and I practise with the Chinese porters that we hired when we started down the mountain.’

‘That’s what your endless chatter was about! I never would have thought that a barbarian could learn our language in so short a time.’

Metellus did not allow himself to be provoked and Dan Qing continued: ‘You and your men . . . I must admit that I did not believe you capable of fighting off an attack by the Flying Foxes.’

‘There weren’t too many of them and they weren’t familiar with our way of fighting. This isn’t the first time you’ve been surprised by what you’ve seen. It seems that you’re often mistaken regarding those who surround you.’

Dan Qing did not react to his provocation either and said, ‘In the beginning, I told Daruma that I didn’t want you with us, that you’d only be a hindrance . . .’

‘You may have been right.’

‘I was wrong.’

‘Will they be back?’

‘I’m afraid so. They move and act as small, independent groups. So we don’t know when another attack might take place.’

Metellus had begun speaking in Persian again, feeling that he had not adequately mastered this new language yet, and asked, ‘How did they find us? We’ve always marched at the bottom of a narrow valley, thick with vegetation.’

‘From the sky. Remember when your men glimpsed the shadow of that bird? They weren’t seeing things. That’s the reason these warriors are called Flying Foxes. They glide through the air on wings of silk pulled taut between bamboo canes, using the movement of the wind like a ship does with its sail.’

‘That is incredible . . .’ replied Metellus in amazement. ‘Where we come from, we have an age-old legend about a man who flies with artificial wings. It ends badly: ultimately, he plunges into the sea.’ He fell silent for a little while, then added, ‘I’ve never seen a sword wielded in that way, or men vaulting through the air as if they were weightless, like those warriors. And like you, after all. How do you do it?’

‘You barbarians from the West are educated to strengthen your bodies. We learn to educate the mind, and the mind goes where it likes.’

‘Pretty words, but I still can’t understand . . .’

‘You saw those men vaulting through the air,’ replied Dan Qing, staring straight in front of him. ‘As they go through those movements, high becomes low, and low, high, and then low again . . . That’s the whole secret. That is, nothing is absolute: what is on the right is, at the same time, on the left, and vice versa. If a man is able to convince himself profoundly of this truth, he will be equally at ease in the air as on the ground . . . But you are right, these are nothing but words. Prolonged, intense meditation is required to find the way.’

Metellus reflected in silence, trying to comprehend how such a doctrine could influence the movements of one’s body, and he felt bewildered, projected into an uncertain, confused dimension.

‘In any case,’ continued Dan Qing, ‘I too have a question to ask you. What energy drives you and your men to fight against enemies much quicker and more expert than you are, masters of a superior military art, without giving in to panic and discouragement? If you do not know the way and cannot balance the natural forces within you, how can you win?’

‘It’s called
virtus
,’ replied Metellus, looking him straight in the eye.

Dan Qing did not even try to repeat the word. ‘What is it? What does it mean?’

‘It means “virile force”, but it’s difficult to explain the true essence. It’s the force that drives us to give our lives for our families and our homeland, if necessary, without hoping for anything in return except the memory of our honour that we leave behind.’

‘Today you risked your lives for me. I’m not part of your family or your homeland.’

‘We gave our word and that’s enough. This is
virtus
as well.’

‘And it’s enough to keep that force alive?’

‘
Virtus
is a conviction, an image of yourself in which you believe blindly, from the time you’re a young boy. You learn it from your father, who learned it from his. A man who possesses this virtue knows that no obstacle is insurmountable, no trial too arduous, no sacrifice too great, not even giving up one’s life. Only a man who possesses
virtus
can bear the weight of
disciplina
, the spirit which keeps our soldiers together, which makes them a single unit, a rock. This
disciplina
instils the strength of an entire contingent in each single man, even when he is alone and surrounded, even when anyone else would give in to the inevitable.’

Dan Qing did not take his eyes off Metellus for an instant, while he was speaking. When he had finished, he said, ‘I need you and your men in order to reconquer my empire, which has been usurped by an impostor.’

‘I’m afraid that conquering an empire might take more than ten men, no matter how brave,’ replied Metellus.

‘And yet we will succeed. We will, I can feel it. You must help me. There’s no one else I can trust. I must re-establish law and order. I must restore peace. I must reunite my country, which is now split into three parts. Reflect on my words during the time that remains before we arrive at the castle of my master, the Monastery of the Whispering Waters. Think about it, I beseech you . . .’

Metellus was struck by his words, nearly of supplication, words that he never thought he would hear from the prince’s lips.

‘If you do as I ask, there will be no limit to your reward, and that of your men. If you decide to help me, they will join you, I’m certain of it. They would follow you to the ends of the earth.’

Metellus sighed. ‘That’s precisely why I choose to exercise my power over them as little as possible. I am responsible for their lives and their destiny, and this responsibility weighs unbearably on my shoulders.’

‘Why?’ asked Dan Qing. ‘They are soldiers and you are their chief. It’s what you want that counts.’

‘No, you’re wrong. It’s their lives that count. The wealth of a commander is the lives of his soldiers.’

‘I do not understand you, but I accept your way of thinking. In any case, once we’ve reached the castle of my master, you’ll be free to leave. If you go, I will remain grateful to you and remember you for the rest of my life. From the monastery I will contact the forces still faithful to me and we can bid each other farewell. If, on the other hand, you decide to stay, my gift to you will be a new destiny, so great that you cannot even begin to imagine it.’

Metellus bowed his head in thought, then focused his amber eyes on the jet-black eyes of the prince. ‘How far is your master’s monastery from here?’

‘Eight days of marching. Days of unceasing peril, I’m afraid.’

‘We will escort you there. And then, with your permission, we will leave with Daruma. He knows the return road and has promised to take us back. Back home.’

Dan Qing sighed. ‘If that’s what you want, you can go with my blessing and that of my ancestors. But let me hope for the next eight days that you may change your mind . . . Now, for having protected me from the assault of my enemies and for agreeing to escort me to my final destination, I wish to name you and your men my personal guard. I will call you the Red Demons, and you, Commander, will have a new name, in my language. This will make you part of the Middle Kingdom, Zhong Guo, and a member of my family.’

‘I do not deserve so great an honour, Prince,’ replied Metellus, ‘but I accept with gratitude, also on behalf of my men.’

‘What is the name of your family?’ asked Dan Qing.

‘Aquila,’ Metellus replied in Latin. ‘That is the name of my family.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘It is the largest and most noble of the birds of prey. For us Romans, it is the symbol and the emblem of our combat forces, and it is the animal sacred to the king of all our gods.’

‘Then,’ Dan Qing began solemnly, ‘your name will be Xiong Ying, Resplendent Eagle.’

Metellus replied, ‘I will wear this name with pride for as long as I live in your land, and I will keep it in my heart, when I have returned to my homeland, for the rest of my life.’

Dan Qing inclined his head and Metellus responded with the same gesture.