a sword.
– Not only that. He wants to kill you. And he will kill you if you don’t do it first, – the old nomad lowered his voice: – One of your slaves survived. – Her name is Tertia. She’s pregnant. If you kill Yu Lai, I will save her and find her a man. The child will live, – he fell silent, waiting for Lacius’s decision. Lacius stood there, realising with horror that he had no way out.
– Well, have you buried me yet? – he asked quietly, but the nomad did not answer, continuing to wait for his decision. – After all, even if I kill Yu Lai, others will finish me off. Right? – silence was more eloquent than any answer. – Okay, – Lacius nodded his head, – but you’ll have to save two more people. There are two young men here. Their names are Mark and Zeno. It’s too early for them to die. Take them with you now!
– This is impossible. I can’t take them. It’s dangerous. If they survive, I’ll take them after the holiday.
– Alright, if they survive, will you definitely save them? Their mother’s name is Saet. She was also among the prisoners. Find her!
– You’re asking for the impossible. I will only help these two if they survive. Got it?
– Yes, – Lacius was forced to agree.
– Now listen. This warrior will have a sharp stick at the end. Not bamboo like others. This is solid wood. No hole inside. Very hard. And flexible. Doesn’t break. You will have bamboo. When they bring it to you, cut the edge so that it is sharp. Like this, – the old guide picked up a piece of bamboo from the ground and in one motion cut off the edge at an angle. The bevel was not sharp, but it could easily enter the body with a strong blow. Lacius shook his head doubtfully.
– How can we cut it? Are you kidding? No knife, – he tried to make out the expression on Goju’s face, but in the pale light of the moon nothing was visible – only the outlines of the beard and cheekbones. The old nomad suddenly handed him an object wrapped in leather. Lacius unwrapped the package and shuddered. It was one of those black knives that he had once made for himself. Zeno had the last of them! How could it be here?
– Where did you get it from? – he burst out.
– Found it in the city. Someone killed a strong warrior on the wall. With the knife in the neck. Deep, – the old man said this so calmly, as if he had accidentally tripped over it in the dust in the market square. – Everything could be found there.
– I see. If not with a stick, then with a knife? – Lacius guessed.
– Yes. You know how to throw a knife. Kill him anyway.
– Wait… but if I kill him, I’ll stay alive? Right? What’s next? – he asked carefully.
– You won’t stay. Others will kill you. No one is allowed to kill a Han warrior during the festival. Holidays are joy. You will be beaten and you will accidentally die. But you can’t kill him.
– Are you kidding? I have no choice?
– No. They’ll kill you either way. That’s why I brought you this knife. Fu Xing saw it. Chen Tang saw it. There are a dozen more warriors, who know that a very famous warrior was killed with this knife. So I give you your knife back deliberately. And if you kill Yu Lai with it, no one will think of me.
– Can we survive? – Lacius finally asked the old man, just in case.
– Hardly. Nobody needs such slaves. Nobody will buy you, – Goju paused. – You are needed for the holiday. You can defend yourself from a stick. You can fight for a long time. Until they take your head off. You can also put thick leather under your shirt. Buffalo’s skin. So you can last longer. Do you want to try it?
– You bet! I do! I wish I could live longer, – Lacius said slowly, thinking about the guide’s words. – Will you bring it?
– Yes. I’ll tell Fu Xing. Tomorrow, they will bring you the leather, but you’ll cut and tie it yourself in the barn. Don’t take it outside. And keep quiet. Make backless and sleeveless shirts like those worn by bearers.
– I understand you. If the gods help me, I won’t forget you. I promise! – Lacius said hotly.
– Well, well, – the old guide muttered something unclear. – Don’t forget about the senior warrior named Yu Lai! This is very important. He must die, – the guide said gloomily and slowly walked towards the Han guards. This ended their conversation, and Lacius, hiding the knife in his bosom, with difficulty dragged the iron ball back. Having reached the barn, he lay down right at the entrance and could not fall asleep for a long time, tossing from side to side and reflecting on the words of the old Xiongnu nomad, until Paul Domician, who was lying nearby, asked him:
– Has Morpheus deprived you of sleep? Is it really that bad?
– It seems so, – Lacius sighed. – The gods are playing their games again. —
– They always do like this. Do you remember Vargont and Atilla? Poor guys. The gods have their own entertainment. But if you don’t sleep, you won’t help anything. You’ll just get tired.
– That’s for sure, – Lacius agreed and closed his eyes. The sleep was heavy and long. He dodged right and left from blows to the face, but for some reason his hands did not rise up to help fight off the sharp end of the stick, which was aimed right at his eye. His inquisitive mind, as always in moments of mortal danger, looked for a way out and did not give up, trying to use every opportunity to survive. But death came closer and closer.
CHAPTER X. STICKS AGAINST SWORDS
The holiday in the capital of the Han Empire began early in the morning. The Romans understood this from the noise outside the walls of the governor’s house: cattle drivers shouted, carts creaked, mules lowed, horses neighed occasionally, and it was felt that there were much more people on the streets than on ordinary days. Lacius lay with his eyes closed on an old rug, made of thin straw, and for the thousandth time imagined protection with chains on his feet. There was little space in the barn, and they were forced to stand against the walls, practising blows and dodging them, first in different directions, and then back and forth. It was impossible to move here, but the Romans tried their best.
Finally, Lacius stopped and turned to Paul Domician to offer a prayer to the gods with him. The old singer agreed, and they spent the rest of the afternoon praying and talking about the help of the gods. Other Romans joined them, everyone prayed to different gods, so they often asked Lacius if they were right to ask the gods for help and whether they would listen to them if they did not make a sacrifice to them. Everyone was very worried, and it was surprising that no one blamed each other for their terrible situation.
Closer to noon, the chief of the guard, Fu Xing, and about two hundred servants came for them. All Romans were given whitish, washed robes, made of simple fabric and pieces of rope instead of belts. They quickly put on sleeveless leather shirts with a piece of board that Lacius had thought of attaching at the very bottom so that it would cover the groin. Goju helped with this too. Then everyone began to pull their white capes on top. They were of different lengths and widths, so they didn’t suit many people. Lacius and Zeno had it worst of all – their sleeves were longer than their arms and at the bottom they dragged along the ground. They had to cut them right here.
Finally, everyone was ready. Paul Domician was ordered to stay in the barn. The rest, right in chains, were brought to the first gate of the inner city and, after being counted, were brought inside. Some kind of performance had just ended there: people in red shirts were collecting yellow and red ribbons, bringing out large masks with predatory smiles and large pieces of fabric that looked like fish tails. From the entrance to the steps at the first building there was a wide, flat road lined with round white pebbles. On either side of it there was a large space with nothing but trampled earth and a row of stone benches. It was similar to a gladiator theater,