Raven's Curse

28 - Lucius

Aventicum, Civitas Helvetiorum, in the year of the consul suffectus Lucius Naevius Surdinus [autumn of 30 CE], the funeral grounds by the western gate

Low clouds obscured the sky, and the grass glistened with the tiny droplets left by a fine drizzle. A raven cawed on the black branch of a leaf-less tree next to the common funeral grounds. The bird wasn't disturbed by the dark smoke billowing above the pyre and just hopped to another branch when the wind drove a thick waft in its direction.

Lucius watched the raven, wondering if it might be a messenger of the gods. Of Apollo, perhaps? Wasn't he the god with the raven? And hadn't Cinna insisted she needed to pray to Apollo the night she was murdered? He shrugged and pulled his coat closer around his shoulders. It was just a bird, probably hoping to snatch some food brought by the mourners for the last meal at the funeral.

A cold gust bent the limbs of the trees and stabbed like sharp needles through Lucius' damp clothes. The blaze of the pyre intensified, and the smoke drove tears into his eyes. Embarrassed, he blinked them away to greet Centurion Gaius Vitellius, who crossed the crowd of mourners to join him, his coat covered by shiny drops of moisture.

"Ave, Centurion."

"Ave, Lucio, may the gods watch over your steps with favour." This greeting was far gentler than anything Lucius had heard from his superior before. Did the centurion suspect how hard Marius' death had hit him?

The Gaius Vitellius stopped by his side and studied the pyre. "He was a good friend, right?" The older man's voice was level, not giving away how the centurion felt about the miles' death. He might well see him as a deserter, Lucius thought, but he was too bruised and exhausted to play games.

"Yes, he was. My oldest friend and a loyal brother in arms." Sour guilt churned in Lucius' stomach. "I wish—I wish I hadn't told him about Cinna's murder the day we met in the Vindonissa camp. I thought it was my duty, but if I had kept my knowledge to myself, he might have forgotten his love in time and still be alive."

"I doubt it. And who knows, perhaps life would have been more miserable for him than death was, in the end." The centurion rubbed his clean-shaven chin. "I heard a rumour Mario was still alive when you found them?"

Lucius nodded, blinking. "Aye, he was."

It hurt to remember the bloody scene, but he opened his mind and let the images flood his brain. This place was called the field of mourning, and wasn't it the perfect moment to share memories of the deceased, be they good or bad? "They had fought to the death, him and Flavius Otacilius Parvus. I wonder how he convinced the nobleman to accept his challenge. No reasonable person agrees to a duel with a legionary. All they do is train to fight, to wound, to kill. Anyway, Otacilius was beyond help when we arrived, and one of his slaves was dead, too, Mario's sword embedded deep in his gut."

The gory scene flashed before Lucius' eyes and he swallowed the bile rising in his throat before he continued. "The other one had his intestines spilled all over the place. He tried to hold them in, already glassy-eyed. It was obvious we couldn't save him. Mario himself had a deep gash from a dagger in the back of his thigh and was bleeding out fast. They must have attacked him together, one striking from behind. Pio and I tried to stop the gush. To no avail."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes—he had a few minutes left, but I understood little of what he said over the other man's last moans." Lucius frowned. "He was delirious, babbled about a curse that had run full circle. And in the end, he just muttered paria paribus over and over."

"Like for like?" Vitellius raised his brows.

"Yes, that's what I understood. It's cryptic, but as Otacilius had been Cinna's husband, I believe Mario talked about revenge." The raven on the bare-limbed tree cawed and beat its wings. Did the bird try to confirm his theory? Lucius rubbed his watering eyes. Damn smoke.