Marcus of Duros Ch. 06

Currently, finding a partner who loved him for who he was as a person would be incredibly difficult, nigh on impossible. The Durosian system was simply not set up to take into account such lofty ideals as emotional intimacy. Marcus and Anatoli's relationships seemed to be incredible tricks of fate. How could two people who didn't know each other come to love one another like that.

Jarrod had no idea, but he wasn't prepared to risk marriage if it meant a life of unhappiness with a wife who felt herself a slave to him.

Lost in his thoughts, Jarrod barely noticed the distance they had traveled.

The roadways in Duros were nearly interchangeable, and always mundane. The various apartments and administrative buildings that looked down on the concrete streets of the civil district were all made of the same boring cement. Grey and drab like most of the other buildings in Duros, they were devoid of any sort of aesthetics. Only residences of the upper echelon of Durosian society could be decorated in any form, and there were a multitude or ordinances in effect to dissuade the average citizen from painting their houses in any way.

Grey and interchangeable; always disposable. That was the mantra in Duros. Houses, soldiers, men, and women.

Up ahead their destination loomed as the narrow streets opened up into one of the main squares.

The hall of justice sat in the civil district. It was a long rectangular building, constructed out of ornate white stone blocks that contrasted starkly with the cement of the rest of the buildings. Pillars rose from the ground level nearly 40 meters to support the roof. Just beyond the pillars were the main stairs, made of the same white stone which led up to the entrance. The massive wooden double doors at the top were thrown open to the throngs of people queuing to get in. Policemen stood stiffly, organizing the excited crowd into some semblance of order.

Mostly those queuing were men of the Legion. Occasionally a woman would be seen accompanying her husband, but for the most part the attendees were overwhelmingly men. The line was immense, stretching all the way down the long stairs and into the square.

Capital cases did not come up often, perhaps once a year. Typically, cases heard in the hall of justice were those of assault or property damage, usually resulting from a drunken dispute in the market square alehouses. Occasionally issues of contract violations came up, but for the most part Duros was a law abiding state. Assaults against wives on the part of their husbands were not considered crimes, so that took a considerable number of cases that would otherwise be considered assaults off the docket. Murdering your wife however, was a crime, and a capital one at that.

Jarrod snorted at the ridiculous line the founders had drawn. You can beat your wife to a pulp, and that's fine, but if she dies from it, you die.

Reaching the stairs, Marcus, Chloe, and Jarrod proceeded past the long line and up towards the policemen who were keeping order. Seeing the men's insignia, the commanding police lieutenant stepped to the side, saluting Marcus and allowing them entry.

Walking swiftly through the long entry hall, they soon reached the main hall. It was a large square room, with stadium style seating on all four sides which looked down on a small square area where the trial proceedings actually occurred.. Balcony walkways above allowed even more to attend the proceedings. The farthest side from the doors was reserved for the Lords of Duros. Their thrones and assorted assistants' desks took up the majority of the quarter, the rest being devoted to the juror's box.

The juror's box was separated from all other sections by a low wall. The wall only reached about chest height when seated, but it served its purpose as a visual reminder of the power of the commanders within the box. Their box occupied the smallest sliver of the trapezoidal shape of the Lord's quarter, closest to the floor and directly under the Lord's thrones.

The quarter opposite that which seated the Lords and the commanders was set aside for the captains and their wives, and the wives of the commanders who were to sit in the juror's box.

Much to Chloe's chagrin, Marcus had neglected to tell her until the very last minute that she couldn't sit with him in the juror's box. She would have to be content to sit with the other wives and watch without him.

Walking down the long stairs that led into the seating areas, Jarrod quickly picked out his fellow captains and their wives. Evidently they had arrived quite early, as the seats they had found had the best view of both the floor and the juror's box above it. Reaching their section, Jarrod took a seat on the far end of the bench that the others had saved, allowing Chloe to sit next to Valentina and Anatoli.

"Take care of Chloe for me, won't you Valentina?" Marcus said, addressing Anatoli's wife.

"Of course Commander. I'd be honored." She replied.

The stiffness of her response momentarily surprised Chloe. When they had been together for dinner Valentina had been respectful, but had treated Marcus more as a friend than a superior. Chloe was no fool, and the matrons at the forum had taught her what constituted acceptable public behavior, but she felt as though she had been lulled into a false sense of security by the warmth of the atmosphere at their dinner party the previous night.

Marcus kissed Chloe gently on the cheek.

"I'll see you outside after the trial is over alright?"

"Alright Marcus, see you soon. And don't worry, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." She added in a covert whisper.

Smiling at her, Marcus walked down the steps and up the opposite staircase to the juror's box. Seating himself next to one of the other commanders, Marcus made small talk until the hall began to fill more completely. The walkways above and the two remaining side sections were being filled with the rest of the men of the legion who had been queuing outside, and before too long the hall was completely full, prompting the police lieutenant to come inside and lock the doors.

Entering from their private doorway above their thrones, the Lords of Duros began filing into the hall. At once the entire hall got to its feet, the men of the Legion saluting crisply, their wives standing respectfully beside them. As they took their seats, the crowd sat and watched as the assisting lawyers and the defendant came into the small area at the center of the hall escorted by several policemen.

******

As the trial got underway Chloe found herself unable to remain interested. She found the whole proceeding to be boring and tedious. The criminal who was on trial was nothing more than a cold-blooded thug who had beaten several men in the bar, then not satisfied, had gone home and beaten his wife to death.

He was as much of a nothing as you could be in terms of Durosian society. Nearly to the end of his 20 year term of service he had risen no higher in rank than corporal. Additionally, he seemed to lack any sort of ambition or patriotism, indeed seeming passionate about nothing in particular besides drinking and fist-fighting.

He had brought with him several character witnesses, each man just as rough as he and it was clear, at least to Chloe, that the Lords were not impressed. No witness for the people presented any other version of events than that which the prosecutorial lawyers attested to, nor could anyone testify to an alibi for the man. His guilt was nearly assured, making the trial seem like just a simple formality to Chloe.

She had been watching Marcus as he sat in his seat in the juror's box. His face was largely impassive, just as all the other commanders' faces were. She guessed that they were attempting to remain emotionless, so as to give the impression of impartiality.

Despite his stony expression, she could have sworn he looked over and made eye contact with her at least once. She interpreted the look as his version of checking on her, and making sure she knew he hadn't forgotten her. She thought it was sweet, that even though he couldn't be by her side he still made sure she knew he was thinking about her.

After only an hour or so the trial was drawing to a close. As the lawyers finished their final statements against the criminal, and he had in turn spoken against their case, the Lords stood as one, and at a word the commanders in the jurors' box stood with them. Retreating down the small door in the box hidden by the low wall, they made their way to the deliberation room.

Chloe chatted with Valentina while they waited for Marcus and the others to reappear. They didn't have long to wait. Evidently the deliberation on this case was not very involved, as the commanders emerged after only ten minutes.

Upon their arrival the crowd began to murmur slightly more animatedly, as if curious if they would surprise those in attendance and pass a verdict of not guilty or declare a mistrial for lack of evidence. This was not to be; however, as the eldest commander in the box stood up and pronounced the man's guilt.

The only other matter then was to determine the method of execution. As the Lords asked the man what his preferred manor of execution was, he surprised Chloe by asking for 'execution by combat'. This shouldn't have surprised Chloe as much as it did, considering Marcus had just this morning tried to explain how popular the method was among the men of the Legion. Chloe was also not blind to the fact that nearly every man in the hall was clapping in approval, some more animatedly than others.

Rising to his feet, Lord Covax calmed the crowd and asked them to nominate an executioner on behalf of the people of Duros.

All at once the hall erupted into noise, the thunder of screams was tumultuous and Chloe was unable to pick a single name out of the din. Before long though, the crowd began to settle on one name.

"CRA-SSUS! CRA-SSUS! CRA-SSUS! CRA-SSUS!" The crowd chanted.

"Oh dear..." Valentina whispered as her hand found Chloe's.

Chloe felt her heart sink. She felt as if her whole world was coming apart. Numb to Valentina's hand holding hers, and deaf to the roar of the crowd, she sat rooted to her seat as she watched Marcus. His gaze had turned to meet hers, and although she couldn't quite tell, she was almost he mouthed the words 'It's alright' to her.

Rising to his feet and raising one hand in the air, he silenced the crowd instantly. With baited breath they waited for his response, Chloe too felt her body tense, hoping against hope that he would decline.

In a loud, booming voice, Marcus addressed the hall.

"I ACCEPT!"

With that the crowd burst into applause again, punctuated with whistles of approval.

Chloe felt tears prick her eyes as she put her head in her hands. Everything is so perfect, why is he willing to put it all on the line like this? Beside her she felt Valentina wrapping her head and shoulders into a hug.

"He couldn't refuse Chloe, he would have disgraced himself. Everyone would label him a coward, and his battalion might not follow his orders anymore. Don't you see he has to do it?"

Chloe was crying openly now. Cradled in Valentina's arms, her body shook with sobs. Her tears however remained hidden. Astutely, Valentina had correctly assumed that tears would flow, and bundled her into her arms accordingly. It would have been quite unseemly for the wife of a commander to be crying openly in public. Looking up briefly, Chloe couldn't see Marcus in the box anymore.

"Where'd Marcus go Valentina?! Where is he?" Chloe asked, her tone growing more and more desperate.

It was Anastasi who answered.

"He's gone with the other commanders to the arena in the war college. Come on, we have to get going, this crowd will be hard to get through if we wait much longer."

******

Seated in the arena, Chloe was a mess. It had taken them nearly an hour to get from the Hall of Justice to the arena where the execution would take place.

Throngs of excited people had crowded the streets, all of them on their way to watch the execution. All the while Chloe had been going back and forth on whether to go or not, changing her mind at least a dozen times, before switching it back. Finally, she had decided to attend. She reasoned that even if she had to watch, it was better than being at home in their apartment, not knowing whether Marcus lived or died.

Her eyes were blotchy from crying. Although Marcus had told her this morning, and each of the captains and their wives had reminded her again as they walked, that being the executioner wasn't exactly a death sentence, she was still petrified.

In Duros it was rare for an executioner to die before the policemen stepped in to finish the job. Anatoli even went on to remind Chloe that Marcus was a fairly good swordsman as well. But when she asked him if he was better than the man he would be facing, his silence had sent her into yet another panic.

Before too long Marcus reappeared. He had emerged from a door in one corner of the arena. Stepping out onto the floor he saluted the Lords and the crowd who sat screaming and cheering in the stadium seating.

The arena was enormous, seating nearly every one of the nearly 35,000 inhabitants of Duros. The seats, which rose high above the oval arena were separated from the floor of the arena by a four meter wall.

Looking down on him from so far above, Chloe was reminded of how powerful a figure he cut. His uniform was still crisp, his buttons and shoulder cords shining under the lights. He wore no scabbard, but carried his unsheathed sword in his hand. Close behind him followed the six policemen who were to be his backup.

Crossing the vast expanse of dirt covered floor, he closed with the condemned man, who was standing without guards in the middle of the arena. He too held a standard issue Legionnaire's sword in his hand. Closing into a loose circle approximately ten meters in diameter around the two, the policemen drew their swords and stepped back to allow the pair room to move.

Chloe waited with bated breath as the two regarded each other. What they were waiting for was unclear to her, until finally a small bell tolled from the direction of the Lords' chairs.

Without any further hesitation, the two men jumped into furious action. Their swords ringing as they clashed together over and over again. Circling each other and slashing furiously, they fought for several minutes with neither man receiving a cut.

Anatoli had been right, Chloe thought to herself. Marcus was a good swordsman. The only problem was that the condemned man was too, and he looked like he might be wearing Marcus down, if only slightly.

Finally, near the four minute mark by Chloe's reckoning, Marcus landed a hit on the man; a glancing blow that cut open his uniform at the shoulder, a trickle of blood seeping from the gash. It was just the thing the audience needed, their occasional shouts of encouragement morphing into roars and screams of approval once again, spurring Marcus to greater intensity. The only problem was that the other man had been energized as well, and from Chloe's vantage point his shoulder wound did not seem to be handicapping him in any significant way.

Another minute of fighting passed and the man's sword found a way through Marcus's defense, opening a broad gash in his chest.

Chloe screamed as Marcus stumbled and fell, his sword nearly tumbling from his grip. She started to stand, but Anatoli, sensing her movement stopped her by holding her firmly to his side.

"You can't help him from up here Chloe. Don't worry, he's a strong fighter, he'll get back up. Just sit tight and try to wait it out, alright?"

She looked up furiously at him as he spoke, enraged that he would dare to tell her what to do while her husband lay bleeding on the ground. Looking at his eyes though, she could see that he was just as worried as she was, his usually cheerful eyes betraying his concern.

Hugged by Anatoli on one side, and taking Valentina's hand in hers, she attempted to compose herself. Marcus was a strong, capable man, she reasoned. He would come out on top. He had to.

******

Down on the arena, Marcus could feel the eyes of nearly the entire state on him. There were thousands there, watching as he bled on the ground. The wound was not as bad as it could have been. There was a lot of blood, but he wasn't out just yet. Ignoring the throbbing pain, he rose to his feet and regarded his adversary who waited for him several steps away.

The man was extraordinarily good with a sword. It was therefore fortuitous that Marcus had scored the early hit on his shoulder. It seemed to bothering him slightly now, and it was even more welcome because it was his sword arm Marcus had hit.

The man had stood back to allow Marcus to regain his feet after he had fallen, surprising for such a violent and dishonorable man. Marcus appreciated the gesture, and nodded to him accordingly. The man nodded back, and they began to circle each other again.

After several more exchanges the man threw a wild thrust aimed directly at Marcus's face. Marcus easily sidestepped the thrust and his counter-stroke opened a wide gash in the man's side.

Screaming in pain, the man slashed blindly at Marcus as he attempted to retreat from Marcus's quick strike that had just bitten into his right side. Just a fraction too slow to avoid the blade, the man's furious swing opened a long gash across Marcus's stomach. In a panic Marcus jumped backwards and looked down. Fortunately the cut was not deep enough to disembowel, but it started to bleed profusely and hurt just as much as his chest did.

The other man seemed to be in worse shape. Marcus's slash had sneaked between the gap in his ribs, cutting into his lung. Circling each other the two men gasped for breath as their exhaustion and wounds began to take their toll. After several more last-ditch strikes the man went for a desperate double handed cross stroke, coming from above and moving down diagonally. Marcus, having just parried the other blows, had no time to recover, and the slash hit him directly in the face, the blade cutting from his forehead down across his eye and into his cheek.

Screaming in pain, Marcus thrust forward aggressively. Not anticipating such a quick reposte, the man was caught off balance and Marcus's sword plunged through his chest, just below the heart.

As the man fell backwards, Marcus followed. Unable to find the strength to pull his sword from the man, his grip on his sword hilt had pulled him down as well.

Exhausted, Marcus lay where he had fallen next to the dying man as screams of applause echoed throughout the arena. Marcus for his part could hear very little of it. The screams of the crowd sounded strangely distorted, as if he were underwater, and a darkness had begun to eat at the corners of his vision.

Pulling his head off the ground he looked down at his torso, where blood was gushing freely. He could barely see, as blood from his wound was spilling into his eye and clouding his vision with a red hue. Putting a hand to his wounds to check their severity he was disheartened to see that his hand had been bathed in blood just from the quick check.

As the darkness began to reach the center of his vision and all sound was silenced he had time for one last thought.

Chloe's going to kill me...

******