A Thousand Fallen Petals

Metal *

Sunlight sprinkled through the cover of leaves, sending a kaleidoscope of greens and golds down on a slight figure poised at the edge of a branch with an arrow docked and the bow drawn tight.

You must never be seen.

And there was little to see with the hood, which revealed only glimpses: A sheen of glimmering sweat. Bronze brows drawn together in concentration. Sturdy arms and loose robes. A steadying breath was drawn as the bow was pulled tighter, tighter, the wood creaking under the strain, and still, the figure waited.

The deer finally stepped closer.

Without a second's hesitation, the arrow was released. It whistled, slicing through the air—

Except a second whistle followed the first.

The deer dropped dead with two arrows protruding from its head and the youth started, head whipping up, the hood falling away…

"Alerio?"

Markus stared at the young man. He was slight, like Alerio, with the same features and wild bronze hair, except his eyes weren't Alerio's eyes. Markus had seen the same deep brown and determination on another face, delicate and feminine, a long time ago.

He drew a sharp breath. "Quisnam es?" Who are you?

Serican words fell like water from the boy's lips, fluid and fast like it belonged in his blood. And the more Markus looked at him, the more he realised how unlike Alerio he was. The softness of the jaw, the rounder cheeks, the angled corners of his eyes. The boy was not Roman.

I don't understand you, Markus said.

The boy's eyes widened and his words changed, his tongue forming Latin words as easily as they did Serican ones. How do you know my father's name?

Markus blinked. The boy was and wasn't Roman. Alerio is your father? He took a step closer. He was a son to me. Can you take me to him?

The boy drew back, skittish. My father's dead.

Markus hadn't realised he'd begun hoping until a sharp ache struck his pounding heart. He clutched his chest and caught sight of his gnarled fingers, feeling much too old. Alerio was dead. Alerio was dead. Markus hadn't known that he was sending the boy to his death when he'd let him go. A part of him had believed Alerio would be back after regaining his senses. They'd set camp at the harbour, waiting, waiting…. but they couldn't wait forever. The ship had set sail without Alerio.

Markus had spent the journey in prayer. Cato, forgive me. I couldn't protect your boy.

Now, with the young man's curious, penetrating gaze on him, he could see Cato's brilliance reflected in the boy. Alerio's son. Cato's grandson. If only they were here to see it. Heart heavy as a stone, he asked, Can you take me to where your father's buried?

We don't bury our dead, the boy said, but he came closer. I can show you where I keep the ashes.

Markus nodded. And your mother?

The boy shot him an odd look. You know my mother?

I don't know her name, Markus said. But I know your father loved her. Madly, Markus wanted to say. Alerio had been utterly mad. He'd laid down his life for a woman he could not have. But looking at the boy, it seemed that Markus hadn't been entirely right. Alerio had lived long enough to raise the boy, long enough to share his archery and his Latin. Markus sighed. Had it been worth it, Alerio?

Was the girl still alive? She had to be, for their son to be so healthy and well-taken care of. The boy seemed in his early adolescent years, only slightly younger than Alerio had been when Markus had lost him. He bent over the deer to carry it, and Markus quickly went to help. Where do you live?

Up there. He nudged his chin up towards the vast mountain covered with a dense canopy of trees. We have to climb a bit.

Markus's knees protested but he only nodded.

As though reading his mind, the boy batted Markus's hands away and heaved the deer up over his shoulders, rising easily to his feet. I got this, old man. A twinkle lit up his warm brown eyes and Markus felt himself softening, already fond of the boy.

How long do we have to walk?

Long, came the reply.

The boy wasn't exaggerating. They trekked up the mountain at a pace that made conversation impossible for Markus. The air grew thinner and thinner and Markus could barely stop his pants. Still, the boy continued, limber and undeterred, pausing only to wait for him to catch up. Markus's legs were trembling by the time a simple wooden hut came into view.

Little golden bells hung from the door, tinkling in the wind. The same door opened and slammed as two small girls chased after each other, shrieking and giggling, a peculiar blend of Serican and Latin flowing from their lips. Markus was doubled over, winded, but he couldn't help staring. Alerio had more children? But they were so young. How recently had he passed?

Markus looked back at the boy. His cheeks were pink with exertion and he gave Markus a grin before raising his voice. Father, I have a surprise for you!

Markus was flabbergasted. You said he was dead!

My father's a wanted man, the boy said, eyes sparkling. I had to make sure.

Yes? The bells tinkled once more as the door opened and Alerio emerged from the house, another tiny child perched on his shoulders. What is it? His bronze hair was streaked with grey and there were new lines on his face but he was alive. He swivelled around to look at his son and his jaw dropped. Markus?

***

You have a fine boy, Markus managed to say.

The boy smirked and Alerio gave him an appraising look. She's a girl.

Markus did a double-take. What?

I was good, wasn't I, old man? She said, grinning. Father, I told you no one could tell.

Alerio shook his head and sent her outside to fetch some water. Grumbling about being always the one to do chores, she slipped off her stool and left.

Markus gazed at the blood and mud plastered on her garments, frowning. How can you dress her like this? It isn't right.

Alerio sighed. She looks too much like me, he said. It's difficult for her, having to hide all the time. There's nothing for her to do.

The child around his shoulders kicked, restless, and Alerio plucked her and put her onto his lap, where she quieted instantly, yawning and curling to sleep in his arms. Outside, squeals and peals of laughter echoed and Markus glanced at the window, bemused. How many children do you have?

Five daughters, Alerio's tone was long-suffering but his eyes radiated contentment.

And your… Markus had no idea what to call her. Wife? Concubine? She was neither, for Alerio couldn't have married her here. The mother of your children?

Li Rong will be back soon.

Incredible. Markus leaned back in his chair. They were both alive, still together, with children. How did you do it? He marvelled.

I didn't, she did, Alerio said. His back was to the door and it tinkled as it opened. The girl from Markus's memory stepped inside, her son—no, daughter, Markus reminded himself—close behind her.

Her exquisite beauty sucked all air from the room. With porcelain skin and startling midnight eyes, she seemed not to have aged a day save for the snowy threads that peaked on the silk of her hair. She tilted her head at Alerio's words, delicate brows pulling together, and said in Latin, Nonsense.

Markus gave a startled laugh.

Alerio rested a hand on her arm, saying something to her in halting Serican, and she sat down beside him, their shoulders brushing. His gaze was adoring, and hers was equally soft.

Love. Love so powerful and preternatural, it seemed written by the gods themselves.

How did you learn? Markus asked in wonder.

The children, Alerio said simply.

You mean me, their daughter said, sounding mildly indignant.

Yes, my dear, you, Alerio said, as Li Rong smiled and pressed a kiss to her daughter's sweaty forehead, murmuring something Markus could not understand.

You said you had five children? Markus looked around. He'd thought the fifth was with her mother, but there was no fifth in sight.

Our eldest ist married, Alerio said. He ruffled his daughter's hair. She's our second oldest.

Married. The word was so commonplace that Markus could hardly believe it. How had they managed? Pray, do tell me what happened.

The tale slowly unravelled, Li Rong speaking slowly enough for Alerio to understand and their daughter to translate.

Markus felt his eyes grow wider and wider.

The fragile-looking woman had dragged Alerio, delirious, onto a horse to hide out in the very same mountains they now lived in. She'd tended to his wounds and they'd survived for weeks on nut, berries and the occasional small animal that she'd caught, skinned and roasted. By a miraculous stroke of luck, his fever had broken and he'd slowly begun to recover. The soldiers eventually stopped searching for them, sure they were dead.

Then she'd made a drastic decision.

She'd trekked down to the nearest town and knelt before a teahouse for two days in the snow until they'd conceded and allowed her to play.

Markus noticed then that her robes were intricately designed, tiny flowers and leaves decorating the seams, the fabric gleaming despite its muted colours.

She plays very well, Alerio said, nodding at the stringed instrument in a shadowed corner of their home. Guzheng. It's a Serican zither.

Li Rong murmured something and their daughter translated. My mother says she learned a lot watching the ladies in the palace. Dancing, too. The teahouse took her in immediately. Their daughter's cheeks dimpled. Mother's really, really good. I snuck in to listen a few times. Everyone raves about her.

Don't do again, Li Rong said in accented Latin, pressing her lips together. Dangerous for you.

The girl fought not to roll her eyes. Yes, Mother.

Markus straightened. Come home, Alerio, he said. Take your family. You can live freely in Rome.

Alerio only shook his head. I can. But my family cannot. She cannot. He rested his hand on Li Rong's, his gaze straying to her waist, wrapped and hidden by the silken sash. She's with child, he said quietly. And they're so young. He gazed at the small girls playing outside. We can't.

Markus had expected the answer, but still, he was disappointed.

Won't you at least let me take her home? He gazed at their secondborn, the one who looked so much like her father.

She's a girl, Markus, Alerio said, his eyes troubled.

I will keep her secret, Markus said. She will do much better in Rome. She won't have to hide.

I want to go, the girl said immediately. I'm strong and I can shoot, Father. I can write. And I can speak as well as they do.

Alerio was clearly unwilling, afraid that his daughter would be spurned. And Markus understood. The girl could lose everything. Except Alerio still had family who very much loved him.

Your brother is alive, Markus said. He'll take her as his own. Your sister could do it too. Write them a letter, Alerio. I will deliver it if it's the last thing I do.

Alerio hesitated.

It was Li Rong who rose, her arms coming around her daughter. Her eyes were tender but also reminiscent of great hardship. She whispered something to her daughter.

Mother says I should go, their daughter said.

Your mother cannot come with us, Alerio said. Your sisters…

Of course not. I will go alone, she said.

How will I arrange a marriage for you across an ocean? Alerio looked pained.

I don't ever want to get married, their daughter said defiantly.

Alerio stared but before he could open his mouth, Markus cut in. I will care for her, he said. She will make a fine emissary.

She is a girl, Markus. Alerio was stricken. I taught her to shoot and to write but she is a girl. I don't want her in danger.

They need not ever know, Markus said. Not until we reach Roman shore. In Rome, she can live freely. She's so young, there's plenty of time for her to think and choose. Here, she can only hide.

Alerio was silent for the longest moment.

I will keep her safe, Markus said. And treat her as my own.

Please? Their daughter begged.

Markus was struck by the way Li Rong stood by, silent and untroubled. How she could be calm in such a crucial moment… as though she already knew his answer. Markus's gaze strayed back to Alerio, who finally looked up at his daughter. You'll need a Latin name.

She practically vibrated with excitement.

We'll find one together, Markus said.

The goodbyes were brief. There were no tears. Alerio and Li Rong's eyes shone with resolute belief, the same one that had brought them—and kept them—together.

Alerio took Li Rong into his arms as they watched their daughter leave, plum blossom petals floating down like pale pink raindrops. The tinkling bells and children's laughter was a comforting, familiar melody.