Three Wise Cats (4 page)

Gracus approached the cats quietly, speaking in a soft voice. “All is well, little ones. I dreamed about you; you were meant to be on this road today. And I hope I may assist you so that the gods will look favorably upon me.”

Kezia and Abishag eyed each other. “Should we run?” Abishag asked.

“Run in different directions,” Ira advised. “That way he can't catch both of you. And I'll bite him if he comes near me, so you may then escape.” And he laid his head back on his right paw; his other front leg hurt too badly even to share the weight of his small head.

The centurion dropped to one knee, looking at Ira. “My horse has broken this small one's leg,” he observed, noting the hoofprints in the dirt. “If the ground had not been soft, the limb surely would have been severed. And yet he bears the pain without complaint. He must be a small soldier himself.”

At that compliment, Ira's eyes opened and he tried to purr. Gracus heard him. “He answers me! Bring my shield!” he called to Citus.

Carefully the two men picked up the small black cat, using the shield as a stretcher. “Pitch the tents beside the road,” the centurion commanded. “We camp here tonight. Lepcis Magna and our garrison must wait until this small one has had his injuries tended.” He turned toward the two other cats, who were fidgeting nervously as they saw their foster brother about to be taken away. “Come, you must stay together as I dreamed of you,” he told them gently. “I will bind your brother's wounds and care for him in a manner befitting a soldier. And you two shall also come with us.”

He set Ira's broken leg, roughly but not unkindly, washed the blood away from his cuts where the hooves had nicked him, and then gave him a tiny drop of something to make him sleep. Once his tent was up, he fed the other two cats and told Citus to find a large basket among the supplies.

When the servant returned, Gracus took a rough wool cloak and placed it and Ira in the basket. “Sleep well, little ones,” he told Kezia and Abishag. “Watch over your brother if you wish, but my heart tells me he will be all right. I have set his broken leg, and if the gods will it, he shall run and play with you once more. I will hang a sling of leather in my chariot, so he may be carried in a few days and not try to hobble on three legs. And you two may ride in my chariot also, either in your basket or at my feet. You shall all three arrive in Lepcis Magna in a manner befitting those chosen by the gods!”

5

I
RA PEEKED OVER the side of his sling, swaying as the chariot rumbled along. He could just see the edge of a basket against the side wall of the vehicle, braced by the centurion's servant's legs.

“Kezia? Abishag?” he whispered.

Two small heads popped up over the edge of the basket, and Ira's little chest heaved a tremendous sigh. Although he wouldn't admit it, he felt much braver when he was with the other two cats. “What happened?”

“Don't you remember?” Kezia hissed. “That peculiar creature that broke your leg is called a
horse
.”

“You could have been killed,” Abishag added. “Gracus looked after you; he said you were a little soldier.”

Ira smiled. “And so I am. I told you I was going to be a soldier this trip. Ptolemy knew what he was doing, to send me with you two,” he began bragging.

“Oh, hush,” Kezia replied. “Thanks to you, I'm not seeing Lepcis Magna. We're going around the city and to the garrison on the outskirts. I wanted to see ladies in rich, fine dresses and jewels and—”

“The best thing about it is that we're riding instead of walking,” Abishag interrupted. “I wouldn't want to walk through these crowds. And to go around all the people and then down to the harbor would take us another week.”

The servant, Citus, hearing the whispering and hissing noises, reached down and clumsily patted both girls on their heads. “We are soon at quarters, small ones.” Gracus, guiding the nervous horse and his chariot through a stream of pushing, shoving people, paid no attention as he kept a firm hold on the reins.

They reached the garrison and the servant jumped out of the chariot, taking the horse by its bridle and holding it as Gracus put Ira's sling over his shoulder and picked up the basket. “Come, you will stay in my quarters while we await our new orders,” he told them. He set the basket down and laid the sling on the floor.

“Now you must learn to walk again, but continue to favor that leg until it heals,” he advised Ira, who stood and briskly shook himself. He looked up at Gracus and purred very loudly, and the centurion's stern, weathered face softened into a smile.

“Indeed you are welcome,” he said and turned to go out the door. His servant was already bringing in the small bag of Gracus's belongings. “Feed them, and let them explore the post,” he told the man. “I must report to my
legatus
, my commander.”

Kezia was struggling to climb out of the basket, and Citus turned it on its side so she and Abishag could get out easily. Then he set the basket and its wool cloak near the cot on which Gracus would sleep. He left for a few minutes, then returned with a full bucket of water and set it down next to a rough table. Rummaging in a small bundle, he pulled out a short tallow candle in a holder and placed it on the tabletop.

“He lives as his men do, in a sparing manner,” he told the three cats, who were watching him intently. “Now I'll go ask the cook for some scraps for you.”

An hour later, they wandered about the garrison, searching out the sources of different smells and reminding Ira to keep walking, to strengthen his leg as it healed.

“It still hurts if I put much weight on it, and it itches under the wrappings,” he told his foster sisters. “But at least it's not throbbing like it did.”

Back in Gracus's room, Asmodeus was chewing at the candle and again grumbling to himself.
This is very poor fare. Did they think to save even the smallest portion, or even crumbs perhaps, for poor Asmodeus? No, certainly not. They dined well, with never a thought of gratitude for me. But who procured for them their transport all the way through the city, I ask? They would have spent at least a week just wandering, if they hadn't ridden in a grand chariot. While I, who have digested more parchments than they could ever have read to them, arrived in a supply wagon. A supply wagon, for such as I!

The rat devoured the leather thongs that had bound Gracus's bag and then looked about the sparsely furnished room for anything else on which to nibble. He jumped down from the tabletop and crept along the wall toward the open door. “I shall have to find the cook,” he muttered and slipped through the door.

That evening, Gracus returned and tried to light the candle with a flint. Failing that, he sent Citus to the supply clerk for a new one, then turned to the three cats when the bright flame lit the remains of the old candle.

“A rat!” Gracus's voice was disgusted. “Even sent by the gods, you cats surely must know how to rid my quarters of vermin. See that you do so.”

The centurion unrolled and studied a small map for a short time, then blew out the candle flame and went to bed. Citus slept in the corner, curled up in another cloak.

A whispered conference took place in the dim moonlight coming through the window.

“Gracus sounded angry. We must catch that rat,” Abishag said. “If we don't, we may have to find our own way to the far desert, without any more help.”

“What do you mean?” Kezia asked. “Surely Gracus wouldn't turn us out to be on our own now.”

“It's Asmodeus's fault,” Ira said emphatically. “He ate the candle and the leather thongs; I can tell by the smell. He's somehow followed us here. First, what we need to do is get rid of any other vermin in the compound. Then we can figure out a plot to catch Asmodeus. Remember, even Ptolemy said he's wily. I should never have turned that rat loose. I'd caught him sleeping, the morning we left.”

“I nearly had him also,” Abishag reminded her foster brother. “The bit of skin and fur I took off of him tasted as horrible as he smells.”

“Just watch me catch him,” Kezia said smugly. “He won't get away from
me
. I'll kill him and save his tail for a collar.”

The next morning Gracus set his bare feet upon the floor, jumped, and then began chuckling. He laughed until his servant rushed in with a bucket of fresh water.

“What has happened?”

Gracus pointed, gasping for breath. On the floor were three neat rows of assorted-sized rats and mice—and a very large black beetle.

The centurion wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“I have not enjoyed a laugh like that in years. The three must have been sent by Mars! They do valiant battle with vermin. But I do not wish their gifts to be my breakfast. Where are they?”

Citus smiled. “They are asleep in their basket, sir. They must have hunted all night, as you bade them. I did not know there were so many parasites within these walls.” He got a rush broom from beside the door and began gingerly sweeping the carcasses into a heap. “What shall I do with them?”

“Cast them onto the refuse pile outside. Perhaps the other repulsive creatures will see the remains and shun at least my quarters. And see if you may beg some butter or cream from the cook. They deserve to be richly rewarded for their long night's work.”

6

K
EZIA'S DAINTY PAW had Asmodeus pinned by his broken ruin of a tail and hind legs. With her other paw upraised, she hesitated, not quite sure where to land a death blow on the rat's thick neck.

Asmodeus squirmed and pleaded, trying to twist or talk himself free. “Let me go, sweet kitten,” he pleaded. “Beautiful one, let me run and I'll . . . I'll bring you something as pretty . . . no,
nearly
as pretty . . . as yourself.” He smiled over his broken tooth.