Cursed to Die

CURSED TO DIE Cursed to Die I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII XXIII XXIV XXV XXVI XXVII XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI Dramatis personae More from Alex Wagner: About the author: Under the reign of Emperor Hadrian (117—138 AD), the power of the Roman Empire reaches to the borders of the known world, and even the most remote provinces enjoy unprecedented peace and prosperity. On the well-fortified northern border of the empire, the Limes, lies the future world city of Vienna—Vindobona—at this point no more than a legionary base, flanked by two insignificant civilian settlements. The whims of the gods are unfathomable. The man of antiquity is only a plaything in their power. If he nevertheless dares to take his fate into his own hands, he must use magic. And sometimes in this way he plunges into ruin.... I "I bring great news, Thanar! There may be a way to save Alma!" Layla announced as she jumped out of her carriage onto the front lawn of my house. She came running up to me, hugged me warmly in greeting and kissed me on both cheeks, which no longer caused astonished looks between her two companions, a coachman and an armed guard. They were used to the somewhat unusual behavior of the beautiful Nubian by now—Layla came from that mysterious kingdom, deep in the heart of Africa. Layla had never been much concerned with the question of what manners were appropriate for a woman. The fact that she greeted another man—me—so warmly, even though she was the partner of the camp commander of Vindobona’s garrison, was no longer surprising to anyone. The coachman worked in the legionary camp, but the guard was actually in my service. However, he was so fond of Layla that he almost always accompanied her when she was traveling alone. She trusted him blindly, and I had no objection to putting him at her disposal. His name was Telephus, and he was a former gladiator, legendary for his fearsome axe fighting. He’d had to give up his illustrious arena career, however, because his eyesight had badly deteriorated. He could still see well enough for everyday tasks, such as being Layla's escort, but in gladiatorial combat, where quick reflexes and perfectly honed senses could mean the difference between life and death, his diminished eyesight had become a deadly weakness. That was why he now worked for me, and I had never regretted hiring him. Marcellus, the aforementioned camp commander and Layla’s paramour, never put it directly into words, but it was probably fine by him that none of his legionaries gave Layla an escort. He was aware that her paths were often quite unorthodox, and led to the strangest places. Or that she rarely behaved as one would expect of the mistress of a legate. If he had given her a companion from the camp to guard her along her way, he would inevitably have gossiped about it to his soldier friends, and soon the entire legion would have known about Layla's activities. Marcellus was a self-confident young nobleman, and although he was not overly conscious of his rank and reputation, he was not necessarily eager to become the laughingstock of the legionary camp—let alone all of Vindobona. He was in the public eye and enjoyed the attention he received. On the other hand, he so adored Layla that he practically ate out of her hand, although he would never have admitted to it publicly. She had the freedom of a king’s jester in her dealings with him, and enjoyed it to the fullest. But what was I actually doing here? I was thinking about Layla's companion, about Marcellus, instead of grasping the words that had just fallen from Layla's lips. There may be a way to save Alma. Had she really said that? Or was it just the desperation in my soul, hoping against hope to hear good news? I gave myself a jolt and asked, "What are you saying? Salvation for Alma? Are you serious about that? By what means?" We had already tried everything. Layla nodded her head, even though the gesture was accompanied by a tentative smile. It was rare for her to appear so uncertain. "I'll tell you everything, Thanar," she said. "Shall we go into the house—or into the garden?" It was early May and summer had already arrived in our northern province, which was also unusual. Vindobona is a legionary base on the northern border of the empire, the so-called Limes. So it wasn’t exactly what one would have called a place of eternal spring. The sun god generally favored more southern climes. But this year the divine Sol was well-disposed towards us: the smaller courtyards and the large garden of my estate were already blooming and fragrant, fountains were splashing away peacefully, and bees and butterflies were busy at work, buzzing all around us. It could have been truly idyllic if I weren’t trembling every hour for my beloved Alma. The dark shadow hovering over her—what harm would it do in the end? It seemed to me that she was on the verge of losing her mind, and I blamed myself for her condition. We hadn't been a couple long, but I felt my constant involvement in murder cases had led to Alma's terrible suffering and grief. Layla and I took our seats on the comfortable couches in one of my leafy courtyards, where we wouldn’t be disturbed, and she immediately began to recount a wild story. "I’ve heard of a healer," she announced, "who is said to perform true miracles. Dexippa, the baker in the camp suburb, told me about her. You know her—she runs that tiny store where I love to buy the sweet bread." I nodded, even though I really didn't want to talk about bread right now. Everyone knew of old Dexippa and her heavenly delicacies. "Keep talking," I demanded restlessly.