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Trunk of Scrolls: A Family Adventure

By Darlene N. Bocek

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BEARDED MEN

MARCH 15, AD 529

I opened my eyes to darkness and light--the stench of strange meat on an open fire, the pungent body odor of bearded men, and the bitterness of my own bile assaulting my senses. Ropes, like snakes twisting tightly on my hands and feet, restrained me from righting myself. Across the night, pulsating flickers of a fire shifted on phantom men, dizzying my attempts to think. Waves of nausea pummeled my sideways world and heavy eyelids opposed my desperate desire to understand. I blinked and all was dark again.
I awoke. My face was buried in the side of a galloping horse. Chilly twilight mixed with musky horse sweat. I tried to make sense of senseless impressions. One thing I knew, my injured body pressed against an empty stomach. The ropes now bound me behind a rider whose form I felt more than saw.
Another rode beyond us: red beard, shaggy hair, and furry cloak flopping with the speed. Tied behind him--my heart skipped a beat--Justin! Then a flitter of memory came back, and I groaned.
Kidnapped.
The ruddy rider's gaze met mine, and he yelled in a burly tongue to my captor. By the time they unloaded me from the horse and tossed me at a tree next to Justin, I realized our dark fate was to die under the hand of these bandits.
My young cousin and I sat in a clearing with dark flatlands before us, a scrub-oak and pine forest behind. Frog songs mixed with the crackling brush they had thrown on the fire. How short my life has been, like that brush turning to ash just as it lights aflame.
Justin rubbed his wet eyes on his shoulder. "You're alive, Marcellus! I'm so glad."
"Where are we?"
"Still in Byzantium. I thought you were dead. They tied you like that. On your stomach with your hands hanging down like a bloodless corpse."
I sighed. We had seen our share of those. "Well, I'm not dead. How did I get here?"
"The night after they took me, a strange horse walked up to their camp. To their horses. And you fell off it to the ground with blood all over you. Where’d you get the horse?"
A large pool of half-dried blood stained the side of my robe and the ache under that stain reminded me of the fight, the fast plan, the horse, the Scrolls.
"How long ago was that?"
"It's been four nights. They force wine into your mouth whenever we stop, but you hardly keep it down." His voice broke just as an owl swooped down over our campsite, grabbing its prey from the field. In an instant it flew off with it to its nest. Taken. Just like us.
"Please, Justin. Stop crying. I need to think. Have you seen any scrolls?"
He sniffed and rubbed his nose. "I was sure you were dead today. Your lips are so dry. Drink something."
He tipped his head toward the pouch hanging on the tree between us. It hung lopsided so we could drink without hands, but the acidic wine did not soothe my thirst. I spit it out. It soured my stomach and now my ears were ringing.
"Don't worry, we'll find a way to escape. At least we're together. Kyrie Eleison."
"Kyrie Eleison," he echoed in a whisper, rubbing tears away. "I'm so glad I'm not alone anymore. And of anyone in the world, that it's you with me."
I stretched a smile onto my face for him, forcing a feeling I did not have, then tried to rally my thoughts. What had happened? The images came to mind. We had been escaping Antioch. Rushing cross-country to the emperor in Constantinople. Bandits attacked. Sword-swiped my back and took Justin. I had grabbed the Scrolls, rushed to the town of Tyana, bought a horse. Followed them.
That was the last I remember. I must have bled-out. Phew! I could have been dead. What a mercy that I was here. What was the likelihood my horse would find their campsite? What was the likelihood I, unconscious, would stay on the horse's back? No likelihood unless….
"Do you know where the Scrolls are?" I asked.
"Byziana's Scrolls? They have them."
"Tell me where."
The bandits sat opposite the fire from us. One of them studied us as he gnawed at a hunk of meat. He scratched a half-bloodied bandage on his thigh, and his eyes narrowed.
"The big guy. With the wide square beard. He’s the boss. He has your things in his saddlebag." My eyes located the man and his bag.
"How did you get my sister's Scrolls?"
His sister. Byziana. Her name burned into my heart, reviving in me the scene of our last embrace. All the things I should have told her flared my urgency to escape. I would not break that last promise I made as she gave me her Scrolls.
Before I could answer Justin, the hefty Goth leader stood to his feet. Trudging over, he grabbed my hair. I resisted, trying to gain control of my head, but he stretched my chin up and stuffed a chunk of cadaverous meat into my mouth, forcing my chin shut. Atrocious! Rotten unknown beast. I gagged. A flash of fury behind his eyes revived my enthusiasm to eat.
He forced Justin in the same uncivilized way and made us each drink a swill of the bitter wine. Then he returned to his co-conspirators flicking his thumb in our direction. Their echoing laughter mocked us across the fire.
Trembling, I grasped at my wrists. If we stayed they would kill us. Or worse. I eyed the bag as I loosened my knot. I would not die passively--we had to get away or die trying. But preferably live trying. I cannot die. What would my mother do, alone in the world? Or the girls, with no one to keep them safe? We had to get back.
"Where are my sisters?" Justin asked.
"They're in Tyana. Waiting for us. Hold on, my knot is almost untied."
"Almost untied! I tried my ropes, but they're too tight."
"We'll leave as soon as they fall asleep," I said.
"I'm glad you're going to free us. But stop looking at the Scrolls. You got to leave them, Marcellus."
"Not a chance!" I glared at him.
The searing pain on my back kept me from analyzing our situation beyond those Scrolls. He chewed his cheek and shrugged at me, so I drew a deep breath of night air and tried to figure out a plan. We'll get untied, get the Scrolls and sneak out. My thinking felt slushy, making me panic. Or is there already another plan?
"Give me your hands," I said when mine were loose.
I gasped for air, somehow out of breath, then reached back my tired fingers and located the knot, seeing its curves in my mind's eye.
"Can you undo it?" Justin asked.
I worked at it for a bit. "I don't know. It's pulled taut."
We should make a plan. Untie his hands. I yawned. Or sleep. That's a good idea.
"They're watching. Stop," Justin hissed.
Without looking up, I bobbed my head against my chest and pretended to nod off in sleep. I tried not to believe my own ruse, fighting a much desired slumber. A flick from Justin roused me to return to the knot. The work rubbed my fingers raw, but soon Justin exhaled relief when his ropes dropped off.
"Stay still," I said.
I tipped onto my side, back to the fire, knees to chest. The shot of pain almost knocked me unconscious. With my back blocking the motions I tugged at my foot bindings, hoping the Goths did not suspect what I was doing.
"Can you do your own feet?" I whispered when untied. "Roll like I did."
He turned his back to the fire and worked on his feet.
"Marcellus. Marcellus." He shook me awake from a comfortable slumber. How long was I out?
"I'm free now. Let's go."
Go where? Do we have a plan? I struggled to remember. Get away. Get the Scrolls. Find the girls. Sleep.
The guards faced the fire, arguing over a game they played with dirt and rocks. Not yet. I settled against the tree. "It's too dangerous. Let's wait." Let's sleep, I meant.

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