Rhode walked to the mouth of the cave and looked out. Mostly to avoid the mercenary’s curious looks her way, and also to think through what he said. She stared at the forest before her, stretching out below their rock. The sky was painted layers of blue, yellow and pink. It was brilliant. Rhode was never particularly sensitive to aesthetics, in contrast to her own mother who painted, sang, and wrote poems. The sky and sea had always charmed her though. The beauty of this evening sight took her breath away. The layers of color, the dusty grey-green of the forest. She sat down, staying at the mouth of the cave for a longer while, watching the sky turn grey, then dark blue. Finally it was so dark it was almost black. Far away from the city the stars glowed much brighter than they did from her home. It was a pleasant sight. As the night chill started bothering she turned around and walked into the cave.

To her surprise, the mercenary was sitting next to the fire, with a piece of thick fabric in his hands and a needle. He was…doing embroidery. Rhode stared. If Chlodvig had been standing on his head and trying to eat soup that way, she would have been less surprised. Men did not embroider. Seeing Chlodvig’s massive form hunched over the cloth was bizarre. She wasn’t even sure how he managed to hold a needle in his huge hands. She stood closer to watch. He was stitching a dog-shaped pattern onto a round patch of fabric. The dog had a sword in it’s mouth. The patch of cloth, with its geometric and animal decorations, was similar to the ones which decorated the shoulders of Chlodvig’s tunic. And of the one Rhode was now wearing. Such patches and stripes, Rhode knew, were typical for Roman soldiers in previous centuries. They were out of fashion now, but once they had been very common. One could still see such decorations on soldiers’ clothing on many of the older frescoes in Thessalonike’s churches. This sparked her curiosity.

“Chlodvig? How old are you?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Six hundred. Give or take a few…”

“Give or take a few?”

He looked up at her, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What year is it now? 1185? That makes me…629.” Chlodvig sighed and smiled slightly. It was a sad smile and he was looking away now, at the dogs.

Rhode bit her lip in the awkward silence. She realized that said out loud, the number felt like a chasm between them. Much more so than the word ‘vampire’ had. Still, while she felt slightly taken aback by the answer (what was she expecting anyway?), she was also glad for it. It confirmed her observation that Chlodvig answered questions. This was something Rhode appreciated greatly. People were strange about questions. If they didn’t like a question, they would avoid answering it, or answer in a way that didn’t make sense, or make fun of the question, or change the topic. Rhode’s skills at reading people had always been limited, and her ability to decipher people’s reactions to questions was woeful. It was such a relief not to have to bother with trying to figure out if a question may or ought not to be asked. Chlodvig didn’t make a fuss. If you asked, he answered. And if he didn’t want to answer, he simply said so. Like that time when she asked about their jump from the tower. He also gave a reason WHY he didn’t want to answer. ‘It’s complicated and we don’t have time’ he had said then. A perfectly sensible reason, which, again, Rhode appreciated.

With a sigh, Chlodvig got up, putting the half-embroided piece of cloth into his pack.

“We should leave. Sun’s down for a good hour already,” he said and began packing their things. Rhode looked up at him disappointed. There were many things she still wanted to ask in connection to his age. Who was Emperor in his time? Did he even think of any point in time as ‘his’? Had he seen Constantinople back then? What was it like? Had he seen Rhodes back then? Does he know anyone else that old? Do vampires LIKE being around others as old as them? Is it daunting to live so long? But, clearly, it wasn’t the time. So she helped as she could, though her thoughts were mostly on the questions she didn’t yet have chance to ask.

They were finishing packing when a loud, eerie howl came from outside. Rhode looked out curiously. There was nothing there. Or maybe there was but she just couldn’t see it, as the light from their fire made looking into the darkness far away difficult. Rhode noticed that Chlodvig, who had been just about to pick up the heavy bag of books but now he was staring intently into the darkness. He sniffed a few times and cocked his head to the side. Rhode noticed that his hands moved quietly to check if the sword and throwing axe were properly attached in their sheathes.

“Rhode, stay in the cave,” Chlodvig said quietly. Then he muttered a command to the dogs in a language Rhode did not understand, and slipped out of the cave. As he did, both dogs sat at the entrance of the cave. Waiting and watching.