"Prefect, this prisoner requested to speakto you," Lucullus said, his words startling me almost as much ashis approach, I must admit.
"Oh? You mean he asked to speak to thecommander of the army?"
My assumption was that this was one highbornman trying to appeal to another, perhaps to offer to pay a ransomfor his freedom, which was certainly not unheard of.
"No, he asked for you by name," Lucullussaid, then gave the man a hard shove.
When he lifted his head to gaze up at me, ittook me a moment to recognize him, between the poor light of earlymorning, his hair and the dirt and what looked like blood caked onhis face. Squinting, I finally realized that it was Charax and,despite myself, I felt a stab of sympathy for the man.
"Ah, Charax," I said, wondering if I soundedas awkward as I felt. "What can I do for you?"
"Prefect Pullus, I have come to make arequest of you," he began, but I cut him off, since I was sure thatI knew what he was going to say.
"The answer is yes, I will accept a ransompayment for your freedom. And," I added this, and I suppose I wasprompted by a particularly heart-rending and shrill scream of achild, "your family, of course. But," I finished, hardening mytone, "only for your immediate family. No cousins or nephews or anynonsense like that."
The look Charax gave me was one that hasbeen a feature in many of my dreams, the kind of dreams like thatof the recurring one when we exterminated the Usipetes and Tencteritribes. If it had been of pure hatred, I would have understood, buthis expression was one of such sorrow, loss, bitterness, and...something else that I could not identify, and I still cannot, thatI felt my breath catch in my throat.
"No, Prefect, that is not what I amrequesting of you." Charax turned his head to stare back at thebarely visible shapes of his people taking either their first stepinto a life of slavery, or their last journey in Charon's Boatbefore he faced me again.
"It is too late for my family," he saidsimply. "And the request I make is that you allow me to join them,in the afterlife."
I stared at him for a moment, not sure I hadheard correctly. This was very unusual, to say the least. Over theprevious forty years, I had either participated or been witness toscenes like this more times than I could count, but never beforehad a prisoner made this request, at least in my hearing. As muchas men say, usually as they are sitting at a table in a tavern, oraround a fire, holding a cup of wine, that they would choose deathover slavery, without hesitation, my experience has been the exactopposite. I know I have mentioned it before; when I was younger, Iwas one of those men, and all I can say in my defense is that Ibelieved myself when I uttered the words. And we Romans inparticular are very adamant in this belief, and most men I knowhave nothing but contempt for those men who choose life, even withthe the prospect of slavery that comes with it. But these old eyes,as weak and failing as they are now, have seen much of the knownworld, and I have faced a number of races and nations, and I knowthat courage is not an exclusively Roman virtue. I have witnessedbravery in my enemies of such magnitude that any Roman would beproud to claim it as their own act, so I have learned to becautious when throwing such claims about. While I would like tothink that the prospect of living in bondage to another man is soabhorrent that I would instantly seek my death, I am not so surewhen the moment arrived whether or not I would allow the chains tobe draped around my own wrists. It was these thoughts that createdin me an air of surprise when I heard Charax actually utter aloudthose words that we Romans throw about so casually, in a meaningfulway.
"Are you sure?" I asked him quietly, but hisgaze did not waver.
Nor did he answer, which told me what Ineeded to know.
"Very well," I said gravely. "I grant yourrequest. And if you will tell me your burial rites, I will makesure that you are interred with all honor."
He clearly was not expecting that because asudden glint appeared in his eyes, and I looked away, not wishingto shame a man who was showing true courage. I was about to tellLucullus to take him away when he spoke up, and I was in for yetanother surprise.
"In light of your...generosity," Charaxstarted, and while I could not be sure, I thought I saw a glimmerof a smile as he spoke of my charity, "I do have one more requestto make."
My mind immediately made the assumption thathe be allowed to have his family interred, or cremated with him,and I was already trying to determine how we could manage toextract his loved ones from the corpses that were no doubtlittering the streets and houses of Naissus. But that was not whathe was about.
"I would like for you to send me to theafterlife, by your hand. Using your sword."
One day, perhaps soon, I plan on askingCharax when I meet him in the afterlife, if he was trying to saluteme in a way, or insult me. I am afraid I know the answer, but it isjust one more of the
