The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (42 page)

“
Why, she will be married to the son of a senator or proconsul or one of the Emperor’s high officials. Why do you ask?”

“
Well, she didn’t look very happy. Not like a bride going to her wedding.”

“
She is more than just a bride on her way to a wedding, Javor. She is a princess, a representative of her nation. Her happiness is not at issue.”

“
Well, it doesn’t seem very fair.”

“
Fair? Her marriage may stabilize relations between her nation, whatever it is, and Rome. Is it fair that young Gothic or Slavic men should die at the Legions’ swords? Is it fair that Gothic and Slavic towns should be razed and children orphaned and enslaved?”

Javor was shocked. He had never dreamed of the way that international politics worked.
Princesses marry foreign princes to guarantee a peace treaty.
He stared at the floor while that idea settled in his brain. “So, is she a prisoner?”

“
Oh, without question. She is no more free than her countrymen who are even now being sold on the slave block. But she will be far more comfortable. Her only duty will be to produce sons for her husband.”

Austinus sat down on a wooden bench. “Tell me, Javor, among your people, does a young girl choose her husband?”

“
Well, not on her own. The boy—the man—is supposed to be the one who chooses the wife and pursues her. He’s supposed to ask her father permission to marry her. But if a girl likes a boy, she has ways to let him know. And then the parents get involved. Sometimes too much. I know one boy who liked a girl, but his mother didn’t like her mother and wouldn’t let him marry her. But usually, the girl likes the boy she marries. And she at least
knows
him.”

“
Ah, yes. That is the difficulty for the girl. I imagine it is the source of her greatest discomfort: the fear of what she might find when she meets her husband-to-be for the first time.”

Javor thought about Danisa in her multi-coloured robes and in her wooden cage, about her sad, sad face and big green eyes. So much like Elli, yet so different. “Where will she live?” he asked, and noticed that the sun was getting low. Verros would be screaming at the novices in the kitchen to get the evening meal ready.

“
I do not know. In some well-defended palace in the Caenopolis section, I expect. Comfortable, prestigious as befits the intended bride of a senator’s son, but easy to defend so that she does not escape.”

“
When will the wedding happen?”

Austinus shrugged again. “Probably not for some months. There will be a lot of preparations and celebrations along the way of a royal wedding.”

I wonder if I could break her out of there? No, that’s crazy. Impossible! How would I get her out of the city? And it would cause another war!

He realized then that he had fallen in love with Danisa long before that day by the pond. And he also realized that he really had no way of knowing how she felt about him.

Chapter 26
:
Examining the dagger

The next morning, Nikos fetched Javor immediately after breakfast, asked him to bring his dagger and led him to a square outbuilding beside the main Abbey building.
I always have my dagger. And my amulet.

The inside of the square building was brightly lit by large windows almost the full size of the northern wall. Shields and armour hung on wooden racks, spears tied together like sheaves of wheat stood near the walls, swords hung from pegs on the walls, helmets lined up like severed heads on shelves with other metal, wooden and leather gear that Javor couldn’t identify. At one end, a forge threw off a little heat.

In the midst of the armour, weapons, frames, tables and benches were the
Comes
Austinus with Philip, Malleus and another man Javor had never seen before. He was tall and thin and completely bald; the corners of his eyes and his mouth drooped slightly so that he looked continuously sad.

“
Ah, good morning, Javor!” Austinus said. Behind him, the bald man looked at Javor with a slightly guilty expression. “So good of you to come so early. As you know, I have been looking into your mysterious dagger—or trying to. I have not managed to get very far.” He turned to the bald man. “So, I have called on my good friend, here, an expert on metals and metal-working and a fellow Gnostic, although not a member, per se, of our Order. Javor, this is Pello Hephastios. Pello, Javor, the young man from the North I was telling you about.”

Pello nodded and smiled sadly. “Hello, Javor. A pleasure to meet you.”

“
And you,” Javor replied, remembering his manners. “What is this place?”

“
This is the Order’s armory,” said Malleus. “Not many people are allowed in here.”

“
Only the Initiates,” said Austinus. “But everyone here knows we have an Armory. While it doesn’t seem to be in keeping with the Lord’s message of peace, it is necessary to keep one for our own defence in case of an emergency, or if the Emperor calls upon us to do our duty for defence of the Empire. Malleus is our Chief Armourer.” Malleus bowed ironically.

“
Now, my boy, would you let me see your dagger again?” Austinus asked. Reluctantly, Javor drew it out and put it in the
Comes’
hand. Austinus watched it catch the early sun’s light, then passed it to Pello.

“
Well, Javor, you have a certainly fascinating dagger,” Pello said.

“
Fascinating in what way?” Javor asked. He didn’t like this strange man handling his great-grandfather’s dagger. His amulet started to tingle.

“
Well, there’s the script along both sides, that’s obvious.” Pello had a deep yet scratchy voice that made him seem even older than his bald head already did. “But the metal itself is also baffling. It’s not steel nor iron nor any other material that I have ever seen before.”

That surprised Javor. “Really? It looks like steel.”

Pello held the blade out, careful not to point it toward Javor. “At first glance. But even an ordinary blacksmith could see the difference. It’s an old blade and you tell me it’s been in a number of battles. I even saw that gouge that you put in the stone floor of the Council Chamber.” Javor’s remembered his duel with Malleus that first day in the Abbey. “Yet the edge is sharper than anything I have ever seen. And look at the surface of the blade—not a scratch or mark of any kind. Tell me, Javor, do you spend much time cleaning and sharpening it?”

“
Um, no,” Javor stammered, embarrassed. “Actually, other than wiping blood off it, I’ve never done anything to it.”

Pello nodded. “I didn’t think so.” He picked up a block of sharpening stone and, to Javor’s alarm, scraped it along the face of the dagger. He looked close and then showed it to Austinus, Javor and Malleus. “See? Harder than flint, which makes it harder than any steel I’ve ever seen.” He then scraped the stone along the edge, back and forth several times, straight along to intentionally dull it instead of sharpen it. Then he cleanly sliced a sheet of paper that lay on a table.

Pello gave the dagger to Javor and brought him to a Legionnaire’s steel breastplate that was strapped to a wooden frame. “Javor, try to pierce that breastplate.”

Javor drew deep breaths to summon as much strength as he could. He raised the dagger over this head in both hands, jumped and swung the dagger down with a yell. There was a metallic shriek and the armour split in two halves that clattered to the floor.

“
Good God,” said Philip quietly.

“
What
is
it made of?” Austinus wondered.

They tried again with another piece of armour, which Javor found even easier to pierce. Then he swung it against a Legionnaire’s sword, shattering it. Javor didn’t even feel like he had hit that hard. He walked around the armoury, stabbing at greaves and shields, slicing and piercing them at will until an alarmed Malleus made him stop.

“
Unbelievable,” said Pello, looking carefully at the blade again. It still shone in the morning light. “Not a scratch, not a mark. The edge is still perfect.”

By then, it was almost noon. Austinus called for a break and told Javor to put the dagger away. Older monks brought lunch: cold chicken and fresh bread, washed down with sour wine.
I sure would like to drink more of that wine from the initiation ceremony.

The older men talked about legendary magic swords and knives. There were apparently many stories from Persia about adepts with magical swords. Austinus reminded them of ancient Greek legends of heros like Perseus who had magical swords of bronze. Philip recited a tale of a Sarmatian prince who pulled a sword out from being embedded in a mountain and became invincible. And Pello told a story he had heard about a warrior who found a sword made by giants, and cut the head off a monster that was impervious to other weapons. “But then the sword dissolved into mist,” he concluded.

“
That sounds like my sword!” Javor exclaimed, drawing looks of surprise and doubt. “I told you that Photius and I took weapons and some treasure from Ghastog’s cave.” The men nodded. “Later, my village was attacked by a dragon—the dragon that attacked us as we came out of the cave, the dragon that Photius warded off with his glowing staff.”

“
You didn’t tell us that the dragon attacked your village,” said Philip.

Javor’s face felt like it was burning. “I’m sorry. It’s hard. The day after I returned from Ghastog’s cave with Photius, the dragon attacked. I had a sword from the cave, and when the dragon was right over me, I swung it with all my might. I drew blood, but the blade dissolved into smoke. Only the handle was left.”

The four men looked at him intently, but Javor couldn’t guess what they were thinking. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Philip asked after a long pause.

“
Because the hetman, all the villagers, said I had to leave. They thought I was bringing danger to them. They said…” He fought tears down. “…they said that monsters were attacking because of me, that they’d be safer if I was gone. So they gave Photius and me some food and clothes, and sent me out.” He sniffed.

“
And you said the dragon followed you?” Austinus asked. Javor nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break.

Austinus poured him more wine and called for the monks to take away the dishes and leftovers. Javor was glad for the distraction. He took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. He hadn’t realized how deeply his exile had affected him. Nor how much he missed his mother and father.

Malleus brought out a long, heavy-looking shield. “There is a legend this was made by Archimedes himself centuries ago, but I doubt that,” he said, setting it up in another wooden frame. “It is the strongest shield we have. It’s backed with oak and plated with the strongest, best steel I have ever seen. The secret of its forging escapes the best smiths in the city (no offence, Pello), and no one has ever been able to pierce it.” Javor could see, however, that many people had tried, as the dull grey surface, decorated with a plain round boss in the centre and swirls of iron around the edges, was dented and scratched in many places. “Now, Javor, I want you to try piercing that.”

“
Malleus, are you sure? Such an ancient shield must be very valuable!”

“
It’s fine, boy. No one actually uses it—it’s far too heavy to be much use in a real battle. Take your best swing at it.”

Javor looked at the shield again, searching for a weak spot.
I won’t be able to do anything to this.
He cocked his arm back and swung hard from the right side. The blade clattered on the shield, making it ring, but bounced off. Javor planted his feet firmly on the floor and stabbed. The blade rang and skittered along the shield’s face, but didn’t penetrate. He moved his feet a little farther apart and took the dagger in both hands, raised it over his head, took a deep breath, and then with all his might, brought the dagger down.

The edge bit into the shield and sliced lower, then stopped with a jarring shudder. Javor had to let go. The blade was deeply embedded in the side of the shield. He tried to pull it out, but his hands slipped off. He tried again, wiggling the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried twisting, pushing, levering it up and down, but the dagger wouldn’t move.

The men gathered around. “Unbelievable!” Malleus marvelled. He tried to remove it, too, but had no more success than Javor. Pello and Philip both tried in their turn, then Javor and Malleus tried together.

They spent hours struggling to remove the dagger from the shield. Some of them would hold the shield and others the dagger’s handle, and pull in opposite directions; they laid the shield on the floor and stood on the dagger’s handle; Javor held the dagger while Pello hit the shield with a hammer. Then, despite Javor’s fretting, he hammered on the dagger.

Nothing worked.

The sun was getting low when Austinus called a halt. They were all sweaty and exhausted, covered in dust and oil. Malleus locked the dagger-embedded shield in a large cabinet and Austinus told them to wash up for dinner. “We’ll try again tomorrow,” he promised.

Javor went to bed feeling very uneasy, almost naked and defenceless. He lay awake for a long time, but sleep would not come.

When he saw dawn’s grey outside the eastern windows, he pulled on a robe, a scarf and thick socks against the chill. Careful not to wake the others, he crept back to the armoury. Inside, he could barely see the gear and was afraid of stepping on something, but the big windows let in a lot of the watery grey light. He could see the iron shield on the frame, his dagger still embedded in its side. A shrouded man stood beside it.

“
Domestikos?” he said.

Austinus turned. “Javor! Well, you certainly know how to move quietly.”

“
What are you doing here so early?”

“
The same thing as you: looking at your dagger.” A candle flared to life on its own.
So he can do the same tricks as Photius.
“Look closely: even at this, there is no mark, no scratch on the blade.” Javor looked: he was right. The blade shone in the candle’s yellow light, the only mark on it the strange foreign characters. They both looked at the blade while the light outside slowly grew stronger.

Javor took the handle in both hands and tugged, pushed, levered up and down and side to side. He leaned on in with all his weight, then squatted under it and pushed up with all his might. He put the heels of both hands at the butt of the handle, bent his knees and pushed up, then sprang up and nearly jumped down on it. He repeated that over and over until he was covered in sweat and his grip started to slip.

The dagger didn’t move.

“
Enough, Javor,” Austinus said. “Go bathe and have breakfast. And come again this afternoon to the Council Chamber. We must plan our strategy.”

“
Strategy for what?”