I am not a prolific writer. In my life I have written less pages than are in a single Stephen King novel. My true love is oral storytelling, but I have written. This may be the best thing I ever wrote, and I wrote it for my wife years ago for Valentine's Day.
Dearest Agropina,
I wanted to remember our time together, to honor you in the way that you would wish to be honored, and so I have had Father Humbert write down my words that you may read them. You know well that I do not read, but I also know that words on a page mean much to you, so I have put aside my ill will towards the new religion to express my feelings for you.
Well I remember when we first met. I was a young firebrand in the arena, seething for a life I only knew from stories passed down to me from my father, channeling my rage into a record so fearsome your people wanted me to come to their biggest city and fight in that arena against their best. But I loved this land. So much so that wise men among your people reasoned me a threat. They sent you to see how I was, whether I intended to lead a rebellion from your people.
I remember. You had the pride of your people. Even though I could have broken you between my thumb and forefinger, you stood your ground. That gave me pause. But you were not just an arrogant woman. You greeted me as a woman of my people would greet me, in my own language and by inquiring about the state of my father's herds. I knew then that an Imperial you might be, but nothing like the limp imperial strumpets I'd seen before. I had seen Warlords with more steel in their spines and old hunters with more ice in their eyes, but not many.
From the moment I saw you I desired you. In that I was not alone, for from the first moment we saw you, you were the desire of every man in my village and the envy of every woman. I saw what the others did
not, though. You were not an elk to be stalked, nor a fox to be lured, or a gaudy decoration to be placed on a man's hearth. You were like Fire herself, who brings everlasting succor to those who respect her, and destroys those who do not. As with fire, I knew that I had to be careful lest I burn myself on your glory.
Of course, I thought these cunning thoughts, while you waited for me to respond to your greeting. I was even at that point too arena hardened to let what I was thinking show, but you must have thought me daft, standing there as stone while you waited for me to respond.
"I am hunting Elk tomorrow, and it would do me and my ancestors
honor to have one as strong and beautiful as yourself beside me."
It was a horrible thing for me to say. I knew the moment I said it that you would only agree to go out on the plains with a man you had met five minutes prior if you were a fool. So it surprised me as much as it pleased me when you said yes. On the condition that your good friend Lycus accompany us. That damped the fires of my heart, but not near enough for me to consider not hunting elk in the morning mist.
Heartened I was the next morning when I met you and your friend. I remember I had my longbow, you had an elegant Imperial Recurve, and he had a shortbow. I could tell from the way you kept your distance from him and the way he looked at me that your good friend was no friend at all. He was an escort, a minder, and though you tried to hide it I could see that you cared for him not at all.
We three set out, talking idly in Imperial of the games, and the hunt. I was surprised that neither of you was lacking in knowledge of the hunt. I was heartened that as the day progressed you warmed to me. I was not surprised that the more your radiance shone on me, the more Lycus disliked me.
I'll never forget what you said to me as the sun sank. You pointed at the horizon and said in Imperial "Our quarry draws near, honor to us all, no matter whose arrow fell the beast, and then in my language, "Lycus means to kill you. Go with me to the carcass."
He was suspicious, his kind always is, but he didn't know my language. Like most Imperials he expected me to know his language, but never learned mine. Not long after that we spotted our quarry, and as we stalked closer nocked our arrows and drew our strings. Lycus fired first, then I, then you. Two hits in the neck, and one far miss. Lycus claimed the miss, and told me to go get the carcass, as the kill was mine by right. I didn't trust the man, but I trusted him less when he was trying to appear just. I thought that as long as I was with you we could all end the day alive and uninjured.
I remember setting out for the elk, and I remember you setting out behind me. Maybe fisteen feet from Lycus I turned and said in my tongue "If Lycus means to kill me, let him try. Walk beside me, Agropina. I do not want any woman, no matter how lovely, shielding me from an enemy with...get down!"
Which was when Lycus' first arrow went over your right shoulder as you fell prone, and hit me in the chest. Despite being an experienced arena combatant, that was my first serious injury. I felt rage that Lycus would shoot past you to get to me. In one motion I nocked an arrow, drew back the string, let fly, hitting him in the thigh. His hit was more serious, but mine kept him in place.
In three strides I was upon him, and I remember well the satisfaction of ripping the puny bow from his weak grasp and breaking it over my knee. And I remember grabbing him by his shirt. He went for the knife in his belt, and as he went for it I shoved him backward with one hand, landing him on his worthless back.
I remember slapping the knife from his hands, kneeling on his chest, and grabbing his throat. By that time you had come, and I remember you watching me, transfixed. I remember thinking to myself that if I took the life of Lycus it would be just, but I might never see you again if I did.
"Listen closely, Offal. You have twice tried to kill me and I have so far spared your life. It is not worth my freedom to kill such as you, so I am going to disarm you, and you're going to slink back to your Empire, and leave me in peace."
I knew the moment I said it that I had made the right choice. I knew that killing Lycus would have gone too far for that moment. And I have never regretted that decision for one moment in any of the ten years since that day.
I finally killed him. He came looking for me, I saw him on the street. I gave him my distance, and we passed without incident. Then he struck me from behind with his dagger. I turned and backhanded him hard enough to snap his neck, but I knew his blow had struck true. I was helped to the church, and my wounds were dressed. Father Humbert has written this for me as I lay dying. I go now to my ancestors, but I go not regretting one moment of my life, knowing that you will care for our children, and my village will care for you, and one day in the future you will come to me and I will make you a widow no more, forever.
With my last breath, I love you Agropina.
Krall
