"It would probably be advisable," said Sanctu-Germainios. "But be circ.u.mspect."

"I know: Olivia would kill me if I died again." Niklos ducked his head. "If I'm not back by midnight, look for what's left of me in the morning." He took a step back. "Where's your ice-eyed companion?"

"In the women's dormitory," said Sanctu-Germainios. "There has been an outbreak of fever there."

"The fire won't help that," said Niklos, and departed. He walked quickly to the horse-trough and drenched himself with water, then went to the main gate and slipped out through the warder's door to the outer wall of the monastery. Above him on the ramparts, a few of the guards still remained, but most had gone to fight the fire; Niklos kept in the shadow of the wall, not wanting to take an arrow in his flesh because a soldier thought he was an enemy.

The outer walls were more than half a league around, but Niklos covered the distance to the fire quickly. Nearing the shallow end of the lake, he saw the first of the flames gnawing away at the standing logs; the fire crackled and spat as it reached pockets of resin in the newly cut trunks. Niklos peered through the smoke, glad for once that ghouls did not have to breathe very often. The trees nearest the lake had been cut down during the most recent rebuilding of the fortifications, and most of the underbrush had been cleared away as well, so there were no signs of the fire spreading-at least not yet, he reminded himself. He approached as near to the burning stockade as he dared, noticing that the wind was blowing toward the buildings inside the walls rather than toward the forest. "That's something to be pleased about," he said aloud, and continued down toward the lake, wanting to wet himself down again before he continued his survey. Wading into the shallows, he crouched down and began lifting handfuls of water and pouring them over his head and shoulders. He rose slowly when he was soaked again, and looked around the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of men waiting for the breach in the wall to widen sufficiently for them to storm the defenses. He caught sight of what appeared to be a mound of rags at the edge of the lake, a dozen strides from where he stood. Frowning, he started toward the heap, and halted as he heard an agonized voice come from within the pile.

"G.o.d's Will. G.o.d's Will." The voice cracked, and the ma.s.s of rags lurched.

Niklos moved quickly, going to the fallen man, who lay supine, half in and half out of the water; Niklos was aware as he did that this could be a trap, that the man at the edge of the lake could be one of many others bent on catching him unaware. He felt for the dagger in his belt, prepared to use it. He reached the ragged figure and saw that his monkish garments were dreadfully burned, as were his hands and face. After he had taken a little time to look around, wishing as he did that he had a vampire's night-seeing eyes, he bent down next to the man. "You're badly hurt," he said, slowly and distinctly. "Do you understand me?"

"G.o.d's Will," the man whispered.

"Do you hear me?" Niklos persisted.

"I hear," the man answered. "The fire . . ."

"Yes, there is a fire."

"Is it still burning?"

"It is," Niklos answered, fearing the man's eyes had been damaged; his eyebrows were singed away and most of his face looked as if the skin had been melted.

"Is the wall destroyed?"

"It's . . . damaged," said Niklos.

"Oh," said the man, his tone remote.

Making up his mind, Niklos said to the man, "I'm going to pick you up and carry you into the monastery where your burns can be treated."

"No. No!" The man thrust out with his scorched hands; he writhed desperately as Niklos took hold of him.

"I promise you I will hurt you as little as possible," he said, and dragged the man upright as he wailed. In another abrupt motion, he slung the man up and over his shoulder, his arm holding him in place.

"No! G.o.d's Will! G.o.d's Will!"

Moving slowly so that he could maintain his hold on the squirming man, Niklos made his way back toward the main gate, trying not to listen to the howls the man made. Getting through the warder's door was difficult, but after two tries, he succeeded, emerging inside the walls to see that the flames were dying, and as much steam as smoke was rising from the outer wall. He started toward the old chapel, but slowed as Priam Corydon approached him with Mangueinic. "I saw no signs of Huns," he said as they came up to him.

"Then what's that?" Mangueinic asked, pointing to Niklos' miserable burden.

"I found him at the lake. He's badly burned."

"Let me look at him," said Priam Corydon.

"He's not a pleasant sight," Niklos warned as he lowered the man from his shoulder and helped him to stand upright.

Priam Corydon stared at the tarnished silver crucifix hanging from a braided leather thong around the man's neck; he made the sign of the fish. "Monachos Anatolios," he mumbled as if his lips had lost all feeling.

"Priam Corydon?" the man asked, c.o.c.king his head to hear.

"What have you done, Monachos Anatolios?" Priam Corydon asked, horrified. He studied the ruined face for some vestige of expression and found none.

"G.o.d's Will. Since you wouldn't do it, I have," he said, standing more erect as he spoke.

"You've killed us all," Mangueinic accused.

"G.o.d's Will," Monachos Anatolios said with apparent satisfaction, then fainted, falling to the ground before Niklos or Priam Corydon could reach him.

Text of a letter from Rugierus in Aquileia to Artemidorus Iocopolis in Constantinople, written in Greek on sanded linen with fixed ink and carried by the same ship that brought Rugierus to Aquileia, the Celestial Crown, and delivered thirty-one days after the letter was written.

To the most worthy factor Artemidorus Iocopolis of Eclipse Trading Company at Constantinople, the greetings and thanks of the bondsman Rugierus of Gades on this, the 27th day of July, in the Christian year 439.

My esteemed Factor Iocopolis, This is to inform you that I have arrived safely in Aquileia and am now staying at the estate of a blood relative of Sanctu-Germainios just outside the city. I am arranging for Captain Kakaios to carry not only this letter to you, but the sum of one hundred gold Angels as a sign of my grat.i.tude, and to recompense you for all the expenses you incurred in your superlative efforts to gain my release. Without your continued endeavors, I might have languished in captivity for years. If I am ever in a position to extend myself on your behalf, you have only to inform me and I will do my utmost to return to you the exertions you performed for me.

In a month I plan to leave for the former Province of Dacia in the hope of rejoining my master, at which time I will inform him of all you did on my behalf. No doubt he, too, will want to offer some token of his appreciation. I have heard, as everyone has, of the ravages of the Huns, and so I believe I may not locate Dom Sanctu-Germainios readily. My one consolation is that Bondama Clemens has sent her most trusted servant to find Sanctu-Germainios and provide him with his a.s.sistance, whatever he may require. That is as much comfort as I can hope for at this time.

At Cnossus we learned of a fever spreading from Egypt, one that is marked by lethargy, great thirst, and general pain. Alexandria has already inst.i.tuted measures against the fever by limiting public gatherings to religious services and confining all travelers to the foreign quarter of the city. I advise you to be on guard against this fever, and to warn the captains and crews of all Eclipse Trading Company ships about the disease, for it is said that half of those who contract it are invalided by it, or killed. If you suspect any ship of carrying this fever, do not allow its crew ash.o.r.e, and send a physician to treat those who suffer. I would also take care in sending ships to Egyptian ports, for fear of contracting the fever, and to report any information on the fever's spread. I know my master would issue such orders, so I give them in his name, certain that you will abide by them, for prudence if for no other reason.

I am deeply obliged to you, good Factor, Rugierus of Gades bondsman to Dom Sanctu-Germainios

6.

"The repairs to the outer walls are insufficient," said Bernardius, wiping his brow with the cuff of his pallium and looking out over the anxious faces in front of him. "And we haven't men enough to do what's needed to keep us safe and bring in the harvest; even if we abandoned all repairs, we'd have to employ the women and monks in the fields. Our numbers are too much reduced to do both. With the outer walls breached, and so few men to defend us, it would make taking this monastery easy for the Huns; they could slaughter us all." He studied the gathering of men crammed together in the available s.p.a.ce in the warehouse, hoping they grasped the increased peril they all faced. "I see no other course: we have to evacuate."

This was met with shouts of agreement and dissension, the noise rising until Neves shoved himself to the front of the gathering and bellowed for quiet. When the level of sound had decreased, he said, "Then I agree: we must evacuate, and quickly."

"If the Huns see more of us leaving, won't they attack sooner, knowing they would have an undemanding raid, a quick battle that they could accomplish without much risk to them?" one of the remaining men from Tsapousso asked.

"They may decide on such an attack, in which case we will very likely be over-run. We have lost almost a hundred people from this place in the last few days, four of them my own men. That shows how dangerous it is to remain, so I am willing to provide what protection we can to those who leave," said Neves. "But if we arrange the evacuation to be un.o.bvious, using hunters' trails, and taking only what is absolutely necessary, we might be able to buy a little time, enough time for most of us to get away. If we postpone the moment they-"

"We'd have to give the monastery the appearance of being still manned as fully as possible," said Imperus, one of Bernardius' soldiers. "The Hunnic scouts continue to patrol the ridges and crests around us, and they keep track of what happens in this place. If they notice the numbers here are lessening, they will attack sooner rather than later."

"They might wait until the monastery is empty, if they can get our harvest. Why put your troops in danger when it isn't necessary," said Luitpald. "Patras Anso, before he died, a.s.serted the Huns wouldn't fight if they didn't have to."

"That might have been so before we killed some of them," Bernardius countered. "Now they have blood to avenge. They'll demand blood for blood."

Priam Corydon rose and made the sign of the cross. "I pray that your evacuation plan will succeed, but I will not allow the monks here to be used in any way that abuses their calling. All of us renounced the conflicts of this world when we came here. The monks can work the fields and tend livestock, but they will not use weapons against other men, not even Huns. For their sake, we will not remain after the rest of you have gone, for that would leave us open to attack and reprisal. I am charged with protecting the monks in this monastery, and I refuse to sacrifice them for you."

More cries and cat calls greeted this declaration. The heavy heat of this mid-August mid-day had penetrated the warehouse, draining sweat and strength from the men, sparking rancor, shortening tempers, and stirring resentment and frustration. A voice rose above the buzz of under-voices. "What'll you do with Monachos Anatolios then?" Mutters of support accompanied his next questions. "Do you plan to protect him? After what he did to this place?"

There was an abrupt silence; Neves looked over at Mangueinic and then at Priam Corydon. "Yes. What will you do?"

From his place next to the door, Sanctu-Germainios spoke up, and though his voice was not loud, it commanded the full attention of all the men in the warehouse. "Monachos Anatolios is dying. The burns on his hands and face are too deep to heal and he has lost all feeling where the fire entered his flesh too severely; six of his fingers and one of his thumbs are gone. The lesser burns bring him agony that can only be alleviated with soporific anodyne tinctures, which are strong enough to be dangerous if taken too often." He had been using a dilution of blue lotus on Monachos Anatolios, his supply of syrup of poppies being nearly gone. "He is almost blind. I may have to remove the remaining three fingers to keep them from taking rot and spreading it to the rest of his body. Nothing else can be done for him."

"You could end his suffering," suggested a Watchman.

The susurrus of conversation grew louder, becoming an indignant roar of accord.

Bernardius held up his hands and called for quiet; when the noise abated, he addressed Sanctu-Germainios. "How long does he have left?"

"Not long. He could die tonight, or tomorrow, or in the next three or four days at most; I do not think he will survive longer than that."

"He should be killed for what he did!" one of the men shouted.

"He's willing to kill us-he should die for that!" another cried.

Sanctu-Germainios kept his tone neutral, not wanting to add to the volatile atmosphere around the men. "That will happen soon enough; he is far enough gone that half the time he is delirious, but at other times, he says he has restored faith to this monastery, and returned the fate of its occupants to G.o.d, in accordance with his duty as a Christian. Jesus, he says, did not turn from his death on the cross, and none of his followers should disdain what G.o.d decrees for him."

"What man can know what G.o.d decrees?" a monk asked.

"He is confident his suffering will bring him greater glory in Heaven, so he is at peace with what he did. He is convinced that he acted for the benefit of all the Christians in the monastery." Sanctu-Germainios folded his arms.

"More delirium," said Mangueinic. He cleared his throat and spat. "I propose that we make plans to evacuate this place beginning in two days and completing our retreat by the end of ten days. We will leave in companies of no more than twenty, using three of the hunters' tracks, and depart shortly before dawn."

"Sixty people a day will not be enough to evacuate all the refugees. You will need larger parties if all the refugees are to get away in that time. And what of the monks?" The question came from Niklos Aulirios. "Priam Corydon says he will not remain here when the rest of us are gone."

Priam Corydon rubbed his beard. "I believe it would be best if my monks and I left when the monastery is nearly empty. We will put on the habits of pilgrims, which should buy us a modic.u.m of safety."

"The Huns will be waiting," Neves warned him. "Pilgrims or not. And they may come before you leave."

"I've considered that, as well," said the Priam. "And I have a . . . a ruse in mind that may work. If G.o.d will forgive us this little deception, we might yet live to sing His Glory."

"And what deception is that?" Mangueinic asked suspiciously.

"I propose we fly the fever flag at the gate," Priam Corydon responded, so readily that it was apparent he had been thinking about this for some little while. "There are six monks and eleven refugees who have fever, so it is not completely false; it will be enough to keep the Huns from attacking, even if our numbers seem fewer. If the Huns' scouts have doubts about fever, they will probably hesitate coming too close, misliking the possible risk." He looked a bit uncomfortable at this, but he kept his poise. "It could make our position less precarious."

Neves laughed heartily. "Priam, you are a man after my own heart. The Byzantine army lost a great commander when you took the cloth."

Mangueinic slapped his thigh. "A clever dissimulation, and simple enough that it may well work. I am for giving it a try." He addressed Sanctu-Germainios, raising his voice to be heard through the renewed conversation. "Dom, what do you think? Will such a device work?"

"I think Priam Corydon is right: flying the yellow flag would put the Huns-and other travelers-on guard; a large fighting force is vulnerable to sickness of all sorts." He recalled the Babylonian and Egyptian soldiers laid waste by disease from contaminated water, and the Seventh Legion of Roma, losing one man in five to pustulant fever. "The Huns would be cautious if they were convinced that they would be in danger of spreading illness from coming here."

"Then is it settled?" Mangueinic asked, and grinned as the men sounded the affirmative. "We will spend tomorrow making up the lists of who will depart and when, and make the arrangements for where they will go. All of the dormitory guards will help to choose how much they will be allowed to carry with-"

"Are there guides enough remaining here to lead so many parties of refugees along the trails? You can't intend to let the refugees go off on their own, can you?" Niklos interrupted. "The hunters' tracks are unmarked beyond the paths through the trees, and not all of them lead to safety."

"He's right," Bernardius said, punctuating his agreement with a loud clap of his hands. "We don't have enough men who know the trails well. We will have to have those who do teach others how to find the way to Aquinc.u.m, Drobetae, Viminacium, Sirmium, Singidunum, and any other fortified town still in Roman hands. Otherwise the refugees may fall prey to more than Huns-there are robbers and slavers in the forests who can be dangerous, too."

"And many other refugees," added Niklos. "Desperate men who have lost all will not hesitate to take from other desperate men."

"Let each of you ask for volunteers to be guides, and have them meet tomorrow with the guides we already have," Bernardius exclaimed. "We must implement the first of our withdrawals the day after tomorrow."

"Everyone to go on foot but the injured and women with infants," Mangueinic added. "All children under six should have one older brother, or one parent to accompany them. We must be sure there is someone to carry the youngsters who aren't strong enough for long treks." He tried to ignore the aroma of ducks broiling for prandium; this meeting was more important than the mid-day meal.

"No group to have more than three such in it: injured, infant, or child," Bernardius said. "Otherwise it won't be possible to care for them."

"Do you truly think this will work?" Imperus asked Bernardius.

"I think we have a better chance to survive by evacuating than remaining here for the Huns to come. It is a risk to leave, but remaining is a certainty of our defeat. We've lost too many people to the Huns already." Bernardius cleared his throat. "This way, using the evacuation as best we can, some of us will probably survive. When the Huns return . . ." He left the rest to his soldiers' imagination.

"What if the Huns discover our evacuation plan? Everyone says there is a Hunnic spy in our midst, don't they?"

"There may be," said Neves, "but if we let that consideration stop us, then we will surely be killed."

"Find the spy!" Imperus shouted.

"That would waste valuable time, and undermine our efforts to spare as many of the refugees here as can be managed." With an emphatic salute Bernardius declared, "Carpi horam." He licked his lips. "At least we'll all dine well today."

"And there's new beer," called out one of the refugees.

"We must keep our evacuation uppermost in what we do," Mangueinic reminded them.

"Everyone!" Neves shouted. "Let's get our food. We can meet again this evening, and work out the details of our strategy."

Priam Corydon coughed discreetly. "I'll order Monachos Bessamos to inform the monks and determine when we are to depart."

"There is now one question we must decide before we organize our retreat," said Bernardius. He waited until he had the full attention of all the men, then said, "We must decide who is to be left behind."

There was a long, uneasy silence. Then Mangueinic asked, "What would that entail?"

"Trying to make it appear that the monastery is still occupied, that the refugees haven't left," said Bernardius, not willing to meet anyone's eyes.

"And if the Huns come?" The speaker was one of the men from Ulpia Traiana; he folded his arms as he waited for the answer.

"Whoever is left behind needn't wait to be killed. Once he sees the Huns are coming, he should not have to wait for an arrow in-If he can escape, he should." Color mounted in Bernardius' face.

"Do you think it likely that he-or they-could escape?" This from the novice Ritt. "It seems to me that anyone remaining here for very long will die."

Mangueinic glared at the young man. "It is a chance that such a man or men must be willing to recognize."

"But who will stay?" Imperus challenged.

In the quiet of the warehouse, Sanctu-Germainios said, "I will."

"And I," said Niklos.

Bernardius stared at the two of them. "You? Both of you?"