Page 14 of 1000 of You
“He attacked me first!” the manproclaimed.
“You attacked the woman first!” theshaman shot back. “Muamwas protecting the woman!”Turning to the stunned crowd, he pointed toKolis.“Take him! Show him the same kind of mercy he gaveMuamand his bride!”
The crowd converged onKolis, overwhelming the man who tried to flee withoutsuccess. With the man’s shrieks ringing in her ear as the people dragged himout of the tent,Govabowed her head, her visionquickly fading. Crawling over to whereMuamlay, shedropped beside him. Somehow he found one of her hands and weakly squeezed herfingers. Drawing what little strength she had left,Govapressed his hand to her lips. “I will love you eternally. This will not be thelast of us,Muam. We will continue.”
A figure knelt between them, and awarm hand rested on her cheek. “So be it,” the shaman pronounced softly. “Thiswill not be your final death. You will love again in another life. I promiseyou that.”
Muamcoughed. “I will love you forever,Gova. I do notcare if we have to endure a thousand lives. At the end, we will find eachother…and we will have…our time…to love.”
“A thousand…”Teyhassounded aghast. “Muam, no.”
With her final breath,Govasent forth every ounce of sorcery she could summon.
The last thing she heard was theshaman giving them his blessing.
“A thousand lives. So be it.”
Chapter 10
Constantinople, AD 542
Muamstared at the face reflected in the shield he held in his hands. He paused,blinked in astonishment,thenslowly raised his faceto look around him.
He felt asif he’d awakened after a long sleep. His thoughts remained foggy, scrambled,and distant. Nothing looked familiar. Yet, it did. The smells were all wrong,but they weren’t.
Before him,a group of men sat around small fires. Some were laughing. A few were drinking.Several passed by, on their way to and from some unknown location. Theirclothes were strange and different. And this place…
Casting hiseyes upward, it appeared he was inside some sort of citadel. Walls toweringhigher than three men standing on each other’s shoulders surrounded him.Statues of people wearingmore strangegarb sat atintervals atop the walls.
A horsewent by, led by a man in a shift belted at the waist. He kept his face loweredin the manner of a slave.Muamwatched the man takethe animal to a stall at the far end of the open area where he and the otherswere sitting.
“Thatshield is not going to polish itself,” a voice teased from behind him. Turningaround, he saw an older man standing there. Before he could reply, the manthrew a leg over the bench whereMuamwas sitting andparked his sword on his lap. “Mind if I join you? If we look busy, they may notcall on us to do pick up.”
Pick up?
Who wasthis man?
Muamlooked down again at the metal shield he’d obviouslybeen polishing, a bit of rag still gripped in his hand. It was his image in thesomewhat distorted patina. The same face with the same light brown eyes. Eyeshis mother had once referred to as being the color of the seasonal moon, whenon rare nights it went a pale golden orange.
The nose, the jaw, the mouth—allunchanged. He reached behind his head. But his long braid was gone. Other thanthat, he was himself.
Memories slammed into him. Thoughtsthat were more nightmarish than pleasant. Gasping softly, he placed a hand tothe center of his chest and glanced down. There was no fatal wound there. Noteven a scar to show where it had healed, if indeed he’d managed to survive it.
“Samanus,what is wrong with you? What is the matter?” The man gave his arm a nudge. “Areyou all right?”
The words were distant andunfamiliar. A language he didn’t recognize. But, oddly, he understood what theman was saying.
“Samanus?”From the man’s intense stare, it was clear he was speaking toMuam.
Myname isSamanus?
“I…I had a moment of dizziness,”Muamreplied. More puzzling was the fact that he respondedin that odd language. Although he could speak three tongues, this one wascompletely new to him.
“Want some wine?”
“No. I am fine.”Muamgave him a quick smile.
The man snorted and continuedpolishing his sword. “It is a wonder we are still walking upright, with so manyothers dropping all around us. Every morning, more dead litter the streets.” Hecoughed and spat in the dirt. “I do not care what the general tells us. We arenot here as a defense against thatblack death. We arehere to protect the emperor. We are here to be his sacrifices to the gods. Toappease them so they will spare his life.” The man waved an arm to indicate asection where several large pots were lined up. Smoke billowed from the firesbuilt inside them. “I do not care how many urns they burn, or how much incenseis put to the flame. It will never be enough to erase the stench of death thatdaily fills our lungs.”
