"Enlighten us, my dear brother," said Julius, his eyes smiling, his smile perfunctory. "What should we do now so gravitas should, well, emanate from this dam?"
And so Domitian pontificated, regurgitating everything he had learned and prided himself on. The wind skirled, voicing a shrill cry of complaints as if even the rocks of mountains were bored.
Julius nearly chuckled.
"It's all very well said," He knitted his brows, bobbing his head. "But understand this, it's the men who do the work—"
"Of course it's the men who did the work!" Domitian bristled, slighted at what wasn't meant as an insult. "How can I not understand something so basic?"
Julius hoisted the corners of his mouth. "You're among those who hold my highest regard, dear brother." Divulging no aversion or disdain, he favored the other man with what he longed to hear the most, his voice amiable. "I only meant to ask if you would like to share your insight with the rest of the men. What you've suggested, after all, would require us to split a mountain and put away all the rocks. The tremendous amount of work aside, it would be sacrilege to the sierras. You see, brother, when your life depends on the surroundings, you learn to make peace with it. In exchange for safety, our men have vowed to Horus and Hera that they'd do the mountains no harm. Perchance you could change their minds?"
"If you only want me to speak to the men, why did you have to bring me up here?" Tucking his velvet cloak inlaid with southern pearls, he whirled to the stairs, leaving his host behind.
"Is he bloody serious thinking he can advise on our dam without having to see it first with his own eyes?" Quirinus gibed in a whisper. "A sissy like that you usually wouldn't expect such balls!"
Even the irascible Fronius chuckled.
Julius tapped both men on the shoulders, gesturing for them to quiet.
When they returned to the campsite, all men had gathered in formation under the command of Sergius Naevius Valerius, Tribune of the east flank. Lean and tall, he was known by his obsidian eyes sitting deep in either socket and the aquiline nose, shadowing over thin lips. A mean-looking man punished by his looks, he was ostracized and marginalized at court, but he was a great warrior nonetheless, and he had found his place in the north.
Saluting Julius, he thrust forward his right arm.
Julius returned the salute. With an easy gait, he whirled and bounded to a rectangular platform stacked with pinewoods before the battle ring.
"Today," he proclaimed, turning to the men Sergius had gathered. "we have the honor to host Lord Domitian Gordianus of House Uranus! A blood of your Lady Ariadne! My brother!"
All men chanted at once.
Julius continued, "Erudite and experienced, Lord Domitian has valuable advice on the dam many of our brothers have died for. Grace us with your thoughts, brother!" He looked over his shoulder, beckoning to Domitian. "Enlighten us all!"
The portly man looked to his Exonian guards. Sir Caeso Cassia gave him the approval with a brisk nod. His auburn whisker flailed about his mouth. Only then did Domitian waddle up the pinewood stairs.
Julius clinched his in-law. "Remember," he muttered to his ear. "You earn your respect."
And so Domitian spoke up again about how he thought the dam ought to be. Swinging his arm lengthwise to his back at Fronius, he concluded, "The dullard had it all wrong! He has led you in the wrong direction from the outset! He has failed you as you have my father, the Praetor Magnum, Marcus Cornelius Uranus!"
Fronius glared, marshaling his thoughts. He looked between the men and Julius as if searching for a fulcrum to lift the weight of unwarranted charge upon him. But all he had assembled in words was a terrible stammer. Veins spasmed around his temples, his hands tightening into fists.
Pleased with Fronius' reaction, Domitian gloated. "You're judged by the company you keep, General Julius, and look at your company! Your judgment on whom to keep lacks in a sense of justice that worries me, I must say."
No one spoke or moved. Only the caterwaul of the valley screeched and howled, pennons and banners snapping as did cloaks. The discipline of the Northern Legion was no joke. All soldiers, despite ranks, wore their composure without a crack. Julius felt his smile reaching his eyes at the sight.
"Lextus Marcellus Fronius, what can you tell me about him?" he hollered, regarding the formation at large while throwing an arm at Fronius. "An inventor? An engineer? An architect? No, he is all of them. Does anyone object?" Winds shrieked, undulating the sod to striations of shadows like lapping waves. Julius went forth, "And what has this inventor, engineer, and architect done in the last ten years to deserve all his titles? Has he bivouacked with horses as a military man? Yes. Has he voiced a word of complaint? No. Has his use of the arch saved us the time and gold that would otherwise cost? Yes. But in doing so, he has also reduced the majesty of our construction. A dam as important as the Dam of Uruk should have the height and width enough to hold up a palace to deserve the grace of our Praetor Magnum, said his son, Lord Domitian!"
Between gusts of gale came intermittent laughs while no one appeared to be laughing.
"Are you mocking me?" Domitian glowered. "Are you questioning my honor?"
"You're a son of Praetor Magnum, my dear brother," said Julius, regarding the other man, his eyes earnest. "I would never dare question you or your honor!" Then, turning to Fronius, he sauntered over to the man and asked, "Do you, Lextus Marcellus Fronius, understand the severity of your offense?"
Fronius squinted, his face drawn, lips hanging apart. Even Quirinus scowled, cocking a bewildered brow.
Julius lowered his head next to the brilliant man. "Trust me," he murmured without moving his mouth, then raised his voice again as he swiveled back to the men. "To settle this, I announce Lextus Marcellus Fronius to a duel with Lord Domitian. Effective immediately."
"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Domitian snatched at Julius' arm.
Feigning confusion, Julius asked, "I don't understand, brother. Wasn't it justice you seek?"
"You call a duel justice?"
"What can be more just than a duel?" he deadpanned, his hands folding on his back. Over the jagged spires covered in white, the first strike of lightning cleaved down from the gathering clouds. Julius looked to the sky, "Even the Gods seem eager," he continued. "You wouldn't wish to decline the Gods' wish, would you, my dear brother?"
"Julius Pompeius Gaius!" the portly man piped. "How dare you threaten me!"
Julius put up his hands. "I wouldn't dare, your grace," he japed, then, gripping his in-law's rounded shoulder, he leaned to Domitian's ear. "Look at him! The man's a spastic! Hasn't fired a crossbow once in his life! You can take him out with a blindfold over your eyes! I'll help you."
"How?"
"You'll have the windward ground."
Domitian looked aside, scanning Julius' profile as if for traces of cunning.
The face, however, betrayed nothing.
"I can't hand you men's respect," Julius added in a whisper, "But I'm handing you the chance to earn it."
The other man wrenched free from his grip, his lips tightening to a gash. He waggled a hand. His servant went forward, bowing below the pinewood platform.
"Bring me my crossbow," Domitian commanded, his voice taut and manic.
The servant obliged, retreating on backsteps before he whirled and trotted away. When he returned, he brought Domitian's crossbow. A majestic piece, Julius observed, of emerald bronze limb and barrel. On the lever were chiseled the Praetor's glyphs while the sigil of House Uranus, the three-headed eagle, perched on the end of the handlebar in gold.
With a last smile at his in-law, Julius wheeled himself to face the soldiers who stood tall between heavens and earth. "The Northern Legion under my command!" he thundered. "Retreat!"
All men thumped their feet in unison. Splitting in formation, they withdrew to either length of the battle ring. Their armors clanged amidst the caterwaul of the valley.
Julius beckoned his adjutant with his eyes.
His adjutant loped forward. "This way, Lord Domitian." Leaning to an arm at the battle ring, he ushered Domitian to his position on the west end.
As they left, Julius turned back to Fronius.
"How could you?" the man snapped with a visible shudder, his voice a skirl raw with what must feel like an utter betrayal.
Julius did not comment. "On your mark, Lextus Marcellus Fronius," he pronounced. "Or shall I execute you myself?"
"This is absurd!" Quirinus protested, the colors in his face high. "Lextus isn't a fighting man, General!"
"Neither is Lord Domitian."
"You can't be serious!"
But Julius only turned his back on both men, looking afar at the defile. Presided by a sullen battlement, the deep cut between two jagged peaks was joined by a staunch bridge of weathered stones that withstood the screeching wind. Measuring with his eyes the distance and the scale of the wind, he calculated the time and where he should stand.
Fronius said nothing. He patted Quirinus on the shoulder and threw on the dirt the papyrus scrolls of his designs, his life's works. Rearing his head, he marched to his fate awaiting at the east end of the battle ring.
Despite the chill, Julius felt the burning glare from Quirinus on his back. He took his own crossbow, an ebon piece made with black locust, and instructed his adjutant to follow him to the north side of the halfway line.
"By the Code of Honor," the adjutant bellowed, announcing the rules, "General Julius shall fire at the sky, informing the Gods of the duel when the bugle sounded the second time. On three, each contestant shall draw weapons. May the fastest and bravest man live!" As his voice fell, a soldier marched forth carrying a bugle on his shoulder.
Julius looked again to the north at the defile through which the wind whipped, then to the east at which the clouds tumbled. Rolling his shoulders, he shook his arms at the first blare, the call of life and death in one. When the bungle blasted the second time, he whirled to the north, turning his back to the battle ring, and aimed diagonally against where the wind blew. All the while, he observed Domitian from the corner of his eyes. Just as he had predicted, Domitian skewed around, drawing his crossbow at Fronius, who was still waiting for the last blare. Julius fired his shot northwest into the gale-force wind. The bolt caromed, slashing sidelong with a swoosh through Domitian's larynx, it impaled his neck with a spurt of blood. Domitian reeled a few steps. His majestic crossbow quivered in his hand and hit the ground before he dropped headlong.
The last sound of the bungle never came. Only the caterwaul of the valley shrieked. Fronius spun around, too nonplussed to breathe a word. He looked to Julius, who gave his crossbow to the adjutant and padded between the lines of soldiers. "Looks like the Gods haven't been too happy with the Praetor's son, have they?" he boomed, looking to either shoulder. "As I informed them of the duel according to the Code of Honor, the wind directed my shot. It was by the Gods' will that Domitian Gordanius Uranus died today. Are you my witness?"
"Aye!" all men raised their heads and chanted as one; their spears glinted in chorus, as did their helms.
"Proud men of the Northern Legion! My brothers! You kneel or bow to no one that isn't us for as long as you stand! Are you with me?"
"Aye!"
"Who are we?"
"Men of the Northern Legion!"
Julius smiled and halted his feet before Fronius. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"
"General, I …" Fronius shivered at a loss.
Julius clapped him on the side of his arm. A lightning bolt cracked through the sky, followed by a crash of thunder. A drop of rain splashed on Julius' silver pauldron. He pedaled back a step and sketched a brow at Fronius before raising his voice again. "None of what we have built would have been built without you. And I bow to you, Lextus Marcellus Fronius, my chief engineer, inventor, and architect."
As his voice fell, all men dropped to one knee. Fronius gaped while tears welled in his eyes. Only then did Julius know that the long day was finally over, and he had retained what no artillery would conquer nor gold could buy.
The rain pelted.