For several seconds, neither man moved.
Arthur stood in the middle of the street while the soldier stared at him as if he had seen a ghost.
The expression unsettled him more than the armor.
Fear was understandable.
Suspicion was understandable.
Even hostility would have made sense.
Shock did not.
The soldier looked genuinely disturbed.
Arthur glanced behind himself.
There was nobody there.
The soldier was definitely looking at him.
"Right," Arthur said. "This is becoming increasingly concerning."
The soldier frowned.
Clearly, the words ant nothing to him.
Arthur sighed.
Language barriers had always been annoying.
Usually they did not involve Roman legionaries looking as though the dead had returned.
The soldier spoke again, slower this ti.
Arthur recognized a few sounds. Not enough to understand the sentence, but enough to confirm his growing suspicion.
Latin.
Real Latin.
Not a reconstructed academic version.
The realization sent another wave of unease through him.
For years, Latin had been a subject.
A language preserved in books and inscriptions.
Now it was simply the language people used to buy bread and argue with their neighbors.
The soldier gestured for him to follow.
Arthur considered refusing.
Then he looked at the sword.
Following seed like the wiser choice.
They left the main street and entered a quieter area of the city. The crowds thinned. The noise faded. Stone buildings rose on either side of the narrow road, casting long shadows across the ground.
Arthur took the opportunity to study his escort more carefully.
The man moved with the confidence of a veteran. Nothing about him seed particularly remarkable at first glance, yet there was an obvious difference between him and the civilians Arthur had seen earlier.
Discipline.
Even while walking, he remained alert.
His eyes constantly scanned the surrounding streets.
The habit looked deeply ingrained.
The soldier suddenly stopped.
Arthur nearly walked into him.
The man turned and pointed at his own chest.
"Marcus."
Arthur blinked.
The soldier repeated the word.
"Marcus."
A na.
Finally, sothing simple.
"Marcus," Arthur said, nodding.
The soldier seed pleased.
Then he pointed at Arthur.
Arthur understood imdiately.
Introductions.
At least so social customs survived the centuries.
"Arthur."
Marcus frowned.
Arthur repeated it.
"Arthur."
The reaction only beca stranger.
Marcus looked confused.
Then concerned.
As though the answer had been wrong.
The soldier pointed at Arthur again.
More insistently this ti.
Arthur sighed.
"Still Arthur."
Marcus shook his head.
Then, very slowly, he spoke a single word.
"Gaius."
Arthur stared at him.
Marcus repeated it.
"Gaius."
The na ant nothing.
Arthur waited for additional context.
None arrived.
Marcus seed to expect recognition.
When none ca, the soldier’s concern deepened.
For a mont, neither knew what to do.
Then Marcus tried again.
He pointed at Arthur.
"Gaius."
Then he pointed at himself.
"Marcus."
Arthur understood the implication.
Marcus thought he was soone nad Gaius.
Unfortunately, that explanation only raised more questions.
Arthur pointed at himself.
"Arthur."
Then he pointed at Marcus.
"Marcus."
Finally, he spread his hands as if to say, There. Problem solved.
Marcus looked unconvinced.
Very unconvinced.
The soldier rubbed his forehead.
Arthur suddenly found the gesture comforting.
Human frustration, at least, appeared tiless.
Marcus took a deep breath.
Then he raised three fingers.
Arthur watched carefully.
The soldier pointed upward.
Then toward the ground.
Then back toward Arthur.
Arthur frowned.
Three days?
Three weeks?
Three years?
Marcus repeated the gesture.
Three fingers.
The sky.
The ground.
Arthur still didn’t understand.
The soldier seed to realize that.
After a brief hesitation, Marcus crossed his arms over his chest.
Like a corpse.
Arthur froze.
Marcus repeated the motion.
Three fingers.
Corpse.
Arthur.
The aning hit him imdiately.
His stomach tightened.
"No."
Marcus nodded.
The soldier pointed at Arthur again.
Then made the gesture once more.
Three days.
Dead.
Arthur’s mouth suddenly felt very dry.
Marcus wasn’t saying Arthur had died.
Marcus was saying soone else had.
Soone Marcus believed should be standing where Arthur was now.
Soone nad Gaius.
Arthur leaned against a nearby wall.
His thoughts raced.
If Marcus was right, then there were only two possibilities.
Either Marcus was mistaken.
Or Arthur was not in his own body.
Neither explanation was remotely comforting.
Marcus studied him carefully.
The hostility Arthur had expected never appeared.
Instead, the soldier seed worried.
Confused.
Perhaps even concerned.
That surprised Arthur.
The man had every reason to drag him to the nearest authority.
Instead, he looked as though he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Marcus suddenly stepped forward.
Arthur tensed.
The soldier reached toward his face.
Instinctively, Arthur pulled back.
Marcus stopped.
Then he pointed toward Arthur’s left temple.
Only then did Arthur notice the scar.
His hand rose automatically.
A thin line ran through the hair above his ear.
It felt old.
Not fresh.
Marcus nodded.
Then pointed to the scar.
Then to Arthur.
Then made the sign of death again.
Arthur’s pulse quickened.
The scar belonged to Gaius.
Not to him.
For the first ti since waking up, the reality of the situation truly settled over him.
This wasn’t his body.
It wasn’t his life.
Everything around him belonged to soone else.
Soone who had apparently died three days ago.
Marcus lowered his hand.
For several monts, neither spoke.
The silence felt strangely heavy.
Eventually, Marcus made a decision.
He gestured for Arthur to follow.
Again.
Arthur didn’t move.
Marcus pointed down the street.
Then at Arthur.
Then down the street again.
The aning was clear enough.
Co with .
Arthur hesitated.
Following ard strangers into unknown locations rarely ended well.
On the other hand, he was trapped in an ancient city, couldn’t speak the language properly, and had no idea where he was.
His alternatives were limited.
"Fair point," he muttered.
Marcus obviously didn’t understand.
Arthur followed anyway.
As they disappeared deeper into the city, one question refused to leave his mind.
Who had Gaius been?
And why did everyone seem so certain that he should be dead?
Reviews
All reviews (0)