The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (46 page)

They reprovisioned in Drobeta and left early in the morning, trying to catch up with the Legion that was pursuing the Goths and the Princess Ingund. They rowed past tall cliffs that seemed to be trying to squeeze the river closed. “The Iron Gates,” said Austinus.

“
What are they gates to?” Javor asked. The way that the mountains on each side plunged into the river was striking. He could hear the current swirling and splashing against the grey rocks on each side.

“
A figure of speech. It’s a gate for the river through the mountains.” Austinus gestured left and right: “The Serrorum to the north and east, and the Balkans to the south and west. Once we get past the narrow part, the land opens up into the great plain of Pannonia.” His tone changed. “What do you know about your great-grandfather, Medvediu?”

Javor watched a hawk spiralling higher and higher over the cliffs that looked like they were dipping their toes in the river.  “Not much. He died before I was born.” The river narrowed as they rowed upstream.

“
How did he happen to come by that magical dagger?”

“
I’m not sure. I told you he was in the Legions. He fought in the Persian wars. My mother always told me that he killed a giant in the Caucasus and took it from him.”

Austinus nodded. “Yes, that is the old story.”

“
What do you mean?” Behind Austinus’ shoulder, the sun was getting lower. Black against the light and the clouds, high over cliffs, more hawks circled. They almost seemed to be dancing in the air, or fighting.

“
It’s an old legend: giants live in the far-distant mountains and have fantastic weapons. A legendary hero slays one and brings back treasure. Tell me, did your great-grandfather bring anything else back? Gold coins, perhaps? Cups and plates of gold and silver? Diamonds the size of your fist?”

Javor shook his head. “Nothing but the amulet—at least, nothing I ever heard about.”

The galley slowly rounded a bend of the river and, ahead, tall cliffs pressed closer. Javor could hear the galley’s captain exhorting the slaves to greater efforts as the current got stronger. High above, the hawks were wheeling, spiralling higher. One made a sudden dash into the mountains, flapping its wings.
Is that a tail? Is that—no, it can’t be.
But for a split second, Javor thought he had seen the dragon—his dragon, the one that had followed him down from the north, the one that had stolen his dagger. But then, it was gone, hidden by the craggy slopes.

“
What’s wrong, Javor?” Austinus asked.

“
Nothing. I thought I saw something. But it’s gone, now.”

Austinus looked at Javor carefully, then patted him on the shoulder and left him alone the rest of the day.

They kept going, slowly. Gradually the river widened again and the current slowed, and the crew returned to rowing. The guards’ captain, a fair-haired Goth named Alewar with a huge moustache, kept peering out at the north shore. “Never can tell when the Avars will show up,” he growled once at Javor. “This land has been infected by evil.”

Theodor joined them at the rail. “At one time, when the Empire was at its apex, this river was called the Ister,” he said, gazing at the empty fields. “It was crowded with boats and barges that traded up and down its length, and people tilled the earth on both sides. It was a rich land and a rich waterway.”

Now, it was empty. Javor hadn’t seen another vessel on the river since Drobeta. There were few farms, and those only on the south, formerly Roman side.

The river bent toward the north, and the mountains receded on both sides. “Pannonia,” the captain announced. “Keep a sharp eye out!”

Days went by in dull routine; Javor sat by the railing, thinking. The others from Constatinople delighted in the opportunity to talk yet more. Even Malleus became almost chatty. They came to towns, large ones with substantial ports. “Singidunum,” the captain said one day. “Used to be a Roman town. Now it’s in the control of the Avars.”

They docked and took on more provisions; Austinus paid the river tolls and pressured the captain not to tarry. They rowed on the same day, spending the night anchored in the middle of the river with at least three men standing watch all the time. They sailed again in the morning, rowing in the middle of the stream even though the current was strong there. Javor could see the slaves sweating in the midday heat. He felt sorry for them, but knew he shouldn’t say anything for fear of making their situation even worse. He was just glad when they could take a break.

The river’s course wound and twisted, but gradually was turning toward the north.
Actually, the river’s turning more southward; we’re going upstream, so it seems like it’s turning north.

One day, they reached another substantial city. “Aquincum,” said the galley’s captain, Treon, a stocky, bald man with a bushy black beard. “We really need to rest here. My crew need to stretch their legs.”

Austinus agreed; he wanted to ask for news about the legion they were following. They put into dock and tied off.

Javor found Aquincum, a former provincial capital, almost as impressive as Constantinople itself. The port had stone piers and great jetties, and what seemed an immense number of boats and ships. The docks were jammed with people and carts and animals loading and unloading. Behind were great stone buildings, warehouses and basilicas and temples. But the guards on the walls and towers were not legionnaires; they were Goths and Avars with plate-mail armour and recurved bows. Javor couldn’t look at the Avars without feeling angry.

“
Calm, my boy,” said Theodor in his soft voice. “Let’s get something good to eat and drink.” He took Javor to a tavern near the port and paid for a good meal and a cup of ale—a drink he hadn’t had since leaving home.
It’s been nearly a year.

By the time they got back to the galley, Theon was reloading his slaves and his mate was supervising the loading of more food, wine and water. Austinus had also returned and called the others around him.

“
The Legion passed by here four days ago. So we’re falling behind. They must be hard-pressed, and frankly I’m surprised they didn’t meet any resistance from the local troops. They must have come to some kind of understanding. But no one knows anything about the raiders that passed through here—or they won’t say, at any rate.

“
In other news, the Avar Khagan, Bayan, is reportedly north of here somewhere with his army. So it’s probably a safe bet that they’re heading for him.”

It didn’t reassure Javor that his dagger was still ahead of them. But something about the way his amulet rested against his skin made him feel that they were on the right course.

That fine spring morning, as the sun warmed Javor’s face, he couldn’t believe there was anything evil around. He heard birds sing. A dragonfly buzzed past, looking for bugs to eat.
I’m going back home,
Javor thought, for the river had turned northward again.

Austinus wandered over to the deck and stood beside Javor, looking ahead, upriver. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he asked eventually.

“
Do you know why your religion is so much more unpopular—” Javor began.

“
I think you want to say ‘less popular,’” said Austinus indulgently.

“—
it’s because it’s just too complicated. I mean, compare it to Christianity. Their religion is simple: God created the world, then created Man, and Man sinned, so God sent His Son to save us. See how simple?”

Malleus wandered over. He seemed to be in a better mood than Javor had ever seen him. “Ah, yes, but Christianity is calculated to be as appealing to the broadest swath of the population as possible. Even their central mythology was appropriated from the Egyptians. Osiris, the Egyptian god of the dead, died and resurrected three days later. Conquering death, he became the judge over the dead, and his righteous followers also become immortal. Horus, his son, is the god of the sky—see the connection?”

Javor’s self-assuredness evaporated. “Don’t the Christians believe the story of Jesus is true?”

“
Of couse they do. But don’t you see the parallels between the Egyptian myth and the Christian one?” Malleus said.

“
Both stories are attempts to explain the underlying truth of the entry of the
Christos
into the material universe,” Austinus said.

“
See? That’s what I mean!” Javor interjected. “The Christians’ story is easy to understand. Jesus died and rose again. But your
pleroma
which emanated all these spirits—”

“
Aeons.”

“—
which themselves emanated yet more generations of Aeons, lower and lower, until you get this Demiurge, which is not good, and which created the world and the people and the animals in it, and then more and more and lower and lower emanations until you get to Archons—well, you see how much more confusing it is?”

“
Yes, Javor, it is more complex, but the universe is not necessarily simple, is it?” said Austinus.

“
Can you blame people for wanting it to be simple? For most people, it’s hard enough just getting enough food to eat and making sure your children aren’t freezing in the winter.”

“
Yes, it’s understandable. But the simplest explanation you have doesn’t answer all the questions we have. That’s why we are Gnostics—we are seekers of knowledge. For that is the true way to salvation. Javor, are you happy to live in ignorance?”

“
What do you know?” Javor asked, sudden fire in his voice. “You talk about these ‘emanations’ and ‘aeons’—but have you ever seen one? How can you know about the pleroma—have you seen it?

“
I never believed in monsters or dragons or spirits. I thought they were stories told to scare children so they would eat their cabbage or go to bed early. But then I saw one. I saw how it killed my parents. I killed it. And I
saw
a dragon. I saw it kill men in armour, the best men I have ever seen. And I killed it.

“
So I believe in dragons and monsters now. But as for your ‘sophia’ and ‘pleroma,’ sorry. Aeons, too. And the Christians and their wonderful, friendly and all-loving god—well, if you see the first sign of that, let me know.”

Javor watched the hawks circle. He noticed that there seemed to be a lot of hawks circling somewhere upstream of them. Curious, he watched the big birds. Every so often, as the galley slowly made its way upstream, more birds would join the circling flock.

“
Austinus?” Javor asked, watching the wheeling birds. “Hawks and vultures don’t travel in flocks, do they?”

“
What?”

Theodor joined them by the boat’s rail. “Never. They’re gathering because there’s a lot for them to eat on the ground.”

Javor noticed a grey cloud, low on the trees, rising from a spot just around the river’s bend. “There’s a fire on the bank,” he said.

Horror came into view as the galley slowly made its way upriver.  Javor impatiently waited for more of the far bank to come into view; but soon he wished that he couldn’t see.

The ground on the northern bank was blackened, the trees blasted and withered for a mile around. Smoke rose from hundreds of burned logs and other things that Javor didn’t want to name. Among that was the legion. Men’s bodies were strewn and stacked, shattered, torn—parts of bodies, twisted limbs and grinning heads. Dead horses sprawled among them, limbs broken, bellies slashed or heads crushed.

The smell was unbelievable. Javor and Austinus leaned over the rail and vomited into the river. The oarsmen had stopped rowing and most of them were throwing up, too. The boat began to drift on the current.

Finally, Javor raised his eyes again. “There!” he called, pointing to a spot on the bank.

A tiny group huddled on the shore. The survivors.