winter months and slaughtered them for their meat. They
depended on the forests to gather nuts and berries, medicinal herbs, and
firewood for kindling.
If, the
soldier suggested, the Valerians set fire to the forests and the grass the
sheep grazed on, the Eirini would be forced to submit for survival. The Emperor
delighted in the proposal and promoted the soldier in rank to execute the plan.
And that is how Valerius Maximus’s great-grandfather became the head of the
Valerian army.
When the
Eirini saw the Valerian legions with torches at the ready they rallied to
defend their land. The Valerians, however, determined on their course and
torched the straw-covered huts of their abodes, the grasses their sheep grazed
on, and headed for the forest. The Eirini women and children in the huts
perished in the devouring flames and the Eirini men were torn between fighting
to avenge them or trying to save their land. They fought on, but the fire
decimated their villages and turned their lush grasslands to a brown wasteland.
In village
after village it was the same, until at last after a summer of starvation the
Eirini sued for peace. The terms of the treaty were thus: the Eirini would
continue to raise their sheep and live on their land, but a tribute of
livestock and wool was to be delivered annually to the Emperor.
The treaty was
ratified; grass was reseeded, new trees planted, and now more than one hundred
years later, Eirinia was again a lush green land. The Eirini people had learned
enough of the Valerian language to be conversant, although they clung to their
own customs and manner of living.
Marcus glanced
at his master Cadeyrn. For several weeks the two of them had come out by night
to watch the flock. Someone had to protect the sheep from the wolves who roamed
after dark in search of tender meat. Marcus didn’t think a man’s life worth
endangering to protect a creature that could do nothing but eat grass.
When Marcus
had been taken from the slave galley, his eyes had been dazzled by the first
sight of a land so green he thought it must surely be a vision of some fantasy
world come to existence. Such an emerald verdure was undreamed of!
In time he
would come to know the mists that could roll in from the sea without warning,
transforming the familiar landscape into something out of a dream world, at
once terrifying and entrancing. He would come to hear the tales of strange
beings that walked in the wilderness, inducing the villagers to keep their
distance from the woods and be home by nightfall. How much was fact and how
much fantasy Marcus could not determine, since he never saw such beings with
his own eyes.
He was
transported to the village of Leith and informed that he would be required to
herd sheep. In return, he would be given two meals a day and provided with a
small corner of the hut of the family of Cadeyrn to sleep in. The two meals a
day both seemed always to consist of black bread, berries, nuts, and occasional
mutton. The corner of the hut was a space so tiny that he had to curl up in a
ball in order to recline. The floor was packed earth and always hard, cold, and
uncomfortable. He was provided with a blanket woven from wool, but he seemed
always chilled to the bone.
Marcus
remembered with longing his spacious bedroom at home; the large, airy chamber
with exquisitely tiled floors, the bed with its many blankets and cushions, and
the brazier that warmed and cheered his chamber. With even more longing did he
recall the ample meals that he indulged in so carelessly: mounds of luscious
fruit both tart and sweet, hearty meats with the juices running from them,
breads of a soft and dainty nature, and ices to cool one down on a hot summer
day. Would he ever taste such delights again?
Even more did
he miss the companionship of Felix, with his intelligent conversation, his
irrepressible sense of humor, and the friendly rivalry that made them such
excellent sparring partners. What had happened to Felix? Had he