Page 312 of Scorched Earth

Neither of his friends answered, only followed him down the stairs and out into the city—

Where the entire Thirty-Seventh waited, neat ranks packing the streets in a long column that wove through Celendrial. But painfully fewer in number than they’d been when they had set out across the world. So many of his brothers lost, his hands stained with their blood.

“Last march,” Felix said quietly. “They’ll follow you to the end.”

Marcus’s chest tightened, emotion drowning him as he stared out over the men who’d followed him across the world and back. Men who’d been his family. His brothers. He no more wanted them to watch him die than he did Teriana, but neither would he deny them this. “Then straighten up those ranks,” he ordered. “Everyone in Celendrial is watching.”

Backs straightened and chins lifted as he moved to the center of the column, Servius and Felix on either side of him, the Thirty-Seventh’s standard in Servius’s hand.

“Drums.”

The drummers began to strike their instruments, the same steady beat as they’d played when they marched on Celendrial. “To the Forum.”

The column began to move, thethud, thud, thudof thousands of feet stepping in time echoing off the walls of the building, the civilians moving onto their balconies to silently watch. No one spoke, the men all silent and grim-faced, and Marcus kept his eyes forward even as beads of sweat rolled down his back.

You can do this.

Ahead, the Forum appeared, men of the Forty-First blocking the entrance. They moved aside at the Thirty-Seventh’s approach, saluting Marcus as he passed. At the far end of the space, gallows had been erected. On them stood his father, his brother, and Cassius. Nooses dangled, including the one that waited for him. Marcus’s heart skittered, his nerve faltering. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the tiny metal ship dig into his chest.

You can do this.

The lead ranks of the Thirty-Seventh reached the end of the open space, forming neat lines with a pathway between them, allowing him a clear line to the rostra where Tiberius waited, Senator Valerius at his side. On the steps leading to the Curia crowded the rest of the Senate, Cordelia among them, her chin high though her eyes were red.

“The prisoner,” Felix said coldly to Tiberius.

“Restrain him and bring him onto the gallows,” Tiberius said. “We do not intend to belabor this.”

You can do this.

Swallowing hard, Marcus turned to Servius and wrapped his arms around his friend. “It has been my honor and privilege to serve with you,” he said, “and to call you my friend.”

Tears dripped down Servius’s face, and he squeezed Marcus so hard his ribs groaned. “You as well, sir.”

Then Felix took his arm, leading him onto the platform.

“I have to bind your wrists,” Felix said quietly. “Protocol.”

“I know.” He pulled the string holding the hair ornament over his head, gripping the little metal ship in his fist as Felix wrapped his wrists with rope. “Take care of them, my friend. You’re the only one I trust to do it.”

Felix gave a tight nod, then slipped the noose over his head, his friend’s composure cracking as he tightened it. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping away tears. “I can’t do this to you. I won’t.”

“You will,” Marcus said. “Last order.”

Felix was quiet, then he nodded and stepped back. “Yes, sir.”

The Forum was nearly silent, not a word spoken by his men, the senators on the steps, nor the civilians that had crowded in behind the Thirty-Seventh. The only sound was his brother’s loud weeping. Marcus kept his eyes forward, watching as his mother, dressed in a silk dress, was brought forward.

“You have been found guilty of treason,” Tiberius said to her, and Marcus heard the faint shake in his brother-in-law’s voice. “In accordance with Celendor’s laws, you are to be stripped of titles and material possessions, and then made to walk the streets so that all you have wronged may see your shame.”

His mother screamed, then dropped to her knees, looking up at Marcus. “Don’t let them do this,” she begged. “Please, stop this. I know you could stop this if you wanted. Please!”

You can do this.Marcus gripped the tiny ship tight, then looked forward, saying nothing.

The executioner stepped forward, and without hesitation, tore the dress off his mother, leaving her naked. She gasped, trying to cover herself, but the man shoved her in the back. “Walk.”

His mother took one stumbling step, then another, heading down the path created by his men, who all kept their eyes forward. Slowly, she walked to the rear of the Forum, disappearing into the city. Where there would usually be shouts of mockery, there was only silence. His eyes flicked to Cordelia. She and his sisters were wed, which spared them from such a fate, but at best, the stain this had left upon them would result in ostracization for long years to come. At worst, their husbands would cast them into the streets to be rid of them. What remained of his family depended on the grace of Agrippa’s brother, and Marcus could only hope that Tiberius Egnatius was as good a man as he believed himself to be.

Then Tiberius said, “Gaius Domitius, you have been found guilty of treason. In accordance with the laws of Celendor, your punishment is the forfeiture of your life.”