Guarding the gates of the golden city of Constantinople,
Gallienus notices a merchant from the Silk Road. This young
man, Misahuen, returns his interest and the two later chat
over drinks in the inn. The tongue they have in common is
Greek. A relationship between men is not unusual in
Misahuen's culture, but the Byzantine Emperor in
Constantinople forbids such liaisons so they need to be
careful. Shipments contain herbs, spices, silks, kaolin and
the smuggled opium. The men consider that the only way
they can live together freely is to travel to the CITY OF
JADE.
Alexandretta is the port city the two reach while escorting
a trade caravan. They hear rumours of tensions in Antioch;
another crusade may be approaching. Bandits attack in the
desert, and in Baghdad, Saracens stride through the
streets. Nishapur is a city decorated with turquoise, and
Byzantine glass and ivory-bound prayer books are sold. The
world is large, but all nations meet on the Silk Road.
I found that this is not so much a series of adventures, as
a travelogue in ancient times, full of detail and
atmosphere. The two men learn and grow and become ever
more supportive of each other and of their hidden
relationship, with Misahuen becoming stronger in lands
nearer his own culture and Galienus becoming self-conscious
of his fairer skin and hair. Shaoxing the CITY OF JADE is
just one of the major Chinese cities at this time, and
although the two friends want to live in peace, they find
that unsettled times mean there is work for warriors
wherever they go.
LJ Labarthe has filled CITY OF JADE with research and the
excitement of the times and rich cultures, as well as a
lasting romance between two fine strong men. She also
writes paranormal stories and urban fantasy, and
contemporary Australian stories.
1131, The Silk Road.
Gallienus of Constantinople, a scarred soldier who used to
work the city gates, enters a new phase of his life when he
meets and falls in love with Misahuen of Gyeongju. But
prejudice against same-sex relationships dominates Byzantine
society, and both the Emperor and the Church denounce such
love. Should Misahuen and Gallienus be discovered, the
punishment is castration or death. Fearing he’ll lose
Misahuen, Gallienus decides to go with Misahuen when he
leaves the city forever.
A former farmer, Misahuen fled war-torn Korea and journeyed
to Constantinople with a merchant caravan. He didn’t expect
to take such an interest in a wounded soldier at journey’s
end. But he understands the danger, so he and Gallienus join
another caravan as guardsmen and begin a two-thousand-mile
trip along the Silk Road. Now all they have to do is
persevere to their final destination without the truth of
their relationship being discovered and being killed because
of it… or by the other dangers along the Road.
Excerpt
THE chamber in the caravanserai was small, little more than a low cave, but
Gallienus didn’t feel too much discomfort. It reminded him of military
barracks when he’d been on campaigns, or the tight quarters of the soldiers
and the Varangian Guards in Constantinople. It was more than adequate for
this time of year, the beginning of the year 1132 anno Domini. He ate the
simple meal of dates, leavened bread, and roast goat with Misahuen in
companionable silence, shifting a little as his hip twinged in protest at being
in one position for too long.
“Are you in pain?” Misahuen’s face mirrored his concern.
“No, I’m all right.” Gallienus looked fondly at his lover.
“These are small lodgings,” Misahuen said carefully, “we could have—”
“No,” Gallienus cut him off. “No, we didn’t have enough money.”
“I have some money,” Misahuen said softly.
“And you should keep it.” Gallienus shook his head. “We’re still within the
boundaries of the empire; there’s going to come a time when we won’t be and
we’ll need every piece of gold, every scrap of currency that we have. We won’t
always be part of a trader’s caravan as hired guards.”
Misahuen picked up a date and took a small bite. “I suppose,” he said finally.
“However, I do not think the merchant would mind if we asked for more
room.”
“No.” Gallienus looked seriously at him. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
Misahuen huffed quietly and Gallienus chuckled.
“You worry too much,” Gallienus added.
“One must, for you certainly will not.” Misahuen shook his head. “I am tense.”
Gallienus pushed the small table that held the remains of their meal to the
side and stretched out both of his legs. Holding his arms out to his lover, he
said, “Share the load, love. It gets lighter with two to carry it.”
Crawling into Gallienus’s arms, Misahuen sighed. “I fear I do not know what I
am worried about the most. That we are leaving behind your home because of
our relationship or that we are traveling to places unknown, or that we have
little money or… are therecaravanserais like this one everywhere? I arrived in
Constantinople by a different route than the one we are on now.”
As he wrapped his arms around Misahuen, Gallienus hummed thoughtfully.
“That is a lot of things to worry about to be sure. Along this part of the route
there are caravanserais, but I think that as we keep heading east, towards the
Holy Lands, we will find things… difficult.”
Misahuen shifted to look at Gallienus with a raised eyebrow. “Difficult?”
“War,” Gallienus said, shrugging one shoulder.
“Oh.” Misahuen sighed once more and relaxed into the embrace. “It is never-
ending.”
“That’s God’s honest truth.” Gallienus kissed the top of Misahuen’s head.
“Besides. We are together, we’re warm and safe, we have work and a little
money. Everything is fine.”
“All right, jagi.”
“I love that you call me this.”
Misahuen slid his hand beneath Gallienus’s tunica. He ghosted his fingers
over his stomach, and Gallienus couldn’t suppress the shiver at the fleeting
touch, trying not to wriggle. “That… tickles a little,” he admitted.
“Apologies.” Misahuen’s touch became firmer. “Is that better?”
“Much.”
“I am glad.” Misahuen continued to move his hand over Gallienus’s stomach.
“Jagi fits you,” he said. “You are my heart, you see.”
“You’re very romantic,” Gallienus said, his fingers touching Misahuen’s chin
and gently tilting his face up so he could look into his lover’s eyes. “I love
you.”
Misahuen’s smile was warm. “I love you.”
Gallienus kissed him, soft and slow, and purred low in his throat as Misahuen
responded eagerly to him, reaching up to cup Gallienus’s cheek with one
hand. Gallienus hummed into the kiss, warmth and contentment filling him as
Misahuen pressed close.
He felt a sense of living in a bubble—their love hidden behind a veil of
secrecy, behaving as if they were nothing more than good friends who had
decided on the adventure of traveling with a merchant train to see the world.
Gallienus knew this was the wisest course of action, for attitudes toward those
who loved members of their own sex were harsh and sometimes violent.
Gallienus was determined to keep their fiction that way. He worried, though,
that he and Misahuen might be exposed, despite all their precautions.
Gallienus wasn’t sure how he would react to that if it did occur—he decided
the only thing to do was to cross that bridge if they should come to it. There
was no point in borrowing trouble, after all, and their little ruse had been
accepted by the merchant and his employees easily.
There were other concerns too. Gallienus had made the decision to leave
Constantinople almost on impulse. He had written his family a note and paid a
passing messenger to deliver it to them, but he felt guilty for not having
visited with them to say his good-byes in person. Yet it was done, and
Gallienus hoped there would be an opportunity to send a longer letter to his
family as they traveled. He thought they would understand—he had, after all,
been in the army and away from home before.
For now, everything was all right, everything was safe. The worries of today
would, he knew, still be there tomorrow.
IT WAS late when Gallienus awoke. Carefully, he disentangled himself from
Misahuen sleeping in his arms, and in the dim light of the lamp outside the
cubicle they shared, tugged on his clothes and belted on his sword.
“Jagi? Is everything all right?” Misahuen’s voice was full of sleep.
“Yes, everything is fine.” Gallienus leaned down and brushed a chaste kiss
over Misahuen’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
His lover hummed softly, and Gallienus straightened and quietly left the
cubicle, making sure the thick drapes which served as a door were closed
behind him.
He could not say what it was that had awoken him. The caravanserai was
silent, save for the occasional grunt and snort of a camel coming from the
stables. He stretched, pulling a face as his hip protested, and slowly made his
way down the corridor between each cubicle with its sleeping occupants,
toward the arched opening that led to the gentle incline that took him
outside.
The caravanserai was one of the better places Gallienus had stayed, carved
from rock that loomed in strange shapes everywhere in this part of the
Byzantine Empire, and well tended by the owners, it functioned as more than
just an inn. It was a place of safety, surrounded by thick walls with towers and
patrolled by guards in full armor and for a price—a very steep price—
merchants, their trains, and travelers along the Silk Road could stay and rest,
refresh, and relax.
Gallienus quickly checked on the horses in the sandy-floored stable, picketed
near the water trough with the mules that accompanied the camels in the
merchant’s train. Satisfied that they were all right, he made his way toward
the wide, arched doorway and out of thecaravanserai.
The moon was a sliver of silver in the sky, and the shadows of the strange
outcroppings of rock that made up what was called Göreme loomed over the
landscape like giants frozen forever in time. Gallienus made his way toward
the wall, climbing the shallow stairs with little difficulty. He had to stop and
rest his hip once he reached the parapet, pausing to get his breath as he
rubbed his leg.
“Greetings, friend.”
Gallienus turned, his hand automatically going to his sword hilt. When he saw
the man who had spoken, he relaxed a little, although he kept his hand
resting on the pommel of his weapon.
“And to you, friend.”
“What brings you up here at this time of night?” The man tilted his head to
one side in curiosity. He was armored but wore no helmet, and a sword and
dagger were sheathed at his hip, and in a sling over his shoulder, a long-
handled axe. His belt pouch sat on the sword belt on the opposite hip to his
weapons, and Gallienus made sure to keep his movements slow and obvious
so as not to startle the man into violence. The reputation of his kind was
formidable, after all: he was a Varangian Guard, one of those elite warriors
hired by the Byzantine Emperor to be his personal bodyguard and special
forces in warfare.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Gallienus admitted with a wry shrug. “Old habits die hard, I
suppose. I’m still too accustomed to taking the last watch.”
The Varangian chuckled softly. “I know the feeling very well. You are a soldier
then?”
“Retired.” Gallienus indicated his hip. “An injury prevented me from returning
to duty, so I was assigned gate duty—much like this—in Constantinople.”
The man nodded in understanding. “It is difficult to go from the battlefield to
the wall. Difficult and somehow insulting, as if all we are good for is war and
when that occupation is taken from us, we are patted on the head and sent off
to languish in occupations that are best left to the city’s militia.”
“It is, a little,” Gallienus admitted. “I take it you are in the same predicament?”
“In a sense,” the Varangian Guardsman said. “I am Sven of Kiev,” he
introduced himself. “Varangian Guard.” He extended his hand.
“Gallienus,” he replied, taking Sven’s arm in a firm grip and feeling the grip
returned on his own, the greeting of equals. He chuckled. “Not so grand as a
Varangian, I fear. Merely a regular warrior of the emperor’s armies, injured on
campaign and retired to work as a gate guard and inspect trade goods as they
entered Constantinople.”
“An honor to meet you, Gallienus.” Sven released Gallienus’s arm and looked
out over the dark landscape of Göreme. “I took my leave of Constantinople
several months ago. I grew weary of the endless, almost overwhelming
debauchery.” He shrugged. “I am a warrior, good Gallienus, not a drunkard
and a layabout. There was no glory and no war to keep me in Constantinople,
so I left.”
“Just like that?” Gallienus was astonished. “How were you able to do so?”
Sven looked amused. “Who, pray, is going to stop me? I am Varangian; no one
interferes with us.”
Gallienus shook his head. “I didn’t think. But I confess, I don’t quite
understand—aren’t you bound by your oath to the emperor not to leave the
Guards until his death?”
“Yes,” Sven said, “but we also have the right to petition for release from that
oath, and if the Emperor sees fit to grant it, he does. Most Varangians don’t
do this—I did, the emperor agreed, and so here I am. In Göreme, guarding a
wall of a caravanserai.”
“I hated guarding the wall,” Gallienus admitted. “I found it degrading.”
Sven’s lips curved in a smile. “Here is not Miklagard—what you Byzantines call
Constantinople. Here is wild and dangerous and on the frontier. We are
frequently attacked from all directions. It’s exciting, friend Gallienus. It’s what
a Varangian was born to do: fight with his weapons, put terror into the hearts
of his enemies, and, of course, make a lot of money.”
Gallienus laughed softly at that. “And I suppose the ale and wenches don’t
hurt, either.”
“Not in the slightest, my friend. But in moderation.” Sven clapped Gallienus
companionably on the shoulder.
“I wish you good fortune, then.” Gallienus looked up at the moon. “I should go
and get more rest. The train moves out the day after tomorrow.”
“Would you take advice on the road east?” Sven asked.
“Definitely,” Gallienus said.
“There are parts of the route that fork,” Sven said seriously. “And they rejoin
into one roadway several miles later. Do not take the more traveled fork at
any time, Gallienus. That is where the unwary are lulled by the good
conditions of the road and attacked by brigands, and they are vicious and give
no quarter. Always take the fork that looks rough and less traveled and you
will be safe.”
“Thank you.” Gallienus gripped Sven’s arm firmly. “I appreciate the
information.”
“You’re most welcome.” Sven returned the grip. “We serve the same empire, in
our own ways. Go with God, my friend.”
“And you, my friend.” Gallienus turned and slowly made his way down from
the wall, then returning to the interior of the caravanseraiand the chamber he
shared with Misahuen.
Misahuen was curled in a ball, clutching the covers to him when Gallienus
returned. “You are back.”
“I am.” Gallienus stripped off his clothes and got into the bed, letting out a
long, contented sigh as Misahuen covered him with blankets and then pressed
close, arms going around him.
“I am glad.” Misahuen kissed Gallienus’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Gallienus shifted a little to ease the ever-present ache in his hip. “I took
a walk upon the wall and spoke with one of the guards. Now I require two
things.”
“What are those?”
“Rest and you.”
Misahuen laughed softly. “Flatterer,” he teased. “And I feel the same way
about you.”
“Do you indeed?” Gallienus ran his hands down Misahuen’s back, and he
smirked as Misahuen let out a soft gasp and pressed closer.
“Yes,” Misahuen’s voice was slightly breathy. “I do.” He shifted in Gallienus’s
arms and kissed him, Gallienus making a quiet noise of approval into his
lover’s mouth as the kiss quickly grew passionate.
“We’ll have to be quiet,” Gallienus said as Misahuen slid a hand down to his
groin.
“I know.” Misahuen kissed Gallienus again, wrapping his hand around
Gallienus’s cock and stroking him slowly. “We can stop if you wish,” he added
between kisses.
“No, I don’t wish.” Gallienus growled and rolled onto his back, pulling
Misahuen on top of him. He moved his hands to Misahuen’s ass, kneading for
a moment before he pulled him down hard and began rocking against him.
Misahuen gave voice to a quiet, hungry moan as their cocks slid together,
burying his face in the crook of Gallienus’s neck.
There was not enough room for anything more than rutting and rubbing
against each other, but Gallienus didn’t mind. The soft noises of Misahuen
panting against his neck and little whimpering moans as delicious friction
brought his lover closer to orgasm were aphrodisiac themselves, and
Gallienus had to bite the inside of his cheek hard in order to stay quiet.
Misahuen’s hand was still on his cock, and Gallienus made a choking noise as
his deft fingers wrapped around both their cocks and stroked, pulling them
both toward completion.
“Jagi,” Misahuen whispered in Gallienus’s ear, a breath of ragged want and
longing, “Gallienus.”
Gallienus’s embrace tightened as he neared orgasm, and when he came, it
was only a few moments after Misahuen. “Misahuen,” Gallienus panted as he
turned his head to kiss his lover’s cheek. Misahuen relaxed on top of him,
humming quietly, and Gallienus stifled a laugh.
“Beloved?”
“Yes, jagi?”
“We’re sticky.”
“There is water here.” Misahuen shifted, and Gallienus could see the outline of
his body as Misahuen fumbled in the near-darkness for cloth and water. He
almost let out a pained yelp as he felt a splash of cold liquid on him and
glared as Misahuen grinned at him, his teeth white in the dimness.
“Warn me next time,” Gallienus muttered. “I could have woken the entire
caravanserai!”
“That would have been most regrettable,” Misahuen agreed as he finished
cleaning Gallienus up and then cleaned himself. He lay down beside Gallienus,
and then as he pillowed his head on Gallienus’s shoulder, he added, “And no
doubt would have led to some awkward questions.”
“No doubt.” Gallienus grunted as he tugged up the blankets. “Don’t let me
forget to let Master Merchant Stephanos know of the information about the
road that I received from Sven upon the wall.”
“I shall do my best.” Misahuen pressed a gentle kiss to Gallienus’s neck.
“Sleep.”
“You too,” Gallienus admonished, but he was weary and it was only a matter
of moments before he felt himself drifting into slumber.
“TAKE the less traveled forks, you say?” Stephanos regarded Gallienus with a
skeptical expression. “Are you sure?”
“That’s the advice Sven gave me.” Gallienus shrugged. His chain mail felt
heavy that morning, and shifting his shoulders to move the weight a little, he
continued. “He is Varangian; he has no reason to lie.” Around them, the other
ten guards were preparing their animals, readying them for the day ahead,
and the cook and his three young helpers were loading a cart.
“Varangians.” Stephanos spat on the ground, drawing Gallienus’s attention
back to him. Gallienus said nothing, well aware of the prejudice many
Byzantines had against the elite forces hired from Kiev to serve the Emperor.
“They are opportunistic barbarian pirates, Gallienus. Why should I follow the
counsel of one? Their only allegiance is to coin.”
“Because we spoke soldier-to-soldier,” Gallienus said calmly. “And I feel it
would be foolish if we did not take his advice.”
Stephanos shook his head. “I am not convinced. But you and I are Byzantine
and you, I trust. If you think the Varangian’s word has value and his counsel is
sound, then we shall follow it. However, if we end up being ambushed and
goods are lost, the value comes from your pay. Understood?”
“Understood, Stephanos,” Gallienus said, fighting the instinctive urge to
salute. He was not particularly fond of the merchant, but Stephanos had hired
him and Misahuen as packtrain guards without asking questions, and he was
headed toward the city of Chang’an in China, so Gallienus kept his opinions to
himself and Misahuen. “Do you think we will find snow as we travel?”
Stephanos’s expression changed, going from wary and annoyed to worried. “I
fear we will. We left the golden city in good time, but the seasons move at
their own speed and our animals cannot always keep ahead of them. It will be
difficult in some places, it always is—will you be able to cope with it?”
Gallienus shrugged again. “I have before, I will again. Fret not about me, good
Stephanos. I will not delay your arrival in China by my own mortality.”
“That is not what I meant.” Stephanos’s eyes narrowed. “You have an injury
and you are old. I do not wish harm to come to you on the journey, for
despite these things, you excel at your task and your companion does too. I
would hate to lose two excellent guards because of the weather.”
“I’m touched,” Gallienus said dryly. “But we’ll be all right.”
Stephanos shook his head. “Very well.” He turned to look at the other
members of his train, his sons who worked with him, and his wife, and the
dozen or so armored men who worked as his guards. “Mount up,” he ordered.
“We leave in an hour.”
Gallienus bit his tongue as he walked toward his horse and Misahuen. He kept
his expression neutral, but Misahuen quirked an eyebrow as he handed
Gallienus the reins of his mount.
“Jagi?”
“Stephanos is a fool,” Gallienus muttered, taking the reins with a nod of
thanks. Mounting his horse, he shook his head. “We are just armored meat to
him.”
“I know.” Misahuen mounted his own horse and rode beside Gallienus as the
train started out of the caravanserai and onto the road. “He thinks only of
money.”
Gallienus snorted. “If he did not pay so well, I would suggest we strike out on
our own. But we need the security of this train as we leave the boundaries of
the empire. At least he does not intend to go deep into the Holy Lands, and
we have the security of numbers and comrades in arms as we travel toward
China.”
“That is true. However, we are not obligated to stay with this train forever.”
“Nor will we.” Gallienus shook his head. “He thinks the winter will catch up
with us and I will be a risk.”
“How?” Misahuen’s expression mirrored his confusion.
“He thinks I will slow the train down. Because of my… condition.”
Misahuen looked even more confused. Gallienus watched as Misahuen’s
expression grew outraged and he swore at length in Korean. Gallienus raised
an eyebrow, amused at his lover’s outburst.
“Are you finished?”
“For the moment.” Misahuen was still frowning. “How can you be so calm
about this?”
“We need him more than he needs us.” Gallienus shook his head.
“Unfortunate, but true. Anyway, we will be making camp just outside of
Antioch tonight, and you can continue to teach me the language of China.”
“It is not one language,” Misahuen replied. “I have told you, it is many.”
“I know. It is the same in Byzantium. Many languages, many cultures, one
empire. Yet we can be understood one to the other when necessary, and you
said there was a similar language in China, yes?”
Misahuen opened his mouth then closed it again. “In a way,” he said finally. “It
will take too long to explain,” he added.
“We’ll be on the road for a long time,” Gallienus pointed out. “You can explain
as we ride.”
“Very well, then.”
ALEXANDRETTA was a seaside city. The hustle and bustle that Gallienus was
so used to was not prevalent here, which was not to say that Alexandretta was
small and quiet. The city seemed to devote all trade to the docks. Large ships
were moored at anchor just off the port, sailors shouting and swearing as
they waited impatiently for those already docked to unload or reload and
move so others could take their place.
Goods from the west were being unloaded with the shouts and cries of
quartermasters. Woolens, weapons, glassware, silverware, and more were
removed from the ships and loaded into packs of waiting mules and camels.
The caravan rode down the wide boulevard between the city’s waterfront
buildings and the docks, Gallienus looking around with interest.
“This seems to be quite a centralized port,” he mused to Misahuen. “I know
that crest on that man over there; it’s a duchy in Frankia. And that ship, her
flags are flying the colors of Genoa.”
“Many Westerners then,” Misahuen said. “And many Easterners too.” He
nodded in the direction of another train coming toward them, the merchant
and his people dressed in the fine, elegant silks of China.
Stephanos called a halt, and he and the Chinese merchant spoke for a while.
Then they clasped each other’s hands, and each train started moving again,
Stephanos leading them away. Gallienus looked over his shoulder at the back
of the caravan from China, wondering again about the lands they were riding
toward and the people who lived there. Whatever questions he had in mind
were forgotten as they rode past the last ship and entered a huge commercial
square with tents and stalls and all manner of wares and goods for sale.
“I will take you two,” Stephanos singled out two of the guards, “and this pack
mule and go and do business. The rest of you, wait here.” He was gone
without another word, and Gallienus chuckled to himself at Stephanos’s
brusque attitude and dismounted.
Misahuen followed suit, raising his arms and stretching as Gallienus rested his
own arms on his saddle. “This is a beautiful city,” Misahuen remarked.
“Relaxed.”
“I was thinking it was not what I expected and you have put the finger on the
why.” Gallienus looked around at the boulevard, the palm trees, some heavily
laden with dates, rustling in the soft sea breeze. “It is relaxed. More than
Constantinople ever was.”
“Perhaps because it is not the capital of an empire,” Misahuen said.
“Although it is named for an emperor,” Gallienus said. “Alexander the Great.”
“I have heard of him.” Misahuen tilted his head to the side. “He was a
conqueror, was he not?”
“Aren’t all men who dream of empire conquerors?” Gallienus breathed deeply,
and exhaled, letting out a soft sigh at the scent of warm sea air. He felt more
relaxed here in Alexandretta than he had so far along the road. He had no
illusions, however, that he would continue to feel relaxed, at least not until
the dangers of the Holy Lands were behind them. Dangers such as brigands,
mercenaries, and weather were one thing, but Gallienus remembered all too
well the tales told of the Crusade.
“We will not stay the night,” Stephanos announced as he returned. He was
smiling and Gallienus surmised his brief business had gone well. “We will
press on now to Antioch.” He clucked at his mount, and Gallienus rolled his
eyes as he mounted his own horse, Misahuen falling in beside him.
The ride to Antioch was uneventful. They passed other traders riding toward
Constantinople, their animals heavily laden with packs and their guards hard-
faced and wary. Each of these encounters was brief—Stephanos spoke with
the lead merchant, exchanging information about the road conditions, the
weather, and the trends of trade, and then each train moved on its separate
way.
As they crested the low hills that bordered the outskirts of the city of Antioch,
Stephanos called a halt. “All right,” he said as he looked at the men he had
hired to guard his train, “we are entering Antioch. I do not want you to
disappear into the taverns and brothels; that isn’t why I’m paying you. I have a
little business to do here, and we will make camp just outside the city walls
with the other traders. Keep your eyes open and do not allow anyone to steal
from me. Am I understood?”
The men nodded, some saluting, and Gallienus looked around at the train,
wondering what Stephanos was carrying in his packs. Brass and bronze plates
and bowls to be sure, wood carvings, glassware, and the elaborate jewelry so
valued in the East, made with the yellow gold that was highly prized by the
noble elite. But there were other packs, and Gallienus could not help but
wonder if Stephanos were carrying some kind of contraband as well. He had
heard talk, when he served in the Empire’s army, that traders often
supplemented their income with money made by trading the dried poppies of
the lands around Kabul and the wilds of the Byzantine Empire with courtiers in
the Abbasid Caliphate of Persia or Samarkand in the Seljuk Empire, and he
had confiscated contraband while working on the city wall. He said nothing,
however, simply followed orders and formed up around the packtrain with
Misahuen at his side.
“I assume we will not be permitted to enter the city?” Misahuen spoke in an
undertone as they rode.
“I think that would be a fair assessment.” Gallienus raised a hand to shield his
eyes against the glare of the sun as they rode toward Antioch. “I am glad not
to.”
“You do not wish to see Antioch? I have heard it is one of the wonders of the
world.”
“Perhaps it is. I won’t feel comfortable exploring until we’re out of the Holy
Lands completely.” Gallienus shrugged.
“I see.” Misahuen’s voice echoed his confusion, but he didn’t push and
Gallienus was glad. He didn’t feel like explaining it right then, for the vista of
Antioch, golden and lovely, shimmering in the light of the sun, captured his
attention.
“I have never seen its like,” Gallienus breathed.
“Does it compare to Constantinople then?” Misahuen’s lips twitched with
suppressed mirth and Gallienus chuckled, realizing that he was being teased.
“Nowhere compares with Constantinople.” He nodded in emphasis. “But
Antioch is considered the city of higher learning, and poets and scholars like
to describe it in what I often thought were exaggerated terms.”
“It is very beautiful,” Misahuen agreed, “although Constantinople has more
color.”
Gallienus blinked in surprise at that and considered it. “I see what you mean,”
he mused. “There are more buildings built to be decorative as well as
functional in my city. Here, they do not seem to be overly concerned with
decorations.”
“There are cities in China that will take your breath away.” Misahuen shifted in
his saddle as his horse pawed the ground. “Chang’an, the capital, reminds me
of my homeland.”
Gallienus turned to face him. “Are you truly sure you do not desire to return
there, Misahuen? We could, if it is what you wish.” He was curious to see if
Misahuen would tell him more about his family and the life he had fled, even
as he wondered again if he would be able to write to his own family. A small
part of him pondered his decisions, whether or not he had made the right one
by leaving Constantinople behind him because of the love he had for
Misahuen. His beloved broke through Gallienus’s reverie, and Gallienus
pushed his thoughts aside and concentrated on Misahuen’s words.
Misahuen shook his head. “No, jagi, I do not wish to return. There is too much
conflict, too much turmoil. And, too, you would be killed simply for your
appearance. You are too pale,” he elaborated. “You are golden, jagi, like your
city.”
Gallienus hummed. “I see. I confess, I did not think of that.”
“You come from a culture of conquerors,” Misahuen went on, “a culture that
extends back thousands of years, a culture of aggression and expansion.
Therefore, it is in your blood to assume that you will be treated as equal no
matter where you go in the world. Such is not the case, however. I wish that it
were otherwise, but not everyone is as trusting of outsiders as others.”
“Or as familiar with different cultures and lands as those who live along the
route?”
“That as well.” Misahuen clucked to his horse as the train started down the
dusty road toward Antioch. “I think you would find yourself embroiled in
fights in my homeland, jagi. You have a short temper.”
Gallienus laughed. “You don’t know that.”
“I suspect it.” Misahuen grinned. “But no, I do not wish to return home. I left
my land for a reason, and while perhaps the situation there has changed,
there truly is nothing left for me there. Everyone I knew and loved is gone, the
village where I lived is destroyed. I do not wish to return to a land full of
nothing but sorrow and the shades of the beloved dead.”
There wasn’t much Gallienus could say to that. He rode in thoughtful silence
beside Misahuen as the train made its way down to the city walls and around
them to a sea of tents that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.
Antioch’s merchant camp seemed to be a district of the city, comprised of
canvas, silk, and animal hides.
They rode in a long, narrow column between the awnings and fabrics of this
tent city adjoining the great walls of Antioch, the scents of exotic spices and
roasting meats rich in the air. There were other scents too, less appealing, but
Gallienus ignored them as Stephanos led the train to a part of the camp that
showed signs of having recently been vacated.
“We will camp here,” the merchant announced as he swung down from the
saddle of his horse. “See to it.” With that, he was gone, threading his way
between tents and disappearing. Two guards followed him at a discreet
distance. His sons helped his wife down from her horse and started making
camp for her.
Gallienus dismounted, wincing a little as his hip twinged in protest. He took
hold of his horse’s reins and led the patient animal toward a hastily erected
picket line. He tethered his mount, then turned and looked at the area they
were to make camp and sighed. “Where’s a shovel?”
“Here, Gallienus,” Niketas, a fellow guard, called. He tossed it to Gallienus and
Gallienus caught it, letting out a grunt.
“Thank you,” he said.
Niketas laughed. “It is no trouble, my friend. Let us see to the camp.”
“All right,” Gallienus said.
THEY quickly set up the camp, and Gallienus was nursing a tankard of ale as
he watched Misahuen assist Cook.
Three of his fellow guards—Niketas, Justin, and Valens—joined Gallienus as
he sat, and he smiled at them and nodded a greeting.
“A good beginning to our journey, do you not agree?” Valens asked.
Niketas laughed at that. “None have died yet, so yes, I suppose it is.”
“The weather has held fair, and Stephanos has done well with his trade, so we
have food aplenty,” Justin said. “Cook and his boys prepare fine dishes for us
to eat and we are not lacking in wine or ale or water. Aye, it is a good
beginning.”
“And your stomach dictates this?” Niketas asked.
Justin laughed. “No, not at all. I am merely thinking of practicalities. Traveling
on light rations makes for a hard journey.”
They all murmured agreement at that.
“Gallienus,” Valens said, turning to look at him, “how is that you come to have
joined us with Misahuen?”
“How did the two of you come to meet?” Niketas added.
Gallienus took a careful sip of his ale. He was very alert, aware that a
misspoken word could make things very difficult for him and his lover. He
swallowed his mouthful and then smiled, leaning back a little as he looked at
his three fellow guardsmen.
“We met in Constantinople,” Gallienus said. “I found my duties as a gate guard
to be… unpalatable.”
“Unpalatable?” Justin quirked an eyebrow.
“I was a soldier in his majesty’s armies,” Gallienus said. “I was injured on
campaign. Not so much as to be retired but not so little as to be permitted to
return to the battlefield. So, I was assigned to gate duty.” He wrinkled his
nose. “I hated it. I found it dull and demeaning. The attitudes of the younger
guards were… frustrating. They behaved as if they were members of the
emperor’s own household!”
“Ah, youth,” Valens said, chuckling. “Youth and hubris go hand in hand.”
“It is true,” Gallienus agreed. “So you see, I did not enjoy the posting. The only
thing I found interesting was meeting merchants from all over the world who
came to trade in our beloved city.”
“Glorious Constantinople and Byzantium,” Niketas said. His tone of voice was
a little wistful and Gallienus nodded.
“Glory forever,” he agreed.
“Go on, Gallienus,” Justin said.
“Well, one day, a caravan arrived from a place called Korea. That is where I
met Misahuen, working as a guard and we talked a little. I found the tales he
told of the road and the thrill of travel from one side of the world to the other
to be exciting and it fired my blood. I began to think that perhaps there was a
more satisfactory alternative to life, that perhaps I could still find adventure
and leave behind the city walls.”
“Ahh,” Valens said. “I understand. You wished to see the world and your
friendship with Misahuen gave you the opportunity to do so.”
“Yes. That is it exactly.” It was not precisely the truth, but it was a simple lie
that Gallienus felt comfortable with. “The merchant that Misahuen worked for
remained in our golden city for some time. When we were not at our
respective duties, Misahuen and I would meet at one of the city inns and talk.
The more we talked, the stronger our friendship became. So when he made
me the offer to join him and work as a guard for a caravan traveling along the
great trade routes, it was not difficult to decide to take up the suggestion.”
“So you work in tandem and share the loot?” Niketas asked.
Gallienus nodded.
“That makes much more sense than striking out alone,” Justin said. “Working
together in a partnership means that someone is there to watch your back—
and watch your possessions—as you watch theirs. You keep each other and
each other’s goods safe until you reach journey’s end and decide what to do
next.”
“Entirely so,” Gallienus said.
Justin clapped his shoulder. “I wish I had met someone with whom I liked well
enough to form such a partnership. Alas, I must keep a watch on my own
purse without anyone to guard my back.”
Valens laughed. “You exaggerate. You have us.”
They all laughed at that. Gallienus felt enormously relieved.
“Come, let us get some more ale,” Niketas said. He got to his feet. “More for
you, Gallienus?”
“Thank you, yes.”
Niketas took his tankard, and with Valens, he headed toward the stores where
Cook kept the wine and beer.
Justin groaned and got to his feet. “And I must go to stand guard.”
“I hope it is a quiet night for you,” Gallienus said by way of farewell.
Misahuen was walking quickly toward him, and Gallienus smiled at his lover.
As Misahuen joined him and sat down, Gallienus filled him in on the fiction he
had told the others.
Misahuen nodded slowly. “That was clever indeed. And they accepted this?”
“Yes, they did.” Gallienus shook his head. “Thank God.”
Misahuen smiled at that. “There, you see, you were worrying for naught.”
“On this matter, I feel I worried just enough,” Gallienus retorted. Then he
laughed. “I confess, I feel greatly relieved.”
“I am glad,” Misahuen said. “They return with ale.”
“Yes. I will drink with them and then we will have our meal,” Gallienus said.
Misahuen got to his feet and dusted off his hands. “Yes. Food will be ready
soon,” he said, as Niketas and Valens got within earshot. “Cook has sent me
over to tell you this.”
“Excellent, Misahuen.” Niketas handed Gallienus his tankard. “I am extremely
hungry.”
“You are always hungry,” Valens said. He laughed at that. “I am too, when I
travel.”
The two sat down with Gallienus once more. “Justin has gone on guard duty?”
Niketas asked.
“Yes.” Gallienus took a sip of his ale. “Thank you. And thank you for alerting
us to the nearness of our meal, Misahuen.”
Misahuen grinned. “It is nothing.” He gave them a shallow bow and returned
to the cook fires.
“He is a good man,” Valens said. “You made a good partnership there,
Gallienus.”
“I am very blessed,” Gallienus agreed. In more ways than one, he thought.
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