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Nasir dreamed before of two large fish that swam the Euphrates to hatch a giant egg, but it was a dream told by a soul lost long ago to him. Sometimes, the voice was melodious, each syllable a lyre note plucked. On those occasions, he thought wistfully of a mother unknown to him. More often than not though, the voice in his dream was a boy's, hushed as if sharing a secret on a hot summer day. In the story, the egg hatched to reveal a beautiful woman he still calls Astarte in his mind.
His dominus hated that and repeated the name Venus to Nasir, over and over again, sometimes reinforced with the back of his hand and other times as fetid breath on the back of Nasir's neck.
Any mention of his dominus made a particular expression on Agron's face appear, as though confronted with a scorpion he would crush below his heel.
"Never aimed at you," Agron had stated first, visibly horrified at the thought when Nasir thought the cruel expression was meant for him. When this ephemeral thing between them was newer still. It had only been weeks then but in so many ways it was already longer -- for Nasir, it was an old name ago. "Never at you," Agron had repeated. "Only at the thought of your dominus still holding power over you."
Nasir knew now of course. There was still a small, cruel, slave-like part of him that mentioned his dominus in passing only to see, to test the strength of Agron's wild and turbulent emotions. He always regretted it after, but never before enjoying the sight of Agron's lip curling in disgust. A petty trick used by slaves (Chadara and Tiberius, he thought) to determine what status they held. He can ease that expression on Agron's face with a kiss, and that was a freedom he enjoyed thoroughly, like a greedy child before a banquet who could never have enough.
~ ~ ~ ~
The riddle came to the camp in form of papyrus sealed with blood red wax. Nasir saw the scroll held aloft by Spartacus, Agron and Crixus beside their leader. Agron as always looked for him in the crowd and smiled when their eyes met.
"Gannicus discovered it among the ruins," Spartacus said.
"What does it say?" one of Agron's kinsmen bellowed. Nasir couldn't remember his name yet.
"That there is a trove of weapons somewhere in the country side, hidden from plain sight," Spartacus responded.
Murmurs spread throughout the group. Nasir, who could now appreciate the artistry necessary for a well crafted gladius, imagined having a new one of his own instead of one scrounged from corpses.
"I have heard of bows made of animal horn," Mira said, her eyes alight with fancy. "Bows that do not need to be repaired over and over."
"Shields with cores of iron," Nasir added, carried away by the fantasy. He shared a smile with Mira, certain that images of fallen Roman soldiers played in her mind's eye as much as his.
"We do not know this to be truth," Spartacus said, interrupting their reverie. "There is a symbol on the scroll that I have never seen, a picture of two large fish--" Nasir's head began to buzz like flies swarming over cracked pomegranate. He raised his hand and watched distantly as Agron's brows did the same.
"I believe I may know of this place," Nasir said, and the rest was drowned by cheers.
~ ~ ~ ~
Nasir led the way with Agron behind him, Crixus and Mira following close behind. Spartacus had wanted a small group with fleet feet, deadly close and at a distance.
"This could be fool's errand," Nasir said again.
"And we heard you, as we did last," Crixus said. "We know the risk. The bounty is worth it, if real."
His dominus was the one responsible for Nasir having intimate knowledge of the land around them. He often hosted gatherings with men of leisure who thought themselves hunters. Nasir would be let loose during day or night, and the hunter would seek the prey, the hunter would have first rights to take liberties. He was advised to be as wily as possible, and in this Nasir used every bit of intelligence he had to evade capture. Men of leisure still had enough power in their hands to force Nasir to kneel and to crouch, even if their class didn't already give them the power.
"I still do not believe your story," Agron said, his voice teasing. "Looking for herbs with old women? More likely it was adventures you dare not tell me."
Nasir had no cause and desire to see the dominus expression on Agron's face. Not today. A quick glance behind him confirmed what Nasir already thought: Agron oblivious, Crixus focused and Mira weary and sad, with an inkling of how and why Nasir knew. He looked up at the white clouds on endless blue sky, the sun a relentless orb. He remembered being hunted like it was yesterday, often on days like this.
"Cease your prattling," Crixus said.
"Do not tell me what to do," Agron said, his voice flat.
"And now is not the time." Nasir took a deep breath. "I believe that is the place," he said, pointing to an outcropping of rocks on the horizon, a small island surrounded by the river. Totally undistinguished in any way, deviously so. "If the scroll refers to lands close to the villa, then this can be the only place."
"Explain," Crixus demanded.
"The legend tells of two fish swimming upstream to hatch a large egg, with a goddess hatching on the shore," Nasir said. "You likely heard the Romans say it was Venus. We had a similar tale in Syria, only her name was Astarte. The birth always happened on the fork."
They crossed the shallow river, the water coming up to Nasir's waist. Mira raised her bow because she believed water to be bad for it. Crixus splashed through first and Nasir saw Agron try and race him but give up on the attempt, choosing instead to face Nasir.
"Every day we are fortunate not to have killed a wild dog," Agron said, his voice hushed. Nasir's chest felt tight, but the smile on his face was effortless was always. He stepped closer to Agron, but his left foot landed on a hollow on the river bed -- he sank unexpectedly and flailed his arms. Agron's laugh was bright and carefree.
"Little man," he said. Nasir felt himself hoisted by his arm. "Go on my back," Agron said, and when Nasir brushed the wet hair out of his face, he saw Mira similarly situated on Crixus' back. Agron chucked and said, "I doubt that either are about to feel the pleasure we feel when we do the same."
Nasir wrapped himself around Agron's broad back and tucked his face in the space between neck and shoulder to bury his smile.
The river was nothing compared to Agron's brute strength and in no time they reached the small island, Mira and Crixus already circling the rocks. Nasir dropped to his feet and crouched down to see if there was a space underneath. Agron investigated the top of the outcropping of rock.
"Watch out," he said, and Nasir drew back. Agron gripped the triangular piece on the top and pulled hard, which wasn't required as it stripped off like bark from a dead tree. He staggered back and let the stone drop. All watched in silence as a small hole was revealed.
A sword's hilt was visible, a beacon even at high noon.
~ ~ ~ ~
It was not quite a trove. It contained three swords of high quality, one large wooden shield with a bronze center, several smaller wooden shields with iron cores, and happily for Mira, two bows made of ivory. Her joy was infectious even if the discovery was not grand. Between them, they carried all the weapons and went back home.
"Not quite the loot from a coliseum," Spartacus noted with some mirth on their return.
"Perhaps not for you," Mira said, "but for me it is a blessing." She stroked the bow and Nasir was amused and somewhat fearful of the expression on Mira's face. He glanced up quickly and noticed the same expression on Spartacus' face.
Crixus had already claimed one sword and slashed at air, an impressed Naevia at his side. Spartacus claimed the other one. The third lay strapped to Agron's waist. The shields were already being fought for by the rest of the gladiators. Nasir noted the scuffling with a smile, then took off to the quarters that he and Agron shared.
"You disappeared quickly," Agron said behind him. When Nasir turned to face him, Agron was holding the sword with both hands as if it weighed a feather. It lay flat on both of his palms on generous offer. "It is rightfully yours as we would never have found it."
Nasir shook his head. "It is yours to keep."
A stubborn expression set on Agron's face. "It is rightfully yours," he repeated.
"And I would rather you keep it," Nasir said, confused. He met his German's eyes and tried to read the expressions flickering there. Agron's nostrils flared in anger. "Why are you angry?"
Agron tossed the sword on the pallet. "I am not an idiot, Nasir. It may have occurred too late to me, but I have some fucking sense."
"I have never believed you are." He looked up as Agron stepped closer. Nasir closed his eyes as Agron's large hands clasped his cheeks, a gesture familiar and beloved.
"I have some idea of how you know the lands," Agron said. "I was a slave too."
Nasir opened his eyes. There it was, the expression on Agron's face when the thought of Nasir's old dominus crossed his thoughts. Nasir had never hated the expression more.
"I know our chances," Agron continued. "We stare death in the face every day. Let me give you one thing you find beautiful, one thing you will find useful."
You have already given me that, Nasir thought, but couldn't put proper voice to it.
But maybe it was not necessary. Agron's eyes gleamed, a small smile curved his lips. The kiss they shared blotted out the rest of the world.
~ ~ ~ ~
Later, spent on top of Agron's body, Agron's contentment palpable in the room, their breaths slowing down from harsh gasping lungfuls of air to slow, warm exchanges of air with their lips close, it occurred to Nasir that there was one story Agron deserved to know.
"Do not mention your dominus," Agron said, stiffening in all the wrong ways. "Not now, Nasir."
"No, you are mistaken." Nasir took a deep breath. "My name means helper, did you know that?"
Agron shook his head, confused but listening, his eyes alert.
"Nasir the helper and Imad the supporter," Nasir said. "Me and my brother." He caught it just in time before telling the story, Agron's delighted face. Nasir had to close his eyes against its power but committed Agron's unfettered happiness to memory like a talisman, like a shiny stone to hold out in the sun to see how the light would bounce back.
THE END