letters for him.
Had Mamercus's reaction been callous and uncaring, I would not have been surprised. Many an impatient, bitter, dispossessed young man in his situation might have scorned a doting grandparent's concern, especially if that grandparent had always supported the very establishment against which he was rebelling. But Mamercus's reaction was quite different. I watched the swift movement of his eyes as they perused the words and saw them glisten with tears. He clamped his jaw tightly to stop his lips from quivering. His evident distress made him look almost as boyish as Eco.
Gaius Claudius had not kept the contents of his letter secret from me. On the contrary, he had insisted that I read it:
My dearest grandson, blood of my blood, what has induced you to take thisfoolish course? Do you think to please the shade of your father by joining a hopeless struggle against those who destroyed him? If this were the only course open to you-if your own name and future had been ruined along with your father's and mother's-then honor might demand such a desperate course. But in Rome you still have my protection, despite your father's downfall, andyou can still make a career foryourself. We are woefully impoverished, to be sure, but together we willfind a way out of our misfortune! Surely the best revenge for your father would be for you to restore our family's fortunes and to make a placefor yourself in the state, so that when you are my age you can look back upon a long career and a world you have had a hand in shaping to your liking. Do not throw your life away! Please, I begyou, calm your passions and let reason guide you. Come back to me! The man who bears this message has funds sufficientfor your passage home. Mamercus, son of my son, I pray to the gods that 1 shall see you soon!
After a while, Mamercus pressed the tablets together and retied the ribbon. He averted his eyes in a way that reminded me of his grandfather. 'Thank you for bringing the letter. Is that all?'
'Is it all?' I said. 'I know what's in the letter. Will you honor his request?'
'No. Leave me now.'
'Are you sure, Mamercus? Will you think on it? Shall I come back later?' 'No!'
My commission from Gaius Claudius was specific: I was to locate Mamercus, to deliver the message, and to help Mamercus, if he chose, to escape unscathed from Sertorius's service. It was not incumbent on me to persuade him to leave. But I had come a long way, and now I had seen both the old senator's distress and his grandson's response to it. If Mamercus had reacted with derision, if he had be-trayed no love for his grandfather, that would have been the end of it. But his reaction had been quite the opposite. Even now, from the way he gently held the tablets, almost caressing them, and reached up to wipe his eyes, I could see that he was feeling a great flood of affection for the old man, and consequently, perhaps, considerable confusion over the choice he had made.
I thought it wise to change the subject for a moment. 'You seem to have done well for yourself, here in Sertorius's army,' I said.
'Better than I expected, in so short a time,' admitted Mamercus. He tucked the tablets under his arm and smiled crookedly. 'The commander was very glad to take me in. He gave me a position on his staff at once, despite my lack of experience. 'Look,' he said to everyone, 'a young Claudius, come all the way from Rome to join us! But don't worry, son, we'll be back in Rome before you know it, and it's the blasted Sullans who'll be searching for their heads!''
'And do you believe that? Is that why you choose to stay?'
Mamercus bristled. 'The question is, what's keeping you here, Gordianus? I've given you my answer. Now go!'
At that moment, the crowd before the commander's tent broke into a cheer. I heard the name of Sertorius shouted aloud in acclamation, and saw that the great man himself had emerged from the tent. He was a tall, robust-looking man with a strong jaw and a smile that radiated confidence. Years ago, he had lost an eye in battle. Other men might have been embarrassed by the defect, but Sertorius was said to consider his leather eye-patch to be a badge of honor. The many battle scars scattered over his arms and legs he considered to be his medals.
Some mortals possess a charismatic allure that is almost divine, that anyone can see at a glance, and Quintus Sertorius was such a mortal. This was a man whom other men would trust implicitly and follow without question, to glory or death. The cheers that greeted his appearance, from both his own soldiers and from the local petitioners, were absolutely genuine and spontaneous.
Then the cries died away to a whispered hush. Eco and I looked at one another, puzzled. The cheering was understandable, but what was this? It was the hush of religious awe such as one hears in Rome at certain ancient rites performed in the temples in the Forum, a barely audible welter of whispers and murmurs and muttered prayers.
Then I saw the remarkable creature that had followed Sertorius out of the tent.
It was a young fawn. Her soft pelt was utterly white, without a single spot of color. She gamboled after Sertorius like a loyal hound, and when he paused, she nuzzled against his thigh and lifted her snout for him to stroke. I had never seen anything like it.
The hush grew louder, and amid the strange dialects I heard snatches of Latin:
'The white fawn! The white fawn!'
'They both look happy-that must mean good news!'
'Diana! Bless us, goddess! Bless Quintus Sertorius!'
Sertorius smiled and laughed and bent down to take the fawn's head in his hands. He kissed her right on the snout.
This evoked an even louder murmur from the crowd-and from one onlooker, a loud, barking laugh. My dear mute son has a very strange laugh, alas, rather like the braying of a mule. The fawn's ears shot straight up and she cowered behind Sertorius, tripping awk-wardly over her spindly legs. Heads turned toward us, casting suspicious looks. Eco clamped his hands over his mouth. Sertorius peered in our direction, frowning. He saw Mamercus, then appraised me with a curious eye.
'Mamercus Claudius!' he called. 'I wondered where you'd got to. Come!'
Sertorius pressed on through the worshipful crowd, with the white fawn and a cordon of guards following behind. Included in the retinue, I was surprised to see, was a girl who could hardly have been older than Eco. She was a beautiful child, with dark eyes and cheeks like white rose petals. Dressed all in white, with her black hair bound up in a scarf, she looked and carried herself like a priestess, keeping her eyes straight ahead and striding between the soldiers with a grace and self-assurance beyond her years.
'A white fawn!' I said. 'And that girl! Who is she, Mamercus?'
But Mamercus only glowered at me and went to join Sertorius. I ran after him and clutched his arm.
'Mamercus, I shall try to find lodgings in Sucro tonight. If you should change your mind-'
He yanked his arm from my grasp and strode off without looking back.
Lodgings were not hard to find in Sucro. There was only one tavern with accommodations, and the place was deserted. The battle between Pompey and Sertorius had driven travelers far away, and the likelihood of another battle was keeping them away.
The tavern keeper was a strong-looking Celt with a shaggy black beard, named Lacro. He seemed to be in high spirits despite the hardships of war, and was glad to have two paying guests to share wine and conversation in the common room that night. Lacro's fam-ily had lived on the banks of the Sucro for generations. He boasted proudly of the bounty of the river and the beauty of the coast. His favorite recreation was to go trapping and hunting in the marshes near the river's mouth, where birds flocked in great numbers and crustacean delicacies could be plucked from the mud. Lacro had ap-parently been spending a lot of time in the marshes lately, if only to stay clear of the fighting.
But he did not complain about the war, except to excoriate
Pompey and Metellus. Lacro was very much a partisan of Sertorius, and praised him for unifying the various Celtic and Iberian tribes of Spain. He had no quarrel with Romans, he said, so long as they were like Sertorius; if it took a Roman to give his people leadership, then so be it. When I told him that Eco and I had come that very day from the great commander's camp, and indeed had caught a glimpse of Sertorius himself, Lacro was quite impressed.
'And did you see the white fawn?' he asked.
'Yes, we did. A strange creature to keep as a pet.'
'The white fawn is not a pet!' Lacro was appalled at the idea. 'The white fawn was sent to Sertorius as a gift, by Diana. The goddess speaks to him through the fawn. The fawn tells Sertorius the future.'
