Lucius smiled faintly. “When my wife and I were courting, I constantly wrote her poems and love notes,” he said. “I always ended them ‘with dreams only of you’. Therefore, when she is given this sword, she will know that my last thoughts were of her. In a sense, it is my last love note to her. It will bring her comfort.”
Quintus was touched by the sentiment. How wonderful to be young and so in love, but how terrible to see it all end this way. He handed the sword back to his friend, unwilling to say what he was thinking; a savage will find that sword and use it. It will never make it to your wife. Perhaps it was his cynical nature bringing those thoughts into his head. He did not want to take away Lucius’ only hope that his wife would someday receive that one last message, the final love poem in a short and sweet marriage that had been full of such things. Biting back his harsh words, he sighed faintly.
“I hope it indeed brings her comfort,” he said simply.
Lucius ran his hand over his sword, the smile fading from his lips. In fact, his expression seemed to slacken considerably, with shadows of sorrow again on his features. After a moment, he kissed the words on the sword softly, gently, as if delivering a kiss to the woman he would never see again.
In his own way, he was kissing her through his words. He knew she would feel his kiss when she read them. He wasn’t content with meeting her again in Elysium; he wanted to hold her one last time, to smell the flowers in her hair and to feel the texture of her skin. But the gods they had prayed to so fervently had denied them the hope they sought. After a moment’s reflection, on a life and love that would soon end, Lucius looked to Quintus.
“I must bury this sword,” he said. “It must be put someplace safe. I do not want the Otadini absconding with it.”
So he does know the reality of what will happen to such a weapon, Quintus thought. He was suddenly seized with the desire to help the man, however futile their efforts might be. Even if they were to die, perhaps something of them… of Lucius… would continue to live. Perhaps their story would be told, someday, and the legend of the sword with Theodosia’s name on it would survive. If it survived, in a sense, then they survived. Deep down, Quintus very much wanted to survive.
“Then let us bury it in the corner of the barracks, under the foundation,” he said. “I do not know how it will be found again but if this fort is ever rebuilt, they will more than likely discover it.”
Lucius nodded, rising weakly. He hadn’t eaten in days and his strength was nearly gone. “It will be rebuilt after we are gone,” he said confidently. “If we could only put the sword between the stones, they would find it more easily. I fear that if we bury it in the earth, it will be forever lost.”
Quintus rose, too, unsteady and wrought with hunger. “Let us hurry, then,” he said. “Our time is growing short.”
Together, they went to the northeast corner of the barracks. It was such a small structure and the others, overcome with hunger and defeat, watched with only mild curiosity as Quintus and Lucius began pulling at stones in the wall, trying to see if there were any stones loose enough to move, something that would create a big enough gap to hide a full-sized gladius. They pulled, grunted, shoved, and even kicked, and eventually they were able to remove four rather large stones from the wall, stones that had been carefully fitted together with clay to hold them together.
But the clay was weak because of the moisture and cold, and it gave way easily. Tossing the stones onto the floor, Lucius eagerly ran his hands along the gap their removal had created. He put the sword in to see if it would fit; it did, but barely. Joy filled him.
“It will fit,” he said. “See? There is enough room.”
Quintus knelt down beside him, inspecting the dark crevice. “It will fit,” he agreed,” but when we replace the stones, they will stick out more than others. It will be a sure sign that something is here.”
Lucius shook his head. “Only a Roman would notice that stones are out of alignment,” he said. “The barbarians from the north build with wood and mud and rocks, sloppy abodes that are not fit to house my dog. They will not notice that a few stones are askew.”
It was then that Quintus notice silver moonbeams streaming in from the slender, highly-placed window at the top of the barrack’s wall. The sun had set completely and the moon was now rising. He looked at Lucius and could tell by the man’s expression that he was thinking the same thing. The moon is rising. The Otadini would soon be coming for them. Seized with urgency, Lucius shoved his sword into the gap and together, he and Quintus replaced the stones, shoving them in as far as they would go.
By the time they were fitted, they didn’t stick out as far as Quintus feared they would. It was surprisingly seamless with the rest of the wall. Lucius even took dirt from the floor of the barracks and shoved it into the cracks, trying to mimic the clay mortar. As he and Quintus worked furiously to seal up the stone, they could hear shouts and howls outside.
Their worked stopped and they stood up, slowly, listening carefully to the noise that was starting to penetrate the barracks. It was evident that something was happening and they were compelled to prepare, compelled to face what they must. Calmly, Quintus went to his bed and collected his gladius. Holding the weapon in his hand, the one that had belonged to his father, his manner was wrought with resignation.
“It is time,” he said quietly. “They come.”
Lucius nodded stoically. “I know.”
Quintus glanced at him. “I will do what needs to be done with our commander and with the men,” he said softly. “I will give no savage the satisfaction of killing a Roman.”
Lucius couldn’t disagree. “I shall be near my wife when the time comes,” he said. Then, he nodded at Quintus as if giving him permission to do what needed to be done. “Victoriam et honorem, my friend.”
Quintus smiled faintly at the pledge each legionary from the Valeria Victrix gave one another, either as a salutation or a farewell. It was their code. Victory and honor. The words sounded sweetly tragic at the moment.
“Victoriam et honorem,” he repeated softly. “I will see you soon.”
Lucius saluted him, as a fellow soldier, before returning to the wall where he had so recently buried his sword. He plopped wearily onto the ground next to the stones that had been moved, putting a hand on the cold, gray rocks as he leaned back against them. The sounds of the Otadini were closer now, calling to each other in their terrible language, becoming Death as they approached.