The Ranker by Greg Gonyea

Table of Contents Table of Contents ................................................................................................ 2 Chapter I Flight to Safety........................................................................................ 3 Chapter II Brundisium ........................................................................................ 19 Chapter III Agathara ............................................................................................ 43 Chapter IV The Art of the Sword ......................................................................... 63 Chapter V Rufus Flavius Polinus.......................................................................... 74 Chapter VI Unmasked...................................................................................... 127 Chapter VII The Frontier .................................................................................. 143 Chapter VIII Marcus Lucius Carbus ................................................................... 175 Chapter IX Caesar ............................................................................................... 202 Chapter X The Wolf Pack ................................................................................... 215 Chapter XI Caesarâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Strategies ........................................................................... 236 Chapter XII The Path of Peace ........................................................................... 264 Chapter XIII The Lemonvici ............................................................................. 304 Chapter XIV Return to the Tenth........................................................................ 317 Chapter XV The Last Battle ............................................................................. 333 Chapter XVI Coming Home ............................................................................. 352

Chapter I Flight to Safety It was autumn and the nights had been getting cooler, the days shorter. The flying insects had all but disappeared. The air was crisp, hinting at the coming winter, yet clinging tenaciously to summer’s warmth. He was looking forward to his thirteenth birthday and excited to have time off from school, to celebrate the Saturnalia Holiday. The younger students at his school had made tiny flowered wreaths to honor The God Saturn and he was looking forward to giving his to his mother. As he entered the house the servants were acting strangely. He thought it peculiar when none of the servants would meet his gaze. Some of the women were weeping. He went into the kitchen and called out for his mother, but she didn’t answer him. He went to several areas of the house expecting to see her rounding a corner, but she didn’t appear. She must be taking a nap, he thought, so he quietly approached her bedchamber. She was there, dressed as usual, lying back on the bed, her eyes half open staring up at the ceiling. She was very pale and a bit of spittle had dribbled out of her mouth and run down the side of her face. She looked quite beautiful, peaceful even and she lay very still, too still. He reached out to touch her but he couldn’t. He somehow knew she would be cold and he couldn’t bear to have that last touch be a cold memory. Cullina the housemaid stood at the entrance to the bedchamber and in a meek voice told Claudius that a physician had been sent for. It seemed like an eternity passed, waiting for the physician to arrive. Claudius’ body felt numb, his thinking chaotic. If I don’t grieve, if I don’t cry she will awaken and be all right, he thought. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. Somewhere, in his heart, he knew, his mother would never awaken from this sleep. He had lost his best friend and he was never going to be able to speak with her again. Mennius the physician arrived. “Where is your mother, son?” he asked, gently touching the boy’s shoulder. Claudius could only point to the room where she lay. After a short time, in the room with Ameilia, Mennius emerged from the bedroom. Facing Claudius, and holding him gently by both shoulders, he looked compassionately into the boy’s eyes. “Your mother has passed into the other world, son. Do you understand?” Claudius nodded slightly, lower lip trembling, “Yes sir, I understand.” “A messenger has been dispatched to summon your father. He should arrive very soon. I am going to prepare your mother for burial now. Why don’t you go to the kitchen and wait there for your father to arrive? Perhaps the cook will fix you something to eat. You should not be alone right now.” Claudius wanted to be alone; he wanted to be, what he felt, utterly alone. Going instead to his father’s study, he slipped in and sat on the floor with his back against the great wall of books. He looked at the scrolls, hundreds of them, tucked into their compartments, all neatly labeled. The tears were there, gathering just behind his eyes, but they would not come. He thought about when he was a small boy sitting in his mother’s lap. Her warm breasts pressed lightly against his back, while she read to him of the heroes of Greece and Troy and the Trojan War. He loved the stories of Ajax, with his giant hammer and of

Hector and Achilles and their famous battle beneath the walls of Troy. He never tired of these heroic tales. Later, as he grew older, he would sit at her feet to listen to her read, as she ran her fingers lightly through his hair. He remembered being most at peace during those times. His father, an esteemed Roman senator had an enormous collection of books. The renown, Quintus Antonius Vero, known to have one of the most extensive personal libraries in all of Italy, a true lover of the written word. It was this treasure trove of books that Claudius’ mother made good use of. Claudius rarely saw his father. He always seemed to be off in Rome, drafting a law or prosecuting a lawbreaker or defending a client, performing the myriad tasks of a Roman senator. He remembered his father setting out for the city, going off in his toga, with the purple stripe over the shoulder, surrounded by scribes and aides. When he left for Rome it was a procession of servants, horses and bearers. The frequent absence of his father, and being an only child, meant spending a great deal of time with his mother. The two developed a strong bond in their affection for one another. She had been a gentle, sweet woman, still beautiful, over the years, even as she aged. Her maiden name was Ameilia Scipio and she was a direct descendant of the great hero and conqueror of Hannibal, Scipio Africanus. She was a true Scipeoni, as patrician Roman as one could be. She had been betrothed to Quintus Vero at the age of fourteen and the marriage had brought much prestige to both prominent families. His father had been nearly three times his mother’s age when they eventually married. Claudius had been born years after the marriage. His later knowledge, of his parents, came from the stories related to him by his mother. He had always felt his mother greatly respected his father, so much so, that he rarely saw them kiss or hug. He never saw his mother and father exhibit the physical playfulness and flirting that some of the married servants engaged in, and, he never knew them to sleep together. In his child’s mind, he thought this was how all families were. Ameilia enjoyed the benefits of being a famous senator’s wife. She reveled in the notoriety and respect attached to her station and she adored giving lavish dinner parties. Not only was she a gracious hostess, she was also an excellent cook. If she were not acting the Domina, one would most likely find her in the kitchen experimenting with different sauces, spices and the like. On occasion, she would cook exclusively for the family and create memorable meals. He felt comforted by the warm memories of his mother; the feeling of emptiness quickly returned when he heard the clatter of a horse’s hooves entering the inner courtyard. Running down the hall, he burst through the front door and threw himself into his father’s arms, as Quintus Vero dismounted from the back of a spent horse. He buried his face into his father’s tunic, “She’s dead, Father, she’s dead.” “Yes, I know son, the messenger informed me. I came as quickly as I could. I’m here now; it will be all right. We must be strong now, you and I. We will bear her passing together. She would have wanted us to be strong.” Claudius looked up at his father’s face; his eyes were sad but dry. The funeral rites were held there at the villa. Many important people made the considerable journey from Rome. They would first stop and pay their respects to his father and then they would come to him. He didn’t know how many pressed his hand or

gripped his shoulder. He found no solace in their acts of comfort; all he could feel was the ever-present emptiness. On the third day after her death, after all the rites had been performed and all the mourners had left, she was placed on the funeral pyre, near to the garden, which she had so loved. Claudius and all the members of the Vero household watched his father as he placed the coin in her mouth, to pay the ferryman, and then with a deliberate slowness, touched the torch to the funeral pyre. The pitch soaked wood burst into flame and quickly engulfed the pyre. Claudius turned away; he could not bear to look upon his mother’s face. He longed to touch her cheek and caress her hair one last time, before the flames consumed her. He ran toward the pyre but the roaring flames drove him back. It was then the tears came. It was then he realized his best friend was gone and he would never know her loving touch again. The summer months passed slowly after his mother’s death. His father stayed home for a short time, but soon, senator Vero, paramour of the people, had to return to Rome. A political upheaval, of epic proportions, was brewing. His respite to grieve had to be put aside. Quintus told Claudius that Rufus, his mother’s faithful bodyguard, would watch over him and be his stand-in, until he could return. Claudius passed his thirteenth birthday that summer. He and Rufus became the best of friends, over a two month span of time. When the school term started-up again, Claudius was excited. He loved school and he looked forward to reassuming his education. He wasn’t quite sure when the bullying episodes began. Maybe it had gone on before, but he just hadn’t given it much concern. Now he seemed to be the principle victim of it. The bullying emanated from an older boy named Drusus, who was also the son of a famous Roman senator and Claudius’ neighbor. It was Drusus’ size and arrogance that made him a bully. He was also a leader. He had formed a cadre of the older students at the school. This older group abused and intimidated all of the younger students. Claudius didn’t know why but Drusus seemed to single him out. He was tripped, knocked down and ridiculed by Drusus and his group. The persecution was always meant to humiliate rather than injure. As the school term went on, the abuse increased. Claudius wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation He didn’t want to go to Rufus and seem like a whining baby. He didn’t want to approach the teacher, who seemed to be in awe of Drusus and would certainly warn Drusus, resulting in even more abuse. What am I to do, he thought? Then it occurred to him to just stand up to his abuser. The next time he accosts me I will stand my ground, he thought. The next time turned out to be the next day. Usually, before morning classes began, all of the students would mill around in the courtyard waiting for Antoines to ring his bell, to signal the start of class. Claudius could see Drusus eying him and talking to his gang. It wasn’t long before Drusus and three others headed in Claudius’ direction. Claudius felt a surge of panic. If he resisted the bullies in any way, it meant a beating. He decided to brave the consequences.

When the group closed in, Claudius, without turning, noticed one of the boys maneuver to get behind him. Drusus was now only an arms length away. “So, Vero, you seem unusually alert today. Most of the time you seem to be lost in a fog. Why the sudden change?” Drusus said, stepping forward to give Claudius a twohanded shove. Claudius saw it coming and sidestepped the shove and using Drusus’ own forward momentum, sent him sprawling over the back of the boy who had been down on all fours waiting to have the same thing happen to Claudius. Drusus and his helper now lay there in a dusty heap. The surprised look on Drusus’ face was reward enough. What was even more rewarding was the peals of laughter ringing from all the other students. When Drusus realized what had happened, the look of surprise turned into a malevolent glare. “I will get you for this Vero,” Drusus said, from a sitting position. At that moment Antoines rang his bell. “Come, come everyone. Let’s not dawdle. We have much material to cover today and we must start right away,” Antoines shouted. Antoines, his pedagogue these last few years, was a good teacher, although a bit stuffy. He knew his subject matter well, but he had a habit of falling into a monotone when the lessons were routine. In fact, he had been doing it for most of the morning. Claudius tended to daydream when this happened. “Claudius, master Claudius Vero! Will someone please wake him?” Claudius quickly sat up, realizing Antoines was talking to him. “Ah, Master Claudius, you have returned to us at last. It must have been quite a daydream, you were having. Perhaps you would like to share it with the rest of the class?” Claudius felt the stares of his fellow students. The laughter was now directed at him. Antoines pressed on. “No matter, maybe you will share the dream with us some other time. However, I would still like to know the answer to the question I posed while you were preoccupied. Would you like me to repeat it?” Claudius nodded. “Very well then, the question was; how did Alexander the Great untie the ‘Gordian Knot’?” Claudius knew the answer to the question and debated whether to feign ignorance, or answer sarcastically, to somehow get even with his antagonist. He decided on the latter course of action and replied, “Why teacher, everyone knows that Alexander didn’t untie the ‘Gordian Knot’, he cut it loose with his sword.” Antoines sputtered and said, “Why that is correct Master Claudius, you must have done your homework. As your reward for a correct answer, and your sarcasm, you shall receive five strokes of the cane to remind you not to daydream when you are in my classroom. Report to me immediately after class.” The caning was not as bad as Claudius expected it would be. Antoines was a weak, frail man, not given to doing anything that required physical strength; his strength was his intellect, which he often used to intimidate. When the five strokes were administered they only stung a little and left marks that would disappear in a few days. “Well, did you learn not to fall asleep in my class, master Vero?”

Claudius turned and gave his teacher a look of disdain but said nothing. He simply re-arranged his tunic and headed for the door. “I will see you in class tomorrow, and try to stay attentive,” Antoines shouted, to Claudius’ back. It was late afternoon. Claudius ambled along the road toward home, not wanting to arrive there too quickly. To get to his villa he had to pass the Drusus estate. Claudius thought about his recent confrontation with Drusus. He knew if he encountered him now, the incidents of today would be renewed. To avoid this imagined encounter, he went by a circuitous route. He took a little used path, that left the main road, crossed a meadow, wound through a large grove of trees, then came back to meet the main road again, a good distance beyond the sprawling Drusus estate. Suddenly, as he was about to rejoin the main road, young Drusus and three companions stepped out from behind a large tree and blocked Claudius’ path. All the boys were carrying wooden practice swords. “What have we here?” asked Drusus, with a sneer, slowly circling Claudius as he spoke. “Why it’s none other than our little day dreamer.” As he said this, Drusus came around behind him, reached forward and snatched Claudius’ tunic at the neckline, ripping it down to the waist and exposing his bare back. “Aha, I see Antoines has laid the cane across your back. Look at this lads, that old woman has hardly marked him at all. Why any baby could have taken that beating.” With a lightening quick backhand stroke, Drusus struck Claudius heavily across his back, with the flat of the wooden sword. “Now you have been struck by a man. How does that feel dreamer boy?” The force of the blow split the skin on Claudius’ back and a large whitened welt immediately appeared. The painful blow caused Claudius to cry out, and he dropped to one knee. With no warning, each of the other three boys stepped forward and laid the flat of their swords across his bare back. The force of the blows caused Claudius to fall face first, on the ground. He writhed in pain, blood began oozing from the painful welts. “I don’t believe you will day dream in class any more,” Drusus said, in a taunting voice, as the four turned and headed back toward the Drusus villa, laughing and joking as they sauntered off. Claudius tried to rise but he could not. Then he blacked out. When he awoke he tried to rise pushing himself up to his hands and knees. He managed to fight through the pain and stay conscious. Slowly, he gained his feet. He teetered, took a few faltering steps and stopped to rest. He staggered the nearly two remaining miles to his villa. He stumbled into the courtyard and again lost consciousness. The first to reach him was his friend Rufus. One of the servants remarked, “Master, where were you? We were very worried?” “Fools, can’t you see he is gravely injured? Quickly, get two poles and a blanket and construct a litter. We will get him into the house. Get Vanitus on a horse to town and fetch Mennius the physician. Don’t forget to bring an extra horse. Callus, gather ointments, bandages and a basin of warm water and bring everything to his bedroom. Be quick about it! Bring some clean towels also. Go, now!”

The litter was quickly assembled and they gently placed him on it and carried him to his room, placing him face down on the bed. Claudius was incoherent and passing in and out of consciousness. They cleaned and dressed his wounds and made him as comfortable as possible. When Claudius awoke he was not totally aware of the pain, or of where he was. When he tried to move the pain returned with a vengeance, and the memory of the beating swept over him in a flood. “So, you are awake now. How do you feel?” asked Rufus, as he entered the room carrying a cup of water. “I thought you might be thirsty?” “How long have I been asleep, Rufus?” “Three nights and two days, young master. At first, we feared for your life. We tried to keep the fever down by bathing you. You cried out often while you were unconscious. Do you feel well enough to tell me what happened?” As the story unfolded, Rufus’ only reaction was in his face, where his lips compressed into a thin bloodless line. When Claudius had related the entire tale, Rufus just grunted and said, “Someday we will teach those ruffians a lesson on how to fight fair.” “There is only one to blame,” replied Claudius. “And that is their leader, Drusus. The others are a mindless bunch of thugs and they were only following the lead of their master.” “Should I contact the local magistrate and bring charges?” “No, not now. I will think on it for a time and decide what to do later.” “Has the pain lessened master?” asked Rufus. “I feel much better than I did when it happened, but it is still very sore and tender. I don’t think I will be lying on my back for a while.” “We did summon a physician to look at you while you were unconscious. He examined you for broken bones but he could find none He said the bruises look worse than they actually were. He assured us you would recover.” “Was it the same physician that came when my mother died?” “Yes, the same one.” “It has been more than six months since she died Rufus.” “It seems like only yesterday,” Rufus replied. Claudius could see Rufus was emotionally shaken by the recollection of Ameilia’s death. “You loved her very much, didn’t you Rufus?” “Yes young master, more than my own life.” Claudius did not return to school for the remainder of the term and took the idle time to properly heal. At the first opportunity he gathered all the staff together and addressed them regarding his injuries. “I do not want my father to know of this incident. He is very busy in Rome and I do not want him distracted from affairs that are a good deal more important than the few clouts I suffered at the hands of ruffians. If my father is informed of any of this, the informer will be very regretful. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes master Claudius,” they all replied.

When Claudius started to feel his strength return and the pain disappear, he began taking long walks through the surrounding hills. Soon the long walks turned into long trots and then into long runs. He felt his strength returning and growing. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he stood a head taller than many of the boys at school, his age. He had always been a little on the thin side but as he ran longer and longer distances, his appetite grew and he began to gain weight. He could feel the muscles in his calves and thighs, tightening and growing, as well. In the ensuing months, he also grew in height. He relished any kind of physical labor, such as chopping firewood, bringing in fodder for the animals, and carrying water for bathing and cooking. At first the servants were reluctant to let him labor alongside them. It was constantly, “Here, master, let me do that.” Gradually they realized that Claudius enjoyed the manual labor, so they accepted his help, and he became their coworker. They would joke with him and tease him when one of the pretty young servant girls flirted with him, and soon they even stopped calling him master. It was just Claudius. He also spent much of his free time with Rufus, for he truly enjoyed the man’s company. Rufus was a large, powerful man. Although not extremely tall, he gave the impression of height because of his breadth. He was well muscled and moved with a fluid grace, which Claudius likened more to a prowling animal than a man. The household staff held him in awe and discipline usually only required a stern look As a boy, Claudius always remembered having to look up at Rufus, yet lately, their gaze was almost at the same level. He had always liked the way Rufus had been devoted to his mother. He knew he had been hired to be his mother’s personal bodyguard. He had overheard stories from some of the older servants about, Rufus’ ability to clear a path through a Roman crowd. There had been two unusual occasions when Rufus had to spill blood to protect his mother. Once when a merchant, successfully prosecuted by Claudius’ father, had attempted to seek retribution by threatening Ameilia, and another instance when an unruly mob had tried to overrun the litter carrying her. On these two occasions, death had come quickly to those unfortunate enough to encounter Rufus. When he was around Rufus he felt safe. When Claudius would return to the villa, after a run, Rufus would often be there waiting with a cup of cool water and a towel. As Claudius cooled down, they would chat about affairs of the estate, a problem with this or that servant, what mare was ready to foal and other similar occurrences. One afternoon, as Claudius was stretching and about to embark on his daily run, he noticed Rufus standing by the gate, dressed in a short tunic and sandals. Claudius commenced his run and passed through the gate. As he ran by, Rufus settled in alongside, matching Claudius’ pace. “Hah, so, the old turtle would like to run with the young deer?” Claudius said, laughing. “Well, come on then, let’s see if you can keep up.” Rufus didn’t speak. He just effortlessly held any pace Claudius chose to set. Deciding to test him, Claudius picked up the pace until he was running, at top speed. This kept on for some distance. Try as he might, Claudius could gain no ground on the older man. The fast pace held. As the pair rounded a slight bend in the path, a large

leafy tree came up on their right. Rufus suddenly veered off the path and made for the tree, with Claudius close behind. The older man came to an abrupt halt, sat on the ground and leaned back against the tree to rest. Claudius did so as well. As he looked over, he noticed that Rufus was extremely winded and holding up one finger. After a time Rufus spoke. “I gave it everything I had Claudius, but I could put no distance between us. Truly you are an excellent runner, for I have never been beaten.” “Well old man, or should I say young man, I was about to fall down from exhaustion myself. If you hadn’t stopped, I surely would have. I think it’s fair to say that we ran to a draw.” They both laughed and agreed: a draw it was. As they cooled down and regained their breath, Claudius grew serious. “Rufus, tell me about what you did before you became a bodyguard for my mother?” He could tell Rufus was slightly taken aback by the question, for he did not answer immediately. “I am not particularly proud of what I was before I came to be employed by the Vero family, but I will tell you so that you may understand me better. I was a killer of men Claudius! First as a soldier, with the legions, and then it was as a gladiator in the arena. When your father hired me, I was a gladiator.” A wave of awareness spread through Claudius as many pieces of the puzzle, that was Rufus, fell into place. “You are surprised, are you not?” “Yes, I am. I had no idea you were a gladiator! You seem to be ashamed of it though, Rufus. Why? It is only a profession.” “Your mother abhorred violence and it upset her when it had to be used. “In light of this, I never mentioned my violent past, when in her presence. Despite the notoriety associated with the profession, there is little honor in plunging a blade into another man’s flesh.” “But isn’t it sometimes necessary, when your charge is threatened with harm, as in the case of the vengeful merchant or an unruly mob?” “Ah, I see you heard the stories from the wagging tongues in the kitchen. Yes, I suppose violence can be the only recourse sometimes. In those instances you mentioned, I dread to think of what might have happened, had I not used the sword. When I was a gladiator, I used to entertain at funerals and festivals for pay. It is when you are alone with your own thoughts that it is very hard to justify the killing or maiming of another man. In the legions, when you are at war, it is different. You kill to keep from being killed. Your opponent is the enemy trying to take your life. Killing in battle is much easier to live with than the other. Do you see what I mean, young master?” “I do see the difference Rufus. What if I wanted to learn to use the sword? Would you be willing to teach me?” “Yes, I would teach you, but only if you agree to two conditions. One, you never use your acquired skill to bully, and two, you never kill unless it is absolutely necessary. If you would agree to these terms, I would teach you what I know.” A silence arose between the man and the boy, while each contemplated the other’s words. When they rose to commence their return run, to the villa, Claudius turned to Rufus and said, “Your conditions sound reasonable Rufus, I will think about them.”

When Claudius’ father, returned from an extended stay in Rome, it was always a festive occasion, and this time was no different. An advance messenger had been sent so that all would be in readiness for The Master’s arrival. The heralded procession arrived in the late afternoon. The entire household came out to greet its master. Claudius was quite anxious to see his father for it had been some months since they had been together. They greeted each other formally and somewhat shyly. Claudius felt a glimmer of his father’s affection in a warm embrace after the handshake. After addressing the household assemblage and thanking them for their welcoming efforts, Quintus turned to Claudius and said, “Come, let’s retire to my study and have a good father-son talk. Callus, please bring watered wine and some of those delicious honey cakes your wife Varinia makes. Bring them to my study for my son and me.” As they walked arm in arm to the house, Claudius’ father looked at him and said, “I have missed you, my son, and it seems you are growing into manhood much too quickly.” They entered the study, Quintus’ arm affectionately around Claudius. He turned to face his son, took him by the shoulders, and gazed deeply into his eyes. “It’s so good to see you. Let me look at you. You seem to have grown a full head taller since I last saw you. You will be a man before I know it. I know I have never shown you much emotion, Claudius; I fear I have been too formal with you. It has always been difficult for me to show affection of any kind. I know, I also deprived your mother of that same affection. She knew me so well, and I also want you to know, that despite my shortcomings as a father, and as a husband, I have loved you both, very deeply. I beg your indulgence for my frequent absences and for not being here when you probably needed me the most. Let today be a fresh start for us. Then there is Rufus. I know he is devoted to you; just as he was to your mother. He has all my trust with my most precious possession, you!” Claudius was astounded by his father’s words. He had never heard him share his inner feelings so deeply before. He brushed away a tear and gave his father a hug and a beaming smile. Claudius had never felt more loved by his father, than he did at that moment. “Now son, there are some important matters we must discuss. First, tell me, how you are feeling after that encounter with the Drusus boy?” “I am fine, Father, but you must already know that too.” “Yes, please forgive me Claudius. I acted as any father would in protecting his child. I inquired and found out about the beating. Once I knew you were all right, I decided not to interfere. I haven’t confronted Senator Drusus about the incident, unless you wish me to.” “No father I don’t want you to contact the elder Drusus.” “Well then, I trust you will resolve this situation in your own way?” “Yes father, I will resolve it in my own way.” “Good. Now that we have settled that matter, there is another extremely important issue to discuss. As you may or may not know, there has been an ongoing civil war in Rome. The control of the city has been under contention and has now determined. The two

antagonists were the Consul Gaius Marius and Lucius Cornelius Sulla. Have you heard of these men and this situation, Claudius?” “Yes Father, it was mentioned in school by Antoines, a while back but he didn’t elaborate on it too much.” “Well, to continue, Sulla has defeated Marius’ forces and Marius is dead. Now that Sulla is in control of the city, he will go about eliminating all his enemies. He has in fact declared himself Dictator. This declaration gives him absolute power over everything. His mere word is the law and there is no one to oppose him.” “Cannot the senate moderate his power, father?” “No, the Senate as we know it, no longer exists. Sulla controls the army; therefore he controls the city and every institution in it. Here is the predicament Claudius. In the past, I publicly supported the seventh and last consulship of Marius. This prior alliance has automatically made me Sulla’s enemy. Word has come that he has ordered the proscription of all his enemies, which includes all of Marius’ supporters, which includes me!” “I don’t understand this word ‘proscription’, Father. What does it mean?” “What it means is, Sulla as dictator, will confiscate all of my property, strip me of my title, as a Roman senator, and probably put me in prison. I will conveniently disappear. Being my only son and heir, he will also seek to eliminate you. Sulla’s ultimate desire is to wipe out the Vero family name forever. Do you understand, Claudius?” his father said, gravely. “Yes Father, I understand,” Claudius said, grimly. Taking a ring off his finger, Quintus handed it to Claudius. “This is the ring of our ancestors. It has been handed down from father to son for many generations. When this crisis passes, this ring will testify to the fact that you are a Vero, my son and my heir. Keep it hidden until this threat to our family is past. I don’t know when that will be, perhaps never.” Claudius looked at the ring of gold with a distinctive, glittering blue stone. “I had anticipated this trouble in these past months, so, when I was last here, Rufus and I made some plans. He will take you to a safe place, that even I, am not aware of. It will be a sanctuary for now. I may be able to reconcile this matter. Even though Marius is dead, there are still those who support him and they may be able to rally and help me in my difficulty with Sulla.” “But father, when will I see you again, what will I do without you?” “At this point, I cannot say. You must trust me on this matter, Claudius. Rufus will guide you in my absence and when the time is right, if I can, I will send for you and we will be as we were before. You must be strong Claudius, as strong you have ever been, as strong as you were when your mother died. And one more thing, never forget, you are a Vero.” Claudius looked at the ring, then looked at his father, as his eyes again began to sting with tears. He knew his father was trying to prepare him for the worst and he could not contain the dread of it as it engulfed him. He was about to speak when the door to the study burst open and Rufus lunged into the room. “Dominus, a messenger has just ridden in from Rome. Sulla has dispatched a contingent of cavalry. They are on the way here to arrest you.”

Quintus paused a moment to think and muttered “It has begun”, then continued on. “Rufus, quickly, give the rider a gold denarius, tell him to thank his master and make sure he takes a different route back to Rome. Go now, you and Claudius must flee into the hills. I will delay them as long as I can. They will want to take me prisoner. I’m sure Sulla will want to humiliate me. The men on their way here are not soldiers, they are assassins. They will kill all who reside here. Stay hidden until after they leave, then you can return and gather your belongings and go to wherever it is you will seek refuge. I will warn the servants to scatter and some may be saved. “I will tell you where we are going”, Rufus said. ”No, I don’t want to know. Take my son to a place far away from Sulla’s long arm and when the time is right, get word to me by the means we have spoken of, now go!” Claudius ran to his father and hugged him desperately. “I won’t leave you father. You can’t face these men alone.” “I will be alright son but now I must bid you goodbye. You and Rufus must go.” Rufus dragged the crying boy away from his anguished father and quickly ushered him out the door. Claudius, taking a last look back at his father, turned to head for the stables. “No” cried Rufus, I can see a dust cloud in the distance. If we try to saddle horses, the riders will be upon us. Come young master we will run, as we know how to do, run for our lives.” So they ran, up into the hills, away from any road or established trail, through streams, over meadows, through the trees, trying to put distance between them and the villa. They ran for a long time. Claudius leading and Rufus keeping pace. Finally, staggering and breathless Claudius said, “I can go no further Rufus, we must rest.” They crawled into some low bushes and waited for pursuing riders to appear. None ever came. “This is the furthest and longest we have ever run,” said Rufus, “And the fastest,” added Claudius. They looked at each other in the coming darkness and smiled, then they rested, to tired to speak further. After a time, they both drifted off into an exhausted, troubled sleep. Claudius awoke with a start and squinted in the early morning sun. Rufus was not there and a flash of panic seized him. He spotted Rufus standing on top of a large rock a short distance away. The valley, where the Vero villa lay, was shrouded in a deep mist and no detail of it could be seen. “All seems quiet,” Rufus said. “We must get closer to investigate. Come young master, let’s head back to the villa. The soldiers may be gone by now.” It took the better part of the morning for them to cautiously approach the villa. They stopped frequently to listen for any evidence of danger. When they were close to the villa they waited, concealed in the dense trees, until they were certain none of Sulla’s men lay in wait. The sun had burned off most of the early morning mist, and from their vantage point they could clearly see the main house and out buildings. All was eerily quiet. There was no movement of people or animals.

“We should wait here a while longer, to be sure there is no trap. Better to be patient than to risk being taken.” They waited until the early afternoon. Seeing no movement, they quietly approached the building, nearest the tree line, which was the stable. They peered in the stable window. The stalls were empty. The corral gates stood open, the horses were nowhere to be seen. “I don’t see any evidence of bloodshed,” said Claudius. “Either they took the horses or drove them off.” The next building was the servant’s quarters and kitchen, which were attached to the main house by a covered patio. This was where they discovered the carnage. Not only had all the servants been killed, but there was evidence of torture and rape. Claudius recoiled from the horror and retched until nothing was left in his stomach and only bile filled his mouth. The tears streamed from his eyes. Rufus tried to comfort him knowing the boy had never seen anything like this. He put an arm across Claudius’ shoulder in a gesture of an understanding. Finally, when he could speak, Claudius turned to Rufus, “Why, why would they slaughter innocent servants?” Rufus could only shake his head for he too was devastated. He had known many of the dead for a long time, and they were all his friends. “Sulla is known to be cruel Claudius; he probably ordered this. Now that you see what he is capable of, you must realize your own peril. We have to assume that your father has been taken, we must be sure that you are not.” “How do you know of Sulla?” “I served under him with the Fourteenth Legion. He was legate to Consul Marius in the war against Jagurtha in Africa. Sulla never showed any mercy, ever. I once saw him make an example of two centuries of brave men who had recently served him on a mission. The secrecy of the mission was compromised but in spite of that, the mission was still successful. Without knowing who the guilty party was, Sulla randomly chose eight men from each century and ordered their fellow soldiers to beat them to death. This punishment was meted out in front of the whole army.” “Were you involved in the punishment Rufus?” “Yes young master, sadly, I was. I was an officer in command of one century and I was ordered to beat my own men to death.” “How did my father incur Sulla’s wrath, to such a degree, that he would want to take him prisoner and kill his family and all his servants?” “Your father never spoke of it directly but the household rumor was that, some years ago, before Sulla came to power, even before he served under Marius, he came into an inheritance by dubious means. He had been penniless and suddenly he became very rich. The story is that he lived with two women, one older, and the other younger. The two women were friends and both shared Sulla’s bed. The older woman had a grown son, who didn’t get along well with Sulla. Suddenly the son dies of apparent natural causes. The mother, distraught over her son’s death, commits suicide, by jumping off a cliff. The other woman died a short time later from eating the wrong kind of mushrooms. Sulla was named in both wills and inherited the estates of both women. Suddenly he is now rich and runs for political office. He was elected then rose in prominence. Your father found this to be a little too convenient, to be believable. He gathered evidence and attempted to prosecute Sulla for three murders. No proof of wrongdoing

was ever found and although it smelled of treachery, Sulla was absolved. It was known that, when the trial was over, Sulla approached your father and publicly vowed that he would have his revenge.” “It would appear that he kept his promise,” Claudius said, sadly. Making their way through the rest of the house, they came to his father’s study. Claudius dreaded what he would find there. He slowly opened the door and his heart sank when he saw the devastation. He thanked the Gods his father was not there. He again cried when saw what they had done. Quintus Vero’s entire library lay scattered about the floor. The books were all burned or badly enough damaged to be unreadable. “If they made my father watch this desecration it would have devastated him,” Claudius said. “I suspect that is exactly what they did Claudius.” Rufus thought for a moment, then without speaking, abruptly ran to the front atrium where a large statue of Juno stood. He looked at the statue, scratching his chin. What is it Rufus? Is there something about this statue you’re not telling me? My father had this statue sculpted for my mother as a wedding gift.” “Quickly, help me move it off its base,” Rufus said. They put their backs to it and slightly moved it, though it was a great weight. “Once more.” They were able to slightly move it again. To Claudius’ amazement they uncovered a compartment. There was a parcel concealed there. “Your father told me about the hiding place in the statue.” Rufus reached in, and pulled out a sack of coins and a scroll. “Hah! We have funds for our journey Claudius. There is enough here to last us for a while.” Unrolling the scroll and reading it, Rufus realized it was a document freeing all of the slaves of the household. “Your father is a great man Claudius, he thought of others even in his own time of misfortune. Now, we must be on our way. We are heading to Brundisium, just so you’ll know, and it is a long journey.” They gathered what food supplies they could find and filled two small sacks. They filled two water skins and took those as well. They both took one long last look at their home, realizing that this would probably be the last time they would ever see it. Cautiously they exited the Vero compound, quickly leaving the main road. Suddenly, Claudius put an arm in front of Rufus and said, “Wait, I hear hoof beats.” They deeper into the thick overgrowth and waited. “Can you make out who it is?” Rufus said. “Not sure yet. Yes, by the Gods, its Callus, this is beyond belief.” The two stepped out of the brush at the same time startling the approaching horse and rider. After Callus got the horse under control he, jumped down and grasped Claudius’ hands. “Master, master it is so good to see you are alive. When the soldiers were here some riders went up into the hills to search for you. I had no way to know whether they took you or not. I only came back with a slim hope that you may have eluded them and were still alive. I am more than happy that you escaped. I am very sad to report your father was taken prisoner?” “We had suspected as much.” Claudius replied. “You, you saw the others, at the villa?” Callus said, visibly shaken.

“Yes we saw. I can’t bear to think of it. We are truly sorry about Varinia, Callus,” Claudius said, placing a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder and stifling a sob of his own. “Yes, I saw them kill her. She was one of the first to die. They did not do to her what they did to the younger women, so perhaps the Gods were merciful after all. I was up in the hayloft when they came, there was no warning they just began killing the men and rounding up the women. I climbed out of the window of the hayloft and lowered myself down with a rope. Then I hid in the woods beyond the stables. They went on a horrible bloody rampage. I heard much screaming and I saw fire and smoke, coming from the main house. Their butchery lasted for a long time and when they finally left, I saw them lash your father on a horse. He had been badly beaten but he was still alive.” Now Claudius began to sob. “I was able to catch one of the horses they drove off, and I rode to Rome to try to discover where they had taken the master. I spent the night in a stable. This morning there was a big commotion near the Rostra and when I went to investigate I saw twelve severed heads, on spears, jutting from lantern posts along the wall.” Sobbing, Callus fell to his knees, “Oh master, I cannot say it, one of the heads was your father!” Claudius fell backward as though he’d been struck. “It cannot be. He said Sulla would not kill him, only imprison him, and confiscate his property. Callus, are you certain of this?” “Yes master, I saw him with my own eyes, it was your father,” Callus said, the tears springing to his eyes. Claudius shuddered, he hung his head, and wept, bitterly. “First mother, now father,” Claudius said, sinking to one knee and sobbing. Rufus and Callus tried to comfort the boy but could only helplessly witness his suffering. When the spasm of grief subsided Rufus said, “Come young master we must leave now.” He reached inside his tunic and handed Callus the scroll concealed there. “Here Callus, take this. The master left this for you. This document makes you a free man. All the servants names appear on it, sadly, you are the only one left to benefit. Take it and here, take some of this money. Go and make a new life for yourself away from the viper pit of Rome. Now Claudius, we must go, we are in great danger here. The soldiers could return at any moment. The three embraced in turn as each bid the others farewell. Callus remounted his horse and turned southwest, away from Rome, waving to them as he rode away. “We can’t go just yet Rufus; I have a small mission to complete first. I have been thinking on it for months and I have decided, I must act now, while there is still time.” Rufus just stared at Claudius in disbelief. “You’re not going to pay a visit to the Drusus villa, are you Claudius?” “Yes Rufus that is exactly what I am going to do. I have to, don’t you see? Others are devastating my life. It started with the bullying, then my pedagogue, then the beating from Drusus, then Sulla taking my father. The injustice and persecution, I must do something.” Rufus paused, nodded slowly and said, “Yes, I understand. I see you are destined to do this. Just promise me that you will be cautious. If this goes bad you could be taken prisoner and turned over to Sulla.”

“I know it is a great risk but it goes far beyond vengeance. It is something I am compelled to do.” “At least let me go with you, I can keep watch.” “No, please wait here for me. I must do this alone!” “May the Goddess Fortuna be with you this day Claudius. The Drusus villa was serene. Claudius approached the vast estate cautiously. He cut across the fields and stayed in the trees to avoid being seen. When he came closer to the villa itself he could hear a sharp, irregular crack of a sound growing louder with each closing step. Peering around the corner of one of the outbuildings, near the main house, he spotted young Drusus. He was practicing sword drills with a wooden sword and wicker shield. He was wearing only a short tunic, it was soaked with sweat. Drusus was sparring with a ‘Dead Man’, a horizontal post with an iron ball and chain hanging off one end and a round metal shield on the other. The horizontal post was fashioned to rotate on top of a vertical post set in the ground at about the height of a man. The clattering sound came from Drusus striking the metal shield, with a wooden sword and ducking as the iron ball came swinging back around. Drusus was very adept at this and the action was fast. I must use my wits to disarm him or he will repeat the beating he gave me long ago, he thought. As Claudius observed his adversary, he realized Drusus had grown into full manhood. He waited and watched, warily looking for any sign of an attendant to raise an alarm. Drusus was quite alone. When Claudius stepped out from behind cover, Drusus didn’t immediately see him and kept on with his drill. Suddenly, he just stopped, stood stark still, and slowly turned to look at Claudius. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the class dreamer, and all grown-up too. We missed you at school this last term Vero. We wondered what had happened to you. We guessed you might have hurt your back somehow. So, now that you are here, what do you want?” “I came to challenge a coward who doesn’t fight fair,” Claudius said. He could see Drusus bristle at the comment. “So, you would goad me into a fight, with insults, would you? I don’t think I want to fight with you today dreamer boy. Just go away. I don’t have time for you; I need to practice my sword work.” “You’re very formidable with your wooden sword in your hand Drusus. How formidable would you be without any weapons at all; just your bare hands? How would you be facing a real opponent and not a piece of wood on a post, you arrogant scum?” Drusus was becoming angry now, his face reddened, the veins in his neck stood out. “I warn you Vero, I will not tolerate your insults. Get off my property before I call my servants and have you thrown out into the road.” “Is that how you will face an enemy in battle, when you become a soldier, Drusus? Call your servants to come save your miserable ass, you piece of mule shit?” Drusus was now incensed. He threw his wooden sword and shield aside and came toward Claudius, menacingly. “This time I will finish the job I once began. This time I will kill you dreamer boy.”

Claudius had visualized this scene in his mind a thousand times. He waited until Drusus was almost upon him then he met him with a quick low body block catching Drusus about waist high. The momentum of Drusus’ rush carried him over Claudius’ back. He went sprawling in the dust, like a sack of wheat. Drusus sprang back up quickly and came at Claudius again, this time more cautiously. Taking a pugilist’s stance, he attacked with his fists. Claudius ducked and neatly parried several blows then stepped inside of one, delivering a heavy blow to Drusus’ gut. As Drusus doubled over Claudius brought his fist down hard on the back of his neck, sending him face first into the dirt. Drusus got up a bit shakily and brushed himself off. “This is going to be harder than I thought, dreamer boy,” Drusus said, spitting dirt from his mouth. “You and I both know that I only need to land one blow and when you go down, there will be no quarter given and I will beat you to death with my fists. Your own whore of a mother wouldn’t recognize you, even if she were alive.” Drusus attacked again and Claudius neatly sidestepped the rush, bringing his knee up into Drusus’ mid-section with all his strength. He could hear the breath being driven from the man, as he staggered forward and fell to one knee. Claudius grabbed a handful of hair, tilted Drusus’ head back and delivered a powerful uppercut blow directly on Drusus’ chin. The blow drove Drusus over backward, and rendered him unconscious. Claudius quickly looked around for any evidence of an alarm. All was quiet. Claudius looked down at Drusus, lying in the dirt. “Farewell you arrogant dog. We are even now. I can leave satisfied. I go to embrace a new life, a life free of scum like you.” Claudius carefully retraced his earlier route until he spotted Rufus, concealed by the roadside, waiting patiently. “I see you have dealt with the situation that caused you anguish young master. Do you feel better for having done it?” “Fortuna was smiling on me today Rufus. I accomplished my goal and other than some sore knuckles, I am none the worse for wear. I do feel better, a great deal better. We can head for Brundisium now.” As they set off into the hills, Claudius turned to Rufus and said, “I have thought much about this Rufus. I don’t ever want to be helpless again. I want to learn how to use the sword. I want to learn to defend myself and aid those that need defending. I agree to your two conditions Rufus. Will you keep your promise to teach me how to use a sword?” “Yes young master, I will.” “Good, oh and one more thing Rufus, please don’t call me master anymore, as of now, I am to be known as your friend, Claudius Marcus Varinus.”

Chapter II Brundisium As they topped the low mountain, the panorama of the coastal city of Brundisium laid spread before them. It was a gigantic, animated mosaic, bursting with life, edged by the restless sea. The journey had been a long and arduous. They had traveled overland avoiding populated areas for fear of Sulla’s agents. They paused now to feast their eyes on the blue ocean and the white sand beaches, stretching for miles, as far as the eye could see, the white ribbon of sand broken only by an occasional rock jetty or a spit of land. Then there was the city itself, bustling with the activity only a heavily populated city could display. There were war galleys, multi-tiered with their large square sails and banks of oars. There were merchant ships riding low in the water, waiting for their turn at the docks, laden with goods, which, when unloaded would be sold or traded to every corner of the vast Roman territories. Ostia was the port that serviced Rome, but this was the port that serviced all the lands that bordered “Our Sea”. The ship building yards seemed to be the busiest of all. From their elevated vantage point, Claudius and Rufus could see the workmen, scurrying over and around the ships under construction. Some of the larger ships were protected from the weather by long sheds. Other, more easily constructed craft were being built in the open. The necessary supports and staging surrounded the skeleton of the vessels. From their vantage point, the workers resembled ants, feasting on the corpse of some large lifeless insect, except in this case, the carcass got bigger and more complete instead of slowly vanishing as it was consumed. They sat and drank in the sight, as if they were intoxicated by it. They had been able to smell the sea several days before they had actually reached this point. Now, they were even more refreshed by the air and its clean fresh scent. There was more than one shipyard, there were in fact three. “There”, said Rufus, “the big yard in the middle. That is where we will be going to seek out my cousin Galbus.” Claudius looked in fascination, for he had never seen such a sight. Even Rome, the center of the world, was not like this. He found himself looking forward to the coming adventure with a great deal of anticipation. The respite felt good and both men were refreshed. “We should go now,” said Rufus. “We still have a half days journey to get to the shipyard, and I want to arrive before the work shift ends.” From their hilltop position they could see many well-used paths leading into the city. They chose one and began their descent. Having spent most of his life away from the city, the enormity of it almost overwhelmed Claudius. He had memories of Rome but they were vague; this however, was a unique experience. His mind was inundated as he tried to identify each new stimulant to his senses. Realizing the impossibility of the task, he just tried to absorb and experience and the mixture of sights, sounds and smells. The path they had been following turned into a dusty road, lined on both sides with hovels made of every imaginable material. The children playing in the street looked

hungry, dirty and ill kept. Poverty was everywhere and once the two travelers were determined to be strangers, begging children besieged them. “Watch your belongings,” Rufus warned, “Children steal as well as adults”. No sooner had Rufus spoken than Claudius felt a slight tug inside his tunic. Moving much quicker than the perpetrator, he seized a small hand, attached to a boy of about six to seven years of age. The boy tried his best to break free but Claudius held him fast. “And what might you be after, young master?” The boy looked at Claudius with absolute terror in his eyes and didn’t speak. As Claudius held him the boy suddenly stopped trying to free himself, he just relaxed, resigning himself to his captor and to his fate. Claudius reached into his tunic and withdrew a sestersius from his purse and put it into the boy’s free hand. “Next time just ask, do not steal,” he said, and let the boy go. The boy immediately scampered a short distance away, stopped looked at the coin, then looked back over his shoulder, with what Claudius thought was a look of gratitude, then ran away to vanish among the sea of shacks. As they moved closer to the center of the city, the huts gave way to apartment houses, then to shops and inns. Claudius thought it reminded him of Rome, the streets clogged with an endless throng of people, wagons and animals. The street vendors hawking their wares, the cooking odors from the hearths of the inns, and above all, the smell of the sea, sometimes refreshing, often strange and unpleasant. Then there were the sailors, men who made their lively hood from the sea. They walked differently, and Claudius wondered why, until he realized, their gait matched the rhythm of a rolling deck of a ship beneath one’s feet. He had been aboard a large sailing vessel once when he was about ten years old. The family had traveled, by land, from Rome to Cannae, on official Senate business. Once business was completed, his family took ship near Cannae and sailed south along the east coast of Italy, around the heel of the boot, and up the west coast to Ostia. The trip had consumed almost a month and Claudius had loved all of it. He particularly liked the peacefulness of the sea and the way the setting sun painted the sky the deep reds, stunning pinks, and purples, just before it seemed to sink into the sea. The wares for sale in the shops of Brundisium were much different than those in the shops of Rome. Colored fabrics, jewelry, live animals, hats, and shoes, items the like of which Claudius had never seen before. Even Rufus was astounded by the variety of goods to be had. They were ravenously hungry and tempted by the aromas wafting from the hearths of the numerous inns. They stopped to eat at one of cleaner establishments, and enjoyed a surprisingly good cup of wine while waiting for their meal. “Why are those two women staring at us Rufus, and why is one of them raising the hem of her garment and exposing her bare leg?” Claudius asked. Rufus chuckled a bit and answered, “Those women are for sale Claudius, just as the goods in the shops. They are displaying their wares to help you decide to buy.” When Claudius realized what Rufus was saying, his face turned scarlet. Their food arrived just then and Claudius was momentarily taken off the spot. He ventured a glance back at the two women who were smiling and laughing, having overheard most of the conversation.

“Now that we are well fed, let’s head for the ship yard and find my cousin Galbus. He will help us melt into the population of Brundisium”. They arrived at the shipyard in the early afternoon. The level of activity, they had observed from their hilltop vantage point, earlier that morning, was even more pronounced now that they were in the midst of it. Up close, the ship under construction was enormous. “They don’t look that big in the water,” Claudius remarked. “Much of a ships bulk is under water when it is afloat,” Rufus said. They had little trouble finding Galbus; all they had to do was look for the biggest man Claudius had ever seen. When he spotted Rufus, Galbus came at a run to greet his cousin, with a great bear hug, from a bear of a man. Galbus was much taller than Rufus and must have outweighed him by five stone. Fully bearded, his great belly shook when he laughed, which, evidenced by the lines at the corners of his eyes proved, he did quite often. “Come, come let’s go to my overseer’s shack, have a cup of wine and talk of old times.” Shack was an understatement. It was actually a small house, centrally located in the shipyard. It consisted of four large rooms including a kitchen, with a large fireplace. There was also an overhead loft for sleep quarters. The house was solidly constructed of brick. One entire wall of the largest room was covered with wooden compartments, which were filled with rolled-up documents. Claudius correctly guessed, the documents were plans for ships. Each compartment was clearly labeled with a number. A seeker with the correct number could easily find his way to the right set of plans. Galbus proceeded to open a cupboard and produced a jug of wine and three cups. Pouring a generous amount into each cup, he handed one to each of them and raised his in a toast. “Here’s to old friends, new friends and good times,” and he drained his in one great gulp. Pouring himself another portion, he motioned for them to sit on one of the many stools surrounding a large table. He took a stool himself and said, “Now, what is this all about?” Through several hours and several more cups of wine, Rufus related the entire story of Sulla’s attack, the imprisonment and death of his patron and Claudius’ father, Quintus Vero, and their journey up to the current point in time. “So, you need a place to lay low! I can provide this for you. We will find you jobs and you can live and work here, at the yard. This will be your home for as long as you want to stay. There is a loft over the sail maker’s shop where you can sleep and you can share my table for your meals. Come, we will stow your gear and I will give you a tour of my shipyard. It is not mine actually, but I have been here for thirty-five years, and in my overseer position for ten. Nothing goes on here that I don’t know about. Only we three shall know of this meeting.” The tour turned out to be an unforgettable experience for Claudius. The shear size of the shipyard was astounding. He observed, first hand, what goes into building a ship a complex process to be sure. After the tour, they retired to Galbus’ house, where Galbus’ housekeeper served them a meal. She was a handsome Greek woman named Alletes, who was obviously more to Galbus than just hired help. She fussed over them and asked Claudius, at least ten

times, if he had enough to eat. Her affection for Galbus was quite evident, as she touched him numerous times in her meanderings to serve them. His affection for her was also evident in seeing the responses he gave to her touch. Sated and content, they went to sit before the great fireplace while Galbus set a warming, crackling fire to chase away the chill of the evening. “So young Claudius, after seeing the yard, where do you think you might want to work?” At this point Rufus interrupted, “I think he should work in the saw pits.” Galbus gave Rufus a quizzical look and said, “I don’t want to question your wisdom Rufus, for I’m sure there is a reason for your comment: but honestly, the boy isn’t big enough for the saw pits. A saw pit team must be very strong through the shoulders and upper body, and each man should be of similar physical size, to balance the push-pull stroke of the saw blade.” “All right then what would you suggest Cousin?” “For the time being, let him haul buckets of water for the saw pit teams. This job will put some beef on the lad and later on, if he wants the sawpits, he can have them. On hot, dry days I assure you, providing drinking water for the pit teams, is a formidable task.” “This I would agree to. Is this agreeable to you Claudius?” “Yes, that sounds like a plan I could live with.” The job was indeed, a formidable task. There were four saw pits; each was covered by a roof, allowing work to continue, even during foul weather. Each pit was worked by a team; one man on a top platform, and the other down in a pit six feet square by about seven feet deep. The idea was to set a large log in position, secure it in a cradle, between the top platform and the pit, and using a long two man saw, slice boards off of a log, in a lengthwise manner. This was called ripping and was done to create planking of uniform thickness. The planks were then collected, de-barked and dried in a kiln. After drying, the boards were hand planed as necessary; to square them up, and then the planks were collected and used as a lumber source for whatever was needed in the ship building effort. The first thing Claudius noted was the physiques of the men on the pit teams. Their shoulders, arms and upper bodies were corded with long rippling muscles. Even their legs were muscular from the push-pull motion of their task. On his first day, as a water bearer, Claudius helped a boy named Placidus, who was perhaps a year or two older than Claudius’ fifteen years. After an introduction, they were left alone and Placidus proceeded to show Claudius what to do. “Do not spill the water while you are carrying it,” Placidus said. “Just do as I do and you will see what you need to know.” The work shift of the starting pit teams was sun-up until midday. By that hour, the first teams were physically spent and were relieved by fresh workers. In those work shift spans, Claudius was amazed at the amount of water consumed by the eight men. As they worked, they glistened with sweat, thereby having to drink a lot of water to replace what they had lost in their labor. The only rest for a team came when, the saw needed sharpening, or they had completed slicing a log. Slaves would set a new log into position and the slicing would begin again. The slicing started slowly, but once the cut was

established, the cut advanced quickly. Depending on the type of wood and the length of the log, a good crew could create many planks during a work shift. The men of the teams were not slaves, but well paid freemen, and proud of the uniformity of the planks they produced. The water to quench their thirst was carried in two buckets, held by a curved, sculptured yoke, carved to fit around the neck and over the shoulders of the bearer. Claudius’ task was to haul water up from a nearby well, fill two buckets, hook them over the yoke ends, and carry them, at a run, to tubs waiting on the top platforms of the pits. The platform man would just have to dip a ladle to get a drink, while the man in the pit would have to have a bucket lowered to him, with a ladle inside. As soon as their thirst was quenched, the team would resume their work. Claudius would then move on to the next pit. The first day saw Claudius stumble, spill the buckets and have to return to the well at a run to replenish them. The spillage on the second day was a little less, and by the third day, he could complete his route without any spillage at all. At the end of a week Claudius was physically exhausted but he had mastered the task of the carrying of the water. In off hours, he and Rufus talked much about their day’s labor. Claudius never complained about his aching body. As Claudius rose to the task of water bearer, Rufus was also being trained. He was to be Galbus’ official, assistant, overseer. Galbus would lay down guidelines for the work and Rufus would see that the instructions were carried out. There was one lone dissenter to this master plan, and Rufus took him behind a storage shed and quickly convinced him to see the beauty of the master plan. As a result of this newfound system, the yard ran more efficiently than it ever had before. The yard owners were well pleased with the subsequent improved efficiency and the increases in production. While at his daily tasks, Claudius noticed several things. Once a shift, in every pit, the worked stopped to allow for the hand sharpening of the saw blade. While this occurred, the team sat idle. If the sharpener was late, the team operated with a dull saw, slowing them down and giving undue rise to fatigue. Also noticeable was a delay getting water to the pitman if the bucket accidentally tipped, or a sudden gust of wind filled it with sawdust. Seeing this, but saying nothing, Claudius decided to give it some thought. The shipyard work schedule closely followed the market intervals of the city itself. Every eighth day became a day of rest for the resident shipyard workers. They could relax, or travel into the city for whatever recreation they desired. It was on one of these days Claudius obtained paper and writing materials, from Galbus, and retired, for several hours, to a small table in the rear of the plan room in the overseer’s house. The next morning he handed the fruits of his labors to Galbus and strode off to work with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Galbus and Rufus were anxious to see what Claudius had produced and quickly opened the documents. “Why, it is a set of sketches with a list of recommendations. Let me see what this is all about.” After studying the documents Galbus said, “By Neptune’s trident, the boy has designed a foolproof method to get water to the pit man and recommended a way to shorten the idle time of the teams. And, by the Gods, even a way to make the saw cut through the log more easily! This is exciting Rufus. I must be off to

show these sketches to the owners. I will return as soon as I can,” and with no further explanation, Galbus hurried out of the house, with the scrolls stuffed under his arm. Not understanding anything Galbus had said, Rufus set out to find Claudius and get an explanation. He found Claudius busy at his work. Rufus took him aside and said, “Now, what was in those documents, that so excited Galbus?” Claudius smiled and said, “I thought about it and I designed a way for the pit man to get water through a piping system, out of the storage tub, and down under the ground. He can drink from a tap. No dirt or sawdust, and water whenever he wants it. Also, the use of animal fat or beeswax to lubricate the saw blade so it will still cut, but move through the wood more easily. Then I recommended that the pit team be taught to sharpen the saw themselves, so they don’t have to wrestle with a dull blade waiting for the sharpener to arrive.” “It sounds good to me and it certainly got Galbus all excited. We shall see what results.” Galbus was not in attendance as they sat for their evening meal. He often stayed late at jobsites, to solve a particular construction problem, so his absence wasn’t unusual. “Galbus should be along soon. I am anxious to hear what he has to say about your plan.” No sooner had Rufus spoken than Galbus burst into the room, bubbling over with excitement. In two great strides he crossed the room, reached down and pulled Claudius out of his chair and engulfed him in one of his great bear hugs. “Your plan is adopted Claudius. The owners loved it, we will begin instituting the changes, you recommended, first thing in the morning.” Nodding and smiling, Claudius calmly turned to the two men, bowed, turned on his heel and said, “I thought they might like it,” and walked out of the room. As he lay in his bed that night he felt very pleased with himself. The thought he had, as he drifted off to sleep was, this thinking process has some merit. I believe I might try it again. As the changes in the sawpit routine took shape, there was some grumbling among the men. Galbus assured Claudius that this was normal, and not to worry about it. As the teams adopted the changes, they quickly reassumed their old operating rhythm, and within a week, production had increased by ten planks per day. Galbus was ecstatic and even gave Claudius a small bonus to be added to his wages. With passing time, Claudius became much stronger and taller. One day Rufus remarked, “You have done well as a water bearer. Galbus tells me you are ready for the sawpits. Well, are you ready for the pits Claudius?” “Yes Rufus, I believe I am,” he said. “Good, then you will start tomorrow, and by the way, you will have another small increase in pay.” Claudius knew what work in the pits would entail so he was not surprised at his initial awkwardness at manipulating a handle, attached to the end of a six foot saw blade. He started out down in the pit. His teammate, Didius, on the top platform, was also to be his teacher. Didius was a two-year pit veteran, as well as a patient teacher, and by the end of their shift, Claudius was handling the pit work very well.

“Tomorrow we change places,” Didius said, as he left for the day at the end of their shift. That evening Claudius could hardly move without a great deal of pain. Carrying water was not easy work but it had not conditioned his shoulder muscles for this. Rufus took pity on him and kneaded a salve into his aching muscles until the pain lessened a bit. “The pain will subside in a few days Claudius and then it will be a thing of the past. Remember, the muscles you are building now will be needed to be a proper swordsman later.” Claudius made no comment to this statement, lay back on his bed and immediately fell into an exhausted sleep. Rufus was right. The pain disappeared in a few days and before long, Claudius’ body began to look like a smaller version of the men on the pit teams. He could work an entire shift, up top, or down in the pit and still have enough strength left to go for a long run on the beach. He found that taking long strides in the soft sand relaxed the aching muscles in his thighs and calves. The increased strength in his legs from running, actually helped his body to tolerate the rigors of the pits. Working and running also gave him a ravenous appetite. When he and Rufus would take their meal with Galbus, Galbus would joke with him. “Claudius, you keep eating like this, you will be bigger than me,” he would say, laughing, his great belly shaking. Claudius knew he was getting stronger and taller. His old tunics were now too short and too tight across the chest. Whenever he did exert himself, his body responded with an ease and grace he had never known before. He could labor all day and when his shift was over, he would run the beach for long distances without tiring. The return to running had been his idea. He loved the sea and sound of the surf. When he ran on the beach it was as though his feet grew wings and he left the earth and he ran through space, like Mercury of Greek legend, or Prometheus riding the winged Pegasus across the sky. He felt as free as the soaring, swooping seagulls in their neverending journey through the air. “I am glad you have taken up running again,” Rufus said to him, one evening. “It is good. Running, and the pit work will harden your body and get it ready for the training.” Claudius knew what he meant and replied, “When will the training begin Rufus?” “Soon,” Rufus replied. Claudius loved the shipyard work. His glow of good health and dedication to hard work, gave rise to his already friendly nature. His fellow yard workers were now very familiar with his comings and goings and they joked with him and called out his name, bantering with him as he passed by. In short, he was well liked. His success at improving the production of the sawpits had not gone unnoticed by some of the other lead foremen. One day, while passing through the yard, on his way to the beach, he was hailed by Faberius, the head boat builder. “Ah, young Claudius, I see you are getting stronger every day. Quite different than when you first arrived here, eh!” Claudius had always been shy whenever anyone praised him; he just nodded a bit, smiled and thanked Faberius for the compliment. “Tell me Claudius, are you happy with your work in the saw pits?”

“Why yes, I am happy there Faberius, why do you ask?” “Would you ever consider working for me as a boat builder? What I mean is, I would like to make you my apprentice, teach you how to build fine ships, like the ancient Phoenicians did. What do you say, would you like to give it a try?” “I’m not sure Faberius. It does sound interesting, maybe I will give it a try, although I will have to talk with Galbus and Rufus before I could give you an answer.” “I have already spoken to Galbus, he said that if you would like to try boat building, it is alright with him. Besides, if you decide you don’t like it, you can always return to the saw pits.” “I am grateful to you Faberius, and flattered by your consideration. Let me think on it and I will give you my answer tomorrow.” That evening, at supper, with Rufus and Galbus, Claudius raised the subject of boat building and the offer Faberius had made. Rufus was skeptical, thinking Claudius’ physical conditioning might be compromised, if he had a less physically demanding job. “Rufus don’t be such an old woman! Boat building is hard work. Young Claudius here will become very familiar with the business end of, hammers, chisels, and adzes. Don’t worry, it is a very physically demanding job.” “So, you will take the offer Claudius,” Rufus asked? “Yes, I believe I will Rufus. It sounds very interesting and, I can learn how to build a ship.” Working with Faberius proved to be the most enlightening experience of Claudius’ young life. He was almost sixteen now, in full flower of youth, and eager to learn all he could about the art of building ships. His keen mind attacked any problem he encountered, just as he had done at the sawpits. He offered many innovations and improvements to the ancient art of shipbuilding, and his ideas were well received. Before long, he was one of the best-paid laborers at the yard. Under Rufus’ tutelage, his physical development had also flowered. He could run for long distances without tiring, and Rufus had taught him how to swim. Through working, swimming and running, Claudius was developing a fine physique and received many a favorable glance from the occasional woman he happened to encounter. He now weighed as much as Rufus and was a head taller, as well. When in a reflective mood, Claudius often thought he could be quite content, here by the sea, working, building ships. It was a clean proper life and a good place to settle down and maybe even raise a family. An icy cold February dawn brought in a fierce winter storm. It blew in from the sea with gale force winds that whipped the waves into such a frenzy, they grew to monstrous size and crashed onto rock and sand. Torrents of rain fell, causing some minor flooding at the yard. All work was suspended and after two days the wind ceased, the sea calmed, the sun shone and all was serene once more. There was some minor clean up to do, at the yard, but after half the day at it, order was restored. As a reward for their hard work, Faberius gave his crew the rest of the day off, so Claudius decided to go for a run on the beach. There were massive amounts of debris scattered, along the beach, as far as the eye could see. It seemed as though anything that could break loose and float had been cast up on the beach. Claudius’ main concern was avoiding what objects were in his path, as he ran.

As he passed by a small rocky inlet, something he saw, out of the corner of his eye, caught his attention. He jogged over to the spot and realized what had caught his eye was a small sailboat wedged between two massive rocks. It must have washed up during the storm, he thought. The boat didn’t appear to be badly damaged, except for a large hole near the bow, just below the water line. A closer look revealed a sharp, protruding rock edge, under the hole as having probably caused the damage. The mast and boom were intact. The rudder seemed sound, and except for the hole, she looked sea worthy. Hurrying back to the yard he searched for Faberius until he found him going over some plans for the next days work. “Faberius, come see what I have found,” he said excitedly. “What is it Claudius, what have you found?” “A boat Faberius, I found a boat. Come take a look.” Finding their way back to the wreck, Faberius performed a quick inspection and confirmed what Claudius had originally thought. “The damage is only minor Claudius, it can easily be repaired. By maritime law, if you re-float her, you can claim her as salvage. You have found yourself a boat Claudius,” Faberius said, clapping him on the back. “It must have come from far away. The construction is definitely not from any of the boat builders around Brundisium. We’ll get her repaired in the morning.” That night, Claudius gathered some provisions and returned to the site of the wrecked boat. He built a fire, to stay warm, and tried to sleep; but his excitement of his find prevented any deep slumber. When he did doze off, he slept fitfully, dreaming of skimming over the wave tops in his newfound treasure. Faberius returned at first light with a horse, towropes, roller logs and some leather to create a temporary patch. By mid-morning, with the aid of the horse and the rollers, they were able to wrestle the patched boat, out of its rocky trap and down to the waters edge. With the horse pulling and one last tremendous shove, they got the boat into the water. Pleased with their efforts, the two fell exhausted and laughing into the surf. She looked much more streamlined afloat, than she did out of the water and again, Claudius paused to dream of her running with the wind in her sails, flying across the open sea. Faberius had also brought a long pole. With Faberius, and the horse, on a guide rope, Claudius was able to pole the boat to a small inlet not far from the shipyard. Reversing their earlier efforts, they were able to beach the boat and secure her beyond the reach of the tide. “This is as good a place as any to do the repair work,” Faberius said. In the days following, and with Faberius to guide him, Claudius began the process of rebuilding the boat. Claudius constructed lateral supports, to keep the boat upright, and beginning at the gunwales, on the damaged side, he stripped her skin, off the ribbing, to a point just below the hole and began to rebuild her. She was a lovely little craft. Eighteen feet long with a six-foot beam tapering to a four-foot transom. Her gunwales were two feet from the water line and she drew four feet of water, including the keel. She had a mast to accommodate a lateen sail and she had definitely been built for speed. Claudius labored for many hours over the next few weeks. After completing his daily work, and his exercise regimen, he would eat a quick meal and commence his

restoration. On many nights he would return to the loft, long after dark and exhausted, fall into a deep sleep, as soon as his head hit the pillow. On most days, he awoke, dressed and was out the door before Rufus even awoke. As a result, they had very little contact face-to-face contact. What little passed between them was an occasional inquiry, by Rufus, as to how the project was going. Claudius would give brief replies and be off to for his work shift at the yard. Finally after a month’s hard work, Claudius’ little craft was again seaworthy. He made several improvements in the original design. Using the knowledge gained from the teachings of Faberius, he built and installed a deeper rounded keel of his own design. For strength, he added vertical ribs spaced every two feet, stem to stern. He reinforced the gunwales and transom. He used specially made, long bronzed nails that would be impervious to the ravages of seawater, to marry the boat’s skin to its ribs. Even the sail was made of a new, strong lightweight canvas, which had been given to him by Galbus. There had been a surplus of the material, left over from outfitting a trireme and Galbus had made sure to put it aside for his friend’s project. Soon, after rigging her with all the necessary appointments, she was ready for her maiden voyage. At supper, that evening, Claudius could hardly contain his excitement at completing his project. He related to his companions, all the details of his boat building efforts, including all of the improvements he had made. Earlier in the day, he had thanked Faberius for his invaluable help, and now he took the opportunity to thank Galbus and Rufus, for their advice and assistance. The two men listened, with great interest, to Claudius’ tale, and then gave each other a knowing glance and a wink. “Now that the boat is finished, when will you take her out for a trial run?” Galbus asked. Claudius was suddenly struck dumb with realization. Looking first at Galbus, then at Rufus, somewhat embarrassed, he replied, “It just occurred to me, I don’t know how to sail.” Rufus made a slight chuckle, which quickly turned into a belly laugh. Galbus, and then Claudius joined in and soon they were all laughing so hard, the tears were streaming down their faces. Even Alletes, coming in to see what all the commotion was about, got caught up in the moment, laughing as hard as the men, without even knowing what she was laughing about. Spent from the merriment, Galbus managed to say, “Don’t worry my young friend, I can teach you the basics, and before long, you will be a salty old sea dog, just like me.” This statement gave rise to even more laughter. And so it was, under Galbus’ tutelage, Claudius became a sailor. He would look forward to windy days when he could sail his tiny craft, with the wind at his back or on either beam. He learned to tack, to close haul, broad reach, and also the wind direction into which a sailboat cannot be sailed. The improvements he installed had made the boat very nimble and even Galbus, when he took the helm of Claudius’ boat, remarked that she was a joy to guide along the wave tops. Claudius would make it a point to speak to any ship captain he happened to meet, at the yard or at the piers. His questions to these men were always about navigation and how did the captains guide their vessels when out of land’s sight. He learned that most captains used “coastwise navigation”, never leaving land’s sight. Very few knew how to

read the stars and the sun to tell them where they were and what course to steer to get where they were going, in the open ocean. Most long voyages were made with favorable winds that only occurred during certain seasons. There were optimal times of year for these voyages, and often, the voyages would not be undertaken unless these favorable winds were present. Claudius also learned many ships were lost at sea. They would embark on a voyage and never be seen or heard from again. The only explanation needed was that the sea god Neptune had called them home; that was taken to be explanation enough. One evening, after they had eaten, Rufus said to Claudius, “Come let’s take a walk.” As they strolled through the shipyard and onto the adjacent beach, Rufus said, “I haven’t seen much of you these past months. I know you have been busy with your boat. I see how much you enjoy sailing. It gives me pleasure to see you enjoy the fruits of your efforts. We have a good life here at the shipyard, don’t you think? We are respected, we earn a good wage, life for us is good once more, so tell me Claudius, and do you still wish to learn to use the sword?” He could see Claudius pause to reflect. “I honestly have not considered that for a long time Rufus. Caught up with work, daily exercise and my boating, becoming a swordsman hasn’t really been uppermost in my thoughts.” Rufus could also sense Claudius’ mood change, as he thought of the past and the pain associated with those thoughts. “I have waited almost two years to ask you that question because I wanted to allow you time to enjoy your youth and become a man not be pushed into it: but now, seeing the way you dealt with young Crixus, I believe you are better prepared to answer my question.” It had happened two market intervals before. Crixus was a year or two older than Claudius and he was the shipyard bully. He had publicly berated Claudius once before. It seemed he thought he was the star pupil of Faberius, and he in fact, might have been, but then Claudius had come along. Faberius had been so taken with his new apprentice that he seemed to completely forget about Crixus. Claudius became the interloper, the reason Crixus had fallen out of favor and Crixus always felt that Claudius must be punished for his transgressions. All these things Crixus thought and he made no secret of his animosity. So, on this particular day, Crixus was determined to even the score. As Claudius secured his boat and was leaving the pier area, he noticed several yard workers following him. As he progressed toward home the several turned into a few more and soon, a good-sized group followed in his wake. As Claudius approached the sail loft, Crixus stepped out from behind it, stood in front of him and blocked his path. “Ah, the great Claudius, thief of boats and kisser of asses, what a great pleasure it is to see you.” Claudius now knew why a group would be following him. They had heard about Crixus’ plan and were hoping to see a fight. Claudius also noticed the flushed face of the man and correctly guessed that too much wine had also played a part in this drama. “Crixus, go home and sleep it off and we can discuss what troubles you at a later time.” “No, ass kisser, we will discuss it now!” With that, he lunged at Claudius, attempting to land a blow.

Crixus had been at the shipyard a good deal longer than Claudius and had worked at many different jobs, including a stint in the sawpits. As a result he was heavily muscled and potentially dangerous. Claudius knew that if any blows were landed, he might come out the worst for it. Sharpened by his years of physical conditioning, Claudius easily side stepped Crixus’ lunge and, as he went clumsily past, Claudius slipped his right arm under Crixus’ right arm and locked his forearm behind Crixus’ neck and grasped his own left bicep, all in one swift motion. Before he even realized it, Crixus was locked in an iron-like grip and essentially helpless. He could neither attack nor retreat. “Now Crixus, you will apologize to me for your comments, or I will break your neck.” Claudius applied more pressure to an already painful grip. Crixus at first refused to apologize, but one more level of pressure proved to be enough and he apologized profusely. The bystanders were now laughing and taunting Crixus, as many of them had been his victim. Now, the tables had been turned. The workers were enjoying the drama immensely. “One more thing Crixus, before I let you go you must take an oath that you will not seek retribution on anyone for what has happened here today. Also, from now on, you will treat everyone with respect. Will you give us your word on this Crixus?” “Never, never,” Crixus spat, through clenched teeth. “I will never agree to such an oath.” Applying pressure as before Claudius said, “What did you say?” “Yes, yes, I will, I agree,” Crixus said, almost in tears from the intense pain. With this, Claudius released his grip and stepped away. Humiliated, and in pain, Crixus stumbled away, rubbing the back of his neck, mumbling to himself. The group immediately closed in around Claudius, laughing and patting him on the back, praising him for handling the encounter with Crixus so well. As Claudius came back into the moment, Rufus was repeating his question. “Well Claudius, your reasons for wanting to learn the way of the sword have been tempered with almost two years of peace. You have accomplished much here at the yard. You are well liked and respected. The Crixus incident showed me you have matured in considering your actions. So, I ask again, do you still want me to teach you what you wanted to know, so long ago?” “Yes Rufus. I still want you to teach me. I remember how helpless I felt when Sulla’s thugs killed my father and my friends. I don’t ever want to be helpless like that again.” “Very well then we can begin your training as soon as you experience one more thing. You have been in training a long time, have you not?” “Yes Rufus you know I have, why do you ask?” “Here you are a strong, virile young man, and I might add, not bad looking, as well.” “What are you getting at Rufus?” “You have learned many things since we came to the shipyard Claudius. You have learned to saw planks, build ships, sail boats, and you are an exceptional athlete; but Claudius, there is one thing you know very little about.” “What might that be Rufus?”

“Women Claudius, you know very little about women. With the exception of your mother, may Juno preserve her spirit; you have had no close contact with any female, for several years. Don’t you feel it’s about time?” Not having to think much about that statement, Claudius admitted, that was the case. “You are right Rufus, other than Alletes, I have had very little to do with any woman.” “Here is what I propose Claudius. I have this lady friend I have been talking with. She is, as we say, experienced in the ways of men and women. We have discussed you in particular. I recommend, and she agrees, that now would be a good time for you to be taught about the ways of women. Here is the plan, and you must trust me on this. She would like you to come to her house and spend an evening with her. She will teach you many things about women that you don’t now know.” “But Rufus, what has this to do with my training, and how will it help me to be a good swordsman?” This is more about growing up and becoming a man, than it is about a skill Claudius. You have worked very hard and not had any respite from your tasks. This will teach you something about yourself and what it is like to learn how to relax. It will be of great help to mentally prepare you for what you are about to undertake. So, what do you say?” “Alright Rufus, if you think it is meaningful, I will agree to spend an evening with this woman. But I warn you, she best not be ugly.” Following Rufus’ directions, the next evening, Claudius found the house of a woman called Celesta. He knocked on the door, and waited, not knowing what to expect. As the door opened, he drew in his breath. Standing before him was the most handsome woman he had ever seen. Height about to his chin, full figured, well-rounded in hip and breasts. Her hair was blacker than night, cascading over her shoulders and out of sight down her back. Her eyes were confident and of the deepest beautiful color green he could have ever imagined. He could not break away from her eyes. They held him captive. They held each other’s gaze this way for what seemed like an eternity. He searching the depth of her eyes as she searched the depth of his. After a while she spoke. Her voice was husky, very pleasant and self-assured. “You have very honest blue eyes”, she said. “I was lost in them, forgive me.” “Forgiveness is not needed, I was also lost in yours,” he replied. “Rufus was right, you are a fine looking young man. Tell me Claudius, what did you see when you looked into my eyes?” “I see a woman of compassion, self assured, confident and content with her lot in life. Now, tell me what my eyes revealed to you?” She replied without hesitation, “I see pain of the loss of ones held dear. I see confidence in your self and in your abilities. I see devotion and loyalty to those you care for. I see honesty, and also concern for those less fortunate than you.” He was astounded, “You can see all that in my eyes?” “Yes, and perhaps even more after we get to know each other better. Come; let us begin your education, follow me.” She moved with such grace and poise, he decided he would follow her, wherever she led. It was into adjoining room of the house. The room seemed to speak of serenity.

There were alcoves, equally spaced along all four walls, each alcove shelving several lit scented candles. Under each alcove were reclining couches, long, low, strewn with plush multi-colored pillows, looking luxurious and comfortable. In the center of the room, there was an oblong table covered with a cushion, clean linens and a pillow. On a smaller adjacent table there was an assortment of vials and jars. “What’s in all those containers,” he asked, pointing to the table? Just some salves and ointments,” she replied, “Now, disrobe completely, cover yourself with a cloth, or not, as you wish. Lie down on the table, on your stomach. I shall return shortly.” Claudius did as she bade and wrapping a towel around his waist, he lay on the table. From his position, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. She had removed the flowing gown she had worn, at their meeting, and had changed into a short sleeveless tunic. Her belted waist was small and her rounded hips flowed into long, slender, wellformed legs. Her hair was gathered by a ribbon and tied back and she was barefoot. “Just relax, close your eyes”, she said. Using a wondrous aromatic mixture of oils and salves, she began to massage his neck and shoulders. She did not speak, just hummed a melody, in time to the motion of her hands. Her hands were surprisingly strong. Claudius could feel the tenseness of his muscles giving way to the pressure of her hands as they traveled slowly methodically down the entire length of his body, including his feet. After a time she said, “Now Claudius, you may roll over onto your back,” which he did. Continuing in the same manner, she began working the muscles of his neck, chest and legs, slowly advancing to his feet, which she then massaged a second time. The whole process took some time. Her considerable strength of hand always the same. He had never before experienced such a sense of well-being. It was as though he were floating above the table. She never once touched his private parts, although when she had massaged his upper thighs, he had hoped she would. “You are a wonder,” he said. “I never knew my body could feel this good.” “There is more,” she said, “Come, bring your towel, I will bathe you.” The bath was quite exquisite. It was round and occupied most of the spacious room it was in. The apron was made of large marble tiles and the walls of the bath were mosaics of creatures of the sea, a veritable work of art. Steps led down into the water, which was about four feet deep. There was also a submerged marble shelf, circling the bath, on either side of the steps, set at such a depth, that the water would be up to one’s neck when in a sitting position. The water was steaming hot and scented. “Step in,” she said, “Oh, and Claudius, don’t forget to remove your towel.” Saying this she quickly did her hair up into a bun, stepped out of her tunic and stood before him completely naked, then lithely stepped down into the water, submerging up to her neck as she did so. Claudius had not moved. He had not exhaled either, after drawing in his breath at the sight of her. She was a sight to behold, as beautiful with clothes as without. She was Venus in human form. As he returned to the moment, he realized he still had the cloth around his waist. Again she said, “Claudius, remove your towel and come in.” As he moved to do so, she stopped him. “Wait,” she said, “Let me look at you.”

She devoured him with her eyes, obviously pleased with what she saw. “You are a magnificent man. Come sit next to me,” motioning to the seat. He entered the water, somewhat self-consciously and sat down next to her on the submerged bench. His nervousness must have been quite obvious. “You have obviously never seen a naked woman before. I must also assume that you have never slept with a woman either. Is that true?” Blushing slightly, Claudius said, “Your assumptions are correct, on both counts Celesta, and I might add, it is somewhat intimidating to have your first experience be with Venus herself.” “What a sweet thing to say,” she replied. As she said this, she gently placed her hand on his thigh and slowly moved it until she was caressing his manhood, which by now was at full erection. His first reaction was to pull away, but her gentleness reassured him and he didn’t move. “Do you like what I am doing,” she said, continuing to caress him. “Yes,” he replied, his breath coming quicker now. “Do you want me to stop,” she asked? “Oh no. I definitely want you to continue.” Moving with a cat-like grace, she straddled him, pressing her naked breasts against his chest and placing one arm around him, she guided him inside her with the other hand. His breath was coming much quicker now, and what he was experiencing with her had to be the ecstasy he had only dreamed of. “Is this position satisfactory to you,” she said. “Oh yes,” was all he could say as waves of pleasure washed over him. She sat this way motionless, for a few seconds and then she began to move, slowly up and down. “I want your first experience to be totally and completely for you, my pleasure will come later.” As he reached his climax, it was as she had said. The pleasure was beyond anything he had ever known. She drew him into her drawing out his pleasure with him experiencing spasm after spasm. Spent, and in a realm of pure ecstasy, he relaxed, clinging to her, enveloped in her and in the warm scented water. Caressing a beautiful woman he had just possessed. What could be more perfect? She had been right, as she would later prove. They made coupled several more times that night. She showing him how to seek and find the erotic zones on a woman’s body. He discovered those zones with delight and sensitivity. So much so, she experienced several climaxes of her own. They even returned to the bath once more, to renew that particular pleasure. As dawn broke, he was instantly awake. He felt more refreshed and renewed than at any time in his young life. Celesta had fallen asleep slightly before dawn and his movements in getting dressed had awakened her. “How do you feel this morning Claudius," she asked, yawning and stretching as she arose from the rumpled bed and put on a robe over her nakedness. “More like a man than at any time in my life,” he replied. “I know you must leave to return to work at the yard, but before you go, I would like to discuss something with you.” “Yes dear woman, and just what might that be,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her full on the lips?

Pulling away from him as she spoke, “I don’t want you falling in love with me. What we experienced last night wasn’t love; it was just a man and a woman satisfying a hunger in each other, nothing more. The woman you come to love someday will give you much more than the passions of the flesh. You do understand what I’m trying to say, don’t you Claudius?” “Yes Celesta, I think I understand what you mean. Don’t worry, I don’t love you but I do like you a lot and I think you are an amazing, passionate woman. I will never forget our time together.” “You do say the nicest things young Claudius.” Hugging her again, he retrieved his cloak from a peg by the door, and blowing her a goodbye kiss, he strode out the door and headed toward the yard, with a noticeable spring in his step. It was promising to be a beautiful day. The sun just up over the horizon revealed a nearly cloudless sky. The sea shimmered gold and reflected that sun while the breeze coming off of it seemed exceptionally refreshing. He experienced a complete sense of well being as he walked through the streets of Brundisium. A smile came to his lips, with the remembrance of the previous night and he knew full well that Celesta was totally responsible for his euphoric mood. By the time he neared the shipyard, the day’s activity, of the city, was in full swing. The shops and taverns were open and catering to the public, in their unlimited needs. The pleasing aromas, emanating from the inns, made him think about stopping for a meal but, just as he had decided against breakfast with Celesta, he dismissed the thought, realizing it would make him late for work. Approaching one of the many crossroads, in the city, which was adorned by a centered fountain, his attention was drawn to a commotion, in front of an inn located at one of the street corners. Four strapping youths were playing some kind of cruel game with an old woman. They appeared to be shoving her back and forth, between them as she struggled to retrieve a small sack that the men were keeping from her. As the sack was tossed to the youth closest to him, Claudius, reached over the youth’s head, and with a lightening quick move, snatched the sack out of mid-air, much to the astonishment of the four, who had not even noticed Claudius’ presence. The deprived youth reached out trying to retrieve the sack but Claudius easily held him off with one hand, and held the sack high with the other. “Now, with her and I against you four, the game is not so one-sided,” Claudius sneered, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “You would do well to mind your own business and leave us to ours,” remarked one of the group. The one who spoke was the largest of the group and the obvious leader. As if a silent command had been given, two of the others reached inside their tunics and produced short wooden clubs, about the thickness of a man’s wrist, which they prominently displayed while moving to Claudius’ left and right in an attempt to encircle him. With the element of surprise on his side, Claudius stepped back and into the man to his immediate right, driving his elbow into the man’s throat, causing the man to drop his club. With no hesitation, Claudius retrieved the dropped weapon, and thrust it into a point just below the breastbone of the man on his left. He also dropped his weapon, as he struggled to catch the breath that had so quickly been driven out of him. Not being

prepared for the level of resistance they were receiving from their new adversary, the two men still standing began backing warily away. Claudius’ sudden lunge in their direction was enough to send the two running, leaving their disabled companions to fend for themselves. Turning to the old woman, huddling in an alcove of the building, Claudius asked, “Are you alright?” Visibly shaken, the old woman managed to nod to signal that she was alright. As Claudius leaned over to help her to her feet, he sensed movement behind him and whirled, club in hand, to confront this new threat. He held his attack when he realized it was only a small boy of perhaps eight or nine years old. The boy took a step backward, holding up his hands, indicating that he was not a threat. “You must both come with me, now,” the boy said, nervously looking around. “Why should we do as you say?” Claudius said, with some amusement. “The men you bested, they will return with others, and they will be armed with swords. They are members of a large gang that control the streets in this part of the city. The soldiers could protect you, but there are no soldiers here now. This gang will come back and kill you and the old woman.” “Why should we trust you?” “You helped me once when you could have punished me and I want to repay your kindness.” As the boy said this, Claudius remembered the young thief he had caught and let go with a sestersius as a gift, several years ago. Realizing the boy was right, Claudius knew that a retreat was indeed the best strategy.” “Then it is decided, we shall place our trust in you. Can you lead us to a place of safety?” At this the old woman approached the boy and whispered something into his ear. The boy nodded to the old woman and said to Claudius, “I know where she wants to go. You will be safe there.” Claudius took the arm of the old woman and the three set off. At first they made slow progress, the woman being old and favoring one leg. With the help of the boy, Claudius fashioned a seat from his cloak, so that the old woman was able to ride astride Claudius’ back. Her weight hardly any burden to the iron hard muscles of Claudius’ back and legs. In this fashion, they were able to make their escape much more rapidly. They traveled in silence. Their refuge was the bowels of the city, the slums, where the poor lived as best they could. With the boy’s obvious knowledge of the city and the old woman’s guidance, they ultimately reached a small house, nestled next to a large multi-storied apartment building, at the very end of a street. “This is where I live, we will be safe here,” the old woman said. As they prepared to enter the boy said, “I will leave you now. The gangs won’t come into this part of the city. No one here has anything worth taking, so they leave them alone. I have repaid my debt to you, now we are even, as we were before we met.” “Tell me your name. I would like to know who it was that rescued the rescuer.” “My name is Septus,” the boy replied, helping Claudius lift the old woman out of the sling, and setting her down at the doorway of her home. As he moved to leave, Claudius reached out and gently grasped the boy by the wrist, placing five sesterces into the boy’s hand as he did so.

“Thank you for helping us, young Septus, may the Gods watch over you.” Looking at Claudius and down at the coins, Claudius again saw the look of gratitude in the boy’s eyes. And in an instant, the boy was gone, as though he had never existed. The hovel Claudius found himself in was actually a quite cozy abode. It had a small hearth and kitchen area an alcove with two bedrooms and a larger central room, with a rough-hewn wooden table surrounded by several backless stools. He could sense the change in mood of the old woman, as they settled into their surroundings. She had visibly relaxed and was now not as fearful as she had been while astride Claudius’ back. “What do call you call yourself,” Claudius asked? “My name is Agathara,” she replied, “And you must be Claudius.” He did not recall having mentioned his name to her. “And how is it that you know my name, mistress Agathara?” “I knew who you were, and when you would come,” she answered. Claudius wondered at this, but not wanting to question her to any further degree, he just nodded and took a more thorough note of where he was. Besides the door wall, there were three walls in the main room, and all were lined, from floor to ceiling, with shelves. The shelves contained hundreds of clay potter’s jars of all shapes and sizes. Some jars had lids, others were stopped with wood or wax and there was a strange form of writing, on each jar, which he assumed was to identify its contents. There were also a large number of bowls and cups and several sets of mixing utensils. “Are you a physician Agathara?” he asked. “You are correct young man, how astute of you to notice. I am not a formally trained physician, but using my potions and salves and my experience, I try to help those that are ill and come to me for assistance. Sometimes I am successful, sometimes not. My clients are not wealthy, but I manage to survive on what barter or small fees they can afford to give me.” “Tell me, what was in the sack the young toughs tried to take from you, back at the fountain?” “Oh, that sack contained my most treasured possessions. Those young idiots thought it contained gold, that’s why they were after it, but it contains something much more valuable than that. Here, I will show you.” Retrieving the sack from somewhere under her garments, she opened the drawstrings and reaching down inside, brought out a handful of old bones. “These allow me to see into the future,” she said, in a very matter of fact way. “Was it the bones that told you who I was and when I would come?” “Yes, it was the bones that spoke to me of you. Come, let us sit, I will brew tea, and we can get acquainted.” The tea was wonderful. Claudius thought he could identify some of the tastes, in the blend, but others were unique to his palate. It relaxed them both. They settled in at the wooden table and after a while, were as comfortable, with one another, as old friends would be. They talked far into the night, each of them having no idea of the passage of time. The old woman fascinated him. He had never met anyone like her. Her perception of him, his personality, and the meaning of life seemed to fill a void in him that had long been empty. Her ability to see into the future became immediately apparent and her matter-offact way of sharing this information was as natural as could be. Yet, their talk was not all

about him. It was also about her and some of the events in her life. She had had, and was living, a very full life. Each of her stories led to questions and in answering those questions, she gave rise to another story, each more fascinating than the last. She had known of her clairvoyant ability as a young child, perhaps when the age of reason dawned in her young mind. Her ability to see the future had begun as a curse, then turned into a blessing, and as she grew older, again, became a curse. She had learned to conceal her gift and be anonymous in an effort to have a semblance of normalcy in her life. “You seem to trust me, with the knowledge”, Claudius remarked, at one point. “Yes,” she said, “That is the key, trust. I know that you would tell no one about me unless I wished it. I see this in your heart.” “Yes, I would carry your secret to the grave, if need be.” She continued on with her story; in an effort to elude their notoriety, she and her father had lived in many different places. In each new town, she had made it a point to seek out the local healer. She would them befriend them, in effect, become their apprentice. She also gave a great deal of attention to the potions created by her teachers. Each teacher had his collection of favorite remedies. In time she learned which ones were effective, and those she remembered. On many an occasion, she became the teacher. Her innate ability would give her an uncanny perception of the patient’s problem and the most effective solution to it. Her teachers, often amazed by her knowledge and grasp of the situation, began to seek out her advice, where they themselves were stymied. As her confidence grew, and her number of successful cures increased, she realized that, indeed, she was a gifted healer in her own right. She did not deal with injuries to the body. She also did not deliver babies. She only dealt with illnesses caused by unknown forces that raged inside the human body. She called them the diseases of the “Furies”. She offered her skills only to the poor, the down trodden, the hopeless ones. Her pay was, a chicken for her pot, a basket of beans, oil for her lamp, and wood for her fire and so on. This allowed her to live in such a way that her basic needs were met. Sometimes, she performed her service for no compensation. Sometimes, when a person was not to her liking, she would refuse the service altogether. “Agathara, may I call you Aggie,” he asked? She looked at him and he could sense a sudden sadness come over her. A single tear formed at the corner of her eye. Claudius immediately apologized profusely for having offended her with his request. “No, no, its alright, you haven’t offended me, its just that my father used to call me by that name and hearing it brought back many wonderful memories of him and us together. He died some time ago. As you can tell, I also have the very normal ability to remember the past. I would be delighted if you called me Aggie.” Noticing the sky beginning to lighten, Claudius arose from the table, stretched luxuriously and said, “We have talked for many hours and drank a lot of tea. It only seems like a moment has passed, but I really must be returning to the shipyard. I am overdue and my companion Rufus will be wondering what happened to me.” “Yes, even as we speak I sense that your friend and others search the streets for you, but wait, before you go, I have a gift for you.” Hobbling over to her sleeping area,

Claudius could see her retrieving something from a small wooden chest. She hobbled back to him clutching an object wrapped in an oily animal skin and presented it to him. “Take this, do not open it now, but wait until you are alone. Do not show it to anyone and when you return, we will speak of it again. I will tell you its’ story.” “You must want me to come back?” “Oh yes my son, I do want you to come, as often as you like. We are a very important part of each other’s destinies now. Go now and return soon, my young savior.” Blushing slightly, he bent down, hugged the old woman, and looking deeply into her eyes and said, “I have no doubt you are an important part of the puzzle of my life Aggie and I already love you dearly. I feel as though I have known you all my life.” With this, he gathered up his cloak, and the bundle she had given him, and set off to return to the shipyard. As Claudius walked through the shipyard gate, he chanced to meet Rufus and several other men, who had obviously just returned from looking for him. Approaching him hands-on hips, Rufus said, “And look who we have here lads, it’s our long lost brother. He must have blown in, like a leaf on a sea breeze. Perhaps he will tell us where he has been, now that we have scoured the entire city trying to find him.” Sheepishly, Claudius related the story of his adventure, concerning the old woman and the boy, omitting no detail. The plausibility of the story seemed to satisfy the group, as justification for his actions, and having heard the tale, the group laughingly disbanded leaving Claudius alone with Rufus. “It is a tale to be sure, and it looks like the woman even gave you something to remember her by. What is it Claudius?” “I haven’t opened it yet, so I’m not sure what it is, but right now I think we should be getting to our work stations or Galbus and Faberius will have our hides. I will open the package later to see what the old woman has given me.” Having not worked in more than two days, Claudius stayed extraordinarily busy in trying to catch up with his workload. The gift from Agathara lay unopened for many hours until long after dark. He finally decided on the futility of trying to complete his work all in one shift. He needed rest and refreshment. Gathering up his belongings, and the package, he retired to his quarters over the sail loft. After arriving there, and eating a cold meal, that was left for him by Alletes, he decided to inspect the mysterious gift Aggie had given him. As he carefully undid the wrapping he sensed what it was before he actually saw it. The sight of it took his breath away. It was a sword, made in the fashion of a typical, two edged, Roman short sword, carried by the legions; but the workmanship, in evidence, was anything but typical. It was a work of the most exquisite art. It was razor sharp. The hilt was engraved with the faces of a male and a female, observing some sort of celestial event. The blade was inscribed with a three-word phrase, but the writing was not Latin or Greek, so its meaning was not readily apparent to him. Claudius knew he was no judge of weapons but the feeling, as he held the weapon in his hand, was of something with perfect balance, making it seem almost weightless. What he did know was that this was a one of a kind treasure and would become a target for every thief in Brundisium, if he ever revealed its existence to anyone. He decided, for now, to keep its existence secret even from Rufus. Carefully re-wrapping the sword, he concealed it in a flat spot, where the walls of the room met the ceiling rafters. It could easily be retrieved,

but was not visible from floor level, or even to someone standing on a ladder. He knew his next visit to Aggie would be taking place soon, not only to thank her for the gift but also to hear the story behind its creation. Early the next day, he made a stop at ground level of his living quarters to see a worker there named Diutus. After greeting his friend he reached inside his tunic and produced a sketch he had made before going to sleep on the previous night. Showing his friend the sketch he asked “What do you think Diutus, could you make something like this, without too much difficulty?” Turning the sketch side ways then around, then giving a few grunts, Diutus replied, “Yes, it would be no trouble to make this, but what in the world is it Claudius, I can’t imagine what you can use it for.” “It’s just a gift for someone very special,” was all that Claudius would reveal about the object’s use. “Very well then, come back the day before the next market interval and it will be ready for you to present your gift to this very special person, whoever they may be.” “Excellent, that will suit my purpose well, and thanks Diutus, I knew I could count on you.” “I will be sure to call you when next I need a favor “, Diutus said, as Claudius left to begin his shift. Claudius picked up the completed gift, at the appointed time, thanked his friend profusely, and could hardly sleep that night, in anticipation of its presentation. The following day of rest, at first light, he made his way to the house of Agathara, carrying a large, carefully wrapped package. He gently tapped on the door and waited for the old woman to respond. In a few moments he heard her shuffle over to the door and say, “You may come in Claudius, the latch is unlocked.” Hurrying inside, he laid his package on her table. “I have brought you a gift Aggie. It is an unusual gift, I hope you like it.” As he was about to unwrap the gift, a dawning light suddenly occurred too him and he looked at the old woman saying, “But of course, you knew when I was coming and what the gift would be, didn’t you?” “Yes,” she said, with a smile, “But I couldn’t spoil your pleasure in presenting it, now could I?” He chuckled and said, “I forgot, I never will be able to surprise you, will I?” “No”, she said,” you probably never will!” They both laughed now, realizing the humor in the situation. The gift was a flexible leather seat, with shoulder straps, which would allow Agathara to sit while comfortably riding on Claudius’ back. He only needed to assist her into it, then slip the straps over his shoulders and they could easily go anywhere within a walking distance. “Come on Aggie, I have made preparations for us to go on an outing.” Again catching himself in the error, he re-stated his invitation, to honor her clairvoyant ability. “Is now a convenient time for you to go with me”? “Yes,” she replied, “I would love to go sailing with you. It has been many years since I was last on a boat. It will be a wonderful adventure and a welcome change from my usual routine. Allow me a few moments to prepare and then we can try out my new method of travel.”

We will call it ‘Aggie’s Chair,’” he said, and they both laughed over the gift once more. Carrying her on his back, Claudius made his way to the pier where his sailboat was secured. It was a glorious day with a cloudless blue sky and a brisk breeze. Claudius knew the Gods had smiled on them. The conditions were ideal for their outing. They received many a curious stare and much laughter, with finger pointing, on the way to the boat, but due to their lively conversation, neither of them gave any notice. They just enjoyed each other’s company. Claudius sat the old woman on a mooring post and slipped out of the shoulder harness. He got her settled, on a seat in the stern of his little sailboat, and with a well practiced hand, oared the boat out into the harbor, made sail and got underway. The boat skipped along powered by a nice gentle breeze. When they cleared the breakwater to the open sea, the wind was stronger. The little boat sprang forward as if pushed by a giant hand. Agathara laughed and made tiny screeching noises, giving voice to her enjoyment. “I have not had this much excitement since I was a girl!” she exclaimed. Smiling, Claudius shouted to be heard above the wind, “I am glad old one. I knew you would enjoy this and even feel as carefree as I do, when I am sailing.” “Ah yes, carefree is the perfect word to describe the way I feel right now.” Their destination was a small cove Claudius had discovered, during one of his numerous forays upon the sea. The cove inlet was actually a small river and curved back on itself. Getting to the cove itself required some skill and seamanship and only a very determined sailor would have actually reached it. After sailing a considerable distance, the inlet widened and gave access to the most beautiful river fed lake. The hills surrounding the lake, although not very high, were enough to shelter it from the wind, so that once inside, the water calmed to an almost glass-like surface. The sole rock outcropping, on the eastern slope of the hills, was actually a launching site for a spring. As the water cascaded over the cliff face, it created a lovely waterfall, which was the only disturbance to the calm surface of the water. At this season, the hills were covered by wild flowers; their scent filled the air. The two just stared, in awe at the beauty that surrounded them. “What a lovely spot Claudius, how did you ever find it?” “Just through exploring. I come here to think and relax. Its peacefulness renews me. “I am thinking that this would be a wonderful place to bring a lover, if you had a lover, don’t you think, Claudius?” “I do not have a lover at this point in my life; but of course you already knew that.” “Yes but you are young, there is plenty of time for these things.” They had made little headway after entering the cove. Claudius dropped the sail and drifted using a sea anchor. He rigged a canvas to give Aggie shade and set out a light meal Alletes had prepared for them. “The sea air gives one an appetite, does it not?” he said. After they had eaten, and were enjoying a cup of chilled wine, Claudius took the old woman’s hands in his, looked into her eyes and said, “I want to thank you for the beautiful gift you gave me Aggie. It is an amazing, priceless treasure. You know of the

promise my friend Rufus made, about teaching me the ways of a gladiator?” A slight nod acknowledged a yes answer to his question. “I was also wondering about the words etched into the blade. Do you know their meaning?” “Ah yes, the inscription, I do know what it means. My father pondered the words for many days before he actually etched the words into the metal. The words mean Death, Life, Peace’.” “Do you know what he meant by the words?” Claudius asked. “My father was a wonderful man Claudius. He believed that a man determines his own destiny, and the words would not mean the same for every man. I know what they meant for him and I also know what they will mean for you, but I cannot tell you now. This you must discover for yourself. All I will say is this. You will know, when the meaning of the words becomes clear.” “I notice that you do not reveal future events to me, and I assume you do not reveal them to others. Am I correct in that assumption?” “Yes,” she said. “Revealing what the future holds, for someone, can only be an inheritance of misfortune.” “But why,” he asked? “Most people, knowing their fate, would try to live their life to accommodate that fate. In other words, they would consciously try to manipulate their own destiny, to serve their own desires, instead of just letting it happen, as the Gods willed it. You can see how this manipulation would cause havoc in the world. Death is another issue. No one really wants to know when, and how, they are going to die. “Of those people you try to help, do you know which ones will live and which will die?” “Yes, I know, but even if they are going to die, I try to help them anyway. I give them a vestige of hope, which is not such a bad thing, is it?” “Yes Aggie, I see. Sometimes hope may be all one has left to cling to.” Again, they talked with no thought to the passage of time until Agathara noticed the sun riding quite low over the horizon. “We should be getting back,” she said. Claudius apologized for keeping her so long and quickly brought in the sea anchor and raised the sail and made a heading for home. The sun was about to dip completely below the horizon as he secured the little boat to her berth and helped Aggie settle into her seat. In a short time, he was depositing her on the doorstep of her house. “Can we keep ‘Aggie’s Chair’ here, until next time?” he asked. “Of course we can Claudius. It will be the talk of the neighborhood tomorrow, but soon it will be as if it always was, and no one will see it as unusual anymore.” He walked her to her door and said, “Today has been a memorable occasion Aggie, we should do this again soon”. As he bent to give her an embrace, she reached up and pulled him to her, planting an affectionate kiss on his cheek. “You have made an old woman very happy today my son,” she said. “It is I who should be thanking you. I never tire of your wit and wisdom and many days like today will be forthcoming, I promise.” A nod and a smile was her only response.

As he departed, he smiled and said to her, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Stay well my mother, I will be back as soon as I can.â&#x20AC;? He did not see the tear that rolled down her cheek as she stepped inside the hut and bolted the door.

Chapter III Agathara A foggy awareness, of the power of the great gift, came when she was only nine years old. She foresaw the saddest event in her young life, when she knew her mother was going to go away, forever. She would awake in the middle of the night, cold, shivering, fearful of an event so terrible, she could not speak of it. In the daytime, her mother seemed to be fine, but when her mother had the coughing fits, and specks of blood appeared in the cloth she held to her mouth, the girl knew the evil lurked just beyond her consciousness. Her mother tried to hide the sickness from both her and her father, but the little girl knew the seriousness of the affliction, without the words being spoken. One morning, her mother was not at her usual place by the hearth, preparing breakfast. Tiptoeing silently to her parent’s room she peered in and saw her father seated on the edge of the bed, holding her mother’s limp hand, softly crying. He took the child into his arms, and gently stroking her hair, he explained to her how sick her mother had been. “She is at peace with the Gods now, Aggie. She has been borne up by the spirits. They will bring her to a place of beauty and peacefulness. There she will wait for me and for you, so that some day, we can join her.” The visions of future events frightened the little girl, yet thrilled her at the same time. She was not fully aware of the power of the gift, until the night of the fire in the sky. Up until that momentous event she would innocently divulge, that which she saw, to her friends in the village. At first it only seemed a coincidence for her to notice events before they occurred but it happened so frequently, that after a while even her young friends knew it was beyond coincidence. One evening, at sunset, she left her house, threaded her way through a grove of cypress trees and chose a spot on a large flat rock not far from the house. She noticed the rock was situated at the edge of a vast meadow. This will be a suitable place to watch, she thought, and she sat down to wait. The meadow lay in a valley surrounded by high mountains. The landscape resembled a gigantic bowl; the mountains the jagged rim of the bowl, the valley floor as its bottom. She could hear her father calling for her, his shouts becoming ever louder, as he got closer, but she did not answer him. “Aggie, Aggie, where are you?” She just hugged her knees and said to herself, over and over, soon, it will come soon. The rock was warm from the late afternoon sun. She felt very snug and cozy on her perch. She had almost dozed off, as the sun began to sink beyond the ridgeline when suddenly her sixth sense alerted her to what was coming. She heard it well before she saw it. A roaring sound, unlike anything she had ever heard before. She looked to her right and just waited. When she saw the cause of the roar, it took her breath away. It was a light, as bright as the sun, hurtling directly at her. She sat frozen in fear and wonder. The flaming bolt drew nearer and nearer. Her father had stumbled across her rock in the dark, but before he could scold her, for not responding to his call, the roaring noise

and the light eclipsed his anger. He couldn’t help but look up. He had to shield his eyes to keep from being blinded. The fireball came to earth at a shallow angle, streaking across the sky, at an immeasurable speed. As it struck the earth, a good distance in front of them, it skidded across the vast meadow like a flaming stone skipping across a pond. The man and girl could feel the intense heat from the object as it passed before them, plowing a deep furrow into the earth, while spewing a shower of fiery sparks and dust into the air. She knew they were never in any danger, but their view of the event was spectacular and they missed no detail of the impact. “Did you see Aggie, did you see, the sign from the Gods!” her father exclaimed. “I knew it was coming,” she said, in a small voice. Her father stared at her, incredulously. “What, what, but how, how could you know of it? Never mind that now, come let’s go see what it is.” When they approached the spot where the object had come to rest they could not get very close. The intense heat emanating from the object prevented them from approaching it. They could its shape and size. They thought it resembled a large water jar, defined by a reddish, yellow glow, but any detail was lost in the darkness and distance. Not speaking, they both stared in wonder, for a long time, until her father said, “Come Aggie, its getting late, let’s go back to the house. We can come back in the morning to see if it has cooled enough to get a closer look.” The two did return the next day, but the object was still too hot to approach it safely. It took five days before they could even get close to the object, and another three before her father could actually touch it. Some of the villagers, who had also witnessed the fire from the sky, had also been occasionally visiting the crash site. All the spectators were reluctant to get close to the object, let alone touch it; they just looked at it and wondered. They feared it as an evil omen, a portent of some cataclysmic event about to happen. A few even begged her father not to touch it, “Balbar, please, just bury it and leave it alone,” they said; but her father was fascinated beyond any reasoning. He had to know what it was and what it was made of, and spent much of his time just studying it. He caused quite a stir among the villagers, when he eventually decided to take it back to his workshop. Fearfully he dug it out of the dirt. He gently rolled the still warm object onto a blanket, hoisted it up, with some difficulty, for it was quite heavy, and placed it on a small wagon, pulled by a donkey. He was excited, anxious to transport it to his workshop. Balbar, the father of Agathara, was an ironsmith, by trade, and a good one. He was skilled in working metal and took great pride in the intricate things he could make. He had apprenticed under Kiloptes a master maker of weapons for the armies of the great Tigranes of Ecbatana and Mithradates king of the Parthians until; the Romans had conquered these two great warrior kings. Balbar had learned his craft well. He could fashion any type of weapon, and was especially adept at making swords. Now, here in this small village, he provided a good living for his family producing simple things made of iron; household items, handy to have around, and easily affordable by the local villagers. Hinges, horseshoes, nails and other bits of hardware. On occasion he would receive a commission, from a wealthier patron, to construct something more elaborate such as a gate, window grille, or something

for the hearth. These items, although intricate and sometimes challenging, didn’t interest him much, yet his customers were always happy with the end result and all together, his efforts produced a good income, allowing the family to live very comfortably. Now, with this Godly bolt from the heavens, it was for him, it was a dream come true. The boredom of before was totally forgotten, now that he had this unknown thing, this piece of the heavens to work with. What great and wondrous thing could he make with such a gift? While waiting for the object to cool, Agathara and Balbar had delved deeper into what this omen might mean. It was in these discussions that she told him of her power to see what was about to happen. “Sometimes I don’t know what will actually happen Papa, it is not always clear to me. Other times I see what will happen very clearly. When the fire from the sky came, I only knew it would be a memorable event, I did not know what it would actually be. When Mama died, it was very clear. I saw her going away Papa, long before she actually did.” “Why did you never speak to me or to your mother, of these visions?” “When they first occurred I thought everyone had them. Then later, I was told by my friends that I had a very special ability no one else had. When Mama died, I knew I was the only one who knew. He hugged her to him then, for they were still grieving. “My poor child, this is a great burden for such a little girl to carry.” Holding her gently by the shoulders, he looked deep into her eyes. “From now on you will not carry this burden alone. I will help you as much as I can. You must tell me whenever you see things that are about to happen, we will discuss them and face them together, whatever they are. It is also important to remember, not everyone will see this knowledge of yours as a gift. We must be very cautious who we share this information with, my daughter. You must come to me first, then we can decide what to say and what not to say. Do you understand my concern Aggie?” Nodding her head ever so slightly she said, “Yes papa, I do understand.” Being a curious sort, and eager to apply his skill, Balbar couldn’t wait to start working with the object from the sky. He fired his forge, and started to work with it. He discovered that it was mostly metal. He had little difficulty chipping away the outer crust, as this was only dirt and rock. Once he had done that, he was left with a very rough, irregular piece of metal. Try though he may, he could only knock off small bits, with a hammer and chisel and he eventually ended up with something so hard he could not remove any more material, no matter how hot he got the ingot or how hard he worked its surface. He tried every method he could think of. He labored over the forge and even made a larger bellows, to create a greater heat. He could not get the metal hot enough to form it. The metal was just too hard. Many years before, Balbar recalled he had journeyed to the city of Thessalonica. He had gone there to buy a larger anvil. After arriving and scouring the city, he finally found exactly what he had been looking for. It was the perfect size and weight and after haggling a bit over the price, he loaded his purchase on a pack animal, he had brought for the purpose, and set out for home. On the third day, of his return journey, he had stopped for the night and made a fire. While thinking about home, and longing to see his family, he inadvertently threw a shiny black pebble; he had been handling, into the fire. To his amazement, the pebble began to burn with a bright red glow. Looking around he found another larger, similar

one, and threw that into the fire as well. This also began to burn and glow red. His knowledge of the forge told him the bits of black rock were burning with a greater intensity of heat than the embers of the firewood. The next morning, re-loading the pack animal with his new anvil, he discarded the rocks he had used to originally balance the load, and replaced the ballast with the newly discovered black rocks. He had no difficulty finding more. Upon arriving home, he unloaded rested for a while, then began to experiment with his newfound treasure. He fired his forge and after getting it good and hot, mixed some of the black rocks into the charcoal fire. Applying a vigorous bellows to the burning mix, he was able to produce a white-hot heat. From the feel of it, he knew this was the fire he needed, for it was the hottest fire he had ever produced. He found he was able to work any piece of metal with a much greater ease. Eventually, over time the black rocks ran out, and because all his work could be performed using regular charcoal, he didn’t bother to make the long journey back to gather more black rocks, and as time passed, the memory of the rocks that burned faded from his mind. With his new challenge still unworkable, he remembered the black rocks from long ago, he thought they could be exactly what he needed to work this strange metal from the sky. At first light, the next morning, he roused Aggie and with much excitement in his voice said, “Come we will go on a little traveling adventure. We will go into the hills where I need to gather some rocks. You can go with me and we will sleep outside and light a fire and camp out for a few days. Would you like that Aggie?” “Oh yes Papa”. She said excitedly, “You know I love to sit by a fire and look up at the stars, and sleep outside under warm furs. It will be such fun.” They outfitted three pack animals with cargo harnesses, sacks and digging tools, and what supplies they needed, and set off for the hills far to the north. After a three-day journey they stopped at a spot about where Balbar thought, he had first found the black rocks. They set up their camp then used the remaining daylight to range over a large area, scouring the ground. They had no success on the first day. That night, at the fire, Balbar said, “Aggie, we could look for a long time and never find the rocks I am looking for. Do you think you could see, a picture in your mind, where the rocks might be?” He then told her the story of how he had discovered the black rocks long ago and how he needed them to even attempt to work the mystical piece of metal. “I don’t know papa, maybe if you could think about how they look, I might be able to see something.” She tried but she could not see any sort of vision telling her where the rocks might be. “It’s getting late Aggie. Let’s sleep on it and try our little game again in the morning.” The day dawned clear and sunny. Balbar awoke, silently thanked the Gods for the good weather and soon had a fire going to prepare breakfast. As they were finishing their morning meal, she turned to her father, with her eyes closed, saying, “I see them Papa; I see the black rocks.” He jumped up spilling his bowl of fruit and bread, and went to her excited. “Aggie, may the Gods bless you child, where, where are they?”

“Come I’ll show you. It’s not far.” They came over a small hill, “There,” she said pointing at a dark rocky spot on the ground. The memory instantly returned to him, in all its detail. He knew, indeed, this was the place. Balbar hugged his daughter. You are a wonder Aggie; you do have a great gift.” It took several hours of hard work to load the pack animals with as many rocks as they could carry. The rocks were available in all sizes and he had little trouble breaking them into smaller pieces so they could be packed in more densely. The pack animals were not large so he distributed the weight as best he could, knowing that the animals would have to be rested more often. He was correct in his assumption; the animals struggled with their heavy loads. He let the animals graze longer than usual and stopped for the night much earlier than he ordinarily would have. The return journey took twice as long as the journey coming, but at last they were home, and unloaded, with the black rocks making a considerable pile next to the forge. He paused briefly, to tend to his bodily needs, and began his work. First, he got a charcoal fire going, and began adding the black rocks. Working the bellows vigorously, he soon had a white-hot fire. He plunged the special metal, into the center of the fire and began the endless process of heating and shaping, that an ironsmith knows so well. At first there was no visible change in the shape but slowly, as the center of the metal mass reached the temperature of the fire, he found he was able to start to mold the metal into the rough shape he desired. At first, after hours of hammering and reheating, he roughly formed what would be the pommel, then did the same for the hilt and hand guard, then ever so slowly, with many reheats, he was able to work the remaining mass of metal down into the rough shape of a sword blade. His labor inspired him. He knew nothing of the passage of time or of any level of fatigue. The knotty muscles of a man used to working a hammer and anvil, for most of his life, supported him now in his hour of need. The fire was at its hottest and still, the metal was difficult to work. He added more black rocks. Occasionally he would hold up the blade to inspect his work. Satisfied that the shape was progressing, as he liked, he continued on. The sun rose and set and rose again and still his hammer rang on the steel anvil. He worked with a passion and expertise he had never felt before. It was a labor of love, for an artist at his craft. On the third day the hammer stopped ringing, the flue for the forge stopped smoking. Aggie suddenly noticed the eerie silence, but still her father remained in his workshop, pausing from his task only out of necessity. At dusk on the third day, as Aggie sat at the table, a bedraggled, unkempt, unshaven, covered with soot, man, who appeared to be her father, walked into the kitchen, holding a gleaming beautifully fashioned Roman short sword. “Here Aggie, it is a gift for you. I fashioned it from the flaming ingot that fell from the heavens. What do you think of it?” “Oh Papa, it’s, it’s a thing of beauty. She took it, held it by the hilt and slowly turned it to catch a ray of candle light, “Oh it is so shiny and light in weight, and I can hold it easily. Why is that so, why isn’t it heavy,” she asked? “I don’t really know. It is in the make-up of the metal. It’s very strong but also very light in weight, the perfect metal for a sword. A swordsman could wield this weapon all day and never tire. It is like no other metal I ever worked with. It is like no metal on

earth. It was truly sent to me by the Gods. Do not speak to anyone about the sword Aggie. The people already fear the object from the sky.” “But papa, the whole village knows you brought the thing into your workshop. I’m sure someone will eventually ask of it, what shall I say?” “Just say that it turned out to be nothing more than a rock so now my father uses it as a doorstop. I am beyond tired Aggie. I think I will sleep for a while.” He did indeed sleep. He slept for two days. As time passed Agathara grew and so did her reputation. She was now twelve years old. Her fame had spread and had taken on a life of its own. People rich and poor, old and young, came from great distances to consult her about future events. Her father did not discourage this traffic for, at first, it seemed harmless. The added revenue from small offerings lifted their financial burden, and made it even easier to allow the everincreasing traffic. People would wait for days just for the opportunity to speak with her. Often as not, she had little to tell them and she would apologize for her lack of knowledge. On rare occasions she would actually see, or better yet, sense, an event and always she would have that person return the next day for the final prediction. That night she would share what she had seen with her father and they would decide how much information for her to pass along. If the events were dire she would say she had been mistaken and seen nothing of importance. When the prediction was favorable she would say so and share in the joy of the occasion. Once, when conferring with her father, about a vision she had seen, she asked him, “Papa, do you think knowing your future might cause you to live differently, trying to fulfill prophecy or even change it?” “That is a very interesting question Aggie. I suppose one just might try to do that. Of course, if one did, they might not like the way the outcome.” “I hope my predictions don’t cause that to happen. Perhaps the future shouldn’t be known. It should stay there, in the future, undisturbed.” In time, Balbar’s ironwork business began to suffer. All the visitors brought him no extra work. The fortune seeking traffic only interfered with what little work came his way. It wasn’t long before that business slowly tailed off and stopped altogether. The hands of a master craftsman must stay busy and the lack of any type of ironwork caused Balbar to feel an increasing level of frustration. One night he decided, I will go into the village and seek out some of my old customers. I will buy them a cup of wine and assure them that, I Balbar, can again be of service to them. They will welcome me back and I will be as sought after as I was before, he mused. Washing himself and donning a clean tunic, he set out for the village. He was not as well received as he had hoped. His former customers were reluctant to drink with him, and after each of their rejections, he drank another cup of wine. It wasn’t long before he became quite drunk, and as Balbar was wont to do, became loud and boisterous. He awoke, the following morning knowing he would have to silence whoever was beating so loudly on that drum. When suddenly, he realized, the drum was inside his head. He tried to open his eyes but the bright sun seemed to plunge a dagger into his brain. He closed his eyes and turned away from the sun, and slowly opened them again.

He recognized the gate to the pen, where they kept a few animals so he at least knew that he had made it home. How he actually got there, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall of the house, he had no idea. His wine soaked brain began to slowly return to normal and he staggered into the house. Aggie was not yet awake. He was glad. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He lit a fire and began brewing a cup of tea. After he drank the tea, he began to feel a little better. He prepared breakfast for Aggie and himself. When it was finished, he went in to awaken her. To his surprise, she was not in her bed. He looked out and saw her sitting under a nearby tree. Her arms were hugging her knees and she had a far-away look in her eyes. He called to her announcing that breakfast was ready. Slowly rising, she shuffled into the house and sat down at the table. “Aggie how long have you been out there? Do you feel all right, is something wrong?” “We will have to leave,” she said. “The whole village will be here soon, and they want us to leave.” “How do you know this?” he asked. “I saw it in my dream. They know about the sword Papa; they are afraid and they want us to leave.” Almost before the words were out of her mouth he heard loud voices outside and realized a large crowd was gathering in front of the house. He now suspected that his previous night’s activity must have loosened his tongue. He was quite certain Aggie hadn’t said anything, so in his drunkenness, he had probably divulged their secret and now, as he had once predicted, the village was frightened of that which they didn’t understand and wanted it removed from their midst. Standing in the doorway to face the crowd he declared to them, “I know why all of you are here!” As he spoke, a hush fell over the crowd. They waited anxiously to hear what he was going to say. “I just want to say, there is nothing for you to fear. Yes I fashioned a sword from the object that fell from the sky, but after all, it is only a piece of metal. It has brought no ill fortune upon our village no bad omens have been foretold. Tell them Aggie, do you see any catastrophes about to occur?” Aggie did not answer but only shook her head no. “There, you see, we are not cursed, and one who would know affirms this,” he said, pointing to the girl. He saw a few heads nodding in agreement and then Talapas, the unofficial leader of the village spoke. “We hear what you say Balbar and you are right, there is no curse now, but rumors will grow and spread and people, out of fear, will shun our village. Trade will dry up, the shops will have to close and surely some band of warriors will want that mystical sword of yours and who will protect our little village from these predators? The armies of Tigranes and Mithradates are long gone, and the Romans care little for one small village. We would be at the mercy of any of these brigands.” These statements caused a murmur of agreement to ripple through the crowd. “We can keep the secret,” Balbar pleaded. “If it never travels beyond our village, we have nothing to fear.” “Could we keep the secret as well as you did,” remarked Talapas, with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice? Looking at Aggie, Balbar could see she was crying. In his heart he knew Talapas was right. The secret would leak out and what Talapas had predicted, could indeed come true.

“Very well then,” he said, with a great sadness in his voice, “Aggie and I will leave as soon as we can and the village will be as it was.” Talapas spoke once more, “We do not want to do this Balbar, but I think you know that it is best. You have until noon tomorrow and then you must leave.” Balbar, head low, just nodded in agreement. Some of the women were crying. Aggie’s young friends just held their mother’s hands, not knowing what to say to her and certainly not understanding why their friend had to leave. Some of their closest neighbors came over to bid them farewell and offer their encouragement and best wishes, but most of the villagers just shuffled off, not knowing what to say and in their ignorance, not saying anything. After everyone had left Balbar went to his daughter and hugged her. “I am so sorry for revealing our secret and causing this to happen Aggie. I know you were happy here and I know it will be difficult for you to leave our home. I promise you that we will find a new home. A new place where we are cared for and respected, I promise.” Looking up at him, with a little smile, she asked, “How far will we have to go papa, how far before we find a place where we are respected?” “I don’t know Aggie. We will just travel until my heart tells us that we are in safe and friendly place.” The next day, they gathered together all their belongings and loaded them onto three donkeys. The animals they had to leave, a few goats and some chickens, they distributed among their nearest neighbors. They bid their farewells and with one last look at their home, they set out in search of a new one. A short distance down the road they again encountered Talapas. He gave them a wave and approached for he obviously wanted to converse with them.” We are not ignorant of your plight Balbar and we also are not heartless. Everyone in the village contributed something for the two of you, and although it is not equal to what you have given up, it will carry you until you can settle in a new place. We wish you the very best.” Handing a small sack to Balbar, he took his other hand, pressed it, gave Aggie a pat on the head, then turned and strode away, back toward the village. They headed due west toward the setting sun and after two days travel turned abruptly south. He wanted to avoid any large city, for fear that their notoriety might precede them. It was a small city he sought. Some place where they would not stand out as strangers, but could melt into the local population. He thought that a small city would offer this and it would also offer more employment opportunities. The money they had would not last very long. They journeyed to a place called Mrytor. It was exactly what Balbar had envisioned. Many people but not overcrowded. He found work, at a local iron shop and Agathara also quickly attached herself to the local physician. Her skills as a healer blossomed working with Putones, the physician He considered himself fortunate to have found someone with her knowledge and ability. Their financial needs met, the two settled in to embrace their new home and their new life. Three years passed. Agathara was now sixteen and growing to be a beautiful young woman. Balbar saw the local young men eyeing her and she had no lack of attention.

It was early spring. The smell of the earth and growing things was strong and everywhere the winter drab was being replaced with fresh green shoots of growth and good weather Agathara and Balbar had decided to go to a local festival in honor of Hermes, the god of trade. A section of the city usually reserved for athletic contests, was set aside and vendors were allowed to pitch tents, along carefully marked lanes. Some of the vendors had come from many miles away to sell their wares. The rich variety of goods for sale brought buyers from great distances. They were well aware that this would be their once a year opportunity to purchase such a large variety of goods. There were brightly colored fabrics from Pergamum, carved ivory from Corinth, gold and silver jewelry from Dalmatia. It seemed every other tent was dispensing food and the delicious and unfamiliar aromas couldn’t help but give one an appetite. There were acrobats; musicians, jugglers and magicians, all in a large roped off area, with all the activities occurring at once. It was an exciting jumble of sight and sound. Aggie was awestruck. She had never seen anything like this before. At that instant, her longing for the home, they had been driven from, left her forever. “Oh papa, this is so enjoyable. I wish they had festivals like this all of the time. I wish it would go on forever.” It made him happy to see her happy, the two of them strolling through the village of tents. Passing one particular tent, Aggie suddenly stopped in her tracks. “Papa, wait, we must go into this tent.” Before he could answer Aggie disappeared inside. Following her inside, he was amazed at what he saw. It was larger than any of the neighboring tents and inside were row upon row of neatly stacked shelves, each shelf containing numerous small bowls. Every bowl was made of clay pottery and had a lid made of the same material. Each bowl was neatly labeled with what it contained. “Papa, look at the selection of herbs and medicines,” she said excitedly. “Many come from far away lands and are unavailable locally. Putones has said that he looks forward to this festival as a rare opportunity for him to replenish his supplies. The vendor of these medicines comes only every fifth year. I want to start my own collection of remedies. Will you buy them for me?” As she said this, the shopkeeper approached them. His appearance was so unusual Balbar took a step backward when the old man came over to them. Old was an understatement, ancient would have been more appropriate. His skin had a yellowish tinge and the skin on the backs of his hands was like a dried parchment. His long beard began under his nose and hung to his waist, it was wispy and as white as snow. He wore a small black skullcap and his over-garment fell all the way to the floor, its large long sleeves dwarfing his small delicate hands. “I beg your pardon, the man you just spoke of, Putones, he’s an old friend of mine. He was here a short time ago. He was as excited as a child that has discovered a treasure trove of confections. He took a sample of many of my remedies. I have only been here three times before, so, lets see, ah yes that is fifteen years. “Oh sir, I must have a bit of the same things he took. Can you remember which ones they were?” “Certainly young lady, I remember them perfectly.”

“May I inquire what all this might cost,” asked Balbar? “Two denarius will be ample to pay for what the young lady requires. Do you wish me to begin gathering your order?” “Yes sir, please do. It sounds like a reasonable sum,” Balbar said. “Oh papa, thank you for this gift. It is so exciting to have my own collection of remedies.” It took the old man some time to carefully select, wrap and label each sample. He then took all the small packages and wrapped them into one larger package. Handing the package to Aggie he said, “Thank you for making your purchase from my humble shop young miss. I can tell by the selection that you and your physician are skilled healers. I know these remedies will help your efforts.” After leaving the tent of the strange old man, they stopped to buy a sweet roll. “Papa, lets go over to see the acrobats, I love to see them flip, tumble and jump, oh can we?” “Yes, Aggie of course we can. It will be fun.” Munching on their treats, they took a spot on a small hill under a large leafy tree. The sun was strong but underneath the tree was cool and comfortable. It was a perfect spot to watch the acrobats. It was then Balbar had a strange feeling that they were being watched. Turning quickly to his left, a man who obviously had been watching them, turned away. Balbar waited a few minutes then again turned to observe the man staring at them. There was something strangely familiar about him but Balbar couldn’t place where he had seen him before. Once more Balbar turned to look but this time the man was gone. On the walk home that evening, Balbar could sense something was on Aggie’s mind. She had been silent since they had left the festival. “What is it Aggie, is something bothering you?” “I don’t know papa, I can sense some sort of trouble but I’m not sure what it is.” “Well, let’s not worry about it now, In-time, I’m sure we will know what it is. Shortly after Aggie and Balbar arrived home from work, in the afternoon of the following day, there was a loud knock on the door. Balbar answered the door and was confronted by a man identifying himself as a local magistrate; he was accompanied by two soldiers. The fourth man, in the group, was the same man who had been staring at Balbar, at the festival. “This is quite an assemblage, what can I do for all of you?” Balbar said. “You are under arrest,” said the magistrate, “Both you and your daughter.” “For what? We haven’t done anything.” “That remains to be seen. This man is charging your daughter with the death of his wife. He testified that your daughter, and the healer Putones, poisoned his wife with a remedy they prepared.” Balbar turned to his daughter, “Do you know of this Aggie?” “This is what I know Papa. Putones and I treated a woman, two days before the festival. Her name was Zalinna. She had been crippled by severe leg cramps. We gave her a mixture of herbal teas to alleviate the pain. The herbals seemed to alleviate the pain. When we left she was resting comfortably. We looked in on her the next day and she seemed fine. The cramps had not returned and she was walking quite well. Now she is dead? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand why!”

“Putones has already been arrested and he is in prison,” said the magistrate. “You young woman, are his suspected accomplice. Tomorrow there will be a hearing on this matter. You must appear at the ‘Common House’ at the city square, by the ninth hour, to answer this very serious charge. As of this moment, you are under house arrest. A soldier will be left here to guard you and escort you to the hearing tomorrow. Do you both understand all that I have said to you?” he asked. “Yes,” they both answered, in turn. By this time Balbar, who had been studying their accuser, realized who the man was. He recognized him from their old village. He was a boy then, and now grown into a man. Only getting a brief glimpse of him at the festival, Balbar had not made the connection earlier. Turning to the man Balbar said, “So, Talones, why are you doing this, what do you hope to gain by accusing Aggie? She used to be your friend!” Clearly unsettled by the comment, Talones only grinned. “So, you know who I am then? All the better. Your sorceress daughter and her employer killed my beloved Zalinna. Tomorrow I will tell the court who you both are and how you were ejected from our village for practicing sorcery. You and your daughter will get what is coming to you, old man. As the group turned to leave, Aggie sprang forward and grabbed Talones by the wrist, held him for a few seconds and then let go and stepped back. Talones unconsciously rubbed his wrist as though he’d been stung by a bee. An awkward silence followed and the magistrate said, “Enough of this, guard take up your post, outside the door, let no one enter or leave. You will be relieved at the third hour.” With this, the group left and the guard placed the butt of his spear on the ground and took up his position outside the door. Balbar closed the door and sat down at the table, wondering what to do. He hadn’t noticed until now but Aggie was sitting crossed legged on the floor, eyes closed with a frown creasing her brow. She appeared to be in deep thought so Balbar said nothing. He just stared at the lamp on the table, lost in his own thoughts, while outside the darkness deepened. Some time must have passed because he awoke with Aggie stroking his head affectionately. “It is clear now papa. I know what this man wants and why he accused me.” “Why Aggie, why would he choose to attack us this way? What does he hope to gain?” “I saw while you were asleep papa. It was as if, I were there, observing him, when he carried out this elaborate plan. I could see all that he did but he could not see me. I was invisible to him. He hates his wife Papa! He has come to love another woman and his wife was in the way. His lover encouraged him to kill his wife. He has been waiting for the right moment to take her life. When he saw us at the festival, he knew we were the answer to his problem. This was his plan. He remembered why we were shunned and driven from our old village. At the festival he bought poison from the same old man that sold us the herbs. That night he mixed it with his wife’s evening meal and within a few hours she was dead. He has the evidence he needs to convict us papa. Putones and I treated his wife; he will mention the fact that we were driven from our village, because I was a sorceress. He will speak of the flaming star and how you were the only one to

touch it. He will speak of the sword of feather light metal. He will speak of all these things and then they will come here and find the sword; it seal our fate. These people are much like our old people. They are very superstitious and fearful of that which they don’t understand. They will blame us for any strange occurrences that have happened since we arrived. In short, I and Putones will be put in prison, you will be fined for harboring a sorceress.” “You see all this,” he asked? “Yes papa, all of it. This man is more evil than you can imagine.” “There is no way out of this, is there Aggie? What if we hide the sword? Never mind, you don’t have to answer. If there were a way out, you would have seen it. We must leave tonight. We will take two of our donkeys and what we can carry, leave the rest, and make for Pella. The traveling troupes from the festival are all going to Pella. We will mix with them, and then melt into the city and no one will know us. Just as we did when we came here. Quickly now, make me a sleeping potion and I will take care of our guard.” Taking the kettle of still warm stew, they would have eaten for their evening meal, Balbar spooned a large portion into a bowl. He then added the sleeping potion to the rest of the pot, stirred it and went to the door and opened it. The guard jumped a bit when the door opened but he regained his composure and eyed Balbar warily. “We were having our supper and thought you might like some. It will be a long watch and you must be hungry,” Balbar said, handing the guard the bowl of stew and a spoon. The guard, definitely interested, looked into the bowl and sniffed the delicious aroma. “Do you think me a fool old man? How would it look if I let you drug me and you escaped?” “Oh so you don’t trust me, and my daughter, eh?” Handing the guard the pot, Balbar took the bowl and spoon from him, and scooped a spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewed it and swallowed. “That is delicious,” Balbar said, licking the spoon. “Very well then, you will never know what you are missing. My daughter is a very good cook.” Balbar reached for the door to close it. “Wait,” said the guard. “Bring me a clean bowl and a clean spoon.” “Aggie please get the man a bowl and spoon.” Taking the bowl and spoon, the guard carefully inspected both. Satisfied they were clean, he took the pot he had been holding and spooned a generous portion of stew into the bowl, sniffed its aroma and handed the pot back to Balbar, and muscled him back inside. “I will take care of this,” he said, closing the door. Balbar said nothing just looked at Aggie with a big grin on his face. They made their way out of the city, taking great care not to be seen. They traveled through the night, only stopping to rest the animals and refresh themselves, and then they were on their way again. By the next mid-day they had caught up to the slowmoving caravan of merchants and performers. They were able to easily slip into the procession without attracting any undue notice. After making camp that night, Balbar went to search for the medicine merchant, who had sold Aggie her remedies. When Balbar finally located him, it was well after dark. The old man was sitting by a fire with a plate of food on his lap. There were two young children, a boy and a girl, and a woman with him. All three bore the same ethnic

features as the old man. Looking up as Balbar approached their fire, the old man greeted him saying, “Welcome fellow traveler. Come sit by the fire and share our humble meal with us. This is my daughter Oola and my grandchildren.” “Greetings fellow traveler. I am called Balbar and I thank you for your hospitality,” as he accepted a plate of food from the young woman. I am called Tai Mei. I remember you and your daughter from the festival at Mrytor. She and her physician made that particular day quite a profitable one. So, there is a question you would like to ask me, yes?” “Yes there is, but before I ask the question, I will tell you that we are now part of your caravan and that we had to leave Mrytor. He told Tai Mei the entire story of the accusation against them, and how Aggie had divined the truth. When Tai Mei had heard the tale, his head drooped and he let out a great sigh. “Ah, I should have known the man was lying to me. I never sell poison, unless I know the person very well, but he told me his daughter had a pet dog she had raised from a puppy. He said the dog was near death but he could not bring himself to slit its throat, to put it out of its misery. He said, ‘I only need a small amount of poison. I can conceal the poison in the dog’s food and it will look like the animal died naturally. My little girl will accept his death as coming from the sickness, not from my knife.’ Being old and gullible, I believed him.” “I too would have believed him”, said Balbar, “After all, we both have daughters, don’t we”? The old man sighed again, “Yes we do,” giving Balbar a knowing look. “I could go back to the city and testify to the truth, if you wish.” “That is a great deal to ask and I thank you deeply for such a noble gesture; but I must believe my daughter when she says it would do no good. I have confirmed what my daughter envisioned. I have to learn to trust her, she has never been wrong.” Rising and handing the empty plate to the woman, he said, the food was delicious, the friendship offered and accepted is priceless and I bid you all a safe journey. Taking the old man’s hand, he said, “If I can ever help you in any way, I will.” Heading back to his own camp, he couldn’t wait to tell Aggie the details of what she probably already knew. Unfortunately it would not be the last time they would have to pick up and move. It would always take time, sometimes several years, to again be recognized. She would always know when these encounters were about to take place. Her special powers would somehow be discerned by an unusually alert local, or someone from their past would appear, reveal their secret and re-plant the seeds of fear and suspicion that followed one such as Agathara, who was now twenty years old. They went from Mrytor to Pella, then from Pella to Scodra, then from Scodra to Dyrrhachium. Balbar lamented, “We can’t get away from this. No matter where we go, sooner or later, our past catches up with us.” “Oh papa what have I brought upon us? Will we ever be able to live a normal life, as other people do?” “Aggie, you did not ask for this gift, and yes, despite all the fear associated with it, I still believe it to be a gift from the gods, just as I still believe the flaming star was also a gift. All of this has a purpose, my daughter; we just don’t know what it is. What do you think Aggie, what should we do?”

Pausing and closing her eyes she did think for a moment, a very long moment. When she opened her eyes again she turned toward him and said with great conviction, “Papa I think we should go across the great sea. I have seen us on a ship and we are sailing over the sea for days, very far from here. I saw a great harbor, of blue green water, surrounded by a great city. There were shipyards, with huge ships being built and lots of ships anchored in the harbor. The harbor was the center of activity of this beautiful city, overlooked by mountains, and the sun was shinning and I felt at peace. The vision, it was very strong Papa.” “Then that is the place where we must go.” He made some discreet inquires to see if anyone knew of such a place. Many different ports were described to him, but none seemed to fit the picture Aggie had described. He knew he shouldn’t, but his travels created a craving, which overcame his better judgment, and he stopped at a neighborhood tavern for a cup of wine. As he sat sipping his watered wine and remembering how ill fortune is often found in the bottom of a cup, he overheard two men talking. One was telling a story while the other listened. The story was describing a stormy sea voyage that had almost cost the narrator his life. Balbar thought, “Perhaps this man could possibly know of the city in Aggie’s vision and where it is.” Balbar sipped from his cup and eyed the two men, out of the corner of his eye. Before long the listener rose, gave a farewell handshake to the storyteller and left him sitting at the table alone. After a reasonable wait, Balbar got up from his seat and approached the man. “Pardon me sir, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I couldn’t help overhear your harrowing story. Did your ship make it safely to port after your experience with the storm?” “No, she went down with all hands and I am just a figment of your imagination,” he replied. At first Balbar didn’t quite know what to say, then as the intended joke of the matter passed between them, they both started to laugh. The storyteller laughed so hard he wept. Balbar, caught up in the moment laughed just as hard. Breathless from laughing, “I am Balbar,” he said and sat down at the table and apologized for the intrusion. “Let me buy you a drink,” signaling the innkeeper for two more cups of wine. The seaman offered his hand and said, “The name is Castales and I am the captain of ‘Sea Sprite,’ and in answer to your question, yes, we lost some canvas and some rigging but, thank the Gods, we made it safely back to port. If the ‘Sprite’ were not such a sturdy vessel, we would have been sunk and my jest to you would not have been a jest”. Without pause Castales said, “Now that that we have had a laugh and are better acquainted, perhaps you will tell me the real reason you wanted to strike up a conversation with me?” “Was I that obvious,” asked Balbar? “No my friend, take no offense at this question. I am well schooled at looking into the hearts of men. When you have to pick men to go to sea, you learn to be a good judge of them. Not everyone is prepared for life at sea, and when the situation becomes deadly, such as the voyage in my recent story, you definitely want the best of men. My life and the lives of my crew may depend on the kind of men I choose, so I choose carefully. Over

the years, I have gotten better, for I have had much practice. Now, what can I do for you?” Balbar related Aggie’s dream to the seaman and even shared a little about their plight, however he did not divulge information about her abilities as a seeress. “It sounds as though you speak of a port we call Brundises, although I believe the Romans call it Brundisium. I have been there many times over the years and my cargoes always sell well. It is nine days at sea and it is the only port that I know of, in this part of the Adriatic that builds ships. As a matter of fact, I will be taking a cargo of cloth, olive oil and leather goods there two market intervals from now. We begin loading cargo tomorrow. I often take passengers on these trips. The fare is two silver denarius, would you like to go as passengers on my ship?” “Yes, yes,” Balbar replied. “I can’t believe my good fortune in meeting you Castales. Surely the Gods have smiled on me this day. You have offered me a solution to my dilemma, and I thank you with my heart.” Taking a piece of parchment from his pocket, Castales tilted the table lamp to allow a few drops of wax to fall on the paper and then pressed his ring into the wax. Giving the paper to Balbar he said, “Come to the ship in, ah, let’s see, say fifteen days from today. Show this seal to my man Paulus. He will be on the pier directing the loading of the cargo. You will have no trouble finding him. Just look for the biggest man you have ever seen. Now I must go. It has been a pleasure meeting you Balbar and I look forward to meeting your daughter as well. Oh and one more thing my ship is a merchantman. There are no special sleeping accommodations, except under a canvas on deck, and no dining area, in short, no luxuries. You may bring as many belongings as you like but I cannot accommodate any animals. You will have to fend for yourselves, although you can have your meals at the same time as the crew. Is this arrangement agreeable to you?” “Yes, my daughter and I are used to being outdoors, and we have few worldly possessions. We will find no hardship with these conditions.” “Hardy travelers, that is good.” “Wait, how will I know your ship?” Balbar asked. Castales laughed again, rose to leave and making his way to the door, said over his shoulder, “My ‘Sea Sprite’, she is like my man Paulus, the biggest ship in the harbor.” Balbar could hear Castale’s laughter echo off the brick walls, as he made his way down the street. The two spent most of those next fifteen days in preparation for their journey. “We should travel as light as possible Aggie. We’ll sell the animals and shrink our belongings into a pack for you and one for me.” This was not difficult, for they had not accumulated many possessions, having been in Dyrrhachium only a few months. The day before their scheduled departure the two went to the piers to find Paulus and pay their fare and receive any last minute instructions. As Castales had said, he was easy to find, being by far, the largest man either of them had ever seen. When Balbar presented the wax seal to him he smiled and said, “The captain has told me of you and your desire to go to Brundises. Ah, it is one of my favorite ports. There is this woman there she is...” catching himself, in mid sentence and blushing, he apologized profusely. “Forgive me young lady. I am so often in the company of seaman, I forget my manners when a beautiful woman is present.” Giving him a brilliant smile,

Aggie accepted his apology and assured him that no harm had been done. Balbar noticed the unspoken mutual attraction that passed between the two and thought; we will be well cared for on this voyage, for sure. “They received their instructions and the exact time and place of departure, paid their fare and thanked Paulus for his help. “The pleasure is mine,” said Paulus. “If you would like to see the ship, she is anchored in the outer harbor, just off the end of the last quay. You can’t miss her she is the biggest girl out there.” “Come papa, let’s go take a look at the ship.” The quay was very long and high off the water, at low tide, which was the situation, at this time of day. It curved outward, and then curled back toward the inner harbor, serving as a quay and a breakwater. The “Sea Sprite” wasn’t visible until they had walked quite a ways out. When the ship came into view Aggie took a stumbling step backward as if she had been struck. “Papa, we cannot go on that ship!” “What is it Aggie, do you sense danger?” “Yes papa” she said, sobbing, with her eyes tightly shut, “It is very dark, I feel wind, very strong wind. I see great waves engulfing the ship. I see men being swept away, drowning.” She began to falter and tried to shield her face, with her arm, dodging and choking, as though she were living that which she was dreaming. Then she collapsed. Balbar caught her as she fell and gently lowered her to the quay, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. In a few moments Aggie opened her eyes. “What happened papa, where am I?” “You had a vision Aggie, the worst one you have ever had. It frightened me, very much. It was almost as if you could have died from it. You seemed to be on a ship, there were waves and wind, you were drowning, do you remember?” She again closed her eyes. “Yes I remember. It was so real and so horrible,” she said, beginning to cry. “I must tell Castales of this vision Aggie. He and his crew will perish if I do not.” “Papa wait,” she said, grasping his arm. “Is it wise to tell him of this? He will not believe you, you know!” Stopping to reflect on the implications of what she had said, “I have to try to make him believe Aggie, you know I have to try. I couldn’t live with the deaths of all those men, if I didn’t try to make him believe in you.” He took Aggie back to their apartment and made sure she was all right. Balbar then went back to the waterfront searching for Castales. He found him emerging from the harbormaster’s shack. “Ho Balbar, what is it? By the look on your face this must be a very serious matter my friend, what’s the trouble?” Looking at Castales, Balbar nodded, then with downcast eyes, barely audibly he said, “Yes Castales, it is very serious. It is a matter of life and death.” “The death of who Balbar, whose death?” “The death of you and your crew, my friend.” Castales pocketed the clay tablet and stylus, he had been writing with, and said, “I was right, this is very serious and I see by your eyes and your demeanor that you are not jesting. Tell me the reason for such a statement.” Balbar proceeded to relate the story of their lives, from the death of his wife until now. The expression on Castales face changed every time the story took another turn. His

expression at the end of the story was one of sadness. “It sorrows me to hear of all the trouble you two have had. That poor little girl. What she has endured is beyond belief. I must think carefully on this decision I now have to make. It may well be the most important one I will ever make. The question is, do I brush it aside as nonsense, or do I believe in that which only the Gods understand. Acht, this is very difficult! Does she know exactly when this storm of storms will strike?” Castales asked. “No, my friend, she has no way to know exactly when, only that it will come to pass.” “You do see the reason for my hesitancy, don’t you Balbar? I have contracts and a schedule, it is a nightmare.” “Yes, I imagine it could cost you a great deal of money and opportunity, the longer you wait to sail.” “You are correct Balbar. Now, I must decide and I would ask you to leave now. I will inform you of my decision as soon as I make it.” The storm did come, after four days of waiting. It came with a vengeance and with little warning. One moment the sun was shinning, the next moment dark clouds formed, the wind picked-up to hurricane force and within a few hours, the skies opened and poured forth a torrent. The storm raged for two days. Many small boats were torn loose from their moorings and deposited some distance inland or dashed to pieces on the rocks and on the walls of the quay. The quay itself, a very sturdy structure of rock, bricks and mortar, saw some damage from the power of the breaking waves. Most shore roads and seaside paths disappeared under huge piles of sand, pushed ashore by the relentless wind and sea. The “Sea Sprite”, at anchor, rode out the storm relatively un-scathed. She had shown the truth of what her captain had said of her, that she was a tough old girl. Castales often said later, “If we had sailed when I originally wanted to, we would have ended up on the bottom.” He of course took credit for saving ship and crew from certain death. He had given his word to Balbar that he would never reveal the real story behind the decision not to sail, even if threatened with death, and Balbar believed him. Even years after, Castales would occasionally suffer a twinge of conscience when his foresight was credited with saving “Sea Sprite” and her crew. Of course, as the hero arrived at the local tavern, and the cups were hoisted, his guilt quickly vanished. When the voyage actually took place it was as pleasant as an ocean voyage can be. Days and days of sunshine. Cool dry air and brisk trailing winds, which shortened their trip by a full day. Aggie and Balbar were on deck, as the “Sea Sprite” entered the harbor of Brundisium. The sun was behind them and bathed the city and surrounding hills in brilliant daylight and the harbor was bustling with activity. “Aggie, it is so beautiful, it takes my breath away. I have never seen so many ships in one place.” “This is the place I saw in my dream. “Isn’t it beautiful?” “It is amazing Aggie. It is exactly as you described it to me.” “It gives me a feeling of peace Papa, does it do the same for you?” He did feel more peaceful, as though some giant burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “Aggie, I believe we can stop looking over our shoulders now. This may be the place we can finally call home.

Joining them at the rail Castales said, “What do you think Aggie, isn’t this a sight to behold?” “Oh yes it is. And we wish to thank you for caring for us. You made our voyage a wonderful experience.” “Oh no no, it is I who should be thanking you. If it hadn’t been for you, well, you know what would have happened! As soon as we anchor, I will be going ashore. Please don’t leave the ship until I get back. I may have some news you will definitely want to hear.” “We will wait for you my captain”, she said, flashing him that special smile. “Oh if I were a younger man!” he said, placing his hand over his heart, heading for the gangway. When Castales got back to the ship, he had a self-satisfied look on his face. “I have an offer for you from an old friend of mine. In fact, he owed me a great debt, which I will consider paid-in-full, providing you accept the offer.” Aggie and Balbar looked at each other, “What is the offer Castales?” “My friend is a landlord, he owns numerous properties in the city. He said he will give you a small house free of charge. He will transfer ownership to you, if you approve. I haven’t seen it, but he assured me it is clean and would be more than adequate for both of you. What do you say?” They father and daughter again looked at each other. This time they embraced and began hugging and dancing around in a circle, for joy. “We accept,” they both said, at the same time. “Wait, that isn’t all. I spoke with another friend who will give you a job Balbar. He is overseer at the metal shop in one of the shipyards and he has need for an ironsmith. He will pay you a fair wage and you can start right away. What do you think of that?” Now it was Balbar’s turn to beam and dance for joy. Turning to his daughter he said, “Aggie, we have come home!” Castales congratulated them clapping Balbar on the back and hugging Aggie, he seemed more than well pleased that he could help the ones who had saved his life. “It was the very least I could do. Now, gather-up your belongings and we will find your new home and get you settled.” Their new home had all the amenities they needed. The house was small, nestled at the end of a short street. The street was lined with houses, shops, apartments and inns. The opposite end of the street entered a square with fountain at its center. A short distance away there was a market place where their food needs could be met. The house had recently been put up for sale, so it had been cleaned and freshly painted, inside and out. “Papa, I am so excited, it is just what we need.” They stared in wonder at their amazing good fortune. “See Aggie, I told you, your gift of foresight can bring happiness.” “Yes Papa, I needed to see that it could, and it has.” Balbar could actually see the happiness in her eyes for the first time, in a very long time. It took several days to settle into their new home. As soon as they were able to accommodate a guest, they invited Castales over for dinner. Aggie fussed over the meal preparation, tweaking the recipe until it was perfect. After Castales had eaten the meal she had prepared, he raved on and on, about it. “Ah Aggie, as I said before, if only I were twenty years younger. You are a wonder and you can cook too. This produced a laugh as

their first private joke. Castales also shared with them how their former landlord had been relieved to repay the debt that he owed him. “What exactly was that debt Castales,” Balbar inquired? “We know each other well enough, I guess I could tell you. I saved his life! Do you remember the storm I spoke of, with my shipmate, when we first met at the tavern in Dyrrhachium?” “Yes, of course I do,” replied Balbar. “Well, during that storm, which happened about five years ago, at one point, we were hard pressed to keep ‘Sprite’s’ nose into the wind, to keep from capsizing. I looked up just in time to see one of my crew, Baculinus, take a wave that swept him over the side. I really didn’t stop to think about what I was doing, I just tied a lifeline around my waist and jumped in after him. When I got to him he was unconscious. If I hadn’t done what I did, he would most certainly have drowned. Then my boys just hauled the two of us back to the ship. So you see, it was my crew and the lifeline that saved us.” “Nonsense Castales,” Aggie said, “It was you. If you hadn’t thought of the lifeline it would not have happened. You really were a hero that day.” “Aggie I am learning to like you more and more. You are right, by the Gods, I am a hero,” he said, as he rose in a mock flourish and took a deep bow. This action again brought forth laughter from the three of them. “Anyway, when Baculinus was again back on dry land, he vowed never to set foot on a ship again. He went to work, saved his money, and began investing in small inexpensive properties. He must have had a talent for it, for within a few years he owned many properties and now, he is very wealthy man. So you see; his good fortune now becomes your good fortune. Isn’t it strange how it works! I save him, you save me, he saves you. Ah life, what a mystery it is.” Again they laughed. “Now my friends, I must bid you goodbye. The ‘Sprite’ sails on the morning tide and there are many details that need my attention. We sail from here to Nicopolis, then back to Dyrrhachium”. “Will you stop and see us when you return to Brundises Castales?” “Hah, Posiedon couldn’t keep me away.” Aggie cried, for she and Balbar found it very hard to say goodbye to their newest friend. Their new home, and their new life, in Brundisium were good. Balbar’s work suited his talents well, and he soon became indispensable to the shipyard, that employed him. He became known as the roving ironsmith, by developing a moving forge. It was a simple affair, just a forge, anvil and some tools, mounted on a sturdy low bed wagon. He could quickly move his workspace to wherever he was needed This mobility eliminated unnecessary delays when something needed to be made of iron, or a repair needed to be done, or a horse needed to be shod. The horse shoeing task took up the majority of his time. There were many horses in use throughout the yard, their hooves constantly needing attention. Most of the horses were large, muscular draft animals. Their strength was needed to haul the heavy loads; a common requirement when the work is the building of ships. Balbar loved the huge beasts. He spoke to them and treated them as old friends, whenever he had to replace their shoes or file their hooves. The horses were docile, but there were a few who were anything but docile. He knew which ones were skittish and he

used caution when servicing these particular animals. There was one horse, an extra large male, called Demon, who loved to bite. When the horse was first brought to the yard, he tried to bite Balbar, and failed at the attempt; but at that same instant, he also stepped back, with his left front hoof and stepped on Balbar’s left foot. Balbar, now pinned, knew that if the horse decided to put his full weight on that leg, his pinned foot would be crushed. He tried pushing the horse away, but the horse wouldn’t move. In desperation, Balbar closed his fist and struck the animal, with all the strength he could muster. The animal moved a half-step forward and Balbar pulled free. The foot was sore but no bones had been broken and he could still walk. He took a few days off and considered himself fortunate not to have been seriously injured. From then on, whenever he worked with Demon, he kept a wary eye on him. Aggie had also prospered in Brundisium. It didn’t take long take her long to become endeared to the people in that part of the city where she and Balbar lived. Word of her healing skills spread quickly and before long, by first light of each day, a line of her ailing neighbors had formed. The line began at her door, and stretched down the street. Soon, their little house in the bowels of the city became a hospice for the ailing poor. x x x x x x x x x x It was a day of lightning and thunder. The rain fell in torrents and even the sick sought shelter from it. There were no patients in a line this day. Balbar had gone off to work so Aggie was alone, puttering around the house. The storm had started to subside. I will make myself some tea and enjoy the peace and quiet, she thought. As she reached for the pot of hot water, she felt an excruciating pain in her chest. She staggered backward. She had to grope for a chair to keep from falling. It was as though she had been struck with some great invisible club. As she sat down in the chair, the pain suddenly vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The disappearing pain was replaced by dread. “Papa, Papa,” she screamed. She rushed out the door. She ran with all her strength, ran with panic and fear chasing her through the streets of Brundisium, to the shipyard, where her father worked. She ran through the gate, into the yard, her instincts telling her exactly where to go. She went to the stable, where her father lay critically injured. There was a small crowd of workers around where he lay, half sitting against a stone wall. “Let me through,” she cried, as the crowd parted, to do as she bid. Balbar’s fellow workers all knew her well, for she had treated and healed many of them, over the years. Menlius, her father’s direct supervisor, was kneeling next to Balbar. He spoke to her as she approached, fearful of what her findings would be. “I saw what happened Aggie. Your father had turned away to pick up his tongs and as he turned back, a clap of thunder sounded and Demon, kicked him in the chest. The blow knocked him back against the wall, where you see him now. We were afraid to move him for fear he is broken inside. Do you think you can you help him?” “I don’t know,” she answered, as she bent over him, the tears cascading from her eyes. She instantly knew he was beyond her, or anyone’s, help. His life was slowly ebbing away. She also knew he couldn’t speak. She could see it in his eyes; she could see all his dying thoughts in his eyes.

“Yes Papa, Mama is near you. Can you see her? Is she calling to you? Go to her Papa, take her hand; she will take care of you now. I can’t go with you yet, but I will someday.” His eyes spoke to her, she did not need the words. She put her arms around him and held him. How frail he seems, she thought. She whispered to him gently stroking his hair. “Yes Papa, I love you very much too. You have been my strength, my staff to lean on, and my dearest friend. Yes Papa, I am strong now. I can manage on my own. I will continue my work, for I know it is what I was meant to do.” Her tears ceased. She dried her eyes, with the hem of her garment and said goodbye to him, and again, told him how much she loved him, as his eyes closed in death.

Chapter IV The Art of the Sword Claudius in no particular hurry, ambled his way back to the shipyard. Overhead the sky was nearly cloudless, but toward the horizon a few wispy clouds captured the light from the setting sun and turned it pink and violet. It had been a memorable day. It pleased him to have pleased someone else, and he knew Aggie would keep the day as a pleasant lasting memory. He often, as he did now, thought about the power she possessed. To be able to glimpse the future, it seemed such an extraordinary and impossible thing. That power, in the wrong hands, could destroy nations, he thought. He hoped the Gods would only give that degree of power to someone like Aggie. With her, such a power would not be abused. It would only be used to render good. Claudius suddenly realized he was strolling through the shipyard gates. I must stay alert when I am traveling through the city, he thought. Those young toughs, who antagonized Aggie, could still be about. They would love to catch me napping and exact their vengeance. Reaching inside his tunic he felt the reassuring hilt of his dagger, while making a mental note to be more careful. It was well after sunset when he approached the loft he shared with Rufus. He noticed a light in the window. Rufus must still be awake, he thought, feeling a twinge of guilt at the same instant. I haven’t spent much time with him lately, and I miss our times together. It seems I am always going when he is coming. I hope he is not too tired to spend some time together. As he mounted the access ladder to the loft, and his line of sight cleared the square access opening, he saw Rufus lying back, his head propped up on a pillow. His eyes were closed, hands clasped behind his head. Suddenly Rufus opened his eyes. “Well, if it isn’t the stranger, what’s your name again,” he said laughing. “How are you? Well I hope! I was just resting my eyes when I heard you climb the ladder.” “Rufus, I am so glad to see you. When I saw the light I hoped you would be awake, and we could talk for a while. I want to apologize for being so unavailable lately.” Claudius started to disrobe in preparation for going to bed. He prattled on about his day with Aggie. Rufus didn’t say much, except for a nod and a grunt now and then. “So Rufus, tell me what you have been doing with yourself?” “I have been preparing for you Claudius.”

“Preparing for me, in what way, my friend?” “Well, the time has come to begin your weapons training.” Claudius immediately stopped what he was doing, and turned to look at Rufus. “Yes, I think starting now would be best for you. You are still exercising daily aren’t you Claudius?” “Yes, yes I am. Do you mean training with a sword Rufus?” “The very same Claudius. As I was saying, this exercise regimen you have been doing, has really been stage one of your training. What we will do now is enter the second stage of it, where you will actually learn to use a sword and other weapons as well. Think of it Claudius, we have been here in Brundisium more than three years. You came here a boy and now you are almost a grown man. I believe you are ready for a man’s work. Make no mistake Claudius, the art of the sword is definitely a man’s work. I know its getting late, but there are some thoughts you should sleep on before we continue your training, on the morrow. As I just mentioned, your journey, to the goal you desire, has already begun. It is not a journey to be taken lightly. The training I intend to give you is not the traditional gladiatorial training. My method will be a combined program. I will mix a gladiator’s skill with a legionnaire’s skill, for I also served as a trainer in the legions, and fought in the African campaign, under Marius. When your training is complete, you will have a power other men do not possess. You will be more skilled than all but a few. With this skill you will hold the lives of men in your hands. Have you ever thought what it would be like to take a man’s life Claudius? To create a widow or an orphan?” “I have thought of this Rufus, twice. Once when Drusus and his bullies beat me and once when my father and his entire household were slaughtered. I could have killed then and not thought twice about it.” “Yes, I think I can imagine how you felt at those times. You were angry and you wanted revenge.” “Yes, I did want revenge. I wanted the ones responsible for the suffering of my loved ones to suffer also. Is that wrong Rufus?” “There are those who say revenge is wrong, there are also those who say revenge is sweet. I believe if you are obsessed by it, then it is wrong. If the Gods decide the revenge, and you are witness to it, then it can be sweet and you would not be at fault to savor it. I also believe that ultimately, revenge is a feeling and each man must decide for himself how best to deal with it.” “We could discuss this subject endlessly, but now, you look tired and we both have to go to work tomorrow. You are also now in you’re official training period so rest is important. Tonight I would like you to sleep on what we have just discussed. Tomorrow you will embark on a difficult journey. After sleeping on it, should you still want to continue, meet me on the beach after your regular daily workout. Oh, I forgot to mention it, your daily workout will become your daily warm-up. When we meet, you will have already completed your usual exercise regimen. Your muscles will be warmed and you will be ready for training. Do this part every day unless I tell you otherwise. Plus, while you are under my tutelage, you will do as I say without question. This is the only way that I can properly teach you. There will be times when you won’t like my methods, but I ask your trust that I know what I am doing. Remember I am teaching what I actually did in my life. I will whittle away all that I believe not to be important. I will give you the marrow of my knowledge. Are these terms acceptable to you Claudius?”

“Yes Rufus, all your terms are acceptable to me. I will be an apt pupil, I promise you.” “You will also, no doubt, as we go along, have questions and comments but please save them for the proper time. I will let you know when that is. So, good night Claudius and pleasant dreams, Rufus said, as he reached over and snuffed out the lamp. Claudius did dream that night and they were not pleasant dreams they were nightmares. His sleep was fitful and disturbed. He dreamed of bloody battles, with dead dismembered soldiers lying about, stacked one on the other, like cordwood. Faceless men, brandishing swords, were chasing him, reaching for him, clutching at his tunic. Widows were clutching at his clothing, wailing for lost sons and husbands. Orphans were pleading with him to spare their lives. The men with swords had chased him inside an arena and the crowd was chanting and roaring for his blood, then he awoke. It was not quite sun-up when Claudius opened his eyes. When he did he realized he was drenched in sweat. The bedclothes were also damp and clammy and disarrayed as though some violent thrashing had taken place. He felt tired as though he had not slept a wink yet he knew he must have, as the passage of many hours had not been apparent until he awoke. He also felt a ravenous hunger. He washed, got dressed and made his way to Galbus’ house, and as usual, Alletes was up and had already prepared breakfast. Some hot bread and a bowl of steaming porridge soon had him feeling alert and ready for the day. The bad dreams had already faded from his memory. What was much more prominent in his mind was, how will my training start? What will Rufus show me first? Will I be able to even learn to use a sword? Will I be too clumsy and perhaps cut myself? Claudius thought of these things all through the day. Eager to get started with his training, Claudius had completed his warm-up and was headed back toward the yard. Running in the sand, breathing heavily and bathed in sweat, Claudius happened to look up and spotted Rufus sitting on a large driftwood log waiting. Strange, he thought, I must have passed that log hundreds of times but I never even noticed it before now. Claudius slowed to a walk and sat down next to his friend. Rufus politely allowed Claudius to catch his breath before he spoke. With Claudius breathing normally again Rufus said, “Greetings Claudius, I trust you are well?” “Yes Rufus, I feel good. My muscles are loose and warm after my run.” “After your ranting and thrashing last night, I wasn’t sure you would be here today. So I guess you are none the worse for ware.” “I did have some bad dreams but they were nothing, so tell me, what is it that you have wrapped in that package Rufus?” “Ah, it is a gift for you my friend,” he said, handing Claudius the package. Opening the package Claudius gave a whoop of delight and jumped up holding a wellcrafted wooden sword. He took hold of it by the pommel hefted it and brandished it a few times. Why is it so heavy Rufus, shouldn’t it weigh less than a real sword?” “It is heavier than normal on purpose Claudius. I had Publius the carpenter make it for you. The hilt and the blade are split along their length and hollowed out. Before the two halves are joined the cavities packed with beach sand. It is standard legion length and the wood is strong. After you practice with it all day, you will think it’s an anchor made

of lead, but then that is the idea. The extra weight will help to develop the muscles in your back, legs and sword arm. After training with this, a metal sword will feel as though you were holding a feather in your hand.” Taking the sword from Claudius’ hand, Rufus said, “Now Claudius, observe my motions very closely. You are to repeat these same motions, over and over again, until I tell you to stop.” “I am paying close attention Rufus.” “So you are, very well then, here is the routine I want you to practice.” Rufus assumed a posture thusly. Feet planted firmly on the ground, a shoulder width apart. Sword in the right hand, elbow slightly bent, sword point at about chest level. “This is the stance Claudius. Position yourself sideways to your opponent, not facing him. Your body now presents the narrowest target possible. As you advance or retreat, never pick up your feet. Change position by sliding your feet. Now it is a four-step drill, very basic, practiced by all beginning gladiators and legionnaires. The first three moves are defensive, the fourth an attacking one. Watch closely now. Bring the sword up to block a stroke from directly above. Parry to the right, an opponents forward thrust to your body. Parry to the left, an opponents thrust to your body and finally, you thrust at your opponent’s body. You will do this drill after your warm-up, and until sundown, each and every day. Start slowly and increase the speed of your movement, a little each day. When you have confidence in the four steps, and you are at the fastest speed you can attain, that is the speed with which you will practice from then on. Now, take the wooden sword and show me what I just showed you. Claudius did as he was asked and slowly performed the drill to perfection. “Excellent”, Rufus said. “Do the drill until sundown and we will meet at Galbus’ for our evening meal.” With that, Rufus left him to practice and practice he did, for a long time after that. Day after day, week after week, in any weather, he practiced with the piece of wood until it became a part of him, a virtual extension of his arm. He only saw Rufus at their evening meal. Before they would sit down to eat, Rufus would feel the muscles in his back and sword arm and say, “Um ah, yes, the development is going quite well. Are the drills boring Claudius,” he would ask? Claudius would always answer in the same way, “Yes, they are boring Rufus; but I know they are necessary.” After a while it got to be a routine joke and even Galbus would laugh at the obvious answer. After the laughter was over Rufus would never fail to say, “Keep doing it.” The driftwood log became their meeting place. When Rufus had some lesson or technique, he would be waiting there as Claudius completed his warm-up. “Try to hold the sword like a bird Claudius. If you hold it to tight you will kill the bird. If you hold the bird too loose, it will fly away. Never be on one foot. You can easily be knocked to the ground, if you are on one foot. If you are knocked to the ground, during a match, always roll to the side opposite your opponent’s sword hand. Roll to safety and when you stop rolling, your sword must be poised to block or thrust.” Rufus would always ask, “Any questions about what I just said Claudius?” He would always answer no and Rufus would then depart, leaving Claudius to his drills.

One afternoon as Claudius was finishing his warm-up, he trotted up to Rufus as he sat on the log. Claudius was breathing almost normally and not perspiring at all. Rufus observed this and said, “I see your warm-ups are not taxing you any more Claudius! This is a good sign, for you are at peak physical condition.” Claudius noticed that Rufus was carrying a practice sword of his own and had two wicker shields, which were set aside. “Why do you have a wooden sword and shields with you Rufus?” “Well Claudius, I was thinking, the other day, that maybe you might be tired of drills, and perhaps we might try a little sparing, with swords only, just to see how much you have learned.” “By all means Rufus, let’s do it. You are right though, the drills are boring; but I believe they are necessary to build the needed muscles.” They both chuckled at their old routine. “Before we start remember, what I teach you today may save your life tomorrow. Learn the lessons well and they will serve you well. Now, take up your weapon and let’s begin.” “First we will start slowly, using the four-step drill. I will counter as you progress. When you become more proficient, we will increase the speed of the drills until we approach actual combat speed, which is, as you may have guessed, moving as fast as you can. Let us begin.” They started slowly, block, parry left, and parry right, thrust. Rufus knew the drill well and applied his skill to accommodate the movements of Claudius. It was a strange feeling. For the first time Claudius felt what it was like for his sword to contact another weapon in relation to his action. He soon sensed the rhythm of the bout. He tried increasing the speed a little. Rufus quickly sensed the change and increased his speed as well. Both men were breathing harder now and both were perspiring freely. The clatter of wood on wood became louder and more rapid. Without seeming to realize that it was happening, Rufus’ began to tire. His opposing actions became slower and slower as the stamina of the younger man gave Claudius a distinct advantage. This became painfully apparent when one of Claudius’ thrusts went un-parried and the blunt point of the wooden sword, jabbed Rufus heavily in the ribs. Rufus staggered back clutching his ribs. Thinking him hurt, Claudius dropped his guard. At the same instant, Rufus magically recovered and made a thrust at Claudius’ heart with the point of his sword stopping, in mid air, about a finger width from his body. “Always be alert to any ruse an opponent may use to defeat you Claudius.” Taking up one of the shields, Rufus demonstrated the four-point drill using the shield as an offensive weapon. “Your shield can win a match for you Claudius. If you strike your opponent with the edge of the shield here, upward, under the chin, or here, downward on the knee, or on either side of the head, or anywhere on the sword arm, victory is almost assured. Now, resume your four-point drill, using sword and shield, until the sun sets and I shall see you at Galbus’ table this evening.” Saying nothing more, Rufus turned and headed off back toward the yard. The next time Rufus was waiting at the log, carrying his wooden sword and wicker shield. “Take your stance,” he instructed. “Now, do you remember what we did at our last practice session?” “Yes Rufus, I do.”

“Excellent, and the lesson learned about trickery, do you remember that also?” “Yes Rufus, I remember.” “Very well then, let’s do the same thing and I will call a halt when it is time. Oh yes, one more thing; this time we will do it left handed. Sputtering a bit, Claudius said, “But Rufus, I know nothing of left-handed work.” “It will be alright Claudius, just bear with me.” It was laughable. Clumsy was a poor description of the effort. After a while Claudius just fell on the ground laughing at his own ineptitude. “This is normal Claudius. Don’t be discouraged. Start with the four point very slowly, then add the shield as before, all with the left hand. Of course it will be awkward at first, but I know you can do it, just start slowly and increase speed gradually.” “I will try Rufus, I will try.” After four days of constant practice, Claudius could effectively attack and defend using the sword in his left hand. At the start of the fifth day, of left handed practice, Rufus came after Claudius had begun his drills. “Claudius, you have done very well left handed. I was observing you drill as I approached and I was amazed at your progress. Take a rest for a while and we will walk the beach,” he said, as he put his arm affectionately around Claudius’ shoulder. When they had walked a short distance, they came to a halt, Rufus turned to Claudius to look into his eyes. “You have accomplished something that very few men can do. You can fight with either hand. I have known men who were exceptional Gladiators but, even they, could only fight with one dominant hand. Now, if your right arm were disabled, you could fight with your left, you could stay alive, correct Claudius?” “Yes Rufus, I could still defend myself and stay alive.” “Very well then, practice for two more days, with your left hand and when I return, we will try something new. After Rufus left, Claudius thought, that was the first time Rufus has given me any sort of encouragement or praise. I must have impressed him quite a bit. The rest of the drills, that day, were performed with a lighter heart, something Claudius hadn’t felt for a very long time. The something new was a helmet, greaves and body armor. “Where in the world did you get all this equipment Rufus?” “Oh I borrowed some from here, some from there, you know. You would be surprised at how many ex-legionnaires there are working at the three shipyards. Some were even in the same legion as I. Of course I only borrowed these pieces, so we must return them in the very best of condition.” “Did you wear armor as a gladiator Rufus?” “Yes I did. I was what is called a Myrmillo. I fought with sword, shield, and helmet, left leg greave and armor on my sword arm. I also wore armor in the legions; there I wore helmet and body armor, and sometimes greaves. When I became a gladiator, I chose to train as a Myrmillo because the equipment and weapon were very similar to what I was used to. I want you to wear this equipment to do the four-point. In, fact, wear the equipment from now on for all the drills you and I will do. Is this agreeable?” Claudius only nodded. “Oh, one more thing Claudius. The salt air will wreak havoc on

this armor and helmet. You must wipe it all down and coat the pieces with some kind of oil, every day, or they will surely rust.” “I will care for them as if they were my own Rufus.” “I shall see you at mealtime then,” Rufus said, as he strode off. Months had now passed. Rufus had verified that Claudius’ muscles were in the best of shape. His warm-ups and drills had hardened every muscle in his body. He could feel the power of his body, his stamina and breathing; the fluidity in his movements and it gave him confidence. He could run and then drill for hours, at top speed and not become winded. He didn’t need Rufus to tell him that he was performing his drills with, not only skill, but also with precision and speed. He could perform the four-point as smoothly as a dancer with no less amount of grace. Rufus often observed him from a concealed spot and marveled at the perfection of movement Claudius had created by using only a few simple drills. He also marveled at how striking a man Claudius was. He was more than a head taller than Rufus and exuded confidence. A strong chin and coal back hair and brows framing piercing blue eyes that missed nothing. His arms and legs corded with long rippling muscles that promised endurance more than brute strength. All in all, a formidable man. It was a glorious day. One of those rare days when the sea sparkled, a slight breeze was blowing offshore, the temperature was moderate and being out on the beach was pleasure defined. As Claudius ended his warm-up and approached the driftwood log; he had to blink twice to clarify what he saw. Rufus, or someone, had dug a hole and buried a post in the sand. The post was about as thick as a man’s body and the amount protruding from the sand was about equal to a man’s height. “You have probably guessed what the post is supposed to represent.” “I suppose it must be an opponent for me to practice on, Rufus.” “You are quite correct, but today Claudius, we will learn about this,” Rufus said as he produced a spear that had been lying alongside the log, out of Claudius’ line of vision. “Today you will replace your wooden sword with this spear and commence the four-point.” “I have never handled a spear before Rufus.” “That’s alright Claudius, today you will learn. This is not a practice spear. It is real and the point is very sharp. Exercise caution until you get the feel of the weapon. Here Claudius take it,” he said as he tossed it sideways to Claudius. “Now find the point of balance, in your hand, for that is where you will hold it. Yes, that’s it just like that. Now, do your four-point drill using the spear, starting slowly and increasing speed as before. I will leave you to this for a few days. When we meet again, we can spar as we did before. I will have to obtain another spear somewhere. I will have to work on that”, he mumbled to himself, as he walked away. Suddenly Rufus turned around and started talking again. “You know Claudius, I think there are some additional things we should go over, now that I think about it.” “Such as Rufus,” Claudius asked? “Casting the spear is also an effective use of the weapon. After you have done the four-point drill with the spear, for two days, try casting it into that piece of wood I buried in the sand. Start at ten paces distant. When you can hit the post, ten times in succession, around chest high, move away ten more paces and do the same thing. Do this until the

distance, from the post, is one hundred paces. This may take some time; but it will come, oh, and don’t forget, full armor and equipment at all times.” Claudius did as he was instructed and within a few days, he had learned to manipulate the spear quite well, and within six days, he could hit the post, every time, at one hundred paces. It had been a full market interval since he had seen Rufus at the log. Although he did see him almost every evening. There was always a lot of chatter at the table especially after some watered wine, but Rufus never discussed any aspect of Claudius’ training regimen. It was always on the beach that Rufus would share his vast knowledge of techniques. It was here that Claudius received answers to his questions. “You must be able to read my mind Rufus. You seem to be able to speak on some training point that I had been thinking about, before I actually ask the question.” “It may seem that way Claudius: but the truth is, when I was in training, I asked those very same questions, so really, all I am doing is remembering what puzzled me. Very well then, let me see what you have learned in the last eight months Claudius. Perform all of your drills with all of the equipment and with every weapon, starting and finishing at combat speed and I will observe.” “All of it Rufus?” “Yes Claudius, all of it.” Rufus watched with keen interest. The drills were performed flawlessly, without hesitation. Rufus even had difficulty following some of the movements, due to the blurring speed with which, they were carried out. After completing the last drill, with the spear, Claudius dropped to one knee and said with gratitude, “You are a good teacher Rufus and I hope I am half as good as my instructor.” Rufus broke into an enthusiastic applause. “Claudius, Claudius you have done a superb job in teaching yourself. Yes that’s right. You taught yourself and you should be proud. I only showed you what to do. You have turned it into perfection, which is very heartening to these old eyes. Congratulations, you are the first graduate of ‘The School of Rufus’.” They both laughed at this. “From today on, the drills are over. Now we will spar and you will use your own creativity to develop your skill. I have my own technique, but perhaps you will teach an old dog some new tricks, eh Claudius. I will bring different weapons, every so often, so your technique will vary out of necessity, which is good. An opponent, if he is alert, can sense your technique easily, if it is repetitious. By always varying your technique, you keep your opponent uncertain and off balance. Do you see Claudius?” “I understand what you mean Rufus, it makes sense.” “Today I brought a wooden sword and a shield. We shall begin with those.” Every day, as Claudius completed his warm-up, he expected to see Rufus sitting on the driftwood log. He was never disappointed. Rufus was always there. Often they would chat for a while before they began their sparring. On this particular day, before their sparring match began, Rufus spoke of emotions. “You must always control your emotions Claudius. This is of the utmost importance. They must be as well conditioned as your body. If your opponent senses an emotional weakness, he will use it against you.” As the word “you” left Rufus’ tongue, as quickly as the strike of a viper, Rufus slapped Claudius across the face, a stinging blow.

Claudius instant reaction was blazing anger. Without thinking he drew back to strike back at Rufus, but held his hand as Rufus calmly awaiting the reaction that never came. “I apologize to you Claudius, it hurt me more than you know, to do that, but do you see what I mean about emotion?” “I forgive you old friend, and yes, I do see. If I lose my temper, it could cost me much more than a sting from a slap in the face.” Rufus just smiled knowing he had illustrated his point in the best possible way. “Exactly”, Rufus said. “There is one technique I want to show you Claudius. It usually only works on someone very unskilled, but it is still worth knowing. It was used on novice gladiators and it never failed to produce a laugh on the training campus. Let me show you. Assume battle stance and grip your sword as usual, thumb on top. Now observe,” grabbing the wooden sword and wrenching it upward Rufus easily stripped the sword from Claudius’ hand. Handing the sword back to Claudius, Rufus said, I will do it slowly. You saw how I could take your weapon by knowing where your thumb was positioned. If I tried to wrench the blade downward, into four fingers I could not have done it at all. One thumb holding as opposed to four fingers holding, gives a very different outcome. Of course you must remember, a real sword is sharp and you could be cut, badly. In view of this, that maneuver is a desperation tactic. Here is another. It is related to the one I just showed you. Again, I will do it at battle speed. Take your stance and make a thrust at my belt”. As Claudius did, Rufus parried the thrust and in the same motion rotated his stiffened arm in a wide arc. A stunned, open-mouthed Claudius watched his weapon go flying away, off to his left, the wooden sword landing some distance down the beach. “That was amazing Rufus. Please show me that one slowly.” He did show him and after a few practice tries, Claudius could perform the disarming trick. “Here is another Claudius. Make a downward stroke to my head or neck area, slowly, because this could cause injury.” As Claudius did this, Rufus brought his shield up the shield’s top edge to make contact with Claudius’ wrist. The touch was light but Claudius could feel the sword slip slightly from his grip. “Yes Rufus, I see. If we were at battle speed, my sword would be gone and my wrist would probably be broken.” “That’s correct Claudius, that’s exactly what would happen. All these delicate maneuvers require excellent timing and reflexes. Young men like you can attempt them. Old men like me can’t take the risk, we just aren’t fast enough.” That evening at the supper table, Galbus was in attendance and had obviously had several cups of wine before sitting down to eat. “Ho Rufus, I was walking behind you and Claudius when you crossed the yard after leaving the beach this evening. You didn’t see me so I was able to observe a very curious thing.” “And what might that curious thing be, old friend and cousin?” “You and Claudius walk exactly alike, it’s like watching someone after too much wine, you know, seeing double. It was very much like watching two cats walking sideby-side looking for mice. I believe I will now call you the ‘Meow Brothers’ from now on. Yes, that’s it the ‘Meow Brothers’.” How quickly that term spread through the shipyard amazed even Galbus. Rufus and Claudius were the object of many catcalls, in the weeks

that followed, but they always laughed at themselves too, and the nickname was soon forgotten. Claudius even took it as a compliment for he had often thought that Rufus walked like a stalking animal and indeed, after all, a cat was a stalking animal. The training was going extremely well. Almost a year had passed since it began. Claudius was a superb swordsman. He was a match for Rufus, which Rufus would readily admit, but only to Claudius. At the table Rufus would say “Oh, I had to let him win today, just to keep his spirits up, but I will best him tomorrow.” After Claudius had heard this comment a few times, he called Rufus to task about it. After their next sparring session, which entailed a particularly spirited workout, Claudius seemed disheartened. “There is something troubling you Claudius. Would you care to tell me what it is?” “Yes Rufus, I am troubled, it has to do with you letting me win. You must not coddle me Rufus. If I am to learn, you must give me your very best effort every time we spar. If you do not, how will I ever learn not to be defeated?” Pausing to think for a moment, Rufus replied, “You are absolutely right Claudius, please forgive my disrespect. From now on I will definitely try to kill you, although it will be difficult with a wooden sword.” Claudius caught the humor in the statement and was able to laugh at himself, along with Rufus. Immediately, on a more serious note, Rufus said, “I promise I will give you my very best effort from now on Claudius,” and he did. For months afterward, their sparring matches would end with Rufus’ blade touching a vital point on Claudius’ body, but it was obviously becoming more and more difficult for that to happen. One day Claudius executed a new tactic that he had been working on, which was unknown to Rufus. This time the match went to Claudius and ended with his sword touching a vital spot on Rufus’ body. “Well done Claudius. I would like to learn that one myself.” “There is one aspect of your training that I have saved until now, Claudius. It may well be the most important of all the techniques we have practiced.” “What is it Rufus?” Claudius said excitedly, “I thought we had covered everything?” “It is about instinct Claudius. It is about something that can’t be taught. Very simply, you either have it or you don’t.” “How will I know if I have it or not, Rufus?” “There is only one way to find out Claudius. You must spar with me blindfolded!” The silence was deafening. “Rufus how is it possible to block and parry when you can’t see?” “As I said, it is done by instinct. You must use your senses and more importantly, you must trust what you sense. Here, I brought some blindfolds. We will put them on and spar. Not at usual battle speed but slower to start and going faster as we progress.” Putting on his blindfold and indicating Claudius should do the same, Rufus said, “Let us begin.” At first Claudius was reluctant to strike at Rufus, but then he realized that Rufus was successfully countering his every move. “Rufus you can do it, extremely well.”

“Yes, not bad. It has been a long time.” Stepping back and removing the blindfold he said, “Well Claudius do you think you could do it? Remember, you must use all your senses to predict what is going to happen. Those senses can be sharpened and developed to a fine degree. A blind person, robbed of sight, develops his other senses to a higher degree. This is how you must think. Try closing your eyes and see with your mind”. Doing as Rufus bade him, Claudius closed his eyes and tried to experience his senses. “I see what you mean Rufus. I can hear and smell the sea. I can feel the coarseness of the sand under my feet. I feel the heat of the sun on my back. Is this what you mean? ” “Yes Claudius. That is exactly what I mean. ” It didn’t take long for Claudius to perfect the sightless technique. Blindfolded, he learned to sense a coming blow and deflect it harmlessly. The two would often don their blindfolds and practice this technique even surprising themselves at their own proficiency. Rufus once remarked, “What we have learned these past weeks can be a life saver Claudius, especially in battle when you have to sense an unseen threat. Your proficiency at this drill will help to keep you from being blind-sided.” The long awaited day came. A year and a half had passed since Rufus’ tutelage had begun. Claudius was now adept with sword, shield and spear. He could run swim, and fight with exceptional skill. Rufus was more than pleased that Claudius had learned his lessons so well. “I applaud you Claudius. I can teach you no more. With what you now know, you need never again fear a man with a sword. Now that you possess these skills, you know, the only way to keep them is to practice. Do the drills to maintain your skills. What will you do with this knowledge Claudius?” “I don’t exactly know Rufus, what the future holds is a mystery, but I feel I am much better prepared for it than I was before.” The future was about to take a decided turn for the worse.

Chapter V Rufus Flavius Polinus He could smell the wolf before he could see him; an earthy feral smell, the odor of something wild and unclean, the smell of a being that kills to survive, the smell of death. It was misty that day. The thick fog obscured the sun and hovered at ground level, swirling with the movement of the herd of sheep. Rufus loved tending the sheep. He thought it a great honor for his father to trust him with so great a responsibility, at so young an age. The thought of how his friends looked up to him filled his mind and then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Did he imagine it or did he see movement? Then he saw him, a large gray beast, a male wolf, moving with the swirling mist. Appearing like a shadow wherever the fog thinned. Stopping, waiting, sniffing the air. Stalking, looking for the easy kill, a lamb or an older ewe. The Shepard boy could see the yellow eyes of the wolf, as its gaze kept returning to look at him, the human, the only obstacle between him and his prey. The sheep were also aware of the wolf. They bleated noisily and moved restlessly, in close to the boy; he being their only protection from the sudden death, that lurked in the fog. The boy could sense the herd’s fear as it mingled with his own. The only weapon he had was his shepherd’s staff, a woefully inadequate weapon against a wolf. It gave him little comfort as he gripped it, knuckles white, trying to keep the wolf in view as he stalked the herd, through the swirling mist. Then the boy remembered, tucked inside his tunic, a small dagger, in a sheath, his father had given him, two days ago, on the occasion of his tenth birthday. He groped for it in the folds of his tunic, just as the wolf struck. It was a blur of a snarling gray mass, bowling him over in a nightmare of fur, claws and fangs. He knew the wolf was searching for his throat, as they grappled. He could feel the hot breath of the beast on his face. He felt powerful jaws, puncturing the skin on his neck and clamping down on his windpipe. He remembered thinking; this is how a sheep feels as it gives its life to the jaws of a wolf. Just as he began to lose consciousness, his small hand found the hilt of the dagger. Pulling it free of his tunic, he plunged it into the side of the wolf, again and again, with all his strength. He could feel the blood, warm, sticky as it flowed over his hand, soaking the sleeve of his tunic. Then all went very dark and he felt himself drifting into darkness. “Rufus, Rufus, are you all right?” He could feel himself being shaken and hear his father’s voice. Opening his eyes, he realized he could see the sky, smell the earth, and he knew he was still alive. “What happened father, the wolf, where is he?” “Be still now son. You have killed the wolf Rufus, he lies over there, dead. Your little dagger is still buried in his chest.” “Why then, am I all covered in blood,” the boy said, as he looked down at his tunic? Looking him over carefully and cleaning away some of the blood, his father said, “You only have some small puncture wounds on your neck Rufus, otherwise you are all right. All this blood belongs to the wolf.” “I did it father, I protected the sheep, I am grown-up.” “You did my son. I was right to trust in you, my brave little boy.”

He didn’t know how to be a hero, yet here he was. Ten years old, having triumphed over a beast feared by all who tend to their flocks. One market interval after the classic battle, the villagers gathered to celebrate Rufus’ victory. He was the guest of honor at a feast provided by contributions from all the local herd owners. His father had taken a fang from the dead wolf’s jaw and had a local artisan edge it with silver and fasten it to a silver chain. This he presented to Rufus at the start of the festivities, all cheered lustily, to honor Rufus’ bravery and the feasting began. Rufus was embarrassed by all the attention, yet he was also thrilled at the same time. People he hardly knew were thumping him on the back and praising him for his bravery. Some villagers, who had never given him so much as a glance, now seemed to act as though they had been his best friend for years. He was a little awed by it all and he had to admit to himself, he liked it. The celebration went on far into the night, and as every ten year old was want to do, he fell asleep long before the celebration ended. He slept that night holding his wolffang trophy clutched in a boy’s small hand. The Polinus family lived in the Umbro River valley in the Italian province of Etruria. His father, an ex-legionnaire, had been given a parcel of land as a reward for long and faithful service to the great Roman general Pompey Strabo. The twenty iugerum of land, on a large grassy plain, with easy access to water, had made the raising of sheep an easy choice to make. The venture had flourished and prospered over twenty years and made Rufus’ father very comfortable, financially. Robilus Actilanus Polinus was not a wealthy man, but he was respected, in their close-knit community of sheep ranchers and he was well liked. Rufus was the youngest of three children. Simina, thirteen was the oldest and the middle brother Favio was twelve, his mother’s name was Martilla. Rufus had been allowed to tend the sheep at a much younger age than his brother. Even as a small child, he had been fearless. No animal seemed to frighten him, even threats from older larger children, didn’t seem to overly concern him much. His father had attempted to have him schooled, and paid a considerable sum for the privilege. It wasn’t as though Rufus didn’t like school, he did. It was the teachers he had difficulty with. All would be well until some silly rule was instituted or the many were punished for the offenses of a few. When these injustices occurred, Rufus lost interest. Once he lost interest, boredom set in and he would invent pranks to liven up the class atmosphere. This pattern kept up for almost two years. Initial interest, then the upheaval, and then a change of schools. The last school Rufus attended was the most short-lived. Now almost twelve, he chanced to enroll in a class in which the teacher believed in corporal punishment. It was an “aide to learning”, the teacher said. The students ranged in age from nine to fourteen and this particular pedagogue would strike a child for any academic or behavioral infraction. The older the child, the stronger the blow. The punishment was administered with a short stick about two feet long and as thick as a man’s thumb. On one occasion, of a particularly difficult problem in mathematics, the teacher struck a boy, younger than Rufus, on the back of the neck. Although average height for his age, Rufus had developed stronger than normal legs and

arms, due to his life of caring for sheep. The boy who had been struck seemed to be in a lot of pain and began to cry. In one swift motion, without thinking, Rufus was upon the teacher, who was taller than Rufus, but slim of build. Snatching the stick from the teacher’s hand and putting a choke hold on him, Rufus whispered in the man’s ear in a very deadly, quiet sort of way, “If you ever strike anyone in this class again, I will shove this stick so far up your ass it will come out your nose. Do you understand Malitinus? Oh you can’t answer because I’m choking you; then just nod your head you donkey.” Malitinus just nodded and Rufus released him. Gasping for air, and gagging, the teacher stepped away and sat down heavily on one of the empty benches. There was no sound in the room, only the gasping of Malitinus. Very calmly and with as much authority as he could muster, Rufus said, “I believe that will be all the classes for today students. Class is dismissed!” Their village being small, the story spread very rapidly. As soon as his father heard of it, Rufus was called to account. “Well son, tell me what happened this time?” Rufus did just that. After hearing the tale his father said, “Your version lines up very well with the story I heard and I must say, I admire your courage in taking a stand. You were right in your thinking, but you were wrong in your action Rufus.” “What would you have done father? Wouldn’t you have tried to stop the abuse?” “Yes, I would have, but instead of choking the teacher, I would have brought it to the attention of the village magistrate, for his ruling. Although I must admit Rufus, your method may have a lasting affect on old Malitinus. Rufus, Rufus, what am I going to do with you? Well at least you have learned something in all these years of schooling. You can read and write, you know something about numbers and history, I guess we can take you out of school and put you to work tending our sheep full time.” “I would much prefer that than going to school father.” As Rufus grew into his mid-teens, the strenuous nature of his work helped him to develop a strong physique. He was of average height but it was his legs and upper body that made him appear formidable and older than he really was. He was one of those boys who excelled at anything physical, without even trying; a natural athlete. The long days of sheep tending gave him time to experiment with different physical things just to pass the time. He fashioned a spear from a sapling and a piece of slate and practiced hour after hour, casting and retrieving the spear. He could strike a tree, at a hundred paces, ten out of ten times. When he tired of the spear, he fashioned a sling out of a piece of leather and some sheepskin. Using rocks, he again practiced long and hard and taught himself how to use it. He found the sling to be much more difficult to learn than the spear, but he persisted. When he discovered that subtle little thing that turns failure into a success, he became as proficient with the sling as he had with the spear. He could drop a running rabbit with rarely a miss. He would often walk through the door, after a day tending sheep, and drop two rabbits at the threshold of the kitchen. His mother Martilla would say, “Ah Rufus, I guess its rabbit stew for dinner tonight?” He would gut and skin the animals then his mother would prepare the most delicious stew. It became Rufus’ favorite meal. Being the younger brother, Rufus, at fourteen was a tag-along. The village near their farm was small and offered little in the way of entertainment, so on occasion, Rufus, his older brother and several of his cousins, would make a day trip to Cortona a large

town about fifteen miles to the north. It was always a good time with good food, laughter, teasing and the raucous behavior young boys love to engage in. The group of four had reached the center of the city and decided to stop at an inn for a bite to eat. After they had ordered their food and eaten, they were just sitting at a table outside the tavern, enjoying watching the passersby and drinking in the flavor of the big city. “It makes our little village seem like it’s half asleep,” said Rufus. Then there were the girls. Most of the girls their age were with their mother or some older woman. The boys didn’t’ make any comments to them, but they did notice the girls noticing them back. With the older girls, especially the unescorted ones, their jibes created quite a stir. The girls giggled and made a feigned effort to ignore them but secretly loved the attention paid. This pretended aloofness made the game even more fun. Later that afternoon, as the boys were ambling along, thinking about starting their return trip to their village, Favio noticed a group about the size of their own. “Look Rufus, there’s Fallax and some of his friends from our village.” The group, just encountered, was a few years older than our four. The older boys always ignored the younger ones. A subtle way to emphasize their insignificance. Rufus could see the other older boys nudging each other and pointing toward them, as they recognized who they were. Their leader, Fallax, was the one to address the younger group when he spoke. “Ho, whelps, what brings you to the big city? There are no sheep here for you to tend.” Rufus could sense trouble brewing, and taking stock of the situation, he decided that if Fallax were neutralized, the others probably wouldn’t act on their own. With no response from Rufus or the other boys, Fallax pressed his harangue a little further. “Rufus, it is Rufus, isn’t it? My friends and I have been thinking. When you come into town we never see you with any women. My friends and I come here to enjoy the favors of women. Why don’t you?” “We come here for food and entertainment and besides, what business is it of yours, Fallax?” Rufus answered. Thinking he had cleverly maneuvered the younger group into a confrontation, Fallax continued. “Well Rufus, you know, all men must sow some seed, sooner or later and I don’t believe you have a wife, so I am curious, how do you prove you are a man? Do you wet your wick in the back end of a sheep, you and your friends here?” The older group all guffawed at the insult and at the same time, two of the older group moved left and right in a circling maneuver. “You know what they say Rufus, once you’ve had a sheep, you never want a woman. So it’s logical to me. Seeing you have no woman, you must be married to a sheep. That’s it, Rufus the ram loves his sheep, baa, baa Rufus, baa, baa.” The older boys were now holding their sides and laughing so hard they were in tears. Rufus waited for the laughter to subside a bit and said, “Yes Fallax, you are right. I have seen the asshole of a sheep, many times, and you know what?” “What Rufus the ram, what?” “The asshole of a sheep looks exactly like your mouth. In fact, if I saw the two, side by side, I wouldn’t know where to put my wick, in your mouth or in the sheep’s asshole.” Now it was the younger group who were laughing through tears. This so incensed Fallax that he bellowed like a bull and charged at Rufus, his eyes full of hate. Rufus easily sidestepped the rush and delivered a powerful punch to the

stomach. As Fallax doubled over, from the force of the blow, Rufus went into a half squat and brought his elbow crashing down on the back of Fallax’ neck. It rendered him on the ground, unconscious. As Rufus had correctly guessed, the others lost their nerve and backed warily away. “When he wakes up tell him he was hit by a ram. Come on boys, let’s head for home.” As they walked away Favio turned to Rufus and said, “Rufus, you know Fallax is the only son of our village magistrate don’t you?” “Yes I know brother; but he started it and he got what he deserved, so I don’t regret what I did. Bullies always get what they deserve Favio. It had now been nearly a year since Rufus’ encounter with Fallax and he had heard nothing about it. The passage of time had erased the event from Rufus’ memory. One evening, the family was enjoying a meal of rabbit stew. The dinner conversation was centered on the ever-increasing problem of wolves raiding the local herds and creating a major cause for concern. All the herds except the Polinus herd’ were losing sheep at an alarming rate. The consortium of herd owners wanted to do something but no one had come forward with a workable plan. “I can’t figure it out. We might lose a sheep here and there but not to the magnitude that the other owners have been complaining about. What do you think about it Rufus?” “I see very little evidence of wolves father, although I do keep them in check with my sling. Perhaps I could do the same for the other herds. If our cousin Galbus could assume my duties with our herd, I could hunt the wolves across the whole valley. I believe I could be successful in at least slowing down the slaughter, if not stopping it altogether.” His father looked at his fifteen year old boy, then, thinking better of it, he looked at the man. Powerfully built and now as tall as he was, Robilus thought, indeed, my boy has grown into a man, right before my eyes. “Rufus, you may have hit on the solution to this problem. Let me put it before the consortium and see what they think. I will call a meeting for tomorrow night.” And so it was, Rufus, at fifteen years of age, became the official wolf hunter for the entire valley. The council agreed upon it, Rufus would be paid one silver denarius for each wolf pelt he brought in. On a sunny day, in late summer, after gathering some necessary supplies, Rufus gave his cousin Galbus charge of his father’s herd and set off to rid the entire valley of wolves. He knew this venture could take time. He would have to seek out dens and destroy the inhabitants. He would have to live in the wild and become a wolf to do his job properly. This was exactly what he did. He earned to live off the land hunting and gathering what food he needed. He became lean and sinewy, even sprouted the semblance of a beard. The skeptics to Rufus’ plan were soon silenced. Within two market intervals, he had bagged six wolves, two males and four females. He delivered the pelts to the herd owner’s consortium and they were more than happy to pay his fee.

“The wolves are getting harder to find father. I may be gone quite a while this time. I may even have to slaughter some sheep to bait the wolves and entice them to come; but I will only do that if absolutely necessary.” Rufus scoured the hills, from sun-up to sundown, for days on end and saw very little wolf activity. There were no sheep carcasses, no wolf droppings, no tracks; no sign to even suggest that any wolves were present. He headed up into the mountains, higher than he had ever gone before. He saw wild mountain sheep but no sign of wolves. After four days of trying he was finally able to bag two wolves. He hunted for several more days with no success. He decided to take the pelts back to the village. When he presented the two pelts, the owners were still in a state of frenzy. Sheep were still disappearing from the herds, at an alarming rate. That evening, as he met with his father over dinner, his father said, “The council of owners are still complaining Rufus. They are saying that maybe you aren’t the salvation for the herds that they thought you were. I heard a rumor that they are looking around for another hunter.” “I do understand their concern father. They are still losing sheep and I haven’t fully solved the problem. I must admit, something doesn’t seem right about this whole matter. I am going to suspend the hunting and do some investigating. I will find the cause of the missing sheep, and if it is wolves that are responsible, I will kill them. Tell no one of my plans, it will be better that way.” He started with the herd that was furthest away from the village, and worked his way back. He spoke to the shepherds of each flock. Had they seen any wolves or evidence of them? What was the grazing range of the herd? What explanation did they offer for the missing sheep? The answers to these questions were always “no”, or, “I don’t know”. The herders seemed to be telling the truth, but he couldn’t be sure. One night, while sitting in front of his campfire, thinking, it struck him. He had been doing all of his investigating in daylight. Perhaps if he changed his tactics and investigated in the dark, his quest might bear fruit. His thinking proved to be correct. On the fourth night, of his change in plan, he had been scouting a particular herd, at some distance from it. The night was cool and the moon was obscured behind some passing clouds. That’s when he heard voices. Not being sure just where the voices were coming from, he moved in closer to the herd. He could now hear the voices clearly. When the clouds passed, the meadow was bathed in bright moonlight. He spotted three sheep, or what appeared to be sheep, moving stealthily toward the herd. Ah, what have we here? It looks like two legged sheep, he thought. The three figures separated and entered the herd at different points and moved smoothly through it. It didn’t take long before the pretenders emerged, each followed by several sheep. The real sheep stopped every so often to eat something from the ground and continued to follow the two legged ones off, into the night. Rufus followed also. When the small herd was far enough from the main herd, the men threw off their disguises, rolled them up and stuffed them into backpacks and began driving the sheep toward the hills. In the moonlight, Rufus could see them clearly, and followed at a safe distance.

A good distance into the hills, the three men stopped for the night, built a fire and made camp. Rufus could see two of them lay down to sleep while the third kept watch. Rufus decided to try to get some sleep as well. He awoke in the morning to the sound of the men breaking camp. He followed them all that day, into and over the mountains. The men finally arrived at a narrow rocky gorge that wound through the downward slope of the mountains. At the end of the gorge there was a large cave. The cave was so well hidden that Rufus didn’t even know it was there until the men were almost upon it. As the herd approached, one of the men ran ahead to open a sturdy fence placed across the entrance to the cave. The other two men drove the sheep inside. Rufus stealthily moved in to try to overhear what was being said. “The cave is full Gordus, you will stay here tonight and guard the sheep. Tamilius will contact our agent in Sena and tell him to come and get his sheep. I will return to the village to see if all is quiet.” That voice sounds familiar, thought Rufus. I must risk being discovered to get a good look at these three. When he realized who it was, he was not at all surprised. I never did trust that Fallax, first a bully and now a thief, he thought. Very clever, these three. They steal the sheep, a few at a time. Sell them to someone in a town far away, blame it on the wolves and no one’s the wiser; that is until now. He knew the information he now possessed was very damming and potentially dangerous. I must handle this correctly, he thought. My father will know what to do. Upon returning home, he and his father made sure of their privacy, while Rufus related the nature of the plot, he had uncovered, leaving out no detail. “This news is very unsettling Rufus. Fallax is not just another thief, he is Publius Municus’ son. We cannot just accuse him without ironclad proof. We must be very patient with this and handle it very carefully. I will go to Sena myself and make some discrete inquiries. I know a few officials there and they can be trusted. After I confer with them, we will know what to do. Tell no one of this Rufus.” It took three market intervals, but Robilus got the proof he needed. Upon returning, he and Rufus went over the details, put together a plan of action and arranged a meeting of all the herd owners for two days later. The meeting was convened and called to order; Robilus stood to address the group. “Esteemed herd owners and members, tonight I have some disturbing news to reveal to you. We have all been concerned about our missing sheep, have we not?” All murmured in assent. “We have all thought that wolves were responsible, did we not?” More murmuring amongst the gathering. “Well my friends, it turns out that, it is wolves that have been raiding our sheep, two legged wolves.” Now the murmuring turned to shouting and yelling. Fiscus, the wealthiest of the owners stood and again called for order. “Robilus, what exactly do you mean by your statement?” “I have every reason to believe that three men from our village, namely Fallax, Gordus and Tamilius have been stealing our sheep. They steal a few at a time, collect

them into a herd and sell them to a broker in Sena and they have been doing it for some time” The group gasped in surprise and most were speechless. “Do you have proof of these charges Robilus?” Fiscus asked. “These are very serious accusations. To accuse our magistrate’s son of stealing is shocking, to say the least.” “Yes Fiscus, I have proof.” At this point all was confusion and shouting. No one observed, a man named Sordidus, slip silently out a rear door of the meetinghouse and head off into the night. Robilus raised his hands for quiet, and after a few minutes the group calmed. Robilus continued. “I have the testimony of a trader, in Sena. He has seen Fallax, and the other two, negotiating with a known thief, who receives the stolen animals and then sells them to the highest bidder. I will not divulge this mans name just yet. I can have him here in two days to testify against these thieves.” Fiscus then asked, “This man who is to testify, why is he doing this. What has he to gain?” “I told him there would be a reward for his testimony. I believe we can pool our resources to reward him. It seems a small price to pay for the solution to our missing sheep problem. Also there is my son Rufus. He observed these three steal the sheep. He followed them and overheard them reveal their plan and how they accomplish it. They were even wearing sheepskins so as to not be noticed by the shepherds on watch when they carried out their clever plan.” The group was incredulous at this latest piece of news and angry that the thieves were from their own village. After many side discussions and much grumbling the meeting adjourned with all in agreement to Robilus’ plan of action. Meanwhile, having left the meeting without being seen, Sordidus made his way to the house of Fallax’ father, Publius Manlius Municus, the village magistrate. His power came directly from Rome. He could adjudicate, prosecute and convict those accused and he had the power of life and death over those convicted. He could summon soldiers from the garrison at Cortona to enforce his rulings. He was the power of Rome at a local level. “You have done well Sordidus. I am in your debt. This information will allow me time to prepare a defense for my son and conceive of a way out of this dilemma. You will say nothing of our meeting, agreed?” “Oh yes Publius. I don’t even know what meeting you are speaking of,” he said, with a sly wink. Two days later the meeting was called. Publius, his son Fallax and the other two accused youths were summoned to appear before the herd owner’s council, to answer some serious charges. After Robilus read the charges, Publius was given a chance to respond. Publius mounted the rostra where Robilus was standing. He was resplendent in a dazzling white toga, while Robilus was attired in a simple plain tunic. As Publius turned to address the assemblage, for its effect, he grasped the fold of his toga just above the right breast taking the classic stance of a Roman official asserting his authority. “Distinguished members of this august body. I know these charges sound serious, and they are; but I assure you, I can explain. The real culprit in this deplorable situation is none other than Rufus Polinus.”

With this the crowd gasped and everyone turned to look at Rufus. He and his father are stunned. “I will explain further,” Publius added. “After speaking with my son and his companions, they tell me that Rufus was the mastermind for this entire scheme. It turns out he was becoming an unpopular leader, and the group decided they wanted Fallax to take over as leader. This conflict in the ranks led to a dispute. Out of revenge, Rufus has informed on them seeming to appear blameless in the entire operation. All three are willing to testify against him. Furthermore, all the wolves Rufus supposedly killed, were actually killed by Tamilius. As you all know Tamilius is a skilled archer. If you closely inspect the wolf pelts Rufus redeemed, for silver, you will find an arrow mark in each one. I believe there are eight such pelts, stored in this very building.” “I will take a look”, shouted one of the owners, and quickly departed to do so. He returned shortly and verified that there indeed was a mark of an arrow in each wolf pelt. Now the crowd was starting to murmur. Publius, being a good orator and also realizing he now had the crowd in the palm of his hand, continued, “Also, conscript fathers, I have been informed that the person from Sena, who was to testify here, has been arrested. It seems he has also been involved with stolen sheep and he will be tried in Sena for his crimes. So now it would seem that this neat little conspiracy package, put together by Robilus and Rufus has become unraveled. In so doing they have lied and cheated for their own gain.” The crowd, believing they had been duped, started to murmur and become angry and unruly. Seemingly unshaken, but boiling inside, Robilus calmly asked Publius, “And what of your son and his friends? How will you punish them for their crimes?” “My son, and his accomplices will serve one year at hard labor in the rock quarries of Baralina. For being the ringleader, Rufus will serve five years at the same place. That is how I will rule in this case.” Robilus, losing all sense of calm, could contain his anger no longer. Lunging at Publius, he grabbed a handful of the dazzling white toga and drew back a fist to land a blow to the jaw of the surprised official, while growling at Publius, “You own the rock quarries you pompous ass.” Then the unspeakable happened. Fallax, prepared for just such an occurrence, produced a dagger from beneath his tunic and plunged it into Robilus’ chest. The thrust would have been instantly fatal had it not been deflected by a rib bone, but nonetheless, Robilus fell to the floor, gravely wounded. At almost the same instant, Rufus drew his small dagger and moved so quickly, no one could stop him. He plunged the blade into Fallax, again and again, just as he had with the wolf so many years ago. Fallax was quite dead when he fell to the floor. Many pairs of hands laid hold of Rufus and held him. Publius, livid at the fate of his son, and turn of events brought his face so close to Rufus’ their noses were almost touching. “You will pay dearly for what you have done to my son,” he snarled, in a most chilling way. Then, by order of Publius, Rufus was led away, to prison. The so-called trial was quickly convened and it was a sham. Gordus and Tamilius testified against Rufus and were sentenced to serve their year in the rock quarry. Rufus was condemned to death by crucifixion for the murder of Fallax. This was the ruling by chief magistrate of Rome, Publius Manlius Unicus. Rufus was held in a small building attached to the council meetinghouse. Its door was a stout oaken affair with huge iron hinges, well designed to keep anyone out and

anyone in. There was one tiny window with an iron grillwork, very high up on the south facing wall. There was virtually no way to escape. However, what his captors never anticipated was the resolve of Rufus’ brother Favio. Rufus had not slept at all. He had paced most of the night wondering about his father and agonizing over his coming punishment. In the utter darkness he heard, or rather he felt a pebble strike the earthen floor next to his bed. Finding the pebble, he tossed it back up toward the window it had come from. On the second try, he knew the pebble had gone back through the opening. The next missile was a larger stone with a strong thin cord attached to it. Rufus retrieved the stone and carefully pulled on the cord. Making as little sound as possible he pulled the cord into his cell. Working in complete darkness he felt and retrieved a small package. The package was wrapped and tied in such a fashion as to allow it to easily pass through the grillwork of the window. Rufus untied the bundle and quickly determined the contents of the package. He felt the hilt of his small dagger, his sling and four rounded stones about the size of figs. He smiled to himself in the darkness. He gave the cord two strong tugs and felt it being pulled upward and heard a slight whisking sound as it passed back through the window. Two days later, three soldiers from the Cortona garrison, arrived to escort Rufus to the city they had come from. It was decreed that, there on the prescribed date and time, Rufus would be crucified for his crimes. It was then that the Gods smiled on him. As one of the soldiers attempted to put iron manacles on the prisoner, the centurion in charge of the group ordered a hold. “Magistrate Publius requested that we bind him with this,” the man said, producing a soaking wet stout leather thong. “Why, what’s this?” The soldier asked? “Let me do it,” the centurion said. Wrapping Rufus’ wrists and hands tightly with the wet leather the centurion said, “It appears Publius wants this man’s suffering to begin now, and it will. When this thong dries out, it will shrink until it reaches bone. Do you understand what the Magistrate had in mind now?” he asked the attending soldier. “Yes, I see now,” replied the soldier, who had initially raised the question. “I see this Publius is a cruel man sir.” “Yes, you could say he is cruel, but if it was your son who was killed, by this prisoner, you would probably do likewise or worse. Enough chitchat, we must be on our way. I want to arrive at Cortona in time for supper.” The soldiers were on horseback and Rufus was placed in a mule drawn rolling wooden cage that had been built to transport prisoners. Rufus’ family was there his mother, brother and sister openly weeping. They were allowed no contact with him. All the family could do was wave and yell goodbye. “We will be there at the appointed time Rufus. May the Gods be with you,” Favio shouted. “What of father?” Rufus yelled back. “He clings to life Rufus. We don’t know for sure yet. Right now his life is in the lap of the Gods.” The procession slowly passed out of earshot and Rufus sat down to garner the strength he knew he would need in the coming hours.

The opportunity he had hoped for came as the sun was directly overhead in a cloud-less sky. The day was unusually hot and after covering half the distance to Cortona the soldiers were anxious to rest and refresh themselves. The detail arrived at a small stream that passed through a grassy meadow. The soldiers reigned in and dismounted to let the horses drink and graze while they sought the shade of some nearby trees. They all removed their helmets to get relief from the hot sun. The mule pulling the wagon cage, also trotted over to graze and drink from the stream. Rufus, realizing that the drying leather bindings were causing his hands to go numb, decided that this was the time to act. “I have to relieve myself,” he declared loudly, to the soldier nearest to him. Hearing this the centurion interrupted, “Piss where you stand killer. It won’t matter.” The soldiers all chuckled at this. “It is not piss I need to do. What I need to do will not be a very pleasant smell to mix with the food you are eating,” Rufus replied. The two other soldiers grumbled in agreement to this statement of fact. “Very well then, Cambinus, let him out of the cage. He can go behind those rocks over there. Just keep a close eye on him and if he attempts to escape, put your spear between his shoulder blades and make sure he is down wind of us.” Rufus squatted down behind a large rock, making sure his head and shoulders were visible to the guard. He also grunted a few times for effect. As expected the guard turned away to look out over the meadow. Rufus quickly found his small dagger and with some difficulty and no little pain, he managed to cut away the leather bindings. He vigorously massaged both wrists and immediately felt the numbness subside and circulation return to his hands and fingers. Next he fished out his sling, loaded a stone into it and silently stepped out from behind the rocks. The soldier who had been assigned to watch him was still turned away when Rufus let fly with the stone. The guard never knew what hit him. He was knocked unconscious and as he fell, he made no sound. The centurion and the other soldier were still sitting with their backs resting against separate trees. Rufus was able to get close enough to render the second soldier unconscious. By this time, the centurion realized what was happening and scrambled to retrieve his helmet and swiftly put it on, and drew his sword. The action was so quick, Rufus had no time to load and sling another stone. “So, the killer has gotten loose and knows how to use a sling, does he? Well killer, your sling is all but useless against my helmet and now, I will become the killer when I stick this sword between your ribs.” As he said this, he advanced menacingly. Rufus launched another stone but the centurion easily dodged it and began to run toward Rufus, rapidly closing the distance between them. Rufus retreated to where the first guard lay and retrieved the spear he had been carrying. With only an instant of time to heft the spear and gage the distance between them, Rufus launched the spear at the approaching centurion. The spear struck the running soldier in the right thigh and he went down in a heap. As quickly as a cat, Rufus was upon him. He retrieved the cast spear and leveled the tip at the centurion’s throat. “I can kill you where you lay soldier. Surrender your weapon and I will let you live.” Realizing he had little or no chance to resist, the centurion tossed his sword away and clutched his leg to stem the flow of blood. Rufus ripped a piece of cloth from the

tunic of the downed soldier and tossed it to the centurion. “Here you can bind your wound with this. It will help slow the bleeding somewhat.” “Where did you learn to throw the spear with such speed and accuracy? You are only a shepherd boy after all!” “I taught myself and today was the first time I ever used my skill on a man.” Keeping a wary eye on the wounded man, Rufus was able to retrieve the cage wagon and with some difficulty, he managed to get all three soldiers into it. Keeping one horse, he unsaddled the other two and turned them loose in the meadow. “I will leave you under these trees, out of the sun. I have provided food and water. Your weapons will be down the road a ways. I suspect when you don’t turn up at the prescribed time, someone will come to look for you. I don’t think you will be here very long. In any event, I will be long gone by the time you get loose. Well, I must be off to seek my fortune. I bid you farewell.” “They will catch you, you know, and when they do they will kill you.” “I have already faced death by crucifixion. Any other death would pale by comparison,” Rufus said as he rode away, back toward his village, laughing out loud. It was well past midnight when Rufus arrived at his home, all was quiet and everyone seemed to be asleep. He went directly to Favio’s window. Making as little noise as possible, he was able to rouse his brother. The two embraced, each very glad to see the other. “The little gift I sent you, I trust it helped you to escape Rufus. Was it hard to do?” “Without your little gift brother, I would not be standing here talking to you. I would be in a jail cell in Cortona waiting to die. Yes, there were a few anxious moments, but it all worked out in the end, and I didn’t have to kill anyone. How is father, has he improved at all?” “Actually he has Rufus. He is resting comfortably. The blade struck bone and was deflected. It didn’t penetrate far enough to be fatal. The physician said father was very fortunate to be alive. He has a very nasty gash, but otherwise he is alright.” “That is the best news I could have hoped for,” Rufus said. “Rufus, there is one more development you should know about. Do you remember a man named Sordidus?” “Yes, vaguely, but why, what has he to do with us?” He was at the council meeting when that accusation was made against Fallax and the others. Later that night he was seen leaving Publius’ villa. It doesn’t take much to put those two events together, does it?” “I think I see what you mean. Publius turned the tables on us because he had time to plan and figure a way to counter our every move. Then he just took control of the situation.” “Rufus, I believe we can frighten this Sordidus into admitting his complicity in this whole affair. He may even have some damming information on Publius.” “That plan may have some promise Favio. Bring our cousin Galbus with you when you go to talk with this Sordidus. The sight of him would strike fear into the heart of anyone. Now I must be off as quickly as I can. I am still a condemned man and I have to put as much distance between this place, and myself as I possibly can.”

“Would you go without saying goodbye to the father you defended my son”, a voice from the darkness said, softly. Robilus was there, holding on to the door jamb for support. “Father, you must not risk your life to get out of bed,” Rufus said. “Nonsense, it would take more than the likes of a Fallax to stop me, besides, I want to embrace you once more before you go son. After all, I may never see you again.” Rufus went to the old man and carefully hugged him. Robilus winced slightly but held his son in his arms. “I love you very much my son and I know you will do well in the legions.” “How could you know that is where I am headed father?” “I have known since the day you were born that you would find your place there and now it appears you will. Go now and be the best soldier you can be.” With a last kiss to his sleeping mother and sister and a last embrace for his brother, Rufus set out to seek his destiny in the Roman army. He traveled cross-country and avoided main roads. After four days travel he took a risk and stopped at the city of Arettium, but only long enough to sell the horse and buy provisions to carry him to Rome. He still had his small dagger and sling but kept them concealed. As far as anyone concerned, he was only a young traveler headed to Rome to seek his fortune. He learned that following the Tiber River would take him directly to the city. He camped each night on the banks of the river, by-passing any towns or villages. His sling kept him supplied with fresh rabbit meat and he arrived in Rome in good physical condition. As he approached the city, from the north, the rising sun was emerging over the horizon. The light reflecting off of the countless marble structures seemed to set the city ablaze in the whiteness of the reflected light. A giant white shimmering jewel set against the green land and the azure blue of the sky, caused Rufus to catch his breath. A slight mist hung over the city and the angle of the sunlight produced a rainbow. I have never seen anything so beautiful, he thought. He stood for a long time just marveling at the beauty of the sight. I want to enlist as soon as possible but indeed I must see some of this wondrous place first. So, Rufus entered the city through the Mulvian gate and became a tourist. Having no knowledge of where he was going, he just let the moving masses of people carry him along while he drank in the sights, absorbing the many flavors of the great urban sprawl. Each turn of a corner brought a new wonder into view. Temple after temple, each more beautiful than the last. Open-air markets, inns, offices, and shops, offering for sale, every ware imaginable. There were fountains, men in togas, women in brightly colored dresses, an endless number of street vendors, all types of animals, some pulling wagons. Litters, with people inside, concealed behind silken curtains being carried, by sweating slaves to wherever they were going. There were heralds announcing the news, armed soldiers patrolling the streets, people of every description, race and color shuffling along in a vast moving throng. He stopped at an outdoor tavern. He ate and drank and watched life, playing out before him, in the greatest city in the world. It was well past midday when he decided to seek out a recruiting station. It’s time I became a soldier, he thought. He asked two patrolling soldiers where such a place might

be. The two appeared to be grizzled veterans who looked him up and down when they heard his request. They looked at each other with knowing smiles and directed him to the Forum. The soldiers told him there were many recruiting stations throughout the city but the Forum, just around the corner, was the closest one. Following the given directions, Rufus found the Forum and also found it to be a fascinating place. It was a large open plaza with a ceremonial arch at one end and a temple to the Goddess Juno at the other. There were long multi-storied buildings on both sides, and thousands of people milling about in its center. It seemed everything was made of the beautiful white stone that glistened in the sun. Even the statues of heroes and famous people, were of the same stone. Not far from where he stood, marveling, there was a large wooden table set up. Seated at the table were two soldiers. One’s armor was more ornate than the other’s and both wore weapons but were without helmets. There was a bucket of scrolls next to the table and one soldier was asking each applicant questions, while the other wrote on a clay tablet. There was a long line of perhaps a hundred men waiting to apply, and the first in line was at the table speaking to the soldier with the fancy armor. Rufus moved near the table to try to overhear some of the conversation; “Name,” the uniformed soldier said? “Folmatus Vilbus, the applicant answered. “Are you eighteen years?” “I am twenty two.” “Ever served in the army before?” “No, never.” “Where are you from?” “Narbo, in the north.” “You have come a long way to serve. Report to the Campus Martius at sun-up tomorrow Vilbus. There are wagons to transport you there, you will see them identified throughout the city. They will run all night long. If you fail to report, as ordered, you will be considered a deserter. You will be hunted down and killed. Do you understand all that I have said Vilbus?” “Yes, I understand,” the young man said. “Good, then if you still want to join the legions, make your mark there,” the soldier said, handing him a stylus and clay tablet. The young man hesitated a moment, shrugged his shoulders, then made his mark on the tablet. “Next man in line,” the soldier seated at the table said. Rufus heard several more applicants state their information, and satisfied that he wouldn’t be closely questioned, he went to the back of the line. It was late in the afternoon by the time he reached the wooden table. He was nervous but tried to appear confident. He answered all the questions put to him, without reservation, received his instructions on where to report and made his mark on the clay tablet. He used his correct first and middle names using a slight alteration to his last name. The last name he chose to use was Pollinius. It was close to his real name of Polinus and he felt his choice would escape all but the most detailed scrutiny. He only spoke out once when he asked the officer in charge, “Are we being recruited to go to Africa to fight the rebel king Jagurtha?” The officer stopped what he was doing and looked up at Rufus. “What do you know of this Jagurtha,” the officer asked?

“Nothing really. It was a rumor in the village I came from. I was only curious if it was true.” “Well my fine young fellow, it is true. You are being recruited to form the Fourteenth Legion, Rome’s newest, commanded by the consul Marius. This is the first time in Rome’s history that the legion is recruiting from the general population and you are fortunate to be allowed to fight for her greatest general. He won’t get you killed, like some other generals might. You will also learn to use tools and to build things.” The two enlisting soldiers looked at each other and begin to laugh. The more they looked at each other, the more they laughed. Still laughing, the senior soldier shouted, “Next!”

Rufus adored the army and the army adored him. The rigorous physical training and the endless drills never bored him. He looked forward to whatever he was told to do and excelled at it. He remembered his first day of training in the use of the spear. “Any of you sons of bitches know how to throw a spear?” the centurion instructor barked. “I do,” Rufus answered, confidently stepping forward. The centurion, a squat bull of a man, who was obviously a seasoned veteran. He was not tall but looked very formidable with broad shoulders, hairy, muscular arms, and no evidence of any potbelly. He scowled at Rufus. “Oho, we have a volunteer and a cocky young rooster at that. Well, step up here and let’s see what you know young rooster, or maybe we’ll just call you chicken, after we see you throw this spear, eh?” Laughter rippled through the rank of recruits. He handed Rufus the weapon. It was a legionnaire’s pilum, a wicked looking affair. A long wood-metal shaft coming to a triangular point, designed to penetrate an enemy’s shield then bend, so it could not easily be dislodged, thereby rendering the shield useless. Rufus hefted the weapon, to find its balance point and waited. “See those wooden posts over there,” the centurion said, pointing to a row of logs buried in the ground? “Yes sir, I see them.” “They are about sixty paces distant, see if you can hit one.” “Which one do you want me to hit?” The centurion had been looking out toward the posts, turned back around to look at Rufus, hands on hips. “Oho, you are the cocky one, aren’t you? Very well then, hit the third one from the left. By the way, if you fail, I will punish your impertinence by having you empty all the camp shit holes, with a bucket and spoon, all by yourself, my fine mister rooster.” By now the exchange between Rufus and the old veteran had drawn the attention of some of the other groups. Rufus looked around. There were several trainers and several hundred trainees watching to see what would happen. “Would you like a practice throw? The instructor said. Without answering, Rufus drew back and cast the weapon. It struck the log with a thunk, as the point deeply penetrated the wood, chest high, in the third post from the left. A cheer went from the crowd of recruits observing the spectacle. Several trainees

stepped forward, patting Rufus on the back and congratulating him on an exceptional display of skill. “That was a superb throw”, the centurion said, handing Rufus another spear. “Can you do it again?” Rufus nodded. “The one in the middle, this time.” Again, Rufus hefted the weapon then threw it, striking the middle post about chest high. Another cheer went up from the assembled recruits. When the furor died down the centurion thumped Rufus on the back and said, “Well done son. Very few can do what you just did, twice in a row like that. As your reward you will become a group leader and take my place as instructor. You will show your men the correct way to cast the spear. Of course you will also have to complete your other training, but you can do that in your spare time.” And so it was, Rufus’ first command was as a trainer, in the Fourteenth Legion. As standard practice, he was given a century of recruits to train in casting the pilum. He was to train them until each man could hit the post at a distance of sixty paces. When that was accomplished, by each man, the entire century moved on to another phase of training. If any man was unable to achieve this goal, he was kept back to continue training with the coming group until proficiency was attained. There were always a few who could not cast the pilum, with accuracy, no matter how hard they tried. If this was the case, Rufus would inform his superiors and the individual would be sent to the cook tent, or to the medical tent, or become an orderly for an officer. In this way, a recruit not suited for combat would somehow find his niche in the army. Rufus excelled in all phases of training. If there were someone more adept at weapons than he, he would seek out that individual and ask for instruction. Once, having received this instruction, he would practice hour after hour, as long as it took, until he became more proficient than his teacher. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth legions, formed and trained under the command of the consul Gaius Marius, decamped and marched south along the Via Latina. In three days the army reached the port city of Puteoli. The two legions, auxiliaries and baggage, boarded a vast armada of ships and sailed through the straits of Messana to the port of Thabactis on the African coast. It was a sight Rufus would long remember. Upwards of twelve thousand men with all their equipment disembarking from ships to wage war. The unloading of heavy siege equipment took place at piers but space there was limited. The troops were ferried in from the ships at anchor. It was a plethora of sight and sound, but amid all the activity, there was order. Tribunes barked orders to centurions; Centurions relayed the orders to the troops and the troops carried out those instructions, to the letter. Here was the power of Rome. Out of potential chaos a well ordered plan to accomplish a task. The ability to change, and adapt and apply logic to the situation. No panic no indecision, just an incredible focus to accomplish the job. This was what made the Roman army the greatest fighting force the world had ever seen. As Rufus looked at the spectacle before him, he understood what power that discipline represented. He felt proud to be a part of it, and he knew at that moment that he had found a home. When his century was finally ashore, it was the last century of the cohort. The cohort was a new battle grouping the consul Gaius Marius had instituted; six centuries of

eighty men each. Ten cohorts made a legion and cavalry could be added or not as the situation required. What an impressive sight they were, as they formed up off the quay, the sun glistening off of burnished helmets, shields and spear points. Marius insisted on spit and polish and wouldn’t tolerate any form of uncleanness, therefore, when the army marched, all personal equipment was in splendid condition. The legions were in formation and at attention, waiting for the order to march, and when it came, the two legions stepped out, almost as one man. Metal, clanking against metal, wood and leather. A cadence of sound from the thousands of bodies, pacing in unison. The Fourteenth Legion moved forward, a distance down the road, to allow space for the auxiliaries, cavalry, and baggage. When sufficient space was available, the Thirteenth would stepped out and joined the column. When all was in place, the column stretched for five miles back along the road. Their destination was Cirta; the city recently captured and held by the rebel king Jagurtha and his armies. As a long bugle call sounded, the procession attained its final marching position and set off into the blazing heat of the African sun. The two legions marched steadily southward. After several miles, a halt was called and the men were allowed to remove their helmets. “Aah,” said Rufus, as he removed his helmet, “I thought my brains were going to cook in that metal pot they call a helmet.” A veteran legionnaire standing next to him said, “You’ll be glad you have that metal pot when some wild heathen is trying to split your skull open soldier.” “You are right old timer, one should have more respect for a thing that could save his life. Forgive my ignorance.” The man just nodded and turned away to tend to his own gear. As they rested Rufus gave closer inspection to his pack and the poles used to carry it. The pack was also a new idea of the general Marius. In addition to their weapons, shield and armor, each soldier carried a shovel, pack, mess kit, two poles fastened into a cross, cloak and canteen. The wood pole cross was the binding element for all of this and was carried, held by one or two hands and balanced on either shoulder. If attacked, the gear could easily be discarded and weapons brought to hand for battle. A Roman soldier was well practiced at digging and staking. When on the march, in enemy territory, a fortified camp, for the entire army, was built each evening. The camp was surrounded by a deep wide moat and wooden stockade. The dug earth provided a rampart and the wooden poles carried by each soldier, provided the stockade. Once darkness fell, the legion was well protected inside this formidable perimeter, designed and perfected, over the centuries, to afford maximum protection to Rome’s precious soldiers. The army’s journey to Cirta took seven days. As the column topped a rise, on the main road, the city came into view. It was a huge walled affair, with watchtowers at the four corners and a fifteen-foot stone edifice surrounding the entire city of sixty thousand. Rufus could see the sentries on the walls, scurrying back and forth, as the defenders sighted the approaching army. The Romans made their usual fortified camp, on a plain several miles distant from the city. All remained quiet throughout the night. The following day was a different story. There were two armed clashes between cavalry detachments as the Numidian horse ventured out of the city to test its mettle

against the Romans. The Numidians, being excellent horsemen, fared well and gave the Romans a sound thrashing in both encounters. Rufus’ billet was not far from the command tent. From his vantage point he could easily observe a beehive of activity. He caught glimpses of the great Marius and his officers as they entered and exited the command tent. On the morning of the third day, the two legions were assembled and were put through a number of drills, in full view of the enemy. This was done to intimidate the Numidians and display the military might of Rome. In the afternoon, the army of Jagurtha sallied forth and did the same thing, just outside the city walls. Rufus had to admit; they looked every bit as precise as the Romans. Jagurtha had fought alongside the Roman general Scipio, in Spain, and knew well, the tactics of the legions. There was also talk that, years earlier, Jagurtha had defeated a Roman army, under the command of Aulus Albinus, after which he made the mistake of committing a most heinous act. He forced the defeated Romans to pass under the “Yoke”, an act meant to thoroughly humiliate a vanquished foe. After hearing this, Rufus thought, I hope our general has not underestimated the enemy. We may have stepped into a hornet’s nest here. As usual, rumors were flying around the camp. The most likely one was that, an attempt at negotiations had broken down and it appeared that a battle for the city would take place soon. Rumor also said that Jagurtha had an army of fifty thousand housed inside the city. The Roman spies were uncertain of the exact count but their informers swore to the accuracy of that number. If this were true, it meant the Romans were outnumbered four to one. The atmosphere around the camp grew tense. The men became increasingly edgy and irritable. The enemy activity within the city had markedly increased. The battle loomed imminent. Two days went by, with only light skirmishing between patrols. The night of the second day the marching orders were given. At first light, the two legions would form up on a grassy plain, two miles distant from the city, and offer battle. The Roman battle plan had strategically been chosen to meet the enemy at the eastern gate of the city, where the rising sun would be directly in their eyes. As dawn broke, the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Legions stood in full battle array, facing the walls of Cirta. The troops were deployed in precise order. They looked almost like statues standing at attention waiting for orders. With their spear points bristling above their heads. A battle line of sixteen cohorts had been drawn up, each lesser rectangle sixty men across and eight men deep, with four cohorts in reserve. There were also cavalry, six hundred left and right of the front, the horses nervously pawing the earth, sensing the coming action. Lastly the archers, five hundred strong, quivers full of arrows, bows at the ready, waiting for the order to launch. Each soldier carried a breast to shin rectangular shield, shoulder width and slightly curved outward, the legion symbol painted on the front. A Boar for the Thirteenth, a Ram for the Fourteenth. The total array, a perfect, well-practiced killing machine. As the giant gates of Cirta swung open, bugles sounded up and down the lines, and the entire Roman force came to attention. There was that famous discipline again, as the army seemed to move and execute as one man. The Numidians began to move out of the city. A column twenty men wide, poured out of the gate and entered the plain. They

moved at a slow trot and the column of armed men came and came and seemed to have no end. When it was fully clear of the city walls, the twenty wide column stretched far beyond both ends of the Roman line, which, of itself, extended almost half a mile. When the Numidians finally came to a disciplined halt, a tremendous cloud of dust drifted by with the early morning breeze, and when the dust cleared, each Roman soldier knew they were badly outnumbered. Now the two armies faced each other. The Romans had chosen ground with a slight rise so that the Numidians would be moving uphill toward them. The sun was shining brightly, in the enemyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eyes and the Romans had been given double water rations. Two short blasts of the bugles sounded and each Roman soldier took a long drink from his canteen. A Numidian bugle call sounded and its army began to advance. As the enemy approached, the first two ranks of Romans lowered their spears, presenting a barrier of steel points to the advancing enemy. Another bugle call and the Roman force began their advance at a slow walk. The two armies met with a thundering crash. The noise was deafening as it reverberated off of the city walls and back across the plain. The screams of the wounded and dying mixed with the noise of metal against metal made any verbal communication all but futile. The Roman spear tactic allowed the first line to penetrate deeply into the Numidian front and Rufus soon found himself facing enemy swords. The Romans sounded a long and a short bugle call and the third through the eighth rank of each cohort launched their spears directly into the horde in front of them. The well-designed weapon did its ghastly work. The spears penetrated the Numidian shields and were impossible to dislodge. The Numidians now cast their useless shield aside and began fighting with only their swords for defense. The discarded shields became foot traps, adding more confusion to an already calamitous situation. Slashing and stabbing his way through the mass of men, Rufus soon found himself facing warriors with no shields. Using his own shield as a defense, and also as a weapon, he and his comrades began to advance. Push with his shield, thrust, block, parry, and advance. He, as well as the entire Roman front began this deadly cadence, as the enemy began to give ground. He could feel his senses at their peak of alertness, applying the skills he had been taught by his trainers. He saw no goal, no objective, only move forward and kill anything in his path. As one foe went down, he looked for another to engage. He fought with a deadly precision, his sword becoming an extension of his arm. He felt blows, but he felt no pain. He had no sense of time, only an awareness to keep moving forward, block a thrust, strike down the next foe, and above all, stay alive. As Rufus advanced through the carnage he could see the faces of the enemy. Some were very old and some were very young. This protracted war with Rome had spanned so many years, Jagurtha had found it increasingly difficult to recruit troops. The enemy ranks had swelled to even include children as soldiers. Rufus was particularly moved at one point, when knocking aside two enemy with his shield, by bursting between them, he was confronted by a scene that would live in his memory long after the battle was over. A young boy, in a sitting position, staring down at his entrails, lying on the ground before him, weeping, crying for his mother. Then suddenly a Roman spear pierced his throat, and put an end to his suffering. Parrying an enemy spear thrust, helped to draw Rufusâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; mind back to the action and he advanced, not looking back.

The superior discipline of the Roman army now became apparent. The relentless advance of the Roman front pushed the enemy steadily backward. As a Roman soldier fell, another moved in to replace him. Push with the shoulder against the shield, thrust with sword, advance, over and over, always forward, like a rolling human machine. The front line of the Numidians proved to be no match for this relentless attack. They either died where they stood, or fell back. As they fell back, they collided with those in the rear, trying to advance. The result was chaos. The dead, at this juncture of indecision, lay two and three deep. Rufus found the footing more and more difficult. The stench was overpowering. Blood, shit, piss and other odors he couldn’t identify; but still the inexorable advance continued. Suddenly the enemy line started to thin. Rufus could see the backs of the Numidians fleeing back toward the city. The Roman cavalry appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. They converged on the fleeing enemy, from both flanks, cutting them down like so much wheat. The city wall defenders, realizing that these retreating troops were doomed, shut the city gates, abandoning their fleeing comrades to their fate. Their fate of course was death. Marius had ordered that no prisoners would be taken. Forcing a defeated Roman army “pass under the yoke”, was an unforgivable act, and would be avenged, today. The battle was now essentially over. Roman attendants had begun to appear to administer to the dead and wounded, as well as dispatch any wounded Numidians. As his emotions started to return to normal, and the blood lust of battle lessened, Rufus scanned the battlefield recoiling in horror at the carnage around him. He was covered with dust, and gore but he felt refreshed breathing the air, grateful to be alive. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth legions were blooded now. They had met the enemy and prevailed. The siege of Citra commenced. The siege equipment was drawn into place and the two legions were re-assembled to prepare for storming the city. All of these preparations proved to be unnecessary. The Numidians sent a peace envoy to Marius and the city surrendered. Terms were negotiated and the edicts declared were carried out. The soldiers, that had survived the battle, had fled with Jagurtha. The questioning of those left behind had revealed that Jagurtha had headed for the city of Lix, to take refuge with his father-in-law, Bocchus. There he would begin to conscript another army to continue fighting the Romans. All the men of Cirta, were made to “pass under the yoke”, after which, they were to be sold into slavery. This was the punishment for the humiliation of a Roman army. These acts would let all Numidians know, Rome never forgets an affront. Night had fallen. The army of Marius was housed within the walls of Cirta. Marius let the soldiers have their way with the women, but only by consent. They could have whatever wine, and creature comforts they could find. There was to be no rape and no more killing but outside of that, the city was theirs to recreate, as Marius put it. At first light, the next day, the two legions packed up, and leaving a cohort behind to garrison Cirta, set out for the city of Lix to pursue Jagurtha. Lix was estimated to be a six-day march from Cirta. At midmorning, on the third day out, the column encountered an unmapped stretch of desert. This lack of information set up a debate between Marius and his legates. A halt was called and the troops were put at ease while the decision was made whether to go on or pitch camp.

Rufus looked up ahead of the column squinting under the blazing afternoon sun. He could see the road ahead but then after a distance, the road seemed to vanish into a sea of sand. Before long a troop of cavalry broke out of the column and headed out to scout what was ahead. He watched them for a while until only a cloud of dust marked their passage, and then that too disappeared. There was no wind and the African sun beat mercilessly on the idle army. The men dozed, while at ease, setting their cloaks on their poles trying to create a semblance of shade from the merciless sun. After some time the scouting party had not returned, but the decision was made anyway. The army would camp for the night and cross the desert in the cool of the next morning. Using their pack poles, the two legions made a semblance of a stockade, but no moat was dug. The soft desert sand made that aspect of a fortified camp all but impossible. Even the stockade poles were anchored in loose sand and wouldn’t offer much resistance to an enemy attack. The troops were settling in for the night. The cook fires were lit and preparations for the evening meal were underway. It was still some time until dark, as Rufus happened to look out into the desert in the direction of the setting sun. He thought he saw a dust cloud, but it seemed in an odd location to be caused by the returning scouting party. Looking again, he mentioned it to one of the cohort standard bearers, who happened to be standing next to him. The man also squinted into the sun and said, “Your right I can see them, it must be the scouts returning. I wonder what they found.” Something seemed wrong, and Rufus looked again. “The dust cloud, it’s too large for a scouting party,” he said. As he turned back to the man with this observation, he realized the man had moved out of earshot. Dropping quickly to his hands and knees, Rufus brushed away a patch of loose sand and pressed his ear firmly to the ground. He jumped up shouting for the man he had just spoken to. He ran to face him, took him by the shoulders, he looked directly into his eyes, he said, “This is a matter of life and death. Do you know where the bugler is?” “Why yes, I know him well. He is called Barsubus and he is right over there by the fire.” “Do exactly as I say. Go to him, tell him to sound the call to arms as loudly as he can and keep doing it over and over.” “What, why, what’s happening?” “Don’t question me, there is no time, all our lives are at stake.” The standard bearer ran off to do Rufus’ bidding and Rufus ran to where his squad was bivouacked. “Men, we are under attack. If you want to live, arm yourselves and follow me.” Just then the bugle sounded the call to arms and the entire camp sprang to life. By now Rufus’ men were fully armed, formed up and ready to march. “Follow me, at the double,” Rufus commanded, and upwards of forty men headed out into the desert, at a dead run. Shouting to be heard over multiple bugle calls, he said, “When you come within range, launch your spears at whatever target you see. Try for the horses if you can. After you throw, form a wedge to my right and left, an arms length apart, and center on me.” As he shouted the last command, the enemy was in spear range and coming in fast. With the force of their foot speed behind their casts, forty spears sailed through the air and almost as many struck either a man or a horse. The result was a tumbling mass of men, horses and sand that stalled the charge and sent that section, of the

enemy front rank, into a dusty confused panic. Rufus quickly scanned the enemy force and realized the entire frontline was cavalry. His group was only a tiny island in the middle of a total melee, as the enemy front wrapped around them and continued on toward the Roman camp. Coupled with the thundering of thousands of hooves, the sound was deafening. The two squads were now engaged with some of the dismounted enemy and the fighting was hand-to-hand. The unexpected appearance of the Roman foot soldiers had caused no little confusion in the enemy ranks. As Rufus had correctly guessed, the fallen horses had presented an unexpected obstacle to their charge. The enemy cavalry, in their immediate area, was milling around and the two squads were striking them down almost at will. Rufus picked up a fallen spear and unhorsed one man to his right and whirling around, struck down another rider to his left. The spear broke on a third try and he returned to the use of his sword. He remembered thinking, I hope we get relief soon, or we’re all doomed. The enemy leaders were frantically trying to re-group their men. Rufus knew, when that happened, his men would be quickly overwhelmed. In an effort to prepare for the worst, Rufus began shouting and waving his sword over his head, in a circular motion. Another soldier caught on and began doing the same. As they had been trained to do, the remaining Romans formed themselves into a circle. Shields up, swords at the ready, prepared to die but also prepared to take as many Numidians with them as possible. Suddenly there was a great commotion to their left and Roman spears began to fall into the enemy ranks. Roman cavalry and hundreds of Roman soldiers arrived at almost the same moment. This sent the enemy reeling and set them to flight, with the Roman cavalry hard on their heels. Rufus could see them striking the enemy down from behind as they fled. Those that weren’t fortunate enough to get away were dispatched by the Roman foot soldiers. As the confusion of battle began to subside, Rufus had a chance to look around to see how many of his men had survived the encounter. As near as he could tell, there were only a few missing. Rufus began going around to the men congratulating them on their bravery in facing such overwhelming odds. To a man they realized that what they had done had averted a major disaster. The fighting was over now. The Numidian force had been successfully repelled and scattered and the Romans had lost less than fifty men, in the major attack. It was hard to return to a normal camp that night. There was much chatter among the men and emotions were still running high. A ration of wine was doled out and soon a little calm was restored. The hour was now quite late. Rufus was about to retire, when a mounted tribune and two mounted aides walked their horses off the avenue of tents and into the circle of light thrown by his campfire. “Where is the leader known as Rufus?” The officer called several times. “Here, over here.” As the officer approached, Rufus saluted and waited for the mounted officer to speak. “Ah, so, you are the hero of the hour, eh? Before the army marches tomorrow, you, and your squads are to report to the opening in the column, midway between the two legions. There will be a shelter erected there to indicate the spot. You will be there at sunup. Have you understood all that has been said to you? Oh and don’t forget to clean up

yourselves and your gear.” Those present indicated that they understood and the tribune’s words. Turning his horse, he and the two aides moved to ride away. “Wait,” Rufus said. “I am not a squad leader. I only rallied the men to counter a perceived threat. This man Audaxus and Bretus, they did the same.” “Did you initiate the action to arm?” the Tribune asked. “Yes, I saw it as the only thing to do.” “Then you are a squad leader. You and the rest of your men, whomever they may be, will be at the appointed place at the appointed time. Any questions?” “No sir, no questions.” “Good; as you were” “What do you think Rufus, are we going to be punished for assuming command?” “I don’t quite know Audaxus, but I probably won’t sleep at all tonight waiting to find out.” It was well past sun-up when Rufus caught sight of a mounted procession approaching the shelter where he and the two squads waited. The forty odd men had been up most of the night cleaning and polishing so that their weapons and armor gleamed in the early morning light. As the procession neared, there was no mistaking the consul Gaius Marius, in their lead. He radiated an aura of power. He was a tall, dark haired man, lean of build with great bushy black eyebrows, piercing black eyes and hooked nose. His shoulders were so broad he gave Rufus the impression of a giant bird of prey. He sat his horse as if he’d been born in the saddle and his armor of bronze, trimmed out with silver and gold, was magnificent. There were eight officers in the group and as they reigned up, Marius and two others dismounted and approached Rufus and Audaxus, who snapped to attention and saluted smartly. “Which one of you is Rufus,” asked Marius? “I am sir,” he replied. “Then you must be Audaxus, he said, pointing to him. “ Come, let’s get under the tent and out of this sun where we will be more comfortable, oh, and please be at ease. These are my legates, Lucius Sulla, who commands the Thirteenth and Gnaeus Lentullus who commands the Fourteenth. Both generals nodded but remained silent as Rufus and Audaxus again saluted. Continuing, Marius said, “Your actions last evening were exceptional. Your quick thinking averted a major disaster. For your bravery, you, and each of your men, have been awarded the ‘Gold Phalerae’. Also, each of you are promoted to centurion. At the next camp you will be assigned your own centuries, which will include your current squads. So, what have you to say about all of this, soldiers?” Both men stammered a bit and were somewhat speechless, but they did manage to thank the consul for their honors. “Come”, Marius said, let’s present you and your squads to the troops.” Marius stepped up onto a small makeshift platform and motioned for Rufus and Audaxus to join him. As all fell quiet, he spoke in a booming voice. “Soldiers of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth legions, I give you your newest centurions.” A loud thundering cheer went up from thousands of throats, shaking the very platform where they stood. Raising his hands for silence, Marius continued, “These two are what soldiering is all about. At the risk of their very lives, they, assumed a leadership role, and caused such a ruckus in the Numidian ranks, that it disrupted the enemy’s attack. Their initiative gave us a chance to launch an attack of our own. These two are what you should all aspire to

be.” Holding up their gold medals for all to see he said, “I give you Rufus and Audaxus. Again, the cheer from the ranks was deafening and continuing. Raising his hands for silence once more Marius said, “Now it’s on to Lix, where we will corner our friend Jagurtha and put an end to him once and for all.” The cheering continued as Marius and his legates shook the hands of Rufus and Audaxus, mounted up and trotted off toward the head of the column. As the bugles sounded, the cheering died out. The temporary dais and pavilion were disassembled and quickly loaded into waiting wagons and the column resumed the march toward Lix. The journey was uneventful. Rufus and Audaxus had each assumed command of their respective centuries and had gotten to know a little more of their men. Both men proudly wore their helmets with the red horsehair comb of a centurion, arched ear to ear. As officers, they were now housed in their own tents and their two centuries were billeted adjacent to one another. Lix was a city very similar in size to Cirta. It was also walled and would present a formidable obstacle if a siege had to be undertaken. On the first full day of the army’s encampment, outside the city walls, a delegation was seen emerging from the city under a flag of truce. The group proceeded to the Roman command tent and spent the entire morning inside, returning to the city in the afternoon. The next morning, the same thing happened. The rumors now began flying around the camp, concerning the purpose of all these meetings and negotiations. The army, was not being mobilized to offer battle, or to prepare for a siege. The order of the day was routine drills. “What do you make of it Rufus? Are we going to attack the city or not?” “I’ve heard nothing Aud. I’ve been trying to glean whatever information I can from some of the other officers but no one seems to know anything for sure. I’ve heard many explanations about our status but no story emerges as the truth so I guess we will just have to wait and see what develops.” The development they had been waiting for came that night in the form of a summons from Sulla himself. Rufus and Audaxus were to report to the legate’s personal tent, one hour after midnight, and they were warned to say nothing of it to anyone. When the order was issued Rufus and Audaxus just looked at each other. “What was that all about,” Audaxus said? Neither man slept much that night, wondering what was looming on the horizon. At the appointed hour the two men mustered in front of Sulla’s tent. A pair of legionnaires stood guard at the tent opening and snapped to attention when the two men approached. The sentries saluted smartly and held the flaps open, allowing Rufus and Audaxus to enter. The inside of the tent was roomy, well lit and warm. There was a large central table covered with maps and documents. A comfortable looking bed stood off to one side in a separate curtained chamber. There were several camp chairs scattered about. Sulla was seated behind the table intently studying one of the maps. He looked up as the men entered and greeted them warmly and by name, motioning them to take chairs as he did so. It was rumored that Lucius Cornelius Sulla was quite a ladies man and Rufus could see why. He wasn’t tall, like Marius, but he was a presence just the same. He was dressed in leather marching armor over a tunic. He was well muscled, and lithe with a cluster of reddish gold hair that curled and sat atop his head. His face had a boyish

quality, but his eyes, which eradicated any sense of boyishness, were cruel and icy blue. Altogether, Rufus decided, a formidable man, and one not to be trifled with. “I’m sure you men are wondering why you have been summoned here in the middle of the night, with no explanation. Before we get into that, allow me to stress a very important point. What is said, here in this tent, tonight, must not be repeated. It is of the utmost secrecy. Your very lives may depend on it. Do I make myself clear gentlemen?” “Yes sir,” both men replied. “You two have been selected for this mission, not only for the bravery you have shown you possess, but more importantly, because you have displayed the ability to take the initiative when it matters most. The success of this venture, can and will depend on those qualities. Now I will outline a plan to you. Save any questions until I have finished. You will each lead your respective centuries, and be under my command, on a mounted mission. We will be taking custody of a very important prisoner. We will be lightly armed with spears, swords and daggers. No shields, no armor, helmets only. All metal will be wrapped so as not to cause any undue noise. At the appropriate time, the hooves of the horses will be wrapped and secured with sackcloth. We will take possession of the prisoner and return here, to camp, as quickly as possible. The execution of this plan will take place one day from now, at this same hour. Now gentlemen, you may ask questions if you like.” “I have a question sir,” Rufus replied. “Why do you need one hundred sixty men for this mission? Wouldn’t a smaller force attract less attention for something of this nature?” “You are correct in your assessment Rufus, a smaller force would normally be the choice. In this case, we must be prepared for armed resistance against a force of unknown size so our numbers must be sufficient if this occurs. Any other questions?” The two men remained silent. “Very well then, you and your men will report to the west gate of the camp, at the appointed time, with your weapons prepared as instructed. The horses will be there waiting for you. You will standby your mounts until I arrive, and when I do, all will mount and then we proceed. If you know of any men who are poor riders, weed them out before you muster at the gate. Do you both understand the orders?” “Yes sir,” they both replied. “Very well then, I will see you on the morrow, at midnight, and remember, a wagging tongue can cause one’s head to fall off, dismissed,” he said, giving the two men a smile that was most feral. The next day the mission troops were given their orders and the questions began to fly. Rufus and Audaxus used every method they could think of to placate the men but the questions persisted. Finally, when all else failed, the threat of death had to be mentioned. Once this happened the men stopped questioning and became silent and sullen. A punishment of death, for a whispered comment, could only mean that, not only was the mission important, it was also dangerous. The moon was almost at its fullest but the intermittent cloud cover caused the desert landscape to have a bright and dark patchwork appearance. There was also a slight breeze but otherwise, the weather was ideal for the mission. As the small mounted army headed out of camp, into the hills of sand, Rufus noticed they were headed away from the city of Lix. Sulla seemed to be heading for high

ground that could be clearly seen some distance off. As they came closer, what at first seemed like a tower of rock, actually was a small mountain. It jutted up out of the surrounding countryside like a giant fist thrust up out of the earth. They traveled several miles and eventually saw Sulla raise his hand in a motion to halt. Rufus and Audaxus went forward to receive their orders. Sulla spoke in low tones and instructed them to have the men muffle their horse’s hooves, then return and inform him when this was done. Meanwhile he proceeded to dismount and began muffling his own mount and one rider-less horse he had been leading. When all was in readiness and Rufus and Audaxus had rejoined Sulla, he turned to the two men and said, “Rufus, you and I and your men will lead around this side of this rock. Audaxus, take your men around the other side to the left. Stay close to the rock face and continue on. I’m not sure of the distance but it could be a mile or more. After you pass around this mountain you will come upon a large tent pitched by the side of the road. When you see the tent, hold back a short distance and wait for a signal to advance. I do not want those in the tent to know of your presence. If you hear the sound of battle come immediately, at full speed. Let us get a quarter mile head start on your group before you proceed. Is all of this clear to you centurion?” Sulla said, with an edge of authority in his voice. “Yes sir, it is.” Audaxus replied. “Very well then, we are off.” They rode for what seemed like a long time yet the distance covered was probably only a few miles. As they passed the far edge of the rock outcropping, there it was, just as Sulla had predicted; a large tent standing just off the road. There were numerous flickering torches, placed at intervals around the tent, illuminating the surroundings in a circle of flickering light. Beyond the circle there was only moonlit darkness. There seemed to be no one about except for two guards standing to either side of the tent opening. Sulla, Rufus and their men approached the tent, three men abreast. As he reined up Sulla whispered, “Rufus, order the men to stay mounted then return and come into the tent with me,” Sulla said, as he himself dismounted. Sulla was helmetless but wore a scarlet cloak, beneath which, Rufus could see his ornamental battle armor. He carried a short sword but no other weapon. As they approached the tent, Sulla said, “Do not speak unless I address you directly.” At the tent entrance they were met by two gigantic Numidians, naked to the waist, wearing flowing silken leggings, sashed at the waist, with purple skullcaps sitting atop their shaved heads. The heavily muscled men were armed with curved swords and appeared to be identical twins. One said, in the most excellent Latin, “Come, our master awaits you.” Sulla and Rufus cautiously entered the tent. Rufus was immediately awed by its luxurious interior. It was warm against the desert chill and quite inviting. The carpets were very plush and soft to walk on. There was a low table furnished with food of every description and two large golden urns, with a stack of gold cups between them. Rufus had never seen such opulence. Sulla seemed oblivious to it, for all his attention was focused on a man seated on a low stool, his hands and feet bound and a blindfold covering his eyes. His opulent clothing gave evidence of great wealth. He sat erect with a definite military bearing. There was another robed individual sitting at the low table eating food from a golden plate. He was an older man wearing a sparkling white turban with purple and gold trim.

His hair and full beard were also a snowy white; his lime green robe was also trimmed with gold and covered with a sheer purple cape held by a delicate gold chain clasp. He spoke as the two men entered but did not get up. “Ah, you must be Sulla Marius’ legate, I am king Bocchus and the man sitting over there is my son-in-law, king Jagurtha.” Sulla bowed low and went to one knee, motioning for Rufus to do the same. “I am Lucius Cornelius Sulla and this is my aide Rufus, your highness. We bring you greetings from the Consul Gaius Marius and the Roman senate.” The old man motioned for them to rise and said, “We can be informal here, relax and enjoy some of the excellent food and wine. You must be tired and hungry after your trip.” “Forgive us your highness but we must conclude our business as soon as possible. The consul is anxious to complete the exchange. The hour is late and he desires that we be back in camp before sun-up.” Reaching inside his cloak, Sulla produced two rolled parchments and said, “All the agreed upon terms are spelled out in these documents your highness. The sums have been deposited in your account in Rome. You need only sign one of the documents, which I will take with me; the other carries Marius’ seal and is for you to keep as evidence of our transaction. I am authorized to tell you that, the moment that document is signed, you are an ally of Rome and under her protection forever.” “Ah yes, forever, forever is a long time and things do change, don’t they my dear Sulla? I will sign the document, seeing it is what Marius wants.” Taking the scrolls from Sulla, he scanned them each for a few moments. “Yes everything is as we agreed.” The king clapped his hands and one of his attendants produced a candle, lit it from a brazier and handed it to the king. The king held the scrolls and allowed a drop of hot wax to drip on each. Before the wax cooled he pressed his ring into the wax spot on each document, then handed one back to Sulla. After a quick look, Sulla nodded and re-rolled the document, tied it with a lace and put it back inside his cloak. There was a bit of an awkward silence, for a moment, and then the prisoner spoke up. “So father, I am now a prisoner of these Roman dogs. How does it feel to betray your only daughter’s husband?” The old man sighed but said nothing in reply, just mumbled something to himself. He hung his head slightly and seemed saddened by the remark. Composing himself, Bocchus turned to address Sulla, “You may take your prisoner now, but I warn you; you may be attacked before you reach your base. A thing like this is almost impossible to keep secret and Jagurtha has many, many followers who would gladly die for him.” “I consider myself warned your highness. Now, by your leave, I will depart with my prisoner, and I might add something to this event. Your people are no longer at war. Many would have died trying to protect this outlaw. In addition, and perhaps more importantly, your kingdom is under the protection of Rome. If you are ever threatened, you can summon a Roman army to come to your aid. Your daughter may hate you for what you have done, but never the less, you made a kingly decision.” “Kingly decision, more like a coward’s decision.” Jagurtha piped up. “We could have fought the Romans and won, then we would be rid of their tyranny forever. You have me now Sulla, but you will never get me to Rome. My eyes and ears are everywhere, even in your camp. My men will never let their king be taken from African soil.”

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At this remark, Sulla’s head snapped around to scowl at Jagurtha. Walking toward the seated prisoner, he stopped at the table and drew his sword, which caused the two giant men to reach for their weapons. Sulla then grabbed the tablecloth and severed a corner of it with one quick stroke. Sheathing his sword, he wadded up the piece of cloth and looking down at Jagurtha, jammed the cloth into his mouth. “That’s enough of your outlaw babble,” he said, as he grabbed the prisoner under the arm and forced him roughly to his feet. “Come my rebel king, you have a long journey ahead of you and we must be on our way.” Bowing to old Bocchus, Sulla and Rufus escorted their regal prisoner out into the night. Rufus boosted the prisoner up onto his horse, mounted his own and took up a position abreast of Sulla with Jagurtha in the middle. “Dispatch a rider to join Audaxus and have him catch up with us as fast as possible. They can also remove and discard their mufflers. We can also remove ours.” When all this was done, the group set out a brisk trot. All the earlier cloud cover had now dissipated and the nearly full moon brought the terrain to a near daylight level of brightness. As the group made its way past the now familiar mountain, Rufus raised his hand and alerted Sulla to call a halt. “What is it Rufus, I didn’t call a halt.” “I know sir, but I saw movement in that grove of trees up ahead.” Looking intently Sulla said, “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. This will be our plan. If we are hit, I will take the prisoner, and half the column and split left, you will split right with the rest. When we complete the circle, you, Jagurtha and I will be in the center. Signal the men to dismount and fight on foot. If they come at us with cavalry, try to kill or maim their horses. If they come on foot, use your horses as shields and pray to the Gods Audaxus is not far behind.” Sulla signaled for the group to advance and the brisk trot was resumed. The enemy did come, swiftly, with a great clamor, and they were mounted. Rufus could measure, by the thunder of hooves, they were definitely outnumbered. Without verbal command, Sulla executed his maneuver to the left and Rufus followed with his move to the right. It took very little time to form the circle of eighty two horses as Rufus shouted orders and encouragement to the men. Sulla reined up and jumped off his horse, he ran to the horse of Jagurtha and felled the animal plunging his sword into its chest, then quickly tied Jagurtha’s already bound hands to the halter of the dead animal. As he did this, Sulla leaned over and said something to Jagurtha. As both men turned to meet the enemy Sulla said, “We have to stop any who break the circle Rufus, are you up to it?” “I will do my best general.” The words had hardly left his mouth when an enemy rider did break through the outer circle. He bore down on Rufus, spear leveled. Rufus blocked the spear with his shield and drove his sword, up to the hilt, into the belly of the horse. The horse went down in a tumble, catapulting its rider up into the air, landing him hard, in a heap. Before the man could recover, Rufus was upon him killing him with a lightening quick thrust to the throat. Looking quickly at Sulla, Rufus could see he was similarly occupied. Our general can fight, he thought. Two more riders broke through the ring and Rufus moved to engage the nearest one. This rider tried the same spear tactic only this time Rufus dodged under the spear and took the rider full in the side with his sword. The stroke was a sweeping one and un-horsed the man. The speed of the horse and the force of the blow nearly cut the man in half. The enemy horseman was quite dead

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when he fell to the ground. Suddenly Rufus heard a great shout from the ranks and Audaxus’ century, galloping at full speed, burst on the scene and joined the battle. The reinforcements greatly improved the odds and took the heart out of Jagurtha’s men. They broke off the engagement and scattered into the stand of trees and into the hills from which they had come. Jagurtha hadn’t moved and lay huddled by his slain horse, still blindfolded and bound. Sulla ran to Rufus, and taking him by the shoulders said, “You were magnificent Rufus. I knew it would pay having you and Audaxus accompany me. Come let’s regroup and get back to camp.” “Sir, can I ask you what you said to Jagurtha just before the battle began?” Looking at Rufus with the familiar feral grin on his face Sulla replied, “Oh not much, I just told him that if we were overwhelmed, his severed head would greet his rescuers.” He walked away laughing. Regrouping the men and mounting them proved to be somewhat difficult, as many horses had been killed in the skirmish. Some had to ride double but before long everyone was mounted and what was left of the little army set off for base at a fast trot. The dead, one being Rufus’ fellow centurion Audaxus, were left behind. Just as the rising sun edged over the horizon the party entered the camp’s eastern gate. Marius himself, and four of his bodyguards were waiting to congratulate Sulla on accomplishing the mission. The consul seemed quite elated. Rufus overheard him say to Sulla, “This coup of yours will guarantee me another consulship Lucius and launch you on your political career,” as he put his arm affectionately over Sulla’s shoulder. “You have done well my friend.” “What about our dead out in the desert?” Rufus asked Sulla. “Don’t worry, I will send a contingent out with wagons to retrieve our brave men. They shall have a proper military burial and I am sorry about Audaxus Rufus. He was a good man.” With the threat of war past, the army settled into its stand down routine. Rumors were flying around the camp that there would be an assembly of the troops and awards were to be given. There was also a trace rumor that there would be some punishment meted out; although what the punishment would be, Rufus couldn’t imagine. There was also a most pleasant rumor that, during the assembly, the order was to be issued, the Thirteenth and Fourteenth legions were going home to Italy. The rumored assembly was called. It wasn’t like the last awards ceremony, when Rufus, Audaxus, and their squads received medals for valor, the mood of this one was somber with apprehension. Rufus could sense an uneasiness in the troops and their mood could only be described as solemn. As the two legions assembled outside the walls of Lix, Rufus and the special mission troops were ordered to form in front of a large covered pavilion. Marius and all his officers were resplendent in their ceremonial armor and scarlet cloaks. As Marius rose to address the troops, a hush fell over the assemblage. “Soldiers of Rome” the Consul began, “This assembly was called today to give you the news that we are going home.” The troops erupted into a thunderous cheer that continued for some time. Marius raised his hands for silence and continued. “This war has ended. Jagurtha is now our prisoner and the Numidians have sued for peace. My quaestor, Sulla is to be congratulated and honored for his success in effecting the capture of King Jagurtha. Sulla was assisted in this venture by two centuries of troops from the

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Fourteenth Legion. These men were conspicuous in their bravery by the successful completion of a very important mission. The awards for excellence, in performance of duty, will now be presented, and in addition, each member of the honored centuries will receive an extra months pay.” Again the troops cheered. “Now to the presentations.” As Marius bestowed the honor on each individual, he stated their name while holding up the award for all to see. He then placed the award around the neck of the recipient. A gold necklet for Sulla and silver Phalerae for Rufus and the two centuries. A posthumous award was bestowed on Audaxus and those others who had died in the action. “Now, my quaestor and the commander of the Fourteenth Legion, Lucius Cornelius Sulla wishes to say a few words. I shall turn this ceremony over to him.” “Hail Marius”, Sulla shouted. “Hail Marius” came the thundering reply, from more than twelve thousand throats. Sulla raised his hands and silence reigned once more. “My duty now is not a pleasant one, but it is a necessary one. It has come to my attention that someone in this assemblage conveyed secret information, about our mission, to the followers of King Jagurtha. You have all heard by now what that secret mission was. What you may not know is that on our way back to camp, with our prisoner in custody, our group was attacked. The attackers knew where we would be and at what hour we would be there. Were it not for the bravery and tenacity of these men here before you, I and they could be dead and Jagurtha would be free to continue to wage war. In view of this treachery, an example must, I repeat must, be set. The two centuries, standing here before me will be decimated!” A collective gasp rose from the throng as it realized what Sulla had said. “An attendant is passing among them now, with a tin of beans. Those men drawing a white bean will not be punished, those men drawing a black bean will be beaten to death by their own mates, here and now.” The troops were eerily silent as the men of the two centuries drew their beans. Pitiful wailing and cries could be heard as those who were to die realized their fate. As each black bean was drawn, two soldiers, in full battle dress, escorted the condemned man to the front of his unit. When there were sixteen men assembled, clubs were given to those remaining. There was a palpable undercurrent of unrest emanating from the two legions as they stood in witness to what was about to happen. Again raising his arms for silence, Sulla continued. “You may feel anger at what is about to happen. You may struggle to understand it, but know this. When the lives of all of us are threatened by the actions of a few, punishment must be swift and severe. For the ones who are guilty, know that a brave innocent man died today, in your place. May the Gods curse you to live with that thought for the rest of your days. For the innocent, who are about to die, Mars will surely be merciful and assure you a place in Elysium. On my order, those men with white beans will strike the condemned and continue to strike until all are dead. If you fail to, or cannot strike a condemned man, you will be severely punished. For the ‘People and Senate of Rome’, let the executions begin.” Rufus could taste the bile, as it rose in his throat. Could this be a cruel joke? He turned to look at Sulla and the blue eyes had turned to ice, there was no remorse in those eyes, this was not a joke. He and his men hung their heads in shame. A single tear ran down Rufus’ cheek as a club was thrust roughly into his hand. This is the Roman army, he thought, to kill brave men because of rumors. He understood the need for discipline, but this was not discipline, this was an inhuman sacrifice.

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The command was given and the two centuries, including Rufus, rained blows down upon the sixteen. The first of the blows was purposely well placed and each of the condemned men was knocked senseless and never felt the blow that ended his life. Rufus felt the pain of the blows, each and every one. It was as if he were receiving them for being honored while his brave fellows were dying. When the blows stopped not a sound was uttered. The legion surgeons came forward and performed a brief examination of each prone figure. When it was determined all the condemned were dead, more attendants came forward and loaded the twenty bodies into a wagon, for burial in unmarked graves, in the middle of the desert, where the shifting sands would erase their memory for all time. Without conscious thought, Rufus took off his medal and placed it on the pile of bodies, as the wagon rolled past. He watched the wagon rumble off, headed toward the desert, then he wept He couldn’t get his mind off that terrible event. It haunted his thoughts day and night. He could feel the thud of the clubs when he was awake and dreamt he was wielding the club when he was asleep. What was left of Rufus century had been split-up and randomly placed throughout the Twelfth Legion. He was a centurion with no one to command. The military tribune attached to his cohort had told him that he would be reassigned once the army returned to Rome. He also told him that the tour of duty he had enlisted for was in effect for this campaign only. If he wanted to stay on he could re-enlist. If he wanted to accept a discharge, he could. Rufus decided to leave the army and seek his fortune elsewhere. Rufus had mustering-out pay from the army. It wasn’t a huge sum but it was enough to see him through until he could find work. He took his time seeking out a place to live. He traveled to the four corners of the city and found a suitable apartment in the subura. Here was where Rufus felt most at home. Here was the pulse of the city, the melting pot that was Rome. His apartment was on the second floor on one corner of a four-corner square. The ground floor of the building was a tavern, where Rufus took his meals. His landlords, a man and his wife, ran the tavern and managed the six apartments in the building, of which Rufus’ was one. The woman was named Pertina, a stout, nononsense kind of woman, a gruff exterior without, but a heart of gold within. Rufus loved to joke with her. She would blush and trip all over her words when he did. “If you weren’t married, I would sweep you off of your feet and we would run away together,” he would say to her. She would laugh and blush and thoroughly enjoy every minute of the attention. Her husband, an ex-legionnaire, like his father before him, and was a kind peaceful man. He was honest and ran his tavern and his rentals with military precision. The tavern was always sparkling clean, as were the apartments, and the little business thrived. Rufus loved the old couple. They reminded him of his parents and home. They took to him as well. He would help them when they needed a strong arm or someone they could trust to serve wine and food in their absence, and not steal from the till in the process. In time, he became the son they never had and he looked out for them. After his army pay dwindled, he took a job at a wagon maker’s shop. He worked hard, made a good wage and learned the skills of a wagon maker and settled into his new life.

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There was also a disturbing undercurrent in the subura. There was a secret, underground society called “The Protectors”. It was comprised of roving bands of thugs who would go from shop to shop, business-to-business, selling protection from other bands of thugs, such as themselves. Each band had a territory, and as a rule, once that territory was established, no other gang would infringe on it, that is until something changed. Rufus discovered this secret society when the head of the one, which protected the tavern of Pertina and Placidus, died. There was an immediate and deadly struggle for power. Rumors of it flew around the subura. Rufus asked Placidus if he paid the protection money. “Yes, I have paid it for years”, he replied. “It wasn’t a lot of money and it seemed a worthy investment. The one that died, Cessutus, was a thief, I know, but he was always fair with me and treated me with respect. While he held power, no other protector ever came here looking for money. Now that Cessutus is dead, other protectors want to take over his territory. That is why there is a war going on out there.” The war touched the little tavern the very next day. Rufus had worked a full shift at the wagon shop and had come home that afternoon to help unload amphorae of wine from a supply cart. Rufus saw three tough looking men enter the tavern and thought nothing of it until he heard the commotion. He rushed inside. There was one man restraining Pertina and another holding a dagger to the throat of Placidus. The third man was standing away waiting and watching with his hands on his hips. Rufus decided the man with the blade posed the greatest threat and dealt with him first. Rufus saw all this before any of the men saw him. Grabbing a table stool, he easily disabled the knife wielder with a blow to the head. As expected, the man holding Pertina let go of her and moved toward Rufus along with the third man. By this time both men had produced weapons. “We will gut you and feed your parts to the street dogs,” one man said, with a sneer, as they both launched their attacks against Rufus, at the same moment. Sweeping aside one knife, with the stool and the other with his left arm, Rufus kicked one man in the groin so hard; the man immediately went down, writhing on the floor in extreme pain. Reversing his motion with the stool, he brought it up under the chin of the remaining assailant and rendered him unconscious as well. The whole episode was over in an instant. Two men unconscious and one disabled in the blink of an eye. Pertina and Placidus stood apart and just looked at Rufus with wide un-believing eyes. “We had no idea you were such a fighter,” Placidus said. There was some slight damage to the tavern furniture but otherwise, with the exception of the attackers, everyone was all right. Rufus took hold of the tunics of the two unconscious men and dragged them into the street. The third man, who was now in a sitting position, Rufus helped to his feet and steered him toward the street, depositing him alongside his two companions. “If any of you come back here again I will kill you. You understand this promise, don’t you?” The man nodded his head in assent. “You know this is not over?” the man said. “Yes, I assume there are more of you but what it comes down to is this; are any of you willing to die for what little money you might collect from one small tavern? Pass us by and live. You can go any where else you want to but not here,” Rufus said, fixing him with a deadly stare. News traveled swiftly in the subura and Rufus noticed many new faces stopping by the tavern to see the man who had defied “The Protectors” and lived. Maybe they

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want to se me killed, he thought. Whatever the reason, business improved greatly and Pertina and Placidus were as busy as they had ever been. Two days went by with no repercussions from the altercation. Perhaps the one incident was enough to deter these thugs, Rufus thought. It was late one afternoon that Rufus knew he was wrong to make such an assumption. A man came into the tavern and ordered wine, which Pertina brought promptly. The visitor sat alone at a corner table and sat sipping his wine, quietly observing what was going on around him. Rufus had never seen the man before and knew he would not soon forget him. He wore a blood red cloak that almost reached the floor, more than bulky enough to conceal any sort of weapon. He was exceptionally tall and his dark complexion stood out all the more as his hair and eyebrows were completely white, yet the whiteness was not due to age. His eyes were a brilliant blue and twinkled with intelligence and cunning. Rufus could not take his eyes away until the stranger looked up and smiled, then Rufus averted his gaze. The man definitely had an aura, of what Rufus wasn’t quite sure, but the man radiated strength and power. Rufus had seen men like him before, in the legion. Men like Marius and Sulla they had the aura. A certain mental toughness that let one know that men like these would never give up what they desired to achieve, until they were dead. Rufus had decided long ago that men of this ilk would make the most formidable opponents. Physical size was of minor importance it was the size of the man’s heart that always mattered most. As Rufus moved to clear a table near the stranger, he deliberately made eye contact. “You know why I am here,” the man said? “Yes,” Rufus replied, “I know.” “Can we sit and talk for awhile?” Rufus eyed the man and unconsciously placed a hand on a dagger he had taken to carrying, after the previous day’s events. “Yes, I can spend some time with you, but I am busy so perhaps you can be brief.” Rufus knew the man was measuring him as he spoke, but he didn’t feel an attack was forthcoming, so he relaxed a bit, sat down and placed his folded hands on the table in front of him. “First let me offer you my compliments. You disabled three of my best men. Did you have any help in doing so?” “No, no help, just me.” Again the man spoke and Rufus could detect a new note of respect in his voice. “Where did you learn to fight so well,” he inquired? “In the army,” Rufus replied. “Ah, the army, I have seen legionnaires fight and they weren’t nearly as good as you seem to be. Maybe they should have made you an instructor.” “I was one of those too,” Rufus replied. Pausing for effect the man said, “My name is Invictus and I am not a cruel heartless man. I am a businessman. I strongly believe in negotiation when one wants something. Very simply, I could easily have you killed then nothing would stand in the way of my plan to assimilate the territory of Cessutus into my own; but I see a brighter future for you and me. I also own a school for gladiators.” The stranger paused to let this information sink in a bit. “Here is my offer. You join my school and learn the skills of a gladiator, although, I believe your skills are quite advanced already. After you are trained you fight for me. I rent you out as a fighter for the entertainment of the rich and famous,

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mostly the rich. You will fight at funerals, social events, political rallies and such. You may have to fight condemned prisoners and you can even fight beasts, if you so desire. I get well paid for this and you will also be well paid. You will not be treated like a slave. You would be a freeman and you may go and come as you please and leave, whenever you have had enough of fighting.” “Why me,” asked Rufus, “Why do I deserve this benefit you offer?” “This is what I see. You know you like to fight. I know you like to fight. You miss it don’t you? Yes, I can see it in your eyes. You miss the battle and the bloodshed, it excites you and you feel alive and powerful when you are doing it. There is nothing quite like it. The thrill of pitting your physical skill, your cunning, your intelligence against an opponent and besting him. You got a taste of it in the army but that is sporadic and you could go years without seeing any action. What I offer is action, any time you want it. It is also much more exciting than building wagons, don’t you think?” “You seem to know all about me!” “Yes, I made some discrete inquiries before I came here, but only to know you a little better.” “It is true, said Rufus. I was a good soldier and the heat of battle is as exciting as you say, but after all of that, what does the kind of life you are offering hold for me?” “Let me address your needs. First, what started this whole episode was the situation of the protection. I will offer my protection to Pertina and Placidus, and their establishment, at no charge. At present there is no one stronger than I, so, my guarantee of their safety is quite valid. What the future holds, no one knows. As long as I am top of the heap, they will come to no harm. Second, and I speak from personal experience; there is no greater thrill than man-to-man combat. You may have experienced this somewhat from those that trained you, but a gladiatorial contest is not only about skill at arms. It is also about deception, strategy, daring and most of all, confidence. It is confidence that makes one a champion gladiator. I think you possess combat skills and also this selfconfidence. I wouldn’t have spent so much time with you if I didn’t believe this to be true. You are like a piece of gold that only needs the artists hand to mold it into an exquisite work of art.” “If I don’t accept your offer of an education, what then?” “Then of course, you and I will have to fight to the death. Even if you are lucky enough to kill me, someone will quickly take my place and you will have to face this situation again and again.” “What exactly is the pay,” Rufus asked? “Whatever you make building wagons, I will triple it, while you are in training. When you are ready for a match, I will increase your pay by one quarter. Every match you win, I will give you a bonus. No bonus for a draw and if you lose, well, you will probably be dead so it won’t matter anyway. Don’t make a decision now. Come to my school, see for yourself what life as a gladiator could be like.” Rufus couldn’t help himself. He liked the man. He didn’t like the sideline, as head of a gang of thugs, but no one is perfect, he thought. The school for gladiators far surpassed anything Rufus expected. It was a large two story building located near the “Circus Maximus”. When he inquired at the entrance, he was told that he was expected and could go anywhere on the first level he wished. The

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second level was private and included the master’s apartments and was available only to him and the students of the school. From the entry courtyard there was a long hallway lined with frescoes and tile mosaics, each depicting a form of gladiatorial combat. At the end of the hallway were two life-size statues. Rufus recognized the God Mars as one. The other was unknown to him. He later learned that the statue was of Mithra, the soldier’s God, whom he had heard of when he enlisted in the army at Rome, but knew very little about. The hallway split and continued left and right, turning left took him around a large central training area and then another hallway. The central training area had a hard dirt floor, and a myriad of training devices were in use. The hallway had numerous observation windows and Rufus could see the instructors working with the students demonstrating techniques and then requiring the student to mimic their actions. As he watched he counted upwards of fifty men, the minority being trainers and the rest being students, this is a much larger school than I expected, he thought. Continuing around to the other long hallway, he went past a kitchen-dining area and on past training rooms, where men were being massaged or treated for some sort of injury. Much like the legion hospital, he thought. A little further on he came to the end of the building, which housed a stable, with horses and another courtyard and a rear gate, which opened onto a street. All through his self guided tour, Rufus had encountered numerous men and women engaged in some sort of task. All seemed well treated and greeted him as he ambled along. As he turned around, to head back in the direction he had come, he met Invictus, who greeted him warmly and with a great deal of enthusiasm. “Well Rufus, what do you think of my establishment? What you see before you took many years of hard work to achieve, but at least, it is all mine.” “I am very impressed Invictus, you have done extremely well for yourself.” Invictus always seemed to laugh easily, which he did now. “Yes it wasn’t always as you see it now, but I decided early-on, in my own gladiatorial career, that if I was going to risk my life often, and if I survived, I was going to have something to show for it. The fulfillment of that dream is what you see before you. Come, I will show you my apartment and your apartment.” Rufus gave him a quizzical look but said nothing and followed. At the top of a nearby staircase they approached two large carved wooden doors. Invictus threw them open and entered. Because of the artwork in the entry hallway, Rufus was a bit surprised at the furnishings. Nothing was gaudy or ornate, but it was, he decidedly, one of the most comfortable looking rooms he had ever seen. There were a number of soft cushioned couches, each strewn with pillows, all about the room. There was a small dining area, and a half again as large sleeping area, with a balcony open to the sky on one wall. Rufus headed toward the balcony and beheld a spectacular expansive view of some of the city and the “Great Circus”. The portals could all be shuttered to protect against the chill of winter, but currently a gentle breeze fluttered the filmy curtains and tapestries that hung on the walls. The windowed wall opposite the balcony looked down on the training area and could also be closed off if desired. “Again, I am duly impressed Invictus. The gladiator rental business must pay very well. What happens when one of your charges is killed? Do his possessions revert to you?” “It is a reasonable question Rufus, so I won’t take offense in answering it. If a fighter has family, his worldly possessions go to them. If there is no family his possessions revert to me. Come there is more.” Pausing before one of the doors down

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from his apartment Invictus said, “Remember when I said to you that all of my students are free”? “Yes, I remember.” “Well, when I first started my school I had slaves as students. When they were killed, which was often, I pocketed all of their possessions, as was my right because I owned them. Then I got the idea to employ a freeman. He was one of the best fighters I ever saw. Why do you think that was Rufus?” “I don’t know Invictus, why don’t you tell me.” “He fought well because he didn’t have to, he wanted to. Do you see the difference?” “Yes, I do see the difference.” “Do you understand the difference?” “Yes I understand perfectly. Now you employ only those that want to fight. Men like me.” “Yes, you do see, as I knew you would. Come, see where you will live,” Invictus said, as he opened the door. It was a much smaller version of Invictus’ apartment but it was very similar. Bright, airy and comfortable, with its own small balcony and view of the circus. When Invictus saw the look on Rufus’ face, a great smile spread across his own face. Rufus looked at him and said, “You know what I am thinking, don’t you?” Invictus nodded and said, “You can move in any time you desire and your training will begin the next day.” And so it was, Rufus began his journey to become a gladiator. Invictus had been right, and the trainers all agreed, Rufus was a natural born fighter. What he didn’t already know, he picked up very quickly and mastered it. Invictus marked Rufus’ progress very closely, but kept his distance. When not in training Rufus liked to roam the great city, and over time, grew to know it very well. He liked to take the road less traveled to truly gain its essence. Occasionally he would look in on Pertina and Placidus, they being the closest thing to family he had. They were always glad to see him and fussed over him a great deal whenever he did come. They told him Invictus had kept his word and they hadn’t been bothered. In fact, they said their prestige had risen, business had prospered and there was never even an argument amongst the patrons. “We are the toast of the Subura”, Placidus would say. “We even have a few senators as patrons now. We have so much business we need to expand. We have vacated shops on both sides of us and we plan to knock down a few walls to accommodate our customers.” Rufus also found his chosen profession attracted women. It wasn’t hard to notice that women noticed him. He also noticed that his fellow students also attracted women. Whenever they went out as a group, to partake of some food and a cup of wine, in no time at all, a cluster of females appeared around their table. Of course it could have been that a group of handsome virile young men, in peak physical condition, would naturally attract the opposite sex but Rufus thought there was more to it than that. He even asked some of the women what the attraction was. None could exactly define the attraction but the word danger or dangerous seemed to pop-up often in the conversations. He decided not to probe too deeply into the cause of the attraction; he just decided to enjoy it.

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One evening after three months of training he was invited to supper with Invictus. He made a point to ask some of the other more senior trainees if they had ever been invited to dine with the master, but they all said no, it had never happened. Rufus looked forward, with anticipation, to the meeting. After practice that day, he bathed, shaved, for all the students were expected to be clean-shaven, and appeared at Invictus’ door. He looked down at the pale green tunic, belted at the waist, dark red sandals he had bought new for the occasion and decided he looked quite presentable, and then he knocked softly at the door. “Come in Rufus,” Invictus said from inside. Invictus apartment was aglow with hundreds of candles placed in every nook and cranny, around the room. They gave off a soft glow as the many flames flickered in the gentle breeze blowing in off the plain of the great circus. The candles added to the already cozy atmosphere of the room and Rufus could feel himself relax. Invictus was reclined on an ornate overstuffed couch strewn with multicolored pillows. He directed Rufus to a similar couch placed alongside his own. “Welcome Rufus. Please, take a couch. I hope you are hungry. I had the cooks prepare us a special meal and I told them to bring up the best wine. It is called Falernian, and it is very expensive, but worth every sestersius.” “What is the occasion Invictus? It is not the day of my birth. Perhaps it is yours?” “No, no Rufus, he said laughing, “The occasion is your graduation from gladiatorial school and after three months of hard training we must celebrate,” he said, pouring a cup of wine and handing it to Rufus. “I warn you the wine is un-watered, but alas that is really the only way to enjoy Falernian.” Doing as he was bade, Rufus did sit on a low, cushioned couch and reclining, took a sip from the cup Invictus had handed him. It was delicious. After two more samples Rufus voiced his approval as it definitely being the best wine he had ever tasted. “It makes the vintage served at Placidus’ tavern taste like dishwater,” he said laughingly. “It does spoil one, doesn’t it?” Rufus had a glow on almost at once. His cheeks got rosy and he could feel a warm fuzziness envelope him. It was not in the least, unpleasant. Just then the servants began bringing in trays of food and placing them on a low table placed between the two couches. They talked as they ate and the glow from the wine lessened a bit as more food passed their lips. “I must say Invictus, you know how to live. One could learn very quickly to enjoy such a life.” “Ah Rufus, you are right of course. I don’t always eat and drink like this but, as I said, tonight is special. You must have been wondering about your status here at the school. We haven’t seen much of each other in these past months but I have been observing your progress and the reports from all of your trainers are splendid. To a man, they rate you as the best student they ever had.” Rufus raised his cup in thanks as Invictus raised his in salute. “Now to business. Your training is not quite complete yet. There is one small item. You must choose which fighting style you want to pursue. Once you choose, the last phase of your training will be to compete against that type of opponent, a professional, a sparring partner, so to speak. Do you have any thoughts on the matter Rufus?”

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“Yes Invictus, I made my choice long ago. I spoke with all of our trainers and they gave me many valuable opinions.” “Tell me Rufus, he said excitedly, “What have you decided?” “I will fight as a Myrmillo”, he said very matter-of-factly, “That is my choice.” “Let’s see, sword, shield, helmet, armored arm and greaves. I have no other Myrmillo in my stable just now so it will be an exciting option to offer my clients. Sadly, Maximus was my most recent but he fell for a feint and a Retarius put a trident through his throat, poor fellow; but that aside, I believe your choice to be an excellent one.” “What is the next step in my training Invictus?” “I will hire an experienced Myrmillo from one of my competitors or maybe an independent. He will be paid to spar with you until you have learned enough to hold your own in a match. While training, your armor, helmet and shield will be real; your swords will be made of wood. Make no mistake Rufus the training will be difficult. Your opponent will be experienced and will fight just as he would in a match. In other words he will fight to win, so you must give your best effort. You can get a pretty good thunk from a practice sword even if it is made of wood, but of course it won’t kill you.” “When will the last phase of my training begin?” “Relax for tomorrow, no rigorous training just light workouts. In two days time I shall have an opponent for you. How long I hire him for is up to you. When you can best him, you will be ready for the arena. I hope it won’t be too long or I may run out of money,” he said laughing. It wasn’t very long at all. Rufus had the hired opponent on his back, with the dull point of his wooden sword at the man’s throat, in no time at all. The hired fighter got to his feet and wanted to know if this was some kind of joke. When he was informed that it was no joke, he stormed out of the training compound cursing and muttering to himself. All the trainers, students and grooms, including Invictus himself, had gathered to watch the match. They all were around Rufus now, clapping him on the back and jostling. “Edipole”, Invictus exclaimed, “What a fight, short and sweet. You had him on his back without even breaking a sweat and this man is a veteran fighter, with twenty-one wins to his credit. I can’t believe my good fortune in finding you Rufus. You are ready for the arena right now. Come let’s celebrate. Corfinus bring the Falernian we’ll all drink until it’s gone.” This caused a rousing cheer from those present; for they loved the Falernian as well, and drink they did, far into the night. In a few short months Rufus became the toast of Rome. After six matches he stood un-defeated. He had killed four of his opponents and disabled two others, who the crowds had pled for because of their courage exhibited in the contests. Invictus was in a state of euphoria. He could name any reasonable price for Rufus’ services and it was never questioned or haggled. The patron knew the match he paid to see would be a memorable one. From every opponent Rufus learned something new. If a particular strategy failed, he discarded it. His quickness, in recognizing an opponent’s weakness gave him victory after victory. What wounds he did receive were minor. Mostly small cuts and bruises and he had never been on his back. He learned things even the trainers didn’t know and they were all amazed at the techniques he invented. One trainer warned him that he took too many risks but Rufus simply said, “That is my style.” His shield was almost as deadly a weapon as his sword, and his opponents knew well to fear one as much as the other. When not fighting, he trained rigorously to keep his body in peak

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physical condition. Wind sprints, long distance runs, swimming in the Tiber and lifting heavy weights. He would do daily sword and shield drills with lead weights strapped to his wrists and ankles, highly developing those associated muscles. When he did don his battle dress the weight of it seemed as nothing. With the guidance of the trainers at the school he maintained a strict diet of meat, vegetables and fruit. He ate very few sweets, drank plenty of water and when he occasionally took a cup of wine, it was well watered. He was also now recognized wherever he went. He couldn’t walk the streets of Rome without someone approaching to touch him or engage in conversation. He took to traveling about the city in a disguise of a very shabby tunic, sandals and an ankle-length hooded cloak. This technique helped him to manage his celebrity but it wasn’t totally fool proof. He had offers from women constantly. A slave would approach him and slip a note into his palm. The notes were always nameless but the addresses were often from a fashionable section of the city so he knew they were women of wealth and position. He was very careful and found wisdom in not accepting any of these invitations. Rich women were usually married to powerful men, and even at this point in his life, he still felt the need to guard his true identity. His needs and desires were met by means, which avoided any permanent attachment and any compromising situation. Due to his fame, the women he chose were always willing. It was on one of his afternoon forays into the city that an event happened that would change his life forever. It was warmer than usual. A slight humid breeze was blowing, from the south, causing the sunshades of the many shops to flutter. Rufus, in his usual disguise, strolled the Forum, along the Via Scara, past the Temple of Castor and Pollux, heading in the direction of the Rostra. It wasn’t far from here that I enlisted in the army, he thought, as he mingled with the bustling crowds, savoring the always-pleasant stimulation to his senses. As he came abreast of the Curia, he noticed a commotion off to his right. Moving with the throng, to get a better look, he saw a litter on the ground with a woman inside cringing from a man holding a bloody knife. One of the bearers was lying on the pavement and another was on his knees and appeared to be wounded. People were just standing and watching the drama unfold before them and no one even attempted to interfere. He heard the man with the knife say, “Your husband has brought me to ruin with his endless harangues against my character and my businesses. His silver tongue has spun a web of lies and deceit and his wondrous words are never ever questioned. Well now I hold the power over the great Quintus Antonius Vero. I have his wife here before me and I decide whether she will live or die.” As he advanced toward the woman in the litter Rufus made his move. He had no weapon and he knew the element of surprise was on his side, but he also knew his life would be in danger. He picked up a small stone and threw it at the man as hard as he could. The rock struck the man in the neck producing a small cut, which drew blood. It was enough to distract the man from his intended victim and he turned to face Rufus. As he did so he inadvertently touched the wound on his neck and when his hand came away smeared with his own blood, he stared at the blood for what seemed like an eternity and then came at Rufus. He came in a semi-crouch, his arm slightly bent holding the knife low, scowling, and blood lust in the look on his face. This one knows how to handle a knife, Rufus thought. It was a wicked looking weapon. The blade was wide at the hilt about a foot long and curved over its length, tapering to a sharp point. The first thrust Rufus easily sidestepped and as he did, he delivered a crushing downward blow to the

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bicep of the arm holding the knife. It clattered to the pavement but was quickly retrieved with the man’s other hand. He seemed at ease with the weapon in his opposite hand, which surprised Rufus. “Ah, we have someone who knows something about hand-tohand combat. Well my interfering friend I also know something about the same subject and now I am going to kill you just for the pleasure of it,” as he advanced on Rufus, he did so much more carefully. The next lunge barely missed Rufus’ mid-section but this time, as he fell away, he brought his foot up and delivered a blow to the man’s groin with all the strength he could muster. The attacker doubled over, in pain and fell in a disheveled heap. Rufus regained his balance and was upon his opponent in an instant and had him disarmed and immobilized with a foot to his neck and his injured arm twisted in an iron grip. “If you move I will twist this arm out of its socket,” Rufus said, through clenched teeth. “Now, someone go fetch a soldier and we will see this brigand locked up.” Two soldiers soon came at a run and recognizing the wife of a senator, one went to her first to see if she was all right, while the other relieved Rufus and took possession of the perpetrator, holding him at the point of a spear. His main fear allayed, the first soldier joined his comrade and they laid hold of the prisoner’s arms and hauled him to his feet. Addressing Rufus directly, the soldier in charge asked what had happened. Rufus gave them a full description of the events, with the surrounding crowd nodding and voicing their agreement to the tale. “What is your name?” asked the more senior of the soldiers, addressing Rufus. Rufus whispered his name into the soldier’s ear causing the man to step backward as he recognized who Rufus was. “You will probably be called to testify at the trial of this woman beater, so don’t leave Rome.” “I will make myself available,” Rufus replied, and moved to speak with the woman whose life he had saved. At this moment the perpetrator broke free of soldiers who were about to escort him away and ran back at Rufus. His attack was so swift and furious Rufus only had time to raise his arm to blunt the thrust from a small dagger the man had hidden in the folds of his tunic. The blade struck Rufus on the fleshy underside of his right arm and he instantly felt the arm go numb, as the small blade penetrated to its hilt. The man was immediately leveled by the butt end of a soldier’s spear and fell heavily to the ground, unconscious. The senator’s wife observing all of this quickly ran to Rufus and ripping a section of cloth from her dress, bound the wound to try to staunch the bleeding. Assuming control of the situation, she gave hurried instructions to one of her bearers, who set off at a run. One bearer remained behind and he was instructed to enlist the aide of some strong bystanders to replace the missing bearers. She then helped Rufus into the litter and bade him to lie down, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. “I am taking you to my home, here in Rome. It’s not far and it will be quiet and more restful there. I have sent a runner for our personal physician to treat your wound. He will meet us there. You will be all right but you must lie quietly to help slow the bleeding, do not remove the knife until the physician has seen it. If the blade struck an artery, you could bleed to death.” The bearers picked up the litter and were off at a brisk pace, carrying Rufus and the senator’s wife. At the senator’s house in Rome they transferred Rufus to a litter and brought him inside. “Carry him to the guest room and make him comfortable,” the senator’s wife ordered.

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He knew he must have lost consciousness for when he awoke the physician was closing the last stitch in the wounded arm. “How do you feel,” the man asked? “I don’t feel any pain, if that’s what you mean. In fact, I don’t feel anything at all from my shoulder down. The physician turned to look at the woman standing there, but Rufus could not see her expression as she locked eyes with the physician. Turning back to Rufus the physician said, “You are fortunate, the blade missed the artery. It’s still too early to tell the extent of the damage to the muscles of the arm. The wound must fully heal before I can make a final determination. This lady is Ameilia, Senator Quintus Vero’s wife. The senator insists that you stay here until you are well enough to get along on your own. He also said to tell you he owes you a great debt of gratitude for saving his wife from harm. He has sent word to your friend Invictus. He said to tell you to take as long as you need to get well.” While all this was being conveyed, the physician had neatly bound up Rufus’ wound and created an arm sling for support. Stepping back to look at his handiwork the physician said, “There, that’s all I can do for you now. You may move normally but no undue exercise, except walking, and keep the arm in that sling for at least one market interval. Domina, please summon me if you detect any sign of excess bleeding or fever, otherwise I trust that your servant can change the dressing every other day. As always, I am at your disposal. Now if you will excuse me, I have other places I must be.” They both watched the physician as he left the room. Looking at his surroundings, Rufus realized they were quite luxurious but not uncomfortable. He surmised it was a room in the senator’s home that had been temporarily turned into a hospital room. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for saving my life,” she said, as she approached him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his cheek. “I have never been close to death before and it frightened me so much, I was struck speechless, which is very unusual for me.” They both smiled at her attempt at humor. Touching her hand on his shoulder, with his good hand, he replied, “It is not wrong to be afraid. I have been so, many times.” As he said this, he paused to digest all the recent events, and really looked at her for the first time. He knew he was looking at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was a silver gold color curled in the latest Roman fashion. The curls caressed her face and softened her features then cascaded over her shoulders and out of sight down her back. Her eyes were of an amber hue and glowed like ripe grapes. He looked briefly into their depths and saw honesty and sensitivity there. She looked back at him steadily with trust and gratitude. Her nose was long, slender; the nose of an aristocrat. Her lips were a natural pink and contained no dye or paint and blended into the sweetest little bow of a mouth. Her teeth were white and even as they parted with a slight chuckle. “Forgive me,” she said, blushing a bit, “I haven’t been looked at, like that, for a very long time and it made me as giddy as a school girl.” “Oh my, f-forgive me Domina,” he said, blushing, “I didn’t mean to offend you.” “No, no, it’s alright, it was quite pleasant and refreshing, and a lady certainly likes a compliment, now and then doesn’t she! But, I am keeping you occupied, you must get some rest. The physician gave you a sleeping potion, he said it would calm you and help you to follow his directive to rest. I will look in on you tomorrow,” she said, slipping quietly out and softly closing the door.

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The next day, the lady Ameilia came to see him, early in the morning. “Excuse me Rufus, it is Rufus, isn’t it?” “Yes Domina, Rufus Pollinius that is my name.” “I have a request to make of you but before you answer, let me describe our thoughts. It is getting very hot, here in the city. At this time of year it is our usual practice to relocate to our country villa, where it is much cooler and will be much more comfortable. We would like you to come with us, my husband and me. It was my husband’s idea. He thought the quiet and coolness of the country might allow your wound to heal more quickly. He said you could stay as long as you liked. He will join us at a later date. What do you think of the idea?” A beautiful woman inviting him to her country villa was a very pleasant surprise for him, so he said what any red-blooded young man would say, he said, “Why yes Domina, I would be honored to accept your gracious invitation.” The household staff was very practiced and efficient in their task and in no time at all, the Vero household was packed and ready to travel to their country villa a short distance to the north of the city. The trip took most of the day and he only caught glimpses of Ameilia as she captained the entire enterprise, with speed and efficiency. His wound was not severely disabling and the next morning, after a well-rested night at the villa, he was alert and eager to move around. He felt good with the exception of a dull pain in the underside of his right arm where the knife blade had penetrated. He was served breakfast and shortly after he finished, she came in. She looked radiant in a light yellow dress with some wild flowers braided in her hair. “Come,” she said, motioning him to follow her. “I would like to show you the rest of our summer home, especially the gardens. They are quite beautiful this time of year, and beside a walk will do you good; don’t you think?” He liked the way she phrased the request so it didn’t seem like an order. They strolled through the house while she twittered away pointing out this feature or that appointment. Rufus was especially impressed by the senator’s library. It contained more books than Rufus had ever seen in one place at one time. She told him how Quintus Vero was especially proud of his collection of books and he even had an equally large collection at their home in Rome. The garden, and surrounding grounds were lovely and contained every imaginable shrub and flower that grew in Italy, and he suspected, even some that didn’t. Everything growing was neatly weeded and trimmed. “Your gardening staff must be very busy,” Rufus remarked. “Yes they are. There is only old Terranus and his son Mollus. They are marvelously talented as you can see. What household staff they encountered seemed happy and well treated and greeted the mistress of the house with much respect and obvious affection. He saw many bees and humming birds flitting among the flowers and he asked her about them. “Oh yes,” she said. “We have many hives to tend. The bees do their work very well and there’s always the honey we gather. Everyone loves a little something sweet, don’t you?” He again looked at her and blushed, which again caused her to laugh. She prattled on endlessly, proud of the estate and her hand in managing it. Rufus was content to just nod now and then and took joy in just watching and listening to her. It was easy to be with her and he darkened at the thought of having to leave.

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He stayed one more day to join her on a tour of the estate, only this time, on horseback. She came to fetch him dressed in a long tunic belted at the waist, shod in sandals, with her hair tied back in a bun, leading two saddled horses. “You ride,” he said, surprised at her casual attire? “Oh yes, I have been riding since I was a little girl. My father taught me. We always had horses when I was growing up. I hope you can ride I just assumed you would know how.” “Yes, I ride. I was also raised around horses.” They set out, riding in what seemed like a large circle, covering miles of distance. They traveled away from the villa in a westerly direction, and then doubled back to the east. At noon they stopped by a meadow, filled with wild flowers of many colors, with a large pond in its middle. The pond was surrounded by willow trees, which swayed and rustled with the light breeze. “Isn’t this a lovely spot,” she said, as she dis-mounted. She hobbled both horses, then untied a large sack that was secured behind her saddle and taking his hand, she led him to a grassy spot under a willow tree. “I come here when I want some peace and solitude. It always refreshes me.” “I can see why. It gives me a sense of peace also.” “Here we are,” she said, opening the sack, “I’ve brought us something to eat, a little bread, wine and some cheese. We make the cheese right here at the villa, it’s delicious”. As they ate the horses grazed and they talked some more. “You ride well. Where did you learn?” “My father was a sheep farmer. We kept riding horses for rounding up strays and draft animals for plowing and planting, so I learned to ride early. Where I come from all boys learned to ride at a young age.” “And where exactly was that Rufus? I mean, where were you raised?” Hesitating for an instant, for fear of revealing his true identity, he decided to trust her, with the truth. “I grew up in Etruria, the fertile plains, south of the foothills of the Alps. My father was a sheep herder, I was a shepherd boy.” She studied him quietly for a moment then said, “You have come far Rufus. A champion gladiator, a decorated soldier, a war hero, quite auspicious for a shepherd boy from Etruria.” “Yes I suppose it’s far, and I also forgot, a Roman senator would not trust a man with his wife if he hadn’t already delved into the man’s past and decided it was a good risk.” Now it was her turn to blush. “Yes it’s true. Quintus trusts no one when it comes to me, so, in a way, you are honored that he deemed you trustworthy, and he doesn’t give that trust easily. It was his idea for you to stay here for these few days to let your wound mend unbothered and away from those that clamor for your return to the arena.” “Yes, the senator is correct. I had all but forgotten my obligations in Rome. In fact, I will be leaving for the city tomorrow to see if I still have a job.” “We should be getting back. It’s getting late.” They said very little on the return trip to the villa. He could sense her withdrawal from him and wondered about it as they parted after leaving the horses at the stable. He returned to his room and saw her no more. She did not appear for his evening meal or even the next morning.

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About mid-morning a groom appeared riding a horse and leading another. “My Domina said to accompany you to Rome and make sure you arrived safely at your destination.” “Did she say anything else?” “No sir, that was all.” Rufus thought about going to the house to thank her for her hospitality, and to say goodbye, but then thought better of it. He gathered up his belongings and took the long ride back to Rome. As he and the groom parted company he bade the man to convey his profound thanks to his mistress for her grace and her hospitality. His home coming, to the school, was a huge event. Invictus, all the trainers and fellow athletes greeted him as though he had been gone for months, when it had really only been several days since he had last seen them. He had to recount the story of the rescue several times and answer many questions before Invictus finally ordered everyone back to their duties, saying to Rufus, “Come let’s retire to my apartment where we can talk a little more privately.” “Your fame has spread through Rome like a firestorm Rufus. Not only are you a champion Gladiator but you saved the life of the wife of one of Rome’s most famous sons. Quintus Antonius Vero is a very prominent figure in Roman politics and in her courts. He wields great power and influence. I have already had three new students enroll in the school, since the rescue, and I have also booked up-coming contests with two rich new customers. I am happy to say your bravery has given a much-needed boost to the school. What do you have to say about that, my friend?” “I am happy for your notoriety Invictus, but I will be out of action for a while, as you can see. My wound is still too sore to move very much and I don’t know how long it will be before I can grip a sword.” “Don’t worry about that now Rufus, just relax and the trainer will have you fit in no time. So tell me, what is the senator’s wife like, and is his villa very beautiful?” Rufus described the beauty of the Vero villa and its gardens, telling Invictus of the tasteful simplicity and the quality of its furnishings. When he began to describe Ameilia, a change came over him and Invictus picked-up on it immediately. “You are smitten by her aren’t you Rufus?” Hanging his head, Rufus admitted that he couldn’t help himself. He was in love with her. “Oh Rufus, that could be very dangerous.” He walked over to the man and put an empathetic arm across his shoulder. “This woman is a patrician Roman Rufus. She is descended from Scipio Africanus. They don’t come any nobler than she. Were you ever to act on your feelings, Vero has the legal knowledge and power to have you put to death. He could under Roman law, also have his wife put to death or at least divorce her and leave her penniless and homeless. Does she feel the same way about you?” “I don’t think so Invictus. She didn’t speak to me as my visit was coming to an end. When I was with her, my feelings were so intense, I wouldn’t have known if she was attracted to me or not.” “Well whatever the case, you must forget all about her Rufus. She is an unquenchable thirst, an unobtainable jewel and your desire could be the end of you.” “I know Invictus, you are right. Perhaps in time, I can forget her.”

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“See other women Rufus, by the Gods, there are enough of them after you. You could have your pick, especially now that you are a protector of women.” They both laughed at the humorous factuality of the observation. Rufus did try to recover from his injury. The trainers were well versed in helping a fighter to rehabilitate after a wound and although painful at first, in time, Rufus gained full flexibility of the arm and the pain lessened and eventually disappeared. The problem was in gripping the sword. Try as he might, month after month, working the muscles of his arms, he could not close his hand tightly enough to properly grip a blade. He tried sparring with opponents, using wooden swords, but whenever a downward blow caught the blade of his sword, it would fly from his hand. He and the trainers tried every means they could think of to build up the gripping muscles but the problem persisted. After a consultation, with Invictus, it was decided he would have to learn to fight with the other hand. He would have to re-learn the art of the sword from a whole new perspective. His first few sessions, with the sword in his left hand, were laughable. He still possessed the uncanny quickness, but the coordination and timing were all off. Invictus encouraged him further, even hiring a former gladiator who was left handed, to aid in the training. This helped Rufus to improve somewhat but when the sparring got very intense, the trainer would always come out on top. Rufus would become frustrated and angry, throw down his wooden weapon and shield and storm out of the training compound, barricading himself in his quarters. After one of these outbursts Invictus came to see him. “I understand your frustration Rufus.” “Do you Invictus, do you? Do you really know what it feels like to go from the best to the worst? Any trainee could defeat me; I would be the laughing stock of Rome. I could probably go back to the legion and hold my own in battle, but I have done that and I left the legions because I couldn’t fathom the senseless cruelty by leaders who didn’t know any other way to mete out discipline. I want to be a gladiator and I can’t, so how could you possibly understand?” “Why do you think I started a gladiatorial school Rufus? Look at me; I am still in reasonably good shape. I can wield a sword. Why am I not still active in the profession I teach?” “I don’t know Invictus, I never thought much about it.” “I will tell you why Rufus. I will tell you that which no other knows. I lost my nerve one day. I was also at the top of our profession and the next day I couldn’t even think of picking up a weapon and facing an armed opponent. If you had called my bluff when we first met, I would have backed down and sent more henchmen to carry out my orders. I could not have faced you in battle, I was afraid.” Rufus was stunned; he didn’t know what to say. “You see Rufus, you know what caused your talent to be mitigated. It was your wound. The wound you got saving a woman’s life. In my case, the Gods just took my talent and replaced it with fear. So you see my friend, I do know how you feel. A tear appeared at the corner of Invictus’ eye and rolled down his cheek. Rufus went to him putting a gentle knowing arm around his shoulders, saying nothing just supplying a gesture of support to his friend. After a few moments, when Invictus had collected himself Rufus said, “I am sorry for you Invictus, I had no idea. It must be very hard for you to accept the fate the Gods inflicted you with.”

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“Yes, it was hard for a time. I drank to much wine for to long a time until one day it hit me like a bolt from a thunderstorm. Why not teach what you cannot do? That was the beginning of it and here I am today. I am relatively wealthy, prominent, and I am enjoying what I do, immensely. My solution for you is simple Rufus. If your passion leaves you or is taken from you, find another passion.” The ensuing days were days of uncertainty. They consisted of Rufus taking long walks through the streets of Rome, disguised lest he be recognized. He wanted to melt into the city, become one with it, a thread in the tapestry that was Rome, and he did. He got to know the city much more intimately than he ever had before. He sampled the food of a myriad of different ethnic groups; he lived where they lived, listened to them talk and tried to understand what they were saying and why they were saying it. He avoided any confrontation or violence. He learned different systems of barter and exchange. He learned how to spot a pickpocket or a thief. Who would likely be carrying a weapon and who would not. He became one with the greatest city in the world and he learned to love her and hate her, all at the same time. In short, he became a true Roman. One afternoon, having returned to the school earlier than usual, from his frequent forays into the city, Agilinus, one of his trainers, met him at the gate. “Rufus, Invictus wanted to see you as soon as you returned. He is waiting for you in his apartment.” “What does he want to see me about Agilinus?” “I don’t know, he only said that it was very important.” His curiosity piqued, Rufus mounted the stairs to Invictus’ apartment and lightly rapped at the door. “Come in Rufus, come in. I have some exciting news to tell you.” As he entered the apartment he sensed Invictus’ was very excited with the telling of the news, whatever it was. He was beaming with a smile from ear to ear, almost childlike in his anticipation of opening a surprise package. “Here, sit here and have some wine,” Invictus said, as he handed Rufus a cup. Taking a sip from the cup Rufus said, “This must be some very special news Invictus for you to break out the Falernian, and chilled as well, what in the world has got you so excited?” “Rufus, the Gods have indeed smiled on you. Remember I spoke of replacing your old passion with a new one?” “Yes, I will never forget that conversation, but that aside, what has happened to get you so excited?” “Rufus, I spoke this morning with Senator Quintus Vero. He wants to hire you as a permanent bodyguard for his wife.” Rufus was struck speechless. He was suddenly inundated with a wave of feeling that washed over him like a sudden thunderstorm creating a deluge of rain. “I don’t know what to say.” “Say yes Rufus, say yes. The senator will pay you a fair wage. Your keep is assured and you will have private quarters at his villa or here in Rome, as the occasion arises. You will accompany the lady Ameilia on any trip she wants to take and you will protect her and her attendants against any threat that may arise. This is a dream job Rufus.” “What will I do when there are no trips Invictus?”

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“The senator said you would also be the head overseer to his servants at these two locations. You will see that they attend to their duties and keep them in line. You will also have full authority over them. You will have the power to dismiss them or hire new ones as the need arises. Well, what do you say my friend, isn’t this the best news ever?” “I don’t know what to say, it is all so sudden and unexpected. I must think about it.” “Well Rufus I’m afraid you don’t have too long to do that. The senator is in Rome now and wants his answer tomorrow. If I were you I would take the job.” “You know how I feel about this woman Invictus!” “Yes I know, but this opportunity is too great to pass up Rufus. You must apply some self-discipline and take advantage of this situation. You can arrange to have someone around you at all times, so that you’re never alone with her and if you meet some other woman, she could also become an employee of the senator.” “It is still all muddled in my mind Invictus. I am going to retire to my apartment to take some time to sort this all out.” The next day the senator sent his personal aide to the school for Rufus’ answer. Rufus was summoned and the aide, Rufus and Invictus all assembled in Invictus’ apartment to confer over a cup of wine. The aide remarked on the excellent vintage served by the host and seemed calm and patient waiting for Rufus’ decision. After the social amenities, about the excellent weather were exchanged, speaking directly to Rufus, the aide said, “The senator is leaving tomorrow afternoon for his villa to the north of the city. He would like to have your answer to his offer. Have you decided sir?” Rufus paused for a moment, looked at Invictus, who gave him a smile and a slight nod, and answered, “Yes I will accept the senator’s offer.” “Excellent,” the aide said. “The senator will be pleased. There will be a wagon sent shortly to transport your belongings and a horse for you to ride. You can meet our procession tomorrow, at the eleventh hour, at the north gate, where the Via Flaminia enters the city.” “How will I know your procession,” Rufus asked? The aide laughed saying, “It will be the longest and most attended, leaving the city. The senator likes to travel in comfort and style when he is abroad. We will arrive at the villa by sunset. If there are any other questions, the man picking up your baggage will be able to answer them for you. I will guide your way once you meet the procession, and please, do not be late.” Once the aide had departed, Invictus seized Rufus by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You have found another passion Rufus. The senator is a great man and it is fitting that a great fighter like you guards his wife. I hope you realize this. I also hope you know that you will be rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. Perhaps the senator would like me to arrange a gladiatorial combat for entertainment at one of his parties.” Rufus smiled at this comment and said, “I know it is a great honor Invictus and the opportunity of a lifetime. I have thought much about it since hearing the offer and I realize if I can no longer fight in the arena then I can certainly do this job. I have some misgivings though, as you know.” “Ah Rufus, Rufus, you worry too much. I have no fear that you will control that particular situation, besides you must keep your weapons skills as sharp as always. This will require frequent workouts. You will be so busy with your duties and workouts; you

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won’t even have time to think about, ‘You know who’. Now let’s have a little more wine and I will help you pack.” The journey to the Vero villa was protracted by the slow movement of the procession. Rufus didn’t count them but there must have been well over one hundred people and almost as many beasts of burden. The senator rode at the head of the procession on a magnificent white stallion. Rufus own mount that had been provided for him was a fair beast, but nothing compared to the splendor of the senator’s mount. Rufus had accumulated an appreciable sum of money, from his pay as a gladiator. He also had received several bonuses when Invictus’ client had been exceptionally pleased at the performance, but he wondered as he rode along, on the hot dusty trail, what it would be like to be truly wealthy, like the senator. It was hot in Italy that summer, but not as hot as it would have been if they had stayed in Rome. Rufus learned that the very wealthy, which included most of Rome’s politicians, left the city in the hot summer months, all retiring to their summer homes to dally until the heat left the city and she was temperate once again. As the warm months flew by, Rufus quickly learned his new duties. He immediately identified the trouble spots in the hierarchy of the household staff and established himself as someone not to be crossed or trifled with. He soon had the entire staff content and working in harmony. The senator would occasionally remark, to Rufus, what a fine job he was doing. He saw little of Ameilia and when he did have to converse with her, she was cool and somewhat aloof. As time passed, and being sure no one was looking, he would secretly follow her with his eyes, watching her graceful movements, hypnotized by her beauty, which seemed to grow with each passing day. Once she caught him looking at her, blushed, dropped her eyes and hurried away to attend to another fictitious task. As summer ended and the crisp coolness of fall came, the senator and his retinue returned to Rome leaving Ameilia to stay at the villa. It wasn’t long before word was sent to Rufus that they would be taking a trip into the city and that he should prepare for relocation to the Vero estate there. If anything, the Vero estate in Rome was even more luxurious than the villa. Here Ameilia was the master in charge. He watched her assume control of the servants and where he supervised through intimidation, she accomplished the same results with wisdom, patience and understanding. The household staff loved her and treated as one of their own, yet always maintaining the unspoken separation between servant and master. He watched her plan and execute lavish dinner parties and splendid receptions and he realized that she was highly intelligent and her organizational skills were formidable as well. She was definitely good at being a senator’s wife and performed her role flawlessly. He observed how the senator showcased her charms, to his constituents, whom she beguiled shamelessly, much to their obvious delight. He also noticed that the most physical contact, the senator ever displayed toward her, was a peck on the cheek or an arm around her shoulder, and a limited amount of it, at that. He used the times of relief from his overseer duties to practice with weapons. There was a small-enclosed courtyard, adjacent to the kitchen that was well suited for this. He would wear a light tunic, belted at the waist, to practice his skill with the sword, and although he never actually saw anyone, he knew he was being watched as he executed his drills. When the day was hot, he would often strip to the waist and do his drills dressed in only a loincloth. Even with his lack of fighting, his body was still in

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excellent condition and he would work up a sweat and his heated body would glisten with the sun highlighting the movement of his rippling muscles. He would perform his drills for hours then he would pause for a few moments to rest, take a drink and began his routines again, until his body ached and he was exhausted. On one such occasion Ameilia came looking for him in the courtyard. She emerged from the kitchen calling his name. As she saw him she took a step backward, catching her breath, as she did so, while her hand involuntarily went to her throat. Breathless and covered with sweat he said.” Yes Domina, I am here. What is it you wish?” She stood saying nothing just devouring him with her eyes. Quickly regaining her composure she said, “I just wanted to inform you that I will be going to the Forum to do some shopping this afternoon and I wanted to give you ample time to prepare.” “I will be ready as soon as I can bathe,” he said. “There is no hurry,” she said, “It will be about mid-afternoon.” She was smiling now but not making eye contact with him. “Is there something wrong Domina, you seemed a bit disturbed?” “No it’s nothing really, its just that I haven’t seen a half naked man for a long time and it took me a little off guard,” she said, as she turned on her heel, blushing and chuckling, walked into the house. The shopping excursion went as planned. Ameilia and her personal servant occupied a covered litter, carried by four burly bearers. Another attendant, named Carreppus walked behind and Rufus led the group, armed with a short sword and dagger all concealed under his legionnaires cloak. Normally the cloak was uncomfortably warm but Ameilia insisted on it because she didn’t want any show of weapons in her retinue. This afternoon the sky had clouded over threatening rain, and the lack of sun produced a slight chill in the air, which actually made the cloak feel good wrapped around his body. As they approached the temple of Saturn, Rufus sensed, before he actually saw, some sort of commotion up ahead. He quickly assessed the situation and correctly guessed that this was some sort of confrontation between political foes. He knew, from his knowledge of the city, that these melees could become dangerous and even deadly as they quickly escalated. He could see the noisy crowd gathering in front of the Curia and moving steadily toward them. Ameilia had looked out from behind the curtain of their litter to see what was going on. “Domina there is a civil disturbance up ahead, draw the curtains and stay inside the litter.” “But what is it Rufus, what is going on?” Looking directly into her eyes he said, “Ameilia, I can only protect you if you stay where you are. You must trust me and do as I say.” Returning his gaze, just as directly, she said, “I do trust you Rufus, I will do as you say.” The crowd of shouting struggling men was now almost upon them. Rufus could see that some of the participants were armed with clubs and some even had swords. Realizing they had no chance of coming out of the encounter unscathed, if they stayed where they were, Rufus acted. He quickly approached the head litter bearer and clamped an iron grip on the man’s shoulder. “Reverse your direction and take the litter to the temple of Castor and Pollux. Do you know where it is?” The man nodded nervously. “Go inside and wait there for me, until I come for you. Follow my directions exactly, this is a matter of life and death, now go!” As the litter swung around to reverse direction, Rufus reached inside, grabbed Ameilia by the hand and pulled her from the litter. Her handmaid

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raised a protest but Rufus silenced her with a glaring look and motioned for her to stay with the group. Rufus and Ameilia were now in the midst of the pitched battle. Men were falling all around them, clubbed or stabbed, as it were. Rufus’ destination was the Curia, which was exactly where the fight had begun. It represented the safest place. The battle was now a full-blown riot with ordinary people caught up in it as the violence spread. When the pair reached the Curia Rufus ran down alongside it in order to come into the building from the rear, unnoticed. Halfway to their goal they were confronted by a group of five men armed with clubs. Rufus could see the blood lust in their eyes. “There”, one of them shouted, “He is carrying a sword, he must be one of Saturninus’ men. Take him down and his woman too.” Rufus didn’t wait for them to attack. He let go of Amelia’s hand and plunged into their midst. In two lightening quick strikes, with the sword and dagger, the odds were down to three to one. Seeing two of their group either dead or wounded, the group collected itself, and realized they had a formidable opponent. The leader motioned for the other two to surround Rufus and advanced. “Let us pass and I will let you live,” Rufus said to the man. “Hah, three against one, you have no chance,” he said, as he continued his advance. Rufus anticipated his lunge and side stepped it and drove the hilt of his sword down into the back of the man’s neck. Rufus could actually hear the man’s spine snap as he fell lifeless to the cobblestones. Rufus felt a sharp blow from behind as a club rained down on his right shoulder causing him to drop his dagger. With his sword in his left hand, he went down on one knee and with a sweeping backhand blow, severed the leg of his attacker, who fell to the ground screaming in pain. Rolling onto his back Rufus tensed to block a blow that he knew was coming from the remaining assailant. The man stood over him raised his club and instead of attacking, he wobbled a bit and then collapsed on top of Rufus, with the dagger, Rufus had dropped, protruding from his back. Ameilia was standing there, hands to her mouth, horrified at what she had done. Rufus rose, went to her and took her in his arms. She started to sob hysterically and it took several moments to calm her enough to go on. “It is all right Domina, you had no choice, you saved my life today and you had to take a life to do it. I know it is never a pleasant task to take someone’s life.” “Oh Rufus, I, I, it is too horrible to think of it. I shall live that moment in my nightmares forever.” “No Domina, in time the horror of it will pass, I promise you.” At that instant the skies opened up and a deluge of rain poured down. The rain was so intense it was washing away the blood of the dead and wounded. This will surely end the riot, Rufus thought. “Come Domina, we should get out of the rain. We will go to the Curia. It will be dry and safe there and when the rain lets up, we can re-join the litter party and go home.” She was soaked to the skin. Her light fabric dress afforded no warmth and by the time they reached the marble columned structure, she was shivering violently. Rufus had guessed correctly, the Curia was deserted and they would be safe now. “I’m cold Rufus,” she said, still shaking. “Here, take my cloak. It is a legionnaire’s cloak, warm even when wet.” “Wait,” she said, “Keep it on, and just gather it over me.” “I don’t think that is a good idea Domina we will be to close to each other.”

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“Nonsense, it will warm us more quickly, and please don’t call me Domina, it makes me feel old.” As he slipped the cloak over her head, she stepped in close to him. Her thin clothing was so wet, it was almost as if she were naked and he could feel the curves of her body as she pressed against him. “There,” she said, “Isn’t that better?” The scent of her was intoxicating. Having her this close to him felt right, yet, it also felt wrong. She looked up at him; her lips were only inches from his own. He could feel himself becoming helpless, lost in her eyes. His love for her welled up inside him and he kissed her, tenderly at first, then more passionately as she responded to his caress. They broke apart, breathless. “Oh Rufus, I have wanted you to do that for so very long. Is it so wrong for us to love one another?” She spoke into his lips then pressed hers hungrily to his, seeking his tongue with her own. She was fully against him now seeking his manhood, wanting it inside her, warm, hard and intimate. She lifted her garment at the same moment as he picked her up and entered her. She felt light in his arms as she nestled her face and lips into the curve of his neck, moaning his name, over and over. They held each other this way, motionless, for what seemed like an eternity of bliss; then as if one, they moved against each other, rhythmically, passionately, conscious of every surface of warm, moist, intimate contact. They reached climax at the same instant of time, she crying out his name, he crying out hers; holding her as tight as he dared, without hurting her. They held each other, like that, for an instant that seemed like a lifetime, under the cloak, spent; each being as happy as they had ever been before. Their love now finally, consummated in the way meant for lovers, he one with her, she one with him. After a time, he freed himself of their scarlet shelter and wrapped it around her. The rain had stopped and the late afternoon sun was emerging from behind the clouds. They left the Curia and made their way to the temple of Castor and Pollux. The litter team, and servants were waiting there, as instructed, anxious about the fate of their mistress. Rufus could see the look of relief on their faces as they realized that she was all right. “Is everyone here all right,” Rufus asked? They all responded favorably so the tiny procession formed up and made its way back to the safety of the Vero estate. Calm had now settled over the city once more. As a result of the political riots, many innocent people had been killed. The violence had been short lived but looting and a great destruction of property had resulted and the following day brought the telling of the ugly details. “We were fortunate to escape with our lives,” Rufus related factually, to the senator, when the litter party was quizzed about their experience. Rufus noticed that Carreppus gave him an unusual look during the telling of the story, but he didn’t think anything of it at the time. Privately with the senator, Rufus explained his thinking and the reason for his actions. He explained that he left the litter party and struck out alone with the lady Ameilia because they were about to be engulfed by the mob. He told the senator that he had actually used the litter party as a decoy to lure the mob away from him and his charge. “I didn’t like putting them at risk Dominus, but I felt if their death distracted the mob from my mistress, then my action was justified. As it turned out we all escaped the violence and came away unharmed.” “I agree Rufus, your choices proved to be correct and I laud you on your good judgment and swift action. I now know that I chose the right man for the job and I again thank you for saving my wife’s life. Well-done Rufus. Oh, bye the way, your pay this month will have a little something extra in it.” The rest of the household staff quickly

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became aware of the previous days events and Rufus detected a new level of respect from them. Only Carreppus seemed to avoid any contact with him and when they did chance to meet, the man could not meet Rufus’ gaze and hurried away at the earliest opportunity. In the days that followed the senator was in residence and Rufus had no contact with Ameilia. She always seemed to be entertaining some guest or planning some future event. When he did chance to see her, she offered a quick demure smile and quickly resumed her mistress duties. Once when in his practice yard, drilling with the sword, he felt as though some one were watching him. Without warning he turned quickly to catch her watching him from behind a curtain in an upstairs bedroom. They locked eyes for a brief instant and their unspoken love passed, one to the other. He knew that she truly loved him, just as he loved her. He longed to touch her and he hoped she would come to him but she kept her distance both knowing that what they felt was very dangerous. Rufus remained content just being around her and drinking in her beauty whenever the opportunity presented itself. Mid-summer was fast approaching and Rufus knew they would soon be moving to the country villa. When Rufus was summoned to the senator’s office, one sultry morning, he thought that the coming move was the reason. Little did he know that the next few minutes would again, change his life forever. As he entered the senator’s library he was surprised to see Ameilia there. She was sitting in a backless cushioned chair, a white kerchief was wound tightly around one hand, her face was flushed and she had been crying. “Come in Rufus and close the door,” the senator barked. Rufus didn’t know what had happened but the tension in the room was palpable. “Do you know why I called you here,” the senator asked? “No Dominus, I don’t, although, I can see you are very upset so it must be something very important.” “Oh yes Rufus. In fact, it may be a matter of life and death, your death to be exact.” Rufus was suddenly afraid and he felt very vulnerable, not so much for himself but for Ameilia, who was quivering with fear. As the senator was speaking, it burst into his consciousness like a bolt of lightening. Somehow he had learned of their indiscretion and he was now the betrayed jealous husband. “I can explain Dominus. It wasn’t her fault. I forced myself on her, she had no choice.” Ameilia glanced quickly at Rufus acknowledging his effort to save her, then dropped her eyes and sat silently weeping. “Do not insult me by taking me for a fool Rufus. Not only do I know about your affair, there is another matter even worse. Ameilia is going to have a baby, did you know that.”? Rufus was stunned. He stumbled backwards and would have fallen had not the wall behind held him up. He opened his mouth to speak and nothing would come out. After long speechless moments he found his shaking voice. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled, “I didn’t know.” “Well a bit of truth at last. I can tell by your reaction that you hadn’t been informed about the child. Well maybe you now have an inkling of how I felt when I was informed about the indiscretion and then when I confronted my beautiful wife here, she broke down and told me about her condition. She said she couldn’t live with the guilt anymore.”

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“Dominus there are no words to erase my transgression but please, exact your vengeance on me and allow your wife to live.” “Do you love her Rufus? Of all the women who have offered themselves to you, do you truly love the one woman who belongs to another man? Well do you?” “Yes Dominus, I love her with all my being. I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself. Now that you know the truth, what do you intend to do?” “I must admit, at first I thought about divorcing her and banishing her to Herculaneum. You, I wanted to have you flayed alive but after I calmed down a bit I thought of a more useful punishment. No Rufus I will not harm you or my wife. You will remain as her bodyguard and as staff overseer, just as before but there will be no physical contact between the two of you. You will be watched closely and if I hear of you so much as touching the hem of her garment, I will have her crucified and you will be made to watch, after which, I will have you crucified. Do you understand me Rufus?” “Yes Dominus, I understand.” “Good, and one more thing. The child, I will raise as my own. I have no son, so if it should be a boy he will be my heir. If it is a girl, then I will have a daughter to marry off to keep my political strength intact. You will also never be allowed to acknowledge your parenthood to the child. If you do, all three of you will be killed. Just to let you know how committed I am to all of this, the informer, about your liaison with my wife, was Carreppus. He has been put to death. There will be no scandal attached to the Vero name. If word of this ever leaks out, I will know it was one of you and the sentences I spoke of, will be carried out. Now, is all that I have said clear to you Rufus, and to you Ameilia?” “Yes Quintus,” she answered. “Yes Dominus,” Rufus answered. “Good, and now that’s all settled, the city is growing hotter each day so you may inform the staff they have two days to prepare for our journey to our summer home. See to it.” “Yes Dominus, I will see to it at once.” The baby was born in the early spring at the Vero villa. It was a baby boy and the proud senator and his wife named him Claudius Marcus Vero.

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Chapter VI Unmasked Claudius loved days such as this one. The sun was dominant in the sky except for a few wispy clouds. A brisk sea breeze was blowing in off the ocean freshening the air and sending the odors of the city to lose themselves in the hills overlooking Brundisium. He was carrying a brand new block and tackle and it was slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He could smell the newness of the wood and the ropes attached to it. It was an oily smell, well familiar to one who lived and worked in a shipyard. Faberius would be pleased to get the new gear. The old tackle had failed two market intervals ago and some work on the new Trireme, for the Roman Navy, had been delayed as a result. The new pulleys will be put to work right away, he thought. As he ambled along, Claudius spotted Galbus walking toward him on the opposite side of the broad thoroughfare that ran through the yard. He was gesturing and conversing, quite animatedly with a tall, official looking stranger, walking with him. As the pair approached, Claudius could see the man was clad in military fashion. He was helmet less but there was no mistaking the tunic, leather armor, the military boots and flowing red cloak, as being anything other than military. He was an officer of high rank armed with a sword and dagger. Claudius could sense something vaguely familiar about the man. Galbus waved and Claudius waved back, and as he did, the official looked directly at him. It struck Claudius like a clap of thunder. It was Drusus, his boyhood foe, the man he had humiliated, just before leaving his home so long ago. Claudius quickly shifted his burden to his opposite shoulder, effectively shielding his face, and hurried on his way. His mind began whirling around, then panic set in. The bottom dropped out of his stomach; he felt nauseous, his breathing was coming in short gasps. He stopped to collect himself by taking several long deep breaths then continued on his way. Drusus, his old foe; why was he here in Brundisium? Did he recognize me? Is he here to apprehend me? The thoughts raced through Claudius’ mind. Rufus will know what to do. He dropped off his burden at the shipwright shed, made his excuses to Faberius and left to find Rufus. His mind was still racing. When was the last time I felt this way? Perhaps it was the day after the attack by Sulla’s men? Yes, that was the last time I felt this helpless and very much out of control. Just then, he spotted Rufus leaving the Overseer’s office. Rufus caught sight of him, due to the frantic waving of his arms, and hurried over to him. “Claudius, what’s wrong? You seem agitated.” Nervously looking around Claudius took Rufus by the arm and led him toward the sail loft. Once inside, Rufus took control of the situation, and grasped Claudius by the shoulders. “Enough of this nonsense just tell me what’s going on? Why are you so edgy?” “It’s Drusus, I saw him here at the shipyard. He saw me but I don’t think he recognized me.” “Drusus, by the Gods; what would he be doing here? Rufus thought for a moment. Ah, it just occurred to me. He would be the ‘Inspector of Ships’, from Rome,

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that Galbus has been expecting. Galbus said he arrived here several days ago and today he was to tour the yard and the ship construction area. He’s not here about you Claudius; he’s here to inspect the new Trireme we are building for the Roman Navy. Galbus was quite anxious about this inspection. He told me that this inspector holds the rank of Tribune in the Roman Navy and reports directly to Pompey himself. This ship we are building is to be part of a new fleet that will be commissioned to root out the Cilician Pirates, and destroy them. This is a huge naval undertaking and has the full backing of the entire Roman senate. Galbus said this man has the power to approve or disapprove our work, if it doesn’t measure up to his standards.” “What are we going to do?” “First we calm down a bit and collect our wits to plan a course of action. Stay here for now and lay low. I will find Galbus and tell him about the situation. This Drusus doesn’t know me, so I can size him up if he is still with Galbus. If not, we can at least get Galbus to steer him away from you, for the time being.” As Rufus sets off to find Galbus and rounds the corner of the building, he nearly runs into Crixus. “Rufus, have you seen Claudius? I have been looking for him everywhere. Faberius needs him and sent me to find him.” “No Crixus, I haven’t seen him. He may be down at the pier looking after his boat. Why don’t you try there?” “I will and thanks Rufus,” he said, as he made an about face, heading in the direction of the pier. When Rufus was out of sight, Crixus doubled back toward the sail loft. He made a wide circle to approach the rear of the building. There were windows there, twice a man’s height above the ground. Carefully and silently Crixus stacked up several crates until he could climb up to one of the windows. Shielding his eyes, he peered in the window. He could see Claudius pacing back and forth along the sewing tables. He seems worried, he thought to himself. That is good, now I will get my chance to avenge the humiliation he caused me. Crixus burst through the door just as Claudius reached for it. Claudius was so startled, he backed into a table gripping its edge with both hands. “Crixus, you surprised me, why are you in such a hurry? What is going on?” Claudius could immediately sense something wrong. Crixus had a superior little smirk on his face and approached Claudius, in a swagger, with both hands on his hips. “I met someone very interesting today Claudius. He was with Galbus and they happened to come into the blacksmith’s shop. You knew I had been working there, since Faberius passed me over to choose you as his assistant, didn’t you Claudius?” “Yes, I had heard as much Crixus, but what’s that got to do with me?” Pausing for effect, and retaining the smug look, Crixus said, “Well, it seems I got to chatting with this man and I was admiring his uniform and his weapons and I asked him about his sword. It was a handsome weapon, and quite unusual. The pommel formed the head of an eagle and it was inlaid with gold and silver; you should have seen it. His father gave it to him as a gift when he received his appointment to the office he holds, which is as an inspector for the Roman Navy.” “Yes, yes, Crixus, just get on with it, what has all this to do with me?”

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“Well it seems this Tribune, I believe his name was Drusus, is somewhat of a competitive swordsman. Oh not like a Gladiator or anything like that. He just competes to demonstrate his skill with a sword. He says he is quite good at it, and he also said he’s never been beaten. When I heard all of this I just happened to mention that we had an excellent swordsman right here at the yard. I also told him that perhaps a friendly match could be arranged.” By now Claudius was on to the game and decided to play along to find out just what Crixus had revealed. “Who would this mysterious swordsman be Crixus?” “Why the mysterious swordsman is you Claudius, it would be you.” “You must be frequenting the taverns again Crixus. I don’t know how to handle a sword, let alone fight with one. I only know how to build boats.” “Oh really Claudius, come now, don’t be so modest. I have observed Rufus training you in the use of the sword many times. You know, about a mile down the beach, near that big log, that’s embedded in the sand? You know the one I mean? I noticed you were quite clumsy at first, but in time, you got much better. I even saw you best your teacher once. I would say that you are quite good with the sword Claudius.” ”You spied on me you gutless sot!” “My, my Claudius, what an imagination you have. I was strolling on the beach and I happened to stop to watch. What’s wrong with that?” “All right Crixus, so you know I can use a sword; so what is it going to get you?” “I know what it’s going to get you Claudius. It’s going to get you a good beating, that’s what it’s going to get you. As far as I’m concerned; well I guess all I’ll get is the satisfaction of seeing you finally get what’s coming to you, and that, my ass kissing job stealing friend, is more than enough for me.” “You have not won yet Crixus. I will just refuse to fight with this stranger and that will be the end of your gloating.” “That may be Claudius, but I gave you quite a build-up and this Drusus seemed quite anxious to test your skill. I don’t know for sure, but he struck me as a man who gets what he wants, you know, the rich and spoiled type. Don’t be too sure about refusing to fight. Anyway, I told him your name and where to find you, so you will probably be hearing from him soon.” Claudius was crest-fallen. He knew that his plight had worsened; with Crixus’ meddling. “Well Claudius, it’s getting late and I must return to work at the Smithy. I hope the rest of your day will go well. Who knows, I may get another chance at the shipwright’s job soon. Perhaps Faberius won’t think so much of you after this Drusus humiliates you just as you humiliated me.” Crixus began to laugh as he left the sail loft and Claudius could hear his loud laughter echoing off the neighboring buildings as he casually strolled between them. That evening around the supper table, the atmosphere was glum. “We have what we call a ‘pickle’ here my friends,” Galbus said. “This Drusus has a large staff here with him. He is a ‘Tribune of the Plebs’ and has a great deal of authority.” “Does he have enough authority to cancel the contract for the Trireme Galbus?” “Yes, I’m afraid he does. The question is, will he? He hinted to me today that a refusal to his request for a match is not an option. That is a veiled threat if I ever heard one. The news, of a coming match, has spread through the yard like wildfire. The

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workers are already laying their bets as to who will prevail. I heard the prospect of such a match has even captured the interest of the odds makers in Brundisium.” “What if I choose my right not to fight?” Rufus and Galbus exchanged looks, but said nothing. The silence was awkward. “You don’t have to tell me. I know the answer to my own question. He will close out the contract and a lot of workers will be thrown out of a job. That’s it, isn’t it?” The two men only nodded their assent and said nothing. Finally, after a long pause, Galbus said, “I know you don’t want to do this Claudius and I don’t blame you but, you must face the reality of this situation. Building a Trireme is a huge undertaking. This ship is the largest vessel we have ever produced here. We have been working on her for these many months and she is only half complete. If this contract with the Roman Navy is cancelled, hundreds of men will be idled. There is some work scheduled ahead but nothing of this magnitude. Also, and perhaps more importantly, loss of this job will severely damage our reputation. Any ship owners, wanting to add to their fleets, will think twice about hiring us if we’re scuttled by the Roman Navy.” “What exactly will this fight entail?” “I have made some discrete inquiries. It seems Drusus just wants to fight with sheathed swords, shields and greaves, helmets optional. You will face each other in a suitable location and have at it. When one combatant can’t continue for whatever reason, the other is declared the winner.” “What does sheathed swords mean Rufus?” Hesitating a bit, Rufus said, “It means, real swords covered with a wooden sleeve slipped over the blade and lashed to the hilt so it can’t dislodge. The sword can then be used with the edge protected so it can’t cut. However, one can still receive a good clout, like being hit with a club.” “Yes I seem to remember a similar thing happening to me when I was a boy!” Rufus relived the memory and avoided eye contact with Claudius. “Does he fight this way often Rufus?” “His staff member, I spoke to, says yes. He has fought this way, many times, in Rome.” “How good is he?” “According to this intermediary, he has been in over a hundred matches and he has never lost.” A groan escaped from Claudius. “Other than you Rufus, I have never faced an armed opponent in a match. I have only imagined that part.” “Claudius, do not underestimate your ability. You are a fine swordsman, Make no mistake.” “With all due respect Rufus, when we sparred I noticed that I could have disarmed you with a strong downward blow.” Rufus looked a bit sheepish, and then explained to Claudius the reason for his weakness. “When I was a gladiator I saved a woman’s life, in the streets of Rome, she was being threatened by a deranged client of her husband. I, and two soldiers had the man subdued, but he broke free, produced a hidden blade and plunged it here,” Rufus said, pointing to a scar on the underside of his right bicep. “After that wound I had to retire from the arena because I was never again able to properly grip a sword. That woman was

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your mother Claudius. That was how we met and I was subsequently hired, by your father, to be her permanent bodyguard.” “I never knew of this Rufus. Why didn’t you tell me before?” “I didn’t want you to make allowances for my weakness, yet I now know, you did anyway.” “I never let on about your weakness out of respect for you and what you were doing for me Rufus; but this is different. This man is cruel. He will try to hurt me and humiliate me, under the guise of this being a friendly bout of swordplay.” Claudius then related, to Galbus, the story of the beating he had received, at the hands of Drusus and his friends, and how he had later returned to the Drusus villa and delivered a beating of his own. “Do you think he knows who you are Claudius? Do you think he remembers, after all this time?” “Would you ever forget someone who beat you unconscious Galbus?” Galbus only nodded in understanding. Rufus looked at Claudius a moment then spoke, “Thank you for your act of respect for me Claudius. You were well reared to conduct yourself the way you did. Your mother and father did a fine job in raising you, for you to have such strong ethics. I will only speak of this once more and then the final decision rests with you. You are a fine swordsman. Your skill far surpasses any that I ever encountered in my experience, with the legions, and even my short-lived experience in the arena. If you decide to fight this pompous peacock, I have no doubt you will prevail. In fact, I am so confidant in your ability, I already placed a wager on you to win the match.” “You did? How much did you bet Rufus?” “I put up my entire life savings Claudius.” “I don’t know what to say.” Galbus chimed in. “I also have faith in you Claudius. I too wagered a considerable sum of money.” Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts and placing the tips of his fingers to his temples, Claudius said, “I guess it’s settled then. The day after tomorrow I will fight this Drusus and put him on his aristocratic Roman ass.” The comment broke the tension of the moment and all three men laughed, with Galbus adding “This calls for wine. We will drink to your coming victory Claudius, and let’s not forget, a toast to our coming wealth.” News of the impending match spread throughout the entire shipyard and, as expected, to the gamblers of Brundisium. At noon, on the appointed day, the site of the contest was thronged with hundreds of spectators. Every possible vantage point, for viewing the match, was occupied. The chosen area was a large open space next to the gigantic shed, where the hull of the new Trireme was being built. Rufus, Galbus and Aggie had seats on a small balcony that jutted out from the shed, one story above ground level; and as one would imagine, the boss of the shipyard had the best seats in the house. Some of Drusus’ staff, acting as officials, took over the task of setting the scene. A thirty-foot square was roped off, in effect, creating an arena. The largest shipyard workers were placed at the four corners and at intervals along the square’s sides. These

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men were armed with stout clubs and their job was to keep the roped-off area clear of unauthorized people and the crowd along the ropes, at bay. The wagering and odds making had been going on heavily for two days. It wasn’t every day one got to see a Roman blue-blood in a swordfight with a yard worker, even if it was with wood-shielded weapons. The rules official for the match was another member from Drusus’ group. He had done this service many times before and reviewed the rules with the combatants. The rules were simple. Blows above the shoulders and below the waist, were not allowed. The shield could only be used for defense and if an opponent dropped his weapon, he would be allowed to retrieve it. A violation of any rule was cause for the disqualification of the offender and the award of the victory to his opponent. As Claudius entered the arena the crowd cheered wildly for one of its own. When Drusus entered, the crowd fell eerily silent, only murmuring amongst themselves as they sized up this noble stranger. He looks very confidant, Claudius thought, while here I am nervous as a cat in a room full of dogs. Both men were dressed in lightweight tunics, belted at the waist, with laced sandals for footwear; each man was given a shield and a set of greaves to protect the shins. Each combatant was assisted with his equipment and given their weapons. When Claudius was handed his sheathed sword, he rejected it and produced a wrapped bundle he had been carrying and handed it to the attendant. “I want to fight with this instead,” he said. “As you wish sir,” the attendant said, unwrapping the bundle. The sword Aggie had given Claudius caused the crowd to murmur. “This is a fine weapon young sir,” the attendant said, as he briefly admired it then transferred the wooden sheath to Claudius’ sword, and lashed it down. Claudius watched Drusus’ warm-up exercises and mimicked whatever he did. Drusus noticed this and a slight smile curled the corners of his mouth. He has grown much taller than me, Claudius thought, and he looks very fit. As he prepared, Claudius looked up at Rufus seated above him. He could see Rufus mouth the words, “remember your training”, while motioning, with his hands, to calm down. How could he be calm? All the months of training came rushing to him in a flood. The drills, lessons, techniques, returned to him as a raging torrent of information; each aspect trying to wend its way into his conscious thought, and he, unable to focus, on any single one. Drusus hefted his sword, with the wooden sheath, swinging it back and forth, slowly at first, then with gathering speed until it was a blur of motion. He is warming his muscles, Claudius surmised, and did the same. There it was, just as Crixus had said, the pommel of Drusus’ sword was the head of an eagle. The eagle’s beak protruded out a distance from Drusus’ gripped fist. The end of the eagle beak was hooked and looked very sharp. That’s odd, Claudius thought, and then it struck him, that beak is designed to cut and tear. Drusus doesn’t want to kill me, but he intends to leave me some painful tokens of this encounter. We shall just see about that, Claudius thought.

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One of Rufus’ constant phrases then leapt into his mind. “Never become angry,” there it was, the training, asserting itself. Now it was Claudius’ turn to display a knowing smile. Just as Rufus had said, “The training will take over when you need it but you must be patient.” He made a concerted effort to calm his nerves and to clear his mind. He thought of sitting at his mother’s feet, while she read to him gently stroking his hair, and he felt a peaceful calm envelope him. “Ready,” shouted the referee, motioning to each combatant? Each contestant nodded and the match began. Without hesitation and with no preamble, Drusus launched a furious attack. Blow after blow whacked off of Claudius’ shield, driving him ever backward until he felt the rope and the crowd directly behind him. This attack is much quicker than anything Rufus ever threw at me, he thought. Then he felt Rufus’ presence. “Adjust your attack to that of your attacker.” Claudius then launched a furious attack of his own. Drusus, looking for a quick easy victory, now stepped away and circled. Claudius could detect a new look of respect, in his eyes, when Drusus realized he had a formidable opponent. Now each man settled in and matched the other’s skill. Probe for a weakness, block, and parry thrust, just as he had done, thousands of times, over many months. It was in fact a cadence Claudius still did. He thought of a little poem Rufus used to recite as they sparred on the beach, time after time, “Do your drills to maintain your skills, or you will lose them”; and Claudius had done so, nearly every day, for a very long time. Attacking Drusus with renewed vigor he thought, this is what I have been trained to do. All the hours I spent will now bear fruit. Claudius’ physical conditioning now became apparent. Both men were perspiring freely but Drusus was breathing heavily while Claudius’ seemed controlled, and effortless. Claudius now noticed the speed of Drusus’ body was unable to match the speed of his mind. Drusus appeared to be tiring. Up to this point, neither man had landed any serious blows. Some of Claudius’ thrusts were now getting through Drusus’ defenses, as some small welts had magically appeared on Drusus’ arms and shoulders. Then it happened. Retreating from Claudius’ next assault, Drusus’ feet became entangled and he went down, falling backward in a heap. The referee stepped in and put a restraining hand on Claudius’ arm and said to Drusus, “Are you able to continue or do you concede the match?” “I am all right,” Drusus said, “I want to continue. Just give me a moment.” As he spoke the words, Claudius could see Drusus’ hands and arms moving behind his shield. Suddenly Drusus sprang to his feet. He flicked his wrist and the wooden sheath, on his sword, flew away, exposing the naked blade. The referee looked at Drusus, nodded and quickly stepped out of the ring. Drusus pointed, with his sword, to the balcony above them. Claudius swung around and could see armed men had restrained Rufus, Galbus and Aggie. Each one of his friends had a dagger to their throat. Even the armed arena marshals had been disarmed and were being held at bay by Drusus’ men. Suddenly, Drusus didn’t appear to be tired anymore. “Claudius Marcus Vero, my old friend, neighbor and classmate, how good it is to see you after all these years. You didn’t think I had forgotten about you, did you little sleeper boy?” “I can see you remembered me quite well Drusus. Your plan is very elaborate. You must have been working on it non-stop since you saw me.”

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“You are quite correct Vero, I have, and now that you have seen it executed, I am going to execute you, right here in front of all your friends and coworkers.” Claudius looked to release the wood sheath from his sword, but Drusus was upon him in an instant. Claudius could only retreat and defend to keep from being killed, his wooden shield rapidly turning to splinters before his eyes. Drusus pressed his attack with renewed vigor, landing blow after blow. His seeming to tire had only been an act. “I too am in excellent physical condition, Vero,” Drusus said, as he prowled the ring preparing to launch another attack. “I work on my sword drills every day and I even kill an opponent now and then; you know, accidentally.” “You never do anything by accident you scheming snake.” As Drusus circled, Claudius saw a small arm jut out from between the legs of the onlookers. There was a white cloth tied around the wrist and the hand held a small dagger. Drusus’ next assault was a furious one and Claudius had all he could do to fend it off, but he managed to move closer to the small arm, still protruding from the crowd of legs. Suddenly there was a loud shout from the balcony above. “Without anger Claudius,” Rufus shouted, in a booming voice. Drusus looked up momentarily and that was all the distraction Claudius needed. He snatched up the small offered blade and in one swift motion, severed the lashing on his wooden sword and the sheath fell away. Two long lead strips, concealed in the wood also fell away. “You are full of treachery Drusus. I take back what I said. Snake is to good a name for you. Only a coward would try to gain an edge in such a fashion.” “I take every advantage I can you fool, that’s why I always win.” “What about honor Drusus, what of honor? Do you possess any?” “There is no honor in defeat, idiot and when I stick this sword into you, you will die and how honorable you were will make no difference.” “To the death then you honor-less scum,” and Claudius launched an attack of his own. Weighting Claudius’ sword had had the opposite effect of what was intended. What Drusus didn’t know was that Claudius’ sword was made of an unusual metal and it was half the weight of a typical Roman sword. Now, with the weight of the wood and lead removed, the sword became as light as a feather in Claudius’ hand. His attack was a blur of speed and power and Drusus shrank backward under it. So furious was it, Drusus could mount no attack of his own, and his own shield was splintered and nearly useless. Once they locked swords and came face to face. Claudius could see the fear of defeat in Drusus’ eyes. He tried to rake Claudius’ face and eyes with the eagle’s beak pommel, but Claudius was expecting such a move and easily avoided it. Now Drusus was tiring and this time, it was not an act. Slowly, inexorably, his blocks and parries became slower and weaker. Claudius’ superior skill and stamina was now evident. Drusus could mount no attack, he could only defend. In the next instant it was over. Three lightening quick moves and Drusus was on his back, with Claudius’ sword tip and inch from his throat. Claudius looked down at him with contempt. “Kill me, go on kill me. You won fairly. I would have killed you.” “That is the difference between you and I Drusus. I have honor, you however, have none.” “Kill me, you bastard, kill me,” Drusus sobbed.

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“No, you sniveling coward, you shall live and know what humility is. News of this will travel to Rome eventually, and the son of the great Marcus Livius Drusus will be laughed at and ridiculed. Beaten by a common ship yard worker from Brundisium, how quaint.” The audience, hearing all this, began to chuckle. The chuckles soon turned into a deafening roar of laughter. Drusus covered his ears but couldn’t block out the noise of it. Claudius eased up now. He kicked Drusus’ weapon aside and turned to walk away. Quicker than a cat after a mouse, Drusus plucked a hidden weapon from his tunic and moved to plunge the blade into Claudius’ back. Without even a backward look, Claudius locked both hands around the hilt of his sword and drove it straight backward. It entered Drusus’ chest just below the left breastbone and he was quite dead even before he fell to the dirt. The strike had been delivered so quickly and deftly, the only evidence of it was a thin slit in Drusus tunic, just beginning to ooze blood. Rufus was right, the sharpness of your senses can sometimes save your life, Claudius said, to himself, as he walked away from Drusus’ dead body, without even a backward glance. The concern for the preservation of his own life now alleviated, Claudius looked again to the balcony above the arena. It was deserted. The chairs lay scattered and overturned but there was no one to be seen. I must see to my friends, he thought, I pray to the Gods, no harm has come to them. Claudius tried to make his way to the hull shed but the hundreds of well-wishers prevented his passage. He was the hero of the hour. “Make way,” Galbus shouted, “Make way,” as he forced his huge bulk through the crowd. Claudius could see the huge head and shoulders of his old friend, plowing through the crowd. At least Galbus is all right, he thought, now if only Aggie and Rufus are safe. Claudius could see the anguish on Galbus’ face as they met. “Galbus, what’s wrong?” “It’s Rufus Claudius. After he shouted to you he used the distraction to attempt to overpower our captors. We managed to subdue them but Rufus was seriously wounded in the attempt. He is being taken to Celesta’s house.” “Is Aggie all right Galbus?” “Yes, she is fine Claudius. She is being escorted to her home. A young boy showed up to claim her. He said his name was Septus. She seemed to know the lad and chose to go with him, so I permitted it.” “She is safe Galbus, I know the boy. It was he who furnished me with the knife to cut the sheath from my sword. He has helped me before; he will see her to safety. Celesta’s house was a good choice. We don’t know how Drusus’ henchmen will react to his death so we must assume the worst and believe they will seek us out for retribution or capture. Now old friend, listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I say. Find Aggie and bring her to Celesta’s house, as fast as you can. The ‘Sea Raven’ tavern is at the head of her street. Do you know the place?” “Yes Claudius, I know it well.” “Her house is down at the very end of the street, bring her to Celesta’s and I will meet you there. Be quick now Galbus, Rufus’ life hangs in the balance. Make doubly sure you are not followed, and tell no one of your destination.”

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Rufus wound was serious and he had lost a great deal of blood. He was lying very pale and almost motionless by the time Claudius arrived at Celesta’s house. He was still bleeding when Aggie arrived shortly thereafter. “We must stop the bleeding first. Quickly, heat some water, put it in a bowl and add this powder while stirring,” she said, handing Celesta a packet. “I also need freshly washed cloth, cut into strips, four of them. Put the cloth strips into the powder and water mixture and let them soak while the water cools, then bring the bowl to me.” Celesta took the packet and hurried off to do her bidding. “Will he live Aggie?” “I don’t know, his wound is deep. I will do some things to help him and the rest is up to him and the Gods. He is stronger than most men and that may save him.” While the cloths were soaking she took hot water brewed some foul smelling tea and spooned a few sips into Rufus’ mouth. She then created a poultice from the potion soaked cloths and applied that to the wound. “That should stop the bleeding. Now we wait.” Aggie continued to spoon-feed the tea to Rufus. At one point he became delirious, and Claudius had to restrain him to keep the bleeding from starting up again. He finally quieted down just before dawn. When the sun had been up a while, the bleeding stopped and his breathing and color were more toward normal. Claudius had stayed awake through the night, keeping the vigil with Aggie. “Claudius you must get some rest now. I will call you if there is any change.” “What about you? You should rest too, you’ve been up all night.” “I will sit by his bedside and perhaps doze off. I will be fine; go now and get some rest.” Celesta got him some blankets and a pillow and he lay on a nearby couch. He noticed the anxiety in Celesta’s eyes and he said, “You care for him a great deal, don’t you?” “Yes. We have become very close these last few months. I have stopped seeing other clients. I guess I am exclusively his now.” “Does he feel as strongly about you?” “Yes,” she said, smiling weakly, “I believe he does”. “It is a good match Celesta, you and Rufus. I am happy for both of you. We can talk more, but now I must try to get some rest. It has been a long and memorable day, to say the least.” The dreams were frightening. Someone had taken his priceless sword from his hand. He chased the thief but couldn’t catch him. Crowds of people kept getting in the way. Looking behind, he could see a faceless man, in a tribune’s uniform, at the head of a contingent of soldiers, reaching for him, getting closer and closer. Just as he was about to be overtaken and captured, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Claudius, Claudius, wake up, it’s Rufus, he has just regained consciousness and he is asking for you,” Aggie said. Claudius, instantly awake, leapt from the couch and went to Rufus’ bedside. Taking his friend’s hand he said, “Rufus my mentor, my friend, you are alive. Praise the Gods.” “I saw the ferryman Claudius but he refused my coin. I guess I still have a life to live. Where is Celesta, I want to see her?”

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Claudius made room for her at the bedside as she took Rufus’ hand. “Yes my love, we will have many more years together, I think,” she said, lightly kissing his lips. Claudius moved away from the bedside to allow Rufus to have some time alone with Celesta. Going to stand beside Aggie he said, “Will he fully recover Aggie?” “It will be a long recovery Claudius. I don’t believe any vital body parts were damaged. If he convalesces slowly and carefully, he will be whole once again.” Claudius, clearly relieved to receive good news, now focused his full attention on her. “Aggie, you know all that has recently happened. You know that I will have to leave here very soon or I will be captured and prosecuted.” She nodded hanging her head in the process, the tears brimming. “It is part of your destiny after all,” she said. “I keep forgetting that there are no surprises for you.” “Claudius, there is one more crisis you must face before you leave Brundisium, perhaps forever. Rufus is mending nicely and I have done all that I can. Celesta can take over now and do just as well as I can. When you have completed what it is you must do, come to my home so we can say a proper goodbye. Will you do this for me?” “Of course, but what are you speaking of, what must I do?” “You will know soon, and now I will say my goodbyes and go to my home.” Celesta now approached him and said to Claudius, “He wants to see you again. He knows you must leave soon and he has some words to say before you go.” Claudius approached the bed once more and felt much encouraged by the sight of Rufus. His pallor had gone and he seemed to be in less pain. “Come Claudius sit here by the bed. There is some information I need to give you. We both know you must flee, I recommend the legions. A ‘Ranker’ in the legions can be truly anonymous and serve far from Brundisium. Word has it that a new consulgeneral named Caesar is recruiting men for an army that’s going to Gaul. This is a perfect opportunity for you. Go to Ravenna, a city in the north, it is a seven to nine day journey from here. When you get there, seek out a soldier named Septimus Aquinus. He is an officer in the Tenth legion. He saved this Caesar’s life once, in a battle, at a place called Mytelene, some years ago. I know Septimus from serving with him, in Africa. He is well respected and if still in the legion, he may carry a great deal of influence. He can help to get you assigned to the Tenth. Mention my name to Septimus but use an assumed name, for yourself, when you enlist. The rest is up to you, once in the army, it will be very difficult for anyone to associate you with what has happened here.” As Rufus spoke, the pitch of his voice lowered and he began to speak more softly but with a great deal of gravity. “Claudius, there is one more thing you must know before you leave. It may be that, even if I live, we may never see each other again, so I must share something with you that I could never speak of before.” “What is it Rufus, we know much of each other’s lives. Tell me what it is?” Your mother and I were, have been, tried to be!” “What is it Rufus, what are you trying to say?” “Your mother and I loved each other very much.” “I know Rufus, you’ve told me this many times.”

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“We were very much in love Claudius, we were also lovers. We had a child, as a result of our love for each other.” “Who is this child Rufus? Do I have a sister or brother somewhere?” “The child is you Claudius, I am your real father, not Quintus Vero!” Claudius gasped and brought the back of his hand to his lips. “What, no, it cannot be!” Claudius said, leaping to his feet, backing away, slamming into the wall of the room, a look of absolute disbelief on his face. Rufus reached out to him, consumed with anguish and love for his son, while his son recoiled from the impact of this stunning news. Claudius ran from the house, out into the street, with all the speed he could muster. He sped through the narrow streets of the city, the passersby hurriedly moving out of his way lest they be bowled over. He ran on an on, with no consciousness of time. When he stopped running, he found himself standing at the pier where his little boat was moored. He was breathless and totally spent. His mind was in turmoil. How could it be? They had lied to him? Why had he never been told; all the little mysteries, pieces of information, comments innuendos, all now fell into place, like bits and pieces of tile coming together to form a mosaic, a complete picture, except, this was no work of art, this was a nightmare. Had those liars loved him, did they really care? His whole life had been a lie, his name, his heritage, his ancestry, all lies. Who am I, he thought? As he climbed into his boat. He untied the mooring lines and pushed out into the harbor. As he raised the sail, a brisk offshore breeze immediately filled it. The little boat leapt away from the pier. She raced across the harbor, past the breakwater and careened out into the open sea. Once out of the shelter of the harbor, the swells became enormous, driven by the wind that was rapidly becoming a gale. The land slipped away behind him, but he sailed on, into the teeth of the raging sea. If the sea claims me, so be it, he thought, as he sailed further and further out to sea. He fought the sea, and the wind with all his strength just to keep his craft afloat. The sail was close to tearing at the seams, the mast was visibly bent under the strain. The hull was pounded mercilessly by the breaking waves, yet on he sailed. It was a following wind and it carried him in its arms, he knew not where. He knew if he tried to tack or change direction, he would capsize, so he kept the wind at his back, his sturdy little boat, that he had re-built with his own hands, skipping over the waves like a living thing. He had no way to know how long he fought the storm. Time lost all meaning for him. Suddenly, as complete exhaustion was about to overtake him, the wind died down, the waves abated and the sea that moments before had been a raging violent adversary, calmed and turned to large gentle swells. The supreme physical effort, to stay alive, had somehow calmed him. He lay back against the transom, breathing heavily, soaked from the sea spray, spent both from his struggle against the elements and the struggle against himself. Twice, in the last two days, he had faced death and prevailed, now he hung, bent over the tiller, taking in great gulps of air, no longer wanting to die, suddenly wanting to live. His mind no longer raced. Clear thoughts and questions began to form. I am me, he thought. Whoever me is. I want to get to know him much better. Rufus has the

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answers to all my questions. Rufus is my real father! He can tell me about me and my mother. I must go to him now and forgive him because I love him and I want to know. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, as he approached Celesta’s house. The storm had left hundreds of small puddles and the wet dripping branches of the trees were its only testimony. The house was silent and Claudius could see a single lamp burning in the kitchen but no one seemed to be about. Being as quiet as he could, he entered Rufus’ room and sat down on the floor with his back against a far wall. He could see Rufus in the semi-darkness, his eyes were closed, and he was resting comfortably and he looked to be at peace. The bandage over his right breast was soaked with blood but it was a brownish color stain of old dried blood. Claudius looked for a telltale spot of bright red blood but saw none. Aggie’s poultice had stopped the bleeding. He watched Rufus for a long time. He noticed his long slender nose, his black hair, curly, sprinkled with gray. His normally clean-shaven face showed a shadow of a beard. His strong chin, powerful arms, chest and legs, peaceful now in repose. Rufus was a handsome man. It had never occurred to him before. He thought about how he looked when he happened to pass a bronze mirror, do I look like my father? Do people notice that we look alike, when we are together? Galbus called us the meow brothers, I wonder? Looking up Claudius could see Rufus watching him. “You have returned son that is a good thing. I’m truly sorry I have hurt you. Perhaps I should have told you sooner. I could never find the words or the courage. I handled this whole situation rather badly. You must have a thousand questions?” “I do Fa..Fa...Father,” Claudius said, stumbling over the word. “Go ahead son. I am feeling somewhat better now. I can talk for a little while, and I hope to answer some of those questions for you.” “What was she like Rufus, I mean father. I knew her for such a short time. I would like to know her better, the way you did. It must have been very hard to love each other but not be allowed to be together?” “It was hard Claudius, not to be able to caress the one you love is torture beyond words. She was a living-breathing poem Claudius, a flower in human form. Always delicate, always beautiful, able to love, praise and reproach with just a look. Except for that one time, we were lovers, not with our bodies, the senator would have killed us if that had happened. We were lovers with words and how we spoke them to one another. You remember that willow tree, at the south entrance to her flower garden, at the villa? She had a stone bench placed there and we would sit under that tree and talk for hours and hours. Your father, I mean the senator, was away in Rome most of the time, we had ample opportunity to talk. We knew more about each other than any other living person. We talked of fears, weaknesses, passions, all of it, in complete honesty. It was the perfect love affair Claudius. We only had those few moments of a lifetime together. We didn’t waste them on petty squabbles and judgments.” “Why didn’t you tell me Rufus it was my right to know about you, wasn’t it?” “The senator always had us spied upon. He changed spies often and even could have had several at once. The servants were all so loyal to him; it was impossible to pick which one spied so we just decided to love, with this limitation in our relationship. After the senator discovered our indiscretion, he killed the only servant who had knowledge of it. He then sold all the other servants and acquired new ones. By doing this he thought to

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eliminate any chance of a scandalous rumor leaking out. He then stated that if a rumor did surface, he would know that it was either Ameilia, or I, and he would have all three of us killed. It was a threat I lived with until your mother died and even beyond. He resented you when you were first born and in your early years. As the years passed, and you grew, he changed. He slowly pushed aside his resentment and came to love you for yourself. He realized you could become his heir, and were a fine young man worthy to carry on the Vero name, regardless of your parentage. I think you saw that just before Sulla’s men came.” “I did notice a change in him Rufus. It was as you said. I truly felt his love, for the first time on that fateful day. I can also see justification in the way he treated me, and how he felt about me. I can understand how it would be very difficult for him to love another man’s child as if that child were his own.” “The senator was a proud strict man Claudius but more importantly he was a good man. He could have killed me, within the law, but he didn’t. He allowed your mother, and I, to be together and join our spirits, and it was enough for us. Remember, he gave you his ring and even freed all his slaves when he knew he was going to be imprisoned or killed. Here Claudius, I want you to have this. It was given to me by my father,” taking an object, on a chain, from around his neck and handing it to Claudius. “Rufus, this looks like the fang of an animal edged with silver,” Claudius said, as he examined the object Rufus had given him. “You are right Claudius that is exactly what it is. It was given to me for being brave now I give it to you for being brave and returning here today so we could have this talk. It is the fang of a wolf, a very large wolf that was trying to kill me. I prevailed, in the struggle and my father felt it was an accomplishment that deserved a reward. I was ten years old when that happened.” As Claudius placed the silver chain around his neck, he wondered at a ten year old who could vanquish a wolf. My father, he thought and he was proud. They talked far into the night. Claudius learned many things about his newfound father, and it would resurface time and time again, the reverence Rufus displayed for his Ameilia, who would remain, even in death, the love of his life. “What of Celesta Rufus, can she abide the undying love you carry?” “I love her too Claudius. She knows of Ameilia and is not jealous. She has me now and we understand each other and that is enough for us. Now son, daylight is peaking in the window, my wound throbs and I am very tired. I must rest now and you must prepare for your journey but please come back soon and we can talk more.” Claudius did return, several times over the next few days, each visit lasting for a few hours at a time. Between visits to Rufus, he spent time at the yard seeing all his old friends and bidding his fond goodbyes. He kept a wary eye for Drusus’ crew, but he saw no evidence of their pursuit. He stayed out of sight anyway, just to be extra careful. He was the hero of the hour for his defeat of Drusus. Only Galbus knew of his true heritage; to his fellow workers at the yard, he was Claudius, the shipwright’s apprentice, who had fought an epic, one-sided battle and killed his opponent to save his own life. To a man, they understood his decision to flee. All agreed, that until the matter

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was investigated and eventually settled, that at this point, flight was the best course of action. Many also assured him that they as witnesses would testify in his behalf. He gave his boat to Galbus. “She is a fine little lady Galbus, her name is ‘Aggie’, by the way. Treat her with care and she will carry you over the waves, in fine style, as if you weighed no more than a feather.” “I will Claudius. I will treat ‘Aggie’ as if she were my own child. Alletes and I will think of you whenever we take her out sailing. Before you depart, I have some news, that you might enjoy hearing. As a result of our wagers, Rufus and I are wealthy men. The odds against you were such that, any wager on you would yield a handsome return. I and Rufus will never want for money.” “I’m glad for you Galbus and for Rufus as well. As for me, I won’t need money where I’m going. The army will pay my way.” “Oh, one more thing Claudius. It seems our friend Crixus laid a large wager in favor of your defeat. The fool bet money he didn’t have, now the odds men are looking for him to collect. He has probably fled and if he hasn’t, he will turn up in an alley, with his throat slit. These men will not tolerate a bad debt.” The huge man now became a tearful giant, wrapping his great arms around Claudius and hugging him until he could barely breathe. “I will miss you Claudius. You have become the son I never had. If you ever need me, or I can help you in any way, send me a message, here at the yard, they will always know where to find me. Farewell my adopted son and stay safe. You will always have a place and a family here in Brundisium.” He now faced that which had been looming in the background, of his mind, for the past few tumultuous days. He must say goodbye to Aggie. His steps slowed as he left the shipyard and headed toward her home. He knew it would be one of the most difficult things he would ever have to do. She greeted him at the door, holding it wide, beckoning him inside, and beaming with abroad smile. “I have prepared a meal for us,” she said. “I felt you may be hungry and hadn’t had much chance to take a decent meal. Come, we eat and talk.” She was right; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He ate ravenously causing her to remark, “Now you are eating like the Claudius I know.” After they had eaten, and she had cleared the dishes, she set a steaming cup of tea before Claudius and joined him at the table, with a cup of her own. “Your talk with Rufus, it was enlightening for you, was it not?” He looked at her, she looked back, a sheepish grin on her face and they both burst into laughter. “Aggie, it was as if a great weight was lifted from my chest. We talked for a very long time and we only stopped because Rufus became too weak to go on. I truly feel I know him and my mother to their very depths. It is the way a son should know his mother and father.” “Yes, it is good Claudius, I am happy for you. It was a cleansing and there was truly a crisis within you. Now it has passed and the sun shines once again.” “It truly does Aggie.” “Now to us and our goodbyes. I have been dreading it. I have thought of nothing else since you struck down that evil man. I couldn’t see that coming Claudius, I am truly sorry. It was always difficult to foresee events, when I care deeply for the one experiencing those events. I couldn’t even see the event that killed my own father.

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If I could have seen, I would have warned you. That aside, you learned an important truth and that might not have happened had that particular string of events not occurred. Good can come from bad, it depends on your point of view.” “Do you ever not want to see Aggie?” “Sometimes, like now, it is very difficult Claudius. I have often said, I have been cursed, but my father always said, ‘My gift was a blessing from the Gods.’ I believe he was right even if I don’t understand it all of the time. Often the true understanding, of events, comes later. I believe an enlightening is the term to describe it.” Claudius now moved his stool to sit next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. He placed a fingertip under her chin and lifted until they had locked eyes. He noticed that she had started to cry again. “I see nothing but love for me in your eyes and I know you see my love for you in mine. I will remember you always and miss you terribly. You have been a mother to me as precious as my own.” Taking her hand and placing it on his chest he said, “You have a piece of my heart old woman; I give it to you gladly. The death of my mother left a great hole there and you have filled it with your love and kindness. We will always be as one, you and I.” The day came for his departure. Many tears were shed that day, as he said goodbye and embraced each of those who had become his family. Even Rufus, with the help of Celesta and a crutch, managed to hobble to the door and wave goodbye as Claudius headed toward the northern hills. He left the way he had come, threading his way through the streets, passing by the shacks and hovels of the city, choosing a dusty path up to into the hills. Even Septus came to say goodbye and Claudius got a chance to thank him and place some coins in his hand. Just like old times. As he topped the hills overlooking the city he paused a moment he looked back. What a beautiful sight, he thought. The bustling city by the shimmering sea, will always have a special place in my heart. Turning with moist eyes, he headed north, to Ravenna and his destiny.

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Chapter VII The Frontier His plan to reach Ravenna was a simple one. Stay off the main roads, skirt any city, and avoid any encounters with people. Main roads would be well traveled and soldiers would undoubtedly patrol them. There may even be a trap, set for him, on these very roads; he would only use them as a guide. Keeping the rising sun and the glittering Ocean on his right, he set out toward Aretum, the first landmark to the north. He caught sight of the city around midday of day two of his journey. Even from the shelter of the trees, it was a breathtaking sight. Aretum was much like Brundisium, a beautiful jewel of a city, less the shipyards. It’s panoramic view of the harbor and active shipping traffic, in the noonday sun, caused him to, pause and reflect. He felt a pang of loneliness and homesickness. He missed Rufus, his father, a term, which still stuck in his throat, but only a little now. He knew that one day he would say it, and think it, naturally, as if it had never been any other way. He also felt the absence of Galbus, his irascible good humor and ready laugh. He missed Celesta, what she had meant to him, but more importantly what she now meant to Rufus, and most of all he missed Aggie. He always felt her presence, as tangible as if she were there, walking beside him. The route by Aretum was easily passed, then he made his way for Ignatia. The trail became much more arduous. Impenetrable forests, unassailable mountains impeded his progress and huge impenetrable swamps caused him to have to make wide detours. He could only detour inland, to the west, so often, the detour added many extra miles of travel. The constant need for the utmost discretion and caution, gave him no other choice. As he moved steadily northward the days began getting much cooler. He began to encounter patches of snow, gathered in the spots where rocks cast their shadows or in the lees of fallen trees, where the sun couldn’t reach, giving warning, of the inevitable winter to come. At the onset of the journey he could see his breath vapor only at night or early in the morning. Now he could see his breath, throughout the day. He was well prepared for the weather with a legionnaire’s cloak, Rufus had given him. He also had a hooded woolen tunic, woolen leggings and a handsome pair of calfskin boots given to him by Faberius. The limited amount of food he could initially carry soon ran out and he began living off the land. Rufus had taught him to use a sling and live off the land on their initial trek from the Vero villa near Rome to the sanctuary in Brundisium. These acquired skills were now revived and sharpened and came in handy. He was able to bag small game, catch an occasional fish and gather natural edibles to sustain him. His daily routine became, travel, hunt, pitch camp, practice sword drills and sleep. The next day he would repeat the same thing all over again. Some days hunting was bad and he could feel himself gradually losing excess body weight. His body, already fatless, lean and hard. He missed the wonderful meals prepared by Alletes but he also knew this forced conditioning would be appropriate preparation, and serve him well, when he eventually joined the legions. He tried to make his journey as rapidly as he could. He thought of what Rufus had said to him, “The recruiting function will probably take place until a hard freeze sets in Claudius. After that, the real training would begin in earnest and would continue, even

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through the coldest weather. The legions would then deploy, with a long march to Gaul to be there in time for a late spring campaign.” “Does no general try to fight in winter,” Claudius asked? “Only if under attack,” replied Rufus. “Otherwise the winter months are spent repairing equipment, building permanent fortified camps, training and arranging for supplies to be brought in, to prepare for campaigning again in the spring. Even war has a season Claudius.” “Don’t the soldiers become bored waiting to fight Rufus?” Claudius wanted to know. This caused Rufus to laugh out loud. “There is no boredom in the legions Claudius; there is always plenty of work to be done. You will learn many things as a legionnaire, the list is endless and the related tasks are never ending. You will also learn to treat wounds, your own and your fellow soldier’s as well.” Rufus had also reminded him, “Keep up with your sword work and conditioning. The legion training will be very rigorous. The better your body’s condition, the easier it will go for you.” In view of that advice, Claudius would often set off at a run, whenever he had a straight away distance to cover. He also kept current with his sword drills, at night, around the campfire, marveling at the weight and balance of the beautiful weapon Aggie had given him. He wondered at the fact that the metal for it had fallen from the sky. Surely the Gods have their own purpose for this weapon and perhaps a special purpose for me. Having quiet lonely nights, Claudius had a lot of time for reflection. It had been seven years since he and Rufus had fled the horrors at the Vero. He was now twenty-five years old. The pleasant memories with Rufus, Aggie and all his friends from Brundisium seemed to crumble, pushed aside by the darker ones. The specter of death hovered over his life. His mother, his adopted father and now Drusus, a life he had to take, of necessity. He was deeply saddened by the fact. A young life shortened by a need for revenge and some misplaced sense of superiority. A pointless, senseless waste. Now I am on the run toward an unknown destiny, again. What plans do the Gods have for me? Is there even any plan at all? These were his muddled thoughts as he drifted off to sleep, warmed by the crackling fire. When he awoke the next morning, it was to a world of white. A thick blanket of snow had fallen overnight, covering him and his campsite. The cold was bitter but he could taste and smell the freshness of the air and he was instantly awake. He stirred the coals and rekindled the fire then boiled some melted snow for a cup of tea. There were a few pieces of smoked rabbit left in his larder. He warmed these over the fire and thought, as he ate, how nice it would be to have some hot porridge or stew and some bread and sit at a table with chairs with a cup of warm mulled wine. Maybe I can risk staying at an inn for one night just to eat a hot meal. Well, no matter now, I must be on my way or I will never make Ravenna in time to enlist. He heaped some snow on the fire and set out, as usual, heading north. The snow started to fall again but it soon changed to a driving rain, as a warmer breeze off the ocean warmed the temperature a bit. The snow made travel difficult, but wet snow was an entirely different matter. His progress slowed and he started to become waterlogged. I must find suitable shelter, he thought. He didn’t like taking a risk on

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inclement weather. He knew if his cloak and boots became saturated, and the temperature dropped again, his garments and boots would freeze. If this occurred, he risked frostbite. He began to head due east. Later in the morning, as he had hoped, he encountered a main road. Not knowing which direction to take, he decided to trust his instincts and continue to go north, hoping he was still heading toward a viable shelter. His instincts proved to be correct when he encountered a horse drawn wagon heading toward him on the road. Then wagon pulled up as Claudius approached, with the driver staring curiously at the hooded traveler before him. “What would a young lad like you be doing out traveling on a day like this?” the driver asked. “I’m heading north to Ravenna sir. My uncle is gravely ill and he has no one to care for him, except me. I hope I’m not too late.” “Ah, you’re a good lad then. My nephews they don’t care whether I live or die, they might even piss on my grave I think,” the driver said, belching out a guttural raspy laugh that began somewhere in the back of his throat. “Can you tell me what place you came from and how far I must travel to get there?” “Ah yes, that would be Ariminum and you’re only five miles distant from it. A good strong young man like you will be there in no time. Are you looking for a place to stay the night?” “Yes, I’m soaked to the skin and I could use some hot food and a warm bed.” “When you get to Ariminum, find a place called the ‘Red Dog Inn’. Tell Artimus, the innkeeper, that Scaveola sent you. He will treat you like a long lost cousin.” “I will do as you recommend my friend, and, many thanks for your help.” “Don’t mention it my boy. I hope your uncle is all right. He is blessed to have a nephew who cares as much as you.” “Thanks again Scaveola and I wish you a safe trip,” Claudius said, waving to the driver as he strode off, headed for Ariminum. Claudius hated lying to the old man, after he had been so helpful, but he knew he must be careful whom he trusted. I hope some day to be rid of lies, he thought. It is easy to lie but the lie seems to stick in my throat when I tell it. When he arrived in the city he had no trouble finding the “Red Dog Inn”. The two townsmen he asked for directions both knew it well and assured him the food was the best to be had. One man made a point to tell him to book a room early, if he intended to stay the night. “The ‘Dog’ will fill up readily on a poor day such as this,” the man had said. Claudius smelled the inn before he actually saw it. The delicious scents wafting on the icy breeze, teased his senses, making his mouth water and making him hungrier. He quickened his pace. When he reached the inn, it was late afternoon, and the place was already filled with people. The entryway was two huge wooden doors each held by enormous bronze hinges, the head and shoulders of a larger than life red dog painted on each on each door. He stepped inside, closed the doors against the icy wind and moved off to one side to survey the place.

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It was warm, inviting and very much a social atmosphere. There was a lot of raucous behavior and laughter going on. The crust of ice that had formed on his cloak began to melt and he dripped water on the stone floor, where he waited. It was a two story building enclosed by timbers, brick and mortar. The walls and ceiling between the timbers were whitewashed, giving the room a clean fresh look. There was a large see-through fireplace at one end of the hall that faced and warmed the room and the opposite side supplied a hearth for the kitchen. There was a huge fire bedded in the fire pit and Claudius could see through to the kitchen where the cooks were scurrying around, making haste to fill the needs of the hungry and thirsty customers. The center of the room was all tables, as many as would fit in the space, allowing just enough room for benches and space for the waitresses to pass. The central area was surrounded by an upper level, which was lined with doors. Claudius assumed these were the rooms rented out to overnight guests. Great wooden posts supported the upper level and equally large beams carried the weight of the ceiling. The patrons all seemed of good cheer and they emptied their cups quickly. The waitresses were hard pressed to keep up to the demand to refill them. Claudius felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see one of the waitresses standing next to him. “Well deary, you look a little wet and cold. I suspect you may be looking for a bed for the night, and if you are, and I was you, I would reserve that bed right now. Otherwise, you will be sleeping out back in the stables, with the horses.” “Where does one reserve a room,” he asked the girl? “Just to the right of the kitchen door,” she said, with a smile and a wink. Claudius could see an opening with a half-door and an attached shelf and he made his way toward it. “I’d like a room for the night,” he said, to the attendant standing there, approaching the door. The innkeeper laughed, a hearty friendly laugh. “Well, if you wanted an entire room you’d have to pay for the ten beds that are in it, now wouldn’t you. If you decide you want only one bed, it will be two sesterces for the night. I only have four left. Do you want one?” “Yes, yes I do,” Claudius, replied, handing the innkeeper the money. “Very well then; here’s your tag. The top number is your room; the bottom number is your bed. Don’t lose the tag. No one gets a bed without a tag. The price of the room includes a meal and one cup of wine. Just show the tag to your waitress. If you want more than one cup you will have to pay extra for it.” “Many thanks,” Claudius said, as he took the tag. “By the way are you Artimus?” “Why yes I am. How did you know my name?” “A friend of mine named Scaveola said to mention his name and you would treat me like a long lost cousin.” Artimus laughed, “As a matter of fact we are cousins, he and I. Here, give me back that tag and take this one. This room is special and has only two beds in it and you can draw a curtain for privacy. The beds are larger than usual, room for two if you know what I mean,” he said with a wink. “I personally recommend Delphia, you can make your own arrangements with her, she be the one with the long braids.” “Thanks again,” Claudius said, as he took the new tag and made his way back to the dining area.

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He spotted an empty place at a table and made his way to it. He had hardly sat down when a waitress appeared with a tray of full cups. He showed her his room tag and she placed a cup of wine in front of him saying she would be right back with his food. In no time at all Claudius had a large steaming bowl in front of him with half a loaf of bread on top of it. He dipped the bread into the steaming mixture and tasted it. It was delicious. It was some sort of meat stew, lamb he guessed, mixed in thick rich gravy with a variety of vegetables thrown in. This is just what I needed, he thought, stick to my ribs food. He ate with relish, savoring the first real hot meal he had had since taking the trail nine days before today. Cross-country was fine for secret traveling but a good home cooked meal was sorely missed. He also looked forward to a warm bed, indoors, where he could actually dry-out, without the winter chill. As he spooned the last of the stew into his mouth, two men sat at the table directly behind him. They staggered slightly settling into their seats. They’ve already had a good deal of wine, Claudius thought, and he paid them no more attention. Claudius ordered a second cup of wine, deciding that the wine at the ‘Red Dog Inn’ wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The two men behind him were engaged in a very deep conversation. They weren’t speaking in low tones so Claudius could clearly hear what they were saying. “You keep his attention and I will come up behind him and club him on the back of the head,” the larger of the two men said. “What if he isn’t disabled and he comes at me?” “Why then, you idiot, you bury your dagger into his chest. That should slow him down a bit, don’t you think? When he is subdued, his valuables and those wonderful horses, are ours for the taking. We can drag him to the corner of the stable and cover him with some hay. By the time his body is discovered, we will be miles away and no one will be the wiser.” “I don’t know Tritus, the plan sounds too simple. You really think it will work?” “The simpler, the better; of course it will work you fool, I have done such before. It’s the element of surprise it gets em every time! Now, finish your food, and no more wine. We want our wits sharp when the time comes. He will come here for food and drink and when he does we’ll take our posts in the stable and wait, when he comes to check on his horses, we’ll take him down.” “How do you know he will check on the horses?” “He is a horseman you idiot. All such men make sure their animals are secure for the night, don’t worry, he will come.” Claudius couldn’t believe his ears. The two were plotting to kill and rob this unsuspecting traveler, Claudius thought. Just then, a lone traveler entered the tavern, stepped inside the door and shook the wet snow from his garments. Claudius could see him stop and look around, much as he himself had done a bit earlier. The man was about his age and build wearing a hooded cloak, riding boots and leather riding britches. A small spur, was attached to each boot heel. As he passed his table, Claudius caught the scent of horses and thought; this has to be the man those two are planning to rob. Almost in confirmation of his thoughts, the traveler sat down, at a near-by table and the two plotters rose and headed for the door. I must warn him Claudius thought, he is in extreme danger.

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By this time the traveler had found a seat and was being served by an attentive waitress. Claudius left his table and moved into a vacant seat directly opposite the horseman. The moment Claudius sat down, the man looked up and pushed back the hood of his cloak. Each man was stunned into silence. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before the traveler broke the silence. “Why it’s like looking into a plate of polished bronze. If I wasn’t so sure I was an only child, I would think you are my long lost twin brother and we were separated at birth,” he said, with a wide beaming smile and a twinkle in his eye. As Claudius recovered his wits, he struggled to speak. “I too thought I was looking at my reflection. Claudius Varinus,” he said, offering his hand. “Marcus Lucius Carbus, at your service,” the traveler said, taking Claudius’ hand. “I come from Mitulum, three days journey, to the Southwest. I’m on my way to Ravenna to enlist in Caesar’s army. What about you my long lost brother, what brings you to the ‘Red Dog’ of Ariminum?” “This is more than a coincidence, I too am on my way to Ravenna, for exactly the same reason,” Claudius said. Looking at each other and internally reflecting on this incredible set of circumstances, of their meeting, both men burst out laughing and continued laughing until the tears ran. After the laughter subsided, Claudius was the first to speak. “It appears we have much to discuss, but first, there is another matter of greater import that you must know about. It appears that you are the target of a plot that I overheard hatching just a short time ago.” Marcus looked incredulously at him as Claudius related the story he had overheard. Marcus verified that he did indeed have two horses and that he had just left them with the groom in the stable. Then the question was posed. “It is an incredible story and I do believe you Claudius but what do I do now? I know about horses but I’m not much of a talent at foiling plots. What if they are armed? Perhaps I should seek out a magistrate or some soldiers?” “They will most certainly be armed Marcus, and I don’t see any way we could prove these men are up to no-good. You could show up at the stable with the authorities. They would just deny any malice and it would only be my word against theirs. There is another alternative, if you are willing?” “What is it Claudius, tell me?” “Men like these prey upon those that they think they can dominate. In my eyes, they are the most detestable of people. I believe they must be taught a very stern lesson. Here is what I propose, if you are with me. We could take them by surprise and overpower them, and teach them that it’s not nice to go around plotting and stealing from people. There is great personal risk involved but we have the element of a reverse surprise in our favor.” “Do you have some kind of plan Claudius?” “Yes, I might have one. Describe the inside of the stable to me.” Marcus did exactly that, in great detail. “Those rear double doors you mentioned, which way do they open and where do they lead?” Thinking for a moment Marcus replied, “I am almost certain they open outward and the land underneath them falls away. That’s where the stable-hands throw all the

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manure when they muck out the stables. I guess you could say there’s a mountain of shit back there.” This brought a ready laugh from both men. “It’s perfect. Here is the plan I propose. You enter the stable to check on your horses, as they expect you to do. When they move on you I will confront them. When they are distracted, you retreat to a spot where you can open those rear doors. I will engage them and try to make them realize the error of their ways. On my signal, open the door then leave the rest up to me.” “Are you skilled with weapons Claudius, these men could be more than you can deal with?” “Yes, I am skilled with the sword. I have a great deal of confidence in my ability.” Claudius said this so matter-of-factly that Marcus paused for a moment and looked at him with wonder. Who is this fearless man who looks like my twin brother, Marcus thought. “Claudius, after reflecting on my options and the fact that you may have saved my life, I will ride this horse a little further and assist you in your plan. After all, surprise will be on our side, won’t it? Let’s go find out if the Gods are also on our side.” What sun there was that snowy gloomy day had long since vanished and darkness had firmly settled-in. The stable yard was well lighted by lanterns and Claudius could see a light coming from inside the stable itself. He made his way around the building to a side door and Marcus watched him disappear inside the building. Marcus headed for the main entrance to the stable. He stopped there and chose two horse blankets from a pile by the door, and made his way to the stall where his horses were tethered. His horses nickered when they caught his familiar scent. He couldn’t see anyone but the hair on the back of his neck was standing up straight and every nerve in his body was alive and tingling. Prepared as he was, he was still startled when a man appeared out of the darkness on the opposite side of his horse’s stall and spoke to him. “I have been admiring these horses young sir. These animals are magnificent. Would consider selling them?” Just as Marcus was about to answer the question there was the sound of a scuffle and the unmistakable clang of metal on metal. Without warning, he threw the blankets he was holding, across his horse’s back, into the face of the man who had spoken. In the time it took his assailant to free himself of the blankets, Marcus had retreated and was concealed near the back doors of the stable. The two assailants now joined realizing their prey had vanished and they only had one new opponent to face. Their adversary looked like their prey’s twin brother and he had a sword in his hand. Tritus looked around to see if anyone else was about. When he realized they faced only one man, a sly grin spread over his face. The two men looked at each other, their thoughts were obvious; eliminate this unplanned threat then continue with their original plan. “I overheard your treacherous conversation in the tavern. Your simple plan, it was ill conceived. Now drop your weapons and it will go easier on you.” “We have no intention of dropping our weapons, you young fool. We will split you from crotch to breastbone, eavesdropper.” “You must be Tritus, the mastermind behind this debacle?” “I don’t know how you know my name, but it doesn’t matter; because you will never live to repeat it to anyone.”

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The two men circled Claudius right and left. They approached him at the extremes of his peripheral vision. Claudius suspected this maneuver and launched an instant attack at Tritus. So quick and devastating was the assault, it caught both assailants by complete surprise. With a powerful downward stroke Claudius neutralized the sword of his opponent and drove his elbow, into the bigger man’s chest and backhanded a blow to the bridge of the nose with the hilt of his sword. He grabbed Tritus’ sword arm and with one quick accurate stroke he severed the thumb of Tritus. The thumb fell to the floor along with the sword it had held a moment before. Tritus fell to his knees clutching his injured hand and howled in pain. Claudius now turned to face the other conspirator. The man’s face was white with fear. He stood agape at what he had just witnessed. He immediately dropped his dagger and raised his hands, palms out, and plead with Claudius. “Please, don’t kill me, I beg of you. It was all Tritus’ idea. I never meant to hurt anyone. I was only going to knock him on his head, that’s all.” “You lying pile of dung. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to send you and your friend on a little journey. Marcus, you can open the door now.” As he said this, Claudius began herding Tritus and the pleader toward the open doors. Tritus stumbled along holding his injured hand and offered no resistance. Inching ever closer to the double doors, Claudius said, “I should kill you both and make the world a better place; but instead, I think I shall deposit you where you both belong.” He then yelled and made a very threatening rush at the two men. In an effort to avoid his rage both men leapt out the door and disappeared into the blackness. Marcus grabbed a hanging lantern and along with Claudius, held it high and peered out into the blackness below. The recent snow and sleety rain had turned the hill into a quagmire of horse droppings and the would-be robbers were struggling in it, up to their waists. “Now you two have found a home. Two pieces of shit returned to a pile of shit,” Claudius said. Claudius and Marcus laughed heartily at this remark. “Now I will report this incident to Artimus, the Innkeeper. I will tell him to be on the lookout for two men, one thumb-less and both smelling like the back end of a horse.” This again elicited a laugh from both men. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste any time in leaving this place and I wouldn’t come back here, ever.” “I agree with my friend here. Innkeepers don’t like thieves who threaten their clients,” Marcus said. With that, the two struggled out of the pile and ran off into the night, with the laughter of Claudius and Marcus echoing in their ears. Claudius retrieved the fallen weapons while Marcus bedded his horses down for the night. The weapons were deposited with Artimus along with a brief account of what had happened in the stable. “I think I know who you mean. I spotted those two when they came in,” said Artimus. “They looked like they were up to no good. We will keep an eye on the stable should they be foolish enough to return.” “I don’t think they will return,” said Claudius. “A thief who can’t properly hold a weapon is not much of a thief. The other one, he is only a follower and not much of a threat. Well Artimus, my new brother Marcus, and I, must make an early start. We would like to retire now. Can we share my room for the night?” “Why of course and it will be compliments of the house,” he said, handing Claudius back his two sestersius. “Breakfast will also be on the house, for you and your

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brother here; and thank you again for routing those two ruffians,” Artimus said, as the two men headed for their lodgings. Rather than sleep, they talked far into the night. In fact, they never got to sleep at all. Each was fascinated with the other’s story and asked questions that took a measure of time to answer. They were still talking when dawn broke. Claudius held nothing back; even letting Marcus knows his real name and the death of Drusus being his reason for enlisting in the legions. He felt a level of trust, with his newfound friend. It was a welcome sense of relief that he felt he could completely trust this man. He also felt a reflection of that trust from Marcus. Marcus spoke lovingly of his deceased wife, Portia. He also shared openly of his life’s experiences saying his reason for enlisting mirrored Claudius’; he had killed, out of necessity, and was on the run. “We really must take to the road Marcus. Time is slipping away and the recruitment period may end without us being there. We can just as easily continue our talks on our way to Ravenna.” “Claudius, I just had a thought. You can ride my other horse. I am going to try to sell them when we get to Ravenna. I need some cash for my purse. I want to be a legionnaire but I don’t want to be a poor one.” “I’m not much of a rider Marcus. I have only ridden a horse a few times. When I was a boy, we had horses at our villa but my father was too busy being a senator so he never taught me. I would just slow you down.” “Nonsense, I will have you an expert horseman by midday tomorrow. The way you handled your sword and yourself, tells me you are no ordinary man. You will have little trouble in learning to ride. Come, let’s get a meal under our belt, bid goodbye to Artimus and be on our way.” After their meal was taken and their goodbyes made, they made their way to the stables. The horses vocalized their approval when Marcus’ scent came to their noses. “Claudius come, I want you to meet Thunder. He is a stallion. Thunder this is Claudius; he will be your rider today. Claudius come closer, put your arm around his neck, gently pull his head down and speak softly into his ear and introduce yourself to him.” Claudius felt a little foolish, but did as Marcus had asked. The horse shied slightly but as soon as Claudius spoke, the horse nickered, nuzzled his hand and actually seemed to return the gesture of affection. “Now, come meet Aphrodite, she is a mare. Put you arm around her neck and do the same thing you did with Thunder.” The mare returned the gesture of affection just as Thunder had. “You and I are the only humans who have ever spoken to them this way. They are twin brother and sister from their mother, Athena.” “You mean they were born at the same time, from the same mother?” Claudius asked, incredulously. “I didn’t realize horses could produce twins.” “It is extremely rare, but yes it is possible, the evidence stands there before you. I raised them from foals and they know my voice and now they know yours. They now believe you are a horse and you are their brother.” Claudius laughed heartily at this statement until he looked at Marcus. He wasn’t laughing, and he appeared to be quite serious. “You are not joking about this, are you Marcus?” “No, it is as I said. You are a brother to Thunder and Aphrodite and a son to Athena, their mother. Claudius, there is one more thing before we set out on our journey.

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I want to properly thank you for saving my life. Were it not for you, those ruffians could have killed me as easily as not. As a gesture of my gratitude, I make you a gift of Aphrodite. She is now your horse to do with as you will.” “Marcus, are you sure about this?” “Yes Claudius, I am. It is a small price to pay for one’s life, don’t you think?” “What a magnificent gift. I will treat her with great affection, as a brother would treat his sister. This I vow to you my new found friend.” Under Marcus’ guidance, Claudius soon became an excellent horseman. He learned to communicate with the horse using only the pressure from his knees or a gentle nudge with his heels and he often spoke to Aphrodite, softly, directly into her ear. He learned what it was like to be on the back of a powerful animal, galloping over a snowcovered meadow, free as the wind wildly whipping his cloak. He and Marcus often competed with a little race now and then. He never won until he realized Aphrodite had greater stamina than Thunder. At that point he would prolong the race until he won, once in a while. Much of the time the two men walked the horses and just talked. They talked of the past, the present and even the future. Each man bared his soul to the other and they became very close as only brothers can, their trust in each other growing, with each passing day. In return for teaching him to ride, Claudius gave Marcus some basic instruction in the use of the sword. After they had eaten and the horses were settled in for the night, Claudius would take out his sword and demonstrate the basic drills and how to execute them. “I used to practice for many hours a day for months and months. I also did countless hours of exercise swimming and running to keep my body in peak physical condition. I keep at it to condition myself for the legion training.” Marcus also admired Claudius’ sword. “It is a thing of beauty Claudius. It is as light as a feather. The words inscribed on the blade, what do they mean?” “It is in some ancient tongue that I have no knowledge of but it means, ‘Death, Life, Peace’. My second mother Aggie, the old woman I spoke of, told me that one day the words will have meaning for me.” The weather held, sunny, a bit chilly with very little wind. They crossed the Sestis River and a traveler coming in the opposite direction told them they were now only one day’s journey from Ravenna. That night, around the campfire, there was no levity in the conversation. Each man seemed preoccupied within his own thoughts. Each man knowing that once he enlisted, the army would determine his fate. “Perhaps we’ll train together Claudius. We are both raw recruits. It would seem logical that we stay together.” “There’s no way to tell Marcus. We will just have to wait and see. Marcus, there is one thing that has been bothering me.” “What is it Claudius? Did I say something to offend you?” “No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just worry that you may lose your temper if you see someone abusing a horse.” “Yes, I told you the story. I did kill a man for abusing a horse.” “I know you love these animals Marcus. I too, have grown to love Thunder and Aphrodite; but I have fear for you. The legions are not very forgiving of someone who

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loses their temper. If you do, it will go hard on you. Will you make me a solemn oath that you will control your temper? I would feel much better about it if you do.” Marcus rose and walked over to where Claudius was sitting. He reached down, grasped him by the hand and pulled Claudius to a standing position, took him by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “I love you as a brother Claudius. I vow to do the best I can, to not lose control of my emotions.” Claudius looked back with equal emotion and said, “May the Gods keep us safe my friend and allow us to stay close.” Toward mid-morning the next day they sighted the city of Ravenna. It was a sprawling coastal city, equally as large as Ariminum, with a large man-made harbor, created with far reaching jetties constructed to lessen the fury of the sea. The harbor appeared very deep, fully able to accommodate the largest of ships. Rufus had told Claudius why Ravenna was an active recruiting center for the legions. There was a permanent army camp located in the center of Ravenna, which the two men could plainly see from their vantage point. “It is a crossroad city Marcus. Men come, not only from Italy but also from Italian Gaul and the Histrian Peninsula. There are large cities nearby and the availability of manpower is well known.” The two men sat silently sat their horses, and gazed at the spectacle before them. With resignation, Claudius said, “I guess we should head to the fort and find out the procedure for enlisting. Come Marcus, our fate awaits us.” Claudius was nervous and he could tell Marcus was in a similar frame of mind, as they entered the city proper, and threaded their way through its streets. Claudius was again reminded of Brundisium. Every road seemed to lead in the direction of the garrison. All of a sudden, there it was before them, a huge impenetrable fortress. Neither man had ever seen a permanent Roman army camp before, so they stopped, dismounted and stared in wonder, just as two small boys would in beholding an awe inspiring sight for the first time. The groups of buildings and various other structures, in the city proper, just stopped and a great grassy plain stretched before them. The plain circled the fort, over its entire periphery. Its depth was perhaps a half-mile before it reached the actual walls of the fort, and what walls they were. Very formidable, made of timbers, stone and mortar. Their thickness was indeterminable but they rose vertically, five times a man’s height, topped with a stone rampart and a parapet. Sentries, with only their helmeted heads and shoulders visible, above the rampart, spears at rest, helmets gleaming in the sunlight, walked, twenty paces left turn, twenty paces right. The walls extended for more than a mile, in either direction, from the main gate, with an elevated watchtower every two hundred paces. Walking their horses they approached the massive gates made of logs, as big around as a man’s shoulder width, vertically fastened together with thick iron straps and massive iron bolts. The gates were hinged and open and supported by more huge verticals and another large round log, fastened horizontally between the supports. The traffic, through those gates, was extremely heavy. A steady stream of people, animals and wagons, passing both in and out of the camp. Claudius thought, it would be an easy matter to close those gates and man those walls to defend against an invader. Many would die in the attempt to breech those walls.

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They inquired at the gate, asking the gate guards if they knew where to find a soldier named Septimus Aquinus. The guards gave each of them, and each other, a quizzical look. “Yes,” one of the guards said, “I know him. How do you know him, if I might ask?” “He is an old friend of my father’s, they fought together in Africa, under Marius,” Claudius said. “Septimus has come a long way since Africa,” the older guard said “He is the top soldier in the Tenth Legion. He is primus pilus now and Africa was a long time ago. He may not even remember your father.” “I shall give it a try,” Claudius said. “Can you give us directions to his quarters?” “Follow this main road to the center of the garrison. There you will see a large guarded stone building, with many standards and pennants. That is the general’s head quarters. As you face the building you will see some permanent officer’s tents on both sides. The second tent on the right is the tent of Septimus Aquinus. If he is not there you will have to ask someone where he is.” The two travelers mounted their horses, thanked the sentry for his help and set off down the main thoroughfare. To the two pair of untrained eyes, the vastness of the camp was overwhelming. “Camp” was an inadequate word. It was really a city within a city, with the normal commerce and trade expected in a city, replaced with the same activity but with a definite military preciseness. They passed a blacksmith’s shop, an armorer’s shop, a bakery, complete with a mule-powered millstone. They passed a great hall where food for the legion was cooked and served. There were hospitals and stables, barbershops, and even taverns, where a soldier could get a drink. There were row upon row of tents for the ordinary rankers, regularly sited, on regularly spaced streets, as far as the eye could see. Each tent had a number and each row of tents faced a street, which branched off the main road and was numbered in a logical way. A soldier could find his way back to his tent, as long as he knew what his street and tent number was. They passed a large parade ground, where marching groups were drilling, horsemen were galloping to and fro, competing in some sort of equestrian contest. There was a weapons training site where small groups worked with sword or spear, a buried post as their silent opponent. As they approached what was obviously the center of the camp, there was no mistaking the command building. It was an imposing two-story affair of log construction with a masonry foundation. The first story was a pillared porch that ran the full width of the structure. The second story was a railed balcony. Great wooden doors allowed entry to the building and a fully armed soldier stood on either side of them. As was the camp itself, the general’s quarters could easily be defended if under attack. Four open windows and a door looked out on the porch. They were shuttered closed, against the winter chill, but also effectively sealed the building. There were eight smaller buildings; four on either side of the main building that appeared to be the permanent tents, the sentry had spoke of. Their tops were peaked, their roofs and sides were made of canvas and the low sides were wood, with stone foundations. The entry door was also of wood. Each structure contained some sort of fireplace as evidenced by masonry chimneys at the rear of each tent. “Was it the second tent on the right the guard mentioned, Marcus?” “Yes, that was what he said Claudius. What are you going to do?”

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“Why I’m going to see if anyone is at home,” he replied. With that he dismounted and strode up to the door and knocked, although not too loudly. “No one here I wonder where he is?” he called back to Marcus. As the two men stood by their mounts, a soldier passed by. Looking at the obviously bewildered pair, he inquired, “Are you two, by any chance, looking for Septimus?” “Yes we are. Do you know where we might find him?” “He’s on the parade ground. You will know him because he is a centurion astride a black horse, drilling a pack of know-nothings. That’s the parade ground over there,” he said, pointing to the large open area they had just recently passed. “We will seek him there. Thank you for the help.” “Don’t mention it,” the soldier replied. They walked their mounts back to the parade ground, a short distance away, and spotted the man the soldier had described. The squad he was drilling obviously didn’t want to be there. They were in full battle dress, and although it was sunny and a little cool, each man was sweating profusely. “We will do this until you idiots get it right. Now let’s do it again. Forward, huttwo-three-four, to the right oblique, execute.” Most of the squad took a partial turn to the right. Several of the group continued straight ahead. One errant marcher, realizing his mistake, stopped, and the others behind kept going and collided with him. The soldiers all began milling around knowing a tongue-lashing was coming. The mounted centurion was irate. He got off his horse and threw his riding crop into the dirt in disgust. “All right idiots. That’s enough for today. You will all return here tomorrow, at the fourth hour, and we will do this again and again, until you get it right. I strongly suggest you come tomorrow with different attitudes. My patience has a limit and you are rapidly approaching it; now go back to your billets, you are dismissed!” Turning, the centurion noticed the two men, with horses, standing there obviously waiting for him. “Who are you two and what do you want,” he said, unceremoniously. Before he spoke, Claudius quickly took in the man standing before him. He was tall, but not overly so. Perhaps fifty-five to sixty years of age. Thin but in a wiry muscular way. He had snow-white hair peeking out from under his centurion’s helmet, its curved horsehair crest making him seem taller than he really was. He was obviously a man used to giving orders and quite accustomed to having them obeyed. What Claudius had thought was a crop was actually a cane made of twisted vines about two feet long. “You must be Septimus Aquinus,” Claudius said. “I am he and who is it that wants to know?” the officer barked in return. “My name is Claudius and this is my friend Marcus. My father is Rufus Flavius Pollinius; you might remember him from the war in Africa, against Jagurtha? He said you served together in that campaign.” The man took a small step backward, obviously surprised at what he just heard. Yes of course I remember Rufus, how could I ever forget. He and a man named Audaxus, on their own initiative, took command of two centuries, attacked an overwhelming mounted force and saved the rest of us from getting butchered by a few thousand Numidian cavalry. Those boys blunted a surprise attack and allowed the rest of the army to form up and launch a counter attack. They faced almost certain death in their actions. The Gods saved them all, except for a few. How could a body ever forget that? If it

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weren’t for Rufus, I might not be here having this conversation with you. How is my old friend Rufus anyway?” “Well right now he is on the mend from a nasty wound he received in a recent scuffle. It will take time, but I think he will be all right. He sends his regards and hoped that you will be able to help me in my quest. I, and my friend here want to join the army of Caesar who is said to be preparing for a campaign to subdue the Gauls, across the Alps.” “I see Rufus stays well informed as to what’s going on with the army, eh? Yes its true, Caesar is going to Gaul. He is filling out two legions here in Ravenna. The plan is to meet up with two more legions, coming from Spain, after we cross the Alps. You two aren’t running from the law are you?” Claudius and Marcus exchanged looks of apprehension. “Why no sir,” replied Marcus, “We just want a little adventure in our lives is all, sir.” Septimus burst into laughter and continued to laugh until the tears were streaming. “Oh, I haven’t had a good laugh for a long time and it did feel good. It’s an old legion joke lads. Half the men here, signing-up for the legions, are running from the law. They think the legion is a better fate than prison, and you get paid for it to boot. Little do they know that the army is a very hard life. You work, work, work, march, work some more and then you have to fight with giant barbarians who are trying to split your skull with an axe.” He started to laugh again. “After all of that, and if you are still alive, you begin to think jail might not have been such a bad place after all. Come on, let’s retire to my tent. There is a chill in the air. We can build a nice fire, warm up and have a cup of wine. I want to hear all about my old friend Rufus and what he’s been up to all these years.” As they made their way, Septimus motioned to a soldier to come over and issued him instructions. “Take these three horses to the stables and make sure they are properly bedded down for the night. Tell Collinus I said to give them all a brushing, water them and feed them with oats, not hay, understood?” “Yes sir,” the soldier replied, and headed off leading the horses. “Now that’s all settled, let’s go to my quarters.” The three men spent the rest of the evening telling and listening to each other’s stories, but mostly, the questions were about Rufus and his life. Claudius told an incomplete story, omitting the fact that he had been raised by a Roman senator and not by Rufus his real father and why he had elected to keep the last name of his birth parents as a tribute to them. He also omitted the identity of Drusus, explaining that it was the son of a local magistrate, who had been killed, in Brundisium, rather than the son of a Roman senator, resulting in the scuffle, in which Rufus received his wound. Septimus had food and wine brought in and the three talked far into the night. Just before dawn Claudius looked over at Marcus who had fallen into a deep sleep. “Perhaps we should get a little shut-eye,” Septimus said. “We will have some more opportunities to continue our talks later on. Tomorrow we will get you two enlisted in the Tenth Legion. I will speak to my friend Concillus. He will fix it so you can have a couple of days off before you start training. I will show you a soldier’s Ravenna and we can tip a few cups and talk some more. How does that sound Claudius, son of my old friend, Rufus?”

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“It sounds like a well planned campaign Centurion!” They both laughed at this remark and settled in for a bit of sleep. Sleep wouldn’t come for Claudius. The excitement, of the coming days, kept his mind alive with anticipating the imagined events. He heard the camp start to stir long before sun-up. With the dawn, the bugles blared and the Roman army, ensconced at Ravenna, came to life. With the first bugle call, Septimus was also awake. “Didn’t sleep much did you?” “No sir, too excited I guess.” “Come, wake Marcus up, you can use the basin to wash your face. I have to get a fellow Centurion to fill in for me today. I think I’ll get Facilitus; he owes me a few favors. Maybe he can drill some sense into those louts I was working with yesterday. The closest latrine is opposite tent row number twelve. Look off to the right and you will see the line waiting to use it. Meet back here afterward and we will go to the legionnaire’s mess. We’ll get you a sample of some army food. It’s not much for taste but it will fill your belly and you can march on it all day and not get hungry. After we eat, we’ll look in on the horses to see how they are doing, then, after all of that, we’ll go see Concillus and get you two signed-up.” The army food was plain corn gruel, well fortified with other grains and mixed with honey and slices of apples, it was delicious. A huge slice of bread was plopped on top of the bowl and it was all washed down with a cup of hot tea. That wasn’t so bad, Claudius thought, and Septimus was right, his belly was as full and he felt ready for the day. After Breakfast the three made the short trip to the stables. Claudius and Marcus were anxious to see Thunder and Aphrodite. “What do you intend to do with your horses lads?” Claudius looked at Marcus not really knowing how to answer. “I was hoping to sell my mount Thunder to the army,” Marcus replied. I was told the army is always looking for good horses. How about you Claudius, what will you do with Aphrodite”, Marcus said with a wink. “I-I-I’ll do the same, I guess.” “That sounds like a good plan lads. My man Collinus can surely help us in that regard. Collinus where are you, you son of a harlot. Get off your ass and come out here!” A man came running out of the building and from the smell of him, there was no doubt he was the stable attendant. “Aah, Septimus it’s only you. I thought of you once before this morning when I was wiping that ass you spoke of just now.” Both men laughed and it was immediately apparent the two were friends, as they shook hands, warmly. “Well you old Cunni, what can I do for you this fine chilly morning?” My friends here, and I, want to see to the horses that one of my soldiers brought over here yesterday.” “Your horse is well fed and resting comfortably after you sat on him all day without letting him run a little, you dolt. These other lads however, own two of the finest animals I have ever seen. Keep your clappers on and I’ll go fetch them.” “We always carry on like that, he and I. I have known Collinus for over thirty years and he’s the best man with a horse there is.” Collinus came out of the stable leading Thunder and Aphrodite. Both horses whinnied, almost in unison, as they caught the scent of Marcus and Claudius. “They

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certainly know their masters,” remarked Collinus. “It is such a pleasure to meet men who know how to care for horses. By the way, I have already had an offer from Tribune Solianus. He wanted to buy both of these horses.” As this was said, a uniformed soldier, a tribune, walked out of the stable leading a saddled horse. He was in full military regalia and walked over to where the four men stood. “Greetings Septimus, I wonder if you might know who owns these wonderful horses Collinus has there. I’m curious if either animal is for sale, both are magnificent.” As soon as the tribune spoke, Septimus saluted smartly. After this formality, Septimus addressed the man as an old friend. “Greetings Tribune Solianus, the answer to your question is standing right here next to me. I introduce you to Claudius and Marcus and their magnificent horses are named Thunder and Aphrodite. Lads, give greetings to Solianus Titus Didius. He is camp prefect and cavalry tribune to Caesar’s Tenth Legion.” Here was a most impressive man, Claudius thought. Impeccably dressed, holding his tribune’s helmet under his arm. He was clad in leather marching amour over a long winter tunic, baldric and short sword all covered with a scarlet cloak made of the finest wool, and a superb pair of leather riding boots. Hair of silver-gold, eyes a striking brilliant blue set in a classic Roman face summed up in a man of obvious wealth and power. Claudius guessed his age to be in his early thirties and when he spoke his voice carried smoothly to the ear and also carried authority. “Ah, those are well chosen names lads. I shall keep those names if you decide to sell the animals to me. Well, are they for sale then?” “Yes sir, they are for sale,” replied Marcus. “Good, very good. Come to my quarters at noon today and we will close the sale. Septimus will show you the way. I’m sure we can agree on a price you will both be happy with. Now I must be on my way. Our general desires my presence at a sixth hour meeting. I shall see you at noon then.” Solianus had been holding the reins of his horse, as he gathered them up and vaulted up into the saddle, a motion he had done hundreds of times. At that precise moment, a rat tore from the stable and ran between the legs of Solianus’ horse. At almost the same instant, a small dog, in hot pursuit of the rodent, did the same thing. This surprise movement startled the horse reared up, almost tossing the tribune from the saddle and caused him to lose his grip on the reins. The horse continued to rear-up, hooves pawing the air as if to ward off some un-seen threat. Marcus, sensing Solianus’ plight, quickly stepped in and laid a hand on the terrified animal’s neck. The frightened horse whinnied and calmed immediately. Marcus retrieved the reins and handed them back to the tribune. Clearly shaken by the event, Solianus offered praise to Marcus. ”You have a very obvious talent with horses lad. What was your name again?” “Marcus, Marcus Carbellus sir,” he replied, using the alias he had chosen to adopt. “Well young Carbellus, by the look of you and your friend here, you appear to be about to enlist in the legions. Am I correct in my assumption?” Claudius and Marcus both answered, in the affirmative. “Perhaps you both would like to join as recruits in my cavalry unit. We need more men like you who know horses. You could keep your horses and personally see to their care. Well, what do you say, interested?”

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Marcus looked at Claudius and then again looked at Solianus. “I’m not sure sir,” he said. “I’m not sure what I want to do.” At this awkward moment Claudius spoke up. Grasping Marcus by the arm, he said, “Please excuse us sirs. If you would permit, we would like to have a word in private.” Septimus and Solianus nodded their assent and the two young men stepped away to confer. “I want to stay with you Claudius. We are brothers after all.” “I understand how you feel Marcus. I too want to stay together, but I also believe you should pursue your passion. You love horses. This opportunity is a perfect fit for you. Serving the legion and doing what you love. We can meet-up occasionally. We won’t always be fighting. We will make it a point to get together and you can keep an eye on Aphrodite for me.” “You could join the cavalry with me Claudius. You are an excellent rider, after my expert tutelage,” Marcus said, grinning. “No Marcus, I feel my destiny lies with the foot soldiers. I feel it in my heart. It is where I should be.” Pausing and thinking for a moment, and then nodding, as though giving himself permission, Marcus said, “You are right Claudius, I will join the cavalry.” “You are making a good choice Marcus. This will be right for you,” Claudius said, as he put an arm around Marcus’ shoulders. “Come, let’s get back to Solianus and tell him the good news.” Leading Thunder and Aphrodite, Marcus went with Solianus to enlist in the cavalry. Claudius’ enlistment was a mere formality. With Septimus’ endorsement, the clerk of records added Claudius to the roll swore him in and made it official; Claudius was now a ranker trainee in Caesar’s Tenth Legion. Claudius spent the remainder of the morning acquiring standard legionnaire issue of armor, helmet, weapons and kit gear. Once this was done, he was assigned a billet and given the rest of the day off. He was getting to know some of his tent mates when Septimus showed up with Marcus. Claudius and his tent mates snapped to attention and saluted when they saw the rank of their visitor. Septimus returned the salute and said, “You remember I promised to show you and Marcus the city, Claudius?” “Yes sir, I remember.” “Well now would be a good time to do just that. As a trainee, you won’t be allowed to leave camp. So, what do you say, son of my friend Rufus? Let’s show the women of Ravenna what they have been missing.” “I say yes to you offer sir. A cup and some food would settle well in the belly. What do you say Marcus?” “I say what are we waiting for, let’s go.” It was the beginning of Februarius much of winter still remained. In order for the army to be ready to march in the early spring, the bulk of the training, Claudius underwent, took place in the worst of winter’s weather. One of the first orders of business was instruction and drilling in setting up and dismantling a Roman army marching camp. A legion on the march set up a well-fortified

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camp, exactly the same way, each and every night. A single legion camp consisted of a standard square, twelve hundred feet per side, preferably on a hilltop, with water nearby. The camp was always surrounded by a dug moat and stockade, the moat ten to fifteen feet wide and six to ten feet deep, although depth was determined by the terrain the legion was in. The stockade, made from poles carried by every soldier, in his kit, surrounded the entire inner edge of the moat. A main street led from each of four gates and met in the middle of the camp. Four avenues crossed the main streets, with the ranker and officer’s tents placed facing those avenues, near each other, and the general’s tent in the middle of the camp, where the main streets crossed. The officers shared a tent with one or two others. The rankers slept eight men to a tent and the general slept alone. At first, the setting up and dismantling, of the camp, was inefficient. With liberal application of the Centurion’s cane the construction of a camp became a flawless exercise. Weapons training proved to be effortless for Claudius. He was highly praised by his instructors, but kept his true abilities, with the sword, secret. He knew he was more advanced than his instructors, but listened intently and acted the way the trainers expected he would, just as the other recruits did. Marching and battle-order drills was another matter entirely. There was always someone with two left feet or someone who misinterpreted a command. The offender was quickly singled out and disciplined. It usually only took only one blow for the guilty party to amend his mistake and that painful example was not lost on the other trainees. This is the perfection that Caesar and the Roman army demanded, Claudius thought, brutal but effective. Drill after drill, battle call after battle call, repeated until any given command was executed perfectly. This was the reality of the army of Rome, a highly disciplined force, able to execute any command with pinpoint precision, even in the heat of battle. Claudius soon reasoned what opposing armies had and would painfully discover. Discipline such as this enabled the Roman army to be nearly invincible, and on many an occasion, be badly outnumbered and still able to obtain a victory. Calfskin boots were standard winter issue and were a blessed possession on days when it was snow, ice or slush. When dry, the boots were warm and comfortable. When the weather turned foul wet boots were the result. Claudius soon learned that a coating of animal fat, well worked into the leather, not only kept the leather supple, but also offered a degree of waterproofing. Those that didn’t adopt this practice risked fungus, painful lesions and worst of all, frostbite and the loss of toes. Claudius learned to care for his feet. He reasoned that without foot health, a legionnaire’s job could not be done. As the weeks passed Claudius noted the transformation his training unit underwent. At first, they were a stumbling, inept and inefficient mob. Later, after countless repetitions of the drills, a sudden cohesive transformation took place. They began to perform the required maneuvers with snap and precision. Their training centurion drove them mercilessly, until even he, displayed the faintest smile of satisfaction, at the improved performance. They trained every day, for most of the daylight hours. Any idle time was spent caring for weapons, clothing or equipment, but most of all, in precious sleep. After more than two months of this intense training, they graduated and became rankers in Caesar’s Tenth Legion. It was then, the rumors started to fly.

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The army, at Ravenna now contained two full strength legions and would soon be deployed. Almost as an omen, the weather started to turn noticeably warmer and the days noticeably longer. It was no surprise when, in the early afternoon, of a typical day of weapons training and marching drills, the Tenth Legion was ordered to assemble on the vast parade ground. They were to hear an address by Titus Fulvius Labienus, legate in command of the Tenth Legion. The general was positioned on a raised dais. To his left stood Septimus Aquinus and all the other legion centurions. To his right stood Solianus Didius and the other military tribunes of the legion. Solianus’ beloved Aphrodite stood tethered to a hitching post off to one side of the dais. The total assembly of five thousand men and nearly a thousand cavalry was truly an impressive sight. Claudius had an excellent view of the two cohorts of cavalry drawn-up off to one side of the dais. The riders were on foot next to their horses and he could clearly see Marcus and Thunder positioned in the front row. There were heralds placed strategically to relay the words of the speakers so each man, no matter how far away he was from the platform, would have full knowledge of what was being said. “Soldiers of the Tenth Alaudae,” Labienus began, “Our army’s commander has asked me to address you today to give you news. In two days hence, The Tenth Legion, commanded by myself, and the Thirteenth Legion Gemina, commanded by Cassius Flavius Piso, will embark on an epic chapter in the history of the Republic. Upon reaching our destination this army will be joined by two more legions, the Seventh Fidelis, commanded by Lucius Gaius Calicus and the Twelfth Victrix, commanded by Lepidus Gaius Balbus. As you may know, the commander of these combined legions is none other than our Consul, Gais Julius Caesar.” Spontaneously, a rousing cheer went up from the assemblage. When the cheering died down Labienus continued, “Caesar has asked me to tell you we are going to Gallia Comata “Gaul-Across-the-Alps”. There is information that says the Gallic tribes are in revolt, which if allowed to go un-checked, can be a threat to Rome and to all of Italy. The purpose of this campaign is to quell any rebellion and let those barbarians know what they would face if they so much as think about invading Italy.” Another cheer erupted from the troops. “The journey will be long, cold and hard. We will have to cross great mountains and ford mighty rivers and occasionally live off the land. Caesar asked me directly, ‘Is the tenth ready?’ I answered him; the tenth is ready and always will be so. Did I lie to my commander soldiers?” “No, no,” they thundered, from every throat. “Is the tenth ready as always?” “Yes, yes,” they shouted, as if with one great voice. Quiet again ensued and Labienus began again. “As I said, the army will march in two days time. You have that span to put your affairs in order. If you do not have the duty, you are free to do as you please. Stay out of trouble soldiers, use your time well and do not, I repeat, do not miss muster.” The general then raised his right arm in salute and declared “Senatus Populesque Romanus”, for the “Senate and People of Rome.” Septimus now stepped forward and gave the command to salute, as Labienus and his officers filed off the platform. Looking back to the soldiers Septimus shouted “Dismissed” and another great cheer went up from the ranks. Two days, Claudius thought, I will seek out Marcus; we can spend some time together. “You seem well Marcus. The cavalry seems to agree with you.”

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“It does Claudius. You were right. I am much happier here than I would have been in slogging through the ice and snow. At times we trained close to the infantry. I saw how cold they were and how difficult it was. I thought of you often.” “It wasn’t as bad as I thought Marcus. Our journey here toughened me up a bit I think. Once I learned how to keep my feet dry, I was much better off. Tell me, what is it like to be an equestrian in Caesar’s cavalry?” “As you said, the cold was the worst part. The sword skills you taught me came in quite handy. I had no difficulty with that part of the training, and the horsemanship drills were easy for me. I had some trouble with the lance, but once I got the feel of its weight, I was much better at it. It is amazing Claudius, how little the cavalry knows about horses. Their methods to care for a sick horse are primitive at best. I showed them a few things and gained their respect. Even Solianus sought me out to thank me for my efforts. He is riding Aphrodite. I hope that sits well with you. I felt as though my sister would receive the best treatment possible, being ridden by our commander, rather than being a mount for an ordinary trooper. She is only in his care, you still own her you know. Solianus was agreeable to you keeping her if he could ride her.” “I heartily approve of it Marcus. I can see your reasoning. Your choice was a wise one and I thank you for considering me and my sister in your decision.” The two men laughed at the reference. The two men spent the rest of the day together, had a meal, talked of old times and what the coming campaign might involve and just generally enjoyed each other’s company. Claudius drew sentry duty the day before the army’s departure, which limited his time with Marcus. However, when they were together they did get to visit Thunder and Aphrodite. Both horses gave Claudius a warm welcome when they picked up his scent. As he said farewell to Aphrodite, he put an arm around her neck and gave her an apple he had acquired from the cook tent, and had been saving just for this occasion. “Stay safe my sister. I shall miss your beauty and your swift powerful strides. I know you will serve Tribune Solianus well.” He wiped away a tear as he made his goodbyes to his sister and to his brother. The two made their way to their billets, coming to the point where they would have to part. “I don’t know how much we will see of each other Marcus, perhaps very little. I will miss you brother.” “I will miss you also Claudius. The circumstances of our meeting and our time together meant very much to me. You saved my life back in Ariminum and gave me wise counsel on my choice of my military duty. I hope I can repay the debt some day. Until then be safe brother.” “You owe me no debt Marcus. After all, what brother wouldn’t do all he could do to save his long lost twin from harm,” both men erupted into laughter. “Our intertwined fate has always been in the hands of the Gods Marcus, just as it is now. The Gods brought us together for a purpose. I believe they will protect us until that purpose is fulfilled.” The two embraced and then each man strode away headed toward their duty station, saddened at their parting yet at the same time, excited about the adventure that was yet to come.

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The army left Ravenna with much pomp and pageantry. The Tenth, chosen by lot, led the procession. Titus Labienus, mounted, at the lead, then six military tribunes, then came Septimus, also mounted. Next came the standard bearers, carrying the legions awards, their helmets covered with lion’s heads, the hides trailing over their shoulders and down their backs. Next came the Aquilifer, carrying the golden eagle, mounted on a long pole, the well-known symbol of a Roman legion. The body of the Tenth legion was next, ten cohorts moving, at what seemed like a snail’s pace, as nearly ten thousand feet churned the road, raising dust from the semi-frozen ground. The next formation was a troop of cavalry, with Solianus at the lead. The auxiliaries were next, with archers, siege equipment and supplies, carried by hundreds of mules, some pulling wagons. Next was the baggage train followed by the Thirteenth legion, in a formation exactly the same as the Tenth. It took nearly half a day for the procession to clear the camp, and it stretched for almost six miles along the road. The road they were traveling rose steadily up hill, allowing Claudius a look back at the spectacle of a Roman army on the march. The procession of marching men was so large it created a cloud of moisture, emanating from the marching bodies; it hovered over the procession as it snaked its way along the road in the chill morning air of Aprilis. It wasn’t long before the army left the road and headed cross-country, due west toward the setting sun. Rumor had it, that they would intercept the Via Amelia, by late in the day. A marching camp, with moat and stockade was not required as long as the army remained in friendly territory. The army simply came to a halt, moved off the side of the road and set up camp, each contingent finding it’s own space to accommodate itself, but in a very efficient and orderly fashion. Once the cook fires were lit and the tents pitched, the army settled in for the night. The next day, when the army deployed on a proper Roman road, the speed of their movement seemed to double. The rhythmic tramp of the soldier’s feet gobbled up the miles. The army was met and cheered as it passed through each city. Faventia, Mutina, Parma, all had large populations and welcomed the troops warmly as they passed through. No soldier was allowed into the cities. The combination of women and wine would be too great a temptation for a disciplined force to resist and the commanders dealt severely with any soldier that missed morning roll call. The penalty was death. When the army reached Placentia the terrain turned to the rolling foothills of the Alps and the air became noticeably colder. After crossing the Padus River, which took the better part of two days, they came in sight of The Alps. How magnificent and foreboding they looked, Claudius thought. Unbelievably high snow-covered peaks, windwhipped, the earth’s most perfect barrier to man’s progress. “How will we ever get over them,” Claudius said, to his marching companion, pointing at the mountains? Dardanus, a veteran of six major campaigns and eighteen years service, looked at Claudius and said, “I suspect at this time of year, we will be up to our asses in snow. It will be rough going until we clear the pass, then, who knows what it will be like on the other side. Perhaps it will be just like the terrain on this side.” “There is a pass then,” Claudius asked? “I hope there is. You didn’t think we was going to climb those sheer rock faces, did you?”

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“No, no, I didn’t even want to even think about it, I wasn’t sure,” Claudius stammered. This brought a hearty laugh from those within earshot of the conversation. “Don’t worry lad, you will see what it’s all about by tomorrow.” Tomorrow came soon. The first bugle call, bringing the camp to life, sounded tinny and muted in the frigid morning air. A little snow had fallen overnight and covered everything with a blanket of white. The white soon turned to a muddy brown as the army packed-up and started to move. At almost the same time, the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, quickly driving away the chill of the night. Breakfast that day was only hard biscuits and hot tea sweetened with honey. The camp talk said it was good weather to attempt a crossing so the general wanted to waste no time in doing so. “Will we be in hostile territory once we cross the Alps Dardanus?” “Aye lad I fear we will. Rumor has it that tonight’s camp will be a fortified one, so I guess that answers your question, eh? We will have some fun digging in the frozen ground. More pick than shovel I fear.” As the army made its way toward them, the mountains appeared to loom even higher than they had seemed before. The terrain turned steep and rocky. The trees, plentiful before, now became sparser and eventually disappeared. The Tenth was the procession’s trailing legion this day allowing Claudius full view of its considerable length, as it traveled uphill ahead of him. From a distance, it resembled a giant black snake slowly slithering up the white slope towards the mountaintops, which were still shrouded in mist. Will all of us ever make it across, he thought? All of a sudden, there it was, exactly as Dardanus had said, a pass between two towering peaks. The Thirteenth had already started to work its way through. He could see men with long poles testing the depth of the snow, guiding the column leaders to the spots where the footing was most secure. The officers were walking, leading their mounts and he could clearly see the horses struggling through the deep snow. “We are lucky, being that we be the trailing legion today.” “Why Dardanus, what is our advantage when trailing?” “When we get to that pass, the snow will be trampled down pretty good. It will be easier going for us.” “You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that. It is a bit of luck, isn’t it?” “We won’t be so lucky if we get attacked from the rear,” Dardanus said, with a snort. The going was slow. The beasts made the crossing quite well, with a balking mule or two, once in a while. It was anything with wheels that created most of the difficulty. Claudius, and many of his fellow soldiers, had to break ranks dozens of times to push or pull a wagon through the snow or over rocks hidden under the snow. In spite of the cold, the men were sweating with their efforts. The going was very tough. With the persistence of any Roman undertaking and the muscle power of thousands of arms and legs, the entire army made it through the pass before nightfall. Coming down the mountain trail on the downward leg of the trek, the view was breathtaking. Mile after mile of fertile green valley, as far as the eye could see. He could see the plain dotted with forests, and lakes and crossed by rivers. The panorama presented, was awe-inspiring as Claudius, never having seen the like, drank in the view. “Don’t get to feeling too good,” Dardanus said, we still have to dig a moat, build a

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stockade and pitch our tents before you will have any time to stop for food and rest. Aye, we will appreciate our supper tonight and because our camp will be a usual marching camp, the food will be hot and there will be plenty of it.” The army did work well into the night, by torchlight. The small shovels, each legionnaire carried were well used. The semi-frozen ground, yielded to the pick and the moat, ten feet wide and ten feet deep, was completed. As dawn approached the camp was complete. Everyone ate, and those off duty, took to their bedrolls and fell into deep exhausted sleep. It seemed like only the briefest time passed before Claudius was being wakened to do sentry duty, but the sun was well up and it was actually mid-morning. As he put on his armor and gathered up his shield and weapons he looked over at Dardanus lying on his bed pack. “Take care you don’t fall asleep on sentry Lad. We wouldn’t want to lose you just as we was becoming good friends now would we?” “Thanks for the heads-up my friend. Don’t worry I am wide-awake and I intend to stay that way.” After Claudius stood sentry duty, it was late afternoon. There were to be no drills this day. The general knew the men were spent from the crossing and they would camp here another night for a well-deserved rest. Claudius took to his bed, secure in the knowledge that the legion was well protected behind a moat and stockade and he slept soundly until dawn of the next day. He awoke even before the usual bugle call and was ready to travel when the order was given. The army must link up with the Seventh and the Twelfth to properly display the might of Rome. The army, as it was, might present to tempting a target to an ambitious force of equal or larger size and Labienus had his orders from Caesar. No major conflict or offering of battle until the four legions had linked up. The two legions broke camp gathered up all their equipment and set out headed in a westerly direction. Mounted scouting parties were dispatched at different intervals to attempt to make contact with the other two legions. The initial pace was slow but then an order was given to quicken the pace. Caesar liked his troops to travel fast and this was a drill to test that ability. The lead legion, which this day was the Tenth, quickly outdistanced the equipment and baggage trains. The Thirteenth stayed with those slower moving bodies to insure their safety. Another order was given and now the entire Tenth legion was at a fast trot. Claudius relished the fast pace. He hadn’t had a good run in some time and he could feel the demands of the fast pace. From his position in the ranks, he could see the general and his officers trotting their horses. After approximately a mile, many of the rankers started to become winded and tired. Claudius still held the pace with hardly any effort. Rufus was right, he thought. My training has held me in good stead. After about another half mile the pace was slowed to a walk. The troops were spent, but not exhausted. When most all had caught their breath, another bugle call came and the ranks again broke into a trot. Twice more the bugle call, to a double time, sounded and the legion gobbled up the distance to arrive at some imaginary point to do battle. Running in full battle dress, with full kit and weapons was indeed a chore. Even Claudius and all the rest of the rankers were now exhausted and the leader called a halt. The legion did not break ranks and fall to the ground to rest. The men stood at attention until the general had rode the full length of the column to inspect the condition

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the men were in. Finally the command to fall out was given. Then and only then were the men allowed to sit down to rest. Most fell down gasping for air and reaching for their canteens. Claudius regained his breath quickly and sought out Dardanus. “How goes it old-timer, I was worried about you when we doubled the pace.” “I’ll be all right in a moment laddie. I just need to catch my breath is all.” It was some time before Dardanus could speak clearly. “My, these old bones made quite a clatter when we was running. I know Caesar likes to rush so I should have been expecting something like that. What I need is two or three more of those and I will be in fighting form.” A few of the men chuckled hearing Dardanus but no one made any comment knowing full well that one day, they too would be hard pressed to double-time, in full gear, as Dardanus had just done. The army had been in the lands of the Helvetti as they had descended from the Alps. That tribe was not known to be hostile but anything was possible if the rumored insurgency had spread. After resting for three days, the army again marched. Camp talk said they would march to meet up with the two other legions from Spain. The scouts from the two armies had linked up and all four legions were now headed toward a fertile plain with high ground and good water. A perfect spot for a camp. The Tenth and Thirteenth reached the meeting spot first. The site was surveyed; the surveyor’s boundary flags were placed, and adequate space was left for the Seventh and the Twelfth to set theirs. The first arrivals began digging, it wasn’t long after that the two legions from Spain arrived. The Seventh was the lead force and Claudius could see the rest of the column off in the distance. His century was down in the moat when the new arrivals began to pass by. “Watch this,” Dardanus said. “Now that’s a proper Roman legion.” The soldiers, of the Seventh were in precision step and the force of five thousand men seemed to move as one man. Claudius heard a distant shout and the column made a precise oblique maneuver to the left. There was no doubt this move was done to demonstrate the precision a well-disciplined legion could exhibit. Some of the marchers wore a smirk on their faces, others a wide self-satisfied grin. They knew they were good and didn’t mind showing it. The soldiers digging in the moat stopped, leaned on their shovels and watched. There’s a confident blooded legion Claudius. “When the barbarians see that they’ll probably shit themselves and wish they were back home, sitting around their cook kettles.” “What legion is it Dardanus?” “I believe it’s the Seventh Fidelis, fresh from Spain. That looks like Calicus in the lead. I saw him once in the civil war, he’s a good general, knows his stuff. He is putting on a show for us, make no mistake.” Claudius heard another command given and the column straightened out, marched parallel to the moat diggers and came to a precise halt. A bugle call sounded and the soldiers broke ranks fanned out and began the construction of their camp. The site ideally suited the army of the combined legions. It was on high ground with a commanding view of the entire valley. There was adequate water nearby and large groves of trees interspersed for miles over the valley floor. These forests meant shelter

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for game an offered a chance for some hunting to supplement the salted pork and dried mutton the legions carried. They also offered a limitless supply of firewood. The four legions settled into a daily routine and hunkered down for a welldeserved rest. When there was some idle time, Claudius sought out Marcus to talk and take a meal together. “He has taken me under his wing Claudius. I believe I will be a squad leader very soon.” “Who Marcus, who has taken you under his wing?” “Why Solianus of course. He highly respects my opinion on horses and he also thanks me for letting him be guardian to Aphrodite. He worried more about her getting through the pass than he did about his own men.” “I don’t see that as a bad thing. He’s sort of like you Marcus, he loves horses. Did all the cavalry clear the pass safely?” “Yes except for a few minor mishaps. One horse broke a leg and had to be put down, but other than that, I think it went very well. Did you know there are only two cohorts of cavalry Claudius? Rumor has it that the other two legions have none. If that’s true, we will be the ones to carry the load and scout for the whole army. I hope we stay with the Tenth.” There’s no way of knowing Marcus. We will just have to wait and see.” Just as Septimus had said, when you weren’t marching or fighting, there was much work to be done. Claudius wasn’t sure if it all was necessary but it did keep the men busy. There also were drills, any time of the day or night, in any weather, “To stay sharp,” the centurions would say. Claudius felt as though he were becoming rusty with his sword work. He tried to find excuses to go off by himself and practice; but it was becoming ever more difficult to do. The weather stayed crisply cool with days of sun. The earth, so warmed, began its yearly sprout of plant-life. As a result, the entire valley, where the army was camped, became a verdant green expanse with an abundance of wild flowers. What rivers they could see were in torrent with the snowmelt from the Alps finding its way to seek low ground, to a greater faster flowing river, or to the sea. By now Claudius was well familiar with his seven tent-mates. With the exception of Dardanus, all of them were about his age. Five were veterans and had seen action in battle. He and Lentullus were the only recruits, so, as was fitting, the two took much verbal abuse and were often the brunt of jokes about their inexperience. There were pranks and practical jokes and the “Vets” never seemed to tire of them. These events always produced much laughter and Claudius and Lentullus took them in stride knowing full well that someday they would be veterans and it would be their turn to taunt. Humor is good, Claudius thought, morale will stay high as long as there is laughter. The laughter soon came to an end. An eighty-man patrol, that had been sent out to scout and forage, was long overdue. Word of it flew through the camp. The sentries were immediately doubled and the entire army was put on high alert. The orders soon came down. Two cohorts from the Tenth would be sent out to look for the missing patrol. Claudius’ century was part of the force and preparations were hastily being made. A troop of cavalry would accompany the two cohorts, for scouting and skirmishing. Claudius wondered if Marcus would be part of the troop.

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The small army was to travel light and fast. Kits were to stay behind, no unnecessary baggage. Other than their weapons and shields, a double ration of hard biscuits and full canteens would be all that the little army would carry. At dawn, the nine hundred plus men, accompanied by two hundred horsemen set out following the direction taken by the missing scouting party. There had been no rain and the trackers had little difficulty in following the trail left by the missing men. Early in the afternoon, the remains of the scouting party were found. The bodies were scattered over a wide area. There was no evidence of any enemy dead. If there were any, their bodies had been carried away. It appeared that a much larger force had overwhelmed the scouting party. It also was apparent that the slaughtered party had no chance to escape or to make much of a stand; there was no evidence of any enemy cavalry. The vultures were circling overhead and some were even on the ground picking at the bodies. The birds scattered when the rescue force arrived. There were no survivors. It was a sobering sight. Many in the rescue party had never seen a massacre before and some even vomited at the sight. All eighty men, in the scouting party were accounted for and buried with full military funeral rites. A rider was sent back to inform the main army of what had happened, while the recovery force used the waning hours of daylight to go into a fortified camp to spend the night. Just as the camp was completed, and campfires were being lit, the enemy struck again. They came howling and pouring over a nearby hill. There were thousands of them, running at full speed, screaming at the top of their lungs. They were the most fearsome looking men Claudius had ever seen. They were tall, lean, and muscular with long flowing hair and chest-length beards and mustaches. Their faces and bare upper torsos were covered in blue paint. Some wore britches or knee length skirts of patterned cloth. Many were bare headed; some wore small metal helmets covering the top of their heads. Their shields were small, round wooden affairs crisscrossed with metal straps; their swords were long wicked looking weapons and Claudius noticed some held them with two hands, as they ran. Some carried only a spear and shield, some only the long sword, with the shield strung across their back. Some carried only a knife and some even brandished huge hammers, pitchforks and clubs as weapons. The howling horde split and attacked two sides of the camp simultaneously, pouring into the moats at the eastern and western ends of the camp. The moat slowed their charge and as they scrambled up the steep opposing side. As the attackers got to the stockade, the Romans were there to meet them, stabbing and hacking with their weapons. The disciplined legionnaires presented an almost impenetrable wall of shields and bristling steel points. The other two sides of the camp were not attacked and the Romans manning those sides calmly stood behind the stockade and waited for orders to attack or to repel. The ends of the camp under attack, held their ground. No invader was able to get inside the camp. The moat was beginning to fill up with enemy dead. It was the most horrific sight Claudius had ever seen. Hundreds of men either dead or dying, lying in puddles of gore. Trying mightily, the attackers could not break the Roman line. The attackers realizing the futility of their effort broke off the assault and retreated. As if responding to some unheard command, the enemy turned tail and ran back in the

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direction, from which they had come, disappearing over a rise, into the darkness, as if they had never been, the only evidence of their coming, the dead bodies in the moat. It was over almost before it began. A few Romans had been killed, there were possibly fifty wounded, but in all, the Tenth had fared well. Claudius now knew why a moat and stockade were standard practice. If the attack had come before the moat was dug, many more Romans would have died, he thought. “It was just a test lad,” Dardanus said. He and Claudius had fought side by side. “Aye, they just wanted to see how strong we were. If that had been a full attack there would have been lots more of them.” “Do you think they’ll be back Dardanus?” ”Nah, we gave it to them pretty good. They don’t like dying any more than we do. They probably never attacked a fortified camp before. They figured they could break us quick. So now they know better. I expect it will be different next time.” The rescue force returned to the main army camp the next day. They were able to capture and question several wounded survivors from the moat. They learned the attackers were from the Arverni tribe so it was now evident that all of Gaul had become hostile territory and all the tribes were being called to arms. Over the next several days there was a fever of activity around the general’s tent. Caesar had joined the four legions and taken command. Claudius occasionally saw him astride his white horse “Toes”, so named because the horse had a peculiar hoof formation resembling human toes. Caesar not only was seen conversing with his officers he was also often seen strolling through the camp chatting with the rankers on sentry duty or engaged in some other routine task. It was rumored that Caesar’s troops loved him and would die for him. It was also rumored that Caesar was looking for a quick decisive victory against any tribe. If he could achieve this goal, the morale and confidence of the Gauls would be greatly diminished, and that of the legions, greatly enhanced. The plan was a basic one. Divide the four legions in half and send them off in opposite directions, tempting an enemy army to attack a reduced force and gain a quick victory. With each divided force in almost constant contact with the other, by way of mounted messengers. Either force could call for reinforcements on very short notice. The Gauls, having no idea how rapidly a Roman army could move, would think they were facing two legions and would in fact be facing four. The trick was not to get to far apart. Caesar was gambling the Gauls would have no inkling that they were being led into a trap and would attack, as soon as they sensed an advantage. The strategy was for each force to march out, in their assigned direction approximately fifteen miles, when this was accomplished the Tenth and Thirteenth would take a hard right turn. The Seventh and Twelfth would do the fifteen miles out then take a hard left turn. Keeping the marching pace relatively equal, the two armies would converge at an imaginary point due west into the setting sun. The greatest danger would be at a point when the two armies were the greatest distance apart. After that they would be converging toward their meeting point. Caesar was gambling that the Gauls would not have this all figured out and turn the tables on him. The cavalry would also split giving each smaller force greater mobility and scouting capability. Caesar was betting the Gauls would take the bait before they realized what was happening. He was right.

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The two armies made their fifteen miles the first day, with no enemy activity, and both put into fortified camps that night. On the second day, heading toward their point of convergence, the Tenth and Thirteenth encountered a very large enemy force ready to do battle. Claudius could see the vast, disordered horde of men perhaps a mile or so in front of them. The bugle call for battle order sounded and two Roman legions formed up perfectly, very matter of fact, with no confusion or hurry. Each centurion knew exactly what to do and the orders were carried out to the letter. The Gauls appeared to be in no particular hurry or grouping. The huge number of men just observed the Romans, waved their weapons and mouthed, what Claudius imagined were insults. There were no enemy cavalry visible. Even the leaders were all but indistinguishable from the rest of the horde. Caesar issued his orders, conditions were acceptable for battle and the forces were committed. He also dispatched four riders, each with a spare horse. Their job was to locate the other half of the army and lead them back, at the double, to join the fray. The two armies faced each other across an open plain. There were a few sparsely spaced trees but nothing that would hamper the maneuvers of the Roman cohorts. The Romans held fast, waiting, and the Gauls, when they decided to attack, broke into a run, screaming wildly and brandishing their weapons. As the Gauls closed on the Roman ranks, a long single bugle call sounded. Each and every Roman soldier reached for his canteen and took a long pull from it. At one hundred paces apart, the front rank of legionnaires launched their pilums devastating the front rank of the Gauls. A second wave of pilums was launched, with the same devastating effect; but the enemy kept coming leaping over their dead and wounded to get to the Romans. The battle began as the two armies met with a thundering crash. The long swords and axes of the Gauls immediately became a detriment for there was no room to wield them effectively. The short swords of the Romans were much more effective and did their deadly work. The front rank of Romans held under the first onslaught. After a time, a bugle sounded two short blasts and the first rank fell back and fresh soldiers moved in to replace them and continue the carnage. The endlessly practiced routine now proved its worth, body behind the shield, push with the legs thrust with the sword. It was like some hellish machine that rolled forward and dealt death. While this was happening, the rearward Roman ranks clanged their swords against their shields in a cadence to match the push, thrust motion of the front rank. The bodies of the Gauls were beginning to pile-up. In the meantime, the cavalry was harassing the flanks of the Gallic force with hit and run tactics; this action forced the enemy army in upon itself, adding to its confusion. Having no cavalry, the Gauls were defenseless against this action and suffered many casualties from the mounted soldiers. Two more short blasts on the bugle and again the front rank stepped back and the fresh rear rank stepped forward, stabbing, pushing, and stabbing driving the Gauls ever backward. The battle raged on. Several hours passed with no clear advantage to either side. The sun rose, it was now directly overhead. The heat, dust and confusion were overpowering. Claudius, being in a rank waiting to move up, could see some of the Gauls just stop and kneel, panting and exhausted from lack of water. The Romans however,

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maintained their well practiced pace, unhurried, systematic, the mighty military machine at work. Claudius now moved up to the front rank. There was a Gaul he could clearly see, he was off to the left and he seemed to be trying to rally his men around him. The man stood a head taller than his fellows and continued to point with his long sword to a point at a distance to Claudius’ right. The Gaul was able to marshal a force and they began moving toward the Roman line. Claudius paused, insured his own safety and then stepped up on the body of a dead Gaul to take a brief sweeping look to the left. He immediately realized what the Gallic leader was trying to accomplish and it caused him a moment of panic. The large group of Gauls had penetrated the Roman line and was attempting to isolate and cut off the entire right end of the Roman front. Claudius couldn’t tell if any Roman commanders had seen or sensed what was happening or were making any attempt to counter it. He kept on fighting but now they were definitely being pushed to the right. The encircling movement continued and Claudius realized there was no help coming. If this enemy flanking attempt succeeded, he and hundreds of his mates would be cut-off and badly outnumbered. It was no systematic battle now; it was every man for himself, fighting for his life. Claudius could see the Gallic leader, the man who had rallied his forces and had now gained the advantage. The man knew how to handle a weapon. His long two-handed sword was cutting a swath through the Roman ranks. A small round shield was slung over his back and he fought with courage and great energy, vanquishing all who came against him, yelling at the top of his lungs. Claudius took a blow off his shield, swept it aside and thrust deep into the chest of a Gaul. Before the wounded foe even hit the ground another attacker was upon him. Using his shield, Claudius drove the man backward, and then fortune played a role. The Gaul tripped over a dead Roman and fell backward. Claudius attacked immediately and ended the man’s life with a quick thrust to the throat. This part of the Roman front was being assailed from all sides, their ranks thinning rapidly, as man after man went down. They were being slowly and inexorably driven to the right. They were also being separated and isolated from the main battle line. Claudius looked around frantically, searching for an escape route, some way out of this rapidly closing trap. It all happened in an instant; when the mind perceives a problem and all the pieces of information, fall into place, in an instant of time. He spotted a piece of high ground topped by a massive old tree, still standing but dead, its huge rotted-out trunk visible above the melee of the action. It resembled a giant cupped hand, the gnarled fingers of branches reaching out like splayed fingers. That’s it. That could be our rallying point, a hand sent from the Gods. If we can reach it, and just hold out for a little while more, surely our men will come to our rescue. “To the tree, to the tree,” he shouted, as loud as he could, trying to be heard above the din of battle. He ran as fast as he could, not bothering to engage, just using his shield like a battering ram to knock aside any Gaul who got in his way. “If we can just get to the tree we’ll be alright,” he shouted. He made it there, along with five others, two of whom were badly wounded. “Shields up lads, I don’t know how long we can last but we can take some of these howling maniacs with us when we go. Can’t we lads?”

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“Aye we can,” the five shouted in unison, as they all huddled together near the giant tree, preparing to die. The tree was so large its rotted out core protected their backs, and flanks from attack. The ground behind the old dead tree dropped off sharply creating a natural barrier from any rear attack. Any brave warrior would have to face the five of them from the front. At this moment the Gallic leader re-appeared. Claudius recognized him as the man who had rallied his men and caused the predicament they were now in. They all just stood, looking at each other. Five Roman soldiers and many, many Gauls with the blood lust in their eyes. The leader knew the Romans were trapped and appeared to be discussing something with several other enemy soldiers, gesturing excitedly and pointing at the five men. An apparent decision was made and only five Gauls advanced on them, the others just leaned on their weapons and watched. “They are going to attack one-on-one,” Claudius shouted. “They’re making a game of it,” one of the other legionnaires said. “Pick your man and stay alive,” Claudius said as their opponents rushed them. Claudius used his shield bottom edge and slammed it into the instep of his opponent. The man momentarily dropped his guard and howled in pain. At the same instant Claudius drove his sword between the man’s ribs. One of Claudius’ mates let a spear sneak through his guard and he died. The two wounded Romans were no match for their opponents and they both perished at the first rush. Two other Romans held their own and defeated their opponents. Each Gaul, who had killed a Roman, went back to his comrades with much backslapping and celebration. A fresh set of adversaries moved in. One of the remaining Romans went down almost immediately, his skull split by a huge axe wielded by the biggest man Claudius had ever seen. Claudius was able to badly wound his opponent, who retired. The third Roman was able to defeat his opponent but suffered a gaping thigh wound and sank to one knee, bleeding profusely. Claudius knew that in the next assault he would be virtually alone. The tall leader now stepped forward. It was to be him and Claudius to decide the winner of the contest. The rest of the Gauls were cheering and brandishing their weapons, knowing they were about to see an epic battle whose story would be told around campfires for generations to come. As the Gaul came at Claudius he was grinning from ear to ear. His hair was long and reddish dark. A massive drooping mustache fell almost to his waist and his naked upper body was covered in a series of strange tattoos. Strangest of all were his teeth, which were very white and looked out of place in the midst of all the hair and battle paint. He was clad only in a loincloth and leggings. His small round shield now on his left arm, his long sword, covered with Roman blood, now at the ready. He did not charge, only circled back and forth, taking the measure of the man he intended to kill. Claudius was also measuring. His opponent was a full head taller than he, and almost certainly outweighed him. He appeared to be very agile for so big a man and moved with a measured grace, smoothly, confidently. It began, the clash of Roman steel against Gallic iron; over and over with a period passing where no clear advantage was gained by either man, until Claudius noticed one critical thing. The swinging of his enormous sword was tiring the Gaul. Claudius

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observed a very slight decrease of speed in every downward stroke of the sword. Raising it, swinging it, raising it to strike again, were requiring more and more effort. Claudius’ shield was a mangled mass of wood and metal, the Gaul’s shield was also heavily damaged. Can my shield outlast his sword, Claudius thought. Then it happened. The Gaul stumbled as his downward sword stroke missed and it threw him off balance. Claudius did not wait for another opportunity to put his opponent on the defensive. He launched a blistering attack with all the quickness and strength he could muster, trying to put his sword through the Gaul’s defenses. No one even saw the blow, it happened so quickly. What the Gaul did see was his left side, opened from backbone to navel, his internal organs visibly protruding from the gaping wound. Claudius stepped back as the Gaul sank to his knees. The man knew he was finished. He offered a saluting motion to Claudius and died, gallantly, silently. The silence spread to the other Gauls. The main battle still raged on for miles around and the noise was deafening, yet, this group of Gauls and a lone Roman soldier stared at each other in stunned silence. The silence was broken by a blood-chilling scream. One of the Gauls ran at Claudius with his weapon raised for battle. This man was very adept with the spear and Claudius was hard pressed to evade the deadly thrusts. Claudius’ ability was tested again and again with the Gaul’s spear point narrowly missing its mark. Claudius looked for a weakness but could find none. Then in an instant, there it was the slightest inkling of weakness. After a particularly long thrust the spear point of his opponent almost touched the ground. Claudius moved as far as he was able in avoiding a thrust to be certain, and there it was again. He baited the Gaul and when the spear point brushed the ground, Claudius made a lightening move with his shield, putting all his weight on its top and slamming it down on the weapon, snapping off the spear point cleanly. The Gaul panicked and attacked desperately trying to use the pointless spear shaft as a club instead of dropping the useless spear and employing his sword. It was a simple matter for Claudius to deflect the blow, block with his shield and bury his sword up under the right breastbone of his adversary. Now his opponents came at him, screaming, one after the other and he defeated them all, one after the other. He lost all track of time. Block, parry, thrust by instinct now, try to stay alive, help will come soon. He knew he was wounded and bleeding. He didn’t know where or how many times, he just kept on fighting through the pain, through the exhaustion, through the fear, trying to hang on until help arrived or he died. He awoke in the field infirmary. Septimus was seated on a campstool looking over at him, smiling and nodding. “Ah Claudius my boy, you are back with us again. I might have known you are your father’s son, after all. What you did yesterday rivals anything I have heard of in my thirty years under the eagles. We don’t know how many of the enemy you killed but there were twenty eight dead Gauls around you when we drove off that mob bent on killing you. The whole army is talking about it. When you are rested, the ‘Great Man’ wants to see you.” “What ‘Great Man’ Septimus, you mean Caesar,” Claudius said foggily, trying to clear his head? “That’s right my boy, asked me personally to extend the invite. He wants to chat with you about yesterday.” “I have been out a whole day Septimus?”

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“Yes but get some rest now and we’ll talk more later on. Oh, by the bye, we routed the Arverni, that’s the tribe we faced, spanked them real good. I expect they won’t be around for quite a while. Rest now, you’ve earned it and, oh yes, well done my boy very, very well done.”

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Chapter VIII Marcus Lucius Carbus It had always been about horses, as far back as his memory would serve him. He remembered the first time he ever sat a horse, at age three. His first love was a little spotted pony his father had purchased for him and his siblings to ride around the family farm. His two brothers and sister were all older than him, and the four children learned horsemanship at an early age. With Marcus, it was much deeper than just pleasure and pastime. It was a true brotherhood. His father saw it immediately, and recognized that his son had a rare gift, a gift of the ability to communicate with horses. Severus Cartanius Carbus was a renowned breeder and trainer of fine horses. His stables were located in Mitulum, a small city in the foothills of the Apennines. Whether it was the climate, or the rich fertile plains, that abounded in the district, Mitulum was known to produce the finest of horses, the best coming from the Carbus stables. These exceptional animals were sought after, always fetching the highest prices and rarely, if ever, disappointing their owners. Marcus vividly recalled that often, a soldier would come looking to buy one of his father’s horses. The soldiers were different from other men. Their bearing was different, strong, more confident and erect. Most often, if the prospective buyer was military, they were officers and Marcus inspected each one closely, fascinated with the helmets, the flowing red cloaks and the weapons. Dashing, he thought, best described their demeanor. Most of his father’s customers came dressed in tunics or sometimes a toga, but unlike the soldiers, the other customers seemed ordinary. Marcus was well schooled as a youth. His father, although not wealthy, could afford to send him to the best schools Mitulum had to offer. Marcus enjoyed school and was a dutiful student. He excelled at his studies, pleasing whatever teacher happened to be instructing him. Learning new things was very important to him; but when school ended for the day, and his household chores were done, he headed for the stables, selected one of the farm mounts, trotted around the corral, to warm the horse’s muscles and then headed for the fields at a full gallop. He loved the feeling he got from the back of a horse. He thought of it as a sense of freedom. High astride a swift, powerful animal that he could control with his knees and hands. When little more than a toddler, he quickly learned how to make a horse respond to subtle commands. His father gave him basic instruction and the boy multiplied that tutelage into skilled horsemanship that even his father envied. Marcus eschewed reins with a metal bit. He would only use reins that attached to a head harness, non-invasive to the horse’s mouth. When meeting a new animal for the first time, Marcus would draw close to the horse’s ear and speak softly to it. From that moment on, the horse seemed to bond with the boy and display an obvious pleasure whenever it caught sight of him or picked up his scent. No one ever knew what he said and Marcus never divulged the words of the private conversations. It was after all, between him and the horse. “You have lots of friends Marcus,” his father would joke, “And they’re all horses,” and then his father would laugh, thinking how funny that was. Of course Marcus had other friends from school and he had his brothers and his sister, but with horses, it was different. They seemed to look to Marcus so that he could

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give them a reassuring pat or word to let them know that everything was all right, and that, what someone was asking them to do, wouldn’t harm them. All horses seemed to trust him implicitly. No Carbus horse ever had to be broken to a saddle. All that had to happen was to have Marcus speak gently into the horse’s ear, put a saddle on it and the job was done. The horse remained calm and took to the saddle as though it were there from the day it was born. When the mares would foal, Marcus was there to assist the mother. When a horse was sick or injured Marcus would be there with the afflicted animal and seem to know instinctively what to do. Bind the leg, put a poultice on, or add some of this or that to the feed bucket, cover him with a blanket, and such. Invariably, in no time, the horse would be well. When an animal was badly injured, enough to be put down. Marcus could never perform the task personally. He would mourn for days afterward, as though it had been his best friend that had died. His older brother Vatinidus once said to him, after a mare had broken her leg, and had to be killed, “Why are you so sad Marcus? It’s as if one of the family had died.” “It’s the same,” Marcus replied, “My sister died today!” On that day, his family truly understood the depth of young Marcus’ love of horses. He was a typical young boy. Average height and weight not particularly athletic but agile enough. He could keep up with his peers at anything physical but never excelled at any one thing until he got on the back of a horse. At that instant he was transformed and became one with the animal. He could perform hair-raising tricks from the back of a galloping horse. He could retrieve objects from the ground. He could stand on the horse’s back and adjust his balance to the horse’s gait, timing the rhythmic movement of his own legs. He could mount a horse as it accelerated into a gallop and vault up onto its back in one smooth swift motion. His friends were amazed at this ability and begged him to perform these feats whenever the opportunity presented itself. “Teach us Marcus,” his friends would say, but he would always decline, saying, “It’s too dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.” He always suspected that his friends were just as happy with this polite refusal. His father would ply him. “Marcus, take out this horse and tell me what’s wrong with him?” Marcus would oblige and let his father know what was wrong, and if he thought it could be righted. If it could, Marcus would take charge of the problem. If the malady could not be corrected, Severus would not sell the horse at a premium and always make the buyer aware of its affliction. In effect, Marcus became largely responsible for the high quality and reputation attached to the Carbus name. He grew through his pubescence and into adolescence and by the time he reached the age of sixteen, he was a sought after authority on horses One of Marcus’ great admirers was a girl named Portia. She was a year younger than he and the daughter of a neighboring sheep farmer. He knew, from the time that they met, that they would one day be husband and wife. He remembered the day he first saw her. He was fifteen at the time. His father had asked him to go to a neighbor’s house to look at a horse that had been acting-up. It was a glorious and with no other duties pressing him, Marcus thought this might be the perfect

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opportunity to do his father’s bidding. As he strode into the neighbor’s yard, slightly more than a mile from the Carbus farm, a beautiful young girl, carrying the most adorable baby lamb, walked right up to him. “You must be Marcus, I am Portia,” she said, offering him her hand. He took her hand but couldn’t form a response to her greeting. He just stood and stared, awed by her beauty, and after what seemed like an eternity, he was able to stumble over a few words. “I, I, err had no idea you were so pretty. If I had known, I would have come sooner.” “Oh posh,” she said. “I don’t care about any of that. Can you fix my horse or can’t you?” she said, very matter-of-factly. “I don’t know. Let’s go take a look at the animal.” She led him to the stable and said, “Wait here.” In a moment she came out leading a beautiful mare about three years old, chestnut brown with a small white blaze on her forehead. “She is a magnificent horse,” he said. Marcus looked the animal over from head to toe, teeth and tongue, behind the elbows, between the barrel and rear legs then scratched his head. Next he put his arms gently around the horse’s neck, spoke softly into her left ear and stepped back. The horse swiveled her head around to her right and looked backward. Marcus immediately went around to the horse’s right rear leg and lifted it to closely inspect the underside of the hoof. “Do you have a pair of steel tongs and a pick?” Portia went into the barn to look and returned, in no time, with the required items. Marcus again raised the hoof, took the pick and pried a small sharp rock out of the hoof and then pulled it all the way out with the tongs. The horse visibly relaxed and whinnied softly. “You’re welcome,” Marcus said. He held up the object to Portia and said, “It was a shard of rock wedged into the hoof, very hard to see unless you know what you are looking for. I asked her what was bothering her and she told me. Apparently it was causing her a great deal of pain. She will be fine now.” Without hesitation, Portia leapt up onto the horse’s back and trotted the mare around the yard a few times. The horse displayed no difficulty with the brief exercise. Portia jumped off the horse, came up to Marcus, threw her arms around his neck and gave him a great big kiss, full on the lips. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen,” she said. Taking her horse’s reins, she began leading the mare back toward the stable, and said over her shoulder, “Come back tomorrow Marcus. Bring a horse this time. We can go riding together and get acquainted.” So it was, Marcus fell in love with Portia and Portia fell in love with Marcus, at their very first meeting. She was a simple girl, not given to frivolity of any sort. Marcus and Portia spent a great deal of time together over the next several years and were as happy as any young couple could be. They planned and dreamed of one day having their own horse farm. She, having an excellent head for figures, would run the business end of the enterprise and Marcus would manage the herd and with the exception of his father’s stock, breed the finest horses the valley had ever seen. Marcus would often steal glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. He loved looking at her profile, her long neck and aquiline Italian nose gave her face a sort of regal aloof kind of look. She had hair as black as a raven’s wing and she always wore

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it tied back in a horsetail fashion. He would sneak up behind her, put his arms around her waist and say, “How is my beautiful little filly today?” She would giggle and say, “Oh Marcus you probably think of me as one of your horses, don’t you?” He would hug her and tease her saying, “Of course I do but you are the only filly in my stable Portia. Yes, we two will make very handsome foals one day, don’t you think?” At this she would blush but he knew that was exactly what she was thinking, for he would often catch her looking at him in that same certain way. Severus knew of the couple’s plans of someday owning their own horse farm and being that she was destined to be the business arm of their venture, he would often invite Portia to join him and Marcus’ buying trips into Mitulum and beyond. They taught her the fine points of buying and selling horses. Severus taught her from thirty years of experience. Marcus taught her from instinct. Severus often learned something himself, watching Marcus evaluate a horse. It was almost a mystical experience to observe the young man at work. He would approach the horse and immediately calm the animal by touching it. Often, he would speak softly into the horse’s ear and the horse would respond with a snort or nicker. He would then silently signal his father, with a prior agreed upon sign, to buy or not to buy. His father’s skill in bartering would then be applied. All of these goings on Portia observed, and absorbed and stored the experiences, in her memory, for future use. The occasion was Marcus’ eighteenth birthday. To celebrate, his father said, “Marcus, in honor of your birthday, your mother and I will treat you, your brothers and sister, to a day in Mitulum. Portia is also welcome if she would like to come along. There is a festival tomorrow and I hear it’s a big one. The city has declared a day in honor of Ceres, the Goddess of the harvest. There will be singing dancing entertainment and much to see and do. Vendors from many miles away will be there to offer something for every taste. What do you say, would you like to go and celebrate your birthday, as a family?” “Yes father I would, it sounds like great fun. I’m sure Portia will want to go too.” “Excellent, then it’s a date. Your mother will be pleased to get the whole family together. Besides, we deserve a holiday, don’t you think?” “We do father, we definitely do.” Severus had been right. The festival was huge and well attended. There were hundreds, if not thousands of people and neither Marcus nor Portia had ever seen such of variety of activities and foods. There were roving musicians, dancers and acrobats and row upon row of vendor’s tents selling every imaginable item. The tents and colorful displays added to the brightness of the festivities. Even Portia, whose demeanor was normally calm and cool, became quite excited with all the events that were going on, just as any teenage girl would do. There was plenty of food, and it all smelled so delicious, a sampling frenzy occurred. It wasn’t long before everyone’s appetite was sated. After eating, the family stayed together for a while but soon Marcus’ father and mother went off to look at the horses for sale, his two brothers and sister found some friends their own age and went off, leaving Marcus and Portia alone. This unplanned isolation pleased the two young lovers and left them to meander and enjoy the festival and each other’s company, with little or no distraction.

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In addition to money his father had provided, Marcus brought money he had been saving for the entire spring and summer. He had planned to buy Portia a special gift and when they happened on a merchant-craftsman selling hand worked silver jewelry, Marcus saw his opportunity. He didn’t buy anything while they were inspecting the merchant’s wares, but after the two had left the tent and sauntered a distance from it, Marcus turned to Portia and said to her, “Portia my love, I have to go and see to something. Wait here for me and I will be right back.” “Marcus, where are you off to?” “Never mind, just trust me and wait, I will be back soon.” “Oh all right, but please hurry, it will be dark soon and there is much more to see.” Hurrying back to the silversmith’s tent, Marcus knew exactly what he wanted. He pointed it out to the merchant. The two haggled over the price a bit but finally agreed on a sum and Marcus went back to Portia with the object wrapped in a piece of blue cloth. “Here my little filly this is something as lovely as you. It will help you when you tie back that beautiful hair of yours.” “Marcus, you shouldn’t have,” she said, not believing her admonition for an instant, eagerly taking the gift from his hand. She un-wrapped the cloth, and emitted a little shriek of pleasure when she saw what it held. It was an exquisite silver hair clasp engraved with birds and flowers and a sunburst pattern. She had admired the piece, when they were in the merchant’s tent, but had passed it quickly by when she realized how expensive in was. “Marcus, Marcus, you foolish man, you sweet foolish man,” she said, hugging him and covering his face with kisses. “I shall treasure this always as a symbol of our love. I will put it in my hair right now.” She quickly fastened the piece and spun around saying, “How do I look? Is it pretty, in my hair?” “It makes you even more beautiful than you already are.” “Come Marcus let’s see more of the festival so I can show-off my gift to the rest of the world,” taking hold of his hand and heading down the aisle between the vendor’s tents. The rest of the enjoyable day passed quickly and it was starting to get dark so the couple decided to head back toward home. As they passed one of the last groupings of vendor tents, Marcus spotted a very intriguing display and decided to go in. Upon entering the tent, he and Portia were astounded at the shops contents. A dizzying variety of smells assailed their noses and even more astounding was the display causing those smells. All four sides of the tent were lined, floor-to-ceiling, with shelves. The shelves contained hundreds of jars, pots and vials, of all sizes, all neatly labeled with what the container held. The merchant came over to assist them. He was definitely not Italian. He wore a long sleeved, black tunic that reached his black shoe tops, which were more like slippers than shoes. A strange little black hat that looked like an upside-down bowl, sat atop his head. His dark eyes were somewhat slanted and he had a long thin wispy moustache with pointed ends that drooped almost to his waist. He was most humble as he touched his fingertips together, gave the couple a respectful bow and greeted them speaking perfect Latin. “Welcome to my shop young lady and young sir.”

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“Forgive me for staring”, Marcus said. “I have never seen someone dressed quite like you before.” “Yes, I know, I am used to being stared at. I was born in Parthia, but my ancestors came from far, far to the east. They migrated to Moesia many hundreds of years ago. My grandfather used to speak in our native tongue and so did my mother. After my grand father and my mother passed away, my daughter and I lost the ability to speak the language of our ancestors. Today we speak only Latin”. “You still dress oddly though,” Marcus said. “Yes we have managed to hold on to that part of our heritage. I adds some mysticism and it also makes people curious, which is good for business.” “Are you a physician,” Portia asked? “In a way. I am called an herbalist. My grandfather was a physician and he taught me all he knew. He was very successful as a healer of the sick. Today, my daughter and I travel all of northern Italy, just as my grandfather did, coming to fairs, like this one, and selling our remedies to the locals.” “Your grandfather must have been a great man to know so much,” Marcus said. “Yes, his name was Tai-Mei and, as you say, he was a great man. My name is Toi-Pat.” Marcus then formally introduced himself and Portia to the man. “Tell me Toi-Pat, do you have any remedies for sick animals, specifically for sick horses,” Marcus asked? “No, I do not. I only deal with remedies for humans, however, there is a man in my village that specializes in animal remedies. He treats the local farmer’s livestock for all sorts of maladies.” The three chatted for a bit more and then parted company. Neither Marcus nor Portia had purchased anything. As they walked down the road toward home Portia said, “Why did you want to stop at that particular vendor’s tent Marcus?” “I don’t know Portia, something drew me there. I felt compelled to go in. Just idle curiosity, I guess.” As the couple ambled along the setting sun cast long shadows across the dusty road. It was a beautiful warm autumn night. The aroma of newly harvested hay, drying in the fields, filled the air making their stroll back to their farms that much more pleasant. Marcus and Portia lolled lazily along, hand-in-hand. “How does it feel to be eighteen?” “Actually not much different than it was to be seventeen,” he said, teasing her. “You are always teasing me,” she said. “Promise me you will never stop.” “I never will”, he said, giving her a lingering kiss on the top of her forehead. Marcus usually escorted Portia to the gate of her family’s farm, and watched until she was safely in the house, he would then continue on, a short distance to the Carbus farm. As they were about to part, she gave him an extra long extra loving look and said, “Don’t go just yet Marcus. I made you a special birthday gift and I want to give it to you. Come with me to the wool shed.” It was semi- dark now, the sun having set below the horizon. They made the way to the shearing pens and entered the wool storage shed. Knowing her way well, even in darkness, she went directly to a support post and raised the wick of a low burning lamp adding light to the room. The piles of wool collected that day, still lay heaped in the

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corners and across the floor. Each of the three shearing pens contained a thick cover of raw wool. “What is it Portia, what have you created for me?” “Turn around and close your eyes, I must display it properly to show you my handiwork,” she said. While he turned around, she reached inside a storage chest and extracted a handsome sheepskin blanket. She had worked and reworked the skin to its ultimate softness then cleaned and scrubbed it until the entire blanket was as perfectly clean and white and almost sparkled like new fallen snow. “Can I open my eyes now?” “Not yet, wait a moment,” she said, amid the noise of a slight rustling sound, then said, “You may look now.” She stood before him wrapped in the folds of the extra large blanket, slowly turning so he could appreciate the fineness of his gift. “Portia it’s magnificent, really, it is amazing. How long did it take you to make it?” “I have been working on it for three market intervals Marcus. The hide had to be tanned and then the wool cleaned then cut and sewn into a blanket. Do you like it Marcus?” “Oh yes, yes I do, I’m speechless. It is a most wondrous gift.” “There is something else Marcus.” “What Portia, you have made me a treasured gift, what could please me more?” “This”, she said opening the blanket and spreading her arms wide. She stood naked before him. She undid the silver clasp and her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and across her breasts. Her deep violet eyes looked at him boldly, seductively and innocently all in the same glance. As she lowered her eyes her long black lashes seemed to brush her cheeks, which were now pink with passion. Her small perfect breasts, each with an exquisite pink nipple, rose and fell as her breathing quickened. He had often imagined how she would look this way, now here she was and it was no dream. Her stomach was flat and her well-defined waist was tiny curving out to generous hips, more than adequate to bear a child. “Which gift do you like the best Marcus?” “Why you Portia, definitely you; but I don’t know, on a cold winter night it could be a hard decision to make.” She gave a little giggle and said, “Oh you do so love to tease me”; then she rushed into his arms and covered his mouth with wet passionate kisses. Her body was warm and supple against him. He, she and the blanket sank into the carpet of sheep wool, soft and yielding to the weight of their bodies. They made love there, on the wool carpet, wrapped in his birthday gift. When he entered her she gave a slight cry of pain but as their passion mounted her body responded to him and his gentle touch and she surrendered to the pleasure that quickly replaced the pain. They made love, slowly, passionately and after they climaxed, at the same moment, they fell back on the blanket, blissful and satisfied beyond their imaginings. “We will have to marry soon Marcus. I want more of that.” “I was thinking exactly the same thing. I will speak to your father at the first opportunity.”

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Marcus arose early the next day and was in the kitchen helping himself to a bowl of gruel, his mother had made, when his father burst into the room, more excited than Marcus had ever seen him. “Marcus, Marcus, come quickly. I want you to see what I bought at the festival yesterday. You will love this. Come, you can eat later. Forgive my insistence, this surprise is worth it,” Severus said, as they hurried along in the direction of the stables. “Forgive you for what father?” “I purchased a horse yesterday and I didn’t have time to find you and get your approval on the animal. I had to make the decision on the spot.” “You don’t need my approval father. You are an excellent judge of horseflesh. I would be more than happy with any choice you made.” “Thank you for that confidence my son but I still want to get your opinion on my purchase.” As they arrived at the stable Severus said, “You know how I’ve been wanting to breed Athena, but I’ve been waiting for just the right stallion to mate her with? Well here he is. I’ve named him Herakles, what do you think?” As Marcus caught sight of the horse he drew in his breath, amazed at what he saw. The horse was totally black, no unusual markings of any kind, just a beautiful gleaming black coat, with a tail and mane the same gleaming color. His massive haunches and chest rippled with powerful muscles and his erect stance with his head held high would have been a model for any horse. “Father he is magnificent. It’s like looking at the blackest night standing on four legs”, Marcus said, as he walked around the horse softly running his hands over the shiny coat. As always, the horse calmed immediately at Marcus’ touch. “He is huge father. He’s over eighteen hands high. His shoulders are massive, his legs are especially powerful; he is built to carry a soldier to war, father!” “I know, I was thinking the same thing. Can you imagine the foals he and Athena will produce? I get giddy just thinking about it. You won’t believe what I paid for him. His former owner need money badly and just stated his price, no haggling. I bought him for three silver denarius.” Marcus again drew in his breath and said, “Father that is truly a bargain price for this animal. It appears that you have done very well without me. Maybe I should turn up missing more often.” Father and son laughed heartily. After getting their new purchase settled the two men headed back to the house to finish their interrupted breakfast. “By the way father, I too have some exciting news.” “What is it son. It will have to be very unusual to top what I just showed you.” “You be the judge father. Portia and I will be getting married as soon as we can arrange it, probably around the middle of November.” “Oh Marcus that is much greater news than Herakles. We must tell your mother as soon as possible. She will be so pleased. We love Portia and I know her parents think very highly of you.” “Apullia come quickly and hear the fantastic news.” “What is it Severus?” she said, hurrying into the atrium, wiping her hands on her apron. “Marcus and Portia are getting married in two months. What do you think of that?” She let out a little scream of delight and ran to hug her youngest son.

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“I am so happy Marcus. Portia is such a wonderful girl, she will be a special addition to our family.” Before he could turn around, Marcus could sense a heightened level of excitement in his father.” What is it father, what has you all worked up again?” “I have it Marcus. It came to me like a bolt of lightning. I have the perfect wedding gift for you and your new bride. Here it is! You and Portia want to be in business, as I am, breeding horses, correct?” “Yes, we have spoken of it often. It is our dream.” “Your dream has come true Marcus. I will give you some land, in the southeast corner of the farm. You can build a house there with corrals and a barn. It will be a wedding gift from your mother and me.” “Oh father I don’t know?” “Wait there is more. To help you get started properly, I will give you Herakles and Athena. You can begin your herd with the finest horses in the valley. What do you say to that?” Marcus couldn’t say anything; he was awe struck with the enormity of such a gift. Finally he said, “Father, I must go tell Portia right away. She will be thrilled beyond words.” He hugged both his parents thanked them maybe a hundred and one times, kissed them and ran to the stables, collected a fast horse and rode off, with all the speed he could muster, to tell the woman he loved about their unbelievably good fortune. Marcus and Portia planned their ranch together. His knowledge of horses and her innate common sense merged into a very practical union of ideas. Even Severus, looking at the burgeoning plan agreed, it would work very well. The young couple had come up with ideas that were novel, even to him. “I will have to modify my farm to incorporate some of your ideas Marcus. You two will enjoy success in your venture, I’m sure of it!” They were married on the Nones of November, just after the autumn harvest. People came from far and wide to attend the wedding. Both families had lived in the valley a long time and both families had many friends and relatives, throughout the valley. The couple received many monetary gifts, helping defray the cost of the construction Marcus had already begun. The labor came from Marcus and Portia’s own hands. They labored sun-up to sun-down. Often working by torch light to complete a task. They had plenty of expert guidance to help with questions about construction and his brothers and sister were often seen working around the site. The couple stayed with the Carbus family while the new house was being prepared. Construction progressed so rapidly; they were able to move into their new home before the winter months put a hold on construction. Not every thing was complete but it was enough to provide shelter and warmth for the winter with only incidentals to be completed. It was a proud moment when, with the two families watching, Marcus carried Portia over the threshold of their own new home. Their lovemaking that night, on their special sheepskin blanket, was very special. They couldn’t get enough of each other. When one’s passion waned, the other would rekindle it. As the sun broke over their new homestead, they were asleep in each other’s arms. They slept until midday and upon

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awakening looked into each other’s eyes and voiced that the previous night would be a memory, neither would ever forget. Their venture did prosper, from the out-set. The first order of business was to finish the details of the house, build a barn and erect several corrals. He again received much help from his father and his siblings. They seemed to enjoy helping Marcus achieve his goals. In less than five market intervals the new horse farm was in its infancy but functioning. In early May, Marcus and Portia decided to go on a combined honeymoon and horse-buying excursion to Cremona. They decided to ride Athena and Herakles to give the horses exercise and allow them to get to know each other better. The plan was to make a strong effort to mate the pair when they returned from their trip. Marcus and Portia made love every night. Some times they stayed at an inn, when one was available and there was proper stable for the horses. Some nights they camped under the stars when the weather was good and there was forage. Wherever they slept it was always with their special sheepskin blanket, either on it or wrapped in it. It was a part of them and a special part of their love for one another. Cremona was a lovely city, located in Italian Gaul, close to the Via Aemilia and built high on cliffs overlooking the Padus River. They enjoyed the inns and shops that Portia loved to browse through. She never bought anything even though Marcus urged her to do so. She would always say, “It is just as much fun to look Marcus.” Marcus purchased three horses, two brood mares and a stallion. Portia watched closely as Marcus selected the animals, all from one breeder. “I like this man’s stock. His animals are very healthy looking and I can’t find anything wrong with any of them. There are fifty in his herd.” After Marcus made his selections, the haggling began in earnest, with Portia also contributing to the endeavor. The breeder and Marcus ultimately agreed on a price, that pleased them both, the purchase was made and Marcus and Portia took their purchases and headed back for their farm. When they arrived home the first thing Marcus did was to ask his father’s opinion of the purchases he had made. Severus did as Marcus asked and went through a routine very similar to the one Marcus had exercised in Cremona. After grunting, scratching his chin and talking to himself, for much of the time he spent inspecting the horses, Severus finally announced, “In my opinion Marcus, you did very well selecting these horses. They are very fine animals. How much did you pay for them?” Marcus looked at Portia then turned to his father, and said, “I paid four silver denarius father. Do you think I overpaid?” “What, no, no, just the opposite my son. I think you got the bargain of all time and I also think I should let you do all my haggling from now on.” “Oh father, it means a great deal to me to hear you say that. Thank you, it is high praise indeed.” It wasn’t long before one of the new brood mares was pregnant. Marcus kept Herakles and Athena pastured by themselves, but, as yet, there was no evidence of Athena being with foal. The weather had turned warm and very summer like. Marcus had borrowed one of his father’s horses and had spent most of the morning looking at some land in the northern corner of his parcel. He knew, as his herd grew, he would need to plant more

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hayfield and that there were trees he would need to cut down and stumps that would have to be removed to clear an area. After several hours, his inspection task finished, he decided to head home and enjoy lunch with Portia. When he arrived at home she greeted him at the door. She had been baking and wore an apron with flour smeared over it, along with some other stains he couldn’t recognize. She also had some flour on the end of her nose, which caused Marcus to laugh. “What’s so funny,” she asked? “You my little filly, he said, and as he gathered her up in his arms a great warmth filled his heart and he realized how much he loved her. He showed her the spot of flour on her nose and they both laughed. “I love you Portia, I always will.” She paused looked deeply into his eyes, savoring the moment then she pressed her body against him, and found his mouth with hers in a long, wet, passionate kiss. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom. She stood enraptured, shivering at his touch, while he removed her clothes. He was now fully aroused. She assisted him as he removed his clothing, kissing various parts of his body as she did so. He went to the chest at the foot of the bed and removed the sheepskin blanket, placed it on the bed and they made slow languorous love upon it. Each explored the other’s body, in the most intimate of ways, then they coupled together in the oneness that only two people in love can know. Their satisfaction was complete. He, waiting for her to arrive at her rapture, at precisely the same moment as his. After, as they lay side-by-side caressing she said, “It is so perfect, I wish it could stay this way forever.” “It will my love, it will.” “Marcus, there is something I want to tell you and I was waiting for the right moment.” “What is it Portia, what do you want to tell me?” “Well, you know how we took a trip to Cremona and we always made a point to lay on our sheepskin blanket whenever we made love?” “Yes Portia I know.” “Well I think we might have gotten ourselves a little foal as a result of all those times we shared on our blanket.” “Portia, you don’t mean?” He never finished the statement. He leapt out of bed as it struck him and he knelt before her. “You mean we are going to have a baby?” “Yes,” she said, as she nodded her head, beaming with happiness. “Portia, my little filly, I couldn’t be happier. When is the baby due?” “Late Sextilis or Septembris I think. I have not been to a physician in Mitulum yet but I think my guess is close.” “Portia my love, our families will be so pleased. I can’t wait to tell them, especially my mother. She has been talking about a grandchild ever since we married.” Things were going well in the Carbus household. Another brood mare, Diana, had been quickened by the stallion they had named Apollo, but as yet no evidence of the same for Athena. “Maybe they don’t like each other Marcus,” Portia said, with a twinkle in her eye. “Perhaps we should let them watch our lovemaking to give them a hint about what to do!”

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“Who is being the tease now, my little filly,” he said laughing, and then going over to tickle her and make her laugh. After the laughter subsided, and on a more serious note Marcus said, “I will have a look at both of them tomorrow. Maybe there is a very good reason why they don’t mate, we’ll see.” Marcus corralled both horses in separate enclosures and took a look at Athena first. He checked her teeth, gums, tongue, rectal area, creases between leg and barrel, anyplace where evidence of an affliction might lay concealed. He also smelled her breath and inspected and sniffed her droppings for any evidence of disease. Portia was with him for the entire inspection, which took some time. Marcus finally stepped back, scratched his head and said, “She seems fine. I can’t find anything wrong with her. Let’s take a look at Herakles.” That process was a little more difficult. The horse was skittish and Marcus had to apply his calming technique twice to complete the examination. When he was finished he turned to Portia with a grave look on his face. “Marcus, what is it, there is something wrong, isn’t there?” “We have a very sick horse on our hands Portia. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with him but he has a swollen tongue, a discharge of fluid from his nostrils and a series of lumps behind his left leg. I want my father to look at him, right away. Give him some water and fresh hay for now and keep Athena away from him. Put her into the barn for now and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” After Severus had examined the big horse he looked at Marcus with pity and concern written all over his face. “I’m so sorry Marcus. I have never seen this condition before. It is definitely a cause for concern. I am also concerned that I may be the one responsible for bringing this curse on to your farm.” “It isn’t your fault father, this malady could have come from anywhere. It is the will of the Gods after all.” “We can try some remedies I have used over the years and see if they help; but now you must clean all the stalls, burn the hay in them and scrub them down with lye soap. Everything must be cleansed, walls, floors, tack anything that touched that horse. I have seen it before. A disease in one horse will spread to the others, very quickly. Hurry now do as I said son. I will get what medicines I think may work and administer them.” All that Severus had said, was done. Marcus, Portia, his brothers and sister worked through the night to accomplish the task. By first light the tiny army was exhausted, but what could be done had been done. “Now we wait,” Severus said. The next day Herakles lay down in his stall and seemed much worse. “He isn’t responding to the medicine Marcus. I don’t know what else I can do.” One more day went by and the big stallion had not improved. As Marcus was tending to him, where he lay, Portia came running into the stable with tears streaming down her face. “Marcus, Marcus, come quick Athena has the same sickness.” As soon as he saw the mare he knew. Athena exhibited the same symptoms Herakles had. Marcus put his face in his hands and cried. “I, I, don’t know what to do Portia. I feel helpless in my ignorance. I can’t just stand by and let them die. It’s too bad that herbalist we met at the festival isn’t here, maybe he could give us something to try.” Suddenly Marcus lurched backward as though he’d been struck. “Portia, that’s it, I know it in my heart. I must find that old herbalist. He

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said there was a man in his village that treated animals. He may have an answer for us. What was his name? Toi-Pat, that’s it, I must find Toi-Pat, as quickly as I can.” “But Marcus, we don’t know where to look. He may be a hundreds of miles from here, in any direction, how will we ever find him?” “We won’t find him Portia, I will find him and soon, or we will lose our best horses. I don’t yet know how or where but I will find him, I must and I shall.” Marcus was given his father’s best horse and after gathering what emergency supplies he needed, he set out for Mitulum at a gallop. As he rode into the city he had already laid out a plan to track down Toi-Pat. While on his journey to the festival city, Marcus theorized, the man must have had pack animals to carry all his wares. Those pack animals had to stabled, fed and watered, for the duration of the three-day fair. Mitulum had only one boarding stable, that is where I will start, he thought. The stable owner and stable hands were familiar to Marcus. The Carbus stables had had dealings, regarding horses, with them many times in the past. As he rode into the yard he spotted a boy he knew and rode over to him and dismounted. “Why hello Marcus. I haven’t seen you in some time. What brings you to Mitulum today?” The boy’s name was Hepsalus, in his late teens and a little slow in his perceptions. Marcus liked the boy and had always known him to be a good lad and a hard worker. He put his hand on the boys shoulder and said, “Hepsalus, I want you to listen to me very closely. I want you to tap into your memory. What I am about to ask you could mean the life of some of my horses.” That terse statement got Hepsalus’ undivided attention, for his love of horses was also great. “You remember the festival that occurred here in Mitulum a year ago this summer? There were lots of tents and games and events going on?” “Yes Marcus I remember. Crotisus gave us each a day off to go to it. It was a great time.” “You do remember, excellent. Now my friend, I want you to really search your memory. Can you do that for me?” “Yes Marcus I will try.” “There was a certain merchant at the fair, his name was Toi-Pat, and he was sort of strange looking with a long black tunic, funny little hat and a droopy moustache. Do you remember him?” “Yes Marcus, I remember him. He had four pack mules to haul his goods. Nasty buggers they were too. One of em even tried to bite me. He had a woman with him, dressed the same as him.” “Yes, yes Hepsalus, he’s the one,” Marcus said, excitedly. “What about him Marcus?” “Do you know where he was from or where he went after he left Mitulum?” “I don’t know Marcus. I didn’t pay any attention to him when he left, he just paid his fee and left. You could ask Crotisus. You know he is a bit of a gossip. He may very well know where the man was headed.” Marcus thanked Hepsalus and hurried off to find Crotisus. He was in his office pouring over his records when Marcus burst in. “Marcus, what a pleasant surprise. How are you and how is your father?”

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“I’m sorry Crotisus, I wish I had more time to talk but I am in an extreme hurry. I need to track down one of the vendors from the festival that was here in Mitulum a year ago this summer. He was an old man with his daughter and they had four pack mules that they stabled here. He dealt in herbs and medicines and such. Do you remember him?” “Why, did he cheat you out of some money or give you a potion that didn’t work?” “No, no, nothing like that Crotisus. I have a very great need to speak with him. Do you know where he went when he left here?” “I did speak with his daughter, she paid the boarding fee for his mules. It was ten sesterces as I recall. Let’s see, it seems she mentioned something.” “What Crotisus, what did she say, try to remember, it’s very important?” “I can’t recall Marcus, I’m sorry, old age you know. The memory it just goes. Why is it so important to you?” “You own this stable Crotisus, do you like horses?” “Why yes, yes I do, I love my animals.” “Do you like to see them suffer and die?” “No, no, I wouldn’t like that at all.” “My animals are suffering and dying Crotisus. This medicine man may have information that will help me save my dying animals. That’s why I need to see him.” “I’m truly sorry Marcus, I wish I could help you but I can’t remember.” “It’s alright Crotisus. It’s not your fault. I will try to find him some other way.” Marcus thanked the old man, bid him goodbye and mounted his horse. As Marcus was riding away Crotisus came running out of his office shouting, excitedly. “Marcus, Marcus, wait, I remember. They were heading for Arretium, that’s where they were from. I looked it up on the billing document. It’s where they live, they were headed home because the festival season was over.” Marcus reined up, jumped off his horse, ran to the old man and gave him a great bear hug. “You have my deepest thanks old man, and may all the Gods bless you for the rest of your days.” Marcus quickly turned back to his horse, ran along its side, into a full gallop, vaulted into the saddle, as only he could, and headed off toward Arretium at full speed. He knew he had about sixty miles to cover to reach Arretium. He also knew he would never make the distance, without resting the horse. He gauged the distance the horse could travel, at full gallop, and then walked the horse, for several miles, to rest it. He knew if he didn’t do this, the horse would be blown and could die, right there on the trail. He did this regimen several times. He also stopped once, at a small stream, and the horse drank greedily. When he felt the horse was rested, he set off again. The horse was heavily lathered with sweat when he arrived at Arretium, in late afternoon. Marcus looked for the nearest stable. Maybe they will know where I can find Toi-Pat, he thought. Within a short time he had located a stable. “Your horse looks beat sonny,” the stable master said, with a toothless grin, as Marcus reined up in the yard. “You had better give him a rest.” “I can’t just yet. I may need him to seek out someone I am looking for.” “And who might that be, if you don’t mind my asking,” the old man inquired?

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“His name is Toi-Pat. He dresses strangely. He wears a long black tunic and a funny upside down bowl hat to match; he also has a very long moustache. He is a healer and he and his daughter deal in herbs and medicines.” “I know him to be sure. Never knew his name, I always deals with the daughter Soo Ling, but the description fits. He owns four pack mules, keeps em here. They live at the east end of town, near the Forum, with a bunch of people just like him, sort of their own little community, if you know what I mean? Take this road two hundred paces, turn left then go past the fountain, you’ll be right in the midst of them people. Then just ask somebody which house he lives in. What’s his name again?” “Toi-Pat”, Marcus said. “Yeah, just ask somebody for him.” “I’ll leave my horse here old man. Feed and water him and rub him down. I’ll give you ten sesterces if you do. Five now and five when I return.” “Done and thank you for the business,” the old man said, as Marcus hurried off. It was almost dark when he stopped a passerby and asked for the house of ToiPat. The fellow pointed to a neat looking row house directly across the street from where they were standing. Wasting no time Marcus strode up to the double wooden doors and knocked, then nervously knocked again. A middle age woman answered the door, touched her fingertips together and bowed slightly and said very politely, “May I help you young sir?” “Yes, I am looking for a man named Toi-Pat, I was told he lives here. Is he at home?” “Why yes young sir he is. Please come in and I will fetch him. May I ask your name so that I can inform my father who is calling?” “My name is Marcus Carbus. I doubt your father will remember me. It has been over a year since we met at a festival in Mitulum.” “My name is Soo Ling, I was with my father in Mitulum but I don’t remember you, however, I will summon him for you. Please take a seat and be comfortable.” Marcus took a seat on a very handsome silk brocade couch, which was, very comfortable. The rest of the furniture in the room also looked rich and comfortable. Making medicines pays well, Marcus, thought as he observed his surroundings. Just then Toi-Pat came into the room accompanied by his daughter. He took the younger mans hands in his and said, “Marcus, how good it is to see you. Have you come all the way from Mitulum to see me?” “You do remember me Toi-Pat, I didn’t think you would.” “Of course I do. You came to my pavilion in Mitulum with a very pretty young girl; I believe her name was Portia. You asked me about medicines for horses. Is that what brought you all the way from Mitulum Marcus?” Marcus was amazed at the man’s recall. “Yes Toi-Pat it’s as if you read my thoughts. That is precisely why I’m here. He then explained the entire series of recent events to a very interested Toi-Pat. “Of course you know Marcus, I am not adept at healing animals. I deal only with people, and I might add, I am not always successful in my endeavors.” “I remember what you said Toi-Pat, I also remember you said there was another healer, who did heal animals. It is that person that I seek. My father is a breeder of horses

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and has been for many years. We have tried every remedy we can think of to no effect. This is our final effort. If this fails our horses will surely die.” “The man you seek is called Equinatus. He is a healer of animals. I have heard he treats horses as well. Come, let me get a shawl to ward off the chill night air and we will go to Equinatus’ house to see what he has to say.” By the time they arrived at the house of Equinatus he had already retired for the night. After some cursing, some bumping around from within the house and several, “Go away come back tomorrows,” a very grumpy man opened the door. “Who in Hades is rapping at my door at this hour of the night? What, why Toi-Pat, old friend, it’s you. Why didn’t you say so? I know you wouldn’t be bothering me in the middle of the night unless it was a very important matter. Come in, come in and bring your friend there. I will brew some tea for us.” “We’re sorry to bother you at this late hour Equinatus but this young man has urgent need of your advice. I shall let him tell you of his predicament.” Marcus related his story, leaving out no detail. When he finished, Equininus asked Marcus to describe the symptoms exhibited by Herakles, which Marcus did. He also informed him that Athena another horse had also shown the same symptoms. Equinatus listened intently, interrupting Marcus several times to ask questions. “I can tell you know something about horses son. How is it you’re so knowledgeable at such a young age?” “My father taught me much of what I know and I have had a kindred spirit with horses, for as long as I can remember.” “And who might your father be?” My father is Severus Carbus.” “You are the son of Severus Carbus? Why your father’s farm has the reputation for breeding the finest horses in the north of Italy. I would be honored if I could help you.” Stroking his chin he asked Marcus, “These sick horses, they mean a great deal to you, don’t they son?” “Yes sir they do. These horses are the beginning of my own horse farm, mine and my wife Portia’s. We are expecting our first child soon and the death of these animals would be a devastating set back for us.” “Very well then. I want to try to help you. You must listen to me very carefully. There is a plant that grows above the tree line, in the mountains north of here. It is not abundant but it stays green all winter under the snow and then appears again when the snow melts. Even now it bears small green pods. I once observed it being eaten by mountain goats. I picked some dried it and saved it. When a farmer approached me about some sick goats, I fed them those dried plants. Crushed and mixed with water. That remedy cured the goats. After that success I tried the remedy on a sick mule. It worked again. I have used it on and off again for years and it isn’t always successful, but it is the only thing I can think of that may help your horses. Oh, those symptoms you described, they were exactly the same as those of the mule.” Marcus looked at Toi-Pat with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “It is definitely worth a try,” Marcus said, eagerly. “I agree but you must hurry. If it snows you won’t be able to find the plants until spring. Right now it’s still available.” “I will go to get some at first light tomorrow,” Marcus said, and he said it with such determination that both men knew he would succeed in his effort, or die trying.

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Marcus Stayed the night with Toi-Pat but there was no time for sleep. He made his preparations for the next day using his friend as a resource. By predawn, Marcus had retrieved his horse, he was alert and ready to depart at the first sign of a lightened sky. Before he departed, Toi-Pat said to him, “I will prepare my drying kiln for when you return. We can dry the plants and mash them into a powder before you leave, so the medicine will be ready to administer the moment you arrive at home. Pray to your Gods and, I will pray to mine, that you are not too late. Keep faith your faith strong young Marcus,” he said to his young friend, as Marcus rode away at a fast gallop. The journey to the mountains was a matter of following well-established trails but after reaching the higher foothills the trails disappeared and the going became more arduous. Marcus’ horse had not been fully rested from the previous day’s journey and labored climbing the steep slopes. Finally, realizing the horse was slowing his progress, Marcus dismounted, tethered the horse to one of the thinning trees and set off on foot, climbing higher and higher, until the trees thinned then disappeared. The air was very cold and it began to snow. I don’t have much time, Marcus thought. He searched the lees of rocks, where Equinatus had said the plant flourished but he could see no distinct plant life. The snow was starting to collect and the wind had increased causing little drifts begin to accumulate and visibility was diminishing. Then he saw it, a clump of stems with small green leaves topped by tiny green buds, still visible in the swirling whiteness. He grabbed a handful, kissed them and stuffed them into the sack slung over his shoulder. “How much will I need,” he thought as he frantically picked and stuffed his sack, as fast as he could. His fingers were freezing, going numb. Suddenly he looked up and couldn’t see the plants anymore. The snow was too deep and he knew any further searching would be fruitless. What I have collected will have to do, he thought, as he started to make his way back down the mountain. When he arrived at the house of Toi-Pat and unloaded his gatherings, the little man immediately took them and put them into a drying kiln. “It will take some time to dry young Marcus. I know you want to be on your way but I strongly suggest you take some food and try to get some sleep. Your journey is a long one and you will need all your strength. Your horse also needs some rest.” “I will Toi-Pat, I will, I’ll just close my eyes and rest here for a moment.” It seemed like only an instant had passed when Marcus felt Toi-Pat shaking him awake. “I must have dozed off,” he said apologetically. “The leaves are ready, young Marcus, I have dried them and crushed them into a powder, all you need do is mix the powder with some water, make a thin gruel and spoon several large doses into the horses’ mouth, just as Equinatus said.” “Yes, I will do exactly as he said for both Herakles and Athena. Now I must be off. I don’t know how I can ever re-pay you for all you have done for me. Your kindness will be remembered in my heart forever. If either you or Equinatus ever need me, I will be there for you both. Do you understand?” “Yes Marcus I understand. I knew that day, you and your wife stopped at my tent, that somehow, we were destined to meet again. It was our fate and who can stand in the way of one’s fate. Be off my young friend and as before, my prayers, to my Gods ride with you.”

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Darkness had fallen as Marcus reined up and dismounted in the yard, of his farm. He could see a few lights on in the house and he could also make out a light in the barn. He went to the house first and although there was a fire smoldering in the fireplace, Portia was nowhere to be found. He headed for the barn straight away and there she was, lying next to Athena, asleep on a bed of straw. The mare lay on her side. The horse’s breathing seemed labored and her slack, swollen tongue protruded slightly from her mouth. Marcus’ tread awakened Portia and she flew into his arms and hugged him so hard it took his breath away. “Marcus, I’ve missed you so. I’m so glad you are home,” she said, still holding onto him. “I’m relieved to see Athena is still alive Portia, although, just barely it seems. How is Herakles, is he still alive?” “Yes he is still alive. His condition is the same as you see. Neither horse has taken any water and they haven’t eaten. It almost seems as though they have been holding on to life, waiting for you Marcus. Did Toi-Pat know how to help us?” she said, her voice latent with hope? “I have what I hope is a remedy Portia. It was shown to me by a healer of animals. Our friend Toi-Pat helped me to prepare it. Only the Gods know if it will work. It will be a last effort. After this I don’t know what else we can do.” Let’s try Marcus, we have to try. Tell me what I can do to help?” “Get me the biggest cooking spoon you have and a big mixing bowl, quickly now, we have little time.” Marcus half-filled a bucket with water from the well and Portia met him at Herakles’ stall. Mixing a generous portion of the precious powder, with water, Marcus made a watery gruel and spoon-fed it to both horses. He had difficulty and had to force the mixture down their throats but ultimately the job was done. “Now we wait,” he said. Portia had brought their sheepskin blanket back with her, when she had gone to fetch the bowl, now they curled up inside it, he cradling her in his arms. They both fell into an exhausted sleep. They awoke again sometime after midnight and administered a second dose of the medicine then tried to get a little more sleep. He could feel himself falling into a bottomless pit, slowly descending into blackness. He could hear Portia calling his name but twist and turn though he may, he could not see her. He opened his eyes with Portia shaking him awake. “Marcus, Marcus, come quick Herakles is standing.” They rushed to the big stallion’s stall and there he was, head drooping, but standing, nonetheless. He nickered as Marcus approached and nuzzled Marcus’ hand as he put his arms around the great horse’s neck and hugged him. “Welcome back old friend, welcome back.” There was some noise now coming from Athena’s stall. Rushing quickly over to it, they saw Athena was also standing steadily on four legs. Marcus quickly placed full buckets of fresh water and made hay available for both animals. Portia remarked, “Marcus look, they are drinking, do you think they will eat soon?” “It may take several days for them to gain the ability to take food. Right now I praise the Gods that they are standing and drinking. It is a very good sign my love, I think the crisis may have passed.” It was mid-spring in the valley. The days were growing longer and the sun shone abundantly warming the earth for its annual renewal. It seemed every living thing in the

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valley was in full bloom, including Portia. The meadows of the valley floor were covered with blankets of wild flowers and whatever else had been covered with the dried-up winter brown was now, a vibrant, varying shade of green. Athena and Herakles were completely well and seemed to like each other very much. Marcus had noticed them mating several times and knew it would only be a matter of time before Athena was impregnated. When it happened, Marcus had hurried to tell Portia. They both laughed in relief when she said, “I guess they followed our example and found out how to make a baby!” She often came over to him and placed his hand on her, now quite large, belly. “Soon my love our little foal will make his appearance I think.” Marcus loved feeling the movement of his child in her womb. It was very pleasant warmth that would begin in his fingertips and emanate over his entire body. “He is very active Portia, he wants to get out of his little stall and run free across the fields.” “I believe it will be very soon Marcus.” He knew something was wrong, that day, when she stood up, quite suddenly and her water broke. She couldn’t see the puddle gathering on the kitchen floor, but Marcus could, and it was mostly blood. He quickly guided her over to the bed and gently helped her to lie down. She seemed to be in pain and remarked, “It must be time for the baby to come Marcus. Will you go and fetch the physician?” “Yes, yes Portia, I will go right now.” Knowing she was unaware of the gravity of the situation and of his growing concern, he said, “Portia my love, listen to me very carefully. I’m going to get my mother and father to stay with you while I’m gone. Promise me you will stay still and not try to get out of bed until I return. Will you promise me,” he asked? “Yes Marcus I will stay in bed until you return but please hurry back. I want you to see our baby being born.” “I will be back before you know it, my love,” he said, kissing her and rushing out the door. He quickly saddled Herakles and sped off to his father’s house. Running into the vestibule he found his parents, who had heard him ride up and sensing something wrong, were already there, waiting for him. “I haven’t time to explain. I am riding to Mitulum to get the physician. Portia is in labor. Please go to her and watch over her. I shall return as soon as I can.” His parents, silently understanding, just from the look on his face, nodded their assent. His mother burst into tears and all Marcus could do was give her a quick kiss on the cheek and then ran out the door and vaulted onto Herakles’ back and was away in a spray of dust and pebbles. He remembered little about the trip except that Cretis, the Greek Physician was terrified of falling off the great horses’ back. On the return trip, he hung on to Marcus for dear life. Marcus did not spare Herakles and the horse was totally spent when the two men rode into the yard. They jumped off the horses’ back and rushed into the house. Cretis, immediately recognizing what was happening, shooed everyone out of the bedroom and bade them wait in the kitchen while he performed his examination of Portia. The examination took a long, long time. Portia cried out several times. Marcus’ mother and father had to restrain him from going to her.

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“Wait son, let the physician do his job. He will summon us if he needs us.” When Cretis returned to the group, Marcus knew Portia’s fate before Cretis even spoke. He sucked in breath. He felt as though he were suffocating. He wanted to scream “No” as loud as he could, but the cry lodged in his throat, halted by the white-hot dagger of grief that seemed to pierce his heart. “I have given her something to make her more comfortable Marcus. The baby was born dead. I could not stop the hemorrhaging. I tried, I packed her with sponges and gave her something to thicken the blood but some things are beyond my ability and in the hands of the Gods. This is one of those times. I am truly sorry Marcus,” he said, putting a knowing, caring hand on Marcus’ shoulder. His parents also came to hold on to him, trying to muffle their sobs. “Was it a boy or a girl,” Marcus asked Cretis? “It was a little boy Marcus,” Cretis said, a new spate of tears welling up in all their eyes. “You can go to her now, she has been asking for you.” As he approached the bed, Portia opened her eyes. She looked to be at peace. A tiny smile played across her lips and a look of total love came over her face. “Marcus, my husband, will you cover me with our special blanket, I am so cold?” He took the blanket, from its chest at the end of the bed and placed it over her, carefully tucking in the edges. “There my love, is that better?” She nodded slightly, with great effort. He knelt beside the bed as she spoke. “Marcus, I know that I will see Elysium this night. You know how much I love you and I surely know how much you love me.” “Yes Portia, I know.” “I want you to go on Marcus. I want you to realize our dream. Athena and Herakles are well now. They will produce wonderful offspring that will grace our farm and all of our hard work will bear fruit. We have had a great love, you and I, and nothing will ever change that, nothing. Promise me Marcus, you will go on without me.” “I-I promise Portia, I will try,” he said trying to stifle his sobs. Her voice now became quite serious, almost as if she were scolding him for some minor misdeed. “Marcus, you must tell me something before I commence my journey?” “Yes, yes my dearest love, what would you like to know?” “I want to know what you say to horses when you speak into their ear? I have never pried before but, before we say goodbye, I want to know, I have to know.” His heart was full to overflowing for this very special woman. “Why, I always thought you knew Portia. I tell them what I have said to you, countless times. I tell them that I love them,” he said, dropping his eyes and sobbing, for he could not bear to look at her face, in that instant. When he did find the courage to look up, it was into the sightless eyes of the woman he loved, who had died with a knowing smile on her lips. He gently closed her eyes, sweetly kissed her still warm lips, put his head to her breast and wept, and wept. His grief knew no bounds. It crashed and ebbed and then crashed again, like an angry sea unleashing its fury against a helpless, vulnerable shore. After Portia was buried, along with their child, wrapped in their sheepskin blanket, that she so loved, he mounted up on Diana and rode away, with the pleas of his family falling on ears so filled with sorrow, they heard no words. He didn’t know how long he rode. His only desire was to shun everyone and everything. Eventually, the mare came to a stop. She could go no

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further, despite the vicious kicks Marcus delivered to her sides. He dismounted in a daze, his mind’s eye framing Portia’s beautiful face and the featureless face of the child he would never know. The sun rose and set, and still he walked, leading the horse or the horse leading him, except when she paused to drink or to graze. The reins never left Marcus’ hands. When the horse was rested and refreshed he remounted and let the horse wander wherever it wanted to go. Unguided, the horse instinctively returned to its home and Marcus rode into the yard of his own farm, at sunset of the third day after Portia’s burial. As time passed, he would regress, when his sorrow became too much to bear, he would pack some supplies, mount a horse and ride off to disappear for days at a time, no one knew where. Each time, before he left on his trips to nowhere, he would stop at Portia’s gravesite, pause, hang his head, blow her a kiss and ride off, at a full gallop. Whenever he returned he looked gaunter than the time before. His beard now hung down to his chest. His eyes carried a far away look, disinterested, even other worldly. He would only respond to his brothers or his father with grunts and nods. His family made a valiant effort to run his farm for him, tending to his animals, maintaining and performing the tasks necessary to keep the farm in good working order, always hoping that he would return and want to reassume those duties, soon. The breeze carried the chill warning of winter as it gusted suddenly, flaring the campfire Marcus was staring into. In a reflex action against the chill, he gathered the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. How long had he been away this time? He couldn’t recall. The tears and sobbing, endlessly flowing from an unseen reservoir, deep within his heart, had given way to a dull ache that lay in his breast like a great weight, unmoving, unyielding. This is what grief evolves to, he thought. This is what sadness is, a pain that is not really a physical thing but just as real, as and deeper than any he had ever experienced. The wind picked up and he heard it, his name being called. It was Portia’s voice and as he stared on, she seemed to loom up out of the fire, cradling an infant in her arms. He reached out to her yearning for her touch, clutching at nothingness as the vision vanished. Suddenly the stillness of the night, and the moment was shattered. His brother Vatinidus came galloping up astride Herakles. He reined up and dismounted so suddenly, a burst of dust sprayed the campfire causing it to ignite the tiny particles in a puff of flame. “Marcus, Marcus, I have been searching for you for two days. Thank the Gods I saw your campfire from the hilltop, you must come back to the farm, something is very wrong with Athena, we don’t know what it is, she may be dying. Marcus, do you hear me, do you understand?” In frustration, at the lack of Marcus response, Vatinidus reached down, grabbed his brother under the arms and jerked him into a standing position. “You self-pitying fool, don’t you realize the matriarch of your herd may be dying? You must do something, now,” as he said this, he slapped Marcus across the face with his open hand! Marcus’ head snapped back in reaction to the blow, and his hand went to his cheek as though it wasn’t possible that his brother had struck him so hard. Suddenly, the dullness in Marcus’ eyes was replaced by a new awareness, and he said, in a perfectly rational way, “Come Vatinidus, we must tend to Athena. You can describe her condition to me, on the way home.”

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The two rode into the yard and dismounted before the stable. Marcus’ father was there and they warmly embraced, his father holding onto him, a bit longer than usual. He then held him at arms length, to briefly look at him. “It is good to see you my son, welcome home. Your mother and I have been very worried about you, are you well?” “I am all right father. I have lost some weight and I haven’t shaved for a while, but otherwise, I’m fine. Forgive me, it’s this pain in my heart, it won’t go away.” “I know son, I know, we all loved her very much, and we miss her too. She would want you to live and carry on you know, I heard her say so. Now, to the business at hand, I looked at Athena briefly, did your brother describe the symptoms to you?” “Yes father he did. I must examine her more closely to make a better determination of what is wrong.” “I tried to do that Marcus, but she wouldn’t let me near her back end. Perhaps she will allow you.” As Marcus approached the horse, Athena was lying on her right side. She raised her head slightly and whinnied when she caught Marcus’ scent. He spoke into her ear and gently stroked her long powerful neck. The horse calmed almost immediately. Her rapid, shallow breathing slowed a bit and she lay her head back down in a more relaxed manner. “I will have to do an internal examination. I have to see what condition her foal is in. Vatinidus, please bring me soap and a basin of warm water.” After this was done Marcus washed and left some of the soapy lather on his wet hands. He gently inserted his hands, into the horse’s passageway, he spoke softly to Athena, knowing his voice was a reassurance to the frightened animal. He probed the birth canal trying to feel the position of the foal. Athena stirred restlessly, grunted slightly but made no movement away from his touch. She trusts me implicitly, he thought. He felt to find the foal’s head and front legs, which would indicate a normal birth position for the foal but he could only feel the foal’s head. “I must re-position the front legs and bring them around into the birth canal, otherwise it will be a breech birth and Athena could die.” As he reached further, to accomplish this task, he felt something unexpected; so unexpected, it caused him to cry out. It was another head and set of front legs. “Father, father, come here quickly, Athena is carrying twins.” His father came running over but didn’t say anything, knowing Marcus was fully occupied. Marcus had to explore extensively to find the correct set of front legs and try to shift them. With some effort, he was able to do so. Slowly, as gently as he could, Marcus repositioned the head and front legs of the first foal into the desired position for a normal birth. Reaching further back, he verified the position of the second foal and found it to be as desired. “Marcus, you have relieved the stress of her discomfort, she has noticeably relaxed. As Marcus extracted his hands, the horse struggled to rise. It took a few tries, but she gathered her legs under her and stood up. Marcus hugged Athena’s neck and then actually kissed her. “Well girl, I guess you’re going to be all right.” There they stood, a man whose love of horses had helped pull him from the depths of his own despair. That spring, Athena gave birth to her twins. The weather had turned wet and windy, as often happened in the valleys of the Apennines, at that time of year. Marcus knowing Athena’s time was near, had taken to sleeping in the stall next to hers. During a

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violent thunderstorm, he awoke when he heard her lie down. One look, told him her time was at hand. He lit a lantern as the rain pelted the barn so hard it sounded as if pebbles were falling from the sky. My father will see the light and he’ll come, he thought. Within a short span of time Athena began the birthing process. The first foal was a female and she appeared with her tiny head tucked between her legs, and came into the world with no trouble. Marcus helped clear her from the birth sac, made doubly sure she was in no distress and moved her to one side, laying her on a soft blanket. The next foal delivery was more difficult. The head and leg position was correct but the foal would only come out so far. Marcus waited to see if Athena could push the foal out the rest of the way, but the mare seemed to be struggling with the task. He tried to wiggle the foal’s body but it seemed to be stuck fast. Suddenly Severus appeared at Marcus side, soaked to the skin, from the rain. “Here let me,” he said. He reached into the birth canal, straightened the foal’s back legs and the entire body slid easily out. It was a male and Severus remarked on his size. “Its no wonder he had trouble being born. He is almost too big for a foal.” At that moment a bolt of lightening lit up the night sky, with a clap of thunder following in close order. The foal struggled and rose to its feet on very shaky legs. “It’s not hard to pick a name for him Marcus, it has to be either Thunder or Lightening.” “I like Thunder father it seems a fitting name for one who will be great in size.” Looking at the female foal, who was also now standing, Marcus said, “I think I shall name her Aphrodite. She is as beautiful as the Goddess herself.” Father and son then hugged and congratulated each other on an event so rare it would be celebrated and recounted, all across the valley, for many years to come. A good omen everyone said. The fortunes of Marcus and Portia’s horse farm vastly improved once the word of the birth of the twin foals, Thunder and Aphrodite, spread across the region. The sire, Herakles, was especially sought after, for stud services, and Marcus discovered that the breeders wouldn’t even quibble about the fee. The farm grew by leaps and bounds. It was a period of prosperity. The mares began producing foals consistently and sales of the yearlings allowed Marcus to purchase more breeding stock. The birth of a foal became a familiar process on the Carbus farm; but unlike other breeders, who tried altering the daylight process with lamps, to bring mares into heat at convenient times, Marcus just let nature take its course. Good food, good pasture, good care and much hard work, bore the fruit he and Portia had dreamed of, the horses and nature, did the rest. The twins were almost two years old now. When he stopped to visit Portia’s gravesite, and reflected, he marveled at how quickly the time had passed. He could still hear her voice calling him to mealtime. When he was in the house, he would look up and see her standing by the hearth, stirring a pot or seated at her desk, pouring over her accounts; she would turn to smile at him and then the vision would fade, replaced by the cold reality of her absence. His father’s spread had also prospered and grown. In fact, his father was now considered, not only prosperous, but wealthy as well. This brought a dearth of suitors for the hand of his sister Lucilla. She was a lovely girl, tall and lithe with beautiful long auburn hair. Fair of face and bright in demeanor, she was a prize any man would be happy to have, not to mention her dowry, which many guessed would be very substantial.

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Marcus’ two brothers, Vatinidus and Tallatus, worked for him. It was they who had filled in for him while he was in mourning and kept the farm from faltering. They had proved to be very capable, and to reward them; Marcus had made them equal partners in the farm. As he had done with Marcus, Severus had given each son a parcel of land and each man had built a home to accommodate any future family plans. The good fortune of the Carbus family seemed at an all time high. It was no surprise when Lucilla announced that she wanted to wed. She had been keeping company with a certain young man for the better part of a year. He was the son of a wealthy magistrate from Mitulum named Lucius Gratinidus. The man’s family had made its fortune in olives. They owned and operated vast groves, on large tracts of land that had been in the family for many generations. They also owned hundreds of wagons that would transport the olives, west, overland to the port city of Luna. There, the crop would be loaded aboard ships, which the family also owned, brought by sea to Ostia and there processed into oil to be shipped to Rome, a short fifteen miles away. This business had been in operation, uninterrupted, for some fifty years, with little or no competition. Even wars, never seemed to slow the flow of oil. So, it went without saying that the Gratinidus family was wealthy beyond imagination. The wealth had also been used to grow and cultivate a Roman senator, a viable candidate for Consul of the Roman Republic, named Horatius Tullius Gratinidus. Severus and his wife, Apullia, were well pleased with the match and the entire family felt happy knowing their daughter Lucilla would be blessed to live a life of notoriety. The wedding day approached. The preparations became more frantic. The reception was to be held at the main house on the Carbus farm and Severus had been under a great deal of pressure to make sure the preparations were adequate to accommodate the large number of guests expected. It was rumored that the famous senator from Rome would also be in attendance, to see his nephew wed. Everyone pitched in to make the coming celebration a success and the day before the event, all was in readiness. What a celebration it was. The weather was perfect, warm and dry with a slight breeze. The wedding ceremony came off without a hitch. The bride was stunning in a lilac colored filmy dress coat over a pure white formfitting, floor length under dress. Her shining auburn hair was done in an upsweep and bedecked with garlands of wild flowers. Apullia wept and acknowledged that her daughter was very beautiful and very happy. When the food and wine were served under a very large tent, the senator from Rome remarked that it far surpassed anything he had ever had in the city. Severus and Apullia beamed with pride and the event was purported to be the social highlight of the season. By early evening Marcus had had more than a few cups of wine. Looking at his sister, and seeing how happy and radiant she was reminded him of his own wedding and how beautiful Portia had looked on that day and how very much he missed her. Not wanting to cast any ill light on his sister’s shinning moment, he decided to take a walk to Portia’s gravesite and spend a moment with his beloved. As he passed the stable, he heard the unmistakable cries of a horse in distress. He had heard it before, the anguish of an animal in pain. He ran toward the barn. The noises were mixed now. A crack of a whip, a squeal of pain and terror, the thud of a large body crashing against a wooden stall, trying to get away from its tormentor.

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Marcus burst into the stable and saw the one responsible for the havoc. The man had a whip raised to strike again. The back of the unfortunate horse was already flayed and bleeding. “I’ll teach you to step on my foot, you good for nothing pile of horse shit,” the man said, a look of pure hatred in his black eyes. Before the whip could descend one more time, Marcus was on him, hitting him with such a strong running force, both men tumbled over, squirming and thrashing on the straw covered dirt floor. Marcus sprang up quickly, his opponent a little less quickly. He was a brute of a man. A trifle taller than Marcus, heavily muscled through the shoulders and arms, which were covered with thick black hair. His eyebrows met in one line across his forehead. His black eyes and full beard gave him a fierce look. The hate in his eyes was now fully directed at Marcus. “Ho, what have we here? It looks like another horse’s ass coming to defend a stupid animal from getting what it deserves. Now I think I will give you a taste of my whip also you do-gooder.” Marcus quickly discovered that the man knew how to use the whip. With no more than a flick of the wrist, he opened a gash under Marcus’ right eye. The blood began to flow down Marcus’ cheek. Again the man flicked his wrist and another gash appeared on Marcus throat. Realizing he had no other alternative, Marcus rushed the huge man and flung himself, arms flailing, into the man’s body. It was too late. The maneuver by Marcus was exactly what the man wanted him to do. In the blink of an eye, he spun Marcus around, encircled him with those great arms and held the handle of the whip hard against Marcus’ throat. “Now animal lover, I am going to kill you. I could have killed you with the whip but it would have taken much longer. This way will be quicker,” he said, pressing the whip handle more tightly against Marcus throat. “You will die with the name Burgundus as the last thing you will ever hear.” Marcus could feel the strength ebbing from his body as he tried to draw breath but could not. With his vision beginning to go dark, Marcus summoned all of the strength he could muster and using his legs, he drove his attacker backward into a stall support. The instant he felt the collision the pressure on his throat lessened. He grabbed two handfuls of the man’s garment and pulled with all his strength, while leaning rapidly forward bringing his head almost between his own knees. The momentum created, caused the huge man to go careening over Marcus’ head. He landed with a sickening crunch. Burgundus lay unmoving, his head at an odd angle. Marcus felt for a heartbeat but there was none. Could I have killed this great brute of a man, he thought? The irony of the Gods is beyond understanding. His great size caused his death. Marcus stood up and felt the panic start to seep into his mind. I must conceal the body until I decide what to do. He dragged the huge man to the end stall, pushed him to a far corner and taking a pitchfork, covered him with a layer of hay. He stripped down to the waist and washed his face and upper body with water from a nearby horse trough. He rinsed until the water seemed to be clear of any blood. He shook his tunic vigorously to remove any dirt and dust and plucked off the stray particles of hay. Holding it up, he decided it was presentable enough to pass any but the closest inspection and put it back on. I must appear as casual as possible or even appear a little drunk, he thought.

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Entering the house, where the festivities were in full swing, Marcus scanned the room trying to spot his father. He smiled and nodded as he moved through the crowd, even speaking to several well-wishers, he even staggered a bit so as not to seem out of place at a party where the wine was flowing freely. In his mind, he was thinking, the entire world must be able to read the guilt and confusion on my face. He spotted his father near the kitchen giving some instructions to a steward. He caught his father’s eye and gave him a pleading look. His father immediately knew something was amiss and made his way toward Marcus smiling and chatting so as not to convey any sense of alarm. As they met Marcus said, “Father, I must speak with you privately, it is urgent.” “Of course Marcus, come, we will go to my study it’s away from all this noise. We can talk there.” As inconspicuously as possible, the two threaded their way through the throng of people. It seemed everyone wanted one of them for something but eventually they arrived at the door, opened it and quickly slipped inside. Severus closed and bolted the door. “What is it son? I only need look at you to know something is very wrong. What has happened?” It all came out in an unintelligible rush of words. Marcus needed to unburden his mind and did not pause for clarity. “I killed him father. It was self-defense. He was trying to kill me. I had to do something. I didn’t intend to kill him. His death was an accident. What should I do father?” “Marcus wait, wait, calm down. Take a deep breath.” Marcus did as his father asked and did calm a bit. “Now, very slowly, tell me exactly what happened.” Marcus again recounted the violence in the barn. “Where is the man now, where is the body?” Severus said. “He is in the barn father, the last stall on the right, under a pile of hay.” “Are you all right?” “Yes, just some bruises on my neck and some cuts on my face.” “What did the man look like?” Marcus described the man with as much detail as he could remember. As he did, he noticed a look of awareness cross his father’s face. Severus let Marcus conclude his description and said, “There is much more to this Marcus. Let me make some discrete inquires and I will return here as soon as I can. Lock the door and admit no one but me.” Returning sometime later Severus said to his son, “My fears were well founded Marcus. This groom was the freeman of a Roman senator who is here at the celebration. His name is Gratinidus and he will stand for Consul next year and it is rumored that he will win. Also, and more importantly, he and the man you killed were lovers!” Marcus’ heart sank in his breast. He realized this was the worst possible news, in light of the situation. “What am I to do father? I have no witness to what occurred. It is only my word against the evidence of a dead man. His lover is a man of power and influence. No doubt he will want to exact retribution or vengeance of some sort. How can I plead my case when a rich and powerful man is my adversary? I will most assuredly wind up in prison and possibly be hanged for murder.” “Let me think Marcus.” Severus paused a moment to think. “I believe this senator from Rome is the brother of your sister’s new father-in-law. The father-in-law’s name is

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Placidus. I know him from his reputation as a magistrate in Mitulum. I have heard he is very strict in his rulings and I also have heard he has had many men crucified. This does not bode well for us. He may be a greater threat to you than the senator. The festivities are starting to wind down, I’m sure it won’t be long before the senator will be looking for his groom to return him to Mitulum. Marcus, it pains me to say this but I believe your only alternative is to flee and flee now!” “Father, this is my home. All I have worked for, everything I have is here, my Portia is here. Where would I go, what would I do? Surely my sister’s new husband could wield some influence over his own father?” Severus could see the anguish in his son’s eyes and his heart ached for him. “Placidus holds his son in disdain Marcus. He is only here to keep up appearances and to bask in the aura that, his brother, the senator casts. The son carries no weight with the father. Marcus I love you and I hear what you say, but my gut feeling is that you would not go unpunished in this situation. These are powerful men you would be dealing with. A coincidental relationship by marriage wouldn’t matter in the least. You could try trusting in the legal system, but without witnesses, you could mount no true defense.” Marcus hung his head in resignation, knowing his father’s reasoning was sound. After a time he rose, went to his father and gave him a warm embrace. “You are right father, I must go, and I really have no other choice. I will miss all of you to the depths of my heart. I have decided that I will flee and I will take Thunder and Aphrodite with me. I will go to Ravenna. There is a military base there. I will join the legions and be swallowed up in the vastness of that body of men, I will become anonymous. Father will you make my goodbyes for me. I could not bear to look in the faces of my family. Tell them that I love them and may one day see them again, if not here then certainly in the next life, in Elysium. Will you tell them father, for me?” ”I will tell them my son. You know you are loved and you will be missed and never forgotten. You have been a dutiful son to us, your mother and I and you have also been a wonderful brother to your siblings. Any man would be proud to call you son or brother. Go now and be safe and may the Gods ride with you when you seek your destiny.” Marcus moved reluctantly toward the office door and un-bolted it. Opening it he looked back at his father and suddenly noticed how much older his father suddenly seemed. He paused, once more and again looked back at his father and mouthed the words, “I love you,” then closed the door behind him. He never saw his father weep, and he never looked back as he rode away from house and farm where he was born and raised.

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Chapter IX Caesar The Tenth legion camp was buzzing. There was to be an assembly of the entire army, including all non-combatants, an assembly of over forty thousand men. Awards for bravery were to be presented and a celebratory feast, for the victory over the Arverni, was to immediately follow the ceremony. Dardanus told Claudius that Caesar was especially fond of presenting awards. It boosted morale and generated willingness for the men to compete for them. A medal recipient was also assured an extra share of campaign booty, if there was any. “Did you ever earn any booty, above your regular army pay Dardanus,” Claudius asked? “Yes I did my boy, once in da campaign against Mithradates and once in a campaign against the Spaniards. Sulla was the general in the first one and he made sure us rankers got a good share of the spoils. The one in Spain was generaled by Pompey. He kept most of the booty for himself so us common soldiers didn’t get much from that one. Tomorrow will be a good day for you Claudius. I hear tell you will be getting a medal. How do you feel about that?” “I have mixed feelings about it Dardanus. I’m not really a hero; all I did was do my best to stay alive.” “Well my boy, if I was you, I would bask in the fame for a while. It will be forgotten soon enough. Anyway, we are going to get a good feed out of it, and that’s a good thing, eh?” The awards ceremony commenced at the fifth hour. A small dais, raised by several steps, was put in place. It was spacious enough to hold all officers of tribune rank and above, and all of the award recipients. The standards and marching pennants, for each legion were in place at the left and right of the dais, with a cohort of cavalry to round out the formation. The four legions were drawn up to face the dais in rank after rank. Claudius viewed the magnificent array from his elevated place on the dais. The rearmost ranks, included all of the non-combatants who took no part in the battle; but each and every man knew how these men, who toiled away from the action, were just as important to their success as any other facet of this armed force. The army was drawn to attention, set at ease and Caesar himself came forward to speak. His voice was strong and seemed to carry a great distance but as always, there were heralds, to relay the speaker’s word to the most distant man. “Soldiers of Rome, today we honor our brave comrades in arms, especially those that cannot be with us. Their valor is an example for us all and testifies to what we may become when fate calls us to stand and be counted. Show them honor and respect for they have earned it.” A thundering cheer arose from the assembled army, sending an emotional chill through Claudius. Caesar introduced the commander of each legion, who were to present the awards, to each soldier under his command. A total of eleven recipients, from the four legions, received their awards. Claudius was to be the last man honored and when Titus Labienus, legate in command of the Tenth Legion, called him forward to accept his award, of a silver Phalera, the loudest cheer of all erupted from the throats of the assembled throng. It reverberated across the plain where the army stood, and continued for some time.

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When the cheering died down Labienus recanted the events of the day at the “great tree” with the army again voicing a loud long cheer. The assemblage was dismissed and the preparations for the feast were began. Up on the dais, long tables were set for Caesar, officers and honorees. It was a splendid spread, considering the rough circumstances and lack of a variety of food to choose from. Septimus had alerted Claudius that when Caesar was involved in a ceremony, the food would be exceptional and he was right. There was an abundance of breads, cheeses, and some fruits. Mostly what had a long shelf life and could be easily prepared in a field kitchen. Archers had been dispatched to hunt and they had returned with venison, wild boar, and several varieties of waterfowl. There was also well-watered wine, in abundance. Claudius greatly enjoyed the food and ate his fill, not knowing when, such a sumptuous meal would again be in the offing. The rank and file fare was simple, and served into each soldier’s mess kit bowl. The variety was limited to a thick gruel with meat and vegetables and loaves of fresh bread. Any soldier could return for a refill as often as he liked and eat as much as he wanted. Once all the dignitaries had eaten, Caesar arose and worked his way among those seated at the head table, stopping at the seat of each honoree and personally congratulating him and looking at his individual award. The magnetism of the man was immediately apparent and he seemed at ease addressing both officer and enlisted man alike. When he got to Claudius, again approaching him last, he put his hand on Claudius’ shoulder. “You are the hero of the battle Claudius. The young ones will look to you now, for an example. I know you will be worthy of that honor. Also, if you agree, I would like you to come to the command tent at noon tomorrow. There is a topic I would like to discuss with you. If your duty requirements interfere in some way, see Septimus. I have made him aware of our proposed meeting and he will see to any obstacles that may arise.” Caesar pretended not to notice Claudius’ jaw agape and continued on, “Well, can I count on you to be there?” “Why-why of course sir, I will I will be there at the appointed time, per your request.” “Excellent,” Caesar said. Claudius was about to ask why Caesar wanted to see him, but Caesar raised his hand slightly for effect. “All of your questions will be addressed tomorrow Claudius and I believe you will find the meeting quite interesting. Now if you will excuse me I have very important matters I must attend to.” Caesar then took leave of the festivities, made his way to his waiting horse Toes, mounted and trotted off with his personal escort of four mounted legionnaires. Shortly after Caesar left all the honorees returned to their respective units, the army was called to attention and dismissed for the remainder of the day. The men of the four legions walked casually back to their billets and talked and joked as they strolled along, well fed and content.

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Many stopped to shake Claudius’ hand and get a look at his silver medal, a look of admiration in their eyes. Claudius now knew what Caesar had meant. He had become a role model. Well, I will try not to disappoint them, he thought. Two hours before noon, on the following day, Septimus sought out Claudius to give him a final briefing prior to the approaching meeting with Caesar. Claudius was in a highly excitable state, which Septimus sensed as soon as he saw him. “Be calm Claudius, I assure you there is nothing to be nervous about. Caesar is quite cordial and down to earth. He is a no nonsense commander and he puts forth no undue airs when he is in the field. He no doubt acts differently when in Rome but out here, among the barbarians, he is much like you and I. I am curious though Claudius. When Caesar requested your presence did it sound like an order?” “No Septimus it sounded more like a request. I felt as though I could have declined and Caesar wouldn’t have objected. What does he want to see me about Septimus, do you have any idea?” “I don’t have an inkling Claudius. His orderly contacted me before dawn, to tell me of the meeting and to have me clear you from duty. That’s all I know. The orderly followed the usual chain of command protocol; he gave me this wax tablet with Caesar’s seal and said for you to show it to the duty sentry. He also said emphatically, “Don’t be late!” Claudius and Septimus exchanged a look and a small laugh at even the slightest prospect of Claudius being late. “How should I prepare Septimus?” “Just wear your issue tunic with all of your issue leather, no armor. Also wear your helmet and bring your sword, oh and be clean-shaven and washed. Caesar likes clean. When you enter the command tent, stand at attention, salute then remove your helmet, and wait for his response.” “That’s it, that’s all I do?” “Yes, he may keep you waiting a bit but be patient, he will respond.” The two hours dragged by and finally it was time to report. Claudius approached the command tent, the two fully armed sentries, at either side of the tent’s entrance, snapped to attention. The tent was a huge affair made of a heavy gage red canvas that could be furled up or down. Caesar must have all the amenities he needs with a tent this size, Claudius thought. Claudius presented his wax tablet to the man on his right, stepped back, saluted and waited. The sentry took the tablet, brushed back the flap and disappeared inside the tent. He reappeared a moment later and said, “You have permission to enter sir,” giving Claudius a wink and a nod. Claudius entered and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. He saluted, removed his helmet, then stood at attention and waited, just as Septimus had advised. Caesar was seated at a large tabletop piled high with maps, blank wax tablets and dozens of scrolls. No surface of the desk was visible due to the amount of material on its top. Caesar continued to be absorbed in what he was doing and did not immediately look up. There was no one else in the tent. Eventually, Caesar looked up. He rose, returned the salute and said, “Ah, Claudius Varinus, welcome. I have been looking forward to your visit. Please be at ease. Pull up one of those chairs and pour yourself a cup of wine. Claudius declined the wine

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but did pick up a camp chair and set it down, along with himself, across the desk from Caesar. “You are quite famous you know! The entire army is talking about your exploits on the battlefield. Even the Arverni have branded you with a name. Our spies tell us they are calling you the ‘Tree Warrior’. The leader you slew was a clan chieftain and was considered one of their greatest warriors. You, and our troops, have gained much respect from our enemies as a result of his death and your actions against so many who tried to kill you.” Claudius just nodded at Caesar’s comment but didn’t say anything. He didn’t relate to Caesar how earlier that morning he had borrowed a horse and ridden out on the plain to gaze at the giant hollowed-out tree trunk, to relive the carnage that had happened there. He didn’t tell Caesar how he still heard the cries of those he had harmed or felt the chill wind, of the voices, of the loved ones who would never see their father, brother or son again. They were men, just like himself, fighting to keep an invader from taking their lands and sending their people into slavery, just as he would die to prevent those same events from happening in him. He didn’t tell Caesar how he shuddered and wept for those past events. “Where are you from Claudius?” “I was born in Brundisium, do you know the city sir?” “Please, call me Caesar, sir makes me feel much older than I am. Yes, I have been to Brundisium, but only as a port of arrival or departure. I have never spent time there to really get to know the city well. Do you have siblings Claudius?” “No Caesar, I am an only child. My father worked at one of the shipyards in Brundisium and my mother was a housewife. We lived in the city, not far from the shipyard. I also worked at the yard for a time before I decided to join the legions.” “You speak as though you have been educated, were you? “Yes Caesar. I can read and write well. My mother was my teacher for much of my learning. She could also read and write Greek and she schooled me in many of the classics from the Greeks. I was particularly fascinated by the Trojan war and its heroes.” “I am a direct descendant of Aeneas a hero of that war,” Caesar said. “So I have heard,” replied Claudius. “The Julii is one of the oldest and most revered of Roman families. It is fitting for you to be consul and commander of her armies.” “Well said Claudius,” Caesar replied, with a large beaming smile. “I know how the battle went Claudius, the evidence is in the number of enemy soldiers you took out of action. What I don’t know is how you felt after your brave stand at the great tree. In other words, when you were rested and recovered from your wounds and you reflected on the experience, what were your thoughts about it?” Claudius did think for a brief moment before he responded, then replied, “I was repulsed and horrified by the experience Caesar.” “Ah, an honest answer at last. Most men would just thump their chest afterward, if they were you. You are much more sensitive than that. Go ahead Claudius, bare your heart. I could see, by your discomfort that you needed to unburden yourself. I assure you, this will be a private conversation, please, go on.” “I am sickened that I was personally responsible for the loss of so many lives Caesar. Who were the unknown that would know grief over what I did that day? Yes,

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they were enemy soldiers but they were fine soldiers, willing to die for their cause, and they were also men and a few not even old enough to be called a man yet, and I slew them, hewed them down like so much wheat, or I maimed them with only a thought for my own life, not theirs. They were only defending their homeland, nothing more. They were there because we were there and they died not I,” Claudius said, saddened by the recollection. “I knew it,” Caesar said. “I felt exactly the same way after my first major engagement, age twenty one, at a battle on the island of Lesbos. Many died and I was lauded a hero, and awarded the Civic Crown yet the real heroes were dead and no one lauded their bravery. Septimus saved my life that day. He raised me up after I had gone down and I surely would have stayed down if not for him. We were able to rally the men and able to turn the tide of the battle. I, as you, only tried to survive and suffered the same kind of remorse, after my experience. I have never spoken of it to anyone until now.” Claudius reflected on what Caesar had just said, at that moment and knew that, in their honesty, each had just established a bond of trust, in the other. “Before you pass judgment on yourself Claudius, consider this. Your remorse or guilt, or whatever you want to call it, proves that you are human, not an animal. Your feelings are normal, they are like prickly burrs lodged in your self-awareness; but never forget, the Goddess Fortuna could have selected you to be lying in the dust. I would also like to add this thought before we get to the reason I wanted to see you today. The conquered look at Rome only as the conqueror. There is another name for us and it is the one I prefer to use. The word is benefactor. Yes, that’s right, benefactor. How does killing someone and taking over their lands benefit him or her, you may ask? The answer lies not in the present, it lies in the future. Lands, and nations, that have been subdued by Rome have ultimately prospered. Roman laws, commerce, government, language, culture art, all of these things came from Roman conquest and the descendants of the conquered are the beneficiaries. You may also ask, are not the ways of conquered people as good as Roman ways? The answer is a very simple and emphatic, no! Rome is the greatest nation in the world and she has become great through conquest and imposing her will upon those she subjugates. We have tried negotiation, but our envoys are murdered and they send their heads back to us in baskets. These Gauls are a proud people and they are warlike. The only language they seem to understand is war. All of their disputes are settled by war. If we were not here they would be fighting each other. I won’t try to mislead you. We are here to conquer and expand Rome’s influence into this territory. We want to recreate Rome throughout the land of the Gauls.” Claudius had absorbed Caesar’s narrative and admired his candor but remained silent for the moment, then Caesar said, “I don’t expect you to agree with all that I have said Claudius, but consider it, and perhaps we can discuss more of our views at another time. I want to take the time we have left to set forth my proposal. You have probably guessed, by now, that I didn’t summon you just to discuss your heroism”. “I suspected as much Caesar. Its not every day a common ranker, such as myself, is given audience with a Consul of Rome and the commander of a Roman army.” “As I suspected Claudius, you can think as well as fight, that makes what I am about to tell you even more interesting. I have been toying with an idea for some time. It

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would be very unusual for the Roman army to adopt the strategy, that I am going to propose, but, it is my army to do with as I will, isn’t it?” “Yes Caesar, it is your right.” “Here it is Claudius, listen carefully and hold any questions until I finish the thought. I want to form an elite strike force. Not to great a force but one large enough to be able to affect the outcome of a battle, if applied at the right place, at precisely the right time. This force would have to consist of a group of select individuals, with extraordinary combat skills, highly trained, with a variety of weapons, but especially adept with the sword. This is where you come into the plan. I would like you to form, train and lead such a force.” Caesar paused and leaned back in his chair to look at Claudius, to gauge his reaction. Claudius remained outwardly passive but inside his mind was bursting with a myriad of questions. Caesar continued, “I realize this is not a decision one would normally make on the spur of the moment, but for now, I only ask that you consider it. Your skill with the sword is quite obvious but there is still one question, can you teach a contingent of legionnaires to handle the sword nearly as well as you do?” This time Claudius was ready with an answer. “I’m not sure Caesar. I know what kind of student I am. What I don’t know is whether or not I can be a teacher.” “Are you willing to try?” Again pausing for what seemed like an eternity but was really only a brief interlude, Claudius made up his mind and answered with a firm, “Yes Caesar, if you wish it, I will give the task a try.” “Excellent- excellent,” Caesar said, coming around the desk to grasp Claudius’ hand. “Now, you must be full of questions but hold them in abeyance for now. Return in four days time with some ideas on any particulars you can think of. We can iron out all the details then. By the way, this mission carries some merit with it. You will be promoted to the rank of Centurion.” Claudius could no longer control his emotions and he broke into a broad smile. Caesar also smiled and both men laughed as they again shook hands heartily. As Claudius moved to leave the command tent, Caesar bade him to wait. “I have been admiring your sword Claudius. I noticed it the moment you walked into the tent. May I take a closer look at it?” “Of course Caesar,” Claudius said, drawing the blade from its sheath and handing it hilt first to Caesar. “Ah, what a fine weapon. It has superb balance and the weight of a feather. A man could fight with this all day and never tire. I would equip my entire army with such a weapon. Where on earth did you get it?” “You have said it Caesar.” “I don’t understand Claudius, what do you mean?” “The metal, the metal for the weapon, it is not of this earth. The metal fell from the sky. No one, not even the sword smith who made it, knew where the metal came from.” Claudius then related the story of the sword’s construction and inscription and about receiving it as a gift for rescuing an old woman. “What a fascinating story,” Caesar said. “The more I know of you Claudius, the more I realize I have chosen the right man to enact my plan. The inscription, what was it,

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‘Death, Life, Peace’ do you have any inkling what the sword smith meant by it or what it truly means?” “I was told, by the old woman I mentioned, that one day, I alone would know the true meaning of the words.” “It sounds like the stuff of legends Claudius, what I mean is, it sounds like the Gods meant the weapon especially for you. Could that be possible?” “I have thought of that Caesar, and yes I believe it is possible.” “Well, it certainly meant something to the Arverni! Now Claudius I’m afraid I must conclude our meeting. You now have an idea of what I am trying to accomplish. I leave it to you to come up with a workable plan. Come back at this same hour, in four days time and we will gather all the loose ends together. If you need writing implements Septimus has been instructed to assist you in obtaining them. Be as thorough as possible in your endeavor and tap whatever resources you need.” Claudius didn’t sleep that night and the next few days saw a fountain of thought bursting in his mind. The evening of the second day, after his meeting with Caesar, a plan begin to form in his brain. He adopted then discarded many theories. He wasn’t sure how much latitude Caesar would give him but he reasoned, if Caesar valued his opinion this much, he would not disappoint the man. One thing in his favor was that the idea hadn’t been tried before. There was no prior history of success, or of failure and his instincts also said, Caesar would entertain any reasonable plan. Septimus helped him obtain paper and pen from the payroll clerk. He meticulously listed the steps he would take in recruitment and training. There is something missing from my list of ideas, he thought. There is a very important piece of this puzzle missing, and for his life, Claudius couldn’t figure out what it was. He had taken to strolling up and down the avenues of bivouacked tents to think and to clear his mind. It was during one of these strolls that a cavalry rider in full battle regalia rode by him. He was standing at the via principalis of the Tenth legion, at the time. Claudius halted in mid-stride and stared after the retreating rider and then it struck him. “That’s it,” he yelped, striking his fist into his palm, “That’s it, a horse, I must find Marcus right away.” It wasn’t difficult to find Marcus. Claudius headed for the field stables which was nothing more than a large area covered with numerous canvas tents, high enough to lodge horses and afford them shelter from the weather. Marcus was there as expected and Claudius watched him leading Thunder around a roped enclosure by a lanyard while tripping at the horse’s feet with a small tree branch. “Ho Marcus my brother, greetings,” Claudius said, with a broad smile. “Claudius, how good it is to see you. I’m teaching Thunder how to deal with lowlying brush and twigs. Sometimes that confuses a horse when he is not used to it. What brings you my way today brother?” The two men met and gave each other a great bear hug and both declared how good it was to see the other. “I have been meaning to get over to see you Claudius. I wanted to congratulate on your award but sometimes it is difficult to get away when you have command responsibility.” “You have been promoted? It is I who should be congratulating you my friend,” Claudius said, clapping him on the back.

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“Yes, my good fortune is the result of bad luck. Solianus was killed in the battle against the Arverni. He was a good man and a good soldier Claudius. He recognized my skill with horses and he sought my counsel often. What’s more, we were friends, even though he was an officer and an aristocrat and I only an ordinary Italian from Mitulum.” “I’m very sorry for the loss of your friend Marcus. I too have had some thoughts about war and death.” “Solianus had already recommended me for promotion so our general just moved me ahead to replace the centurion who was promoted to Tribune. So, I am now a centurion. Oh, here is a bit of news for you. I have taken charge of Aphrodite again. Solianus’ will stated that he loved the horse so much he could only place her in the care of someone who loved her as much as he did. I keep her safe for you to re-take possession of her, any time you wish.” “That statement about loving Aphrodite would also include me Marcus.” “What brings you my way Claudius?” “Marcus, it has just come to me. I know of a way you and I can reunite and serve together in this man’s army.” “What, how, how Claudius, you are in the infantry and I am in the cavalry, how can we serve together?” “There is a way Marcus. I can’t say too much now, I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but I will consult my superior with an idea that struck me. If he admires my plan it could happen. I will be able to tell you more about it once I know his decision.” “Your superior, you mean Labienus Claudius?” “Why it’s the general in command of this army, Gaius Julius Caesar.” Marcus’ mouth fell open and stayed that way for a bit of time. “You should close your mouth Marcus a big old horse fly might decide to take up residence in there.” “Surely you joke Claudius, come on, you are pulling my leg, aren’t you?” Claudius laughed and said, “No its true Marcus but I can say no more until I meet with him on the morrow and you can’t speak of it either, at least not now.” “My lips are sealed my friend, but I can’t wait to hear more.” The next day, directly after muster, Claudius went to Septimus to get the official permission to have an audience with Caesar. “Is this a follow-up to your meeting of the other day Claudius?” “Yes sir it is. It has a direct bearing on that meeting.” “You have my curiosity piqued Claudius. I can’t wait to hear all about it,” he said, giving Claudius an expectant glance. “You shall be the first to know Septimus, I promise you. You have actually been a great help to me in this endeavor and I give you my thanks.” “It was nothing Claudius I am Caesar’s man after all. He and I go back a long way.” “He did mention the battle of Lesbos, Septimus. I would truly like to hear your detailed account of that battle, around a campfire with a cup of wine, sometime.” “Consider it done Claudius, we will just have to wait for the opportunity.” “Oh one more thing sir. If Caesar accepts and chooses to act on the information that I am going to present to him, your assistance and support will be crucial to the success of the plan.”

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“I wish you success in whatever that mission is, but remember son, I am an old man now, to old for secret forays and all of that glory hunting stuff. I would be proud to help but only in an advisory capacity or as a facilitator. Am I clear on that account Claudius?” “Yes Septimus, I would never knowingly put you at risk. You are a dear friend and you have already helped me immeasurably.” “Claudius your appointment time approaches. Go to see Caesar and be sure of yourself, he likes that and don’t worry, if your plan is a sound one Caesar will quickly see it and a lot of convincing won’t be necessary. Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you. A rider came in late last night with a message from Rome. No one I spoke to seems to know what the message said but after reading it Caesar retired to his tent and hasn’t been seen since. Be aware of that situation when you seek your audience. Here, you will need this to show to the duty sentry,” Septimus said, pressing his ring into a small wax tablet and handing it to him. Claudius strode off clutching the tablet admitting to himself that he was now very excited about Caesar’s offer. His mind had flourished. It had renewed him and refreshed him, considerably. Now if only the plan can include Marcus, he thought, as he headed back to his tent to review his writings and prepare to meet Caesar. Claudius spent what time was left before noon, polishing and tweaking his plan. He felt confident the plan was clear and complete and he had purposely left openings for Caesar to insert his own ideas. At the appointed time, Claudius approached the command tent and again presented his pass to the armed sentry. To his surprise, the sentry pushed the pass back and said, “The general will not be taking any visitors today soldier.” “But I had direct orders from Caesar himself.” “Listen mule-brain, turn your arse around and march away from here or I will take the butt of my spear and tattoo your skull with it, now go!” The guard had raised his voice and was almost shouting. At that moment the legate for the Thirteenth Legion came around the far corner of the command tent and strode up to the arguing pair. It was Cassius Piso whom Claudius recognized from the recent awards ceremony. Claudius and the sentry both came to attention and saluted. Piso was a squat powerful man, nearly as wide as he was tall. He was pure army with no frills and well known for his cruelty, when angered. “You two know who I am?” he snapped. “Yes sir,” both men replied. “You, sentry, what’s your name?” “Why-why it’s Gaius sir, Gaius Cava, the sentry said, with more than a tinge of fear in his voice. “Stand at ease you louts, now, what is all this ruckus about? You know Caesar is in mourning. Why is this exchange even taking place? I should have both of you flogged for creating such a disturbance.” “Excuse me general. This is all my fault. I was insistent with this man, perhaps overly so. I had no idea Caesar mourned. Caesar and I had been in discussion on a training issue and at our last meeting, four days ago, he specifically stated that it was a very important issue and that I was to contact him when I had formulated a plan.”

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“I know who you are soldier and I also know what you and Caesar have been discussing.” Piso scratched his helmet-less head and stroked the gray stubble on his chin and thought for a moment. Speaking to himself, more than to the two men standing before him, he said, “This may be exactly what Caesar needs to jolt him out of his sorrow. You say this is important soldier, very well, I will personally go in to see Caesar and make him aware you are here with your little plan; but I warn you, the import of it better be as you say!” Claudius felt a knot of fear rise in his gut, but just nodded at Piso, as the man turned on his heel, drew back the flap of the command tent and disappeared inside. When Piso came out he cast a curious look at Claudius with even a slight trace of respect. “He has agreed to see you, but take heed, if the general is unable to tolerate your presence, for any reason, you must leave immediately. Do you understand soldier?” he said, menacingly. “Yes sir, I understand perfectly.” “Very well, you may go in now,” Piso said, as he shuffled off, muttering to himself about how a Primus Pilus has far too much power and not enough information to exercise some common sense. Claudius furtively entered the tent. There was a small brazier aflame but it did little to dispense the chill of the tent’s interior. Several lit candles also did little to alleviate the gloom. Caesar was seated at his desk wrapped in some sort of hooded cloak. His full face wasn’t visible only his nose and chin. Claudius stood at attention and gave the customary military salute and waited patiently for Caesar’s response. He said nothing for some long moments. Claudius could stand the silence no longer and said, “Caesar, please forgive my insensitivity. I should not have come. I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. I will come back another time” “Nonsense, you were only doing what you were ordered to do, sit down, soldier and pour yourself some wine. Its Falernian, have you ever had Falernian before Claudius?” Caesar then lost what little composure he had displayed. He put his head down on his arms and began to sob convulsively. Claudius instinctively went to the man to console him in any way he could. I am consoling the leader of the entire Roman world, he thought to himself, as he put his hand warmly but gently, on Caesar’s shoulder, trying to apply some measure of caring human contact to a man stricken by grief. The sobbing slowly subsided and Claudius could barely discern the muffled words as Caesar spoke them without raising his head. “She was my little girl,” Caesar said with a heaving sob. “She was the only woman who never betrayed me in some way. She was the burst of sunlight through the clouds on a gray day, the first flower that pops from the earth in the spring, a child’s precious loving pet. She had a way of listening with a little tilt to her head that made you feel that what you were saying was the most important thing in the entire world, even though, sometimes, she hadn’t a clue as to what you were talking about. Her golden hair would fall into her eyes when she concentrated on something and she would brush it back, angrily, with her hand, annoyed that her hair had the temerity to interrupt her thoughts. She was a light unto my world that was snuffed out to soon. Do you know how she died Claudius?” “No Caesar I haven’t any idea, please tell me about it.” “She died in childbirth. She died giving birth to a child of Pompey the Great. Do you know of him Claudius?”

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“I do know who he is Caesar although I have never set eyes on him.” “He was three times her age Claudius. I offered Pompeius her hand to cement our political alliances and he leapt at the chance like a lovesick schoolboy, and ended up worshiping the ground where she had tread. Do you know what the strangest part, in all of that, was Claudius, do you?” “No Caesar, I don’t, but I am interested to know.” “She was crazy about him, absolutely loved the man, with no reservations. She was as happy and content as a mother cat nursing her kittens. I could almost hear her purring whenever they were together. The Gods chuckle Claudius, they laugh at us. How can mere mortals understand a situation such as the one I just described to you? I vow I shall build her a temple Claudius and it will be the most beautiful in Rome and maybe even the most beautiful in the entire world. I will build it facing the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. I can visualize it. The roof will be sheathed in white marble and gold. It will be oblong built east to west and the roof will reflect the sun, through its cycle. It will be visible for miles, when approaching Rome. I will commission statues of her, throughout the city, to capture and preserve her essence in stone, forever, so that untold millions can marvel at her beauty, forever. Now, what is it that you have in the way of a plan to show me Claudius? You’re here, so you must have decided to act on my offer and show me your ideas.” Claudius was taken aback at Caesar’s sudden shift in emotion, but he quickly recovered. “Caesar, before we proceed, there is a portion of my plan that we must agree on. I have actually prepared a main plan and a contingency plan. You will see my reasoning once I present it to you.” “Very well Claudius, what is it that we have not yet discussed?” Caesar, for reasons I believe are valid, I think this shock troop you envision should be mounted force.” Caesar looked askance at Claudius, for a brief time and then said cautiously, “I see. I had not thought along those lines but please, continue.” “A mounted force could enter and exit a battle very quickly. I’m not talking about a force just fighting from horseback, although that is not excluded. I’m talking about a troop arriving at the battle, dismounting and fighting as a foot soldiers, then when need be, marshal the horses, remount and retreat or redeploy. These riders will be proficient in various weaponry, as well as in horsemanship. The horse will be the transport of the weaponry and the soldier. The force would be capable as cavalry, as infantry or as both.” “I like the idea, it grows on me as you speak. You of course realize, the horse introduces many other variables into the plan, but do continue.” “I would have much less enthusiasm for the plan Caesar if I did not have the certain person who is fully capable of the special training necessary to make the plan work.” “Who is he Claudius, this wizard with horses you speak of?” “His name is Marcus Carbellus. He has just been promoted to centurion of the Eleventh cavalry troop. He served under Solianus, who, as you probably know, was killed in the action against the Arverni.” “Yes, very sad and very unfortunate to lose Solianus. He was a fine young officer and had a promising military career ahead of him.”

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“So Caesar, before I present the remainder of my plan, I need to know your decision. Do you favor the mounted force over a straight foot force or vice versa?” “What do you favor Claudius, Caesar asked, unceremoniously?” Without hesitation Claudius said, “The mounted force Caesar. I feel instinctively that it is the right way to go to achieve what we are trying to do. A hard hitting highly mobile squadron that can strike and have a defining effect on the outcome of a battle.” “Very well Claudius, a mounted force it shall be. I shall send for my scribe Picoletes. He will copy down all that you say today and transcribe all of your notes as well. We shall each have a copy of the documents. I shall have to show your plan to a select group of individuals so that they will be aware of what’s going on, but otherwise I would like to implement your plan immediately. Sentry, find Picoletes. Tell him to bring himself and his implements, as quickly as possible.” The sentry saluted and took leave to follow Caesar’s instructions. “Now we will need more light in here,” Caesar said, as he lit several lamps and spread the tent flaps wide to allow the daylight to aid the cause. Much of what was recorded that day appeared in the transcript, exactly as Claudius had written it. Step one would be a recruitment and selection process, in which Claudius would be principally involved. He would post a notice, at the paymaster’s tent, with all four legions and at the cavalry camp; inviting any man for a try-out with the new volunteer squadron. To begin, he outlined to Caesar, he would have to match wooden swords with some of the early applicants, until such time as someone with exceptional skills appeared. He could then delegate the same screening task to that man and so on until a proper size force had been selected. This would be the core group. “How many do you think Claudius?” “Let’s see what kind of men we have Caesar, to be sure, but I think not more than two hundred.” Next would come weapons training and when a satisfactory level of skill was achieved, horsemanship training would be the final phase. “The plan has to be open ended Caesar. There will be modifications due to obstacles that I cannot foresee, but I’m certain those obstacles will present themselves and we can deal with them as they occur.” “I agree. It would be best to look at our situation that way. I must also set up a support structure to assist you Claudius. All of my legates will be advised and they in turn will inform their subordinates. This will guarantee cooperation from any army faction that you need to draw upon. The next part I must insist upon so listen carefully to what I require of you. I want to have a functional force ready by Septembris. That gives you almost three months to prepare. At that time you will be required to conduct a live demonstration of your troop’s capability. This simulated battle will be presented to myself and the officers of the four legions. This is critical Claudius and should be carefully planned to succeed.” “Is this the make-or-break test Caesar?” “Yes Claudius, I’m afraid it is. I am in command of the army but I still need the support of my officers in all my efforts. There are already some dissenters in this group as you can well imagine. They are men of strong influence. They are locked into the old

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ways and any change, in fundamental military tactics, makes them very uneasy. Do you see my point Claudius?” “Yes Caesar, I fully appreciate your position. Marcus, and I will do our very best to make the test drill as successful as we possibly can.” “Very well then Claudius, you have my faith and my trust. We will have one more meeting to iron out any wrinkles that arise in the process; you will launch your program immediately after that last meeting. I will take the responsibility of posting a notice with all four legions; we will also herald the news. My name on the document will inform the readers of its official nature, although I suspect your fame, with the troops, will be more than enough to fill our manpower needs. One day after the notices are posted I want you to begin your recruitment process. Also, at that last meeting, bring centurion Marcus Carbellus with you so that I can meet him.” “I will Caesar and I’m sure he is excited to meet you.” “Very well then, if there is nothing else you may go. Oh, forgive me, a few more things before you go. I have ordered Septimus to relieve you of all duty assignments so you are free to work on this project uninterrupted. And lastly, have you thought of a name you might want to call this squadron you are about to create?” “Why no Caesar I had given no thought to a name,” Claudius said, seeming embarrassed by the question. “I have a suggestion for you to consider. You know that wolf fang you wear on a chain around your neck? I couldn’t help noticing it when you were leaning over the desk and it kept falling out of your tunic.” “Yes Caesar, my father gave it to me. He killed a wolf with a small dagger when he was ten years old and his father had the wolf’s fang worked in silver and gave it to my father as a reward for his bravery.” “I would like to hear more of your father sometimes Claudius. He sounds like an exceptional man.” “He is Caesar. It was he who taught me the art of the sword. He served in the legions and was even a gladiator at one time.” “Fascinating, I shall look forward to meeting him someday. Now, back to my idea Claudius. Why not call your troop the ‘Wolf Pack’?” Claudius paused; his mind spurted with the advantages of adopting such a special name, and then said enthusiastically, “Your suggestion is a perfect fit Caesar. We shall assume the name you suggested. We shall become a savage, ravaging ‘Wolf Pack’ and we will teach the enemy to fear us.” “Excellent,” Caesar said, “Excellent.”

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Chapter X The Wolf Pack The recruitment day dawned warm, bright and clear. The dew covered plain shimmered in the early light, as though it were covered with frost. The rising summer sun easily chased away the morning mist until only a few wisps of it clung toward ground level. It swirled slightly around the legs of Thunder and Aphrodite as they plodded along. Both men had worn their newly acquired Centurion uniforms and helmets, with the curved, horsehair crest, affixed across the top of the helmet, running from ear to ear. They were both armed, but not in full battle dress and each had worn his scarlet cloak. The new centurion uniforms fit them well and seemed to sit comfortably on both men. “It feels good to be on Aphrodite’s back Marcus. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her. She remembered her brother, and whinnied her greeting to me the day you and I went to see Caesar.” “I shall not soon forget that meeting Claudius. I never met anyone that radiated power quite the way that man did, it was a bit unsettling, and yet, he was affable. It was like we were old friends greeting each other after a long separation. I still can’t believe it.” “I guess that affability is what makes him a great leader and so loved by his men Marcus.” “This is like old times Claudius, it reminds me of our ride from Arettium to Ravenna. We are journeying to meet our destiny once again, except this time, I believe we will have much more control of it than we did before, eh old friend?” The rallying point for the beginning of the recruitment process was to be the ‘Great Tree’. Caesar’s hand in that choice had occurred to Claudius as soon as he learned of it. The man never ceases to amaze me, Claudius thought. He thinks of everything, even using the workings of fate to achieve his ends. As the pair approached the site, they came down a little depression and over a slight rise. The sight that greeted them, when they topped the hill, made Claudius’ mouth drop open and Marcus gasp in surprise. There were hundreds of men milling around the tree, its great weathered hulk, standing silently in their midst. “Marcus, do you believe what we are seeing here?” “It is a sight to behold Claudius. The only question I have is, how are we going to work our way through the selection process? With this horde of men, it will take weeks.” “I will speak to them Marcus and see if we can’t cull this number down a bit.” Caesar had probably anticipated such a large turnout and had a large tent already erected. Under the tent were several long tables and a scattering of campstools. Claudius could make out the scribes setting up their tablets and writing instruments. There were also two large wagons, positioned to the rear of the tent. Claudius could make out what looked like food and water in one wagon, while the other was loaded with wooden swords and standard issue legion shields. The mass of men, having spotted the approach of Claudius and Marcus, erupted into a great cheer. Four riders wended their way through the cheering throng, reined-up and saluted. “Caesar has sent us sir. We are Heralds and we will place ourselves strategically so that we can relay your words and carry them to every ear. Please speak slowly and clearly and we will do the rest.”

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“I will try to make my way to somewhere near the middle of the group, then I shall speak to them,” Claudius said. When this was accomplished, Claudius raised his arms for silence as he slowly turned left and right in the saddle. The crowd settled down to receive the words. Motioning Marcus to his side, Claudius began, mustering as much authority to his voice as he could. “Soldiers of Rome, I welcome you today. I applaud your enthusiasm. What we are about to embark upon is unique in the history of the Roman Army. You all know who is behind this plan. Because of your great enthusiasm, we must now undergo a selection process to reduce your numbers. Here are some conditions, you must abide by. No married men will be allowed,” a slight collective groan rose from those gathered. “This service will portend great bodily risk. Our group will be sent to the most desperate spots raging in a battle. There can be no distraction of a wife and children on anyone’s mind. This rule doesn’t mean any of you married men are inferior soldiers, on the contrary, what it means is that you, making the choice to step away, and are brave enough to put your loved ones ahead of yourself. The main army is a much safer place for. A better chance to live and be with your family after your service is ended. Any man later discovered to be married will be dismissed from the group, punished for lying and sent back to his original billet. Now, I ask you to look into your hearts and make the choice.” Several hundred men men hung their heads slightly and shuffled off to return to their duty stations. “For those of you that are left, I urge you to look within yourself. This training will be extremely rigorous. It will make your legion training look like child’s play. If at any time you do not want to continue, you may see me, or my second in command,” Marcus raised his hand to be recognized. Claudius continued, “Should you decide that this duty is not for you, no stigma will be attached to your decision to leave and you can return to your regular army billet. Some will be chosen, some will not. The test process will consist of two things. First is, your ability with the sword, the other will be your attitude. This second thing may be more important than the first. If you are not chosen, you will be disappointed, no doubt. However, hold your head high, return to your regular duties and continue to perform at your best and realize the Gods may have even greater plans for you. Now, form a line at the end of the tent, to your right, and our selection process will begin.” “Marcus, there won’t be enough time to test each individual’s ability by myself, but I can work our way through it in this manner. We will have two levels of skill to look for. A top-level swordsman will become a tester to seek others with equal or greater ability, these men you will mark with a blue spot on their right wrist. The next level we will only add to the group as recruits. They will be good, but not too good. These men will receive a red spot on their right wrist. I hope I can identify a trainer early on so we can speed up the selection process. Take the first five in line and let them exercise and warm their muscles, with a sword and shield, while they are waiting to be tested. I want to address the group once more.” By now those wedded contestants and those that had self doubt had left. Scanning the group that was left, Claudius guessed their number to be about four hundred. Claudius was now carrying a wooden sword and shield. He produced a whistle from his waistband, blew it shrilly and all turned their attention to him.

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“All applicants, please listen very carefully to these instructions. How you interpret them may mean your success or failure. You are about to match swords with me or with someone I will designate. You will be expected to exhibit maximum effort in these encounters. I am not your instructor; I am your enemy. I will attack and defend with vigor. I strongly suggest you do the same.” A slight murmur rippled through the ranks. “Do not attempt to strike me with your shield, use only your sword as a weapon to strike or parry. Use all of the strength and quickness at your disposal. When the whistle blows, disengage immediately. If you receive a colored spot, on your hand, remain. If you do not, return to your billet and re-join your regular army unit. We will retain your name and unit in our records. If an opening occurs, for whatever reason, you may be contacted for a re-test. Give it your best soldiers.” A wooden weapon had been issued to the first five in line and they had warmed their muscles sufficiently. Claudius received his weapon and motioned for the first man to step forward. The man was equal to height to Claudius but of a slighter build. He waved his sword back and forth keeping his wrist loosened with the motion. “Ready”, Claudius asked. The man only nodded in reply. “Engage”, Claudius shouted loudly and launched a furious slashing stabbing attack that penetrated the man’s defenses at almost every thrust. The man knew that he would be dead if the attack had been real. “He is faster than a striking snake,” the man said, as he handed his wooden weapon to Marcus and stalked off, speaking to no one as he left. “Next”, Claudius barked. The next man handled Claudius’ assault much better but stumbled and fell backward. Claudius sounded his whistle and told the soldier to get a red spot on his wrist. “Next,” Claudius bellowed. Claudius immediately sensed something different in his next opponent and tried to bait him by backing away. The man circled Claudius warily offering several feints as he did so. He is testing me for weaknesses Claudius thought. Slowly, in circling, Claudius opponent closed the gap between the two and with virtually no warning launched a blistering attack driving Claudius steadily back. The man was lightening fast. As fast as any Claudius had encountered. When the momentum slowed a bit Claudius parried the next blow and with a flick of his wrist he sent the soldier’s sword sailing off into the air. The soldier stopped in his tracks and looked at his empty hand and over to where his sword lay is the dust. “How did you do that?” the soldier asked, incredulously. “I will show you sometime,” Claudius answered. “What is your name soldier?” “It’s Lucius sir,” the soldier replied. “See Marcus and get a blue spot on your right wrist, we will talk at the break. Next,” Claudius shouted. By the time it came for a break and some refreshment, Claudius had identified six other men such as Lucius. He coached them in staging test matches of their own to aid him in selecting or rejecting recruits. “If they are as good as, or better than, you, spot them blue. If they are trainable but not quite up to your ability, spot them red. If they are unable to compete at all, you are authorized to dismiss them. Remember about attitude, a man can be taught to use the sword if he has raw talent and the right attitude.” The test matches continued into the late afternoon. There were now seven test matches going on simultaneously and the group marked red had grown considerably. Marcus had also been active in the process alerting Claudius when the number of recruits

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had exceeded one hundred. With daylight waning, Claudius decided to try and cull the numbers remaining once more. He had spoken to Marcus about a horsemanship demonstration and they had agreed that such a thing might further discourage any skeptical applicants. Gathering the Heralds once more Claudius prepared to speak to the group. “Soldiers of Rome, you have done well this day but, because there are a number of you still untested, we will have to continue testing tomorrow; before you return to your billets for the night, I wish to remind you that our troop will ultimately be a mounted one. My second in command Marcus will now demonstrate quick mounting a horse. This is a feat you will be required to perform. If it proves that you are unable to do so, you will be rejected from our group, even though you may be an excellent swordsman. Please observe carefully what you are about to see. Tonight, around your camp fires, think carefully about your ability.” A signal was given and Marcus approached the watching group of men, leading Thunder. He was in full battle dress, helmet armor and sword. His shield was strapped to Thunder’s hindquarter. A small bow and a supply of arrows were tucked in a pouch just behind the shield and a pocket containing several small spear-like weapons was lashed to the other hindquarter of the horse. Claudius nodded to begin. Marcus lightly touched Thunder on the neck and the horse took off at a gallop. Marcus, at an all out run, matched his foot speed, to the horse’s, grabbed a handful of mane with one hand and the saddle horn with the other pulled himself up until his feet just cleared the ground speeding past. He touched his feet to the ground once, for purchase and vaulted lightly up into the saddle. He rode a ways out, and then returned; reining in Thunder and lightly hopping off the horse’s back to deliver a classic military salute. The men began cheering loudly knowing they had just witnessed a demonstration of superior horsemanship. Once more Claudius addressed the group. “Those with out colored spots are dismissed for the day to return, at sun-up tomorrow, for a continuation of today’s activities. Those with colored spots will also return here with those personal items you need for an extended stay. Do not wash off your spots just yet. It will be easier tomorrow if you retain them.” With that he brought them to attention and then dismissed them. When the second selection day dawned, it was a duplicate of the first. The weather remained ideal. The limited time frame, in which the two men had to operate, long ago dictated that they would train no matter what the weather conditions were. Marcus and Claudius arrived at the training site and immediately observed that the number of potential recruits had diminished considerably. Claudius estimated there were now about two hundred untested applicants left. The testing of sword skills continued until the entire group of men had finally been evaluated. The process was completed around midday and went smoothly, due to the help of the blue spots. There were twenty of them and Claudius decided they would make excellent optios or squad leaders. “They are good choices Claudius. I hope they aren’t afraid of horses.” There were to be two centuries of eighty, leaving forty in reserve to fill ranks depleted by casualties or other reasons. Another wagon from Caesar magically appeared that day. It was loaded with standard legionnaire tents. Their present location would become their semi-permanent home until such time as their training was complete and the demonstration for Caesar accomplished, they would then be billeted alongside the Tenth legion cavalry.

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The next step was to build a fortified camp. The complaining soon started but it was only typical of any army personnel when a laborious task was undertaken. The complaining stopped when the men bent to the task. Besides, they were in enemy territory and a sound camp, and posted sentries, insured that every man slept safe. By sunset, sentries were posted and the tiny army was ensconced behind a semi-deep moat and a sturdy stockade. The following day was spent installing the training devices they would need. Twenty wooden posts set firmly in the ground, about the height of a man and the thickness of a man’s body. The sword drills commenced, block, parry and thrust drills, over and over, hour after hour, day after day, in full battle regalia, until Claudius noted a marked improvement in the most unskilled of the group. The men who fell behind were privately tutored by Claudius until they could hold their own against the more talented swordsmen. It seemed that every man was willing to take criticism and strive to improve. Claudius was hugely pleased by this positive attitude and praised it wherever it surfaced. As part of the regimen, every day started out with a three mile run. Claudius and Marcus would scout ahead, on horseback, to insure against any surprise attack. Every fifth day the group went for a swim, also in full battle dress. There was a small deep pond nearby that served them well in this regard. This practice proved difficult for those that couldn’t swim but they learned quickly enough, mostly to silence the jibes and taunts of the ones who could swim. Claudius reasoning was, to achieve peak physical conditioning, as soon as possible. When this was achieved he knew the soreness would vanish and the complaints would cease, and after a time, they did. Claudius and Marcus shared an eight-man tent, spending nearly every night discussing the day’s training methods and new ideas to institute in the coming day’s agenda. The discussions weren’t always about training. “Do you think of Portia often Marcus?” “Yes Claudius, I do. Every single day I think about her, and some of the funny things she did. She had a wonderful sense of humor. We teased and joked with each other constantly; but I miss her most of all at night, when it is quiet and there is only the dark and the memory of her. I see her face, with the slightest smile to let me know she had me all figured out, but she never said so in words. She was all any man could ever want in a woman. I shall never love another as I did her.” “Don’t rule out another love Marcus. Life ebbs and it flows. You can never know what the future will bring. I envy you, you know? I have never felt for a woman what you feel for Portia. Even though she was taken from you far too soon, you have those precious memories to hold on to. I hope I can have my chance at that too, someday.” “Now I just reflect your own words Claudius. It could be as you wish, you just never know. I hope it happens for you.” After three market intervals, Claudius was more than pleased with the advances made in swordsmanship. He could pick out any pair and stage a match between them and each could hold his own against the other. Claudius could guess the eventual winner if it had been a real battle, but he was pleased, knowing that the skill of his men far surpassed that possessed by the ordinary soldier.

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Next came the drills for the spear and the bow. The drills for these two weapons were given less time. Claudius knew, and Marcus agreed, that any skill acquired would have to be re-learned and perfected, from the back of a horse. Much of the discussion he and Marcus had was in this regard. When to introduce the horse? “I have been giving the horse introduction a lot of thought Claudius. I think it’s best to present the relationship between horse and rider in an entirely different way.” “What do you mean Marcus?” “Do you remember how I introduced you to Thunder and Aphrodite?” “Yes Marcus, I liked that very much. I never imagined I would love a horse, but I do love Aphrodite, as if she were my sister.” “That’s it, that’s the key to it Claudius! We shall show our men how to love their horses, as sisters and brothers, before any riding skills, tactics or weapons training begins.” “You mean speaking into the horse’s ear Marcus?” Marcus replied with a chuckle, “Yes Claudius, that’s exactly what I mean.” Both men looked at each other and laughed as each made a mental picture of some of these tough battle hardened legionnaires whispering, “I love you,” into the ear of a horse. In fact, the more they thought of it, the more they laughed, until they had to hold their sides from the pain of the laughing. Training with the spear went exceptionally well. All recruits had already undergone basic training with the legionnaire’s pilum so graduating to the shorter, lightweight cavalry spear was a very easy transition. Within three days time, each recruit, including Claudius and Marcus, was able to plant the spear point chest high into the man post, at sixty paces, nine times out of ten tries. Claudius felt this skill level was adequate when on foot. He didn’t quite know yet what would be adequate from the back of a horse. The bow and arrow was an entirely different matter. It wasn’t a standard infantry weapon. A few of the men knew how to handle a bow but most were clumsy and inept with the weapon. Marcus had been trained in its use but he readily admitted that his cavalry unit very seldom used it. Even in the recent action against the Arverni, the bow and arrows had been left behind when the Eleventh had been deployed. “Why Marcus, why the hesitancy to use a weapon that they take the trouble to train you with?” “It’s the commanders Claudius. They say you need two hands to apply the weapon, which means, you have to let go of the reins. Now you must steer the horse with your legs or knees, which requires more skill on the part of the rider. It’s very hard to ride in a straight line when you are so preoccupied. They also believe that the arrows rattling around in a quiver spooks the horse.” “I wasn’t aware of what you just said Marcus but I believe strongly in the bow. It could be an effective weapon for us. It could also be the key to really putting on an impressive show for Caesar when the time comes.” “Yes, I see your point Claudius. Caesar would be highly pleased. It is an innovation and, the whole idea of this troop is an innovation, isn’t it?” “This is an unforeseen problem Marcus. I want to employ the weapon, in our arsenal, but we can’t afford the time it will take to properly train with it. I’ll have a talk with Septimus. The old veteran may have an answer for us.”

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The following day, the rain, that had begun the night before, continued. The practice field was a quagmire and largely unusable. It would be a good day to rest the men and let them relax Claudius thought, so he instructed Marcus to give the men the day off. While everyone is relaxing, I will seek out Septimus, he thought. The legion camp was in a similar state of inactivity. There were no drills going on and it appeared that most everyone had sought shelter of some sort. Claudius found Septimus in his tent, relaxing, looking over some wax tablets and scrolls scattered over his bunk. When Claudius poked his head inside the tent, Septimus looked up and broke into a wide smile at the sight of his young friend. “Ho Claudius, you look hale and hearty. All of that physical training is doing you some good!” “You’re right sir, I do feel good. The training is going well. We have an exceptional group of men and they are performing beyond our expectations.” “I suspect the reason for that would be the quality of their teacher. So, what brings you to look up an old soldier, who can only dream of doing what you are doing”? “It appears I now need the sage advice of that old soldier you recently spoke of.” “I will do what I can son. What seems to be the problem?” Claudius related the story of the futile attempts at training his men with the bow and how gaining any level of proficiency in its use would consume to great an amount of time. He also told Septimus how he thought Caesar would be greatly impressed if his men could add archery to their arsenal of weapons. “I agree Claudius, Caesar would be greatly impressed if your men could become archers. Let me think on it a moment”, Septimus said, as he scratched his chin. “The Tenth has a cohort of archer auxiliaries attached to it. They are a mix of Syrians and Cretans. They mostly keep to themselves but I do happen to know one of the Cretan commanders, his name is Falasha, he has been with the Tenth since Africa, some twenty-five years now. He speaks excellent Latin. I will talk with him and see what he can tell us that would help our cause. Now, come let’s partake of a small libation to the Gods and you can fill me in on some of the details of the training you have been putting your group through. I’m all ears.” By daylight the next day, the rain had ceased and a brisk breeze was rapidly drying out the practice field. The ‘Wolf Pack’ had been mustered, all were present and accounted for and group leaders were instructed to commence standard sword drills. Marcus and Claudius retired to the stable tent for a brief conference, including an up-date for Marcus regarding the previous day’s meeting with Septimus. No sooner had they settled in than a commotion occurred at the camp entrance. There were three mounted men at the gate. Two of them were each leading a pack animal loaded down with bundles of what appeared to be bows and arrows. Septimus was riding alongside one of the men chatting with him as they rode along. Septimus was bareheaded and clad in a tunic. The other man was of a swarthy complexion, long flowing black beard, somewhat smallish in stature and had on the strangest outfit Claudius had ever seen. It appeared to be full battle dress with a conical metal helmet and chain mail shirt over a bright green tunic. His britches were a vivid red. His legs were wrapped in leather, from knees to ankle with spurred leather slippers for his feet. A yellow sash was around his waist with a matching yellow scarf flowed from his horse’s halter. The other rider was a good deal younger than the first and dressed exactly the same way.

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Claudius and Marcus exchanged looks and strode up to the trio giving the standard Roman salute to Septimus, which he returned. The two swarthy men said and did, nothing. “Claudius, I would like you to meet my friend Falasha. This is his grandson Baertes. They are archer auxiliaries from the island of Crete, the ones I was telling you about.” Claudius was speechless for a moment. After a time he said, “I had no idea you would respond to me so quickly Septimus. I thank you but as you can see, I’m ill prepared, for you but please, dismount and join us for some refreshment.” The trio dismounted and Septimus said, “You’re welcome Claudius and yes, some refreshments would be nice but first, let’s discuss your current problem. When we aren’t marching or fighting the camp routine gets dull, quickly, so when I went to see Falasha, he was excited to offer his help in solving your archery problem. He wanted to address the issue as soon as possible. That’s why we came unannounced. He can probably save you some time and some needless work and get your boys arching in short order.” Claudius explained his ultimate intent to the Cretan commander, who listened patiently without interrupting. “What do you think Falasha, do you have any suggestions to speed-up our training in any way?” “I think I can help you young sir,” he said, as he went to the pack animals and selected a bow and some arrows from the packs they were carrying. “Why, it’s a long bow”, Claudius said. “We have been training with the short recurved cavalry bow. The same one the Eleventh Troop uses”. “Yes young sir, I know, but please, allow me to demonstrate. Are you familiar with archery?” “Yes I am Falasha.” “Can you hit one of those dead-men over there?” Falasha asked, gesturing to the buried logs? “Yes sir, I believe I can.” “Here, take this long bow and show me,” Falasha said. Claudius grasped the bow, hefted it, notched an arrow, test drew the weapon, took aim and let fly. The arrow thudded solidly into the wooden post, about chest high. “You do know how to use a long bow, very well to, I think. Now young sir, take my bow and do the same. You do see it is very similar to your Roman cavalry bow, short, re-curved, strong and compact,” Falasha said, removing the bow from its place over his shoulder and handing it to Claudius, with an arrow. “Yes Falasha, I see it is as you say.” “Very well. Now, try to duplicate what you just did using this bow.” Again, Claudius hefted and drew the bow knowing it would be much stiffer than the long bow. He notched an arrow, drew the bow, took aim and launched the missile at the same target. The arrow missed the mark by a wide margin. He turned to Falasha and a knowing smile spread over his face. Falasha smiled back. “Young sir, your problem has a simple solution, yes?” “Yes Falasha, I see. You showed me what our problem is instead of telling me. Our men should train with the long bow, to gain confidence, and then, shift to the shorter cavalry bow. They will adapt much easier that way.”

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The old man smiled broadly, nodded his head up and down several times and turned to Septimus, “You have a very bright young man here. He will make a fine leader for he uses his thinker,” Falasha said, tapping his conical metal helmet with a fingertip. “Falasha, please, could you and your grandson, join me and my second in command, Marcus, for some refreshments. I will have some honey cakes and hot tea sent over. There are many more questions I would like to ask, if you are not to busy.” “We are not otherwise occupied. It will be good to do this. Baertes, come we will sit with these fine men and exchange ideas”. “May I come along,” Septimus asked, mockingly? “Of course Septimus, I didn’t mean to offend you by not offering an invitation, but I am so excited with the latest news, I forgot my manners.” “No offense taken son.” Claudius and Marcus learned much from the time spent with Falasha and Baertes. Even Septimus, having many years experience in the making of war, learned things about archery that he hadn’t even imagined. The gained knowledge and the switch to the long bow, for building confidence with the weapon, were dramatic and immediate. There weren’t enough bows to equip all two hundred recruits but with proper alternate scheduling, each recruit, including Marcus and Claudius, was able to consistently impale the post, using the cavalry bow, after just six days of intense practice. On the evening of the final day of archery training, Marcus and Claudius conferred at their usual night time meeting. “I am very satisfied with the state of the training Marcus. All of the men are now proficient with our arsenal of weapons. My own confidence has grown. I also see it in the men. The frustration I saw before, it is gone. The men even have contests and side bets among themselves when practicing. That is a sign that morale is high and that is a good thing. You’re smiling Marcus, you know what comes next, don’t you?” “Yes Claudius. I believe the time has come for us to get to know our horses. Have you sent word to Caesar or anyone else regarding our mounts?” “I have my brother. We should be receiving a herd of horses some time tomorrow afternoon. Caesar sent me a sealed message saying that he ordered the head herdsman not to send us any dogs. But still, even with Caesar’s order, you must examine each and every animal to make sure they are all sound and in good health. Can I leave that particular chore up to you?” “Yes Claudius, to be sure. Do you know how many we are getting?” “I asked for two hundred and ten. That will allow a horse for each man plus ten spares. I’m not counting on any injuries but it won’t hurt to be prepared. I hope there are enough animals in the cavalry reserves to meet our needs.” When the herd of horses arrived the next day, all the recruits watched as the animals were assembled for Marcus’ inspection. The task used up much of the morning and when it was completed Marcus met with Claudius, to share his findings. “Why are you grinning so broadly Marcus?” “The Goddess Fortuna has smiled on us brother. This herd of horses is outstanding. I can’t find a reason to reject any of them. Some are near perfect and whatever else I observed can be easily corrected with some good treatment.”

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“Caesar has helped us once again. What would we have done and where would we be without his influence. This gesture speaks to me Marcus. What it says is, Caesar wants this venture to succeed, very badly.” As the two friends walked together, headed for the mess tent and the afternoon meal, Claudius put his arm around Marcus’ shoulder. “Well centurion Marcus Carbellus, tomorrow we introduce our men to their new brothers and sisters.” Marcus gave a sidelong glance to Claudius and both men broke into a fit of laughter at the joke they both remembered from an earlier discussion. “I can’t wait Claudius. This will be the most interesting part of our effort yet.” “I too look forward to it Marcus, it definitely will be as interesting as you say.” The next day dawned bright and clear. A fresh breeze blew in from the West but it was gentle and barely riffled the horse’s manes and tails. The sun was pleasantly warm and added to the atmosphere of anticipation that was in the air. Claudius conducted the usual morning muster and two mile run and then the men, seeming to be in high spirits, all sat down to breakfast. “I want to speak to the men before we begin Claudius. Many have never even touched a horse before so I’m sure there is apprehension in some and I want to allay those fears.” “When all have had sufficient time to eat, I will get them at attention, and then you can take over. Speak to them from Thunder’s back Marcus, it will give you a presence that will draw their interest. Before you begin, I want to give you my heartfelt thanks.” “Whatever for Claudius? This is a great adventure for me. It is I who should be thanking you!” “Maybe so old friend, but especially now, with the last phase of our training about to begin, I have to say that you have helped me immensely. We would not be where we are if I hadn’t had you with me.” Marcus gave Claudius a sheepish grin and said, “Come Claudius, let’s go and create a new and unique cavalry troop!” “Men of the ‘Wolf Pack’, “Marcus began, in a loud commanding voice. The form of address caused the men to exchange looks with one another, break out in wide selfsatisfied grins and pat each other on the back. “Today, you will meet your new companion. These animals you see before you are not beasts, they are your brothers and your sisters. You will grow to love them and they will grow to love you. They will carry you to battle and to safety, as you wish, and never question your reason or your authority. If you learn to love them, as I do Thunder here, they will return that love, carrying out your commands, even unto death. You will learn to properly care for your horse. You will also be held responsible for lack of care. I strongly caution you here and now. Abuse, of a horse, will be tolerated. Any infraction in this area will result in disciplinary action and your immediate dismissal from the ‘Wolf Pack’. Now soldiers, I ask you to go among the herd you see before you, quietly and gently with no undue clamor. Pick any horse you wish, but do not squabble now. If necessary we can amend the choices at a later date. Choose based on something you instantly like about the horse, color, his markings or his eyes, anything that pleases you. When you have chosen, take the horse’s halter lead your new friend to the hay pile and

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let him eat, and after a while, lead him to drink from the trough, after that, we shall have a get acquainted session.” Marcus and Claudius chatted and waited by their horses. The requested proceedings took a considerable amount of time to complete. “You were right Marcus. Some of the men didn’t know to grab a rein to lead the horse. They were looking around for a handle.” Both men chuckled a bit. “You may not think so now Claudius but in a very short time, these men will become equestrians of the first order.” The feeding and watering completed, Marcus gave his next order. “Soldiers, take the halter and lead your horse to form a circle, large enough to accommodate all of you.” This was done in an orderly fashion. “Now, stand next to your horses left shoulder. Place your right arm gently around the horse’s neck, hold it there for a while, then speak softly into the horse’s ear and say these words. ‘My name is, state your name, and add, I want to be your friend. If the horse is much taller than you, gently pull the horse’s head down, so its ear is near your mouth. Don’t feel foolish, this step is very important in bonding. After you have done as instructed, repeat the exercise once again, and remember, to speak softly and slowly and this time, after you state your name add the words ‘I love you’!” Many of the men balked at the second request but as the group accomplished the task, and the men began to laugh and joked about it. Soon the troop had done what had been asked. Marcus thought it went rather well, considering the novelty of it. The horses didn’t seem to mind at all. The next drill allowed each man to lead his horse to a booster, consisting of two logs sunk in the ground with a cross log as a step. Marcus demonstrated beforehand and then signaled the men to copy his action. “Lead your horse to the step, then step up on the booster and mount your horse from his left side and sit on his bare back for a while. Now soldiers listen very carefully and follow my directions exactly. Dismount and lead your horse to the picket lines strung out under our large tent. That tent is now our stable. Always return your horse to the same spot on that line. You may mark the rope with some sort of identification if you wish. Tie or more properly, tether your horse to the picket line. After that is done take a bristle brush that from that pile in the wagon over there and brush your horse down. The brush becomes yours to keep. I will demonstrate on my horse Thunder,” he said, as he gave the horse a quick but thorough brush down. “This brushing is very pleasing to a horse and they will learn to trust you and will look forward to you doing this. When you have completed your brushing the evening meal will be served, as usual, in the mess tent. When you are ready to retire for the night you will take your bed roll and bed down at a spot in front of your horse, positioned so that he or she can see you and smell you, only I hope this is not to unpleasant for the horse.” This caused a ripple of laughter to pass through the ranks. “You will sleep with your horse for the next two nights. Tomorrow, after our morning warm-up, you will learn to ride him. Lastly, before you drop off to sleep tonight, think of a name you might want to give your new found friend.” As the days passed, Claudius watched Marcus work tirelessly with the men. The results were amazing and Claudius realized how truly gifted Marcus was. He first showed the men how to establish a bond with their horse and how to build trust between in each

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other. Claudius observed Marcus identify students that grasped the teachings quickly and then enlisted their aid in bringing the others along. At first, the training was slow, the men learning to saddle their horse and balance their bodies with its natural motion. Maneuvering the horse proved to be much less of a problem than Marcus had anticipated. First teaching the horse to turn, using only the pressure of the knees and thighs of the rider, then a similar, hands free exercise, where the rider steered the horse by laying the reins on either side of the horse’s neck for turns and center saddle for a straight line of travel. This hands free exercise was critical in allowing the rider to launch or wield his weapons. Over the next several days, the troop spent so much time in the saddle, Marcus observed something he hadn’t considered. The men were constantly applying a medicinal salve to the inside of their thighs and knees, in the evening, before they retired. Marcus realized the men were suffering from friction blisters. The blisters had worsened, in some riders, to a point where, they were unable to ride. “I have to do something Claudius, the men are in serious discomfort. They can’t progress in the training if they are in pain.” Claudius could see Marcus’ frustration and he also noticed a drop in morale as the days passed. “Our progress has slowed Marcus. We have one month left to prepare for our debut with Caesar!” This statement caused a restless night for both men, and an especially sleepless one for Marcus, as he struggled with the problem. Several hours before dawn Claudius had finally dozed off. He felt Marcus’ hand on his shoulder, shaking him “What is it Marcus, what’s the matter?” He could see Marcus’ face alight with eagerness in the dim light. “I have an idea Claudius and I’m going to follow through with it.” “What is it, can you tell me?” “No time now, but I need some help from the legion blacksmith and from the keeper of the tack for the Eleventh Cavalry. I know both men well and their help will be invaluable. I will return as soon as I can so we can try out my idea. I hope it works.” “Good luck brother,” Claudius said, as Marcus rode off in the direction of the legion camp. I have never seen him this excited before, he thought. I wonder what he has in mind. When Marcus returned, there was a large sack fastened to Thunder’s saddle horn. Marcus dismounted, grasped the sack and dumped it on the ground. The sack yielded a bunch of metal rings that were circular in shape, except that one segment of the circle had been flattened. The rings were about the size of a large fist and the metal the thickness of a man’s finger. He also had a quantity of leather rein material that was half a hand wide and about half as thick as a sword blade. Each leather strap had a series of holes, in the center of the straps, and a similar series of holes, at each end. Marcus also had some thin iron straps, each with four studs protruding from one side. The studs were apparently made to match the holes in the leather. “Marcus, what in the world is all of this?” “It may be the answer to our problem Claudius, if it works the way I think it will, it will relieve the suffering of our riders and give them something to boost them up in the saddle.” Claudius watched with keen interest as Marcus assembled one of his devices. First he passed one end of the long leather strap through two rings. Then he gathered the

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loose holed ends and using thin metal strips, he matched the metal studs to the holes in the leather straps, which completed the assembly. He then gauged the length of the assembly to the saddle strapped to back of Thunder, and after several trial adjustments, he bound the metal strips and leather straps together using a leather thong, to keep the assembly from coming apart and deemed the device was ready for a test. Holding the device, he mounted Thunder and laid the metal rings and leather assembly over the horse’s saddle. Claudius watched, fascinated and quietly waited, not wanting to interrupt Marcus with needless questions. “Now Claudius, watch this.” Marcus placed his feet into the straight side of the metal rings, hanging on either side of the saddle, adjusted his balance and stood up. Claudius’ mouth dropped open, and it hit him like a stone axe. “Marcus, that is genius, I see immediately. This could be of great advantage to a warrior on horseback. There are so many possibilities I can’t even begin to imagine them.” “I have nine more sets Claudius. Let’s get some of the men over here to try them out, right away.” It was a revelation, all the testers agreed. The new device was a vast improvement over the old way of using the four saddle horns, of the standard cavalry saddle, to position the body of the rider. It gave the rider something he had never had before, a stable platform to stand upright and position his body to his best advantage and have his hands free. Marcus beamed as man after man came forward, tried the device and accepted it. Each man patted Marcus on the back in congratulations for a superior idea. “Marcus, what are you going to call the new device,” one of the men asked? “I don’t know,” he said, pausing, scratching his head. Thinking on it for a moment he said, “By the Gods, lets call them what they are. From now on they shall be known as ‘Booster Rings’.” It wasn’t hard to get Septimus involved in the adventure and soon each member of the Wolf Pack, including its leaders, had a set of Booster Rings strung across his saddle. There were some minor modifications to the original design, but for the most part, they were minimal changes. The only drawback was the artillery tribune complained that too much of his spare iron rod had been appropriated and how was he going to repair a catapult or scorpion, if one of them broke? The tack orderly for the Eleventh complained equally as loud about his shortage of leather. Septimus took full responsibility, and calmed all the complainers, judging, any shortages created would be well worth the advantages gained. Equite training now proceeded in earnest. The riders, with their newfound tool, easily passed through all phases of the horsemanship drills that Marcus coached. One evening Marcus and Claudius having their usual campfire discussion, agreed that the Wolf Pack had indeed become a team, or more accurately, a family supporting each other for the common good. The two men also took this time to form an action plan for the fast approaching presentation to Caesar. “We have two market intervals left to train Marcus. Is there anything we missed besides the rapid-mount drill? I know you have been saving for last.” “Yes there is Claudius. We need to train to a marshalling signal.” “You’re right Marcus, I alluded to this when I spoke to Caesar initially. Do you have anything in mind?”

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“At the moment no, but we have to devise a way to signal the horses to regroup, when we have to dismount, and then come to retrieve us. I thought about a bugle call but they could become confused by a Roman bugle or even by an enemy bugle. We can teach them to go and come using the same signal, after all, they are only responding to get a reward. I just have to think of a suitable signal.” Marcus had noticed one of the soldiers constantly whittling. One day, he approached the man. “Herilitus, your training goes well, does it not?” “Yes sir, it does. You have taught us well. I have learned much under your tutelage.” “Thank you Herilitus I appreciate your praise. I was wondering about something. I often see you whittling. You must enjoy it as a pass time?” “Yes sir, my uncle taught me. He was a Shepard and used to fashion excellent whistles to call his dogs.” “Do you have similar skills Herilitus?” “I do sir. Would you like me to make one for you?” “A whistle might be just what we need to signal our horses Herilitus. Do you think you could make a whistle with a very different sound that only the ‘Wolf Pack’ would possess?” “I believe I could sir, although I never made a whistle to call a horse. I have only had success in making whistles to call dogs, but wait, now that I think about it, I have noticed the horse’s ears perk up whenever I try one of my whistles.” “That’s just what I wanted to hear Herilitus. Can you make me fifteen of these whistles, that all sound the same?” “Yes sir, I can. I just need some time to gather all the material and some time to do the carving.” “We can assist you in getting what ever you need but I’m afraid time is against us. I would have you work as quickly as possible. You are relieved of all your duty assignments. I need you to concentrate on making those whistles.” “I will do my best sir.” The day for the marshalling training arrived. The weather was clear and dry. The whistle sound will carry well today, Marcus thought. He and Claudius sat their mounts near the stable tent. The morning muster, run and re-group had all taken place and the two hundred mounted riders gathered around their leaders in eager anticipation to the last phases of their training. Marcus wanted to speak to them prior to its commencement. “Members of the ‘Wolf Pack’,” he began, “Although not the last of your training, today will be a very important part of it. What we do in the next several days, and how well we do it, could save our lives. Your horse has excellent hearing. He can hear things you cannot. He is also an animal of flight. In other words, a horse will run from danger rather than face it. A horse stays alive by relying on that excellent hearing. He hears danger and uses that early warning ability to flee from it. We intend to use the hearing ability your horse possesses, to our advantage. I have in my possession whistles that were fashioned by trooper Herilitus. He did an excellent job. He has given us a valuable tool. I am going to sound one of the whistles and I want you to watch the ears of your horse when I do so.” Marcus did as he had said,

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then addressed one of the men. “Vespatius, what did you horse do when I sounded the whistle?” Marcus had chosen this particular man because of his booming voice. “Sir, I observed my horse’s ears standing straight up and moving to locate the source of the sound.” “Did the rest of you observe the same behavior in your horse?” A murmur of assent rippled through the troop. “If a horse perceives what he hears as a threat he will run away from it. If he perceives it as a benefit, he will seek it out. Today we will teach our horses to come to the whistle signal to receive their benefit. Form your ten squads a goodly distance apart. Each squad leader will have a whistle. He will stand off a distance and sound his whistle. His twenty riders will move to his location. When you arrive at your squad leader’s location you will dismount and give your horse an apple to eat and you will praise him verbally and pat him affectionately each time you do this. There is a wagonload of apples just to the right of the stable tent. Each of you will need six apples to carry out today’s exercise. Tomorrow we will repeat the drill with six more apples. On the third day we will try the drill with no apples. Your horse should be sufficiently trained by then, to seek his reward. Remember to heap much praise and physical affection on your animal, as he accomplishes what you wish of him. Soldiers hold, before you begin, there is another instruction you must remember to follow.” Claudius could see all eyes turn toward Marcus. “This evening before you retire for the night, walk your horse in the far meadow, the one farthest away from the stable tent. Apples go through a horse fairly quickly and it has always been true that, apples coming out of a horse are much less pleasant than apples going into a horse, and all that fertilizer, will be better in the meadow than in your sleeping area. That is all for now soldiers. Squad leaders report to me to get your whistles.” The men were still chuckling and joking as the squad leaders received their whistles and gathered their squads. Claudius was also chuckling as he approached Marcus. “Marcus, I’m going to take a ride over to see Septimus. I must present our demonstration plan to Caesar through him. I shouldn’t be very long. What are you going to do?” “I’m just going to intervene where I see the need Claudius, although I think our twenty squad leaders have a good idea of what I had in mind. I shall see you at camp later tonight.” That night Claudius and Marcus had their usual meeting after the evening meal. The night carried a slight chill but the campfire chased it away as the two friends chatted in its warming glow. “Are you satisfied with the progress we have made so far Claudius?” “I am Marcus. We have an exceptional group of men here. They are skilled with sword, spear and bow. They can apply these weapons on foot or from the back of a horse and thanks to you; they are all skilled riders who love their animals. When I compare them to ordinary legionnaires, our men stand head and shoulders above them. Only the heat of a battle will tell us how good they really are, but I believe they will give a good account of themselves. When will we graduate them Marcus?”

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“Two more days of marshalling training should be sufficient. The quick-mount, in full battle dress, will be the final test. If they pass that test it will boost their confidence so much that anything beyond it will seem like child’s play. You see my reasoning on this?” “I do Marcus and I agree. After quick-mount they will be confident. That will be the ideal time to develop some basic maneuvers for Caesar. I talked with Septimus and based on that conversation, I have devised some simple plans.” “Can you share them with me Claudius”? “Of course Marcus, of course I can. I also want to know what you think; after all, you are my second in command. We will practice four separate maneuvers, which have been submitted to Caesar. He will decide which one we execute” “That’s an excellent idea Claudius, let Caesar choose. Yes, yes it’s a perfect strategy, go on.” “Here are the choices. We will use colored pennants for an attack signal from the command location. An attack on the enemy right flank will be signaled by a yellow pennant, an attack on the left flank a green pennant, an attack on both flanks simultaneously, signaled by a red pennant, and last but not least, an attack from the rear a white pennant.” “Septimus’ experience in the choices must have been invaluable Claudius.” “It was Marcus. There probably isn’t any battle situation that Septimus hasn’t seen, over the span of his long military career.” “So once we are signaled what then Claudius?” “Then we attack and it is up to me or to you whether we fight on foot or from horseback. If on foot, the horses will be given a whistle and marshaled a safe distance from the battle. Another whistle signal would bring the horses back to the fray. Each rider would remount his horse and regroup and reform, at a safe location. I think we should instill a standard in the men, starting now. No man, or horse, which is still alive, will be left behind, in a battle. This should be the responsibility of every member of the ‘Wolf Pack’ and is a code we will live by. We will practice rescue drills along with our battle drills so each man feels secure in knowing that he will not be abandoned. Does any of this sound like it’s beyond our troop Marcus”? “I agree with you wholeheartedly and I believe it is all achievable Claudius. I have a great deal of faith in our men and they will abide by a code if we instill it in them.” “Good Marcus, I knew you would say that. Now, when do we commence the quick-mount drill you do so well?” “Why not tomorrow Claudius?” “Indeed, why not tomorrow? Tomorrow it is then. Oh Marcus, I have been looking forward to this for some time.” The exceptional good weather the trainees had been enjoying continued, as the day again, dawned bright and clear. The assembled troop, wearing tunics only, as instructed, stood by their mounts ready to observe what Marcus was about to do. He performed the quick-mount flawlessly as he and Thunder passed before the assemblage at a full gallop. Marcus made a large sweeping circle, at a trot, and reined up in front of the troop and addressed them from horseback. “Men, you will soon learn to do what you have just witnessed. Do not fear what lies ahead. Your training and conditioning has brought you to this point. Your new friend

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won’t let you down. I want every man to mount his horse.” The troop all mounted and sat their horses waiting for Marcus’ instructions. “You are all accomplished riders. If you were not, you would not be here. Listen to my instructions and follow them by letting your instincts guide you. I want you all to take ten deep breaths with your eyes closed.” Marcus paused for a time to let the men take their breaths. “Now with your eyes still closed, visualize yourself doing exactly what you just saw me do, just moments ago. In your mind’s eye, put your horse where mine was, put your body where mine was, see yourself take the running start, holding onto the saddle post and imagine, it is you, vaulting up into the saddle. Repeat those series thoughts until I say to stop.” Marcus looked around him, turning slowly until he had observed each man with his eyes closed, reliving the event in his own imagination. All was very quiet. Even the horses stood still, seeming to sense the serenity of the moment. When he sensed the time was right, Marcus continued speaking. “Now soldiers, open your eyes, and do this, speak softly and directly into your horse’s ear and tell him what you are about to do and ask for his help in doing it. When you have done this, form into your assigned squadrons and commence the exercise. We shall start slowly by vaulting into the saddle with your horse standing still; just to get the feeling of the motion. Do this three times. On the forth try, move your horse at a walk or slow trot. You can see where I am going with this. When you feel comfortable to take the drill to its highest level, feel free to do so. If you decide to keep that final attempt until tomorrow, you may do so, but by tomorrow, you must have at least attempted the drill at a full gallop. The day after tomorrow we will assemble with full weapons and armor and continue performing the drill until I am satisfied that you are adept at it. This is the last phase of our training. Passing this test makes you a full fledged member of the ‘Wolf Pack’ of the Tenth Legion, the most elite fighting force in the Roman army and perhaps, the best fighting force in the entire world!” At this point in the instruction, Marcus raised his fist and elicited a thunderous cheer, from the two hundred. Claudius, along with the ten squad leaders, had mastered the feat, of the quick mount, some five days earlier, under Marcus’ personal instruction. Claudius and Marcus ambled among the drilling squads watching carefully as each individual ultimately accomplished the feat, and soon, they all had, to a man. “You have taught them well Marcus. The men have a great deal of confidence in their ability on horseback, and that is directly due to you. Well done my friend, well done.” “Many of the men have been practicing on their own and were able to do the quick-mount well before today Claudius. I didn’t discourage that extra effort at all. I felt if a man was willing to put in the time to learn, it would be to our benefit and allow us more time spent with those that didn’t learn it as quickly.” “Your logic has proven true Marcus. The troop is well ahead of the schedule I had allotted for learning the quick-mount. We can use the extra time to prepare our demonstration for Caesar.” The next several days were spent polishing the four maneuvers Claudius had outlined to Marcus. They even stationed one of the cooks to act as Aquilifer and wave an appropriately colored pennant.

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The troop soon learned to perform any of the maneuvers with speed and precision. They also drilled on foot, attacking an imaginary enemy, in the event that Caesar wanted a total capability demonstration. That evening, at their campfire, Claudius asked Marcus,” Well my friend, do you think we are ready to present our case to the great man, for his stamp of approval?” Marcus looked at Claudius and a slow confident smile spread over his face. He nodded, as he said most emphatically, “We are ready Claudius.” “I agree Marcus, we are ready. Two days from now we will have our graduation ceremony. Each man will be presented one of these,” he said, holding up a silver wolf fang, on a leather thong, much like his own. “Compliments of Caesar,” he said. “It is magnificent Claudius, simple yet beautiful. The men will be greatly honored I think.” “It was Caesar’s idea and as usual he followed through with his promise, two hundred and fifty of these were delivered yesterday, by special courier. You will receive one also old friend. I already have mine as you know.” “There is another surprise Marcus.” “You don’t mean that Caesar is going to present the men with their awards do you?” Claudius laughed and nodded, “Yes, the great man himself will present each wolf with his silver fang.” “This is a rare event Claudius. The men will be able to tell this story to their children and grand children and they in turn will pass it on for generations to come. The men have worked very hard for three months. It is a fitting reward for their efforts.” Looking at Claudius slightly askew Marcus asked, “There is something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there, Caesar wants us to do the test maneuvers at the graduation ceremony doesn’t he?” “Yes Marcus and only a brother can see through a brother as you do through me. I didn’t want to tell you when I was informed of it. I didn’t want you to worry about the test and cloud your mind with it. I wanted you to be only concerned with the training and its completion. Please forgive me. I promise I will never withhold information from you again.” “Forget it Claudius, however, I would like you to feel very guilty about the sleep I will lose tonight and on the eve of the graduation. We must rise very early that day to prepare.” They were both laughing as they settled into their bedrolls to get a little rest. The troop was well prepared. All the armor, and helmets, had been polished, all the leather had been oiled and the horses had been groomed until their coats glistened in the early light. The wooden training weapons had been replaced by real ones. All was in readiness. Thinking only of the task at hand, the demonstration of their skills before Caesar, the men thought little of their graduation and had absolutely no idea that Caesar was to present them with their new insignia. Although the day was expected to be sunny, it arrived with a crispness of the air that hinted at the arrival of fall. The men had eaten a full breakfast, seen to their horses and now stood before Claudius and Marcus mounted at parade assembly. Ten squadrons of twenty each, in full battle dress, totally prepared for war.

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Everyone was nervous. You could see it in their faces and in their mannerisms. The raw emotion was also sensed by the horses and they displayed an animal nervousness of their own. Even Marcus and Claudius both experienced the butterflies in the stomach that every human experiences at one time or another, when they are about to display something they have learned to authority. “Call them to attention Marcus, I wish to speak to them before we commence our exercises.” A simple hand signal was all that was needed and the two hundred pairs of eyes turned toward Claudius. “Soldiers of Rome, today you become a member of the ‘Wolf Pack’, for that is how we will be known. You are a member of an elite fighting force, especially trained in tactics designed to hit hard, punish and then retreat to hit again. You have trained well. You have done all that we have asked of you. You have my thanks and my respect, for what was asked of you was not easy to accomplish. You have been taught a level of skill that no ordinary legionnaire or cavalryman possesses; because of those extraordinary skills, you will be called upon to do the extraordinary. I know you will not fail in your duty to Rome, to the army and to your unit. To signify your unique status you will be presented with an insignia. This very special award sets you apart and makes you unique. This award is of such a special nature; it will be presented to you personally by a very special person, none other than the commander of the combined legions, Gaius Julius Caesar.” By now the men could see a rolling cloud of dust following an approaching group of riders. Although they were at attention, each man glanced at his neighbor and stood in awe of what as about to happen. “Wear your insignia proudly and with honor soldiers, you have earned it.” As Caesar and his contingent reined in, Claudius gave a salute and loudly voiced “Hail Caesar”. His men responded and two hundred voices thundered, “Hail Caesar. Caesar returned the salute and he and his group dismounted and proceeded to the mess tent, where Claudius had arranged tables and stools for the comfort and refreshment of the dignitaries, including preparations for the award presentations. The ‘Wolf Pack’ was directed to dismount and form ranks; their horses were marshaled a short distance away, responding to the now familiar whistle command, executed by Herilitus. Claudius furnished Caesar with a written list containing the name of each man who was to receive his ‘Wolf Fang’ award. Giving his troop some brief instructions Claudius said, “Soldiers of Rome, when your name is called you will step forward to receive the insignia which will officially make you a member of the ‘Wolf Pack’. Wear it proudly and with honor. After you have received your insignia, return to ranks and remain there for further instructions”. The first recipient was Marcus. He saluted then accepted his insignia and Caesar warmly shook his hand. Caesar also shook the hand of each and every one of the two hundred men, while offering them his congratulations on the successful completion of the training. The senior officers seated at the table, recognized many of their own soldiers and also offered them their congratulations as well. When all the awards had been presented Caesar spoke discreetly to Claudius and mentioned that he would like to address the group as a whole. By now all the men were back in formation and Claudius called them to attention once again. Caesar put the troop at parade rest and began his address.

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“Men of the ‘Wolf Pack’, your experience today, and in the preceding months, has molded you into a new type of soldier. What your leaders have no doubt said to you, I will re-enforce. You are unique. Your training has given you tools no other legionnaire possesses. You are a combination of cavalry and infantry and you can fight as either type of soldier. My intent is to deploy you into the fray wherever you are most needed. Your purpose is to change the course of a battle, if you can. The specialized training you received will help in that effort; but your training is not all that you will need. You will need the heart of a lion. Where I will send you, the enemy will be the strongest. So, I ask you now, are you up to the task?” A slight murmur rose from the troop. “I will ask you again, are you up to the task?” At this second request Caesar’s voice rose to its full volume and seemed to penetrate and transfix every man. The response was a roar from every throat, they were indeed, up to the task. “Use your tools with confidence and bravery for yourself, your troop and for Rome. Teach the enemy that the ‘Wolf Pack’ is to be respected and feared. I know you will not fail.” A rousing cheer rose from the men and only died down when Claudius raised his arms for silence. Speaking directly to Caesar Claudius asked him, “Now that the men have been warmed-up, we are ready for the demonstration. Which plan of attack would you like us to execute general?” “I have made arrangements Claudius. If you will look toward the main camp you will see a cohort of infantry approaching, at the double. I would like your men to execute the red pennant maneuver and to engage on foot as well. Is this acceptable to you?” “It is general. Are there any other instructions?” “Only these, the cohort knows you are coming. Your men will simulate battle conditions and the cohort will do the same. When you engage on foot your men will stop short and bang their swords on their shields and the cohort will do the same. This will signal the end of the combat. While on horseback, your men may simulate battle conditions and use any weapon you wish but always take care to land the weapons just short of actual contact. We don’t want anyone to get accidentally wounded.” “Very well Caesar. Behold your ‘Wolf Pack’.” Claudius conferred briefly with his squad leaders then the whistle signal was given and the horses returned to their riders. Upon mounting, each man rode past the dignitaries and flawlessly performed the quick mount maneuver, then assembled into battle formation. The command for red pennant was given and the troop split into two groups and set off at a full gallop, Claudius at the head of one group and Marcus at the head of the other. The red pennant called for a simultaneous attack on two flanks and now the split troop rapidly closed on the marching cohort. The men strung their bows, notched an arrow and let fly, with the missiles landing just short of their targets, all while steering their horses with the pressure of knees and thighs. After using the bow, another hand signal was given and each troop made another pass at the marchers. This time they grasped their short spears and pretended to launch at the perceived enemy, each rider standing up in his booster rings as he did so. Next came the infantry attack. Each group of one hundred men reined up a short distance from the marching cohort, dismounted, formed a ten man front and charged the cohort flanks simultaneously, banging their swords against their shields as they advanced. The horses were marshaled off at a safe distance to wait. Claudius and Marcus sat their horses to observe and allowed the mock

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battle to continue for a short time. A re-form signal was then given and the two troops formed-up for retrieval of their mounts. A bit of confusion ensued when the horses went to their riders. Two riders actually fell off of their horses. The two men were quickly scooped up by four of their fellow riders and rapidly remounted. In no time, the entire troop was remounted and quickly assembled with Marcus and Claudius, as the rally points. Both troops now formed into one unit and returned, at a gallop, to the tent where Caesar and his officers waited. Claudius and Marcus reined-up at the head of the troop, they dismounted and saluted to the cheers of all the officers in attendance, including Caesar, who seemed to be cheering the loudest of all. “Well done soldiers, well done,” Caesar said. “I have not seen such a display of horsemanship as I have just witnessed. You two are to be commended on your accomplishments with these exceptional riders. If they fight as good as they ride a horse, they will be a formidable foe.” To celebrate, and reward the men, Caesar had arranged for refreshments. When the marching cohort arrived at the mess tent, a wagonload of food and drink was already in place and the stewards had quickly set-up tables filled with a variety of refreshments. It was a holiday for the cohort and the ‘Wolf Pack’. The men enjoyed a cup of wine and their fill of delicious, and to them, extravagant food. Caesar took time, away from the festivities to meet with Claudius and Marcus privately to congratulate them. “Some who were skeptical, of your efforts, were silenced today, but now, they will be watching very closely to see what transpires in an actual battle. I was particularly interested in those rings slung over your men’s saddles. It allowed them to almost stand and launch their weapons. How did you come up with that idea Claudius?” “That would be the genius of my second in command here Caesar. He thought of and developed the idea using his own initiative.” “Marcus, I would like you to see tribune Dobellus. He is the commander of the Eleventh Cavalry troop. He will be very interested in speaking with you about your invention. Could you see to it?” “Yes Caesar it will be my pleasure to contact him as soon as possible.” “Good, good, now as to your duty station. The ‘Wolf Pack’ will have a billet with the Tenth Legion. Break down this camp and reassemble it at the site of your new home. It’s next to the regular cavalry space. Septimus will guide you in that regard. You will have room for weapons training but you will have to do any equestrian training outside the camp, as the cavalry now does. Now I must return to duties too long neglected but before we part I must tell you that you two have done a superb job. What you have accomplished is far beyond my expectations. Keep your men sharp. I sense that the true test of the troop’s abilities is not far off.” That night as the ‘Wolf Pack’ bedded down, in their temporary camp, for the last time, each man including Marcus and Claudius, wondered what fate awaited them as the four Roman legions were being mobilized to penetrate ever deeper into the unknown land of the Gauls.

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Chapter XI Caesar’s Strategies The entire training camp was dismantled. Everyone assisted loading the field equipment and personal gear into waiting wagons. When all this was accomplished, the ‘Wolf pack’ set out to join the main legion camp. Claudius and Marcus waited by the roadside to review the procession, then rode ahead to lead the column. With their horses at a walk, the two friends had a chance to reflect and to chat about the past three months and what might lie ahead for the ‘Wolves’, now that they were trained and ready for action. “I can see you in deep thought Claudius. Is something bothering you about what our role with Caesar?” “It’s not about Caesar Marcus. I am somewhat concerned about our acceptance, by the Tenth legion as a whole.” Marcus blinked his eyes as the meaning of what Claudius had just said sunk in a bit. “I hadn’t thought much about it, but I think I see what you mean Claudius. Here we are an elite fighting unit. Specially trained and honored by the ‘great man’ himself. Yes, you’re right, there will be jealousy and judgment, no doubt of it.” “I think it’s probably a normal reaction Marcus. We do have our detractors and even Caesar himself could be skeptical about our worth. The doubt will hang over us until we can prove ourselves in battle. I pray to the Gods that our first encounter is not a disaster. I have every confidence in our men, but there is no telling what can happen.” “Well Claudius if our ‘blooding’ in battle, is a disaster, we’ll probably both be dead and it won’t mean a hill of beans, now will it?” Claudius looked at his old friend and smiled then broke into a deep belly laugh, which Marcus echoed as he caught the witty humor in his own statement. As the ‘Wolf Pack’ approached the western gate of main camp, those riders closest to the head of the mounted column exchanged glances, with one another and wondered what all the laughter up ahead was about. What looked like a massing of active insects, from afar, turned out to be an army in motion from in-close. The encampment and baggage trains of the four legions covered a vast amount of ground. The terrain undulated so as not to reveal the entire expanse of the army’s encampment, but what they could see was all in motion. “It’s as I expected Marcus. The army is definitely moving out. It would be senseless for us to unpack all of our gear and then have to repack it again. Hold the column here and put them at rest. I’ll find Septimus. He will know our place in the marching order.” When Claudius returned he had a dour look on his face. “Why the long face?” “I was afraid this would happen Marcus. We are to march ahead of the Tenth’s regular cavalry unit. It is a place of honor and Caesar personally ordered it. I guess he wants to show us off!” Marcus groaned with the news. “This will chafe a situation that may already be festering Claudius. It is beyond our control. We have no choice but to follow orders.” The ‘Pack’s’ baggage carts fell in at the rear of the baggage train and no one even noticed. However, when the ‘Wolf Pack’ entered the marching column and maneuvered in front of the regular cavalry troop, the ranks of horsemen erupted with catcalls and

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taunts. “Here they are boys, Caesar’s pets. Ass kissers all. I wonder if they can fight as good as they look?” These were some of the more bearable comments made. There were many others, not so bearable. The Tribune and cavalry officers in charge, just smirked at the diatribes and did little to quiet the troop, but as they covered more distance, the clamor eventually quieted and then died out. “It is as I predicted Marcus. Jealousy has reared its ugly head. I will speak to the men when we camp tonight and tell them we must bear the taunts for now and for the time being. We must hold our discipline and not react to it. Hopefully, over time, the novelty of it will fade and it will stop.” “Our men have worked hard Claudius. It is a shame to have them submit this uncalled for abuse. I hope it doesn’t last too long.” The army covered at least fifteen miles that day. There was only one rest stop at midday. When the order for the final stop had been given, the soldiers were exhausted. The rapid pace had left the baggage train and its escort several miles behind the main army. The two cohorts of foot soldiers, guarding the train, had had to keep pace with their responsibility, so they too were delayed. As Claudius, Marcus and the rest of the ‘Wolf Pack’ were tending to their horses and prepared to pitch camp for the night, a rider approached at a rapid pace and abruptly reined in, so closely to the pair that a shower of pebbles and dirt sprayed over their boots. The rider was a Tribune. High enough in rank for them to know that what he was about to say came from high up. Addressing the two men directly, after salutes were exchanged he said, “Our scouts have reported that there is an attack underway, at this very moment. The baggage train, and its escort are assailed, and in peril of being annihilated. This order comes from Caesar himself. You and your entire troop are to return along our route, at top speed, to reinforce the baggage train escort as quickly as possible. A cohort of cavalry and two cohorts of foot soldiers will be sent to reinforce you. Take whatever steps necessary to defend. Any questions Centurions?” “No sir, your orders are understood. We will leave immediately.” The order to arm and mount-up was given and within as little time as possible, the ‘Wolf Pack’ was thundering back down the road they had just recently traveled. Claudius shouted to Marcus, to be heard above the pounding of the hooves, “When we hear the sounds of the battle we will hold and decide what to do rather than attack with no plan.” Marcus looked at Claudius and nodded his assent. Claudius could see the horses were lathered with sweat and showing signs of tiring. If we don’t get to the action soon, they will be of little use to us, he thought. At the same instant the unmistakable din of battle reached his ears. Claudius gave the signal for a halt and the troop reined up. The horse’s chests were heaving, trying to take in great gulps of air. They stopped on a hilltop with a commanding view of the battle raging below. Claudius quickly assessed the situation. He could detect no enemy cavalry. Part of the baggage train was inside a square of soldiers trying to defend it. More than a third of the two cohorts appeared to be dead or wounded. Those that remained were fighting for their lives. The baggage outside the square and had been abandoned. “Marcus, listen carefully and do exactly as I say. Split the force and attack on the enemy right and left flanks simultaneously. Ride back and forth along the flanks and

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expend all of your missiles and make a lot of noise doing it. When you have exhausted all your missiles, try to fight your way to the center of the square with sword and shield. Once inside, dismount and fight on foot and reinforce the ranks as best you can. I will take ten men with me. We will try to find the leaders and rout or at least disrupt them. Is it clear Marcus?” “Yes Claudius, it’s clear. We will do our best. May the Goddess Fortuna be with you.” Claudius selected his ten men and broke away, at a gallop. “Wolves’, you heard the command, red pennant. Felix you lead left and I will go right. Make your weapons count. Now, let’s create some havoc. Howl like the wolves that you are.” Claudius headed for high ground hoping to spot any mounted groups set apart from the main enemy army, which appeared to number in the thousands. The light was fading fast but suddenly, to his left, Claudius could see a group of mounted men. One of them stood out from the rest; he was dressed in white robes riding a pure white horse. Claudius waved his men forward, accelerated to top speed and the ‘Wolves’ were upon the unsuspecting contingent of Gauls before they realized what was happening. “Launch your weapons for effect,” Claudius shouted, above the noise of the battle. The enemy group was perhaps twenty strong. The men all wore long cloaks and had the characteristic long flowing beards of the Gauls. Four went down with the first volley of spears and arrows. The Gauls didn’t run or scatter. To a man, they turned to face their attackers. With little or no space to launch weapons the Wolves drew their swords and a series of pitched battles, with men on horseback, commenced. Claudius sought out the man mounted on the white horse and attacked. Two men intercepted him and Claudius ducked under a blow, aimed at his head, and buried his sword into the man’s upper body. The second bodyguard was soon engaged by Lucius, Claudius’ second in command. Claudius pulled his sword free and turned his attention to the man on the white horse. He was dueling furiously with another one of the ‘Wolves’ and was clearly the superior combatant. He moved with surprising quickness, thrust his long sword just under the man’s guard, and stuck down the hapless Roman. Claudius rode at white horse, striking right and left to clear a path. Suddenly they were face to face. The huge Gaul with a long flowing beard and equally long moustache, a white fur lined cloak and a pair of murderous eyes, holding a long Gallic sword newly stained with Roman blood. He was such a large man, his legs hung down the side of the horse almost touching the ground. He needs a bigger horse, Claudius thought. The Gaul growled a deep guttural sound. Claudius had no doubt the Gaul said something close to “Die Roman” and then he charged. Claudius had already retrieved his shield from Aphrodite’s flank and he took the heavy blow with a loud clang. The size of the man matched the force of the blow and his sword cut deeply into the top edge of Claudius’ shield. This man could cleave me in two with one of those blows Claudius thought. The huge Gaul made another run at Claudius, this blow glancing off the top of Claudius’ shield. It was then Aphrodite saved Claudius’ life. The Gallic chieftain drew back to launch another blow, he was grinning from ear to ear, knowing his long sword

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and superior strength, had Claudius at a severe disadvantage. Claudius drew his knees together and Aphrodite lunged forward, her chest crashing into the startled mount of the equally surprised Gaul. The horse reared up, pawing the air, the man almost sliding from the saddle. As the Gaul tried to regain his balance, Claudius lunged forward putting the point of his sword into the throat of his adversary. Blood spurted from the wound and turned the white cloak to red. The huge Gaul fell from his horse and crashed to the ground, the white horse bolting away in fear. At almost the same instant, a bugle from the enemy ranks sounded three long blasts. The thousands of Gallic warriors disengaged from the hand-to-hand combat and began to melt into the darkness of the nearby forests. “Do you want us to pursue sir,” one of his men asked Claudius? “No do not pursue, get inside the square and re-group. They could hit us again. Gather survivors and secure as much of our baggage as we can.” Claudius, and the survivors in his party, rode into the center of the square virtually unopposed. Once inside, it became apparent that the enemy had completely broken off the engagement. He dismounted and looked for Marcus, amidst the confusion that prevailed, now that the enemy threat had vanished. He found him looking after the members of the ‘Wolf Pack’ to see who had survived and what condition they were in. When the two men caught sight of each other, it was with a shared sense of relief. They had come through the action unscathed. “Fortuna still favors us Claudius,” Marcus said, as the two men laughed and embraced. Two of the escort centurions, still alive, approached Claudius and Marcus, thumping them on the back, voicing their praise. “We owe you our lives. Thank you troopers, whoever you are.” “We are Caesar’s ‘Wolf Pack’, Claudius said, loudly and emphatically, “Perhaps you’ve heard of us?” “Why yes, yes we have heard of you,” replied one of the Centurions, “And I assure you, after what happened here today, the army shall know of your skill and most of all, your bravery.” At this moment, the arriving cavalry cohort sent by the army garnered everyone’s attention as they galloped in and reined up. “Who’s in command here?” barked a Tribune, dismounting from his sweating horse. “I guess we are,” answered Claudius, gesturing to his fellow officers. “I am Tribune Portilinus. We were ordered here by central command. There are two cohorts of foot soldiers right behind us. Is this some sort of joke? We were told you were under attack.” One of the Centurions spoke up, “Sir, if I may, my name is Marcellus Pudo and you are correct. We were under attack until these brave lads came on their horses, killed the leader of the Gauls and helped to send the rest of those heathens scurrying back to the trees.” “Is this true,” the Tribune said, directing his question to Marcus and Claudius? Each man looked at the other, a little self consciously, and Marcus replied saying, “Yes sir, I believe that about describes it except the escort troops, including these brave officers did exactly the right thing to stave off annihilation even though being greatly outnumbered. The drivers and baggage train personnel also took up arms to hold off the

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enemy. Many brave men died and many were wounded. It is not fair to say the ‘Wolf Pack’ saved the day. It is more accurate to say we helped save the day.” Marcus stole a glance at Claudius and the other officers and they were nodding their heads in agreement to what he had just said. “Very well. I shall report this action to central command as you have stated it. Now, everyone take charge of your men. Gather your dead and see to your wounded. When the foot cohort arrives we shall return to the army by forced march tonight. It is not safe to here. We will move out in one hour or less. Now, see to it as I ordered.” The ‘Wolf Pack’ was given the rear guard detail and as they led the column, Marcus and Claudius were once again side-by-side at its head. “Well Claudius, that conversation we had earlier, regarding jealousy in the legion, has lost its significance, wouldn’t you say?” “You are right Marcus, it has. Its amazing what can happen in one day to change your entire perspective on your situation.” The troopers close behind Marcus and Claudius looked at each other, in the pre-dawn darkness. What are those two laughing about now, they wondered? The rescue of the baggage train, and its escort, had a profound effect on the entire army, especially on the Tenth legion. The jeers and catcalls disappeared and were replaced by accolades. The sarcasm gave way to humorous comments, as any soldier knows, signifies respect. In other words, the ‘Wolf Pack’ had been accepted. There were also awards from Caesar and his senior staff. Marcus and Claudius were now invited to all strategy sessions, in the command tent, where they were expected to give the status of the ‘Wolf Pack’ and whether or not they could execute what the command staff, and especially Caesar, expected of them. This expectation of performance increased as the elite fighting troop piled up its successes. After the baggage train action, the men began howling like wolves whenever they saw action against the enemy. This seemed to strike fear into the hearts of the Gauls. Many of the men had taken to wearing the head and skin of a wolf, with the hollowed-out head, of the creature, over their helmets and the forelegs of the hide draped over their shoulders and tied across their chests. The wolf skin became coveted as a special internal troop award for bravery and quick thinking. The most outstanding warrior, in a particular action was given ‘The Skin’, as it was called, in a private ceremony open only to ‘Wolf Pack” members. Claudius allowed this practice and even encouraged it. He realized that an award from ones fellow soldiers was more highly prized than a silver Phalera awarded by the legion. Claudius was also the first recipient of ‘The Skin’, for his action against the Gallic chieftain at the rescue of the baggage train. It was later discovered that the leader, who Claudius thought was a chief, was actually a Druid priest, explaining why the battle had ended so suddenly when the man fell. Druids were thought to be sacred beings and it was the worst of omens, when one was killed. Caesar had also commissioned Claudius and Marcus to begin training another two hundred men. His plan, as he outlined it to Claudius, was to put Marcus in charge of this next group, which was to be modeled after the original. Claudius was to name a second in command, as was Marcus. Claudius picked Lucius. He had proven to be fearless, cool under pressure and most of all, a natural leader.

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Marcus also chose one of his favorites, Herilitus, of the whistle, as his second incommand. The weather was turning much colder now as winter approached. The army took steps to settle in and erect its well-fortified winter camp. The camp made a square that covered two miles on a side and in the middle, surrounded by the four legions, stood the command tent of Caesar. Claudius and Marcus would spend a good deal of time in that tent, in the coming months, as Caesar had ambitious plans for the coming spring. The next major campaign was to be against the Helvetii. This tribe lived in the valley of the river Rhone and numbered in the hundreds of thousands. It was the largest of the Gallic tribes and was very influential in how the Gauls dealt with the Romans. The winter months were spent in preparations to meet and defeat them. There were many comings and goings of strange looking envoys conferring with Caesar, as he gathered intelligence. A great many Roman coins changed hands to keep the flow of information coming. Caesar wanted to know the names of the tribal chieftains, how many men they commanded, how they fought, what they feared, who or what they worshipped, even what they ate. This last item, food, was critically, important. Feeding an army in the field was a challenge for any commander. As a rule, the army was supplied by caravans from Rome, arriving by way of Italian Gaul: but as the army moved ever further from those supply routes, the supplies slowed to a trickle and then stopped, all together. Without a secure supply route, the danger of starvation loomed threateningly. At least one, and ideally two, supply routes had to be established and kept open. The Helvetii had been known to lay in wait for Roman supply trains, ambush them, kill all the escorts and baggage handlers and make off with the precious supplies. The ultimate plan was to conquer the Helvetii, destroy their villages and sell all captives to the slavers. This would put a stop to the thievery and set a lasting example of what could happen to any tribe who coveted Roman goods. It was also known that the Helvetii allowed German raiding parties, from the North, to cross their lands, unmolested, and attack neighboring tribes, such as the Aedui and the Lingones. Caesar hoped to form alliances with these smaller victim tribes, knowing that their help would insure victory against the Helvetii. Marcus and Claudius had been actively recruiting and training to have the second ‘Wolf Pack’ ready for deployment in the spring campaign. Much of what they had done, in their previous training regimens, was repeated and that prior knowledge aided the current effort immensely. Their fame had spread throughout the army, furnishing them with a limitless supply of good stout men to choose as recruits. Claudius turned several of his top men into instructors and Marcus did the same. As the winter snows melted and the rivers began to flow free of ice, the new ‘Wolf Pack’, under Marcus’ command emerged. All recruits were seasoned veterans and soon became ‘Wolves’. Four hundred elite warriors were trained and ready. “We are his child after all Marcus. He gave us birth, weaned us, and now we serve his ambitions, just as any good Roman son would do for his tata.”

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“Is that such a bad thing Claudius? I mean, after all, we did join the army to hide and to fight. We aren’t in prison and the fighting is on-going, and besides, who better to fight for than the supreme commander himself, eh?” “Ah Marcus, you are right again, as usual, my friend. You take my concerns and cover them with a blanket of logic to warm them. What would I ever do without you?” As the Roman army advanced into the heart of Gaul, the ‘Wolf Pack’ lived up to its reputation. Battle after battle, skirmish after skirmish, they excelled in bravery, daring and most of all, victory. In the evenings, around the campfires, of the four legions, men spoke of their exploits and marveled at them. The Gallic tribes, whoever they happened to be, definitely feared the fierce mounted Romans, who could strike at them from a distance or assail them in close handto-hand combat. Those howling madmen sent shivers of fear through the enemy whenever they burst upon the scene. The word spread rapidly through the territory, the ‘Tree Warrior’ was now leading a pack of howling men, clad in wolf skins, who could launch arrows and spears from the backs of swiftly running horses, or dismount and engage you with deadly results. The enemy often ran before facing such an onslaught. Much of the skirmishing, the ‘Wolf Pack’ was involved with, was a result of Caesar trying to isolate the Helvetii, for a decisive battle. Several lesser tribes had tried to militarily resist Caesar’s plan. Two cohorts of troops and the ‘Wolf Pack’ had quickly subdued them. Caesar then cleverly manipulated the remaining tribes promising them relief from the oppression of the Helvetii and also promising them the permanent protection and largess, as an ally of Rome. The mighty Rhone flowed south from Lake Genava, through the lands of the Allobroges, into the southern Roman Province. It entered the sea, at the city of Arelate. The lands of the Helvetii occupied both banks and stretched as far north as the land of the Germans. Not wanting to spend time constructing a bridge over the river, Caesar marched his four legions along the western bank. The evidence of a Helvetii force soon became apparent. On the third day of marching, topping a hill, Caesar beheld a sight that filled him with awe and apprehension. On the east bank of the river was a horde of unimaginable size including an army of one hundred thousand warriors. The mass appeared to be an entire nation of people. Many, many thousands of men, women and children, animals, wagons and makeshift shelters of all kinds, the evidence of which, spread as far as the eye could see. “That would be the entire Helvetii nation,” Caesar remarked to his second in-command. After the encounter, the remainder of the daylight was spent building a fortified camp. Sentries were posted and cavalry patrols were dispatched north and south, to warn of any surprise attack. While the legionnaires labored the Helvetii warriors, jeered and taunted them from across the river, launching an occasional missile in their direction. The Romans installed their own archers. This put a stop to the enemy arrows but the taunts and catcalls continued until nightfall.

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The apprehensive mood carried over into the command tent at the evening’s strategy session. Caesar did not want to alter his original battle plan, but he was open to suggestions on how to ford the river without being slaughtered by the Helvetii waiting on the other side. “We must find a way to cross the river without being vulnerable. We will meet here at first light tomorrow. Bring your suggestions with you. I guarantee, before midday tomorrow, we will have formulated a plan of action.” It was actually Cassius Piso, commander of the Thirteenth, who had the base idea. His idea seemed to stimulate the others to share theirs and Caesar had to moderate the clamor that arose. After filtering those ideas through his mind, Caesar had formulated a plan. “The ‘Wolf Pack’ will scout the west bank to the north. If fortune favors us, a natural ford will be found, or perhaps, one can be created. In the mean time we will commandeer as many boats and rafts as we can lay our hands on. We will modify them to accommodate men and horses. Listen carefully because this is how I plan to defeat the Helvetii. Three legions will deploy silently, under cover of darkness, ford the river, a distance to the north and form up on the east bank in proximity to the enemy. At first light, the three legions will launch an attack. That same night, the Tenth will board boats, cross the river, coordinate with the main force and attack the enemy rear. We must exercise great stealth to disguise our night movement and keep the Gauls thinking we are totally encamped right here. I am hoping they will panic and rush all of their forces to the north. Any questions gentlemen,” Caesar said? All of the officers looked at one another, not really knowing what to say or to afraid to say anything then Lepidus spoke up. “Caesar, you do realize that the success of this plan hinges on the success of the ‘Wolf Pack’? “Yes Lepidus, I am fully aware of that. I also realize that this is a bold plan but boldness wins battles, not timidity and you are all aware that my position is always, fortune favors the bold. Besides, if a suitable ford is not found we can always make another plan.” A ford was found, or better said, was created by an accidental occurrence. The ‘Wolf Pack’ had reconnoitered for roughly five miles upstream, when they came upon a narrowing of the river. “Marcus, if we can get to that high ground, just across the river there”, Claudius said, pointing to an escarpment on the opposite bank, “We can see for miles upriver and perhaps see what we are looking for. Let’s take two men with us, cross the river then leave them as scouts on the opposite bank. I want to make sure the enemy isn’t shadowing us. What do you say, are you up for it?” “I’m not sure Claudius. The river is only about a half mile wide and the double bend it takes has slowed the current considerably, but it looks very deep when you get toward the middle”. Marcus stroked his chin a bit and mentally weighed their chances. “You know Claudius, we are riding two of the strongest horses I have ever seen. Why not then. I think Thunder and Aphrodite are up to the task. Let’s go.” Claudius picked two of his veteran ‘Wolves’ and briefed them on the mission and then instructed the rest of the troop to wait there and relax for a bit but also to keep a wary eye for enemy scouts.

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The four riders threaded their way around some large rocks and paused at the water’s edge to survey the opposite shore. “The water seems shallow enough at both banks Marcus. What we don’t know is how deep the middle is.” “Well Claudius, there is only one-way to find out,” he said, as Thunder bolted forward and plunged into the river. The other three riders followed and they began to make their way across. The water deepened rapidly and then rose over the backs of the horses until only their noses were above water. The riders had to slide off the horse’s backs to allow them to swim. “Grab their tails and they will pull you through the water,” Marcus said. “Don’t try to guide them, let them find their own way.” Marcus’ advice proved to be sound and all four made it across the river safely. After the crossing, they let the horses rest for a time, re-mounted and climbed the horses up the steep slope of the escarpment. When they reached the summit they discovered a commanding view of the river, for miles in each direction, as it wound its way through the valley. They could just barely make out the camps of the Helvetii, with its thousands of smoky fires, but they could not discern the Roman camp from this distance. Looking north, the river straightened out and then widened again, after the double bend at their current position. “I can see white water to the north of us Claudius and then the river returns to its full width. We can’t ford over rapids and where the river widens out, the water appears to be quite deep. It looks as though we will have to go much further north to find our ford.” “I don’t know Marcus. Even if we do find a crossing, beyond, I’m sure it will be to far away to aid Caesar in his plan. Alright, let’s go back across the river and we’ll head back to camp and make our report.” The group started slowly down the steep slope, and Claudius reined Aphrodite in so suddenly, she snorted in protest. “Sorry girl,” he said, patting her neck affectionately. “What popped into your head Claudius?” “I may be crazy, but this is it.” “This is what, old friend?” “This is the crossing point for the three legions.” “Claudius, the legions would take forever to cross here. The deep water, the steep bank! It would be very difficult and consume a lot of time. If the enemy hit us while we were crossing, we could end up in a bad situation.” “Come back down to the river bank and I will show you”. When the group returned to the water’s edge Claudius said, “Now, look up.” The three still had a puzzled look on their faces. “Look up at the escarpment, notice its height and the huge mass of dirt and rock contained in it and now, imagine that huge mass of earth sliding down and filling the river.” Marcus was stunned, “Claudius, that is genius. Diggers could undermine that escarpment and the entire hill would fall into the river. It would create a shallow and the army could ford easily. The river may eventually wash all of the fill away but it would remain there long enough for the three legions to cross.” “Plitus, re-cross the river and ride with all the speed you can muster and tell Caesar we have found a way to cross the river. Also tell him to muster a thousand men with picks, shovels and buckets. There will be a need for them,” Claudius said.

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The Romans didn’t start digging immediately, but the master plan was put into action. Caesar rode to the ford location site to inspect it personally and agreed that the task, although formidable, could be accomplished. “Three legions would have to be positioned to cross the moment the earth moved but, it will work,” Caesar said, emphatically. “Well done Claudius and Marcus and now that we have our crossing site, we can execute the remainder of our plan.” The next several days were spent gathering as many water craft as possible. Caesar wanted the enemy to think he was crossing his entire army by boat. Scouting parties, scoured the watershed, north and south. They were able to locate over one hundred boats and rafts of every imaginable shape and size. All were commandeered and the owners were assured of their safe return, some time in the future. The legionnaires set to building crude rafts, from logs out of the surrounding forest and were large enough to ferry up to ten riders and mounts. The ferrying phase of the assault was also critical. It required sending teams of swimmers across the river, under cover of darkness. One man, on each team, was to have a light rope attached to his body and swim the breadth of the river. Once they achieved the opposite bank, the teams were to haul a much heavier rope across and fasten it securely to a strongly embedded object. The heavier rope was to minimize drifting as the rafts were pulled across. The plan called for twenty of these ropes to be fastened and concealed under the water until such time as they were needed. This phase of the plan could only work if the swim teams went undetected. To insure secrecy, a century of foot soldiers was to cross, in advance of the rope teams, to scour the banks along landing site and eliminate any interference from the enemy. “This is the weak link in the chain of the plan,” Caesar stated, in the command tent. “If anyone can think of a better way to insure secrecy, please speak out.” No one could, so, the final details were spelled out, responsibilities assigned and agreed upon. “We must assume that the enemy will be unaware of our plan,” Caesar said. “We must also assume that the enemy is aware of our plan, although I don’t believe they could set a trap for us, that our scouts couldn’t detect; but, as you know, fortune must favor us, and I believe she will. Today the entire army will drill in full view of the enemy. We will drill until darkness falls. Only the Tenth will return to camp. The other three legions, with buckets and shovels, will make their way to the crossing site and commence the excavation work. The three legions will cross the river, as soon as possible, and be in position to attack the enemy camp at first light. Also at night, the cavalry will cross first and then the Tenth will follow. The two forces will join up and attack the enemy from the rear. This should thoroughly confuse them and give us a victory. Before this venture commences, let me say this. No one, including myself, can think of every occurrence and plan for it, especially in an operation of this complexity. However, the command staff, standing before me, inspires my utmost confidence. We are the greatest army in the world, with the very best commanders directing it. I am sure you will deal with any and all contingencies that arise, and in the end, we will prevail. Now, if there are no more questions, there is much work to do. You are dismissed.” The four separate camps had been rife with rumors for days and were beehives of activity. Everyone knew his place and what his duties were. The activity, although heavy,

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was in an orderly fashion. The enemy, camped across the river, would have had to observe very closely, to see anything out of the ordinary taking place. Claudius and Marcus exited the command tent together, chatting about the upcoming events. “Think about it Claudius, Caesar needs a ford and we find one, his idea about forming an elite strike force is born and here we are, and quite successful at that. I am beginning to believe he is favored by the Gods.” “I have to agree Marcus. There are dozens of stories of his fabled luck. Too many for coincidence. “Well my friend, I hope his luck holds on this particular venture. I look at that horde across the river and my blood runs cold,” Marcus said. The three legions deployed just after nightfall and headed toward the site of the crossing. All the campfires were lit, just as though the missing legions were still there. All noncombatants were dispersed throughout the camp and were ordered to keep up a high level of activity. No easy task when trying to compensate for fifteen thousand missing troops. The night was overcast allowing only very brief glimpses of the moon as the clouds passed. The assemblage, for the crossing, was mostly done in complete darkness. The ‘Wolf Pack’ would land first, four hundred men and horses. Their orders were to patrol the banks up and down the river, set up a perimeter of defense and move, if necessary, to protect the landing troops until they could gain enough of a foothold to protect themselves. If hostiles were encountered they were to hold as long as possible until reinforcements arrived. The current was strong as Claudius, and nine of his riders, boarded the first raft to cross. He could feel the pull of it and noticed that the horses seemed troubled by the unfamiliar movement. The men steadied their horses by speaking softly to them, just as Marcus had taught them. They pushed off into the swift current, the pole men straining to push the heavy load through the water. Once out in the stream the horses seemed to settle down a bit. Their raft was being steered by a crude rudder arrangement and also pulled by one of the teams on the opposite bank. The going was slow but the cumbersome craft slowly made its way toward the opposite shore. Claudius knew that as the collection of soldiers, across the river grew, more hands would aid in the effort and the subsequent crossings would probably go more swiftly than this, but now, with only two men towing, the raft veered widely and came dangerously close to the neighboring raft. Quick action by some of the ‘Wolves’ helped the pole men to regain control and they continued their forward progress. It seemed like an eternity but they made it across. Often, the rafts and their passengers were visible, in full moonlight. Claudius expected a barrage of arrows to come whizzing out of the darkness, but they never came. Soon the clouds passed over the moon and the darkness descended once again. He strained his eyes trying to peer into the darkness but could see little or nothing. Suddenly Claudius felt the raft scrape bottom and they were across and into the shallows near the river’s edge. The gangway was lowered and the ten riders quickly ushered their mounts down the ramp onto dry land. Claudius spoke briefly to the two men

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hauling the raft and asked them if they had seen anyone? They said they hadn’t. He praised them for their bravery and left two men to help them pull the next raft across. Other rafts were now landing. Claudius could just make out the figure of Marcus leading Thunder into the shallow water, just down river. Each member of the ‘Wolf Pack’, ashore, now pulled four gunnysacks, and cord, from his tunic. They muffled their horse’s hooves and re-mounted. Claudius led them up the bank to scout the area around the landing site, instructing them to be silent and only speak if it was absolutely necessary. By this time, the empty rafts were already returning for another load of horsemen. The ‘Wolf Pack’ cautiously forged ahead into the darkness. The going was slow. Very little light, no road, just the upward slope of the riverbank, some dense shrubbery. Suddenly, they were in a meadow. Pre-arranged signals were given and Marcus took his men and headed down river while Claudius headed in the opposite direction. The first streaks of the coming dawn reddened the eastern sky. Claudius caught the frantic hand signal of one of his men and rode over to see what the man wanted. “What is it, why are you gesturing?” “Over there sir”, the soldier said, pointing to a wooded outcrop. “Heard some laughing and giggling coming from over there.” Claudius thought for a moment, “You’re Bitunus, are you not?” “Yes sir, that’s me.” “Alright Bitunus, take two men and go on foot. Investigate what it is then report back, and mind you, do not raise the alarm. The three men returned leading two struggling, half naked people, a young man and a young woman. They were gagged and their hands were tied behind their backs. “Two lovers coupling in that mossy glade over there sir. Looks like Gauls to me. Want me to slit their throats sir?” Claudius could see the stark terror in the eyes of the pair increase as they realized who their captors were. I should kill them to insure their silence, Claudius thought, but indeed, I cannot. “No don’t kill them. Just find a tree, tie them securely to it, gag them and leave them. This may all be over in a few hours and many will die. There is no need to kill these two.” “But sir, if they were to escape, they could bring the Gauls down around our ears.” “I am well aware of that Bitunus. If you bind them very securely, they will not escape. Now do as you have been ordered.” “Yes sir,” Bitunus said, sauntering off with his charges, scowling and muttering as he made his way to the stand of trees. Dawn broke with the sun peeking over the eastern hills. Then he heard it. A great roar from thousands of distant throats and the crash of metal against metal, body against body, weapons striking shields, the sounds mixing with the screams of the dying. It wafted over the plain like a rolling thunder and it went on and on and there was no sound like it. The battle has commenced Claudius thought. The ‘Wolves’ had encountered no resistance in their foray along the riverbank. As previously ordered, they now returned to the main rally point forming up with the Tenth legion and the regular cavalry, south and east of the river.

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The anxiety mounted, as time passed, each man yearning to know how the battle fared against the numerically superior Helvetii. “It looks as though Caesar’s luck has held Claudius. We have seen no enemy soldiers and the battle is definitely joined. I believe the enemy have no idea we are at their backs.” “It would seem so”, Claudius replied. “Let’s be vigilant, just the same, and be prepared for a turn of events.” The One legion army, and cavalry, proceeded forward at double time, straight toward the battle site. Cohort after cohort, moving almost as one man, at the double, gobbling up the distance toward the rear of the unsuspecting enemy. The cavalry and the ‘Wolf Pack’, heading toward the enemy were the first to actually engage. Claudius could see the stunned look of the enemy as they turned to face this new horror. He could see the naked fear in their eyes, as they realized that somehow the Romans had gotten behind them. The attack from the rear broke the back of the Helvetii. When they realized they were caught in a vise, between two armies, thousands discarded their weapons and fled the field. The Helvetii soldiers stumbling and colliding with the fleeing civilians created a massive jumble of people, animals and humans, all desperate to get away from the marauding Romans. The cavalry, previously ordered so by Caesar, pursued and slaughtered thousands of the enemy as they ran away, littering the battlefield with Helvetii dead, for miles. The rout was complete. The undisciplined Helvetii were no match for the Roman military machine that rolled over them. They put up a valiant effort but the victory for the Romans was never in doubt. As Caesar had correctly guessed, the Helvetii had no inkling that the attack was coming. The enemy dead were estimated at sixty thousand, the Roman dead and wounded at slightly more than a thousand. Caesar’s plan had worked almost to perfection. The officers and men cheered him as he surveyed the battlefield on the back of ‘Toes’. “Hail Caesar”, they shouted, the chant, magnified by so many human throats, echoed across the fields. That evening the command tent was jubilant. Caesar served un-watered wine to celebrate the victory and to honor his officers and men for a job well done. Then Caesar spoke briefly as a follow-up to the day’s action. “Comrades in battle, I raise my cup to you. This decisive victory will reverberate all the way to Rome. It will help to loosen the purse strings of the senate so we may continue this campaign. Those Helvetii, who have survived, will be sold into slavery. This, of course, also fills the coffers of the treasury and silences those critics who thought that this campaign was a fool’s errand. It is hard to deny Rome her due when it comes to conquest. There is one last bit of business before I release you to join your men in celebration. It seems some of the Helvetii leaders have escaped. They have managed to collect enough stragglers to raise a small army of resistors. German mercenaries have also joined them. We will erase this new army so that the Helvetii will no longer be a threat to our supply lines, or to the tribes bordering their lands. This final action will also send a very emphatic message to the Germans regarding the fate of those who ally against Rome. But enough for today, you and your troops may rest and revel a bit. Tomorrow I will have a plan to deal with this upstart army, now that is all gentlemen, you are dismissed.

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The strategy session, to complete the conquest of the Helvetii, did not take place the next day, nor for many days after. In that passage of time there was much activity in and around the command tent. Much of it concerned the sale of slaves. The remainder of it was occupied by the visits of emissaries, from many of the local tribes, seeking peaceful terms and the favor of the victorious general. “I don’t like all this slave dealing Marcus,” Claudius said. “It is a dirty business. Selling people as though they were animals doesn’t seem right. I was raised in a household that employed slaves. My stepfather usually treated them with dignity and respect. He even granted them their freedom, when he knew he was about to die.” “I remember the story you told me on our journey to Ravenna Claudius. Yes, you’re right of course. It is a sad thing. My heritage didn’t include slaves. My father built his horse business with his own hands. Any help he needed, he hired for a fair wage. We were never wealthy enough to afford servants and such.” “Have you heard any rumors among the men Marcus? Are we going to see more action soon?” “Rumor has it that Caesar still wants to mop up the remaining Helvetii and their German allies. He has been occupied with all the diversions of being the conquering general. We will see what’s going to happen soon enough.” “Gentlemen,” Caesar said, “I apologize for the delay in holding this meeting. Important matters had to be dealt with and now we are ready to deal with the remaining Helvetii and their German friends. There is one problem, since the battle, the Helvetii have been joined by two other tribes, the Lingones and the Trevani. It appears these two tribes fear Roman domination and have united under one leader named Casallinius. He is a warrior leader of the Trevani. He has convinced the two tribes, along with what’s left of the Helvetii, to join him and rid Gaul of Romans, once and for all. That is the good news. The bad news is, their ranks have swelled to an estimated ninety thousand combatants, an army nearly as large as the one we just faced. At least, that is what our spies tell us.” “The four legion commanders and myself, have devised a plan, a simple one at that,” Caesar continued. “This time we will offer the enemy battle on the open plain. We will do what we do best. No fording rivers, no operating in the dark, just two armies fighting each other, until the best one wins. These Gauls will soon discover how the greatest army in the world can fight. We will, however, have a little surprise in store for these upstart tribes. The surprise involves the ‘Wolf Pack’ and the Tenth legion. Lepidus, will outline what his tricks are, at a strategy session immediately following this one. Lepidus, his officers and the ‘Wolf Pack’ commanders will coordinate that action plan. Marcus and Claudius exchanged disquieting glances at this latest bit of information. “Now gentlemen, here is our battle plan”, Caesar said, sweeping away a table covering revealing a scale model of the plain, where the upcoming conflict would take place. The opposing forces were represented by colored blocks of wood, red for the Romans, blue for the enemy ranks. Claudius was very attentive to Caesar’s plans, being presented before him, but he couldn’t help thinking, what in blazes has Lepidus got in store for us? He could recall several instances where Lepidus had been critical of the ‘Wolf Pack’. He had grumbled openly about Caesar lavishing too much praise and

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bestowing too many awards, when they were not fully deserved. We shall soon see, Claudius thought. The meeting with Lepidus, and two of his military tribunes, convened directly after the presentation of Caesar’s latest battle plan. Claudius, Marcus and the three other men gathered around the same scale model Caesar had used, although Caesar himself and the other legion commanders had left. “I will be brief,” Lepidus said. “The Tenth legion will be very prominent in the coming battle. We will be the apex of a wedge. We will attack the enemy head on. The Thirteenth and the Seventh will be behind us and on our left flank. The Twelfth will be behind us on our right flank. The Tenth will smash through the middle of the Gauls and split their forces in half. The Tenth will then wheel right and enclose the right severed half, of the Gauls, in a pincer movement, with the Twelfth as one jaw and the Tenth as the other,” he said, moving the colored blocks to illustrate his point. “The Seventh and Thirteenth will then engage the other half of the split enemy force. This time there will be no prisoners. None will escape to fight another day.” “Excuse me sir”, Claudius said, “How does the ‘Wolf Pack’ figure in all of this?” “Ah, that’s the surprise the Gauls won’t be expecting. See this grove of trees, on the enemy right flank,” Lepidus said, pointing to a clump of sod, located near the blue wooden blocks in the model? “The trees in this grove are massive in size and densely packed. Our scouts tell us that even from a short distance away, one’s gaze cannot penetrate the grove’s interior. It will be a perfect place to conceal a force for a surprise ambush. Your orders are to conceal your entire force, in this grove, in the predawn darkness. When the signal is given, you will attack the enemy’s right flank. Is that clear centurions?” Again, Marcus and Claudius exchanged glances, and then Claudius spoke. “Sir, with all due respect, I strongly object to this phase of your plan.” “Why is that centurion? Is it because you didn’t think of it?” “No sir, I just think there is a factor that hasn’t been mentioned” Lepidus visibly bristled at Claudius’ comment. “What might that be centurion?” Labienus snapped. “Sir, it seems as though you are not considering the enemy’s innate intelligence. We surprised them once, recently. I think it’s presumptuous to believe we can do so again. They will be waiting for us, in that grove, and it will be us that is being ambushed.” “Nonsense centurion, these heathens are of inferior intelligence and even no intelligence, by the Gods man, they even fight naked, their bodies painted to ward off evil spirits. I am putting an end to any further discussion. You will do as you are ordered. Now, as I was saying, you will launch a full force attack. When you see the white pennant you will hit the enemy with everything you have, on his right flank, as I have outlined, any questions?” Claudius knew, from the tone of the general’s voice, that he didn’t want any more questions and that reasoning was futile. He just nodded saying, “Your orders will be carried out, sir.” That night in camp, Claudius and Marcus had settled by their campfire for a conference, each man carrying a worried look. “Well Marcus, what do you think of Labienus’ plan?”

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“I have a bad feeling about it. As you said the tables could be turned. What could we do about it? Could we appeal and voice our objections to Caesar?” “I wouldn’t advise doing that Marcus. Labienus could, and would, single us out and somehow find a way to punish us, for having the temerity to question his orders. Besides, he commands the Tenth legion. Caesar would have already seen his battle plan and approved it, as it stands. Caesar holds us in esteem but would certainly not go against the leader of his favorite legion, would he?” “I suppose you’re right, he won’t, or more accurately, he can’t. What are we to do then?” “We can follow an old adage Marcus.” “What would that be my friend?” “’Don’t panic, adjust’, Marcus, adjust to the situation. I have been thinking on this since we found out our role in this new action. Here is what I propose. Rather than have our entire troop go into the woods, at the same point, split our force and enter at two different locations. If I am attacked, you can come to my aid. If you are attacked I will help you. We can each enlist the aid of two archers. They will carry special signaling arrows. If one of us runs into trouble, he can signal the other to come to his rescue. If no trouble arises, we can rejoin forces as we exit the grove, launch our attack, and Labienus will be none the wiser. It is the only thing I can think of to prepare for a potential disaster.” Marcus nodded in agreement. “Under the circumstances Claudius, I think your idea is sound. That is exactly what we will do.” Claudius never slept the night before a battle, and this evening was no exception. When his orderly came to rouse him he was wide-awake, staring into the pre-dawn darkness of his tent. “I am awake Crixus, help me with my armor. Is my sword sharpened and oiled?” “As always sir, the weapon is sharp. It never seems to lose its edge and yes, I have oiled it. What a pleasure to handle such a weapon. Its balance is superb and it feels weightless in my hand. How many widows has it created sir?” Claudius closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Too many, he mused, and then a wave of grief and pity swept over him. He shuddered at the thought of how much chaos he had wrought with this piece of metal. A tear ran down his cheek and over his lips, and he tasted its salty wetness. Suddenly as it had come, the wave of emotion passed and he was the commander of the ‘Wolf Pack’, again. I must think of the lives of my men, not my own fears, he thought as he buckled on his sword and strode out into the darkness. The troop was formed and waiting for him when he arrived. There was no banter or joking. The men seemed sullen, lost in their own thoughts about duty, and survival. The army was fully active as the ‘Wolf Pack’ left camp and made its way quietly toward the grove of trees. Claudius could just make out the outline of the grove, a darker patch in the semi-darkness. It seemed much larger, up close, than it had appeared to him, from his observations of it, the day before. Ominous was the only word he could think of. He and Marcus had made their final plans that previous night. “May the Goddess Fortuna smile on us Claudius. I will look for your signal, you will look for mine. We will meet at the prearranged point.” Now, the two just exchanged a brief hand signal as Marcus broke off, with his men, and headed for his entry point.

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Claudius instructed the men to dismount and lead their horses into the grove. Once through, a distance of about one mile, they were to re-mount, at the forest’s edge, form-up with Marcus, wait for the legion signal to attack. As the “Wolves” approached the wood, Claudius could smell the dampness of it and knew the earth would be moist, spongy, deprived of steady sunlight, as it was. A low mist hovered over the ground as they entered the edge of the grove. Each man and horse seemed to vanish as they advanced into the grove, swallowed up by the mist that also muffled the squeaking leather and the clink of metal against metal. Claudius waited until the last of his men entered then followed them in. They made their way slowly at first, until their eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Sunrise was now just a short time away and visibility was steadily improving. He sensed the clamor up ahead before he actually heard it. Then the sound came, the noise of battle, men shouting, screaming and dying as weapons met and blood began to flow. He felt his gut tighten and a sick feeling of panic seized him. He realized his fear had become a reality. He ran toward the fray, legs pumping, heart racing, his breath coming faster. The enemy had prepared well for the Romans, correctly guessing that the grove would be used to launch a surprise attack, they had gotten there first. The huge trees were full of warriors and they literally fell upon the unsuspecting Romans from above. Claudius made his way forward as rapidly as he could, pausing only to ward off a random blow, or swipe to bring down an enemy soldier. He ran shouting orders, trying to rally his men as he went. Confusion reigned from the initial onslaught but the Roman discipline soon took over. By the time Claudius reached the vanguard, the men had formed three hollow squares and were holding their own. This success, small as it was, did not relieve the peril. As near as he could tell, they were badly outnumbered and the enemy was squeezing the squares into smaller and smaller groups as his men fell. Claudius’ two archers had stayed with him most of the way until one took an arrow in the leg and could no longer run. Claudius ordered the disabled archer to launch his signal arrows and keep launching until there were no more. He then kept on with the second archer. Before he took command of the situation, Claudius ordered the second archer to begin launching his arrows. “Sir, I don’t know if the burning arrows will stay afire as they pass through the leaves of the trees.” “Just do your best soldier. Launch and pray to the Gods that our men see the signal.” He rallied the men and ordered them to form one large square. This was a wellpracticed maneuver, and with some difficulty, it was accomplished. Claudius formed each side of the square in ranks of two, when the front rank grew fatigued, he ordered the rear rank forward, giving each soldier a rest in the midst of battle. Each time the battle line was renewed, the rested warriors devastated the unrested ranks of the enemy facing them. Still, the Roman ranks were steadily thinning as the numerical superiority of the Gauls took its toll. Then they heard it, just above the din of battle, the howling of the “Wolves”. The soldiers in the besieged square cheered and took up the voice. The enemy soldiers began looking over their shoulders, knowing they were now under attack from behind. Claudius gave the order. “Thrust and push, thrust and push”, he shouted, at the top of his lungs. Again, a battlefield maneuver familiar to

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every ranker in the Roman army. The square began to expand outward, on all sides. The ranks of the Gauls, now caught between two forces thinned rapidly. The long Gallic swords, nearly useless in such close-in fighting, became a detriment, while the Roman short sword did its deadly work. Soon, there were no more Gauls. They were either dead, wounded or fled into the woods. The besieged soldiers greeted their rescuers with great bear hugs, of relief. The horses of the “Wolf Pack” had fared better than their riders. Marcus’ group had five wounded and no lives lost. Claudius group had ninety-three lives lost and twenty-three wounded. The marshalling signal was given and the horses rallied to it. The dead were placed across empty saddles and the ‘Wolf Pack’, or what was left of it, limped back to camp. The army had been victorious, again. Labienus plan, minus the surprise phase delegated to the “Wolf Pack”, had worked quite well. The Helvetii and their ally tribes had been no match for the Romans. They had been slaughtered, almost to a man. Eighty thousand Gauls were dead. The eastern half of “Long-Haired-Gaul” was now under Roman control. Caesar’s precious supply lines, to the up Italian peninsula, were secure and wide open. The remaining tribes were pacified and also under Roman control. The post-battle meeting, in the command tent, the next day, was jubilant. Caesar was well pleased and Labienus was beaming. Claudius and Marcus were the only attendees who carried wounds of the battle. Claudius had received a deep sword cut on his left arm. The arm was in a sling and some blood was still seeping from the stitched-up wound. Caesar remarked on it and asked Claudius if he was all right? “Yes sir, I will heal. The wound is not serious and the surgeons did their work well.” “That is good Claudius. Deputize your command and rest for a few days. I’m sure Marcus can run things for a while.” “Perhaps he wouldn’t be wounded if he had followed orders!” “Excuse me sir, what exactly do you mean by that comment,” Claudius said, trying too stay composed, the bile of anger rising in this throat. “Just what I said centurion. You failed to attack as ordered. The infamous ‘Wolf Pack’ couldn’t fight off a few barbarians and you allowed them to delay you long enough to prevent you from carrying out your orders.” “I lost almost a hundred good men to those few barbarians general. If you had listened to me and hadn’t been so adamant about asserting your authority, those good men would still be alive.” A stunned awkward silence followed and filled the tent. Claudius could see the blood rise up the neck and fill the face of Labienus, who was gritting his teeth and clenching and un-clenching his fists. “Be very careful centurion. Curb your tongue or I will have it removed and top that with fifty lashes from a mule whip.” Caesar interjected quickly. “Gentlemen, please, please, let’s not sully our great victory with petty squabbling. Yes we lost some men, but after all, its war isn’t it. We all know plans often go awry. Now, if there is no further pressing business, I would like to adjourn. Eat, have some wine, rest and savor our victory. You are dismissed.”

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As the officers moved to comply with the directive, Caesar spoke quietly to Claudius, asking him to stay behind. “Claudius you must restrain yourself where Labienus is concerned. I understand your grief over your lost men, but you can’t openly question a general’s authority like that, especially in front of the junior officers. It could seriously jeopardize his ability to command.” “Yes sir, I see what you mean. I apologize. It won’t happen again.” “All right, never mind what’s done is done, but know this. I reviewed Labienus’ plan. I didn’t object to it. We, you notice I said we, are responsible for the loss of your men. We didn’t anticipate the cunning of our enemy properly. That’s the gist of it. Now, I have to think of some way to separate you and Labienus. He will never forget your affront to him. You have insulted him and he will thwart you until you are killed. In his mind, your death is the only way that affront will go away. You know it’s within his power to do this. Eventually he will win and you will die.” Claudius just nodded in understanding. “Let me think on it,” Caesar continued, “Come back at dawn tomorrow. I will have a solution to our little dilemma.” “Claudius, my brother, you know what you did was foolhardy, don’t you?” “Yes Marcus, I know. I couldn’t help myself. I was beyond anger and I let my emotions rule my tongue.” “I was secretly cheering you Claudius. When he made that comment I wanted to put my hands around his throat and choke his smugness. He deserved to hear what you said. It was the truth.” “It is definitely a problem for me Marcus. Labienus will see me dead. Caesar warned me, he never forgets an affront, especially a public one.” “Caesar will intervene Claudius, somehow. He won’t let the man who helped him realize his dream, of an elite fighting force, go it alone.” “I hope so Marcus, I hope so.” Caesar didn’t let Claudius down, when they met, at dawn, the next day. “I have it Claudius. I know how I can keep you from Labienus’ clutches. Listen very carefully. Only you and I and one other will know of this plan. The other’s name is Servatorus. You will give him this letter,” Caesar said, handing him a sealed scroll. “The orders for what I am about to tell you are in there, which makes it official. Here is the gist of what’s in the letter. I want you to journey to Bibracte. We have a large garrison there. The people are the Aedui. They are friends and allies of Rome. Many Romans live there also. Your current plight is a result of poor intelligence. If I am to conquer Gaul, I must have better intelligence. Our native spies lie to us to further their own ends and don’t always translate exactly what they hear. I cannot fully trust them. This latest episode with, Labienus acting on poor intelligence, was prophetic. The question is, how to get good reliable intelligence? The obvious answer is to place a spy in the enemy ranks.” Claudius looked at Caesar, his eyes growing wider and wider as he realized what Caesar was saying.

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“I see you understand what I am saying?” Claudius only nodded, he was too stunned to say anything. “That’s correct, I want you to become a spy! First, you will become a student. Your subject matter will be a people called the Veneti, a neighbor to another tribe called the Pictones, which is the tribe you must infiltrate. A lone Veneti would be readily accepted into a Pictone tribe, no questions asked. You will learn the ways and the language of the Veneti. When you have sufficient knowledge, you will go to live among the Pictones and spy on all the other tribes through them. This Pictone tribe is the arbitrator for all of southern Gaul. They are a peace loving people surrounded by warrior tribes; their peaceful ways make them invaluable when tribal disputes cannot be settled by war. Driud priests guide them, and all the tribes respect their counsel. You can see how valuable infiltrating their ranks could be, can’t you Claudius?” Claudius was still absorbing Caesar’s original comment when he regained awareness. “Yes Caesar, yes, I can see how valuable that position might be.” “It will also remove you from Labienus’ influence, and help him to forget the differences between you and him. I gain an intelligence source and my general can pay full attention to commanding my Tenth legion. Mind you Claudius, this is an important mission. I am sending the man who created the “Wolf Pack”. I know you will perform this new task as eloquently as you performed the last. Remember Claudius, tell no one, not even Marcus, what this is all about. I can’t answer any of the many questions you must have. In this situation, you will have to find your own answers. To know your enemy, you must become him. May the Goddess Fortuna go with you.” Bibracte was exactly as Caesar had described it, a very peaceful Romanized city, in the middle of Gaul. The garrison was a permanent camp, manned by four cohorts, housed in a fort built to withstand a siege. It reminded him of the garrison at Ravenna, where he and Marcus had ended one journey and began another. Claudius had made his trip to Bibracte clothed as a civilian, riding a horse and leading a pack animal carrying his weapons, armor and all his belongings. When he arrived at his destination he was clad only in a simple tunic, riding boots and his legionnaire’s cloak. He rode into the city at dusk and, after briefly touring the city and locating his ultimate destination, sought out an inn for shelter, a warm bed and a hot meal. He had chosen to leave Aphrodite behind with Marcus, not knowing what the immediate future held in store for him. “I know you will care for her well my friend, after all she is your sister.” Marcus had understood the need for secrecy and not pressed him for information and when they parted, each man shed a tear for the friendship they would sorely miss. Claudius left the camp in the middle of the night. No fanfare or ceremony marked the event, only his sadness at having to leave his friend and his beloved “Wolf Pack”. Claudius presented himself to Gaius Flavius Servatorus, at midmorning on the very next day. He, like Claudius, was a centurion; only he was a senior officer with many years of service. Claudius liked the man at once. He reminded him of his friend Septimus. Similar in age except Servatorus was quite tall with a mane of bushy black hair and the most

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enormous black eyebrows Claudius had ever seen. The eyebrows jumped up and down, as the man spoke. “Greetings centurion. You are a fine looking young army officer, what brings you to the garrison at Bibracte today?” Claudius didn’t verbally reply, he saluted smartly and reached out to hand Servatorus the scroll Caesar had given him, then stepped back and waited. Servatorus closely inspected the imprint on the wax sealing the scroll, paused briefly to look at Claudius, then broke the seal and read the contents. He read the letter a second time. “Your orders, and mine, come from the very highest authority. Do you know Caesar personally Claudius?” “I do sir. He and I have worked very closely together, over the last year. I admire and respect the man. He is a superb commander.” “This is very interesting Claudius, very interesting, indeed. It certainly sounds as though you like him and judging by the contents of this letter, he thinks very highly of you. Caesar and I go way back to Mytilene, on the island of Lesbos, we served in a campaign there. He won “The Civic Crown”, in that battle, are you aware of that?” “I am sir. I am also a friend of Septimus Aquinus, he also served in that campaign and it was he who told me of Caesar’s act of bravery.” “You know Septimus, that old horse’s arse. He is a very good friend of mine. How is he and how is it you come to know him?” “He is well sir and he knew my father. When I enlisted in the army, in Ravenna, my father told me to look him up and I did. He helped me to enlist in the Tenth. After that we became good friends and he mentored me and helped me to succeed in the duties Caesar gave me.” “Your father eh, and who might your father be?” “His name is Rufus Flavius Polinus, sir!” “You are the son of Rufus Polinus?” “Yes sir.” “I know of your father. We fought in Africa together, against Massinissa. Your father is a very brave man Claudius. I don’t need to hear any more about you son. In fact, the less I know the better. What you have told me is more than enough. It verifies that Caesar picked the right man for this job. Now, let’s get down to business,” Servatorus said, setting fire to the letter, letting it burn until its contents ceased to exist. Claudius met his teacher soon after his meeting with Servatorus. The man was a minor Veneti tribal chieftain. His rank was such that, his wife and children had been accepted, as hostages, to honor a treaty the Veneti had made with the Romans. However, this Veneti warrior had not seen it the way the tribal leaders had seen it. He made a vain attempt to rescue his family and had been subsequently captured and put in prison. Claudius learned that the Gallic tribes routinely exchanged hostages to show good faith and to guarantee pacts negotiated by tribal leaders. These hostages were well treated and were, often families of high birth. Claudius also learned that the imprisoned warrior was well educated. He could speak and understand the Roman tongue. Servatorus had picked this man for precisely that reason. When the man entered what was to be a classroom, Claudius was sitting and motioned for the man to do the same. The man complied with the request, his manacles and leg irons clinking as he shuffled over to take a stool.

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Claudius studied the man for some time. He was about Claudius’ height and weight, perhaps five years younger. He had the typical long beard, commonly worn by Gallic men. He was well proportioned and muscular and he stared back at Claudius with piercing black eyes, blazing with hostility. He had a slight smirk on his face and contemplated Claudius as though he were nothing more than a pesky insect he could step on if he wished. He looks like a Gallic warrior should look, this is what I must become, Claudius thought. “What is your name,” Claudius said in a soft, even tone of voice? The man did not answer immediately, he just continued observing and evaluating Claudius. “Torgano,” the man eventually replied, saying nothing else. “I want something from you and I know you want something from me,” Claudius said. “What could I possibly want from a Roman dog, other than my freedom,” he said, with a thick accent? “I understand your anger, but I want to speak to you, man to man, not captor to prisoner. Listen to what I have to say. I know why you are here and I, as you, would die to keep my family from being imprisoned. I will do all that I can to see that you, and your family are reunited and released. You have the word of a fellow warrior. I believe this is what you want from me!” Claudius could see he now had the man’s full attention. Claudius continued, “What I want from you is within your power to grant. I want to learn the language and the ways of your people.” The prisoner started to laugh. He couldn’t help it and he laughed heartily, for some time. Finally, he spoke with such a thick accent, Claudius could barely understand the words. “Forgive me for laughing,” Torgano said, “I was not laughing at you. It’s just that, what you just said, was the very last thing I expected to hear from an officer in the Roman army.” “How did you know who I was?” “Your military bearing, those battle scars I see scattered over your body. And, oh yes, a common ranker would not be involved in a situation such as this, so I am guessing the rank of centurion, maybe tribune,” Torgano replied. “You are very observant Torgano and Centurion is correct. My name is Claudius. Can you teach me the language and customs of your people?” “How do I know you will keep your end of the bargain, centurion Claudius?” “You don’t know for sure but I will give you the hand of a fellow warrior,” as Claudius said this, he rose, walked around the table, took Torgano’s hand grasped it in a firm handshake while looking directly into the man’s eyes. “I see truth in your eyes centurion Claudius. When would this schooling begin?” “Why tomorrow at sun-up, of course.” “Can we dispense with these chains while I am a teacher,” Torgano asked? “Yes, I believe we can.” The two men liked each other right from the start. Perhaps on the battlefield he would kill me without a second thought, Claudius mused, but I do like and trust the man.

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Torgano told Claudius everything he could think of. How his parents raised him, the things he liked, what he ate, how he was schooled and how he came to know the Roman tongue. He spoke of the Veneti Gods, what crops were grown, their relationship to the sea and how the men were trained in warfare, from a very young age. The Veneti had no formal written language such as the Romans. All their history was passed on by word of mouth and by the drawing of pictures. To facilitate the effort being put forth, a Roman pedagogue was brought in and loaned to Claudius. This proved to be a stroke of genius, actually thought of, by Servatorus. The teacher’s skill, coupled with the innate intelligence of the two students bridged a gap and Claudius was soon understanding and forming words, in the Veneti tongue. Torgano was constantly correcting Claudius’ dialect, voice inflections and tone. “You want to sound like a native Veneti, don’t you?” he would say to Claudius. Soon Torgano no longer had to correct Claudius and the two men could carry on a lengthy conversation. Occasionally Claudius would ask Torgano questions about the Veneti’s neighboring tribes. Who they were, what were they like, did they have a common language. Little by little, without arousing Torgano’s suspicion, Claudius learned much about his target tribe, the Pictones. Their classroom was always the same room in which the two men had originally met. One day Claudius made a suggestion. “Torgano, how would you like to go into the exercise yard and do some weapons drills with me? Show me how a Veniti warrior fights, come on, what do you say?” “You would trust me with weapons Claudius? I could easily kill you and say it was an accident.” Claudius dwelled on the thought for a moment. “Yes Torgano, I would trust you with weapons. Besides, all this learning has left my muscles sagging. I am used to doing weapons drills and I miss them. My body misses them. What do you say, are you up to it?” “Why not Claudius but, a suggestion if I may. At first, we should probably use wooden practice weapons. I haven’t held a sword for so long, I’m afraid I would promptly cut something off.” Both men laughed at the humor. “Very well then, if the weather is suitable tomorrow, we will have a go at it,” Claudius said. It was a glorious late spring day. The sky was cloudless. As the sun rose, it displaced the moist air with warmth, resulting in the kind of day that only that time of year could produce. It was a small exercise yard with the usual props, thick wooden post, buried in the ground. There were wooden targets for spear practice and a selection of wooden weapons to choose from. It felt like home away from home. Each of the two men began a stretching routine, loosening and warming their sleepy muscles. “It has been a long time,” Claudius remarked, Torgano nodding his agreement as he also stretched. Once the stretching was over each man chose a wooden sword and medium sized wooden shield and began to warm-up with the usual thrust and parry movements. “This shield is not to my liking. The shields of the Veneti are smaller and round in shape, but I can make do with this one, for now.”

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Both men had worked up a light sweat by now, when Claudius said, “Are you ready to begin Torgano?” “Yes Claudius, I am feeling good now, let’s engage.” The initial block, thrust and parry went well. Each man was able to sense the other’s moves and deliver a counter stroke. Each man was able to defend and attack successfully without fully taxing the other’s skill too much. Just a friendly get acquainted match. “Ready to step up the pace Torgano?” “Ready,” he said, his breath coming quicker. Suddenly the rhythm of the pace increased. The clatter of the wooden swords, against shields, became sharper, the noise echoing off the walls of the drill yard. A few heads, popped up, over the walls, to see what the clatter was all about. This man can fight, Claudius thought, as he noticed the determination in Torgano’s eyes. The friendly match soon became a battle. I better end this before one of us gets hurt, Claudius thought. He waited for precisely the right moment, thrust in and executed a wrist twisting motion, with his sword, sending Torgano’s sword spinning into the air and clattering against the drill yard wall. Torgano looked incredulously at his empty hand, and in the same instant, fell on his back, arms akimbo, laughing and trying to take in great gulps of air, all at the same time. Claudius fell to his knees laughing, as well. He too was spent and out-of-breath. The two men stayed as they were for some time until Claudius rose, extending his hand to help Torgano up. “Well done Claudius. I would like you to show me the spinning sword trick some time. It was outstanding.” “I shall Torgano, I shall. Now let’s get a drink of water and rest a bit. I think that’s enough for today,” Claudius said, bringing his arm up and around the man’s shoulder as they walked toward the cups and jug of water waiting just outside the door of the exercise yard. The swordplay became a regular event. Every other day and soon every day, the two would engage in mock battle, in the exercise yard. Claudius could feel his old form returning to peak. He knew he could overcome Torgano, if the battles were real, but he never played down Torgano’s skill or let on about his superior ability. He did show Torgano his disarming technique, which was soon mastered by the Veneti warrior. “It doesn’t work very well if your opponent knows what you are trying to do, does it Claudius?” “You are right Torgano. I have tried it on you several times since you learned it. You counter my move every time.” Torgano nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear. One particular day, having finished their workout, the two men sat on a bench, enjoying the cup of cool water, which was their after-practice custom. They conversed in the Veneti tongue, which was the way they spoke, when in each other’s company. “Do they treat you well here Torgano? I only see you during our sessions. I have no idea where you go or what you do once we part.” “I am well fed Claudius, and I return to a jail cell after we conclude our sessions; but respect, no they don’t respect me. However, this is not my chief concern. My complaint is that I hear nothing about my wife and children. I am not allowed to see

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them. I miss them very much. It is lonely and very frustrating.” Claudius looked over at the man and noticed he was tearing up a bit. Claudius put a friendly hand on his shoulder trying to comfort him. He felt Torgano’s sorrow, keenly. “I will speak to Servatorus. Maybe I can persuade him to allow some visitation to occur.” Claudius, if you could do that for me, I would be forever in your debt.” Claudius made a point to see Servatorus, the next day. “What can I do for you centurion Claudius, although you don’t look like centurion Claudius anymore. You look more like a Gallic warrior with all that long hair.” “Yes sir, I have tried to achieve that look, long hair, braided locks, beard, mustache even a sack cloth tunic and leather leggings, to complete the outfit.” Claudius then rattled off a phrase in the Veneti tongue. “By the Gods son, you are more like a Gaul than the Gauls,” he said, laughing. “Have you chosen a name yet?” “Actually I have sir. I was thinking of using Claudus. It’s close to my real name and Torgano says he hasn’t heard it before but the Veneti often choose unusual names for their offspring.” “Excellent choice Claudius, oops I mean Claudus. Now what brings you to my quarters today,” Servatorus said cheerily? “I came to ask a very special favor that only you, the garrison commander, could grant.” “If it is in my power to grant it, the favor shall be yours Claudius. What is it?” “I would like you to allow Torgano to visit with his wife and children, now, and on a regular basis.” Servatorus’ countenance changed from cheery to dour in an instant. He looked at Claudius for a very long time before he spoke. “I would like to comply with your request Claudius but I can’t.” “Why not sir? It is a reasonable request. In the last two months Torgano has been a model prisoner. He has done everything we asked of him; but more importantly, he and I are at a critical place in our relationship. If I am to fully prepare for infiltrating the Pictone tribe, I must have his trust. I see these visitation rights as the mortar to cement our relationship.” “I had surmised that what you just stated, was in fact, the reason for your request Claudius. What you don’t know is this. In trying to rescue his family, Torgano killed two of my soldiers. They were good men Claudius, they even had families of their own.” Claudius was stunned. “I had no idea sir, he never told me. I am sorry for the deaths of those men and I am sorry for their families. Of course I can see why you would deny my request. I will speak no more of it. I will just have to think of another way to advance my plan. Before I go, though, I would like to ask you one question. If it were your wife and children, being held against their will, would you kill to obtain their freedom?” Several days passed. The tutoring continued, as well as the weapons drills. While in the classroom, one day, word came that both men were to report to the garrison commander at once. Torgano’s chains were re-applied and he and Claudius were escorted to Servatorus’ quarters by two fully armed legionnaires. Once there, Servatorus dismissed

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the escorts and invited the two men to sit. Servatorus sat in a cushioned armchair, at his desk, facing them. “I have decided to grant your request Claudius,” Servatorus said. Torgano looked at Claudius, a glimmer of hope came alive in his eyes, but he said nothing and did not move. “Torgano will be allowed to visit his family.” At this news Torgano leapt off his stool and began jumping up and down, the chains clattering noisily on the wooden floor. “Settle down soldier. There are conditions attached to this grant, now listen very carefully. You will be allowed to visit your family once every three market intervals. You will be searched before and after every visit. If any weapon is discovered the visits will cease immediately and you will be returned to your cell. The visits will be one half hour in length, no longer. Now, what I am about to relate to you is of the utmost importance. These visits are to be a closely guarded secret. They will only take place after nightfall in the eleventh hour. Their occurrence will only be known to myself and two others. More rules may be forthcoming, but for now, these are the rules. If any of the rules are violated, the visits will cease immediately. Is all of this perfectly clear Torgano?” Servatorus said. Torgano was so excited he could hardly speak; he could only mumble a very emphatic “Yes sir.” The first visit was allowed to take place that night. The next day, Torgano burst into the classroom, where Claudius was waiting, threw his arms around Claudius and wept. Through sobs and tears, Torgano told Claudius what a great friend he was, what a great man he was, and how great the visit was, in a stream of words, that went on, without a break. Finally, Torgano sat down breathless, grinning from ear to ear and very much elated. “I am happy for you my friend. It is good to see you whole again. I can see by the light that has returned to your eyes that your family is well.” “They are Claudius, they are. My son and daughter are now eight and six. They have grown so much, in the six months since I last saw them, I couldn’t believe it. My wife, she is more beautiful than I remember, we are a family again. By the way, did I thank you for all of your efforts in making this happen for me?” “Yes Torgano, you did, about a thousand times, I think,” Claudius said, laughing. “You also owe a debt of gratitude to Servatorus. The death of those two legionnaires weighed heavily on him. His decision was not an easy one.” “I know Claudius, I am sorry for that. I didn’t sneak up on them to slit their throats. I just defended myself, against their attack, and the better man won. When five more guards arrived, they overwhelmed me, beat me severely before they threw me in prison. Even after all of that I still regretted killing those two soldiers.” “This is why the secrecy of your visits is so important my friend. If word of the visits got out, Servatorus would lose credibility and you know that is not good when you command men.” “I know what you say is true. I will honor you always for what you have done for me Claudius. I will also honor Servatorus, only not quite as much.” “Save the honor until after I tell you the reason why you and I have gone through all that we have together.”

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“You mean the real reason behind all the schooling and the weapons drills Claudius?” “You’ve guessed then my friend?” “Yes Claudius, I have and I think I can come close to outlining your intent. You plan to infiltrate a tribe close to the Veneti. I would guess the Aulerci or the Pictones, although, in all probability, it must be the Pictones. Their language and customs are similar to the Veneti, but where we are warlike, they reject the ways of war. I don’t know how you plan to do it, but I would say that my guess is close to being correct.” Claudius was smiling now. He was also shaking his head at the cleverness of his friend. “I don’t know how you did it Torgano but you have just outlined the generalities of my plan.” Torgano, looking quite pleased with himself, replied, “I reasoned it out Claudius. It wasn’t difficult in view of your many questions, especially about the Pictones.” “Now that you have uncovered my plan, there are two more favors that I would ask of you.” “What might they be Claudius”? “First, you must maintain secrecy. My life could be in extreme danger if certain people were to know of my intent. I also want to continue our weapons drills and I want to use real Veneti weapons. I want to learn how I measure up, fighting with your weapons using your style. Are these things you would do for me?” “Yes Claudius, I would keep your secret unto death. The second favor I have already been doing, without you even realizing what’s been going on. In fact, you fight more like a Veneti warrior than a Veneti warrior. I don’t know where you learned your skills, but you are the best with sword, spear and shield that I have ever seen. Even your demeanor is much like that of a Veneti warrior. You could easily fool a Pictone into believing you are Veneti.” “My friend, you have told me exactly what I wanted to hear. I am ready to put my plan into action.” “No doubt Claudius, you are ready.” “Before I set off, there is one more test I must do to satisfy myself and you can help me with it.” “I will be saddened when you leave Claudius for we have become good friends but just tell me what I can do to help?” “I want to pose as Veneti warriors and walk through the streets of the city. Could we do it Torgano?” “We could and we will although, I’m sure you would need Servatorus’ permission.” “I already have it. I also had to give him my word that you won’t try to escape.” “Was it hard to give him your word Claudius?” “No my friend, it was easy for me to do.” They walked through the streets of Bibracte, as though neither had a care in the world, just two Veneti warriors taking in the sights. Their excursion began around midday, the most active part of the day. The streets were jammed with people. Claudius thought fleetingly of Brundisium. With the thought came a pang of nostalgia and an emptiness thinking of his missed family and friends.

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How were they, what were they doing, would he ever see them again? He was jarred back to reality by a bevy of giggling girls. There were five of them in a group pointing at the strange clothes of the two men and making comments. Claudius heard one of the girls say to the others, in Latin, “I wonder if their manhood is as long as their beards?” This caused a burst of giggling among the girls. Claudius turned to Torgano and said, “Watch this.” Striding over to the group of girls Claudius spoke two words, in Latin, loudly enough for them to hear above the crowd noise. “Much longer”, he said, spun on his heel and rejoined Torgano, both men breaking into gut-splitting laughter, as they walked away. Some people shied away from them, others crossed the street to walk on the other side, and most just stared, curiously. They passed a pair of Roman soldiers on patrol. “They don’t look so tough. I’ll wager we could kick their arses,” one soldier said to the other. Claudius and Torgano looked at each other and smiled, continuing on their way. “It feels strange to walk as a free man Claudius, it’s been such a long time. If the choice ever comes, I would rather die in battle than become a prisoner again.” Claudius again put an understanding hand on Torgano’s shoulder, as they headed back toward the garrison, its guarded watchtowers silhouetted by the setting sun. Claudius made the final preparations for his journey into northern Gaul and the land of the Veneti and ultimately, the Pictones. He made his farewells to Servatorus, thanking him for his help and his trust. “I don’t know when, or even if, I will ever see Caesar again sir, but I would like this letter sent to him. The letter, among other things, reports what a fine officer you are and that you are to be commended for your role in helping us with this plan of ours.” “I think it may not matter Claudius. I plan to retire to private life soon, thirtyseven years is long enough. I have some land just south of Arretium. They tell me it is ideal for growing grapes. Who knows, I may be making some of the finest wine in all of Italy soon.” “Rome will lose a good soldier sir and I pray the Gods allow you to realize your dreams. Now, I bid you goodbye, and thank you for all you have done.” It was a pleasure knowing you Claudius. May the Goddess Fortuna be always at your side, during your coming journey and in the success of your mission.” Parting with Torgano was much more difficult. Claudius promised him that he had done his best to see that he and his family were released. “I have written a personal letter to Caesar regarding the matter. It may take him some time to respond. I asked him to pardon you and allow you and your family to return to your people. He has the power to grant such a request and I see no reason why he would deny me. After all, I would not have become a Veneti warrior if it weren’t for you. It is my hope you will be reunited with your family soon. As Caesar and Servatorus would say, ‘May the Goddess Fortuna be at your side’. Goodbye my friend and thank you for all that you have given me.” “Goodbye Claudius. I will always be your friend, and now that you are Claudus, the Veneti, ‘Lugus’, ‘The Shinning One’, walks with you and will keep you safe.”

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Chapter XII The Path of Peace The land was vast, untamed and magnificent. The journey to the land of the Veneti was challenging, lonely and cold. Icy rivers to cross, deep, dark, endless forests to traverse, towering mountains to climb. Ever northward, where no Roman army had ever been. It was at the end of the world, this land of the Veneti. His horses were sturdy animals, chosen for their strength and stamina. He treated them with care and kept them well fed, as best he could. He had packed lightly, some precious personal belongings, rations and his sword, armor and helmet. His shield and spear he had left behind. He removed the red horsehair crest and stored it inside the helmet. He carefully wrapped and tied everything in an oiled sheepskin and lashed the bundle to the packhorse. He kept his legionnaires dagger as his only personal weapon. His rations ran out eleven days into the journey and he began living off the land, as he had done, so many times before. He was able to bag small game and forage for growing edibles. It reminded him of his journey to Ravenna and his meeting Marcus, for the first time, at a tavern in Arretium. It all seemed so long ago, a lifetime ago. The old skills came back, as he brushed the dust off of them, sling, makeshift bow, makeshift spear, skills once learned, but never forgotten. He had all the time to practice he needed. He shed body weight over time. His muscles hardened, his body became sinewy and efficient. The cold didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t bother him, nor the rain, nor the snow. The rigorous travel also hardened his mind, and built his confidence. Doing daily battle against the power of the elements was a war in itself. He kept a count of the travel days, with notches on a stick, it was now, thirty-one days and counting. He had been carefully descending a mountain slope, guiding the horses over the rocky terrain, gradually coming through some low cloud cover when he saw it, the vastness of the sea. It stretched before him, endlessly. All his senses told him it had to be Atlanticus, an endless ocean few Romans had ever seen. It seemed oddly familiar to him, then he thought of Brundisium and all the memories of it, came rushing back. He descended another half mile or so and then sat on a large rock, let the horses graze on some nearby tufted grass and just gazed in wonder and reflection. The shore, in his range of vision was rocky and irregular. No beaches were in sight, only the rocks and the waves crashing endlessly against them. He knew the Veneti dwelt on a very large peninsula. Torgano had described its size as being many miles across and jutting perhaps fifty miles out into the sea. The Veneti were settled all along its southern shore, the Orisimi and the Armovici along its northern shore. He wanted to arrive at the southernmost end of that large peninsula so he had skewed his trail slightly west of north. That way, when he met the sea, he would just follow the coast north, until he happened upon a good size village. He had studied some ancient maps Servatorus had supplied him with and coupled with his own good sense of direction, he felt confident that he would eventually reach his goal. While traveling, he had formulated a simple, but risky plan, which depended on good fortune to succeed. Fortune favors Caesar, he thought, perhaps she will favor me. It was the first plan he had thought of, and as he traveled, his mind kept returning to it, going over every detail, trying to think of any way it could fail.

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He would find a suitable Veneti village, steal a small boat and sail south to the land of the Pictones. First he had to sell his horses. He thought about turning them loose in the mountains but he had developed a certain affection for them. They have served me well, they are tame animals, and I cannot abandon them to the wolves and bears. I will take the risk and try to sell them. The exercise will be a good test of my disguise and my knowledge of the Veneti tongue, he thought. As he followed the coastline, he began to encounter well-trodden paths. Soon the paths turned into roads. He also began to encounter other travelers. He was able to understand and engage in casual conversation with those he met. They showed no outward sign that they recognized him for anything other a fellow countryman. These conversations informed him that he was heading toward a large village called Carnute. It wasn’t long before Claudius spotted the village as he traveled down the coastal road. The elevation of the road afforded him a panoramic view of the village as he approached it from the south. It was situated on a high peninsula that jutted out into the sea for several miles. There was also another smaller spit of land, further up the coast. The spit was much higher in elevation, than the peninsula and its steep cliffs rendered it unsuitable for any type of construction, it did however, create the opposing side of a large sheltered harbor. Now, if I can only locate a suitable boat, he thought. Then the Goddess Fortuna smiled. He led the two horses into the village and began exploring, leading them through the village’s wide roads. Some of the buildings were of wood, some of wood and stone, all were well constructed. Most were the dwellings of people and there were hundreds, if not thousands, of them. The streets were clean and well maintained, and were lined with small shops, selling foodstuffs and an endless variety of goods. Claudius had been told the Gauls were masters of metalwork and he now saw the evidence of it. He also saw evidence of the ability; these people had, to produce fine weaponry, swords, shields, spears and daggers of all shapes and sizes. He paused to examine some of the work and realized, these people were skilled craftsmen, and could even be called artists. Their work rivaled anything available in the shops of Rome. There were many cattle pens, pig sties and corrals, large and small. There were smiths at work at their forges, stables buying and selling horses and further on there were the fish piers. He could see the tops of the masts, of the boats, bobbing and moving with the restless sea and wind. It wasn’t long before Claudius spotted a stable. There was a small herd of horses in the adjoining corral and a bearded man, with massive arms, was busy shoeing a horse, in an attached shed. “Hail stranger, what’s your name? My name is Jarcus,” said the one shoeing the horse. “What brings you to our fair city this day?” Claudius looked around; to make sure the man was speaking to him then replied, “I am called Claudus. This is my first journey to Carnute. I was born and raised many miles to the south of here, this is Carnute isn’t it?” “Yes, it is, you must be from Morcuna?”

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I must be careful here, Claudius thought. It could be an effort to trap me in my words. “I traveled three days west then three days north to get here. I don’t know much about a place called Morcuna” Claudius said, purposely mispronouncing the name. “Well then, you must be a back country man. Those are two good-looking horses you have there. I particularly like your pack animal, he looks to be a sturdy beast.” “He is a good horse Jarcus, strong and slow to tire, but alas, I don’t want to, but I have to part with these two animals.” “Part with them eh? What you mean is, you want to sell them?” “Yes, yes, that’s it, I want to sell them.” At that instant Claudius had an idea. Why not barter the two horses in exchange for a boat. If he could make a trade, he wouldn’t have to risk stealing and no one would be looking to exact retribution for a theft. “I am mildly interested in these animals. What would you have to get, to part with them, as you say?” Claudius decided to aim directly at his target. “I would like to obtain a small sailboat.” “Why do you want a boat, are you going to be a fisherman?” Jarcus said, laughing. “No, no, I don’t want to be a fisherman. I wish to contact my mother’s people and hopefully go to live with them. She has recently passed to the other world. My father was Veneti and he passed on several years ago and now I have no one. My mother was a Pictone and before she died she said I must find our people, they would welcome me as a homecoming son. She said that her people lived on the coast and that I should make my journey there, by sea.” “Yes, that does makes sense. What you just told me would also explain the slight accent I detect in your voice. Why are you dressed as a warrior though, was your father a warrior?” “Yes, he was, his name was Turgantus and he taught me some of the skills of a Veneti warrior, but mostly he taught me how to work on our farm. He wanted to be a warrior but his right hand had been injured and he was unable to properly hold a sword so he took up farming.” “Yes, “I too was a warrior and these missing fingers are my particular problem,” Jarcus said, holding up a right hand with two missing fingers. “So, when one cannot fight, one must survive in other ways, mustn’t one! In my case it was blacksmithing. Now, getting back to these horses; you want to trade these two horses for a boat is that it?” “Yes Jarcus, that’s exactly what I want to do.” “Hmm, let me see, do I know anyone who has a boat and needs two horses more than they need the boat? By the beard of ‘Lugus’, you know, I do know someone who may have an interest in your trade. His name is Bartaal, he is, was, a fisherman. He used to bring me metal cleats and sail hoisting gear, for repair. He never paid me but he would bring me fresh fish. My wife loves fresh fish. Anyway, he had an accident recently and he severely injured his arm. He can no longer pull his nets with only one arm. I know he has a boat. Maybe he would be willing to trade with you. I will get word to him today. Come back tomorrow and you will have an answer.”

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When Claudius returned, the next day, there was a man there with Jarcus. He introduced Claudius to him. He was a weather-beaten man. The sun and the wind, from a life at sea, had turned the man’s skin to tanned leather and he had a permanent squint. Claudius couldn’t even guess at his age. He could have been thirty or he could have been sixty. Claudius could see the man had a useless right arm. It just hung by his side and Claudius felt a pang of pity for the man. He was very interested in the horses and inspected them very closely. “Have either of them ever pulled a wagon or a plow?” he asked Claudius. Here again, another question that could trap him. Claudius paused to give thought to the appropriate answer. “Yes, this one has,” Claudius said, pointing to his pack animal. “The other one was my mother’s pet and he was only ridden for pleasure.” “It is a trade I would make with you, if you want my boat in exchange for the horses, but before you can decide, you will want to see my boat. She isn’t much to look at but she is a sound, seaworthy vessel. Come, she is berthed only a short distance from here.” Claudius left his two horses, with the blacksmith, while he and Bartaal went to inspect the boat. It was much larger craft than Claudius wanted. He guessed her length to be about twenty-eight feet. She sat low in the water and carried a leather sail, furled atop her sturdy cross-boom. Her mast was thick and also sturdy, a rugged craft that would take a lot of punishment. “She sits low in the water Bartaal, is she carrying cargo?” “No Claudus, she has no hold to speak of. She sits low because she is a typical Veneti craft. If you look about you will notice, all the boats, in this harbor, have flat bottoms and sit low in the water.” A flat bottom boat presented an entirely new set of problems to Claudius. He had never sailed a flat bottom boat before, but in view of his circumstances, and his prior sailing experience, he felt he could learn quickly enough. He closed the deal with Bartaal. The two men shook hands, each feeling that they had made a good trade. “Are you going to farm with the horses?” Claudius asked Bartaal. “I have an old wagon that I am going to fix-up to haul freight goods for a fee. I can’t pull nets anymore, but I can drive a team of horses. My son is young and strong, he doesn’t want to fish for the rest of his life but he agreed to help me to load the wagons. We will be able to make a decent living. Your horses were the first stroke of good luck I have had in a long time.” “It is a sound plan Bartaal. I know you will succeed at it,” Claudius said, shaking the man’s left hand and patting him on his good shoulder. Claudius retrieved his belongings from his pack animal and stowed them aboard his new boat. Bartaal furnished him with a water ration and provisions for the journey, some fruit, dried vegetables, smoked meats and fish. “I didn’t think to ask you before, but, do you know how to sail Claudus?” Bartaal asked. “No Bartaal, I know nothing of sailing, other than what my mother told me, but I will soon learn. How hard can it be?” Bartaal just smiled but said nothing. “You will be alright. It may take you a few days to get the feel of the helm, but you will soon learn. Just stay close to shore, but not to close and don’t get caught out in deep water during a storm. Make landfall as soon as

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you see any bad weather approaching, you know dark threatening clouds, strong winds and such. I will pray for your safety and may ‘The Shinning One’ guide your way.” Claudius slept aboard the boat that night and when the tide rose, shortly after sunup, he pushed off, made sail and headed out to sea. Jarcus had also come down to the pier to see him off and he and Bartaal waved a goodbye. Claudius watched as the waving figures, became smaller and smaller and eventually disappeared into the backdrop of the surrounding land. Claudius set his course due south. He had gained some insight from Bartaal, who had sailed the waters around Carnute for some twenty-seven years. He told Claudius of a large shipyard, operated by the Pictone tribe. It was many days south by sea. Bartaal said he had never sailed that far, but he assured Claudius that, many Veneti sailors had been there and testified to its existence. If he followed the coast, he would eventually come upon it. The travel phase of his plan didn’t worry Claudius too much. What posed a dilemma was, how to meld with the Pictones in a seemingly natural way? He wracked his brain trying to think of an ingenious way to accomplish this task. The only logical way was to fake a shipwreck, and pretend to be forced in by a storm. He realized he would have to destroy his boat, to make his pretense look authentic. He also realized how potentially dangerous his plan could be, but he couldn’t see any other viable options. He followed the coastline ever southward, day after day. Sometimes he would anchor just offshore to sleep, other times he would find a suitable spot, beach the boat and enjoy a hot fire and cooked food. The boat’s flat bottom allowed him to ply very shallow waters but made it extremely difficult to push the boat back in the water. He resorted to his notched stick, to count the days, which now numbered twentyeight. On the twenty ninth day, at midmorning, he was sailing around a long rocky neck of land, when suddenly, there it was, in the foggy distance, a shipyard. He was too far away to discern any great detail but there was no mistaking what it was, two long covered sheds and what looked like ways, extending from the seaward ends of the sheds, right to the water’s edge, to facilitate moving ships into and out of the water. Just like Brundisium, but on a much smaller scale. He immediately came about, in as tight an arc as he could steer, back the way he had come. His boat responded sluggishly. He hoped some idle observer hadn’t spotted him and wondered why he had turned around. Before long the spit of land, he had nearly passed, was miles behind. He scanned the rocky coastline looking for a suitable place to conceal the boat. As if sent by the Gods, a small rocky cove appeared and he steered toward it. The cove was about a mile wide and almost the same distance in depth. There were no beaches only a rocky shore, heavily wooded, right up to the water’s edge. He lowered the sail and tried to maneuver into a favorable position, so that any passing craft would not easily spot him. Satisfied that he was far enough from the open sea, to be well concealed, he dropped anchor, a short distance from shore, then waded in. Using his sword, he cut some large, leafy branches from the nearby trees. He lashed them to the boat, at various places, along the gunwales, up the mast and across the boom, aiming to blend into the trees at the water’s edge. He labored for several hours until he was satisfied that spotting his craft, from a passing boat, would be very difficult. He set to work finalizing his plans for meeting the Pictones.

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He left the boat riding at anchor, while he scouted the area. After searching for several hours he discovered a small cave. He transferred all of his Roman belongings to the cave, his weapons and armor in one location, clothing in another. While securing his gear, he looked at the sword Aggie had given him. He ran his fingertips over the inscription. “Death Life Peace,” would he ever know its true meaning? He thought about Aggie and her vision, one that she wouldn’t share with him, and he missed her more, for it. If only she were here to guide me, he thought. He also thought about his father and how much he and Aggie meant to him, and he wondered if he would ever see them again. After concealing his belongings, he set out to scout the area. He hiked along the coast, all the way back to the shipyard, which he observed from a safe distance. From an elevated height, he had a commanding, unobstructed view, for miles around. The day was clear and sunny and he could clearly distinguish the shipyard activities. He observed for the rest of that day and half the next, occasionally moving to different locations, being careful not to be observed. He absorbed every detail, and stored those details in his mind for future reference. He couldn’t risk a fire to keep warm so he passed the first night huddled in his bedroll, cold and damp. He slept fitfully and awoke stiff and cold the next morning. The yard was part of a very large village, which strongly resembled the Veneti village he had just left, except, much bigger, with many more wooden buildings and many more round, thatched huts. One might even call it a city. The city sat at the base of a small range of mountains, the two separated by some flat plains and foothills before the mountain slopes began their rise. There were abundant forests and literally miles and miles of open land, much of which appeared to be cultivated. The shipyard appeared to be very busy with two large vessels under construction. They had the same type of rigging as his craft and the inevitable flat bottom. I guess this is the way boats are built in this part of the world, Claudius mused. Once he came close to being spotted when he encountered two small boys, with fishing poles, traveling on the same path, he had chosen to follow. He just managed to evade their notice by diving into some thick trailside brush. Their chatter never slowed, as they passed by him, so, he knew he had escaped their notice. He recognized some of their words as similar to the Veneti tongue. After this extensive scouting trip he returned to his secluded cove to wait. All I need now is a typical summer thunderstorm and I can put my plan into action. The storm, when it struck, was anything but typical. It came howling in off of Atlanticus, in the dead of night. Claudius had decided to sleep on board, that particular night. He was awakened when the boat started to heave violently and strain against its anchor rope. It spun about, with the prow headed directly into the gale force wind. Peering into the darkness, he could barely make out the waves crashing into the rocky shore off to his port side, the waves were also breaking heavily over the bow of his boat and the wind drove the rain, hard, into his face. This was the storm he had been waiting for and he weighed the odds of attempting to execute his plan, in total darkness. If I wait until daylight the storm may blow itself out. If I choose to go in the darkness, I will be at an even greater risk. He

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chose to go ahead with his plan, silently praying to the Goddess Fortuna not to desert him. He even uttered a short prayer to the Veneti God ‘Lugus’, ‘The Shinning One’. He cut away the lashed tree limbs and began to part the anchor rope. He had to abrade the rope, not cut it cleanly. It had to appear to have been broken, a minor detail, he thought, but an important one. Using his dagger to scrape, he held the knife in two hands and ran the blade back and forth over the anchor rope, the boat tossing wildly, the waves breaking over the bow and the wind driven salt spray stinging his eyes. He labored, in the darkness, by feel. Suddenly the line parted and the boat broke free and began to drift toward the rocky shore. He struggled to raise about three feet of sail, and then ran quickly back to take the tiller. He pulled with all his might and slowly the boat began to swing around to a tacking position. He could feel the boat, scraping bottom as she swung around, the sail was fluttering wildly then it caught the wind, and he shot out into the bay. Thank the Veneti for the flat bottom, he thought. It was exhausting work and it sapped his strength. The wind was in an onshore direction, which made his work doubly difficult. Safely away from the rocks, he was now able to make full sail. When the big square leather sail picked up the full force of the wind, he tacked, and the boat leapt out of the cove, into the open sea. The flat bottom of the boat made her very stable in the rough sea but she didn’t ride over the waves like “Aggie”, she plowed through them. Each time this happened, the boat took on some water. Claudius used every sailing skill he had ever learned, just to keep her headed in the right direction. Every time he tacked the little boat was heavily buffeted by the wind and the waves. At these times, the flat bottom kept her from capsizing, the angry sea just pushed her sideways. He struggled this way for hours. The sky was heavily overcast but he could now see daylight coming and visibility, although limited, was starting to improve. He didn’t know how close he was to his destination, he just kept repeating his maneuvering, tack and come about, tack and come about. Suddenly he spotted the spit of land he had seen the day he came upon the shipyard for the first time. It was almost invisible through the rain, wind and fog but it was dead ahead. He attempted to come about, to head out to sea and gain the proper position for beaching his craft, when he heard a loud ripping sound. He looked up to see his leather sail starting to part at one of its seams. The tattered end began to whip around the mast and the tear grew longer. Suddenly a strong gust of wind tore it free and sent most of it over the side. He watched it disappear into the angry sea. With only the rudder, and no sail, Claudius was now at the mercy of the wind and the waves. He was headed toward the rocky shore, of the spit of land; the wind was at his back, driving him there. The waves were huge, breaking over him from astern, filling the boat with more and more water each time. The water she had been taking on was almost up to the gunwales and Claudius could only hang on to keep from being swept overboard. Suddenly, with no warning, a monster wave picked up the sinking boat and sent it hurtling toward the jagged rocks of the spit of land. Claudius leapt into the sea to keep from sharing the boat’s inevitable fate.

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He never actually saw the crash, but he heard it, a sickening crunch as the little craft was turned into splinters, lifted to the wave top and smashed onto the rocks. I have to get to those rocks, he thought, otherwise, I will drown. Every time he was raised up on a swell, he could see them, ahead of him, huge, jagged, and menacing. Exhausted from his struggles, he swam toward the rocks, closer and closer to his fate. He was picked up by a wave and swept into those rocks. He could feel their jagged, barnacle covered, edges raking over his feet and legs. He knew he was badly cut and bleeding, if I can just get a handhold, he thought. Then, he was picked up again and slammed down, directly into the rocks. His left leg took the brunt of the force and he could feel his shin bone snap under the impact. The waves would bring him in and when they receded, the back tow would carry him out, just far enough to prevent him from gaining a hold. This is not what I planned; I did not intend to die like this, he thought, as he began to lose consciousness. His last conscious thoughts were of his mother, his father, Aggie, Marcus and suddenly, there was his mother, his beautiful mother, he could see her, reaching out a hand to him, he reached out to her, as another wave picked him up, carried him on its crest and slammed him down, rolling him over and over, and then, nothing, only blackness. There was an old man looking down at him. He could tell he was old because his hair and beard were totally white. He had kind blue eyes, the kindest eyes Claudius had ever seen. The skin at the edges of the eyes was wrinkled, from smiling, as he was doing now and his whole head and neck were framed by the blue sunlit sky. Where am I? Am I in Elysium; am I even alive, he thought, searching the old man’s face for answers? Then the old man spoke. “How are you feeling my son?” The language sounded strange and accented; yet, he thought the old man asked how he was. “I don’t feel very well. My entire body aches, and my leg hurts a lot,” Claudius replied, in the Veneti tongue. The old man smiled and said, “You are very lucky to be alive, you know. I found what was left of your boat and it really isn’t a boat anymore. It is kindling for my fireplace now. How is it you happen to be here? You are not a Pictone!” “I am Veneti. I was out fishing, far, far to the south of my village of Carnute. I saw the weather signs but I waited too long to seek shelter and I was swept up in a giant storm. I have been battling the wind and the sea for,” he paused, “I don’t know for how long. How long have I been lying here?” “I’m not sure the,” old man said. “There was a bad storm, two days ago, maybe you have been her for two days. My grandson and I came out on the spit to do some fishing this morning and we saw you lying on the sand. We also saw your leg is broken. I sent my grandson for help. He will bring men with a litter and he will also summon Solsana. She will take a look at your leg. Here, take a drink of water.” Claudius rose up, on one elbow and took a water skin from the old man. Every movement sent wracking pain through his body. He drank and drank, as though he had never tasted fresh water before. Finally, he lowered the water skin, breathless and smiled wanly at the old man. “Thank you old one. That is the best drink of water I have ever had. My name is Claudi…, Claudus.”

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The old man smiled and nodded. “I am called Govanus and my grandson is Berhus.” Claudius struggled to get into a sitting position to look at himself. A wave of nausea and pain swept over him but it passed. His legs were cut in many places. The cuts didn’t appear to be deep but his skin was crusted over with salt and sand, making them sting. His left leg looked strange. It wasn’t out straight, like the right one, it seemed to have a hitch in it and lay at an odd angle. He tried to move it. An excruciating pain shot up his left side causing him to blanch. The old man placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “You shouldn’t try to move too much now. We will get you to my house then Solsana will see to your wounds. Best to lie still, help will be here soon.” The rescue group arrived with a litter. Two strong young men carefully lifted Claudius and placed him on it, carrying him easily while Govanus and his grandson followed along. They made their way to the old man’s shack, up on a hill, overlooking the spit of land that had saved Claudius from drowning. Solsana, as it turned out, was the village healer. She was even older than Govanus. The instant Claudius saw her, she reminded him of Aggie and that empty space in his heart. She had long white hair peeking out from under a motley scarf, tightly tied under her chin, the loose ends thrown carelessly over her shoulders. She wore a long shapeless dress, made of sackcloth gathered about her waist with a piece of twine. Her authority belied her looks as she barked orders to all present. Using both the young strong litter bearers, as counters, she was able to pull and reset the bone in Claudius’ left leg. She was surprisingly strong and had obviously done this many times before. When she was satisfied the broken bones were properly aligned, she sent Berhus to fetch two straight pieces of driftwood. When they arrived, she laid them along the broken leg and bound the assemblage with some strips of cloth. She had also brought a crutch with her, which she said Claudius could use whenever he felt up to it. “Just return it to me when you no longer have a use for it. There will be others to use it, I’m sure,” she said. Once the leg was set, she washed his other wounds and liberally smeared some sort of foul smelling salve on them. “Do not wash the ointment off,” she said, “I know it smells bad but it will prevent the fever and the flies won’t land on it.” She poked and prodded him some more and finally seemed satisfied that the rest of him was all right. “You must rest now. Your body needs you to treat it well, you should do so,” she said, wagging an old wrinkled finger at him finger at him, with an air of unquestioned authority. “I will take your advice Solsana and many thanks for your kindness and your skill. How may I repay all that you have done for me?” “Why just bring me a fish to eat, just as everyone else does,” she replied, gathering up her belongings and heading for the door. The old man offered lodging to Claudius, for as long as he might need it. It wasn’t long before Claudius, Govanus and Berhus became fast friends. After Claudius had sufficiently rested and his wounds began to properly heal, he tried to hobble around using the crutch. He hadn’t really moved around too much, after his rescue, and he could sense his body becoming loose and his muscles losing their hardness. He knew, despite the pain, that he must begin to move.

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His first forays, using the crutch, were a disaster. At first he fell and Berhus laughed and had to help him get up. Soon however, he was able to hop around, quite readily, on the crutch, and even took it as a good form of exercise. The broken leg was still painful but after two market intervals, the pain disappeared. He could feel the leg gaining strength. He tested it daily, putting a little more weight on it each time, for longer and longer periods. I must be patient, it will take a while. Govanus had once been a fisherman, to old now to pull nets, he now kept busy repairing them. He taught Claudius how to do it and soon, the two of them could be seen, sitting outside of Govanus’ shack, busily chatting and mending fishing nets. Claudius learned much, of the ways of the Pictones, from Govanus and the village fishermen who partook of the net mending service. Claudius didn’t know if a steady diet, of sea food, prepared in a hundred different ways, was the reason for his rapid mending, but, he was soon able to hobble around without the crutch, and shortly after that, the supporting splints came off. It was strange at first. He had to relearn balance, all over again. He tentatively tested the leg taking short walks on level ground. There was no pain only some slight muscle stiffness, which he attributed to lack of use. The stiffness soon went away. His daily walks became longer and soon evolved into trots over short distances. He hadn’t dared to take any marathon runs yet, but he knew and felt, all his physical abilities would return soon. Time passed, several months, as Claudius healed, fully. His adopted people also seemed to accept him. His walks and runs became familiar occurrences within the community known as Verdueen. He occasionally trotted through the village, or its outskirts, often stopping to chat with some of his regular net-mending customers and their families. It wasn’t long before people were waving as he passed addressing him by his name, “greetings Claudus, how is the net mending business, how is the leg”, they would ask, “Give our regards to Govanus”, and so on. They were a good-natured people these Pictones, he thought. They were quick to see the humor in a situation and quick to laugh at themselves. He also returned to swimming in the sea, a pastime and exercise regimen he had sorely missed. His exercise regimens were a great help in restoring his body and his self-confidence. He asked his friend Govanus, “You once noticed a slight accent in my speech, when I first arrived, broken and battered after my boat was wrecked. Do you remember old one?” “Yes my son, I remember.” “What do you think now, after these past several months, do I still speak with an accent?” Govanus paused to think a moment, scratched his chin, then pulled at his ear a little, and said, “You know, I really don’t think you have an accent anymore, Claudus. You speak as though you have lived here all of your life.” Claudius caught himself smiling unconsciously. It felt good to hear Govanus say that, my disguise is working, he thought. One particular sparkling autumn day, Claudius cut his daily run short. He was at the edge of town and decided to slow down and just amble along. It felt good to breathe the warm air and enjoy the sights and sounds of the village. Although everyone called it a village, compared to Carnute, Verdueen was more like a city. It spread over a vast area.

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He had never explored all of it but he estimated it would take half a day’s journey just to traverse it. The streets of Verdueen were lined with inns and shops of all sorts and he often observed many merchants, in strange clothing, buying and selling goods, of every description. He had seen these strange men arrive, their caravans loaded with goods to trade and to sell. He had also seen them come by boat, as the huge harbor was not far from the shack he shared with Govanus. Much of the waterborne traffic, passed by Govanus’ shack on its way to anchorage or to docking. He had often watched as wagon after wagon took a load from the ships, at the piers, and transferred the goods into the city, filling the shops and stalls with merchandize from far away lands. A lot like Rome, and Brundisium, in that regard, he thought. When he visited the shops, he saw many different forms of currency in use, gold coins, copper rings, rare shells and silver coins, and the most valuable commodity of all, salt. Verdueen boasted a small salt mine just to the east of the city, which did a thriving business selling the salt to local merchants and shipping it to far flung destinations, by land and sea. So, on this most pleasant of days, Claudius was surprised to see two local merchants arguing in the street, as he walked along. He wasn’t exactly sure what started it; but it sounded as though it had to do with one vendor stealing the customers of the other. The two men were about to come to blows. Several bystanders had intervened and the two men were now under restraint. One of the combatants, appearing frustrated, suddenly stepped back and loudly stated, “I would put it before the council.” Just as suddenly, his opponent stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest and declared, just as loudly, “I will also go before the council.” When the two men had made their statements, they immediately calmed down, then just stood and waited. Not long after the calm down period, another man approached the pair. He was clad in long flowing robes of a grayish color and carried a staff, equal to his height. In the meantime, a crowd had been forming and when the robed man appeared, the crowd magically parted allowing him passage, the crowd bowing their heads as he did so. He was all business, this robed one, and as Claudius observed the proceedings. The robed man interviewed each of the adversaries separately. Claudius watched fascinated with the calming affect the robed man had on the entire situation. While observing all of these goings on, Claudius spotted a man named Mictael, he was a village fisherman and a net mending customer. I must discover what’s going on, he thought, so he casually strolled over to the man. “Greetings Mictael, how are you this fine day?” “Oh Claudus the net mender, greetings to you and yes it is a fine day. Have you been watching what’s going on over there,” Mictael said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the two antagonists. “I came upon the scene late and I never knew what started the whole thing,” Claudius said. “It was some argument about one stealing the other’s customers. I believe they are both beekeepers and they both deal in selling honey from their hives.”

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“I couldn’t believe how they calmed down when the man in the long robes appeared, it was amazing. Who is he?” “He is a Druid priest Claudus. They are holy men gifted by the Gods to hold authority over the people. Their words are highly respected and often become law. Have you not heard of them before?” Claudius reigned himself in, to answer carefully, “I have heard of them before, I have never seen one up close. Where I come from they are councilors in war, mostly. They speak only to the tribal chiefs never to ordinary folk, like us.” “Yes, I have heard that also. Here we have no war, so they are summoned to settle disputes, like the one you just witnessed.” “What will happen now?” Claudius asked. “Well let’s see, usually in a few days time, these two arguers, and those that would speak for them, appear before the council of Druids who hear their arguments and make a ruling how the dispute will be settled. The decision of the council is binding law and the ruling must be obeyed.” “What if one of the parties doesn’t like the ruling?” “Oh, no one ever complains, at least I have never heard of anyone refusing to comply with a ruling. I guess the person disagreeing would be banished from the village. It just never happens. You sound very interested Claudus, would you care to attend the council gathering on this matter?” “I would Mictael, I would. I think it is very interesting, this council thing.” “Well my friend, these public meetings are held every day, in the village center, at midday, weather permitting. I think this dispute may come to hearing in two days time.” “I believe I will attend. I want to see how the ‘Council’ will resolve the dispute.” In two days time, Claudius took his leave of Govanus, just before noon. “I am going to the village to listen to the settling of a dispute,” he said to the old man. Govanus nodded and smiled. “Yes, it can be very interesting to see what the council decides. Enjoy it my son. Hopefully, you, or I will never have a personal experience with.” When Claudius arrived at the village center, he had no difficulty identifying the site. There was a large pavilion, permanently constructed of stone, and wood, with a thatched reed roof. It was a raised structure built in a semi-circular shape with seven carved wooden chairs placed symmetrically in its center. The center chair was larger than the other six and much more elegantly carved than the others. A tall bearded man, clad in a flowing white robe, occupied the center chair. Six other Druids, clothed in gray robes occupied the others. Claudius knew the white robe signified the senior Druid. Claudius recognized one of the gray robes to be the Druid from the scene two days before. He also recognized the two men he had seen arguing. Each man had a companion with him and these four stood before the tribunal. The Druid in the center chair seemed to be a man of about fifty years old. He had a youngish face but the hair and beard were flecked with gray. He was a commanding presence, Claudius thought, and then he rose to speak, his voice matched his demeanor and boomed out over the large assemblage. The crowd quieted immediately, anxiously awaiting what the Druid had to say.

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Claudius couldn’t hear all of the oration, but the gist of the dispute was thus. It concerned the price of honey, as both men were beekeepers and sold the product of their bees, in the village and also to merchants from neighboring villages. What appeared to be happening was that the merchants were manipulating the two bee keepers by shuttling back and forth between them, driving down the price until they negotiated the lowest price from the keeper willing to drop his price the most. One of the litigants was objecting because he had higher operating costs and couldn’t sell his honey at a price his competitor could. It was an age-old problem, the buyers conspiring against the suppliers. It will be interesting to see how the council resolves this, Claudius thought. Once all the parties concerned had presented their cases, the council adjourned to confer privately and announced that it would reconvene at mid afternoon to announce their judgment. Claudius anxiously wanting to hear the verdict, strolled the village, to kill time, stopped at a tavern for a cup of native mead and a pastry filled with ground lamb and boiled spiced cabbage, and then headed back to the pavilion. The sun was starting to sink to the horizon when the council returned and took up their respective seats. Raising his hand for silence, the head Druid unrolled a scroll and began reading from it. By the Gods, they have a written language, Claudius thought. The white robed priest began, “We on the council have heard the pleas of these two men, Lantus and Zeblad, bee keepers both. This law is written to protect all beekeepers, henceforth. This law insures that they will receive fair payment for their goods, which are the product of their labors. The law is as stated, ‘All beekeepers will meet and form a council. They will decide, amongst themselves, what the price of honey should be. The price they decide will be what all buyers must pay. The price agreed upon shall be fair and must be reviewed and accepted by this council and the ‘Council of Elders’, before it is adopted. Once approved, this price will be the sell price for all beekeepers. Any evidence of a conspiracy, to manipulate prices, will be punished by banishment. This is the law of the land from this moment forward.” The head Druid then handed the scroll to one of the other council members, bowed slightly and left the pavilion. Claudius could see the two disputants nodding their heads, smiling and shaking hands, apparently pleased with the ruling. By the sword of Mars, it’s much like the Roman senate, Claudius thought, as he walked toward his home on the beach. Walking along, immersed in his own thoughts, Claudius never knew what caused him to look up, but when he did, he realized he was walking past the ship yard and his curiosity got the better of him. It was still early for the evening meal, so he decided to detour, through the shipyard, and see how the Pictones built ships. It was a far cry from Brundisium, but in its own way, the Pictone ship yard was primitively impressive. Claudius noticed a sawpit, similar to the one he had labored in. He identified a sail loft, blacksmith shop, rope making shop, carpenter shop, pitch pits and, of course, the workers all joining in a common effort to build ships. It was similar to Brundisium but operating on a much smaller scale. There were two ships under construction that were of equal size. They both had the characteristic flat bottom and by their looks, were to become merchant ships, plying the coastal waters of Atlanticus.

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Claudius also observed the workers. They all seemed to be happy and he could see many chatting and joking, as they worked. Always a good sign when worker morale was high. There was a third ship in the infancies of construction. It was sited ahead of one of the ships on the ways and much smaller than the other two, and looked more like the ships he had been involved with at the Brundisium yard. He stopped to observe the work going on. She looks like a larger version of my little boat “Aggie”, he thought. The keel had been laid and the curved ribs were being fastened to it in preparation for receiving the skin planking. She will be a fine craft Claudius thought, as he admired the workmanship. “You like our little ‘Sea Eagle’?” a voice behind him said. Claudius turned to see the source of the voice. He was tall and lean in a wiry sort of way. His facial features were a bit hawkish and he looked at Claudius with a striking pair of blue eyes. He seemed to be about Claudius’ age and was bearded as Claudius was but the beard was cropped close and neatly trimmed. The man spoke softly yet his voice carried the authority that was accustomed to directing men. “I have seen you around the village. You are the sailor who was shipwrecked, are you not?” “I am,” Claudius said, “The very same.” “You look quite healthy. Govanus must be treating and feeding you well. My name is Vorel,” the man said, extending his hand to Claudius. Claudius took the man’s hand, returned his smile and said, “My name is Claudus, and yes, Govanus has been most gracious to me, helping me to regain my health. I also am impressed with this boat you are building. You’re going to call her ‘Sea Eagle’, is it?” “Yes, she happens to be my pet project. She is the third one we have built. We are trying to depart from the flat bottom boats of our ancestors and create a new design for deep waters. We have seen the ships of other nations and we have been trying to come up with a design that works for us. Do you know anything about building boats?” “I actually do know some. I helped build the boat that lies in wreckage over there on the sand spit rocks, but alas, she was a flat bottom affair, just as the two you are building. I am from a village called Carnute, it’s far to the north of Verdueen, do you know of it Vorel?” “No Claudianus, the name is not familiar to me, but you are Veneti, so we are neighbors, of a sorts, although, very distant neighbors.” “I am curious,” Claudius said, “You mentioned that there this boat is the third ‘Sea Eagle’, where are the other two?” Vorel looked at Claudius a little sheepishly and said, “I truly regret to say, they were both sunk and lost during sea trials. Both vessels operated well when the weather was calm, however, as one can imagine, the true test of a vessel’s worth is how she performs in rough weather. In both instances, with ‘Sea eagle’ one and two, we took each ship out to sea during a storm, and both times, the keel snapped, and the ships broke up and Nessa, ‘The Sea Mother’ took them to be with her. We lost two sailors when ‘Sea Eagle’ number two sank. There is an inherent flaw in the design that we can’t seem to correct.” Claudius had some knowledge of the problem of which Vorel spoke. The ship builders of Brundisium had solved it many years ago. He thought he could help Vorel but he didn’t want to tip his hand, as to his true background, so he concocted a story to explain his experience. “As I mentioned Vorel, I worked in a boat yard in the village of

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Carnute. There was an old man working there, his name was Kapedes. He didn’t do much manual labor, just sweeping and stoking the fires and mending sails but he had worked his way from slave to freedman, by helping to build boats when he was a younger man. He told me he migrated from a country called Carthage. He spoke of the ‘Pillars of Hercules’, far to the south of here, and how the pillars were gigantic sheer rock cliffs that rose up from the sea to great heights, and how he sailed between them into the vast sea, that we know as Atlanticus. After months at sea, living off raw fish and rain water, he was caught up in a fierce storm and swept ever northward and how he was shipwrecked on the rocks near the village of Carnute. Those that found him made him a slave to work in the ship yards. He knew much about building boats and he shared his knowledge with his captors. The master boat builder tried some of his ideas, and they were good ideas, that worked, and that was how he came to be free. Then he grew old and new people took over the yard, and they didn’t know him, and passed him off as a silly old man. Then he confided in me because I befriended him and he told me of his life and how he helped to build warships for Cilician pirates. Great triremes with many oars and huge lateen sails, that roamed the seas preying on merchant vessels from Sicily and Spain, and how the Romans came and defeated the pirates and routed them. To escape, they took to small boats and scattered, in all directions, to keep from being enslaved or crucified. He had such stories, very entertaining certainly, true, who knows?” “It is a fascinating story Claudianus, please go on.” “Well, as I mentioned, the old man knew much about building boats. He used to draw sketches on a piece of wood using a blackened twig. I can see by looking at your progress, that you have included some of the ideas he spoke about.” “You do? Do you see any glaring mistakes in our design,” Vorel asked, now suddenly very eager to know more? “I am trying to remember. It is a flood of memory and it is difficult to sort out but there are a few things I remember clearly. Kapedes said the keel must be one piece of the strongest hard wood. It must be fashioned from the center of the tree, not the edges, and the wood must be free of any large knots. The diagonal measure of the square keel must be one half foot for every ten feet of length, although it could be bigger, but that is the smallest it could be.” “You do remember Claudus, tell me, what if you fell the tree, plane it down to size, then discover a large knot, what then,” Vorel asked? “Why then you must discard it and start anew,” Claudius replied. He could see Vorel thinking. “Is there anything else you can remember Claudus?” “Yes, there are some other things I remember. He showed me how to join the bowsprit and the sternpost to the keel, for maximum strength. He also said one must use bronze nails, so the sea would not eat them up.” Claudius could clearly see Vorel’s enthusiasm rising, and he became more and more animated, as the conversation continued. “I have a proposal for you. I want you to come to work for me, here, at the shipyard. Do you think you could sketch the ideas of this Kapedes, as they return to your memory?”

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Pausing to think a moment, Claudius realized this opportunity could enhance his position in the community immeasurably and replied, “I think I could recall much of it Vorel. It is an excellent opportunity and I am definitely interested. I must admit, net mending isn’t the most challenging work; but first, I must speak with Govanus. I don’t want to leave him short handed. You understand my concern?” “Yes Claudus, by all means. I know Govanus well. He will encourage you to accept my offer. Does he pay you for your labors Claudus?” “Just food and lodging Vorel, but that is more than enough.” “This job pays a wage and it also provides food and lodging, in the loft over the carpenter’s shed. It is warm in the winter and provides more than adequate shelter. You can take your meals with me and my wife, who I may add, is an excellent cook. My house is just across the way from the shed. Speak with Govanus tonight and come back and give me your answer tomorrow.” “I shall Vorel, I shall,” Claudius answered. The next day Claudius accepted Vorel’s offer and a very happy Vorel welcomed Claudius into his employ. It was like old times, the shipyard, the loft, and warm friendly people accepting him and caring about what he thought. He could never have imagined that becoming a spy would lead him to such an opportunity. The thought of it all made him miss his father, Aggie, Galbus and Faberius, all of his old friends, but now, he had new friends, and yes, he still had his duty to perform. He and Vorel held each other in mutual respect and soon became friends. He enjoyed working with the man. Vorel had a keen mind that quickly grasped the information Claudius related to him. Claudius remembered much of what he had seen, in Brundisium, and much of what Faberius had taught him about shipbuilding. The “Sea Eagle” began to take shape, with improvements that Claudius initiated. She was slated to be about forty feet long with a curved lap strake hull. She would be able to carry cargo and slip over the waves as easily as any modern Roman built vessel. Claudius explained the need for proper ballast, which a flat-bottomed vessel didn’t need, as much, but, with the curved hull design, ballast was a necessity. The days flew quickly by for Claudius. Work from sun-up to sundown, sleep and eat. This became his daily routine with little time for anything else. The plan was to get the ship into the water before the cold winter weather set in. Both men were totally involved with the completion of “Sea Eagle”, their labors often carried over from day to night, forcing they, and their men, to work by lantern light, with Claudius often sleeping at the boat building shed. “She is almost done Claud,” Vorel said, which was how he and all the others, at the shipyard had begun addressing Claudius. “We have a few finishing touches to do in the forward hold, give her some ballast, caulk the seams, and apply the pitch. After that, she will be ready for launch.” “She is a beauty Vorel, you should be very proud of your work.” “Correction Claud, we, should be very proud of our work.” “I stand corrected my friend, we, and our, is appropriate,” Claudius said, with a smile and a laugh.

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“I am going to save the celebrating until after the sea trials Claud. We will put her in the water as soon as she is tight, however, I won’t feel reassured until we take her to sea in rough weather. I hope you plan to come along.” Visions of his near death encounter, during his last sea voyage, immediately leapt into Claudius’ mind and he looked at Vorel a little squeamishly. He knew Vorel knew what he was thinking. “I wouldn’t even think of missing the opportunity to put her to the test Vorel. I will be there at your side.” This produced an ear-to-ear grin in Vorel’s face and Claudius also noted, a slight sigh of relief. The storm, when it arrived, wasn’t with the intensity of Claudius’ storm, but it wasn’t far off. Vorel, Claudius and four other men, all volunteers, put to sea with a gale force winds and wind driven waves that lashed the rocks in a torrent of foamy white water. The ship, seemingly very large, when under construction in dry dock, now seemed small and insignificant compared to the fury of the storm. The six men had to yell at each other, at the top of their lungs, to be heard above the wind. The crew had a great deal of difficulty getting underway. The force of the wind abeam, kept pushing them back into the pier. The fenders, hanging over the side took the brunt of the force but “Sea Eagle” shuddered each time she was slammed into the pier. Eventually, after great physical effort, and some clever mooring line handling, she broke free of the pier and ran out into the harbor. They sailed out of the inner harbor into the open sea under half sail, after they had reached a safe distance, from the shore, Vorel ordered full sail and the “Eagle” shot forward with the wind and the sea behind her. “She is so fast Claud, it takes one’s breath away,” Vorel shouted to Claudius. “Let’s bring her about to see how she handles the stress on her timbers.” The helmsman slowly swung the tiller until the sail started to flutter then one of the other crewmen brought the boom around and the sail snapped full once more, and the “Eagle” shot ahead. “I didn’t hear anything snap Vorel just some normal groaning and creaking. So far, so good.” “She rides the waves Claud, she doesn’t plow through them like the other ships. She does seem stable enough; we must have the ballast about right. I’m going below to check the timbers and make sure there are no tell-tale cracks or leaks.” “I will go with you Vorel. You take the bow and I will go astern and we’ll meet amidships.” Both men descended the ladder into the hold and lit lanterns. The “Sea Eagle” creaked and groaned from the stress she was under, as Claudius and Vorel closely inspected every joint and seam; neither man could find any evidence of structural damage. She had some water in her bilges but nothing beyond the ordinary leakage common with lap strake construction. Over time, her skin would swell and she would hardly leak at all, Claudius thought. When the two men met amidships, each looked at the other and grinned, and then they hugged, clapping each other on the back, a sign of their obvious success. “I believe we have done it Claudianus, we have done it! She is all that I expected and more. She plies the waves as though she were born to the sea, like a fish, Vorel exclaimed! They both broke into spontaneous laughter as a sign of their relief and their happiness.

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The crew put “Sea Eagle” through her paces for the better part of the day. The storm was beginning to abate when they decided to head for home. When they reached the pier, poled her forward and glided into the pier, the total shipyard workforce was lined up along it. Vorel raised his fist in triumph and all the workers erupted into a loud cheer. “You all had a hand in this,” Vorel shouted. “I salute you all, for this success, is as much yours, as it is mine.” With that, the workers erupted into a second, even louder, cheer. There was much merrymaking that night. Vorel had arranged for food and drink to be brought in, and shortly after landing, the entire crowd of workers and crew, returned to the yard and the celebration commenced, the lanterns burning far into the night and into the predawn hours. The next day, most of the shipyard workers seemed to be suffering from the same malady; bleary eyes and queasy stomachs. Around early afternoon the headaches and queasy stomachs disappeared and a sense of normality returned. “Well Claud, my friend, I am happy to inform you that our success has been duly noted. The village elders, of whom I am one, have heard of our success and already commissioned another ship. We are going to build a sixty footer Claud. I have already started to order the material.” “That’s fantastic news Vorel. It’s as if your dream is becoming a reality, one ship at a time. I have no doubt that in the very near future, Verdueen will have a fine fleet of merchant ships. All of Gaul will want you to ship their wares and even build ships for them.” “It’s due to you Claud. Without your knowledge we would still be making mistakes in our designs. Your knowledge and your memory put us over the top.” “Nonsense Vorel, you would have solved those design problems. It was just a matter of time.” “Maybe so Claud, maybe so, but in any event, the council of elders authorized me to give you a reward for your services. It is a great honor.” “A reward for doing what I enjoy? What is it Vorel, tell me?” “They want to award you a small piece of land from the public domain. It’s called a house plot. It will allow you enough land to build a house, plant a garden and even raise a few animals, if you so desire. It is a square plot, ten staids to a side.” “I don’t know what a staid is Vorel and even if I did know, I couldn’t accept such a gift. You already pay me and supply my food and lodging. That is enough,” Claudius replied. “Claud, listen to me and mark my words, this is an unusual honor and the elders would be highly insulted if you refused their offer. You have greatly helped our people to prosper. You have worked hard and you deserve this honor, accept it!” “It’s hard to refuse Vorel, especially when you put it like that. All right, I accept the offer of the elders. I shall build myself a house and Verdueen shall become my home.” For the first time in his life Claudius was to become a homeowner. With the help of his shipyard mates, he quickly built a sound, roomy house. He followed the construction practices of the rest of the village and in less than three market intervals, he left the sail loft and took up residence in his own cozy home, just before winter put an icy grip on the land of the Pictones.

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His shipyard notoriety had spread to the village itself and many of the local merchants, following the example set by the elders, donated items to him. Small pieces of furniture, bedding, kitchen utensils and various household items. Soon he was cooking for himself, and living comfortably and independently in his new home. The ten staid parcel of land turned out to be quite large and Claudius thought, that in the spring, he would look into taking on some animals, perhaps a few sheep and a horse to ride. He certainly had enough land for grazing. If Caesar could see me now, he unconsciously thought. That thought brought him sharply back to reality. What am I doing? I am a spy for the Roman army. I must not become attached to these people, they are the enemy. That finishing thought caused a small rend in his heart for he realized, at that moment, that he was becoming attached to the Pictones, more than he could have imagined. Winter soon arrived with a vengeance. Bitter cold and snow, lots of it. When the cold came much of the town’s activity slowed. Many of the shops closed and the bustling city of Verdueen took a winter’s nap. Work in the shipyard also slowed considerably, but did not cease, except on the very coldest of days. Vorel was anxious to keep working on the new ship, which was to be named “Sea Hawk”. The effort kept Vorel, Claudius and their construction crew, very busy and the winter seemed to pass quickly by. Claudius could not maintain his swimming regimen but he did continue to stay physically active. The months slipped by. Claudius had used much of his time, during the cold weather and made his new house very livable. He had expanded his simple fireplace to a large cooking hearth and bake oven. He also added shelving and cabinets. His mother would have been proud and right at home in his new kitchen. He thought of her often and he missed her greatly. Spring was getting closer now. The trees were beginning to bud and the warm days gave way to cool nights. The high meadows were rife with wild flowers. The farmers were plowing their fields to prepare for seeding the new crop. Many of the city shops had reopened and were well underway to stocking-up for the coming season. Claudius had been toying with the idea of taking several days off. He had approached Vorel about it and Vorel agreed, a few days away from the yard routine would be a good thing. “In fact, I may even do the same,” he had said, after he gave Claudius permission to go. I haven’t seen my weapons and belongings since I stowed them away in a cave, he thought. I must travel to my hiding place to make sure all of my possessions are still intact, and aside from that, it will be good to make trail again and re-sharpen my outdoor skills. He prepared for the excursion with leather leggings and a sound pair of goatskin boots treated with animal fat. A light leather jacket, with a hood, over a tunic, belted at the waist completed his outerwear. He also took his dagger, concealed, strapped to his leg, under his leggings, just in case, he thought. He took a packet with dried fish, dried fruit and some smoked venison, along with a canteen bottle, a useful gift from a merchant in Verdueen. The finishing touch was a sheepskin blanket, large enough to wrap himself in, given to him by another of Verdueen’s appreciative merchants. This will ward off any left over winter chill, he thought. He rose before sun-up the next day, ate a quick hearty breakfast and set off.

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There were still a lot of frozen patches of ground but most of the snow had melted. Claudius was glad he had taken his winter footwear. His feet stayed dry and warm as he hiked along. He made good time following the coastline heights and many of the natural landmarks were familiar to him, having passed them before during his earlier scouting forays. It had been nine months since he had first surveyed the shipyard. Much has happened in nine months, he thought, and much was unforeseen. He had no trouble locating the cave where all his belongings were hidden. It was readily apparent that no one had been there, after him, nothing had been disturbed. Some vegetation had grown over the cave opening, making it even more invisible than it already was. He retrieved his gear and checked everything over. Other than a little rust on his centurion’s helmet, everything looked to be in good shape. His sword felt strange in his hand. He held it up in the dim light and examined it and admired its beauty and balance. It made him think of his father Rufus, before he had known that he was indeed, his father. What was it Rufus used to say, “Do your drills to maintain your skills.” I shall do a few drills, just to refresh my memory, he thought, as he donned his armor and helmet, all the while thinking of Rufus, and what he had taught him. The first few moves felt awkward and unnatural. Relax and let the movement flow, he mused, let your instincts and training take over to guide your movements. He closed his eyes, stopped concentrating and in an instant, his movements became more fluid and confidant. Once again, the skill of the master swordsman returned. He continued the drills, just as Rufus had taught him, until he was sweating profusely. He stopped, sat down with his back against the cave wall and allowed his breathing to return to normal. When he had sufficiently cooled down he carefully re-oiled his weapons and armor, burnished his helmet, repacked everything and located a new hiding place within the cave. It looked like the night would be clear and he wanted to distance himself from his hiding place, so he set out and hiked inland for several miles. Dark was approaching rapidly. He decided to stop, build a fire, enjoy a hot meal and sleep under the stars. Gathering wood for his fire, he could smell a strong aroma of pine. He followed the scent he and found himself in a thick grove of the pleasant smelling trees. The needles on the branches were short and broad and gave off a very pleasant aroma when one held the branch to one’s nose. The aroma of the grove, although pleasant, was a bit overpowering. He decided to just cut an armful of the branches and bring them back to his campfire. He spread a layer of boughs on the ground. Then spread his sheepskin blanket, fleece side up, over that. He ate his meal of warm fish and vegetables, banked his fire to reflect the warmth from it, in the direction of his bedroll, then lay down on one half his sheepskin blanket, flipped it over, and covered himself with the other half. The aroma of the pine was intoxicating and he gazed up at the countless stars in a dark moonless sky. His last thoughts, before he fell asleep, were of Marcus. He remembered that Marcus and Portia had had a sheepskin blanket. Now I know why they liked that blanket so much, Claudius thought, as he drifted off to sleep. His mission to retrieve his gear was complete and satisfactory, and as a change of pace, he decided to head back to Verdueen by a new route, instead of just retracing his

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steps. He continued heading east. The village lay to his south. I shall head inland for a few miles then turn south and try to intercept the meadows in the hills above the village. The hills he was thinking about were visible from the shipyard and he had noticed that they were ablaze with brightly colored wild flowers, this time of year. Those vast patches of yellow and purple were a stunning sight from a distance; he thought he would like to see what they looked like from up close. His easterly journey inland was a challenging trek. The terrain was rocky and irregular. Keeping a good rapid pace, he was soon sweating profusely. When the sun reached its zenith he calculated that he had gone far enough east and turned due south. If my reckoning is correct, I should be arriving at those meadows at about mid-afternoon, he thought. When he turned south, the going was much easier; in fact, it was all downhill. As he traveled east he had also maintained a fairly high altitude, and the air was still chilly. Now that he was descending, the air turned warm and mild. He had to stop and remove his hooded leather shirt and stuff it in his bed roll. Relieved of the heavy garment he continued down the slope and there it was before him, stretching for several miles, countless numbers of purple and yellow flowers shaped like tiny little bowls, following the sun as it traveled toward its set. He stopped to take in the sight and breathe the scented air in great gulps. He walked through the flowers, touching them with his fingertips. He also noticed a tiny army of honeybees already starting their labors with these early blooms of the season. He wondered where the hive was and what the honey from these flowers, would taste like. Lost in his reverie, he was returned to the moment by the twittering of birds. They seemed to be excited over something. Turning to his left, he saw what was causing the excitement. It was a young girl. She was, about a hundred feet away from him, and she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was so beautiful, he had to look away, and when he looked back he was drawn to her eyes, bright, luminous and as near as he could tell from that distance, the loveliest shade of green. She stared straight ahead with her head tilted in a peculiar manner, as though she were listening to something other than the twitter of the birds. Her hair was long, down to her waist, the color of ripe wheat, shimmering as the sunlight played across it. She gave no indication that she had seen him and he stood there motionless, transfixed. She had her arms outstretched and the wild birds proceeded to alight on the top of her head, on her shoulders and on her outstretched hands. The birds chirped and twittered, much to her obvious delight, almost to the point of a secret conversation, taking place between them. He guessed her age to be about eighteen, just at that mystical point between girl and woman, when a female is most beautiful. She meandered across the meadow aiming for no particular path. She would stop and listen then continue her forward progress toward Verdueen, which was visible, nestled in the valley below. Suddenly she stopped and waved to a figure heading up the path towards her. It was an older man. Perhaps itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s her father or uncle he thought, the man seeming too old to be her husband. When the man approached, near enough to touch her, she reached out and took both his hands in hers and greeted him with a warm embrace. The man then took one of her hands and they started walking back toward the village. As they walked along, the

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man reached down to pluck a wild flower and inadvertently let go of her hand. She seemed unprepared for the movement and appeared to be disoriented, while groping for the feel of the reassuring hand. The man again took her hand and held the flower up to her nose. She laughed and indicated that it tickled. There was something about that instant, when she was out of hand contact, that unsettled Claudius’ mind. It seemed so unnatural, and yet it didn’t, and suddenly the realization struck him, she was blind. He had seen people like her before and her mannerisms matched theirs, perfectly. If he had been fascinated with her before, the fascination only deepened with this new revelation. Her blindness had seemed no handicap, to her, at all. Claudius hung back and followed, so as not to be observed. As the man and the woman neared the village, Claudius decided to proceed to his home by another route, and as he turned to this new path, he turned back to look at the pair, much to his surprise, she also turned around and looked directly at him. Can she see me, he wondered, and on an impulse, he waved to her. She did not respond but turned back to her companion and continued walking and carried on with the conversation they had been having. I must discover more about this girl, who has no idea how beautiful she is, he thought. The next day, Claudius arrived at the shipyard at the usual time. It seemed good to be back at work and he felt refreshed and rejuvenated from his little excursion into the highlands. All his coworkers had warm greetings for him, and he for them. When he ran into Vorel, later in the day, he tried to be as casual as he could, and after they exchanged greetings, Claudius asked, “Vorel, maybe you know of this. I was returning from my vacation the other day and I was approaching the village from the meadows to the north, when I encountered a young girl, walking with an older man. The girl appeared to be sightless. Do you know who they were?” “Ah, yes, I do know who they are. That would be Barthos and his daughter Darcia. He is the chief elder of our people. He is not a Druid but he is our leader. They are together all of the time and I know, this time of year, she loves to walk among the wild flowers and talk to the animals. She has been blind all of her life Claud, although it has never seemed like a handicap to her. She is very beautiful, isn’t she?” “Yes Vorel, she is very beautiful. Tell me more about her?” “She is greatly loved Claud. Everyone who comes in contact with her is captivated by her. The wild birds and the small animals approach her with no fear. Her ability seems to stem from within her, from her niceness, for lack of a better description. She does not seem to try to be as she is, she just seems favored by ‘The Shinning One’ and the people adore her. On a day such as yesterday was, her father takes her to the high meadows and leaves her there to spend time with her wild friends. He goes about his daily business and then returns for her in the afternoon. They have been doing that since she was a small child. Once, as the story goes, she encountered a very large black bear, but the bear never threatened her, in fact she was able to talk to the animal and charm it to the point that he allowed her to touch him.” “A bear you say, eh, that is an amazing story Vorel. Is there more?” “They are a very loving family Claud. The mother’s name is Vardna and they live on a small farm on the east side of the village. The three of them are often seen walking in the village, chatting with the innkeepers and the local merchants, the mother loves to browse the shops after a caravan has sold its goods to the shopkeepers and she always takes the girl with her. Darcia obviously cannot see the goods but she loves to touch the

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fabrics and things that have an interesting texture. There is one other interesting thing Claud. Darcia often attends the council meetings and listens to the usual debates. She isn’t allowed to speak at the sessions, but rumor has is that she counsels her father, when they are at home. He has great respect for her perception of situations that arise in those meetings. Her father Barthos is highly respected, by the people and he has been our leader for eleven years now. The Druids state the final rulings, to the people and the rulings become law, but Barthos, and the ’Council’ have a strong hand in every decision. I guess you could say he is the advocate of the people, to the Druids.” “How many are in the council that Barthos heads Vorel?” “There are twelve, including Barthos Claud.” “Why twelve?” “I don’t know exactly. The number comes from ancient times. It has always been as such and no one really knows why. Many of our beliefs are like this. No one questions the beliefs, they just are.” “I would like to know more of this ‘Council of Twelve’ Vorel but I must see the carpenter about the rudder for ‘Sea Hawk’. Perhaps we could talk of this at another time.” “I also have some material ordering to do, but yes, we could speak of this more at another time, perhaps at supper tonight. Come early and we can have a cup of mead and talk. Oh, one more thing, why don’t you take a walk in the high meadow around midday tomorrow. I think it would be an ideal time for it, don’t you?” Vorel asked, giving Claudius a wink. Claudius blushed slightly, and then laughed at himself. Am I that obvious, he thought? Well, if Vorel expects me to visit the high meadow tomorrow, that is exactly what I will do. He was not disappointed the next day. Darcia was there, as before, with the wild birds, enjoying her company immensely. When he was a distance away, he saw her pause to listen but only briefly, she then continued her previous activities. He watched, drinking in the wonder of her. The next two days were rainy and cloudy, the weather was raw, with a stiff wind blowing in off the sea. He didn’t think he would see her at the meadow, due to the weather, so he busied himself with “Sea Hawk” and the variety of tasks that labor involved. He thought about Darcia constantly. Whenever he recalled her conversations with the chirping birds, he marveled, they are not shy with her, why am I? The strong wind died down overnight and the dawn brought warmth and bright sunshine. Vorel had to meet on a council matter, regarding a land dispute, and he had left Claudius in charge, in his absence. The work was progressing well. “Sea Hawk” would be ready for launch in late summer. He and Vorel were as excited as children over the prospect. The new ship was sixty feet long, as long as any flat bottom ship that had ever been built at the shipyard. “If she is seaworthy Claud, it will be a crowning achievement for us. I hope there are no surprises in store,” Vorel had said, a day previously. Looking at the angle of the sun, Claudius noticed the afternoon was almost gone. The work scheduled for that day had already been accomplished. Claudius left Lantumus in charge for the remainder of the workday and decided to hike to the high meadow to see if Darcia was there. When he arrived, she was there, except instead of her usual spot, she was sitting on the gray weathered trunk of an old fallen tree, her arms stretched out behind her, eyes closed, her face tilted up enjoying the warmth of the late spring sun.

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The wild birds were there, as always, twittering and hopping on the tree trunk and across her lap. The yellow and purple flowers were mostly gone now, replaced with delicate green leaves that fluttered lightly on long slender shoots, ruffled by the light breeze. As Claudius approached nearer, he inadvertently stepped on a twig, which parted with a loud snap. The birds scattered in all directions seeking the refuge of the nearby trees and Darcia sat straight up and looked directly at him. She didn’t speak right away and didn’t seem alarmed and after what seemed an interminable silence she spoke. “Well, unless you can’t, I really wonder why you won’t speak to me. This is the third time you’ve been here so I’ve made up my mind, either I speak to you or we go on this way, with you looking while all I can do is hear you and smell you, which, by the way, is not a bad thing. It was the scent of pine the first time you were here.” “I’m sorry my lady, you are quite right. I have been rude and I beg your forgiveness. I should have spoken to you when I first encountered you, pine smell and all.” “Well then, here we are. Come nearer to me, would you, so I don’t have to shout, please.” Claudius approached and caught his breath. She was even more beautiful up close. She was smiling and her teeth were white and even. She was wearing a shortsleeved sky blue dress, ankle length, gathered at the waist with a knotted yellow cord. She had a scatter of small freckles across the bridge of her nose, which added an aura of innocence to her beauty. “Are you going to tell me why it took you so long for you to speak to me,” she asked? “My name is Claudus and as a matter of fact, and to be perfectly honest, your beauty paralyzed my tongue, which sounds like undue flattery but it happens to be true. I am also very shy around women. I had no sisters when growing up and very limited contact with women as I grew older.” “My goodness, for someone who professes to be shy, all those words are almost a speech, but they were very nice words, I might add. What about your village, what was it called, Carnute, weren’t there any women there?” “Yes, there were women, but none nearly as beautiful as you.” “You do say nice things Claudus. Here, come here and sit by me,” she said, patting a spot, on the tree trunk to her left. “I apologize for frightening you little friends away, I didn’t mean to.” “Oh, that’s nothing, they also disappear when my father comes. It’s only when I am alone that they come. I do enjoy their company. I don’t know why they have no fear of me.” “You seem to know about me, how is it that you know?” “I asked Vorel, which I believe is what you did also. Isn’t that correct?” “Yes”, he said, laughing, “I asked him who you were. After I saw you for the first time I was curious. He told me a little about you and your family I think I see now why he urged me to come to this meadow, to see if you were here. Tell me Darcia, does Vorel speak well of me.” “Vorel speaks highly of you Claudus. He and my father meet often, away from the ‘Council of Elders’. They are good friends and often they sit under an old maple tree, in our back yard, have a cup of mead and just talk, for hours. Vorel told us how you came to our village and what you have done in making ‘Sea Eagle’ a reality. He says that

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without your knowledge, success may have been a long way off. Are you aware that Vorel has recommended you for a seat on the ‘Council of Elders,’ when there is a vacancy?” Claudius was stunned; he didn’t know what to say. “I see you are speechless again?” Let’s see, beauty and honor bestowed, render you speechless. Is there anything else that numbs your tongue, Claudus? Oh, by the way, do you mind if I call you Claud, Claudus is so formal?” “No, no, it’s alright, I mean yes, you can call me Claud,” he said, as his stammering caused her to giggle. Her laughter reminded him of tinkling bells. A joyful, happy sound. “I didn’t know about the consideration of me for the ‘Council of Elders’. Vorel never mentioned it to me. It comes as a complete surprise. I would never have imagined that a stranger and someone my age could even be considered for the ‘Council’.” “The name is misleading,” she said. “There are two current members, on the ‘Council’, that are about your age. Vorel and a man called Palamus. The most important consideration is the good deeds one does and the value he brings to the community. The ‘Council’ values achievements more highly than a person’s age. The ‘Council’ was at one time, all elderly men. Over time they learned that often the voice of wisdom is a young voice, and wisdom, wherever it comes from, is of great value.” “You sound very knowledgeable about the ‘Council’ Darcia, are you?” “I suppose I am. I often go to the meetings to listen. I am not allowed to speak but my father and I discuss the rulings, later on, at home. Sometimes I remind him of a point he hadn’t thought of.” “Ah, beautiful and wise, that is a combination to challenge any man.” She blushed slightly, and said, “Claud, could you come closer to me? I want to see what you look like.” He moved closer to her, took her hand and guided it to touch his face. She traced his forehead, his eyes and brows, his nose; jaw line and mouth, pausing, at each point, to allow the image to embed itself in her mind. “You are a very handsome man Claudus,” she said. Now it was his turn to blush and she could feel the blood rise in his cheeks as she touched them with her fingertips. She laughed, that tinkling sound again. “I think we have uncovered number three, speechless when someone pays you a compliment.” When she tried to return her hand back to her lap, Claudius continued to hold it lightly. She made no move to pull away and they sat that way, for a silent space of time, not talking, just holding hands. After a time she said, “My father will be here soon and before he comes, there is something I would like you to do for me.” “Of course Darcia. What is it you want me to do?” “I want you to kiss me,” she said. He didn’t say anything right away and before he could speak she said, “Oh sorry, I guess I made you speechless again,” and laughed. “No, no, I am far from speechless, and I am enjoying the happiness I feel at this moment. My wish has been granted. I have been thinking how nice it would be to kiss

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you from the moment I saw you. With that he took both of her hands in his and kissed her lips, very sweetly, very tenderly. “I have never been kissed by a handsome young man before and it was exactly how I imagined it would be. A very pleasant sensation, from my tingling lips to my tingling toes. Was it pleasant for you also?” she asked, a little breathlessly. “Oh yes. I___I think we have found a forth thing to paralyze my tongue.” At that moment Darcia’s father Barthos came trudging up the path. After introducing himself to Barthos, and exchanging pleasantries, Claudius fell in beside them as they headed back toward Verdueen. The conversation was pleasant and came easier than Claudius had expected. He liked the man immediately and after observing Barthos interact with his daughter, it was very apparent that the man loved his daughter, deeply and was very protective of her. No mention was made of Claudius being considered for a’ Council’ seat so Claudius didn’t broach the subject. I will speak to Vorel privately when the opportunity presents itself, to find out more about this, he thought. They arrived at the home of Darcia and Barthos. Her mother Vardna was working in the garden. When she spotted them she dropped her hoe and quickly came to hug her husband and daughter. Wiping her hands on her apron, she took Claudius’ hands in hers and said, “This handsome young man must be Claudus, the one Vorel spoke of. My name is Vardna and we welcome you to our home.” “I am very pleased to meet you Vardna,” Claudius replied. “I have a kettle of stew simmering on the hearth, and I recently pulled a loaf of bread from the oven, would you stay and have supper with us,” she asked? “I would be pleased and honored to share a meal with all of you. Tell me how I can help in the preparation,” Claudius said, looking at Darcia to see her reaction to the invitation. “It is a simple matter to set another place and put the food on the table. If you wish, there is a trough over by the well, you men can wash and come to the table when you’re through.” Claudius noticed that Darcia had a pleasant little smile on her face and he decided, a beautiful girl, nice friendly people and good food was not a bad way to spend an afternoon and perhaps an evening as well. The table conversation was lively and interesting. The subject matter was wide ranging and Claudius soon discovered that Barthos and Vardna were exceptional people, well versed in what was going on in their community. These are not barbarians, he thought, although, the Romans called them that. These people were intelligent, practical hard-working people, who choose fine leaders, and then, let them lead. He parted company with Darcia and her family, well after sunset. He made his goodbyes and thanked them profusely for a most excellent evening of food, drink and conversation and by the end of it, he was now known as Claud, to all. Darcia walked him to the door, a path she knew well. “You will come to the meadow tomorrow, won’t you Claud,” she asked? “I will be there Darcia, rest assured.” He leaned down to give her a light kiss on the lips. She was beaming, as she waved to him, from the doorway, bouncing on her tiptoes, just as any young girl would do after she had met the man of her dreams.

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Claudius ambled off into the darkness, toward his home, an unfamiliar lightness in his step, feeling exactly as thrilled as she. That night, as he lay in his bed reflecting on the day, he had a warm feeling, a sensation he hadn’t felt for a very long time. In the zone, between sleep and consciousness, he remembered that warmth. It was the same as when he was a boy, coming home to the arms of his mother, after a long day at school, then a chill spread through him as he thought how hard it will be to betray these people and what they would think of him when they discovered he was a Roman soldier and had been sent by Caesar to spy on them and had been lying to them, all along. The next day, before first light, Claudius popped out of bed. He poked his head out the door and observed a cloudless sky and felt the early summer warmth already in the air. It was a glorious day. I will see her this afternoon, he thought and his heart leapt in his breast. He didn’t know that in a very short time, his life would again change in an unforeseen direction. He had been working with the carpenters, attempting to fit ‘Sea Hawk’s’ rudder to the sternpost when he heard a commotion up near the entrance to the boat shed. There was a woman crying and screaming. He ran to see what was going on. He recognized the woman at once; she lived in a farmhouse, on the opposite side of the road, only a short distance from the shipyard. She was hysterical. Vorel and some of the yard workers were trying to calm her. He grasped her by the shoulders and delivered a stinging slap, across her face. “What is it woman, what is wrong,” Vorel said? “The wolves, the wolves, took my baby,” she sobbed. “They ran into the hills. Please, please don’t let them take my baby,” she wailed, covering her face with her hands. ”Quickly now, and think, how many wolves were there and which way did they go,” Claudius said to her? “Three I th-think, Yes, Three. They went toward the hills, that way,” she said, pointing east toward the foothills of the surrounding mountains. Claudius didn’t hesitate. He looked frantically around for a weapon, any kind of weapon. He spotted a seaman’s spike lying on a nearby workbench, a foot long, round piece of steel tapered to a dull point, used for splicing rope. He retrieved it and went running out the door. “Gather some men and weapons and come after me as soon as you can,” he shouted, back over his shoulder. He could hear one of the men shouting back, “You can’t catch the wolves, give it up, the child is lost.” “I have to try, I must try,” Claudius shouted back, more to himself than to the others. He accelerated to top speed, and ran toward the hills. He tried to imagine what would the creatures do, go to high ground, a den in the rocks, where the hungry cubs were waiting. “When in combat, think like your enemy thinks,” his father had always said. The wolves were his enemies now, and this was combat. A vision of his father fighting a full-grown wolf, as a small boy, danced through his head, then it vanished, as he ran on. He had no thought of being tired, his legs and lungs, were accustomed to the demands. Breathe in through the nose, breathe out through the mouth, the distance runner’s boon; keep on going, as fast as you can. Animals will use existing game trails,

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not blaze new ones. Keep to the trails you can see. These thoughts raced through his mind. He was steadily climbing toward the distant mountain tops, then he saw it, a scrap of cloth, clinging to a thorn bush, recently torn from clothing. He stopped briefly to examine it, then went on, buoyed by the discovery, every sense in his body telling him he was on the right path. Higher and higher he went, the shipyard now only a tiny set of structures, visible far below, near the edge of the sea. Would the wolves have already killed the child, or was it still alive? He had to know, he ran, ever higher, as fast as he could. Suddenly, there they were trotting ahead of him, three wolves, one with a small child dangling in its mouth, the child captured by the folds in its clothing. The child was crying, screeching really, feebly, helplessly waving its arms, covered with cuts and bruises, but alive. The burden of the child had slowed the wolves’ progress enough for me to catch up to them, he thought. He prepared to face the beasts. He rushed at the wolves, yelling, brandishing his weapon, challenging them. The lead wolf immediately dropped the child from its jaws, it just stood there, snarling, its fangs bared, prepared to deal with this threat, to the completion of its mission. All three wolves were now crouching, their hackles raised; snarling with bared fangs, ready to defend their prize to the death. The wolves did not attack immediately, they fanned out and circled Claudius threateningly, sizing up this interloper and how best to kill him. Claudius could see the child lying on its back, crying, terrified and gasping to draw breath. Claudius made an aggressive move to snatch the child, and run, but the wolves needed no further provocation and attacked, all three at once. The lead wolf leapt straight at Claudius’ throat, while the other two attacked his legs. Deal with the greatest threat first, was all Claudius could think of, and he did. He deflected the fangs, of the beast, with his free hand and felt them sink into his left shoulder with a viselike grip. He plunged the spike into the wolf’s left side, with all his strength, feeling the piece of steel penetrate the wolf’s body, and bury itself, up to his clenched fist. The wolf let out a blood-curdling howl of pain and he knew the animal no longer lived. Claudius threw the carcass of the dead wolf aside then he stumbled and fell to the ground. With the leader dead, the other two wolves backed off and began circling for another assault. Claudius again went for the child and they again defended their prey by attacking. The first wolf in was the next to die. Claudius plunged the spike directly into its eye and it, fell aside, dead. Claudius, feeling his strength ebbing, faced the third wolf. It stayed at bay, circling, snarling, teeth bared, deciding whether or not to attack. The animal, sensing something, pricked up its ears, looked about, sniffed the air several times then loped off, toward the top of the mountain. Claudius could barely move. His left shoulder was throbbing and bleeding, profusely. Both legs were bleeding, from numerous bite marks he didn’t remember receiving, but there they were. He crawled over to the child, who was lying on its back, breathing heavily but not crying. The child looked up as Claudius crawled to him. It was

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a boy child, six to seven months old, blond hair, blue eyes. The child smiled and reached its tiny arms out to Claudius. He took the child into his arms and wept. The rescue group, when it arrived, met Claudius limping down the mountain path. He was covered in blood, the gore covered seaman’s spike, still in his right hand, his arms wrapped tightly around the child. There was the broadest of smiles on his face. The group of men crowed around him, praising him for his bravery. Claudius handed the child over to one of them and suddenly he felt very weak and exhausted, they pried the seaman’s spike out of his hand and then he collapsed into the arms of his nearest rescuer. When Claudius awoke, Darcia was looking down at him, her beautiful face exuding concern and compassion. She was bathing his forehead with a damp cloth. It felt cool and pleasant. She kissed him gently on the top of his head and asked, “How are you feeling Claudus?” “The child,” he said, “How is the child? Is he alive?” “The Child is well. Other than a few cuts and some minor bite marks, he is home with his mother, playing, as though nothing had happened. Solsana has seen to him and she has also seen to you. She said you will be all right, but you must rest, completely, for several days, at the least. She also said that you owe her some more fish.” Claudius gave Darcia a wan smile and noticed she had applied fresh bandages to his shoulder and legs. He also smelled the rank odor of Solsana’s special salve. “I shall make sure to give her the very best of fishes, when I am able.” “You are a hero you know. Outside your door are piles of food and gifts. There has been a steady outpouring from the entire village. The mother of the boy you saved, Pestra, has been here every day, to see how you are, wanting to nurse you and take care of you. The father of the boy wanted to assume your labors at the shipyard, but Vorel assured him that they could get along without you until you recover.” “You mentioned days. How long have I been unconscious?” “This is the third day since the incident. The shipyard workers brought you here after you rescued the child. I came at once when I heard what had happened. Solsana said there would be abscesses and you would have fever but that the fever would pass. Now the fever has passed. I have not left your side since they brought you here.” “Where did you sleep,” he asked? “Over there, by the hearth. I made a bed of some sheepskin and I was very warm and comfortable.” “Your mother and father, they do not object to your being here?” “Object, why would they object? It was they who suggested it, and even if they didn’t, I would have insisted on coming anyway.” Claudius was immediately on alert, “Did I cry out or say anything strange while I was unconscious?” Darcia thought about it for a moment, and then said, “You did mumble something about your father and the wolf but it didn’t make any sense. Other than that, you have slept for the most of two days. In fact, that is what you must do, right now, after you have had some broth and a long drink of water. Solsana said to give you much water.” When he again awoke, he actually felt somewhat better. He lay watching Darcia feeling her way around his one room house. She would encounter a table, a shelf or some

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other obstacle, pause, to commit it to memory and then move on to another chore. She is committing my house to memory, he thought. He loved watching her young slender body move, gracefully, sensing when an object was in her path and able to avoid bumping into it. How does she do it, he thought? He looked over to see the kettle on the hearth steaming. Whatever was in the kettle smelled delicious and it made his mouth water and his stomach growl with hunger. “Ah, you are awake,” she said, looking over at him, “Do you feel, any better my brave hero?” “I do feel better Darcia and I am famished and please, I am not a hero. I only tried to help and I was fortunate, very fortunate. If I had failed I would not be a hero, would I? Now, what do you have cooking over there that smells so wonderful?” She looked quite pleased with herself and said, “Oh Claud, it is so good to hear you say that. The fact that you are hungry means you are getting better. It took me a long time but I made a stew. My father brought some fresh lamb and I chopped it up and made a stew. I had to be very careful with the knife, cutting, the meat and vegetables but then I just threw everything in the pot, with some water and herbs, and let it cook. My mother has been teaching me and letting me cook since I was a little girl. My mother also brought fresh bread, would you like some, with a bowl of stew?” “Yes, will you have some with me?” He again watched her as she fussed like a mother hen and prepared two servings of stew, topped each bowl with a chunk of bread and brought them over to sit with him. “It is amazing to watch you work Darcia. You seem to know where everything is and you can go to it at will.” “I have had three days to get familiar with your home and I have most of it memorized. My father and mother helped me. You should have seen me on the first day. I was bumping into everything. I probably have bruises on my legs and hips. Now, however, I can find my way around very well, thank you.” She was close to him now and he looked into her beautiful green eyes that saw nothing and yet, saw everything. A feeling of overpowering emotion swept over him. Tears formed in his eyes and, at that instant, he realized how much he loved her and that, he always would. Now that I love her how could I ever leave her, he thought. He decided then, he never would. Caesar can wage his war without me. When I don’t return, he will think me dead and soon forget me. My place is here with the woman I love and her people, my people. Sometimes however, one’s destiny gets in the way of one’s desires. “Claud, I hope you are up to it, but if you are not, it could be done another time,” she said. “I feel much better after eating something, Darcia,” wiping his bowl clean with the last morsel of bread, “What is it?” “My mother and father want to visit this evening, especially my father. He wants to invite you to join the ‘Council of Twelve’,” she said. Claudius didn’t know what to say. Finally he stammered a bit and asked, “Has a vacancy come-up, has one of the members died or some such thing?” “No, no, it’s nothing like that. What the ‘Council’ wants to do is make you the thirteenth member. Your title would be an honorary one, for now. You would be invited

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to sit at all meetings and your voice would be heard and considered but you would have no voting power. When a seat does open, you would be the one to fill it, and then, all the ‘Council’ rights would be yours. The ancient number of twelve is sacred and can never be altered, but there is no rule governing a ‘Council-in-Waiting’, which is what you would be. It is a great honor Claud and it has never happened before. You saved a life and have done other great things for our people; this is their way of thanking you. Will you do it Claud, will you join the ‘Council’,” she asked, eagerly? “What do you think Darcia, should I join the ‘Council’?” “I am a woman, and I’m blind, in case you hadn’t noticed. It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said, slightly miffed at the question. Suddenly it occurred to him. He had touched on an issue that was sensitive to her. “What you think matters a great deal to me,” he said. She let out a squeak and then rushed into his arms, so suddenly, she would have knocked him over if he hadn’t already been sitting on the edge of the bed. As it was, she fell on top of him and his empty bowl and spoon went clattering to the floor. “Claudus, you wonderful man, you do love me, I knew it, I felt it, since the moment we first met. You have made me so happy.” He held her in his arms, able to feel the love emanating from her body, a palpable force that warmed his body and his heart. “It’s true, I loved you from the first moment I saw you Darcia and now the obvious question remains, do you love me also?” “Oh yes Claud, yes,” she said, and kissed him full on the lips and continued covering his face with kisses, while she hugged him. His battered body ached, from the pain of her hugging, but it was the sweetest pain he had ever endured. They stayed that way, on the bed, nestled in each other’s arms, for some time, and then Claudius heard someone clear his throat. It was Barthos and Vardna; they were standing in the doorway. They must have heard Claudius and Darcia declaring their love for each other because Vardna was beaming and seemed abundantly happy. Barthos also seemed happy. The parents looked at each other and smiled, then Barthos said, “Well it looks like a wedding will soon be taking place.” Vardna rushed to her daughter hugging and kissing her as any mother would, knowing her daughter to be happy, and in love with a good man, who would care for her. Inwardly, Claudius was of mixed emotions, his sense of duty and honor pulling him in one direction, his love for Darcia, and her people, pulling him in another. He made a conscious effort not to let the inner torment show on his face. Barthos interrupted his thoughts and said, “Claudus, if you feel well enough, there is another matter I would like to discuss with you. Perhaps my daughter has mentioned it. The ‘Council of Twelve’ and the Druids are of a mind to offer you an honorary seat on the ‘Council’. Is it something you would consider?” “Darcia has recently mentioned this offer Barthos and I am more than flattered, I am overwhelmed. I have never felt more accepted than I have here in Verdueen. Everyone I have come in contact with has been kind to me, beyond measure. As you now know, Darcia and I love each other very much. We will make our home here, raise our children and live out our lives here, and it will be good. In answer to your question, Yes, I would be proud to accept your offer to sit on the ‘Council of Twelve’.” Now it was Vardna’s turn to hug and kiss Claudius, telling him that she had never been happier. Her daughter had found love with a good man.

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Claudius mended quickly. Over the next two days he was up, moving about the one room house, helping Darcia help him. Within eight days the two of them were taking long walks on the beach, hand in hand, spending a great deal of time together, reveling in each others company, as young lovers are wont to do. He would gather various items with different textures and give them to her to touch. Downy feathers, a smooth rounded stone, a rough piece of tree bark, fragrant flower petals and velvety moss. She would run her fingers over the item and then describe the texture to Claudius. He loved these intimate moments and he learned of the beauty and meaning in the simplest of things, through her eyes. The pair became a familiar sight, in and around Verdueen and the people spoke openly of their love and highly approved of the match. Soon Claudius was back to running and swimming and once he did this, he again felt strong, able to return to work at the shipyard. He wanted to reassume the task of building “Sea Hawk” and complete the work before the cold of winter set in. His return to the yard was a celebratory event. He was congratulated by all his coworkers, who of course, wanted to hear all about his encounter with the wolves and ask many, many questions. Vorel knew Claudius’ return would be akin to a holiday and prepared for it by supplying food and drink, to mark the occasion. Darcia returned to live with her family. Claudius visited her there most every evening and often ate his evening meal with them. Sometimes the couple would take long walks together, but often, they would sit around the table after supper and engage in long stimulating conversations with Vardna and Barthos and their talks often lasted far into the night. Barthos assured Claudius that there was no hurry for him to join the ‘Council’ and took the opportunity to coach him on just how the ‘Council’ functioned and what might be expected of him after he was inducted. Darcia also participated in these lengthy discussions and Claudius came to realize how intelligent she was and the depth of her knowledge about the ‘Council’. Once Claudius remarked about how, Darcia should be the one sitting on the council, not him. She instantly recognized the compliment he paid her and squeezed his hand under the table in acknowledgement. Barthos agreed, it was so, but he also stated, sadly, that, “The ‘Council’ would never even consider admitting a woman to its ranks. However, she still has some strong influence on the ‘Council’, even though she can’t vote,” Barthos said, giving Claudius a wink, with Darcia vigorously nodding her head in agreement. “I think I know what you mean,” Claudius said, knowing just now how strong Darcia’s influence on her father was. The day for Claudius’ induction into the ‘Council of Twelve’ arrived. It was a semi-private affair, not open to the general public, only to certain dignitaries, members of the ‘Council’ itself and the Druids. The ‘Council’ functioned behind the scenes and rarely appeared in public. The Druids were the declarers of the law, announcing the rulings to the people. Claudius’ induction ceremony was very brief and took place in the same room where the “Council” held its meetings. Claudius looked around the room and thought, this is where the fate of an entire tribe of people is decided, and I will have a hand in it. Barthos called the assembly to order and after naming Claudus, as the recipient of this unprecedented honor, of being chosen the thirteenth member, named off Claudius’

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good deeds. The two ships, which he made possible and helped to build, his pleasant demeanor and friendly attitude, his love for Darcia, daughter of Barthos, and finally and certainly most emphatically, his saving the life of a small child. All present stamped their feet in approval and Vorel, Claudius’ mentor, presented him with his official staff of office, a baton, made of twisted grape vines, about two feet long. All present stamped their feet again, with a great deal of enthusiasm. Just like the staff of office for a Roman centurion, Claudius thought, as he accepted the baton. The simple ceremony was then adjourned and many came to personally congratulate Claudianus on being selected. Food and mead were then served to mark the event. When the assemblage eventually dispersed, Vorel put his arm across Claudius’ shoulders and said,” Well Claud, now you are truly one of us. How does it feel, my friend?” Claudius, grinning from ear to ear replied, “It gives me a warm feeling to finally belong somewhere Vorel, not to mention also being loved by a beautiful woman,” putting his arm around Darcia, who was standing next to him. “You are a fortunate man Claudus, but never forget, all you have, you have earned, with the possible exception of Darcia, I think she had her eye on you the moment you laid eyes on her, such as it was,” Vorel said with chuckle. Claudius and Darcia immediately caught the humor in the situation and the three laughed again, together. The “Council of Twelve” met once every fifteen days, unless Barthos called an emergency session. Other than working at the shipyard, Claudius spent the remainder of his time with Darcia. Once while walking, she made a point to ask him. “I have never spoken of this before Claud, but I have been thinking about it. Does my blindness bother you? Do you ever think about how difficult our life together will be, especially for you?” “Why no Darcia, I have never had such thoughts. You cope with your affliction with grace and dignity. I have never once heard you complain, besides now you do have eyes, you have mine.” “Oh Claud, I was hoping you would say something like that. My mother was right you are a good man. Now, I have one more question, it’s about our children. Do you have fear that they could be born blind, because I was born that way?” “I have thought about that Darcia. I don’t have any fear of it. After all, if our children are born blind they will be able to cope, just as you have, and also because they will have the best teacher there is to show them how to cope. Now, let’s head up to our meadow, this warm weather won’t last too much longer, we should enjoy it as much as we can.” They made their way to their fallen tree and sat there, holding hands, soaking up the last vestiges of warmth from the late afternoon sun. “Tell me Darcia, you can see deep into people’s hearts. You see things that others don’t see. Speak to me of the things others don’t see,” Claudius said. “I can often see the truth. I think that this is one very important thing others don’t see. I know my vision is a gift. The sights of the world don’t cloud my vision; my mind is not cluttered with images I can only see by what I hear, smell, taste and touch. This leaves much room in my mind for deep thought.” “Tell me some of the things in your mind Darcia, things that I cannot see because I have sight.”

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She thought for a long moment before she replied. “The earth is our mother, we suckle at her breasts. One breast is the land that gives sanctuary to our crops and feeds the animals that feed us and carry our burdens. The other breast is the sea, which also nourishes us and sustains us. There is bounty enough for all to share and the mother does not favor one over the other.” “What about a father”, Claudius asked, “Is there a father in this story?” “The father is the sky, the rain, the sun, the moon and the stars, he is the life giver, without him, all things, including the mother, cannot be. The father and the mother maintain a balance, with one another, so that all things are in harmony. Everyone, everything, even the lowliest insect has a purpose, we may never be privileged to know what that purpose is, yet we cannot deny its existence. “This balance you speak of, can anything upset it?” She looked at him, as though she could see into his eyes, and lightly touched his face with her fingertips. It’s as if she can look into the deepest recesses of my heart and see the truth, he thought. “Man can upset the balance Claud! As time passes, men will become more and more powerful. That power will give him control over the mother and father and he will be able to wreak great havoc. Even now, the Romans come and slaughter our young men and take our lands, lay waste to our villages and sell our people into slavery. Men are not ruled by instinct, as the animals are, men are driven by what they desire and through their ability to reason, can determine how to take what they desire.” “When you look deeply into that mind that sees so much, do you see men permanently upsetting the balance that the mother and father have created?” “Only to a point Claud. The mother and father are patient, they will allow a certain amount of delinquency; but as soon as the balance is seriously threatened, then they will act to re-establish the balance, as it was before.” Suddenly she felt the rush of his warm tears, falling from his eyes, and he began to sob uncontrollably, shoulders heaving. “What is it my love? What deep pain have my words caused you?” “I am one of those men you spoke of. I have made war and killed and burned and taken what is not mine, all in the name of glory. I am a Roman soldier, sent here to spy on the Pictone people!” She was visibly stunned. She snatched her hands from his and placed them over her mouth. She was at a loss for words, there were no words. A long agonizing moment passed and then she again touched his face, wiped away the tears and then took him into her arms. “Tell me of this great secret that you have been holding onto for so long,” and he did, everything, from as far back as he could remember. By the time he had finished, darkness had long since fallen and they sat there, still wrapped in each other’s arms. “I would understand if you no longer loved me,” he said. “No Claudius Marcus Vero, I love you even more than I did earlier this day. You have given me your heart through your honesty. Love is not true if it is professed with the same breath as lies. I just need time to understand all that you have said. I had sensed an unanswered question between us. Now, through your courage, that question has been answered and is gone forever. It can never come between us again. Come, we must be getting back, my mother and father will be worried.”

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He thought about her all of the next day. He had difficulty in focusing on his work. Vorel noticed Claudius’ preoccupation, and said, “Claud, what is it? I can tell you are troubled. Is there anything I can do? Maybe you would like to go somewhere and we can have a long talk?” “You are right Vorel, I am troubled, and it is very painful. I can’t talk about it right now but I appreciate your concern. I will be all right. It is best if I just keep on working, that is the best way to keep my mind occupied and off of my worries.” “I understand my friend. Sometimes it is best to just let things work themselves out, without too much thinking. My offer still stands though, if you change your mind,” Vorel said, touching Claudius’ shoulder with a pat of reassurance. He didn’t hear from Darcia all of that day. He wasn’t sure if he should go to her or not. I shall not beseech her, he thought. I shall give her as much time and space as she needs, to sort this out; but I can’t wait much longer. I love her and I miss her and the pain of her absence is too great. He slept fitfully dreaming of Darcia, the legions and Drusus, having the face of a wolf, chasing him, while he chased Darcia, through a meadow filled with yellow and purple flowers. The next day, shortly after the midday meal break, Vorel approached Claudius, very anxious and obviously disturbed. “What is it Vorel, something is wrong, tell me what has caused you to be upset?” “I’m not sure Claud, but I have a bad feeling about this. Barthos has called an emergency session of the ‘Council’, and we must go at once, without delay.” The walk to the “Council” meeting place, with Vorel, was an agonizing one. A thousand different thoughts raced through Claudius’ mind, the most prevalent one being the discovery of who he really was and how the Pictone people were going to punish him for his deceiving them. Would Darcia have raised the alarm about him? Claudius and Vorel were the last to arrive and the instant Barthos spotted them, he called the meeting to order. Claudius recognized the Druids and the other eleven members of the “Council”; but there was another man present that he did not recognize. He was also dressed strangely, not anything like the men in the room or like any other Pictone either. One thing was sure, Claudius recognized a warrior when he saw one. The man was clad entirely in leather, deerskin Claudius guessed, right down to the leggings, and boots. A chain mail shirt covered his tunic. A multicolored sash, covered with strange symbols, was draped over his left shoulder, long in front and rear, gathered at the waist with a leather belt. The belt held two scabbards, one for a long sword and one for a long dagger. He also wore a close fitting metal helmet, covered by a bear’s skull cavity, the snout and teeth of the bear resting on top of the helmet, giving him a ferocious unearthly look. Barthos invited everyone to be seated, which they did and then he began. “Fellow council members, and Druid priests, the person you see before you is named Merkovistus, he is an envoy from the Lemonvici, our neighbors to the southeast. Often, as you know, our neighbors come to us to settle disputes among the tribes. We are neutral therefore we can be objective in our advice, however, this time, our neighbors, to the southeast have sent this man to deliver an ultimatum. He would not tell me what it is so now I must ask him to speak to you, the two groups who makes our laws.”

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The strange warrior went to the center of the room and turned slowly, making eye contact with the more prominent members in the room. Claudius guessed from the piercing black eyes, and obvious self-confidence, that this man was formidable and not easily swayed. “As Barthos has said, my name is Merkovistus and I represent my leader, Calaxius, all the elders of our tribe and the Lemonvici people. The Pictone are a peaceful people, who make war on no one yet you should know that all of Gaul is at war, against the Roman Caesar.” A murmur arose and rippled through the assemblage. Claudius felt a pang of fear and looked around the room to make sure no one was looking directly at him. No one was, all eyes were riveted on Merkovistus. The warrior envoy continued, “In order to defeat this Caesar, some less fortunate than us, have discovered that we must unite if we are to survive. Yes I said survive. Some tribes have already met the Romans on the field of battle and have been defeated. To date, he has conquered the Arverni, the Helviti and lately the Veneti,” now all eyes did turn toward Claudius. He tried to remain as devoid of expression as he could. The warrior envoy continued, “It is not beyond the realm of possibility to believe that the Lemonvici are the next to be conquered. We don’t intend to let that happen. I am authorized to tell you that our tribe and many more tribes, yet to be determined, are uniting under one leader. This leader is named Vercingetorix. He will lead the united tribes to defeat this Caesar and rid Gaul of Romans, once and for all. The united army will number five hundred thousand strong. The Lemonvici, Carducci and Bituriges tribes will field a total of one hundred thousand warriors, all under the command of Calaxius, to join this combined army.” Another murmur arose from the crowd. “This is all the information I am allowed to give you. Now, here is the reality of the situation. In order to march our army, and join it to the main force, we will need a vast amount of food and a large number of animals, to feed the army. We will have to get that food, and those animals, from you. My people have had a poor harvest and lack the resources to fill the army’s needs.” Another murmur ran through the men seated. The ‘White Robed One’, who was in the front rank of listeners, spoke out in his booming voice. “If we supply an army of one hundred thousand, it will take nearly all of the food stores and all of the animals we possess, we will have to rely on the sea for all our food and fishing in winter is often poor. Many of our people will die of starvation!” Everyone in the room voiced a similar complaint, once they realized their very lives were at stake. Barthos raised his hands for silence and then spoke, “Have the Lemonvici no compassion, have they considered what this sacrifice will do to us?” “They know,” Merkovistus replied. “We are not monsters that starve women and children, we, and the other tribes, will supply warriors; you will not, therefore, you must supply food for our warriors so they can fight. That is your sacrifice. Our sacrifice is the risk of death in battle. Whose risk is greater? Be warned, people of the Pictone tribe, if we do not takes steps now, to rid Gaul of the Romans, all of you, who do not perish by the sword, will be sold into slavery, including the Pictone. This is a fate far worse than death. Is that what you want?” “We are not warlike, why would this Caesar even bother us at all?”

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“You fools, don’t you see? Caesar desires to make all of Gaul a Roman province, controlled from Rome, by Roman governors.” Claudius could sense Merkovistus was beginning to lose his patience. “I did not come here to negotiate,” Merkovistus said, “I come here to inform and to give orders, which must be obeyed. The army of the Lemonvici is four days march from here, if you do not have the food and livestock waiting for us when the army arrives, they will take it by force, and I assure you, they won’t be gentle about it, many Pictone will die. Your orders are for each family to gather all of its fresh and preserved food and livestock and bring those possessions to the northern outskirts of the village, no exceptions. The army will take over from there, if you have a wagon you will bring that also with beasts necessary to pull it. Remember, the army will take whatever it needs, so to stay unharmed, it will be wise too give what we require.” With that, and a complete disregard for a flood of objections from the assemblage, Merkovistus turned on the heels of his deerskin boots and strode from the room. Pandemonium broke out, the room was in turmoil, and everyone was talking at once. Barthos tried to restore order but his attempt was futile. In the confusion, Claudius caught sight of Darcia; she had been out of sight listening to the proceedings of the assembly. He followed Barthos as he made his way in Darcia’s direction. He saw Darcia’s face light up when she heard Claudius’ voice and realized Claudius was there, next to her. He spoke directly into her ear, to be heard above the clamor, “I will meet you at your house, later, when the confusion has died down. I need to speak with your father and I want you to be there. Please, it is of vital importance, I ask you to trust me.” She nodded in agreement and then spoke into her father’s ear and they left, headed in the direction of their home. Word of the crisis spread through the village like wildfire. People were already beginning to load up wagons of belongings, to try to escape into the hills or the mountains, to survive what they knew, or thought they knew, was coming. Claudius was saddened by what he saw, a once happy, prosperous people thrown into chaos by the threat of invasion from their own neighbors, as consequence of the Roman threat. He finally saw the whole thing for what it was. He had always been the perpetrator of war, now he was seeing how it was to be the victim of it, and the realization was a bitter one to digest indeed. He made his way to Darcia’s house, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. When he arrived she met him at the door. He asked her if she had told her father of his secret and she assured him she hadn’t. He took her hand and went inside and they both sat down across the table from Vardna and Barthos. Claudius studied the three of them trying to sense their mood. Darcia had a far away look in her eyes while Barthos and Vardna seemed to be close to panic. Claudius placed his hand over the old man’s folded ones and tried to reassure him. “Barthos,” he said as the old man looked up, “I have a plan to help our people but first there are some things I must know, before I can put my plan into action.” “I can’t imagine how you can lessen this threat but I am anxious to hear your plan Claud, what is it you need to know?” Tell me all you can about this tribe, the Lemonvici. I am especially interested in their military habits and customs.”

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“You have said it. They are a military, warlike people, they live for war. When they are not fighting other tribes, for minor reasons, they are fighting amongst themselves. The men measure their manhood by their prowess in battle. Even their women often go into battle and fight right alongside the men. That’s why they have no food for their warriors. They make war instead of planting crops. Their leaders are chosen from among the most formidable warriors, not always the wisest choice, as you can imagine. Up until now, they have never bothered us. We are the peacekeepers of all of southern Gaul. The Pictones have always been agents of peace between many of these warring factions. I believe in my heart, the tribes only allow us to exist because we are the buffer against continuous conflict. Without us, war would become a way of life.” “When the Lemonvici come to take your food and animals, which way will they come?” “You know of the mountain where you slew the wolves?” “Yes Barthos, I remember the mountain,” Claudius said, inadvertently touching the scar on his left shoulder left by the wolf’s fangs. “If you continue east, that mountain flattens as it slopes to the sea. There is a vast open plain that runs for many miles along the ocean. It is more than adequate to allow passage and to camp an army. That is the way they will come.” “Barthos, you have answered my questions well. What you have told me gives credence to what I am about to say to you. Here is my plan. It is a gamble but I truly believe there is no other way. We must meet the Lemonvici on the field of battle, with a lone combatant, to challenge their very best warrior, in a fight to the death. If our lone combatant wins, the prize will be the removal of the threat of starvation from the Pictone people, no taking of their food, or their livestock, just leave them alone and move on. If our champion loses the battle, the Lemonvici may boast of their victory, over the lone champion, to all who would listen and I assure you, all of the tribes would listen well.” “Who would this champion be Claudus, we have no such person in our village. Granted, some have skill with weapons in hunting, but none possess the kind of skill you are talking about. Also, the reputation of this champion would have to be greatly renowned for the Lemonvici to even consider such a match, they are not fools after all.” Claudius was watching Darcia; he could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Do you agree that such a plan could work, even if there is only a slim chance that the Lemonvici would accept the challenge?” Claudius said. “Yes, it is feasible. I know the Lemonvici to be a very proud people and what you propose would be a worthy prize to win. The victor in such a contest would be highly esteemed and probably be immediately made an important chief of the Lemonvici nation. I ask you again Claudianus, who would this champion be?” “Me,” Claudius said, as Darcia burst into tears. “You have the skill you spoke of Claudus, or is this a suicide plan you have created?” “I have the skills Barthos and I also have the reputation and now that you know that about me, there are many other things that you also must know. Darcia will tell you the entire truth about me at another time. All I ask is that, after you have heard my story, you don’t judge me too harshly. I did what I did out of a sense of duty and honor. After living among the Pictones I have come to realize that I can no longer justify my reasons

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for my original plan, they were misleading and false. You and the Pictone people, especially your daughter, who I love very much, have shown me the true path, the one path I should have been following all along. The irony of it is I had to come here, to the Pictone people, to find it. I humbly ask for your forgiveness and your understanding. Now, time is growing short. I must go and put my plan into action.” As Claudius rose to leave Darcia said, “Father, mother, I am going with Claudius Vero, for that is his real name. Come to his house to fetch me in the morning and I will tell you the whole story, from beginning to end. All I ask now is your faith and trust.” “You have it my daughter,” Barthos replied “We love you and we trust you,” Vardna also replied. She too was now crying. The two parents hugged their daughter. The two men shook hands, warmly, “May ‘The Shinning One’ keep you from harm my son,” Barthos said, as the young lovers strode out of the door, hand in hand, into the darkness. The moon and stars were hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, as they made their way to Claudius’ hut, more by memory than by sight. There were cook fires burning and some lamps lit, in the houses they passed, but other than that, the darkness was almost total. When they reached the house, Claudius began striking flint to light a lamp, Darcia held him back by placing a hand on his arm as she came up against him in the near total darkness. “We are equals now. Your eyes serve you not. I could be beautiful or I could be ugly, but for you, tonight, I will be yours and I will only be beautiful.” “You could not be ugly even if you willed it,” he said, “You are beautiful inside Darcia, it flows from you as if you were the sun, and your rays touch everyone, you could never extinguish it.” She said nothing but she began to slowly and deliberately remove his clothing, and then she removed hers and they stood naked before each other. She touched his bare skin, her fingers moving slowly, over his body caressing, sensuous. She touched him, between the legs, caressing him as he grew within her hand. They lay back on the bed cradled in each other’s arms, on the sheepskin, as their bodies spread warmth to each other. They turned to face and he felt the warmth of her breasts pressed against his chest. Now, fully erect, he slid between her legs and felt her wet warmth envelope him. Their mouths found each other, exploring, hungry, in the darkness and they couldn’t get enough of each other and they were aware, only of each other. She moved him onto his back and placed herself in a perfect position and lowered herself gently onto him. She gasped and he felt her stiffen in pain, then slowly, with the gentlest touch, the pain gave way to pleasure and they began to move in a blissful harmonic rhythm and he knew he was where, no other man had ever been before. He could feel her erect nipples lightly brush his chest, and he kissed them, as she moved and their breath was coming faster now. They reached their peak at the same moment and she gasped and thrust herself mightily against him, saying his name, over and over tightly grasping his hands, he arching his back to meet her, in perfect unison, both in complete submission to one another. They lay quietly, lost in each other, for some time. He felt as though he held all that was good in the world, in his arms, and for that short span of time, he did.

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Chapter XIII The Lemonvici Time was of the essence. He had to meet the Lemonvici on the plain that Barthos had described. If he allowed the Lemonvici to reach Verdueen, he knew, nothing would stop them from taking what they wanted. He knew what marauding armies could do, the blood lust, greed and debauchery that seemed to invade the minds of soldiers when their victims were at their mercy. He had seen soldiers turn into beasts. Fear and purpose drove him as he ran. He cherished the memory of his parting with Darcia. He had kissed her lightly, in the darkness, when he left. It was a simple goodbye. He confirmed his love for her and told her it would always be so, as long as he drew breath. “If risking my life will allow our people to live in peace, then it is worth the risk,” he said, as he held her in his arms. “You said ‘our people’ Claudius. You are one of us, you know. I will always love you and if you do not return then the memory of you will fill my heart forever, and it will be not be enough; but I will cherish our memories and the time we have had together. One day, when the time is right, our people will know the true story of Claudius Marcus Vero, and your name will be revered and your bravery will be spoken of, around our hearths and campfires, until the end of time.” He moved slowly through the hours of darkness then picked up the pace as the sky brightened. The hidden cave and his belongings were just as he had left them. He placed his father’s ring on his finger. I am the adopted son of a Roman senator and never again will I be ashamed or try to hide it. It is my true heritage, he thought. He also thought to honor Rufus and placed the silver encased wolf fang, and its silver chain, around his neck, touching it, affectionately. If I am to die who and what I am will die with me. He then hoisted his pack of weapons and armor on his back and set out, heading back toward Verdueen and the eastern slope of the mountain, and to the plain of his destiny. He traveled swiftly, his loping gait eating up the distance. It was a pace he could maintain for hours on end, regulated to cover long distances, without expending all of his energy. He stopped several times for water and trail food, for he had brought both with him, then he kept on, spurred by the peril his people, would soon face. Mile after mile, Claudius drove himself. The shoulder straps of his burden were two painful reminders of the raw blisters he knew would be there when he removed the pack. His weapons and armor, always of unnoticeable weight, when worn, now seemed to be the heaviest burden he had ever had to carry, my sores will heal but they will be as nothing, compared to the suffering the Lemonvici will cause if I fail to intercept them, he thought. It was then the Goddess Fortuna smiled on him once more. Up ahead, as he was approaching a large grove of trees, so large in fact, he couldn’t see its ends, looking left and right. He thought about skirting it but decided to hold his course and continue straight ahead. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, he thought. Keeping the sun at a proper bearing, and knowing the sea to be somewhere to his right, he instinctively felt he would strike the plain as planned. That was when he smelled it, the distinct aroma of meat being roasted over a fire. He immediately slowed his pace to muffle his steps and made his way into the wind

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directly toward the source of the aroma. Then he froze. He could hear voices carrying on a conversation and the cooking odors were strong. He crept forward taking great care not to cause any noise that would betray his presence. He silently lowered his pack to the ground and concealed it as best he could. He moved forward keeping low in the underbrush steadily advancing toward the voices. Suddenly he could see them. Three men, warriors all, and to his surprise, he recognized one of them. It was Merkovistus, the envoy sent by the Lemonvici to announce the appropriation of the Pictones food and livestock. They must be on their way to rejoin the army, Claudius thought. It means I am on the right track and I also know the army hasn’t made it this far yet. On his belly, he crawled closer to hear what they were saying. He could make out most of the words and Merkovistus was doing most of the talking. “Well boys, what do you think? Will the Pictones give us our due or do you think they will fight?” Merkovistus said. “Naah, they won’t fight. They are fishermen and the growers of crops. There are no warriors among them and even if there were, they would be few, with no one to lead them. If they decide to fight we will roll them up like wheat before the scythe.” The three laughed loudly at this remark. “Eh, we laugh now, but the day after tomorrow we will have to face Calaxius. He will ask us about the Pictone offering any resistance. What will we tell him?” “I will be the one to face Calaxius and I will tell him taking food from the Pictone will be like plucking a dead chicken,” Merkovistus said, causing the three men to laugh again. “By the way Samulus you mule brain, is that stew about ready to eat, I’m hungry as a bear at the end of the winter.” Claudius circled the entire camp, at a safe distance, verifying that there were only these three. In their smugness, they had not bothered to post a sentry. I will have to decide what to do, he thought. The question was, is this a unique opportunity, or a detriment? Claudius made the decision; this was definitely an opportunity to aid in completing his plan. He waited patiently, far into the night, knowing the three men would eventually fall asleep. He felt he could probably overpower the three in combat, but then he would have to kill them and he didn’t want to do that. He also didn’t want to risk a wound. That would definitely abolish his plans. I must be in peak fighting condition to meet the champion of the Lemonvici. Claudius dozed off. When he awoke, with a start; the three men had long since fallen asleep. Armed with sword and dagger, Claudius crept silently into the camp from a direction behind where Merkovistus lay sleeping. The warrior envoy of the Lemonvici would be his initial target. If he could be subdued, Claudius felt that controlling the other two would be a much easier matter. Before Claudius made his move, he tried to remember how Merkovistus had worn his weapons. Was his sword belted on the left or the right? Claudius tried to picture the man standing in the middle of the council meeting room, hands on hips, cock-sure and arrogant. He could visualize it, sword on the left, dagger on the right. Merkovistus would reach across his body and draw his sword with his right hand. This is the hand I must disable.

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He tried to determine the location of the weapons of the other two men. He could see their shields and spears leaning up against some nearby trees, but in the dim light of the campfire, he couldn’t discern the location of their swords. I must assume their weapons are somewhere on or near their bodies. Two of the men were snoring loudly; Merkovistus was sleeping on his back. He crept slowly and silently up to Merkovistus and stood up directly behind him. In one swift motion he stepped on the sleeping man’s right arm, and pinned it to the ground. At exactly the same instant and in exactly the same way, he pinned the man’s left arm to the ground, with his other foot. Merkovistus awoke with a start, kicking and sputtering, with Claudius’ sword point pressing the skin on his throat. He made a slight gurgling sound as Claudius stared the man down, his finger over his lips in an obvious command for silence. As he looked up at Claudius, there was no fear in Merkovistus’ eyes, only curiosity. In a whisper Claudius said, “Make no sound or you will die. Now, rise very slowly and carefully.” Claudius relieved the restraint and backed away, allowing Merkovistus to stand, the point of Claudius’ sword close to his throat. Claudius went around behind and relieved him of the dagger tucked in his belt and tossed it aside. He maneuvered the man’s right arm behind him, held his own dagger to the man’s throat and whispered quietly in his ear, “If you make one small move to attack me, or try to get away, I will slit your throat from ear to ear.’ Claudius could see the man swallow in reflex to the threat. “Now listen to me and do exactly as I say. Nod your head if you understand me,” Claudius said. Merkovistus nodded his head slowly and carefully. “Call you men, by name, one at a time. When each one awakens tell him to stand over there by that big rock. Also tell each one you will die if he tries to run away or makes a move toward any weapon.” “Samulus, Samulus, wake up,” Merkovistus said. One of the men stirred, slowly roused from a deep sleep and looked around. “It’s still dark Merko, why are you waking me.” When he saw Claudius he froze. “Keep still you fool and go to that rock over there and be quick about it,” Merkovistus said, pointing to the rock. “Do not reach for a weapon or I will die.” By now, the other man was also stirring. “Cristaus, Cristaus, wake up you son of an ass,” Merkovistus said. When Cristau saw Claudius he immediately reached for his sword. “Cristau, you fool, can’t you see I’m in danger here,” Merkovistus hissed at the man. “Go over there with Samulus and be still. We are at a severe disadvantage here. Let us discover what this fool wants before we kill him.” “You’re not going to kill anyone. You’re going to do me a service. Tell your men to unbuckle their sword belts, drop their daggers and lie face down on the ground, do it now.” Merkovistus did as he was told and his men also complied. Keeping his prisoner’s right arm bent awkwardly behind his back he walked Merkovistus over to the two prone men and said, “Now, tie their hands behind them, with their sword belts. I will watch your work and their hands better be secured,” Claudius warned. “Now, unfasten your sword belt and pass it back to me, but before you do, imagine how quickly my blade will enter your throat should you even think of trying to

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overpower me,” Claudius said, pressing the flesh of Merkovistus’ throat with the point of his dagger and drawing a tiny drop of blood. He proceeded to tie Merkovistus’ hands behind his back. He checked the bindings on all three men, decided they were secure and then ordered the three men to sit on the large rock. He went around gathering all the discarded weapons and placed them in a pile at a far end of the camp then sat on the trunk of a nearby fallen tree to address his three captives. “You are fortunate, I have spared your lives. I could have killed you all, as you slept. Do the Lemonvici feel so powerful that they don’t post sentries,” Claudius asked? Two of the men looked to Merkovistus to reply to Claudius’ question. “What were we to fear, the likes of the Pictone warriors,” Merkovistus said, chuckling slightly? “I am a Pictone warrior,” Claudius said, causing the smile to quickly fade from the man’s face. “Enough of this chit-chat Merkovistus, this is what’s going to happen. I am going to keep your two friends here, and I am going to let you go free. You are obviously heading to meet up with your leader and his army. There is a message I wish you to give Calaxius.” “How do you know the name of our leader?” Merkovistus asked. “You divulged it during your ultimatum to the Pictone council and I remembered what you said,” Claudius answered. “Listen very carefully to what I am proposing.” Claudius then outlined all the details of his challenge to Merkovistus. When Claudius was finished, Merkovistus answered with a grunt. He stroked his bearded chin and thought for a while before he responded. “Ah yes, I remember you now, from the council meeting. You must be clever to infiltrate the Pictone tribe and be trusted enough to sit on their ‘Council of Twelve’, but I think you may be too clever for your own good and I will tell you why. There is one among us who is the greatest warrior our tribe has ever known. No one, through all of our history, has been as invincible as this man. He has fought many battles and he has never been bested; our neighbors, friends and enemies alike, fear him. He will be a worthy foe for you, I think. I will gladly carry your message to Calaxius, Roman. I think he will be more than happy to allow our great warrior to accept your challenge. After he kills you, we will celebrate. It will be an excellent start to our campaign to rid Gaul of all such as you. When am I allowed to go?” “You may leave now Merkovistus. Tell Calaxius I will meet him on the great plain, next to the sea. I will be there waiting when the army arrives. Do you know the spot I speak of Merkovistus?” “I know it well Roman. It will be a perfect spot for you to die. Untie me and I will be on my way.” Claudius untied Merkovistus’ hands. “What about my men, will you let them go with me?” “I think not, they will be better here with me,” Claudius said. “May I have my weapons back? I do not fancy being defenseless. I could be attacked by a wild animal.” “You may take a dagger only. That should be sufficient protection until you rejoin the army. Oh, and one more thing Merkovistus, don’t even think about doubling back to take me unawares. I will be waiting for you and, this time, I will kill you.

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Besides, if you fail to report directly to Calaxius, regarding this conversation, and he heard of it, he would probably kill you himself.” “Very well then Roman, I will be on my way. Before I go I would like to say this. If I were you I would spend the time I have remaining practicing my weapons skills, you are going to need them,” Merkovistus said, as he sauntered away, loudly laughing. Claudius did spend the next several days practicing. He practiced as he traveled, in no hurry now, knowing his objective was within his reach. He was able to track Merkovistus most of the way, taking care lest the man double back and try to ambush him. On those travel nights, he selected his camps carefully, surrounding them with alarm snares to warn of an approaching enemy. He tried to get as much sleep as he could, although it was difficult for him to sleep soundly. Once he reached the plain he began his practice regimen. Hour after hour honing his skills to razor sharpness. The trees were his imaginary opponents. He blocked, parried and thrust against them, as if they were his silent enemies. “Do the drills to maintain your skills”; his father’s words had played through his mind over and over. He drilled in full armor, at all times. He used a spear and a small round shield he had confiscated from Merkovistus’ men. The weapons were somewhat strange to him at first but he remembered what Torgano had taught him and soon he was proficient with them adding to what skill he already possessed. The weapons became part of him. He slept with them, ate with them, carried them wherever he went, even when he relieved himself, the weapons were with him. “Let the weapons and shield be extensions of your arms,” his father had always said, and it became so. He rose early, before dawn and walked to the edge of the forest, wrapped in his legionnaire’s cloak, the chill of a waning winter still prevalent in the air. He sniffed the wind, sensing something different and then it came on the wind, as a whisper, perceived more than heard. Slowly the noise turned into a muted murmur, escalating into the unmistakable clamor of an army on the march, the very ground vibrating, and then, there they were, perhaps seven or eight miles away, a sprawling rolling mass, of men and beasts spilling between the slopes of two mountains advancing onto the vast grassy plain. He watched fascinated, used to the marching precision of a Roman army, this horde moving almost randomly over the land was a bit unnerving. There seemed to be no marching order at all, just an overall randomness to the forward motion of the teeming mass. This is why we can beat them; they are no match for our disciplined orderly troops, who can execute a command maneuver with the utmost precision, thousands moving as one man. What enemy could defeat that, even with superior numbers, he thought. He knew the pace of the marauding army would allow him ample time to prepare. He ate a light breakfast of berries, bread and dried fish, the last of his rations and took several long drinks of water from his water skin. He did some extensive stretching and ran in place, for a while, just to warm his muscles and break a light sweat. He knelt and prayed, first to the Goddess Fortuna, then to Juno, in honor of his mother and lastly to “The Shinning One” in honor to the woman he loved and then he began to arm himself.

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He slipped his body armor over his red tunic then cinched it tight with the leather thongs. He girded himself with the legionnaires sword belt, ornamented for one of his rank and adjusted the attached strips of metal, encased in leather, to protect the groin area. He refastened his legionnaire’s sandals and then strapped on his greaves. He next inspected his sword and dagger, inserted them back into their respective scabbards, fastened his legionnaires cloak around his neck, placed his helmet firmly on his head, fastened the thongs of the chin strap, gathered up his borrowed spear and shield and strode out of the sheltering trees and onto the wide grassy plain. The army of the Lemonvici was much closer now, maybe only a few miles away. A huge dust cloud rose and hung in the air, above the advancing horde. The noise of their passage echoed over the plain and off the mountains, a steady rumbling caused by the mixture of a million different sounds. He could distinguish individuals now, some on horseback, at the head of the masses, moving inexorably toward him. He waited there patiently, looking every inch the Roman soldier, legs apart, right hand holding his spear, butt end planted on the ground left hand gripping his shield. He thought of his father and of his mother and a certain calmness settled over him He knew he had been spotted. He could see what he thought may be scouts, pointing in his direction then riding to report what they had seen to their leaders. It wasn’t long before he heard a horn sound a long mournful blast and the moving mass of warriors came to a shuffling halt. The wall of warriors parted and four riders emerged from the throng and headed in Claudius direction. There was no doubt about who was at their head. It had to be Calaxius and, not surprisingly, one of the riders was Merkovistus. The horse Calaxius was riding was huge, it had to be, and the man he was carrying was also huge. The muscular brown horse had hooves the size of buckets and the fetlocks trailed long white hair, which matched the horse’s mane. What a magnificent animal Claudius thought. His rider was also magnificent. This is what a true Gallic chief looks like. There was no doubt of his station. His arms were massive, corded with muscle and amulets of gold and silver. Hi hair was as white as his horse’s mane and spiked to stick straight up. Claudius guessed his height to be well over six feet and he sat straight backed in his well-ornamented saddle. He was dressed similarly to the way Merkovistus had been dressed when he addressed the Pictone council except the cloth of his sash was brighter in color and of a finer quality. His tunic and leggings were deerskin and he was bareheaded, his long hair braided and reaching to his waist, his beard and mustache equally as long. He carried no weapons only a truncheon, which he cradled in one arm. A Consular of the barbarians, Claudius thought. When the four men rode up to him and reined in, Claudius gave them the classic Roman salute, “Hail Calaxius,” he said, in the classic Latin tongue. “You know who I am?” the Lemonvici chief said, in his own language. “You are Calaxius, warrior chief of the Lemonvici,” Claudius answered, in the Pictone language. Calaxius turned to Merkovistus and asked him something, which Claudius couldn’t hear. Merkovistus just nodded without speaking. Calaxius continued, “So, it is as you say, I am Calaxius and I know what you want. My envoy, who you took prisoner

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then released, described your challenge to me. By the way, where are my men, did you kill them? It will go badly for you if you did,” Calaxius growled. “Your men are unharmed and I imagine they have probably managed to work themselves free by now. I have no doubt they will re-join your army soon.” “Very well Roman, you have shown good sense in not taking their lives. Now, I know what you want. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you, a soldier in the army of my enemy, who insults my envoys, kills the young men of Gaul, spies on my neighbors and tries to take over my country?” Calaxius said. “I am Claudius Marcus Vero, son of a Roman senator, and a Centurion in Caesar’s Tenth Legion. I command a group known as ‘The Wolf Pack’, an elite fighting force attached to that legion. I have also become a member of the Pictone tribe, having lived with them for nearly a year. I am their champion and offer battle, to anyone you choose, to try and deter you from taking their food and livestock. The battle will be to the death. If I win, you and your army must bypass the Pictone land and find your foodstuffs somewhere else and leave them in peace. If I am defeated, you may claim my armor, weapons and possessions and you can boast that your greatest warrior killed one of Caesar’s important leaders, the infamous leader of the ‘Wolf Pack’. Your fame will spread throughout the land. All of Gaul, and the Roman Army, will fear you and respect you.” Calaxius roared with laughter, his huge horse trembling from the vibration of the man’s effort. “Tell me more Roman. I am not swayed yet but you do have my attention.” “I am also known as the ‘Tree Warrior’. “In a battle against the Arverni, several years ago, I killed a chief of that tribe in single combat. I also killed many of his men, who were trying to kill me. I never knew his name but the people of the Arverni gave me that name because the battle took place at the base of a great tree that stood in the middle of the battlefield. It was because of this event that Caesar chose me to form, train and lead an elite mounted fighting force known as the ‘Wolf Pack’”. This force is well known and greatly feared by the Gauls. “Does anyone know this man?” Calaxius thundered, pausing while the question was relayed back through the ranks of the thousands of men milling about, on the great plain, some of which had climbed trees and scaled rocks to better observe the proceedings. It wasn’t long before word came. “Someone knows him,” was the shout from far back in the ranks, relayed forward. “Have this person come forward, at once,” shouted Calaxius, as he settled back in his saddle to wait. The ranks began to part allowing a lone warrior to come forward. He was dressed differently than the Lemonvici warriors and Claudius recognized the garb as being similar to that worn by the warriors at the battle of the ‘Great Tree’, so long ago. “Tell me your name soldier,” Calaxius said. “My name is Arieltus, I was born and raised in the village of Huodum, in the land of the Arverni, where the two great rivers Caris and Vigemna meet. I am a warrior and I came to join the Lemonvici to be a warrior and be respected for my skill in battle just as all Lemonvici are. After the Romans defeated us, my people were diminished. Many of our young men were killed and the Romans sold the survivors into slavery. The ones left were old and had no will to fight and made a peace treaty with the Romans. I am not at

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peace with the Romans, I will never be at peace with the Romans. I, am here to kill Romans.” “Do you know this Roman who stands here before us Arieltus?” “Yes I have seen him before. I saw him kill Spedonus, a great war-chief of the Arverni. This man killed him, in single combat, at the site of the great tree.” “Was he brave, did he fight well and fairly?” Calaxius said. “Yes he was brave and he fought very well. He not only killed our leader and best warrior, he also killed many, many others. We could not defeat him; no matter how hard we fought. We killed or wounded his companions but not him, he fought as a man possessed by evil spirits. He is famous among our people, although it is a shame to us. We call him the ‘Tree Warrior’.” “Is he also the leader of this so-called ‘Wolf Pack’ of which he spoke?” “I have heard of this ‘Wolf Pack’, they are well known to the northern tribes. When Caesar unleashes them, they attack, howling like wolves and fighting like devils. The tribes fear them thinking they are from the spirit world. They have been known to sway the outcome of a closely contested battle, usually in the Romans favor. They wear the skins of wolves over their helmets and around their shoulders and it is said they wear the fang of a wolf on a chain around their necks. It is said that if they fall, the evil spirits take their bodies into the underworld for none have ever been found lying dead on the field of battle.” “You possess such a symbol?” Calaxius asked, turning to look directly at Claudius, who didn’t speak but reached inside his tunic and produced his silver trimmed wolf fang, showing it to the Lemonvici chief. With this action a murmur rose from those that could see the token. “What about you Arieltus, would you like to fight this man and avenge the deaths of so many of your tribesmen?” “I do not fear him but I am no match for his skills great one. However, I would like to poke out his eyes, after he is dead, so his spirit will wander the underworld, unseeing, for all eternity,” Arieltus said, making a sign to ward off evil spirits. Calaxius gave a hand signal and before Claudius could react, ten warriors surrounded him with their spears raised. “I will consult with my advisors Roman. You will wait while we decide your fate,” Calaxius said, dismounting along with the other three riders and retiring a short distance away. The discussion quickly became animated and heated as Claudius watched the four men confer. There was shouting and hand waving and obvious disagreement, which went on for some time. Finally, the group broke up and Calaxius walked toward Claudius, but stopped short of where he was standing. “Well my Roman friend, it seems we have a deadlock. Two of us want to kill you now and two of us want to agree to your terms. Seeing that the outcome of this event directly affects the lives of our tribesmen, do you have anything to say before we let them decide?” “Just this Calaxius, you are a proud people known for your courage and skill in battle. You could easily kill me without honoring my request, for individual combat, but you and I both know that word of that error would eventually surface and then the Lemonvici would no longer be respected as great warriors, they would be dubbed murderers. In time, all the tribes under Vercingetorix banner would know of the treachery.”

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Calaxius looked somewhat askance at Claudius. “So, you know of the plan, eh. You are smart as well as being skilled in combat. Never the less, we will put it to a vote and let my warriors decide.” When the choice was put to a vote there were a few voting for immediate death. When the vote came to allow the fight to commence, the response was deafening, the cry rose from thousands of throats. “Fight, fight, fight”, the men chanted. They would see their champion square off against this Roman and it would be a story each one could tell his children and his grandchildren, for generations to come. “You heard the response Roman. The boys just want to see a good fight,” Calaxius said laughing. “Your opponent will be my first-born son, Vercingitus, who is named to honor Vercingetorix. He is also a great warrior,” Calaxius said, putting his arm around the shoulder of the man standing next to him. Other than Calaxius and Merkovistus, Claudius hadn’t paid much attention to two of the men among the four mounted leaders. Now, as he looked closely at his opponent he realized that Vercingitus was just a much younger version of Calaxius. “Very well Calaxius. I am ready to fight your son but first I would hear it from your own mouth. I would hear you agree to the terms I have set forth so there will be no doubt when the outcome of this battle is known.” “You question my integrity Roman? That is a very dangerous thing to do,” Calaxius snarled, glaring at Claudius, who glared back with equal fervor. “Very well Roman, I admire your bravery. Let it be known from here and now. If the Roman wins we will immediately depart from the land of the Pictones and leave them in peace. If Vercingitus wins we will not only take all this Roman’s possessions but we will also take his head and what we originally came for, from the Pictone, and we will boast of our victory, over him, throughout all of Gaul.” A thunderous roar went up from the assembled troops and Claudius gave Calaxius the Roman salute. “Now let the battle begin,” Calaxius shouted, amidst another roar from the men. “May I ask your indulgence Roman?” Vercingitus said. “My body is stiff from many days in the saddle I must stretch and warm my muscles before we begin.” Claudius nodded, knowing that the words were not a request and also began his stretching regimen. As this exchange between the two combatants was taking place, the horde of men shuffled to Claudius’ left and right, moving to form a very large circle. Everyone was scrambling to find the best vantage point to watch the contest. Claudius watched the Lemonvici warrior go through his warm-ups. Very similar to mine, Claudius thought. The only difference between us is my armor, his chain mail shirt and the lengths of our swords, my Roman short sword and his three and one half foot long Gallic sword. Claudius also quickly realized the man was left-handed. An immediate warning sounded inside his head, as he recalled the lessons from his father. “Beware of a left handed swordsman. Swordplay trickery won’t work and the blows will be coming from an unfamiliar direction. When using his weapon, his forehand strength will be against the weakness in your grip, his strong foot will be his left foot and he will drive off that foot. Above all, do not try to think through your defense, just let it happen, by instinct.” All of this flashed through Claudius’ mind, in an instant, as the preparations continued. Vercingitus was very fit. He was taller than Claudius by a good half foot. The muscles over his arms and legs rippled as he exercised. He is also younger, Claudius

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thought, his stamina will be greater. Claudius also saw confidence in the young man’s eyes, and most importantly, no fear. All things considered, Claudius knew he faced a very formidable opponent, who could easily kill him. The warm-ups concluded, the inevitable circling commenced, each man taking the measure of the other. A wary opponent was a dangerous opponent, Claudius thought as he circled observing this first-born son of Calaxius. Claudius remembered the man hadn’t spoken too much when in attendance at the recent conference and despite his strong physical appearance, gave no outward display of a pseudo courage. He doesn’t need to, Claudius thought, he is confidant in his abilities. The first clash of weapons was nothing more than a tip of spear against metal on a shield boss. Very soon this contact became more rapid and much more violent. Claudius quickly determined, the man was skilled with the spear. He countered every attack by Claudius, just as Claudius countered every one of his. The spectators wildly cheered every blow landed by Vercingitus, every blow landed by Claudius was met by silence. Suddenly, Vercingitus launched a furious attack with blazing speed. Claudius was prepared for it but still went back on his heels, somewhat surprised that so large a man could move so quickly. He felt the tip of Vercingitus’ spear graze his right arm just above the elbow and felt a trickle of warm blood flow down his arm. The Lemonvici cheered wildly at the sight of the blood. The wound wasn’t deep and Claudius ignored it and fought on. The ferocious attack by the Gaul continued, with out let-up and Claudius was forced ever backward, defending with every step, unable to launch an attack of his own. He fended off blow after blow, each landing with a sound thud, strong enough to kill if it hit a vital spot. Claudius did all he could to make sure that didn’t happen. He felt Vercingitus’ spear nick his right thigh and again the blood began to seep from the wound. Every new smear of blood, on Claudius’ body, brought a new roar from the audience. The words of Rufus resounded and he remembered, “Always resort to your strength, when you have a choice.” Claudius now knew he was no match for the spear of Vercingitus. Sooner or later, at this pace, he will find a weak spot in my defense and kill me, Claudius thought. Then he waited for the right moment. The spear work of Vercingitus showed no let-up, on he came, attack after attack, with no slackening. Will the man never tire, Claudius thought, and then it happened, the evidence of the slightest bit of fatigue. Vercingitus’ spear point touched the ground after one of his thrusts. Claudius waited for the next one and when it came, instead of taking the thrust directly on his shield, he timed the contact perfectly gave a little hop to his left, causing Vercingitus to over commit and Claudius’ right foot came crashing down, with all his weight behind it, snapping the spear shaft just behind the point. Vercingitus was clearly surprised by the outcome. “Well done Roman”, he said as he threw away the pointless shaft and drew his sword. Claudius discarded his spear and did the same. Now they were in Claudius’ realm, sword on sword, shield-to-shield, he felt his confidence return. His father had always said, “A prolonged attack will sap your strength and endurance more quickly than a prolonged defense. When your opponent has done this, he would be slightly more tired than you are.” Remembering this, Claudius now launched an attack of his own, slowly methodically, driving Vercingitus back on his heels. His feather light blade seemed a whir of motion, tiny cuts began appearing on Vercingitus’ body,

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biceps both thighs, and elbow, all bleeding slightly, neither man was disabled by his wounds but with the advantage was now going to Claudius, the cheering crowd fell eerily silent, realizing their champion was not as dominant as he had been. Claudius could see the eyes of his opponent and he saw a hint of respect that he hadn’t seen there before. On they fought, each man giving as good as he got, each sweating profusely in the now mid-morning sun. Claudius had taken the trouble to shave off all of the facial hair he had grown over time. It had felt strange when he had done it but now he thanked the Gods that he had. Vercingitus, on the other hand, was sweating so profusely; his long hair and beard were plastered to his head and body. “If your body can’t dispel its own heat it will serve to tire you more quickly,” his father had said. Claudius could see evidence of it now, in his opponent. His movements were not as quick and agile as they once had been; they were more deliberate and definitely slower. Claudius watched and waited for his opportunity. Vercingitus was leaning a little more forward, with every thrust of his sword, committing a little more forward weight each time. Claudius was absorbing the thrusts on his shield, a loud clang resulting from each blow. When the next one came Claudius didn’t take it directly but turned the shield slightly to create a glancing blow, causing Vercingitus to extend a fraction more of distance to the point of being off balance. Before he could recover, Claudius spun fully around and inflicted a substantial wound on the left ribcage of his opponent, and Vercingitus stumbled backward, heavily, holding his side. Claudius couldn’t see any blood so he guessed the blade didn’t penetrate the chain mail but he knew he had inflicted a very painful wound and perhaps broken a rib. The crowd responded with a collective sigh and concern showed on the face of Calaxius. Now Claudius deployed his strategy to win, he switched his sword to his left hand and his shield to his right. Vercingitus was aghast, and totally surprised. Claudius remembered the countless hours of practice, fighting left handed, over and over, with Rufus, to gain familiarity, then, when sparring, and without warning, having to switch hands in the course of the match. He and Rufus had done this with wooden weapons, except, now, the weapons weren’t made of wood, they were made of steel. “Yes Claudius, it is awkward at first, but over time, you will become proficient at it. You may never be as good as you are with your dominant hand but you will be good enough to defeat a very surprised opponent. It is a technique that I used often, in the arena.” Claudius knew well, the risk involved, but all his instincts told him, this was the right strategy and the right time. When Claudius executed the switch, a gasp went up from the watching army, and when he launched his first assault against Vercingitus, the cheers were for him, not his opponent, a grudging respect, given by the warrior society when they recognized superior skill. Never had the Lemonvici seen such a strategy, switch hands in the middle of a contest, unthinkable. Claudius could now see panic in Vercingitus’ eyes. The man was close to being spent. He was favoring his left side and blood was leaking from many tiny cuts about his arms and legs. “Beware of a spent opponent. He may have enough energy left to kill you,” his father had said. Almost in fulfillment of a prophecy, Vercingitus launched a furious last-ditch effort to overcome his opponent. Claudius countered every blow coolly, knowing that it was just a matter of time now.

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The blows he was parrying had no force behind them; they were delivered out of desperation and futility. When Claudius saw his opportunity, he engaged Vercingitus’ long sword, gave it a backhand rotation, effectively hooking the sword and using all his strength, flicked the sword out of Vercingitus’ hand an sent it spinning away to land in the dust. Claudius now attacked with all his strength. A disarmed Vercingitus was holding his shield with both hands trying desperately to fend off the attack. When he inevitably backpedaled, Claudius charged in, swept his shield aside and landed a left hand blow squarely on the jaw of Vercingitus, knocking the man to the ground unconscious. Claudius stood over the man, sword at his throat and looked to the Lemonvici chief for a sign. Calaxius said nothing just hung his head in defeat. Claudius’ victory was complete. Claudius sheathed his sword, put down his shield, took off his helmet and motioned for water to be brought. He poured the water over Vercingitus lips and splashed more water over his head and face to revive him. Vercingitus open his eyes to Claudius trying to help him to his feet. “I salute you ‘Tree Warrior’ and leader of the ‘Wolf Pack’. You have bested me in a fair combat and my life is yours to take, for I truly cannot go on.” “I don’t want your life Vercingitus. You are a great warrior, the best I have ever faced. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Live your life, as fully as you can, love a woman, marry, have a family, grow old, partake of the things that are important. There is no glory in dying needlessly, my only desire is to have what was agreed upon, take place, and if it pleases you and your father, my freedom.” By now, Calaxius had joined them, as had many others to congratulate both combatants on an epic battle. “Well Roman Vero, now it is my turn to salute you,” Calaxius said, striking his breast with his forearm. “You have spared my son’s life when you could have taken it. I am indebted to you. We will leave the land of the Pictone in peace, as we found it, and yes, you may go in peace whenever you wish.” “There is one thing Calaxius, I think it would mean a great deal to the Pictone people and it would certainly mean a great deal to me.” “What is it Claudius Vero?” “As you may remember, I mentioned that I have lived with the Pictone tribe for the last year. I came to them under orders from Caesar himself. My orders were to infiltrate the tribe to learn what I could about the battle plans of all the tribes in southern Gaul. What I learned instead was how fulfilling it could be to live in peace with a gentle caring people and how that knowledge could teach me to love and be loved. In view of this, I cannot bear to go back and face them after betraying them. I wish you to send a messenger and tell them that I succeeded in my quest, to deter your army from depriving them of food, but that I died as a result of wounds received in the battle. I would rather have them remember me as their champion, not as their betrayer. Would you do that very important task and for me?” Calaxius placed his hand on Claudius shoulder and said, “You are no longer Roman Claudius Vero, you have now become a Gaul, a member of the Pictone tribe. Yes, I will do as you ask, but you may be wrong about the Pictones, they may forgive your transgressions and welcome you back with open arms.”

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t face them, I would be too ashamed. I will travel to rejoin my legion and report to Caesar as ordered. I will honor my orders and tell Caesar that Vercingetorix will unite all of Gaul and lead that force against him. I will also report to Caesar that the people of Gaul are a decent people, who love their land and their homes and are not barbarians, as many in Rome think. In fact, I will tell him the Gauls are more civilized than many Romans.â&#x20AC;?

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Chapter XIV Return to the Tenth Where was Caesar and where had he taken the army? That was the question. I will return to Bibracte, if anyone knows where the Tenth Legion is, it will be Servatorus, he thought. He reassumed his Gallic identity. He let his hair and beard grow out, as he traveled. At the outset, he saw no one and, in a very brief span of time, he again looked the part of a Gaul. He had stowed away his helmet, armor and weapons, shouldered his pack left the Lemonvici on the the great grassy plain, and headed northeast. His journey, on this occasion, was less circuitous and more direct. He didn’t know exactly how far away Bibracte was but recalling the military maps he had seen there, he estimated the travel time would be less than half of the time it took him to get to the land of the Veneti. The Gallic winter descended on him with a vengeance. The bitter north wind blew steadily, and the accompanying snowfall slowed his progress considerably. Still, he forged ahead, once again living off the land. He soon discovered that all Gallic men, of soldierly age, were also on the march and seemed to be headed in the same general direction as he, resulting in no lack of human traffic, on what few roads there were. The steady stream of men and wagons served to trample the snow and turn the roads to semi-frozen mush during the day and over to hard razor edged ruts during the night. He thanked the Gods for his warm almost waterproof footwear. The aim of the stream of soldiers was to join up with the army of Vercingetorix. The gathering point was rumored to be Gergovia where the muster was expected to produce upwards of a half million men. The Lemonvici must also be headed there, Claudius mused, as he thought of them and their chief Calaxius. In fireside information gathering, as he traveled the miles, Claudius learned that, after reaching Gergovia, a journey of another one hundred miles or so, would bring him to Bibracte. “Why would you want to go to Bibracte,” he was asked, we are all headed for Gergovia?” “I have some family there and I was wondering how far I would have to detour my travel to stop in and see them. I guess it is too far to justify a visit,” he replied to the questioner. Some of the traveling warriors were groups from various tribes or clans, but many, such as he, were single travelers, soldiers of fortune, most of which had never been to war. Claudius knew that nothing could prepare one for the horror of war. When he looked in the eager eyes of these young would-be heroes, he felt pity for them. He knew, many of them would die in their quest for glory. He was able to understand most of the different languages he heard and he found no difficulty in communicating with his fellow travelers. He kept to himself, fearing discovery but there were no incidents where the revelation of his true identity was ever threatened. In the dead of night, he parted company with the masses heading toward Gergovia and resumed his northeasterly track. He had been advised, by his fellow travelers that the best route to Bibracte was to follow the Liger River until it merged with another great river called the Elaver. The meeting of these two great rivers caused a torrent of rapids,

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visible for miles, when approaching from the south. After making that landmark, he was told it, was an easy twenty-five mile trek to Bibracte. The Liger was indeed a great river, very wide, rapidly flowing, created by the watershed of the surrounding mountains. It slithered its way between them like a silvery snake, scales gleaming in the sun. The river ran so swiftly, Claudius thought he might not be able to cross it, with his burden, but before long the mountains began to level off into mere hills and he soon found a suitable ford. When he saw the impressive rapids, he was elated for he now knew his journey, to Bibracte, was nearing its end. The route to the city was well traveled and passed through numerous villages. When he reached the two rivers, he decided to stop for the night in a nearby town. The town had two inns. He picked one, deciding that a warm bed and shelter from the cold was more preferable to another night, sleeping on the cold hard ground. The next morning he was refreshed. He ate a substantial meal, gathered up his belongings and paid his lodging fee, with copper rings from the Pictone tribe. His horses had also been sheltered and well fed and even seemed eager to make trail as he set out on the final leg of the trip to Bibracte. He sensed he was in friendly territory. The flow of warriors, trekking toward Gergovia, thinned and then disappeared all-together. The steady flow of warriors was replaced by a flow of pedestrians, one would expect to encounter, on a road such as this. I must now be in the land of the Aedui, he thought, knowing the Aedui to be friends and allies of the Rome. How good it will be to see old friends and speak and hear my native tongue again. One part of his journey had been beyond his anticipation. The lonely hours, on the trail, found his thoughts drifting back to Darcia, over and over. He had missed other women in his life, his mother, Agathara, Alletes, but never like this, a constant aching and longing. He saw her face in every stream, felt her touch with every breeze and the hole in his heart, had grown into a yawning chasm. Yet, it was a sweet pain he felt. He feared the pain would never go away and never diminish in intensity. These new feelings, of love, frightened him and humbled him with their power. How had Marcus functioned after the death of Portia and their child? Marcus had loved them no less than Claudius loved Darcia. Where had he found the strength to go on? It was unimaginable. Perhaps the pain will lessen, as time goes on, he thought. He could see the watchtowers of the permanent army camp now, visible in the distance. The road, heading toward them, was wider, packed hard with snow and ice and much more serviceable, with the curious mixture of clay and crushed stone that constituted a typical Roman military, road built with the labor and sweat of Roman soldiers. The city was walled against attack and as he approached those formidable fifteen-foot log walls, they were completely surrounded by a moat, the moat displaying sharpened wooden stakes protruding from its bottom. They loomed menacingly to discourage any would-be attackers. He could see the helmeted sentries, wrapped in their legionnaireâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cloaks, to protect them against the cold, pacing back and forth, each breath forming a small vapor cloud. Spears upright, twenty paces left, turn, twenty paces right, all along the battlement,

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ever vigilant, as was the Roman way. He felt a sense of familiarity at the sight. Coming home to a routine he knew so well. The approaches to the city gate were thronged with people, eager to conduct their typical endeavors of business, with the soldiers inside. Claudius kept pace with the flow of traffic, anticipating that he would be stopped at the gate. After all, the number of young men headed for a rallying point at a distant city, was certainly not a secret, that had been kept very well. He knew the sentries would be ordered to be extra vigilant, looking for any sign of trouble; he was not disappointed in his expectation. “You there, yes you, come here and state your business,” one of the two Roman soldiers posted at the gate, in full battle dress, pointing to Claudius, said. “My name is Claudius Marcus Varinus and I am a centurion in Caesar’s Tenth Legion,” he said, stating his full name and staring straight into the eyes of his interrogator. Both soldiers started to laugh. “You hear that Phillipus, he’s a Centurion in Caesar’s Tenth? What’s in that pack your carrying, traveler, I suppose it’s your armor and centurion helmet?” “As a matter of fact, that is exactly what’s in my pack. Here, let me show you,” Claudius said. As he moved to undo his pack, both soldiers brought their spears and shields up to the ready position. “Slowly my friend, open your pack very slowly,” one of the sentries said. As Claudius slowly undid his pack, the expression on the faces of the two men went from one of amusement to one of dismay. When they saw what Claudius had revealed, the two men snapped to attention and saluted. “Forgive us sir but we are in a state of war here and we have our orders to detain all suspicious persons, especially those of warrior potential.” “It is of no consequence soldiers, I understand. Were I in your position, seeing me, as motley and unshaven, as I must be, I would have done just as you did. However, I do need clearance to see Gaius Servatorus, the commander of the garrison, as soon as possible.” “Sir, forgive us but that would not be possible. Servatorus is no longer commander. He has retired and gone to his plot of land in Apulia to build himself a house and become a farmer.” “I do remember him saying that, about his retirement dream, although, I remember it as being Arretium he was headed for, not Apulia.” “Sir, I am not positive that this is accurate, but I believe he went on a special mission for Caesar, and as a reward for this service, he was given a very large plot of land in Apulia, near the city of Casinum.” “Yes I know of the city, it’s on the east coast of Italy, a long way from Arretium. Who would be the new commander then? Claudius inquired. “His name is Cassius Piso sir. He is legate to Caesar and in command of the Thirteenth Legion, which is now billeted here at Bibracte. There used to be only two cohorts, when Servatorus was in command, now the garrison is at full legion strength,” Phillipus said. “I recognize the name, he has headed the Thirteenth for a long time. If the Thirteenth is here and Piso is in command, then he would be the man I want to see.”

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“Come with us sir, we will turn you over to the roving sentries, they will escort you to the officer’s billet where you can clean-up. We assume you want to make yourself presentable to the general?” “Yes, yes, that is precisely what I want to do and thank you.” After he washed shaved and tidied-up his gear, he headed toward the familiar location of the Bibracte garrison’s central command building. Claudius approached the general’s quarters, which had previously been Servatorus’ quarters. He remembered the general from some of the command tent meetings but he never got an opportunity to know the man himself. He had only dealt with him in an official capacity. He walked down the dividing hallway, his studded boots clacking on the wooden floor planking. He passed the room where Torgano had taught him the Veneti tongue and customs, the desk and chairs were placed just where he remembered them to be. He could look through the portals, to his right, as he passed them and see the walled courtyard where he and Torgano had sparred with both Roman and Veneti weapons. It all came rushing back to him in a flood of reverie. What had happened to his friend? Was Torgano still there, a prisoner, were his family still hostages of the Romans? There were many unanswered questions; Claudius approached the commander’s office door with some trepidation. After he was announced he waited patiently for his audience with Piso. The time passed. The sentry who had announced him stood at rest just outside the door. There were many visitors in and out of the general’s office, mostly military personnel, but some civilians too, and still he waited. Claudius had started to doze off when he felt a hand on his shoulder. A different sentry, than the one who had originally announced him, was shaking him. “Sir, sir, wake up, the general will see you now. Claudius felt a trifle sheepish, but rose quickly, adjusted his leather, armor and weapons, put his centurion’s helmet under his arm and made his way into the general’s office. Claudius gave Piso a crisp military salute, which was returned, just as crisply, and then the general invited Claudius to sit in a chair directly in front of his desk, a desk well remembered from Claudius’ meetings with Servatorus. The general remained standing, stroking his chin, sizing Claudius up with an unabashed curiosity. Claudius realized he was looking at a career soldier. This was no Senator serving his required military obligation, to gain a reputation as a competent commander, and then resume his political career; this was a soldier, from his head to his toes. He even had numerous battle scars on his arms and upper legs. The man was very fit, perhaps midfifties, no paunch, clean shaven with a full head of gray hair, cropped close. He stood as tall as Claudius and emanated authority. Not quite like Caesar, but not far off. A man who knew how to wage war and well experienced in that endeavor. His brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and Claudius waited quietly while the general completed his visual assessment. “So, Centurion Varinus, here you are, finally. We wondered what had happened to you. Caesar has been nagging me about you since I installed the Thirteenth here at this garrison. You must be very important to him? So, tell me Centurion, what have you been up to, out there rubbing elbows with the enemy?” “Greetings sir. Your question tells me that Caesar has kept you apprised of what my mission was. It’s a long story sir. I’m not sure you want to hear all of it”.

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“No, no, of course I want to hear of it, that’s why I kept you waiting. I have cleared my schedule for the remainder of the day. You may take as long as you need; this is fascinating stuff, go ahead, I want to hear all of it.” Claudius did tell him most of it, even the part about him risking his life in his challenge to the Lemonvici, only omitting the part about his meeting and falling in love with a Pictone girl named Darcia. The general even had food and wine brought in so that Claudius wouldn’t have to interrupt his narrative. “Fascinating story Claudius, I’m sure you will have to tell it again when you meet with Caesar, which I guarantee you, he is looking forward to. You have obtained some very valuable information and now you will not only know the enemy, you will be able to hear him in his native tongue and have the ability to separate the truth from the lies. Accurate and reliable intelligence is crucial to a commander in an alien land; but what am I saying, you know all of that already. Now, after that excellent report, of your mission, do you have any questions for me,” Piso said? “Yes sir, I have several, if you don’t mind.” “I don’t mind, I will tell you whatever I can.” “First, and most importantly, there is a matter of a Veneti warrior, known as Torgano. He was my trainer in the ways of the Veneti. He taught me his native language, which helped me to communicate. He also taught me the use of his native weapons and the personal combat techniques of his people. This knowledge may have ultimately saved my life. Without his help, I could not have even dreamed of succeeding in my mission. At the time, he was imprisoned here, along with his wife and children. He was imprisoned for a crime against the army, his family was being held as political hostages. Is there any news of him or his family?” “Yes Claudius there is. You will be happy to know that he was released, along with his wife and children. I believe they left here about half a year ago, no one has heard from them since. As far as we know, they journeyed back to their homeland. The order for his release came from Caesar himself,” Piso said. “Is there anything else you wish to ask?” “That is very good news sir, thank you and I must also thank Caesar, when I see him. There is one more minor issue. Where is the Tenth Legion located and how quickly can I rejoin my unit and resume being a soldier?” “Ah, spoken like a Roman soldier, a man after my own heart. That’s easy son, come over to this map and I will show you where they are. Here, they are here at Samarobriva. Caesar is in the process of reducing the Menapii and the Atuatuci. Four legions are deployed here and here,” Piso said pointing to two places on the map. “The shortest distance to Samarobriva would be in this direction along the Sequana River and then head due east. However, the Belgae, whose territory you would have to cross, are hostile to us. They would kill you if they caught you. A Roman centurion would be a highly valued prize. A much safer route would be to take a diagonal through the lands of the Senones, then the Sussiones and then through the lands of the Remi,” Piso said, tracing a line of travel with his finger. “All those tribes are friendly to us and I believe you will encounter no difficulty. In fact, make for the city of Suessionum, and from there it is a mere forty miles to Samarobriva. Of course you are welcome to choose whatever supplies and equipment you may require, and a good horse and a pack mule if you wish; but before you embark, stay with us for a few days and rest. The weather will start to

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improve soon. By the time you re-join the Tenth, spring will be here,” Piso said, clapping Claudius on the back, as if they were old friends. Claudius did choose to stay several extra days longer than he originally planned. In that time, he had several more meetings with Piso, who also wanted detailed accounts of Claudius’ experiences with the ‘Wolf Pack’, how he had trained them and did he think that, he, Piso, and the Thirteenth, would benefit from training and incorporating such a force. By the time Claudius left, on his journey to Samarobriva, he and Piso were, good friends. For Claudius, heading back on the trail was much like coming home to a familiar place. How many miles have I trod since Caesar gave me this mission, he wondered. Alone once again with his thoughts, his mind returned to Darcia, often over the miles he covered. He missed her most of all at night, wrapped tightly in his legionnaires cloak, warmed by the campfire, seeing her beautiful face as his last conscious thought before he fell asleep. Traveling the distance to Suessionum took seventeen days. The weather stayed mild, with only the nights being chilly. Often the wind whipped up, bringing brief snow flurries but thankfully, there was no sleet or rain. He had chosen to travel on horseback and led one mule as a pack animal. He carried all his food and food for the animals so he didn’t have to worry about a campsite with forage. Water was abundant, from the numerous small streams he encountered as he made his way. Suessionum, much like Bibracte, was a large Gallic city. There were no walls, surrounding the city, but just outside the city, there was a large, empty, Roman army marching camp. The legions had obviously been there but had moved on, leaving the camp intact, for possible future use. Upon entering the city, Claudius learned that there was a small Roman garrison of one century, housed within the city, in civilian quarters. They sent out daily patrols of a half-century, each half taking the duty on alternate days. They had experienced no trouble and the patrols were mostly of a routine nature. He also learned that, from Suessionum, and with an early start, he could be in Samarobriva by midday. Claudius could feel his anticipation rising at the prospect of seeing old friends and being among his comrade-in arms, whom he had missed more than he had realized. I have not thought much about them, but now that I expect to see them soon, it brings me great joy, he thought. He set down for the night at a local inn, one highly recommended by the off-duty patrol. He ate well, slept in a clean comfortable bed and had his animals fed, watered and groomed. When he attempted to pay for all of these services, the following morning, he found that he needed no money. His charges were on the house, a gift from the people of Suessionum, grateful for the protection supplied by the Roman soldiers, left there by Caesar. As he traveled the well-paved road to Samarobriva he reflected on the night before. He had stayed up late burnishing his armor, removing any vestiges of rust or tarnish. He cleaned and oiled all his leather and combed the red horsehair crest of his centurion’s helmet. He also carefully cleaned and brushed his legionnaire’s cloak. He had the innkeeper’s employees launder his tunic while he bathed in a hot tub of soapy water, a luxury he hadn’t afforded himself since leaving Verdueen, having only washed with cold water, since then. He also shaved off his slightly grown beard and cut his hair to

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proper military length. Looking in a mirror of polished bronze, mounted on the wall of his room, he thought he was well prepared to go before Caesar. There was a considerable amount of traffic on the road he traveled, which was obviously a main thoroughfare between Suessionum and Samarobriva. He passed several foot patrols, smartly exchanging salutes with them, their shields carrying the Bull emblem of the Tenth Legion. The city of Samarobriva lay in a valley surrounded by snow capped mountains. There were many conifers, on the surrounding slopes, their color gave a deep green contrast to the white snow cover, which was now beginning to reveal patches of bare ground, heralding the inevitable coming of spring. The deciduous trees still exhibited bare branches, it being a bit too early for leaves but the leaf buds were there, ready to burst. The road, on this final leg of his journey to the city, headed uphill toward a pass between two mountain peaks. When Claudius topped the crest of the hill, a view of the whole city was spread out before him. The valley floor also contained a Roman army camp, one mile before the city. It was heavily fortified, with a sturdy stockade, and two moats instead of one, encircling the camp. The camp was unusually formidable and large enough to easily accommodate three legions. Claudius paused to stare in wonder at the sight before him. There were six roads in and out of the city, all very busy, bustling with traffic of every description, radiating out from the center of the city like spokes in a wheel. In sharp contrast to the neat orderly activity of the army camp, the city seemed to boil with activity. The smoke from thousands of chimneys gave rise to a cloud that hung over the city like a wispy gray blanket. He had never seen a Roman army camp from such a vantage point, as he now enjoyed, and he suddenly realized what a marvel of engineering it was. Worth every bit of toil and trouble. This routine pick and shovel strategy had saved countless lives by discouraging or repelling enemy attacks. The army camp was nearly as large as the city itself, yet its streets, ramparts and moats gave it a sense of order compared to the chaotic randomness, of the city it protected. The camp was also busy and Claudius could see the goings and comings of both foot and mounted soldiers. There was even evidence of civilian traffic, no doubt conducting a lucrative business with the soldiers therein. He rethought the construction of the two moats, which was unusual. The generals must have some fear of a large-scale attack to take that kind of precaution, or maybe they just needed something for the soldiers to do, he mused. The road soon began its gradual descent to the valley floor. The climb up the opposite side had somewhat winded the animals, but now, with little effort, and a leisurely gait, they ambled toward the city. It was shortly before midday. The time of travel estimate had been quite accurate. At approximately one mile from the camp, the road widened out and ran level. Claudius noticed a small troop of riders approaching at a walk. They were uniformed soldiers but they were not in battle dress. They must be out exercising their horses, he thought. The outrider, in the lead, was turned away from him but something about the horse caught Claudiusâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; attention. I know that horse, he thought and as soon as he sensed

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it, the rider turned around. By the Gods, he suddenly realized, it was Marcus riding Thunder! As their eyes met Marcus suddenly realized who he was looking at and let out a whooping yell that startled all the horses in the troop. Both men immediately dropped their reins, dismounted and ran to embrace one another, the tears streaming down their faces, each laughing and crying and blubbering with the surprise. When the shock of seeing each other, wore off a bit, each man stepped back to look at his old friend. Marcus was speechless so Claudius spoke first. “Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, what a treat to meet up with you, here and now, after all this time. You are a balm for my weary eyes. We have so much to catch-up on, I don’t know what to say or where to begin.” By now, several veteran riders, of the troop, recognized Claudius as their former commander. They dismounted and surrounded him, shaking his hand and welcoming him back. Marcus just stood off to one side, allowing the welcoming to take place, with wet eyes and a very wide grin on his face. When the excitement died down, Marcus stepped forward and again embraced Claudius. “I can’t believe it’s you. I thought you were dead. Now here you are looking fit and ready for duty, as though you had never left. I have missed you greatly, my friend.” Claudius, not exactly dry eyed himself, felt a surge of affection for this man. The brother he had never had, the friend he had confided in, the man he would give his life for, if the need arose. He knew, without doubt, that Marcus would do the same for him. “There is much I have to do before we can spend some time together Marcus. I must report to Caesar as soon as possible. After that, we can meet and have a long, long talk. I have so much to tell you and I hope you have a lot of information for me.” “I understand my friend and I agree, don’t keep the great man waiting; but before you go, I must say you are a different man than the one I knew before. There’s something new about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, but I will think about it for a while and it will come to me. When you are free, you still have a billet with me. The Provost left it open for the event of your return. You also have a lot of back pay waiting for you. We are in row eleven, tent nine, not far from Caesar’s quarters. I will see you there sometime later today, whenever you can make it. I must say Claudius, you have made an ordinary day, extraordinary. You have lifted my spirits, beyond measure my friend. Until later then, oh, by the way, here is something for you to think about. I have a special surprise for you. Something so special, you can’t imagine what it is. I will enjoy the look on your face when you see it,” Marcus said, as he remounted and directed his charges to continue on their original path. As they rode away, Marcus and those riders Claudius knew, kept looking back at the lone centurion standing in the middle of the road, just to make sure their commander had returned and to verify that they had indeed seen a man, and not a ghost. Claudius made his way to the middle of the camp. One always found the commander’s tent or head quarters in the middle of a camp, and this one was no exception. When he reined up outside the structure he sought, he was surprised to see that headquarters was not a tent but a permanent wooden structure with a stone foundation and wood shingled roof. The structure even had windows and permanent wooden doors,

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much more elaborate than a typical camp. Caesar must plan on being here for a while, Claudius thought. There were several hitching posts, buried in the earth, in front of the building, and Claudius tied his mount and pack animal to one of them and climbed the stairs to a raised railed porch. He approached the great wooden doors and easily pushed one of them open, it swinging noiselessly on its bronze hinges. He stepped inside the building and closed the door. The windows were narrow and open to the weather and allowed a good deal of light to enter the atrium area. There were torches fixed in sconces on the walls but they were unlit due to the brightness of the day. There were a few braziers lit, to provide a little warmth to the building, but not overly so. Claudius headed down the corridor, looking for the largest room, knowing Caesar would need the largest space available to administer his command. He found the largest office, which he could see through an anteroom. The larger room had a large desk covered with maps and scrolls, which he presumed to be Caesar’s. The duty officer, seated at his own desk, in the small anteroom, had his back turned to Claudius and didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence. Claudius waited for a well-mannered interval then spoke to the man’s back. “Excuse me sir but an old friend of yours is here and he’s wondering if you might have a moment for him?” “And just who might that old friend be now,” Septimus said, as he turned around, stopping in mid-sentence to gape open mouthed at Claudius. “By the hair on Mars’ arse, it’s you Claudius. We had given you up for dead lad. This is truly a gift from the Gods and a gift to these old eyes. How in blazes are you?” Septimus said, as he came around the desk and wrapped his arms around Claudius. “Septimus, it is so good to see you, and as you can see, old friend, I am not dead, in fact, I am very much alive and in very good health,” Claudius said, affectionately. “Here Claudius, come sit with me. Orderly, bring some wine, not watered, and be quick about it, Septimus bellowed, “This is a cause for celebration.” When the cup of wine was brought it turned into several cups of wine as Claudius related his story to the old soldier, who was every bit as fascinated with the tale, as Piso had been. Much of a soldier’s life has to do with repetition and routine. It was a breath of fresh air to hear new stories of adventure, one had neither lived, nor heard before, although, in the case of the last two old soldiers he had met, Claudius knew they would have many interesting stories of their own. For the second time, Claudius told the story of what had befallen him in the last year and several months, again leaving out the part about Darcia. After this latest narrative Septimus, now satisfied and informed, updated Claudius on Caesar’s whereabouts. Caesar is in the city next door Claudius. He and his legates are in assize with the Thanes and Druids from many of the northern tribes. He is trying to get them to submit to us without bloodshed. He is also recently returned from Rome where he had to go to due to the assassination of a politician, one Clodius Pulcher, I believe his name was, and a very close friend of Caesar’s to boot. It seems the man’s death sent the city into chaos, riots and such, as he was well loved, and respected, by the common folk. It took Caesar two market intervals to restore order. I have only seen him briefly in the last two months.” “Does he ever lose Septimus? Have you ever known Caesar to suffer defeat?”

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“No Claudius, I have been with him ever since Lesbos and I have never known him to have suffered defeat. Before Lesbos, I cannot say, but I think not, not ever. His spirit is indomitable. He is one of those that do not submit to defeat. He is one of Fortune’s favorites. His troops love him and will follow him wherever he leads them, even into Orcus, if need be. They believe he cannot lose. I must say though, we came close, four months ago, at Cenabum. We were outnumbered two to one. We fought the Bituriges and the Carnutes to a draw but we suffered many casualties in the process. We killed thousands of them. Caesar had to send for reinforcements from the provinces to bolster our depleted forces. He recently took command of newly formed legion, the Fifteenth, all green recruits. We, mostly me, have been training them for the last month. They have yet to be blooded. The army, at present, is nine legions, all at full strength, ready to roll.” “Nine legions Septimus, the army has doubled in size since I left, incredible.” “You’ll be relieved to know that your friend Labienus is off to the northern coastal region traipsing around reducing the Menapii. Trebonius is also in the northeast, close to the Rhine, reducing the Atuatuci. Caesar, as I mentioned, is next door trying to calm the leaders of the surrounding tribes. There was some treachery by a leader of the Senones and the Carnutes. His name was Acco. Caesar discovered the plot and took this Acco prisoner. He wanted to make an example of this traitor, who had one foot in our camp and one in the enemy’s. We lost two cohorts due to Acco. Caesar convened a military tribunal and Acco was found guilty and executed. ‘You don’t cross Caesar and live’, was the message conveyed. Now all the tribes are angry and restless because of this execution. They think the same thing will happen to them if they help us. Caesar is just trying to reassure them that this supposed threat is no threat at all, provided the Thanes don’t make trouble like Acco did.” “The pressures on Caesar are great Septimus. I guess it takes a great man to handle great pressure. Oh, and thank you for that up-date on Labienus. The less I see of him the better, I think.” This comment caused both men to have a laugh at the understatement. “Septimus, I am anxious to spend time with my friend and co-commander, Marcus. I encountered him and some of the ‘Wolf Pack’ on the road outside the camp, on my way here. He told me where we are billeted,” Claudius said, going to the nearest portal, to check on the angle of the sun. “He mentioned a surprise he had in store for me.” Septimus looked at Claudius, nodded slightly several times, a grin spreading over his face. “Do you have any idea what the surprise might be,” Claudius asked? “Claudius, please, what can I say? Of course I know what the surprise is, and if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” Both men started to laugh again as soon as the words were out of Septimus’ mouth. “How foolish of me Septimus. It must be the wine, clouding my thinking. Oh, it has been so good to see you and spend some catch-up time with you. I thought I was beginning to lose the talent for my own language, having spoken nothing but Veneti for such a long time. You and Piso have re-sharpened my skills. Now, I can see by the sun, the afternoon is almost gone. If you have no objections, I will seek Marcus out. I have to admit, the desire to know what Marcus has in store for me is working on me and making me very anxious.”

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“Not at all Claudius, I don’t blame you for being curious. You go ahead, I’m very sure we will have more time together later. It has been a wonderful reunion. You have gladdened my heart and made an old man laugh. I will see Caesar and tell him of your return. I am quite sure he will want to see as soon as he can. Oh, and another thing, now that you are here, I can stop sending those dispatches to Piso asking him where in blazes you are.” There was more laughing as the two men embraced once again before parting. Claudius could smell the cooking aromas, starting to emanate from the row upon row of tents as he made his way through the passages between them. Many soldiers went to the central mess tent, for their meals, when in camp; but many preferred to cook their own meals, just as they sometimes did when on the march. This was in evidence now, as he walked along, smartly returning every salute he received. Let’s see now, row eleven, there it is, now if I can just find tent nine, ah, there it is. I can’t wait to see my old friend, he thought. When Claudius entered the tent, Marcus’ face lit up and he beamed like a child receiving a birthday gift from his tata. “Claudius, Claudius. I can’t begin to tell you how good it is to see you. It is the better part of two years since we were together. Do you believe it has been so long? Here let me look at you again,” Marcus said, holding Claudius at arms length and then embracing him once again. “A lot of things have changed since I last saw you. I am tingling with anticipation to tell you all of the new things and to hear of your adventures in the land of the Gauls. Now, let me look at you more closely”. Marcus walked around Claudius, looking him up and down, very carefully. “Hmm yes, I have it. I think I know how you have changed”, he said, hands on hips, now facing Claudius directly. I too, once looked as you do now. It was long ago, but I remember it well. You have found someone my friend. You have given your heart to a woman, haven’t you?” Claudius didn’t say anything, just reddened somewhat, nodded sheepishly and dropped his head slightly toward his chest. “I can see it is also painful, this love you have, isn’t it?” “Yes Marcus it is painful. The pain comes from the fear that I will never see her again. She is a Gaul Marcus, the daughter of a Thane of the Pictone tribe, the tribe I was sent to infiltrate. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to love her. It just happened, you know. How can a Roman soldier be a Roman soldier and still love a Gallic woman, whose people hate him Marcus?” “Oh Claudius, I can see there is much to this story and I want to hear all of it, and I will, but first, I think your spirits need some lifting. Come, walk with me to the stables to see your very special surprise.” “The stables, what is it, is it something to do with Thunder or with Aphrodite?” “Well yes actually, it does have something to do with a horse, sort of. Thunder is fine, as you saw when we met, but you’re right, it concerns Aphrodite. By the way, Thunder recognized you before I did. He nickered when he caught your scent when you were still a half-mile away, he remembered you. Come, let’s go to see your surprise,” Marcus said, putting his arm around Claudius’ shoulder as he led him out of the tent toward the stable. Walking along Marcus related the bittersweet story of Aphrodite. The story was, she had gone into heat and been impregnated by a wild stallion. “All the male horses, in

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the legion, are gelded so we knew it wasn’t any of our males. We had built a temporary corral, outside the camp walls, while we were doing some renovations to enlarge our permanent stable. It appears this wild stallion, picked up her scent, leaped over an extraordinarily high fence, where the mares were kept, just to couple with Aphrodite. All of this occurred without anyone’s knowledge. Imagine our surprise when Aphrodite turns up carrying a foal. I recognized it immediately and took her out of duty rotation so she could peacefully await the coming event. It was a very difficult time for her, because of her age. The delivery didn’t go well and in the end, she died giving birth to her foal.” “This is not cheering me up Marcus. I loved her as a sister, you know that,” Claudius said, pausing to wipe a tear away. “I will miss her Marcus.” “I know you loved her Claudius, believe me when I tell you, the ‘Wolf Pack’ loved her almost as much as you did. They mourned her passing, greatly. However, the story isn’t over Claudius. The sweet part is the foal. Actually he is a colt now and he is magnificent. We are going to see him now. One other thing I must tell you. When Aphrodite was giving birth, her lover showed up. He pranced around, pawed the ground and whinnied all the while she was in labor and even after she gave birth. The moment she died, he reared up once and galloped off into the hills. We have never seen him again.” “What did her lover look like Marcus?” “His son looks exactly like him Claudius. When you see him, you will know. Here he comes now,” Marcus said pointing to a hooded man walking toward them, with a beautiful young colt close on his heels. The little colt was very frisky, totally black, mane to tail with a white blaze on his forehead. Look at the size of him Claudius. He’s only four months old.” “He is magnificent Marcus, just as you said. Who is that man walking with him, he seems familiar somehow?” “He is one of the ‘Pack’ he helped me when I delivered the foal. For some reason the little colt will follow him wherever he goes, he doesn’t even need a halter. What are you going to name him Claudius? After all, he is your horse.” “I d-don’t know Marcus. Perhaps I will think of a suitable name later on. Right now I’m still in shock over losing Aphrodite.” The colt and his attendant were closer now and Claudius’ sense of familiarity, with the man, became stronger. “What is that man’s name Marcus, I’m sure we have met before, is he one of our old squad leaders? Is it Lucius or Herilitus?” “Actually Claudius, you do know him, very well indeed, I believe his name is Rufus!” At the instant the word Rufus left Marcus’ mouth, the man pulled back his hood, to reveal his face and said,” Greetings my son, no words can describe how glad I am to see you again.” Claudius’ mouth dropped open and stayed open. He did a half stagger-step backward. He was happy, stunned and speechless, all at the same time. All the sad events that had recently dominated his mind were washed away, instantly, replaced with the unbridled joy of seeing his father. All he could do was utter one word, over and over, father, father.” Father and son embraced, the tears streaming down their faces. “I have cried more this day than I have cried in my entire life but the tears have been tears of joy, for the gift

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of seeing my father and my best friend again,” Claudius said, close by his fathers ear, as he embraced him mightily. “I share your joy my son and I too cry in our reunion. My tears are of joy and pride, seeing you after so long and seeing how far you have come. When Caesar told me where you were, I knew you would accomplish your mission and return to us, I never doubted it for an instant.” Claudius had to take a moment to recover. So much emotion, in such a short span of time, was indeed, overwhelming. Marcus placed an arm over his shoulders, “I understand my friend. It is a great deal for anyone to digest, all at once. Here, look at this magnificent animal of yours. Look how perfect he is.” Claudius went to the young horse, which was still standing quietly near Rufus. He bent over and whispered, “I love you” into the little horse’s left ear, then straightened up again. “Is it true father, does he follow you around like a puppy,” Claudius said, patting the little colt’s neck and affectionately stroking his nose? “Yes Claudius, he does. It is rather amusing, don’t you think? I was the first thing he saw after leaving his mother’s body. We had to feed him with a nipple we made out of a she-goat’s udder. I did most of the feedings so I guess he thinks I’m his mother,” Rufus said, causing the three men to laugh. “Oh father, forgive me, I just can’t picture you, Roman soldier and ex-gladiator, wet nursing a foal. It’s too funny for words”, which brought more laughter from the three men. “Come my son, let’s get our little friend back to his stall. We three have a lifetime to catch-up on. I don’t see us getting much sleep tonight,” Rufus said, as he and Claudius walked back toward the stable. In a permanent army camp, such as the one at Samarobriva, the officer’s tents were much more elaborate than the officer’s tents on the march. They boasted wooden doors and floors, two bunks with room to spare and a small stove for heating and cooking. This is what Marcus used to prepare a meal for the three of them. Rufus stopped by his own tent to retrieve a jug of wine, he had been saving, just for this occasion. While Marcus cooked chunks of lamb on a spit and roasted vegetables, they all enjoyed a cup of the wine. Claudius related all of his recent experiences, to them. He told them everything; from the time he had left the Tenth Legion, under Caesar’s orders, until the present moment, including his experiences with Darcia. Marcus was smiling, and nodding his head the entire time, but said nothing. When Claudius had finished, darkness had long since fallen. Marcus and Rufus just looked at each other, each man’s face carrying a slight frown of concern for Claudius. At length Rufus spoke. “It is an incredible story Claudius. Your love for this girl and her people is obviously very deep. It won’t be an easy problem to deal with. I have that somehow you will resolve this problem within your heart and in your own time. However, one point you suggested, I strongly disagree with. You seem to think this tribe, the Pictones, whom you fought for and risked your life for, would reject you as having betrayed them. They would have faced a marauding army and probably be starving right now, if it hadn’t been for you. In my opinion, I think they would welcome you back, into

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the tribe, with open arms. You offended and insulted them but you also gave them the ultimate gift. You gave them their lives.” “I agree Claudius, Rufus is right. Your so-called betrayal pales in light of what you preserved for them. That is much more precious than any affront to their pride.” Rufus could see the conflict in his son’s eyes and he felt a surge of compassion for him. He felt as any parent would. He felt his son’s pain An awkward silence set in until Claudius spoke. “Well you two, I have shared my story and all its elements with you, now I have some questions that I would like to have answered. Father, you will be first. How is it that you are here, in this camp, with an officer’s commission? I hope you are not doing infantry duty, although, if you are I’m glad to say, you do look fit enough to do so.” “No, no, Claudius no combat,” Rufus said, laughing, “I have been hired as a trainer by Caesar. He commissioned me as a centurion so that I would be a recognizable authority over my trainees. I have trained replacements for the ‘Wolf Pack’ and some of the men of the new legion among others and also those that want to improve their swordsmanship skills. The story of how I got the job is a bit unique. “You remember Servatorus, the garrison commander at Bibracte?” “Yes father, of course, he was a good friend as well as a sort of mentor to me. He was going to retire to Arretium and be a farmer. He also said he knew you from Marius’ African campaign. “Yes he is an old friend and Caesar knew he was retiring and made him an offer. Caesar knew about me as a result of conversations with you, regarding your skills with a sword and how you learned them. He got it in his mind that he would like to hire me, the man who trained you, to do the same job for certain factions of his army, ‘Pack’ replacements new recruits and so on. He contacted Servatorus and offered him a large tract of land in Apulia if he would detour on to Brundisium, which is not far away, and try to convince his old friend Rufus to re-enlist in the army, to carry out the duties I just described. Well Servatorus did just that and here I am. That meeting with Servatorus was memorable. We also seriously depleted the wine supply of Galbus, told a lot of war stories and renewed our old friendship.” “What about Celesta, what did she think about you joining the army?” Rufus dropped his eyes and a look of sadness passed over his face. “It pains me to say Claudius but Celesta passed away three months before I saw Servatorus. When he showed up I was very depressed and Galbus was worried about me. He urged me to take the assignment. He said it would be good for me to have a change. I can honestly say, he was right. I have found a home here, with the Tenth and I enjoy working with the young soldiers” Now it was Claudius’ turn to comfort his father. He went to him and put an arm over his shoulder and said, “I am very sorry father, I know you loved her very much.” “I miss her greatly son. She was still beautiful Claudius, even in death. She died in her sleep and the physician said he thought it might have been a stroke. I owe a debt of gratitude to Caesar. Without even knowing it he has given me an opportunity to resurrect myself and have a purpose again and he has given me the even greater opportunity to serve Rome in the army with you,” Rufus said, getting a bit misty-eyed as he did. Claudius and Marcus both went to Rufus clapping him on the back and congratulating him.

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“There is one more thing father. What of Agathara, what of her, do you have any word?” “Yes Claudius regretfully, I do. She has died, apparently from old age. I had heard, at the yard, that she was close to death, so, I went to see her. She was still in the same little house, tucked away at the end of that street by the inn. She was immobile at that time, crippled with arthritis and very close to death. Her neighbors were nursing her, just as she had nursed them, for so many years. She told me to tell you she loved you and that she knew you were very close to discovering what the inscription on your sword meant. She wouldn’t tell me when, but she said you would know when it happens. Shortly after I saw her, she died. There was a great procession. The poor people bore her body through the streets of Brundisium, to honor her passing, then they built a pyre for her and scattered her ashes throughout the streets of the city that she served and loved. She was a great lady loved by the poor, whom she served, most of her life.” Claudius wasn’t surprised by Aggie’s death, only saddened that he hadn’t been there with her. She can be with her father and somehow I know she is at peace, he thought. “What of you Marcus, tell Claudius what has happened to you since you and he parted company,” Rufus asked, attempting to give Claudius a moment to collect himself after the news of Agathara’s death? “Let’s see, I think it has been, train, march, fight, train, march, fight, sort of like that my friend.” The three men couldn’t help but laugh at Marcus as he complemented his description with imaginary sword work, marching in place and more imaginary sword work to emphasize his point. “In Caesar’s army you get to do a lot of those three activities. I also have been consumed with caring for Aphrodite. I knew she would have difficulty, due to her advanced age, but thank the Gods she didn’t die needlessly. She left a life to replace her, not like me, I lost my wife and my son at the same time,” Marcus said, unexpectedly breaking down and sobbing, his shoulders heaving. This time it was Marcus needing the comforting from his friends. Claudius held Marcus in his arms until the emotion subsided and Marcus was breathing normally again. “I apologize to you Claudius and to you Rufus. Caring for Aphrodite brought back a lot of cherished memories of Portia and me. I have kept those memories bottled up inside me for far too long. Perhaps it was the wine and all this emotion that forced the cork from the bottle. Forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive my friend. Speak of her Marcus, tell us all about Portia. We want to know her and to love her also,” Claudius said. Marcus did tell them about Portia, every detail he could think of, and there were many. When he finished all three men were misty-eyed, all for the same reason, the sad story of Marcus, Portia and their son. For a brief time, each man was immersed in his own bittersweet memories. When the silence was broken it was Rufus who spoke. “Well look at us. Here we are plodding around in a flood of tears, equally shared I might add. I think it has been good. I for one feel cleansed of a crustiness I have been carrying around for far too long. I am glad to be rid of it.” Rufus could see both men nodding in agreement. “We are happy for you Claudius, Marcus and I. We have both known great loves and now, you have joined us. The way I see it, each of us has been touched by Venus, the Goddess of Love and Beauty,

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and it has been a good thing. I would rather have had, what I had, and lost it, than not have had it at all, and that gentlemen is that. And now, with the sun about to come up, I’m sure we all have duties to perform I’m also sure that we three need time to digest the raw emotion of these last few hours. I’m sure I do.” I agree father. A good time for reflection is when one’s burdens have been eased,” Claudius said, looking at Marcus and see him nod his head in agreement.

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Chapter XV The Last Battle It had been ten days since Claudius had been reunited with his father, his friend and the Tenth Legion. His daily life was almost back to normal. He had been reintroduced, to a very different ‘Wolf Pack’, than the one he had left. There were many new recruits, due to casualties incurred in the course of various actions. Many of the lost had been good friends and he greatly mourned their passing. He took his time and great pains to familiarize himself with all of the new men, quickly learning their names, attempting to give each man some semblance of individuality. However, Claudius’ reputation preceded him and the new recruits perceived him with a certain sense of awe, they seemed more than happy to serve under so famous a leader as he. He made it a point to attend his father’s and Marcus’ on-going training sessions. “Do the drills to maintain your skills,” the phrase still resonated with him. That advice had gone a long way in keeping him alive. He got back to basics and worked out with the new ‘Wolf Pack’ recruits. With practice, his horsemanship skills returned quickly. He was soon able to apply his weapons from the back of a galloping horse. It pleased him greatly to be back at work and back in command. His father had not lost his edge, or better yet, had regained it. He watched him apply his training methods. He observed the trainees and how they responded to Rufus’ patient relaxed instructions, slowly and carefully instilling knowledge into his students, without them even being aware of it. He is happy, Claudius thought. He is doing what he loves to do and he is good at it. Caesar must be pleased with the results of Rufus’ tutelage. The summons from Caesar, when it eventually arrived, came at an odd hour. It was late afternoon, on the eleventh day of Claudius’ return, when a mounted messenger reined-up in front of Claudius’ tent. Marcus hadn’t returned to the tent for their usual evening meal so Claudius was alone when the messenger knocked on the tent’s wooden door. When Claudius opened it, the messenger saluted smartly. Claudius returned the salute, just as smartly and waited for the news he had been expecting to hear long before this. “Centurion Claudius Varinus?” the messenger said?” “Yes, I am he.” “Centurion Septimus Aquinus desires your presence at the general’s head quarters as soon as possible sir!” “You may tell Septimus that I will be there straight away soldier. Is that the only message?” “Sir he also said to tell you, fresh tunic and leather, no armor or weapons required. In other words, be comfortable.” “Very well, you are dismissed, and thank you.” Parting salutes were exchanged, the messenger re-mounted and rode off.

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A short time later, as Claudius mounted the steps of the headquarters building, he felt strangely calm. He did wonder how Caesar, if that’s whom he was going to see, would receive him. Would there be others to hear his report, or would the great man choose to have a private conversation? When he approached the anteroom, to Caesar’s office, Septimus, who had been seated, at his usual place behind the first centurion’s desk, rose to greet him. “Claudius, my boy, how good it is to see you again. I trust you have recovered from the surprise of seeing your father? I wish I had been there to see the look on your face when you realized who it was. You were surprised weren’t you?” “Surprise is to mild a word Septimus. Dumbfounded would be a more accurate description,” Claudius said, joining in the spontaneous laughter erupting from both men. “I still have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. My father, here with me, as an officer in the Tenth, its unbelievable Septimus.” “Caesar is quite pleased to have him Claudius. You know what he always says, ‘My boys’, meaning his centurions, ‘Are precious, they are the backbone of my army.’ He means it to Claudius, believe me!” “You’re right my friend. What you have just said is a well-known fact.” “I will let him know you are here Claudius. I know he is anxious to see you. He cleared his schedule. He wants to hear a first hand account of your adventures and not be interrupted. Let’s just brush you up a bit, there, you look fine, wait here,” Septimus said. “Caesar will see you now Claudius, I hope the visit goes well,” Septimus said, as he led Claudius to the door, allowed him to enter and closed the door behind him. “Claudius, Claudius, how good it is to see you after all this time. Come in, come in, make yourself comfortable,” Caesar said, coming around his desk and taking both of Claudius’ forearms into his hands. Claudius knew this was a very warm welcome for Caesar to exhibit. The man rarely made physical contact with anyone. They were alone. Caesar’s desk had been turned into a table, with two place settings arranged at opposite ends. The table was filled with various foods and a decanter of wine. “I have prepared for you Claudius. We can eat and drink while we talk. I have left instructions not to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency. I want to hear your entire story, uninterrupted.” “I am honored Caesar. I do bring news. From what rumors I’ve heard, around camp, you probably already know what I am going to tell you.” “You are correct Claudius, I already know about Vercingetorix and the unification of the tribes, but I still want to hear your complete story. Before you begin, eat something, have some wine. It’s Falernian, an excellent vintage. I have it rarely and always well watered. I don’t allow any of my staff to drink while on campaign. Sullies the mind. However, due to this occasion, of your safe return, I’ll join you in a cup.” “Caesar, before I begin, I want to thank you for pardoning my friend Torgano, the Veneti warrior from Bibracte. I also want to especially thank you for enlisting my father in the Tenth. You have restored his dignity by giving him a useful purpose again. He is doing something he is good at and enjoys very much. I am grateful to you for allowing the opportunity for a soldier to serve with his father.” “Releasing Torgano was easy Claudius. The letter you wrote was so heartfelt, how could I have refused? It took only the stroke of a pen to achieve it. As far as your father is concerned, it has been my reward Claudius. The man is a master of teaching.

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The recruits love him and under his tutelage, my boys, in the Tenth, are much more formidable in battle. I have already seen it in some of the recent action and his star pupil, you, commands my ‘Wolf Pack’. That is all the proof of ability I need.” “What gave you the thought to enlist my father?” “It was one of those ideas that pops into your head. It was Servatorus who planted the seed. In communicating with me, he happened to mention that he knew your father, served with him in Africa I believe. From that information, he and I hatched the plan to recruit your father. Sweetening the deal, with a parcel of land thrown in for Servatorus, was an after thought. It worked out well for all concerned, don’t you think?” “I do Caesar, it went very well, especially for my father.” After this campaign in Gaul is over; I still want to engage Rufus’ services. I have several thousand gladiators in my employ. It is a large number built up over the years. I own and operate two schools, one in Ariminum and a much larger one in Capua. I could use a man with Rufus’ skills. I will pay him well. He will be comfortable for the rest of his life. What do you think? Will he be acceptable to my future plans?” “I think he might Caesar. It sounds like a plan that will suit him well.” “Now, while we eat, and drink, please Claudius, continue on with your story.” Caesar listened to Claudius with rapt attention. He would occasionally interrupt with a question, but for the most part, listened intently to what Claudius had to say. When Claudius told him the part about the Lemonvici, Caesar did interrupt. “This Calaxius, of the Lemonvici, tell me about him. What did he look like, what kind of man did you perceive him to be?” Claudius thought for a moment, picturing the huge Gallic chieftain, a pure Gallic warrior, a man who loved his son, a man who would exact no retribution and free the man who had defeated his son in combat. “He is a formidable man Caesar, a very large formidable man. Typical Gaul, thin lipped, ruddy complexion, long beard and mustache of reddish brown hair and enormous muscular arms. When his soldiers were arguing, about wanting to kill me, straight away, all he did was raise his arm and complete silence fell, silence from thousands and thousands of warriors, who moments before were shouting at the top of their lungs, a superior feat, don’t you think? To put it another way, he is a feared and respected commander. “I have heard some talk of this leader known as Calaxius. What about his army, were they disciplined, did they march in formation like Romans?” “No Caesar, they don’t, no formation of any kind. Just a random mass of humanity moving over the land.” “I knew it, that’s why we can beat them Claudius, they are like their countrymen to the north. They lack discipline. If they ever chose to train properly and fight with battle formations, the way we do, they could expel us from Gaul in no time; but they don’t. That’s why we will win.” “There is another quality displayed by the Lemonvici. I believe this one quality adds a grittiness that is going to make the defeat of the Gauls very difficult.” “What did you notice Claudius, please tell me?”

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“The fact that they are willing to murder and starve their own people in order to feed their soldiers, Caesar. That ruthlessness surprised me very much. An enemy with that strong a will could be near to impossible to defeat.” “It surprises me also Claudius. I had suspected that about these people, now you have confirmed it. You are quite correct. That ruthless quality does make an enemy harder to defeat.” Claudius only nodded in agreement to Caesar’s comment. “You realize you saved them, these people of Verdueen, don’t you Claudius?” “I realize it Caesar, but unfortunately, I also betrayed them.” “No, no Claudius, you were acting under the orders of your commanding general. In fact, you followed my orders precisely. You made contact with the enemy, and you were able to infiltrate his ranks and become accepted by him. If all my officers followed my orders, with that kind of precision and understanding, the army wouldn’t need me. I could general from Rome,” Caesar said, laughing. “So, then you made your way from the confrontation with the Lemonvici to here. Is that correct?” “Yes Caesar, although, along the way, there were many thousands making the trek to Gergovia. It appears that the convocation will take place there. There were literally thousands heading for that city. There was talk that, at that gathering, Vercingetorix would be made ‘King of Gaul.’ I traveled in the same direction, as all the other warriors, melting in with them. Then I broke away, turned east to head for Bibracte, where I learned you were here, at Samarobriva.” “You saw Piso of the Thirteenth then?” “Yes Caesar, I did and I was very impressed with him. A soldier, through and through, I think.” “Yes and a fine one at that.” “I apologize Caesar, for not bringing you more information than I have.” ”Nonsense Claudius, what you brought is very valuable information. It is accurate and reliable. It definitely buys us some time to start planning. I now have numerous other sources for intelligence gathering. What you have told me fits with some of it and the other fragments, over time, will also fit in. It also gives me a hint whom, among my many sources, may be lying to me. You see what I mean Claudius?” “Yes Caesar, I believe I do.” “Before I forget I have your back pay, it’s in a sack on that table over there. I also have something else to give you.” “Please Caesar, with all due respect, the gift of my father, is quite enough.” “Not nearly enough Claudius,” Caesar said opening a small wooden case lined with silk, revealing an award. “This is a gold armillae arm band, with the Tenth Legion symbol engraved on it. It is for your extraordinary bravery and successful completion of a very difficult and dangerous mission. I have presented it to you in private because your mission is still secret and will remain so, for the time being. The proper presentation would be in front of the entire Tenth Legion. For now, this simple ceremony will have to suffice. I don’t want anyone to suspect that you can speak and understand the Veneti tongue, or, that you possess intimate knowledge of how the Gauls live Claudius. You will henceforth be invited to sit on various councils where Gauls are present. The leaders often speak to each other, in their native language, when they attend these meetings. I want to be privy to what they say, when they think we don’t understand their tongue.”

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“Claudius gave Caesar a knowing smile and a nod.” I understand Caesar, my ability will be kept a secret, as you wish.” “Claudius, forgive me for asking but I have noticed the ring on your finger. I have never seen you wear a ring before. I noticed that you have kept the signet turned in towards your palm. Is there some reason for concealing what the ring bears?” “No Caesar, no particular reason. I started wearing it when I thought I might be killed by the Lemonvici. It is a reminder of who I am and where I come from.” “I sense a bit of mystery here Claudius. Is it a ring given to you by Rufus, from his ancestors?” At that instant, all the lies, Claudius had told, in his efforts to conceal his real identity, seemed to overwhelm him and he faltered and slumped back in his chair under their weight. Caesar immediately rose and went to him to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Claudius, forgive me. I have obviously offended you in some way. I didn’t mean to pry, I apologize.” Claudius didn’t say anything, he slowly reached over, with the opposite hand, grasped the ring with his fingertips and rotated it, until the signet was fully visible to Caesar. Caesar took a closer look then suddenly stepped back as though he had been struck. Edipol, I know that ring. It once belonged to Quintus Antonius Vero. Claudius, what does this mean? Please, this is very important to me. How did you come by that ring?” “It belonged to the father who raised me as a child Caesar. I am the son of Rufus’ body. He, and my mother Amelia, the wife of Quintus Antonius Vero, were lovers and they had a child, me! I was raised by my adopted father, Quintus Vero, as his own son. This was done to avoid bringing scandal to a distinguished Roman family. I grew up believing him to be my real father. Just before he was taken prisoner, and later killed, during Sulla’s bloody proscriptions, my adoptive father gave me this ring. He placed it in my hand and said, ‘Take this ring my son, one day when the threat of Sulla passes, you will be able to wear it proudly as the son and heir of Quintus Antonius Vero’. I found out, much later, at Brundisium, that Rufus was my real father. Rufus had been seriously wounded and he wanted to tell me the truth before he died. That’s when I discovered my true identity.” Caesar rocked back in his chair, noticeably affected by this revelation. “This is an incredible story Claudius, but tell me, once Sulla had died, why didn’t you try to reassert yourself and claim your true heritage?” “The incident I mentioned, when Rufus was gravely wounded, that happened as a result of me killing the son of a Roman senator, one Marcellus Flavius Drusus. I killed him in a fair fight, but, because I deemed myself a fugitive, I feared my testimony would be discounted and I would be unduly punished, perhaps even executed, even though Drusus instigated the fight and even resorted to treachery to win it. He attacked me from behind, I had no choice but to kill him, or he would have killed me.” “I remember the incidence of the son’s death. I was in Rome at the time. His father had been a highly respected member of the senate and even though the father had passed on, many years before, the son was publicly mourned by the family, with a very lavish ceremony, complete with gladiatorial games and funeral pyre. There was no mention of a sword fight causing his death. Were there any witnesses to this sword fight Claudius?”

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“Yes Caesar, there were hundreds. The entire shipyard crew turned out to see the young boat builder battle the son of a Roman senator. It was to be a friendly match with wooden sheathed weapons, then Drusus deliberately discarded his sword shield and decided to come at me with his naked blade. He apparently planned to kill me all along.” “Why did he want to kill you Claudius?” “As boys, Drusus and I were neighbors and we also went to the same school. We even had the same pedagogue. Drusus, and his friends constantly bullied me and most of the other younger students. Once I stood up to these bullies and made them look foolish. To get his revenge, Drusus and his bullies laid a trap for me on my way home from school. They severely beat me with wooden swords and left me for dead. About a year after that, my father was proscribed. Sulla’s henchmen came to arrest him. Rufus and I escaped with our lives. Before I fled to Brundisium, I went to the Drusus villa to settle the score, which I did, convincingly. When we again met by chance, at Brundisium, he must have decided to avenge what had transpired between us, many years before.” “There are more pieces to this puzzle Claudius, and I shall, reveal them to you now. I suspected you were not who you said you were, when we first met. You were far too intelligent and well educated to be just another ranker in the Roman army. What you just told me confirms my earlier thoughts. What you may not know, or remember, is that your adoptive father, Quintus Vero, was a very wealthy man. He saved my father from political extinction. The Gens Julii has great dignitas in their heritage, as you know we are descended from Aeneas. What my family didn’t have was money. Our respective fathers were great friends and your father lent my father a large sum of money. Part of the money went to buy three hundred iguera of land, a senatorial member requirement, the rest of the loan served as visible wealth, another requirement of senate members. Without that loan, my father would not have been a senator, which would have virtually nullified any political career for me. Seeing your ring greatly shocked me as you can imagine. We are linked by fate Claudius. So much so that, when your father died, at the hands of Sulla, my family mourned him, as if he were one of our own. We retrieved his body and provided the proper funeral rights deserving of a great man and a great Roman.” “I, I, had no-no idea Caesar. At the time, I couldn’t claim my father’s body or even appear in Rome. Sulla would have proscribed me too. You honor me greatly Caesar. I can now be at peace with my father’s death, knowing he received a proper burial. My deepest thanks to you and your family. I had no idea our fates were so intertwined Caesar. It would explain the love and respect I have for you,” Claudius said, sobbing softly.” “I also have love and respect for you Claudius,” Caesar said, wiping a small tear from the corner of his own eye. “Mark my words Claudius, when I return to Rome, in triumph, after all of this business in Gaul is over, I vow, your father’s wealth will be restored to you and the Vero name will be re-established to its proper place in Roman society. You, my friend, will make a fine senator. I want to restore the republic and have the senate be a respected body of government, like it was before Sulla ruined it. As a senator, you can help me do that. Instead of fighting barbarians here in Gaul, we can take on a new foe. They happen to be the barbarians of Rome and they are called the “Boni”. They are not good men

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Claudius. They have been plotting my demise for a long time but I will turn the tables on them,” Caesar said, laughing at his own quip. “There is one more problem Caesar!” “What is it my friend? I’m sure we can overcome it, whatever it is.” Pausing to make sure he had Caesar’s full attention, Claudius said, “I have fallen in love with a Pictone girl Caesar. I can’t get her out of my mind. I think about her constantly. I miss her and I miss the way of life practiced by the Pictone people. They are peaceful, kind and generous. I would be happy to spend the rest of my days with the woman I love and with her people.” “Nonsense Claudius, you are a Roman nobleman who deserves his birthright. You are also a warrior. You would be bored without the soldier’s life. I have great plans Claudius and those plans could include you. I offer you a life of power, glory, conquest and wealth beyond imagination. The world awaits us. Stay with me. In time, you will forget all about this native girl, and besides, your men need you and I need you to lead the ‘Wolf Pack’.” Claudius knew, from Caesar’s steel voiced tone of conviction that his argument, for a life of peace, with the woman he loved, would fall on deaf ears. He chose not to make that argument. Perhaps Caesar never experienced a love such as I feel. What woman could stand next to a titan such as he, Claudius thought? He left Caesar that day, resigned to the fact of Caesar’s rejection, and greatly saddened by his own resignation to it. The weather turned bad. Sleet and wind blew in from the west, sweeping across Long-Haired-Gaul, slowing all military operations to a crawl. The storm raged for several days and unless you were on the duty roster, you spent most of your time, in shelter, trying to stay dry and warm. As officers, Rufus, Marcus and Claudius stood no sentry duty and only reequipped during inactive periods, such as this one. This particular day, the three were gathered in Claudius’ tent. “When do you think we will march Claudius,” Marcus asked, as he, Claudius and Rufus sat around the stove, in the tent, trying to keep warm, the wind howling outside and the sleet pelting hard against the tent’s canvas roof. “It is difficult to say Marcus. I know Caesar left for Placentia, to pick-up command of the newly formed Eighth Legion and bring them back here to bolster the nine legions we already have.” Rufus was smiling and shaking his head no, at the same time. “What, you old fox? I’ll wager you know something we don’t,” Marcus said. Rufus kept smiling and said, “You didn’t hear it from me but Caesar isn’t taking the Eighth back here. That’s what he wants the spies to think. Oh he’ll head in this direction all right, then when he reaches Narbo, he will head north-northeast to disappear and meet up with Labienus and Trebonius in Vesontio.” “How could he do that? The Gauls will know. A legion on the march is not invisible Rufus. The only way he could accomplish that task is to come up the east side of the Cebenna Massif mountain range,” Marcus said. Rufus again smiled and nodded. “Edipol”, Claudius said. “Taking that route, this time of year is suicide. Those passes, if they aren’t already choked with snow, soon will be.”

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“Never-the-less boys, that’s what he is going to do. He will duplicate what Hannibal did over one hundred fifty years ago, except this time, no elephants,” Rufus said, chuckling. “The man is fearless. He will attempt anything, take any risk, just to confound his enemies,” Marcus said. “I wouldn’t want to be a ranker in the Eighth right now. Those boys are going to do some serious digging. In fact, that is how Caesar will keep them from freezing to death, dig-dig, then dig some more,” Claudius said. “Claudius, you haven’t told us how your meeting with Caesar went. We do know you had a private audience, and rumor has it that you were given some kind of award. Tell us what happened?” Claudius went to his personal storage chest and produced the small wooden box Caesar had given him. He opened it and handed it to Rufus, who examined it and then handed it to Marcus. Marcus whistled and said, “Claudius, this is a gold armillae, you know it is a great honor, don’t you?” “Yes Marcus, I know. Caesar said he wanted to present it to me in front of the entire Tenth Legion, but due to the on-going secrecy of my mission, he chose to present it privately. The mission is still classified as secret so I am charging you two to keep whatever we say secret, agreed?” Both men nodded their agreement. “I noticed you have been wearing your family ring, did you tell him everything about your experiences, with the Pictones, and even before your joining the legion Claudius?” Rufus said. “I knew you would eventually ask me that question father. I told him my entire life’s story. My adoptive father Vero, you and my mother, Drusus, my love for Darcia, all of it. I held nothing back.” “What did he say, especially about Darcia?” Claudius related every detail of his conversation, with Caesar, to the two men. When he had finished, Marcus whistled again. “Claudius, do you realize what you just said and what Caesar is offering you? With your patrician heritage, your war record, and being a senator, you could run for consul. You, a Centurion in the Tenth Legion, could be consul of Rome. It boggles ones mind to even think of it,” Marcus said. “You would give all of this up to return to Darcia and the land of the Pictones, wouldn’t you Claudius,” Rufus stated bluntly rather than asking. “Yes,” Claudius replied, emphatically, with no hesitation. “You love her just as I loved Portia and as Rufus loved your mother Claudius. The answer you just gave, confirms this to me,” Marcus said. “And to me,” Rufus added. “What am I to do? You both see the dilemma I face. Caesar is right, I am a soldier, and I was lost in being a soldier. I basked in the glory that it afforded me but what of the glory. It is only the recognition that I can stick a sword into someone better than most. When I am alone with my thoughts, I can see and hear the cries of those I have slain. This mission to the Pictones was not of my choosing, and at first I was caught up in the excitement of it; but it also showed me another way, a way that didn’t involve killing and glory. I saw how it was to exist in love, trust, friendship and cooperation. Use your life to build and achieve rather than deal death and destruction.”

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Rufus and Marcus remained silent, each man thoughtful and reflective of Claudius’ passionate words. Rufus was the one to break the silence. “You have spoken what is in your heart Claudius. You are now at a crossroad in your life. Each path somehow conflicts with the other. Your dilemma, is understandable. The path you pick must be the one that makes you the happiest, for the rest of your life, because, it is the rest of your life you are talking about here. The Gods will guide you son, be looking for the sign, it will come.” The two legions based at Samarobriva, prepared to march. The rumors flew but Septimus informed his friends about what was actually happening. The Tenth and Seventh were to break camp and march south to Agedincum, follow the east bank of the Sequanna and join up with the Thirteenth at Bibracte. From there, the three combined legions would proceed, under forced march, to Gergovia. Caesar, along with six legions, would be mere days behind them. Should their advanced force be attacked, the three legions would have to hold until Caesar could reinforce them. Word came down that the Gallic force, assembled at Gergovia, was far from complete. The spies reported that there was much squabbling among the tribes as to, who was going to command all the factions, what the cavalry deployment was going to be and even how to feed the masses converging on the city. Confusion reigned, which was exactly what Caesar wanted to happen. The Gauls had no idea where Caesar was and knew nothing about the extra legion he had assembled, or that he was leading six full legions, to reinforce the three, and lead a total of nine legions against them. Caesar’s plan was to reduce that growing force in Gergovia before it ever got a chance to be established. If it were allowed to grow to the numbers estimated, it could, if led properly, overwhelm the Romans by sheer weight of numbers. The only good thing happening was the weather. It had greatly improved to the warm days and cool nights of spring. The roads had begun to dry out making marching easier and faster. The three legions made the forty-five mile trek from Bibracte to Gergovia in three days, with time to spare. Caesar, as expected, hadn’t arrived yet. The three legions went into a fortified camp and waited. The hills surrounding the camp were swarming with Gallic warriors. They sat, by the thousands, jeering, while the Romans nervously built their camp, looking over their shoulders as they dug. When the last shovel-full had been dug and the last stockade stake put in place, everyone breathed a measured sigh of relief. The three generals, Piso, in command of the Thirteenth, Cassius, in command of the Seventh and Favonius in temporary command of the Tenth, knew they were in a very precarious position. They also knew that the Gauls probably wouldn’t attack until they agreed upon a leader. To garner some intelligence about what was going on in Gergovia, the legates of the three legions, decided to call a joint conference. There were enough friendly tribes, in the area, to at least get an opinion on what was happening. The congress was to take place two days hence. Mounted envoys were sent to the surrounding tribes to carry the invitation. In the span of one day, all attending tribes were informed and were in fact, on their way to the meeting site. Four tribes had agreed to send representatives.

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Well after dark, on the night before the conference was to take place, Claudius was mysteriously summoned to Piso’s command tent. When Claudius presented himself, the general warmly greeted him. “Claudius my boy, how good it is to see you again. I didn’t think it would be this soon, but here we are. Did you tell anyone you were coming here Claudius,” Piso said, returning Claudius’ salute? “No sir, I didn’t. The messenger made it quite clear that I was to come straight here and say nothing to anyone.” “Good, good, yes that is exactly what I wanted. Now, I imagine you are wondering why I sent for you. You know about the conference tomorrow?’ “Yes sir, I do. Word of occurrences like that gets around very quickly especially considering the dangerous situation we’re in.” “You are quite correct my boy, we are in a very dangerous situation. I want you to attend the conference Claudius. I am hoping, with your knowledge of the language, that you may be able to gather some intelligence by listening to the envoys converse among themselves. You know how they talk in their own language, in front of us, thinking we don’t understand what they are saying. I want to turn the tables on them. Does anyone know you have the ability to speak and understand the Gallic tongue?’ “Yes sir several people know but they are sworn to secrecy. Caesar instructed me to keep that information a closely guarded secret and I have. Only a few know of my ability.” “Excellent Claudius, excellent. Now, do you think you can eavesdrop?” “Yes sir, I think I can but please keep in mind, I am only fluent in Veneti and Pictone, which are similar. As far as the other tribal languages are concerned, I can only pick out certain words. If a Gaul speaks quickly, in his native dialect, I may not be able to understand any of it.” “I see Claudius. Well, we will make the best of what you can do. It will be better than nothing. Now, how can we do this without being obvious? If these heathens think we are listening, they will go silent in a heartbeat, or worse, mislead us, if they are really clever.” Claudius thought for a moment, and then said, “Will there be sentries posted at the entryways sir?” “Why yes, there always is, why?” “I can pose as a sentry. No one notices a sentry, they are invisible.” “Excellent idea Claudius. We can borrow what clothing we need from one of our rankers and dress you as an ordinary soldier. There is one question. How do we get you close enough to overhear what they say, sentries are always posted near the entrances.” “That’s easy sir. Have more than one entry and I will position myself closest to whichever one the Gauls choose.” “Excellent idea Claudius. So it shall be done. All this intrigue is exciting, don’t you think?” “Yes sir, quite exciting,” Claudius said. The convocation of the Romans and the friendly tribes occurred at the ninth hour of the next day. The combined contingents of personnel resulted in a large number of people. Some envoys knew the Roman tongue; those that didn’t had interpreters with

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them. The conference tent was nearly full. Piso, being the most senior of the Romans present, chaired the meeting and when all parties were settled, called the meeting to order. Piso presented each tribe and its envoy, from the Aedui, Epidomorus, from the Ruteni, Salsulinus, from the Vocontii, Bratreus and from the Galbali, Mercellanix. All the envoys were resplendent in their ceremonial garb of his particular tribe. The first news was, it was now official. The assembly of the tribes, at Gergovia, had chosen Vercingetorix as their new commander and king. The consensus of the envoys, present at this meeting was, they would continue to support the Roman presence and risk the aftermath of vengeance and reprisal that would surely be heaped upon them, should Vercingetorix subdue the Romans and drive them out of Gaul. The friendly tribes would also continue to help the Romans with a meager supply of food. There would be no military assistance of any kind except for the Aedui. They would furnish the Romans with troops and cavalry. Claudius heard all that was said and committed what he heard to memory, as best he could. That night, after the meeting of the tribes had concluded, Claudius was again summoned to Piso’s quarters. As he entered the tent and made his customary salute, he was surprised to see Caesar sitting at the table with Piso. Claudius saluted smartly and said,” Caesar, this is a surprise. I thought you were still days away?” “That is exactly what I want everyone to think Claudius. Six legions are sitting in a fortified camp ten miles from here on the east bank of the Elaver. My boys gave me fifty miles per day. We chopped two days off our expected arrival date. As you can see, even with the three legions here and the six I brought, we are still badly outnumbered, four to one and enemy warriors are still arriving, even as we speak. Tell me Claudius, did you hear anything yesterday that caused you to be suspicious, anything at all,” Caesar said? “There was only one thing Caesar. It seemed strange at the time. It was the only thing that stood out. I’m not absolutely sure but I believe the Aeduan translator didn’t translate everything his envoy said, when he was addressing the legates.” “ Edipol, I knew it. Claudius, this is critical. Tell me exactly what the translator forgot to add, word for word,” Caesar said excitedly. “Well it doesn’t make sense to me Caesar, perhaps it will make sense to you. The words that were not passed on were ‘Let Caesar eat excuses’. The translator never added those words to complete the sentence that the Aeduan envoy originally said. Maybe I misunderstood,” Claudius said. “Tell me the complete phrase Claudius.” “The entire phrase, spoken by Epidomorus the Aeduan envoy was, ‘The Aeduan people will never let our Roman friends go hungry, Caesar can eat our excuses,’ the legates never heard the last five words because the translator never completed the translation,” Claudius said. Caesar jumped up and slammed his fist down on the table causing the candleholders to jump. “By the Gods, we are betrayed. The Aedui were supposed to keep our army supplied with food, continuously. Their supply trains are always late or don’t appear at all. They always have excuses as to why this occurs. Don’t you see, this innocent comment is insolence? They are thumbing their noses at us; the supplies will

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never come. The Aedui will go over to Vercingetorix. He will get our food and we will starve. The Aedui, I was a fool to trust them,” Caesar spat. “We will have our day of reckoning, the Aedui and I,” Caesar said, with more bitter malice than Claudius had ever seen the man display. “Piso, the Aeduan army and cavalry is camped on your doorstep, not more than a mile from this spot. You will immediately alert the other two legions. I suspect, at dawn the Aedui and Vercingetorix will attack you simultaneously, the Aedui from near your camp and Vercingetorix from the gates of Gergovia. Our spies say he has eighty thousand troops inside the city. You must strike first. Split your forces and attack the Aedui before first light and try to bottle-up Vercingetorix inside the city as best you can. I will get back as soon as possible, with the other six legions. Until then, you must hold my friend. Do you understand Piso, you must hold!” “Yes Caesar, it will be as you wish. We will hold, have no fear.” With that Caesar rushed from the command tent calling for his horse and his escort. They were galloping off at full speed as Claudius made his way back to his own billet. “Marcus, Marcus, wake up, we are going to war,” Claudius said, shaking his friend awake none to gently. ”Claudius, wh-what is going on, have you lost your mind? It’s the middle of the night.” Claudius shook Marcus again to make sure he was fully awake. “No Marcus, I haven’t lost my mind but you must listen to me very carefully. We must rally the ‘Wolf Pack’. We will be going on the attack very shortly so there isn’t much time. Here is the truth of it. In case you hadn’t noticed, we are surrounded by Gauls. We are outnumbered four, perhaps five to one. Caesar has ordered an immediate attack against the Aedui, our purported allies. He had hoped to negotiate a truce with Vercingetorix, to avoid war, but we have been betrayed by the Aedui. We must attack or be annihilated. “This is incredible Claudius. They were our friends and allies. What a turn of events. “No time to explain what I just learned. I will fill you in on the details later. I have a bad feeling about this situation Marcus. Before the shit flies, there is something I need to do and I need your help in doing it, right now.” “What is it Claudius, what do you want to do?” “I want to release the little son of Aphrodite into the wild and I want to do it immediately. I need your guidance in this, and I need to know, will I be endangering his life if I release him. Will the little horse survive?” “Claudius, this is very strange. There are forces at work here that only the Gods can explain. For the last two nights, the wild sire, of the little black colt, has been seen outside the walls of the camp. He comes near dusk, prances around, whinnies a few times, and then gallops off. The sentries have been fascinated watching him perform. I was going to tell you about it but I haven’t had the chance. Do you think this occurrence is somehow connected to your feelings?” “I don’t know Marcus, it could be. I don’t want Aphrodite’s son to be taken by the Gauls. I want him to be free to do as he pleases. I can never truly be free, but he can.” Marcus paused for a brief moment then a smile came over his face and he was grinning from ear to ear, in the dim light of the tent. “Lets do it Claudius, lets release him.

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He is your horse you can do whatever you wish with him. He will be all right. His father will pick him up. I’m sure there is a wild herd waiting out there in the hills somewhere.” “Quickly Marcus, let’s run. We don’t have much time.” It would normally have been a strange sight to see two men running towards the stables, in the middle of the night, but on this night, as the legions prepared for battle, the level of such activity was already accelerated. They were not challenged. The little black colt was in his stall and he nickered when he caught Marcus’ familiar scent. They led him out of the corral and ran toward the eastern gate of the camp. This gate was heavily guarded and they were stopped and questioned. It took a while to convince the gate sentries to open the gate but they agreed when Claudius told them who he was and the reason behind his strange request. Marcus stripped the bridle off the little horse and gave him a last hug, his eyes full of tears. Claudius also gave the colt a last hug and said, “I now name you Pegasus, little one. Go, run with the Gods and be free,” he said, slapping the horse on the rump. The beautiful little black colt, with the white blaze face, ran a ways from the gate, stopped, looked back once, then turned and galloped off toward the hills, his black coat melding into the darkness. The north gate of the Roman camp faced the south side of the walled city of Gergovia, at about two miles distant. The plan was to seal and heavily fortify the north and east gates, of the camp against attack. If the need arose, those sealed gates could be opened to allow any hard-pressed troops a refuge to retreat to. On attack, the three legions would deploy simultaneously. The Tenth would issue out from the western gate of the camp and head to engage Vercingetorix as his forces exited the city’s main gate. At the same time, the Twelfth and the Seventh would deploy from the south gate of the Roman camp, make a sharp left turn and attack the Aedui, while the enemy was still inside their camp. Once both Roman forces had each engaged their objective, they would try to drive Vercingetorix and the Aedui into each other. The area would become so congested with Gallic troops, they would have no room to maneuver and the Romans could then cut them down. If all went as planned, Caesar would then arrive, with six legions, roll up the Aedui and drive Vercingetorix back into the city where he could easily be sealed-up and starved into submission. In war, as in life, plans often go awry, which is exactly what happened to the Romans on this particular day. Claudius and Marcus rode at the head of the ‘Wolf Pack’, which was to lend support wherever they were needed. The two cohorts of Tenth Legion cavalry, which brought up the rear of the column behind Tenth Legion foot, would directly support the legion and protect its rear. The “Wolf Pack” had already been marshaled; a distance away, to await orders, to support after the cavalry and foot soldiers had made contact with the enemy. The mounted riders could see and hear the loud crash when the Tenth collided with Vercingetorix’s army, as it exited the city gates The fighting was fierce and confusion reigned. The Gauls were swarming around the Roman maniples trying to divide them. The Gauls from the city were pouring through the gates and massing. The Tenth Legion seemed to be holding its own, what the Romans didn’t know was that they were slowly being surrounded. Suddenly a mounted messenger rode up to Claudius and Marcus, breathless. He saluted the two commanders and then

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relayed the orders. “Sir, Favonius is hard pressed. The Gauls are getting through the city gates to quickly. He instructed me to tell you to attack the enemy column, exiting the city, on its right flank. He wants you to hit and run as the enemy exits the gate. He wants you to try to cause a jam-up to slow their exit speed.” “Is that all soldier,” Claudius said. “Yes sir, that’s the entire message. Is there a reply sir,” The messenger asked. “You may tell the general that we will do our best. You are dismissed.” Claudius looked at Marcus gave him a hand signal and turned to the “Wolf Pack”, now four hundred riders strong. “Hit and run ‘Wolves’, you know what to do, follow me.” The ‘Pack’ wheeled left one-half mile, to gain room to maneuver, and charged, howling like wolves, toward the city gate. When they were at the appropriate distance, a front line of twenty across, they let fly with a barrage of arrows, into the ranks of the Gauls streaming out of the city gates. The first wave then wheeled right, to allow the second wave to launch their arrows and prepared to come around for another attack. Twenty waves passed and launched their missiles, each with deadly effect. As the first wave came around for their second pass, Claudius could see the dead and wounded starting to pile up. The Gauls were franticly trying to cast the dead aside, to clear a pathway, and shield themselves from the deadly accuracy of the Roman missiles. Panic set in as the beleaguered warriors collided with the outflow of warriors from the city gates. The Gauls milled around not knowing which way to turn. The waves of howling “Wolves” continued their attack. The Aeduan army, facing the Twelfth and Seventh, had not fallen into the trap Piso had set for them. They had seen it coming and positioned their forces in such a manner that they were able to use the Roman camp, outer bulwark, as a barrier to keep from being divided and encircled. The Roman advance was stalled and their right flank was being effectively reduced by harassment from the Aeduan cavalry. The two legions had no cavalry to oppose them leaving the Roman foot to engage the mounted warriors as best they could. The situation was not good and was deteriorating rapidly. Where were Caesar and the six legions? Vercingetorix, on the other front was faring quite well against the Tenth. Even though the “Wolf Pack” had considerably slowed the outflow of warriors from the city gates, enough men were getting through to vastly outnumber the hard-pressed Tenth, if not for the Roman cavalry, holding the Gauls somewhat at bay, the Roman foot would have been overwhelmed. As it was, they were barely holding on. The Gauls were fighting fiercely, climbing over their fallen comrades to engage the Romans. The expertise of the Roman centurions now proved its worth. They waited for just the right moment then ordered a shoulder to shield push forcing the Gauls back against their fallen comrades. This tactic was keeping the Romans in the contest, but their numbers were slowly being reduced. The dead Gauls numbered in the thousands, but still they came. “If Caesar doesn’t come soon, we are finished,” Favonius was heard to say. Claudius wheeled the first wave of twenty for another sortie against the Gauls still streaming out of the city. As they neared the launch point to loose the last of their arrows, Claudius felt the brush of wind as an arrow whizzed by his head, immediately followed by several more. Suddenly two of his riders were down, their saddles empty. He frantically craned his neck around to see where the arrows were coming from and what

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he saw made his blood run cold. They were under attack by a large force of enemy cavalry, moving against their left flank. They must have circled the entire city last night, to take us by surprise, Claudius thought. They must be Aeduan and they must have been on the march since midnight to be able to cover so great a distance by now. It was a brilliant maneuver, one never anticipated by the Roman commanders. So much for the enemy not being intelligent Claudius mused. He also observed that there were foot soldiers embedded amongst the mounted riders. Some were archers, which would account for the arrows. There were also slingers. Claudius no sooner realized this than a small, three-pronged metal spike thudded into his horse’s neck, causing the animal to rear almost expelling Claudius from the saddle. When the horse settled down, Claudius plucked the spike from the horse’s neck and threw it to the ground. The Aeduan cavalry was advancing at a walk, so as not to outdistance the archers and slingers but they were advancing and there was nothing to stop them except the ‘Wolf Pack’. Marcus, Marcus, do you see what we are facing,” Claudius shouted, as loud as he could? “I see Claudius, I see. We must retreat or we will be rolled up. We are losing men rapidly.” Claudius wasted no time. He stood up in his booster rings and gave the swordcircling signal for retreat, shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard above the din of battle. Not all of the ‘Wolves’ got the signal, but enough did to indicate, to the others, what to do. What was left of the ‘Pack’ galloped off reluctantly leaving many of their dead and wounded comrades behind. Reduced by as much as one third, the crippled ‘Wolves’ marshaled their remaining force off at a safe distance to decide what to do. “Quickly Marcus, we will dismount and fight on foot our horses cannot endure another assault like that and we cannot let that contingent of cavalry go unchallenged. We will assault them with shield and spear. Maintain our twenty front and only come within launch proximity. When all of our missiles have been discharged, we will engage them with our swords.” “Did everyone get the order,” Marcus shouted? A resounding “Yes sir”, came from those that were left. “Very well, dismount, shields and spears, at a run, forward,” Marcus shouted. He and Claudius led the charge. “Howl you wolves, let them know who they have challenged.” As the horses were marshaled away, the “Wolf Pack” attacked the advancing cavalry mix. At one hundred paces the first rank launched their spears, then the second rank launched as well. By the time the “Wolves” reached the Aeduan cavalry, their swords were out and their shields were up. They met the enemy with a thundering crash of shield against shield. The slinger’s and archer’s weapons were now ineffective, at close in fighting, and the rearing horses, many of them wounded by spears, reared-up or fell, causing the methodical advance of the enemy cavalry to stall. The smell of death was strong. It assaulted Claudius’ senses. The “Wolf Pack” had deployed across a broad front, to keep from being surrounded. They had lost no ground but they had gained none either. The fighting on foot choice had nullified the archers and slingers, but the large contingent of cavalry, after it recovered from the initial spear attack, was now slowly advancing and methodically thinning the ranks of the “Wolf Pack”. Suddenly with no warning, Claudius could sense pressure from their right. He could see an enemy warrior trying to rally a force from those still streaming out of the

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city. The swarm had now slowed to a steady flow, of two or three abreast, and they were rallying to this lone leader. Claudius had a flashback to the “Great Tree” and thought, here is another who knows how to rally his troops. The force being assembled far outnumbered the “Wolf Pack”. Claudius knew, if this force closed on their right flank, they would be isolated and effectively cut-off from any assistance by the Tenth and most certainly annihilated. “We must give ground Marcus, look to our right.” Marcus did as Claudius asked and a look of extreme concern crossed his face. “Give ground slowly ’Wolves’, to the rear. Make them pay dearly for any ground they take,” Marcus thundered, as they slowly retreated. The Aeduan cavalry, seeing their advantage, pressed their advance. Suddenly Claudius couldn’t see Marcus anymore. He could hear him shouting encouragement, to the men, but there were too many horses between them now and Claudius was trying desperately to stay alive. “Fall back toward the river on our left, double time,” he shouted, pumping his sword arm in a prearranged signal. He didn’t have to shout the order a second time, the men ran for the riverbank. Claudius didn’t like giving the order but it was the only open ground available to make a last stand. He knew it was going to be, a last stand. Then he had a thought, he retrieved his marshalling whistle and blew it with all his might. Suddenly, there they were, the horses of the “Wolf Pack”, galloping to rejoin their riders in well-trained response to the familiar signal. Claudius and those riders still alive, mounted horses. Marcus was nowhere to be seen. Claudius took a quick survey of the battlefield. He counted twelve of his riders. If he charged the cavalry he would be overwhelmed in an instant. If he charged the foot soldiers they could possibly break through, but to what. The field was so littered with the bodies of men and animals, they would surely stumble and once down, the foot would make short work of them. While fighting and thinking, his tiny army was being driven toward the riverbank. Claudius could see their numbers quickly thinning. The Aeduan cavalry, were using their long spears to pick them off, one or two at a time. Their number was down to six. Claudius could see the battle raging, off to the east, where a great cloud of dust hung over the field and the noise was deafening. Fatigue was now setting in. Horses and men were tiring rapidly. Suddenly Claudius’ horse reared up, a spear protruding from its chest. He hadn’t even seen the warrior who threw it. He could feel the horse dying under him. He had to push off his right booster ring to free himself from the falling animal or risk being trapped under it. He hit the ground at the same instant the horse did, and by instinct, he rolled, as several spears pierced the ground where he had lain an instant before. That instinctive reaction saved his life. He was on his feet now, fighting desperately, his sword doing its deadly work, his right arm and much of his body covered in blood and gore. There were enemy were all around him now, beginning to inflict small wounds, waiting for that decisive stroke that would put him down. Then he heard it, a bugle blast and the sound and vibration of hundreds of feet and hooves tramping the earth, raising an enormous dust cloud and moving toward them. His assailants heard it too and paused in their attack, and looked nervously over their shoulders.

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Suddenly, there they were, Roman cavalry and fresh Roman troops, wading into the masses of enemy, driving them back, striking them down, and bowling them over like a scythe to the wheat. He knelt on one knee to rest and catch his breath and thank the Gods that Caesar had at last arrived. The battle raged around him and all he had the strength to do was, watch. The action was shifting back toward the very gate the Gauls had been streaming from, and now that the momentum of the battle favored the Romans, the undisciplined horde was trying to get back into the city. Only the strong made it back inside. The dead and wounded were trampled over and left to their fate. Claudius watched as the two huge city gates closed with a loud clanging thud. The pursuing Roman cavalry was now assailed with arrows and missiles raining down from the city walls. With their shields over their heads, the Roman cavalry troop, that had unknowingly saved Claudius’ life, rode of to attack a less risky target. As so often happens on a battlefield, all became eerily quiet. He could hear the sounds of battle, off to the east and he could see the resultant dust cloud from it, but, in his immediate area, all was still. He looked around, and to the best of his knowledge, he was the only Roman soldier standing. There were several horses nudging their dead riders or aimlessly wandering, otherwise, all was still. There was a warm fresh breeze blowing in off the river. Claudius took a moment to take in a deep breath of it. He looked at the carnage around him and it sickened him and repulsed him. So much death, so much suffering, so many that would never come home to their wives, their children, and for what, the glory of Rome? There is no glory in this, he thought. Walking around, somewhat dazed, he was able to recognize some of his men. To his right lay Lucius, the one man who was nearly his equal with the sword. Then he spotted Herilitus, who lay across his dead horse, an arrow protruding from his throat, the marshalling whistle still in his lips. He knelt again, his head in his hands and wept. The “Wolf Pack” wiped out in a single encounter. He had sensed a bad feeling before the battle. He never imagined it would be this bad. He wept again. After time passed, he regained some composure and decided to try to make the Roman camp before dark. He knew if he were encountered by a Gallic patrol or a group of enemy stragglers, in his wounded and weakened state, he would stand no chance against them. He picked up his sword and sheathed it, gathered his shield and helmet and set off. He tried to utilize as much natural cover as he could while heading steadily east. The position of the sun told him that nightfall wasn’t far off so he tried to move as fast as his beaten body would allow. He saw another group of prone warriors up ahead. As he drew near, he noticed their unique headwear and realized they were “Wolves”. He thought of Marcus and his small band of men. Had they survived? He stopped at each prone body to see if there was any sign of life. He found Bratius, Crispus and Fulvius, all were dead, and then he saw the body of Thunder. Several arrows protruded from the great horse’s body and it was evident, Thunder would never rise again.

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Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement off to his right. It was difficult to see, as light was rapidly fading. There, yes it was, someone had moved. He went toward the fallen soldier. He was wearing a centurion’s helmet. His facial features were badly mauled, an arrow protruded from his side, there was no doubt, it was Marcus, and, he was still alive. Claudius ran to his stricken friend and, in the darkness, tripped over the body of a dead Gaul, the hilt of Marcus’ sword protruding his chest. “Oh Marcus, my friend, my brother, what have they done to you?” Claudius said. As he knelt, an icy chill gripped his heart. His friend, his brother, was dying. Claudius, Claudius, is that you,” Marcus said, coughing up a bloody mist? “Praise the Gods you are still alive. Can’t breathe to well, this damn arrow is a nuisance. Can’t see you to well either, a lot of blood in my eyes.” Claudius removed his friend’s helmet trying to make him a little more comfortable, and then took Marcus’ hand in his. “You are going to be fine Marcus. The surgeons will stitch you back together and we will soon be trading war stories over a cup of wine.” “I don’t think so Claud, not this time. You don’t mind if I call you Claud, do you, my brother?” “That’s what Darcia used to call me Marcus, and no, I don’t mind.” “I can see Portia Claudius, she is there. She is holding my son in her arms, they’re beckoning to me. I must go to her soon, but, before I go, she told me to do something for you.” “What, what did she tell you Marcus,” Claudius said, unable to hold back his sobs. “She told me to become you. She said to tell you that this is your chance to be free. My body will become you Claudius, they will never know. I-I, must go now Claudius, I can feel her hand in mine, I have to go with her, goodbye my brother. I love you. I promise, we will name our son after you.” With those words, Marcus closed his eyes and smiled the smile of a man in love and at peace. He held Marcus in his arms for a long time. Darkness had fallen and all he could hear was the river, tumbling by, on its way south, away from the horror of war and all the dreadful things that come with it. He didn’t know if Rome won the day, or not, and he didn’t care. He wished he could go south with the river, flow with the rushing water. Be purified and cleansed by it as if this war had never happened. Then, like a flash of lightening, in his brain, he realized he could. That’s what Marcus was talking about. He has given me my life. He can become me. There was a half moon, just enough light to see by, Claudius’ mind raced. He took off Marcus’ cuirass and replaced it with his. He took off Marcus’ wolf fang token and replaced it with his own silver trimmed one, carefully tucking it back inside the tunic. He took his family ring, the one given him by his father, Quintus Vero, and placed it on Marcus’ finger, fourth finger left hand, just as he had recently worn it. He walked over to the dead Gaul and pulled Marcus sword from his chest. He drew his own sword, read the inscription once more, smiled then plunged his sword into the Gaul in exactly the same spot Marcus’ sword had recently occupied. With the exception of those personal things,

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he and Marcus had been dressed exactly alike, just as centurions, in Caesar’s Tenth Legion, should be. He gathered up his helmet, shed all his military trappings, piled it all on top of his shield and carried the bundle down to the river. One by one, he threw the pieces into the river, casting them out as far as he could, keeping only Marcus’ sword and his own scabbard to carry it. He then went back to where Marcus lay and took his friend’s hand into his own and kissed it and thought silently, “The debt is repaid my friend. I once saved your life, now you have saved mine. I truly know what the inscription on my sword meant Marcus. It chronicled my life as I have lived it. It delivered death. Its use allowed me to save a people I love and give them life and now as I say goodbye, to you my dearest friend, I know where to go to find peace. Rest well my brother, for you too have now found peace. He rose, gave Marcus a crisp military salute and walked off, into the night, headed south along the riverbank toward Verdueen and the land of the Pictones.

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Chapter XVI Coming Home The aftermath of a battle, at least for the Romans, was never a pleasant event. It involved determining the number of men lost, and who they were. The Romans were very meticulous about this. The battle, as a whole, was considered a draw. Vercingetorix had escaped, along with forty thousand of his warriors. The spies said they had gone to ground in Alesia, there to be joined by a final army, composed of those northern tribes, committed to expelling the Romans from Gaul. The force heading to Alesia, to meet-up with Vercingetorix, was said to number greater than two hundred thousand men. Many tribes had abstained from the unification movement and now they waited to see the outcome of the looming battle. If Vercingetorix won he would punish them for their lack of patriotism. If Caesar won they would enjoy the status of friends and allies of Rome, favored by the conqueror. Alesia was thought, to be the determining factor and would be the battle to end all battles. It would determine the future of all of Gaul. The city was said to be impregnable. Built on a cliff with sheer drops all around, with an independent, abundant and untouchable water supply, the Gauls felt ready for anything the Romans could throw at them. Of course, they underestimated Caesar. The Gauls had surrendered Gergovia and the Romans enjoyed the benefits of a plentiful food supply, for the first time in months. The Romans had also suffered greatly at Gergovia. The Tenth, Seventh and Twelfth had each lost a significant number of men, but what had upset Caesar the most was the loss of the ‘Wolf Pack’ and eighty centurions, his boys, the backbone of his army, had been dealt a serious blow. Caesar had settled the score with the treacherous Aedui. Most of the tribe’s warriors and all of its cavalry had been wiped out. Two thousand cavalry and fifteen thousand troops had perished. Caesar had shown them no mercy and taken no prisoners. Any male of Aeduan descent was put to death. All Aeduan women and children were sold into slavery, and in the days following the battle, the slavers, that followed the legions, did a brisk business. Caesar called a halt to all campaigning. The Romans needed time to re-group, lick their wounds and prepare for the coming battle at Alesia. Comments made at the afterbattle strategy meetings, suggested that, had Vercingetorix assembled his army outside the city, before the actual battle took place, rather than try to exit the city, to participate in it, the Gauls could have routed the three Roman legions before Caesar even arrived on the scene. Caesar’s luck had held. As bad as it was, it could have been much worse. It was also said that the “Wolf Pack” had been the sole reason for the Tenth’s survival. Without their harassing tactics, which delayed a full and complete massing of the forces from inside the city, the Tenth would have been completely annihilated. Unfortunately, none of the “Wolf Pack” survived. Caesar did hold a brief assembly of the Tenth Legion to honor the bravery of the “Wolf Pack”. Each man was awarded a Corona Civica, posthumously, for having saved an entire legion, the self same award Caesar had been awarded, years before, at the battle of Mytilene on the isle of Lesbos. The fifth day after the battle of Gergovia, Caesar was in his command tent, in the legion camp on the banks of the Elaver River. “You sent for me Caesar,” Rufus said, as he entered the command tent and saluted his general.

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“Yes Rufus I did, come in please, have a chair. I-I don’t quite know how to say this and for lack of a better way, I will be forthright with you. We have found your son Claudius’ body. Apparently, the action of the battle took his troop far from the city gate, that he was assaulting, and we have been retrieving and identifying members of the ‘Wolf Pack’ for several days now. There are no survivors Rufus. We can’t even find any of their horses. Some of course are dead and if any lived, they probably have run off into the hills. I have patrols out looking but there isn’t much hope. If you approve, I want to give Claudius a Roman nobleman’s burial, complete with ceremony and funeral pyre. I know the story of his life and your true relationship to him, but in retrospect, he is the legitimate son and heir of a Roman senator. A proper burial is warranted. “Yes Caesar, I agree. I think it is fitting. After all, he truly was the son of a Roman senator,” Rufus said, choking back sobs. “Would you like to see him Rufus, perhaps take some time, alone with him, to say your goodbyes, before the ceremony?” “Yes Caesar, I would.” “Come, we will go together. I want to pay my respects to him also. He was an exceptional soldier Rufus. I had great plans for him. Did he ever mention them to you?” “He did Caesar. He told me you wanted to restore him, and the Vero family name, to prominence, in Rome, once again, and even make him a senator. You honor me by so honoring him, I thank you with all sincerity.” “It is only what he deserves Rufus, I assure you. Ah, here we are. I must warn you, we have bathed him and restored all of his clothing and equipment to prepare him for burial; however, he was badly wounded around his face and head. We did the best we could. I will give you a few moments then I will join you to grieve.” Rufus just nodded to Caesar and entered the tent. Rufus, believed Claudius to be dead, long before this moment, and he had shed tears for days after the battle was over when news of Claudius was not forthcoming. He thought his tears had dried up until he saw, what he thought was his son, then the tears flowed anew, springing to his eyes from untapped pools of grief. As he approached the bier, where Claudius supposedly lay, he slowly smiled and almost burst out laughing, with joy. He at once realized that it was really Marcus lying there and some of his sorrow returned; for he had truly loved his son’s friend and keenly felt the grief of his passing. He had to look again, closely, to be sure, then he was satisfied. It wasn’t Claudius. They certainly do look alike, he thought, and in that instant, seeing the Vero ring, the unique sword and the silver clad wolf fang, he knew what Claudius had done and where he had gone. The Gods showed him the way and he took it. A small smile again spread over Rufus’ face. I must show no joy when Caesar comes in. I must act as a grief stricken father would act. He shrugged, took a deep breath and prepared himself for the test. “You may come in now Caesar, if you like,” Rufus said, having purposely not removed the genuine tears from his eyes. “Behold my son Caesar.” Caesar approached the bier and he too paused and shed a tear. “I loved him as a son Rufus. He was a fine warrior and he had a warrior’s death. They found his sword

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buried in the chest of a dead Gaul, perhaps even the same man who disfigured him. There were dead Gauls lying all around him. Those heathens paid dearly for taking his life.” Rufus stood with his eyes downcast, not daring to look directly at Caesar, lest he betray Claudius’ secret. He reached over and took the Vero ring off Marcus’ finger and handed it to Caesar. “I know Claudius would have wanted you to have this Caesar. He told me it had deep significance for you and perhaps it can be something for you to remember him by.” “I-I, am speechless Rufus. Are you sure about this? I don’t know what to say except that you truly honor me with this gift.” “It would also be an honor to me and to Claudius’ memory for you to have it. Please accept it.” Caesar took the ring and placed it on his own finger. “Many thanks Rufus. What a wonderful gift. I will treasure it always and I will think of Claudius and of my own father whenever I gaze upon it.” An awkward silence ensued and then Rufus spoke. “Caesar, I have a question, if you don’t mind my asking.” “I will answer if it is within my power Rufus, what is it?” “You have stated that none of the ‘Wolf Pack’ survived. I was wondering if there had been any word concerning Marcus, has his body been found?” “No, we haven’t found Marcus’ body yet Rufus. We are still looking. There are fourteen members of the ‘Wolf Pack’ still unaccounted for. We have recovered all of the others and identified them. It was said that there was heavy action on the riverbank south of the city, where some members of the ‘Pack’ were surrounded by enemy warriors. It is conceivable that those missing ‘Wolves’ were driven into the river to be swept away or perhaps the Gauls threw their bodies into the river to appease their Gods. I guess we will never know for certain. We will keep looking for a while longer, at least until we march for Alesia, but I don’t hold much hope of finding Marcus or the other missing ‘Wolves’.” “I am saddened by the news Caesar. Marcus was Claudius’ best friend and a good friend of mine as well. He was also an excellent soldier and leader. He knew more about horses than any man I ever knew.” “It is a pity. I lost to many of my boys in this battle Rufus. It will take a long time to replace them and men like Claudius and Marcus are irreplaceable, I fear. Now, I must re-ask you a question to make sure you approve. Do you still agree with the funeral plans I have made for Mar.., I mean Claudius. Forgive me Rufus, I must have had Marcus in my thoughts, having so recently spoken of him. I meant to say plans for Claudius,” Caesar said, with a peculiar gleam in his eye. “Yes Caesar, the plans you spoke of would honor a great warrior such as my son, a man who served you so valiantly and so well. I agree wholeheartedly,” Rufus said, for he correctly guessed that a man as astute as Caesar was now well aware of the switch that had taken place. “Excellent Rufus I will give the order and the rites will take place tomorrow at sunset. However, now that I have your ear, come, walk with me for a ways. There is another matter I would like to discuss with you. It concerns my gladiatorial schools. I have two you know, with literally thousands of students. One is in Ariminum the other is in Capua. I desperately need someone to oversee the management of those schools. Claudius once said you were a trained gladiator and had even fought in the arenas of

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Rome. I am not going to re-form the ‘Wolf Pack’ again, there is no time to do it adequately, so that would free you up for other duties. What say you, to taking the job of managing those two schools, I mentioned? I will pay you well. You will be secure for the rest of your life. We both know Claudius’ spirit is now in Elysium or wherever else in Gaul it wants to be. What say you Rufus?” Caesar said, putting his arm over Rufus’ shoulder and giving him a wink as they walked. “Before I make my decision Caesar, I have a question.” “What would that be Rufus?” “I couldn’t help but wonder at your offer. Is it really an offer that has a choice attached to it? What I mean to say is, you could order me to manage your schools and, as a soldier I would have to obey orders.” “That is true Rufus, but seeing this is a non-military issue I really have to offer you a choice, don’t you think?” “Yes Caesar, one would think so; but what if I said no to your offer?” “Life is all about choices Rufus, there are really only two, the right choice and the wrong choice. I think you know what the right choice is, in this case, don’t you Rufus?” “Of course Caesar and the right choice is to accept your generous offer and manage your gladiatorial schools to the very best of my ability.” “You know Rufus, you and I are very perceptive men. We understand how things work. You and I will make a superb team just as Claudius and I made a superb team, don’t you think?” “You are right Caesar, we do understand each other, extremely well, and we will make an excellent team,” Rufus said, both men laughing as they walked on. Claudius forded the Duranius River and traveled the north bank, the night he escaped. The river flowed in an east to west direction and he remembered the crude maps he had studied in the command tent. If he followed the river west, it would eventually lead him to the sea, to Atlanticus. He also knew if he then followed the seacoast north, he would eventually arrive at his destination, the shipyards of Verdueen, his home. He had three close calls during the journey. He had to elude Roman cavalry patrols on two occasions. He once had to enter the river and submerge in the frigid water, breathing through a reed to keep from being spotted. By the time the patrol passed, and he emerged from the water, he was chilled to the bone and he couldn’t stop shaking. He ran to stay warm, and although he wanted to avoid it, he had to build a fire to dry his clothing and keep warm while doing it. The third encounter was with a large force of several hundred Gallic warriors. He suspected they were on their way to join Vercingetorix at some far flung rally point. He suspected it may be Alesia. The small army passed within mere feet of his hiding place, almost stumbling over him hidden in the brush. He could overhear their conversation as the men marched, but only a few of their words were familiar to him. After they passed, he let out a huge sigh of relief. Small game was plentiful and he was able to set traps and snares to provide a food supply. When he felt safe enough, he began to eat his food cooked, which was much preferable to the other alternative. Fresh water was more than abundant and the occasional discovery of a berry bush, or nest of bird eggs, kept him in reasonably good health. He once came close enough to a deer to actually be able to bring the animal down by throwing his sword like a dagger, a skill Rufus had taught him and one he had

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regularly practiced. How many times has what Rufus taught me, saved my life, he thought? The deer not only provided him with food, it also provided him with clothing. He only had to scrape the hide clean and crudely form it as a welcome weatherproof garment. It also gave him a means to conceal his Roman weapon. As he traversed the miles he thought of his father and wondered if Rufus had realized his subterfuge. Somehow, some way he knew his father would sense what he had done. I hope he would approve, Claudius thought. He said the Gods would show me a way, and he was right, they did. Yes, he will know and he will understand. Counting the notches on his traveling stick, it had been thirty-one days since the battle of Gergovia. Following the river was not the most direct route but as the land gradually sloped downward toward the sea, the mountains he had been forced to traverse, flattened out and the going became less arduous. On the thirty-second day he could smell the sea and with another half day of travel it lay there before him, the great Atlanticus, stretching before him as a limitless entity, its vastness, as far as he knew, reaching to the ends of the earth. He now headed north. His diet became more varied. It grew to include fish, muscles and crab, all cooked in a wet seaweed bed, spread over hot coals, and steamed to succulent perfection. He didn’t fear building a fire now, as he slept, every night, in the warmth of one. He was always careful to set snare alarms to warn him of any danger. His hair and beard had grown out considerably. Gone was the clean-shaven military style; back was the heavy growth of hair and beard. I must look like a Veneti warrior again; I certainly don’t look like a Roman soldier, he thought, with a slight smile. In the long days of constant travel, and the long nights of reflection, one thought occupied his mind. Will my adopted people forgive my transgressions against them? He rarely doubted Darcia’s love for him. That deep love had been evident, the night before he left to confront the Lemonvici. She had held nothing back from him and he had held nothing back from her. However, he cringed to even think of it. She could have changed her mind, over time. They had now been separated for most of two years. He thought of the purple and yellow flowers, in the meadow, where they had first met. He could see them, in his mind’s eye, gently waving in the breeze, on their long slender stalks. It almost seemed as though he could smell their sweet fragrance, just by closing his eyes. On the thirtieth day of his journey he encountered the Carantonus River. He clearly remembered this river, from the maps. Two small islands, just off the coast, flanked the delta created by the river, where it emptied into the sea. He could clearly see the islands now, perhaps a mile or so offshore, lush and green, each with its own beach and seaside villages. The islands acted like a natural breakwater, protecting the mainland coast from the fury of Atlanticus. This natural barrier created a small, snug harbor, which served a very large village. He had heard of these people when he lived in Verdueen. They were called the Santones and they were friendly trading partners of the Pictones. Sighting this settlement, with its highly visible landmarks, meant he was very close to his destination. His anxiety grew by leaps and bounds. He didn’t sleep much that night. His mind played and replayed dozens of scenarios that could happen, upon his return to Verdueen, each one resulting in his condemnation and expulsion. When he finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, he dreamed he was being chased by a pack of howling wolves and right behind them were the

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residents of Verdueen, armed with clubs and scythes shouting, “Kill him, kill him.” When he awoke he was in a cold sweat. He decided to avoid the city of Verdueen itself. He arrived at the south side of the city, at about mid-afternoon and lay in hiding until nightfall. He set out around midnight hoping to avoid detection. He knew that many fishermen rose early so he wanted to be beyond the city when first light broke. He slipped by the harbor and shipyard pausing only a moment to reflect and look at the boat building sheds faintly visible in dim moonlight. He thought of his friend Vorel and all of his workmates. He thought of the woman Pestra and of her little son. He traveled past the little spit of land that had saved his life, he could see Govanus’ shack, up on the hill, just as he remembered it. Was his old friend inside, peacefully sleeping in his bed? All of the memories, associated with those places, flooded his mind and wrenched a silent sob from deep within him when he realized how much he had missed, these landmarks of his life, and how much of his life had passed, since he last saw the people associated with them. He planned to seek Darcia first and foremost. His mind was filled with thoughts of her. I will find her in the meadow where we first met, he thought, somehow knowing she would always go there. He knew, deep within his heart, that this would be the appropriate place to seek her. If she is not there, I will wait as long as it takes for her to come. She will know if I am an enemy or an outcast, or both. Once past the city he climbed into the hills, his climb covered very familiar terrain. He had scouted the city from this height and vantage point and had also explored it thoroughly on another occasion, the occasion when he discovered the flower filled meadow where he had met the love of his life. Not very far now, he thought. As the sun climbed in the rapidly clearing sky, the day turned warm and pleasant. A slight offshore breeze was blowing and the aroma of flowers told him the meadow was not far away. This time it was a real smell and not just in his imagination. The aroma was fragrant, intoxicating. His heart was racing, in his chest and his entire body was tingling with anticipation. His mouth was dry and his palms were moist, with fear, as he made his way through the trees toward the meadow. The trees were thinning now and then he saw the meadow directly ahead, our meadow, he thought. His elation dipped a bit. The meadow was not ablaze with purple and yellow colors, as he had expected. Most of the blossoms had dropped off of the green stems, to be replaced by a small greenish pod that signified next year’s growth. However, a strong fragrance still remained in the air. He remembered, just before a flower loses its blossom, only then is its fragrance the most powerful, as though the flower had to leave a lasting impression, before it passed away. It was then, that he saw her. It was Darcia and she was even more beautiful than he remembered. The sun shone on her golden hair. Her smile, as radiant as she, beamed from her face, reflective of the happiness she felt. Am I dreaming, is it really her, he wondered, could she be this happy without me, and then she spoke. At first he couldn’t discern the words but it appeared as though she were leaning over to speak towards the ground. It was then Claudius noticed four tiny hands attached to two tiny pairs of arms reaching up for her, pulling at her dress making crude words that weren’t really words at all. He watched her, silently observing her tending to two tiny blond headed toddlers that looked remarkably alike. Clucking and cooing over them like

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a loving mother hen tending to her chicks. She touched them, smoothed their hair, caressed their tiny faces, as only a loving mother can, and in that instant, he knew the children were his and he loved Darcia even more than he ever had before. He loved her and he loved his children, until he was overwhelmed by love, as though his heart would burst and the tears of joy gushed from his eyes. Suddenly Darcia straightened up and tilted her head to one side to listen. “Who’s there?” she said. “Declare yourself or I will make an alarm and there will be ten men here in an instant to strike you down, speak.” “You would strike down one who loves you more than life itself?” Before the last word was out of Claudius’ mouth, she was running to him, picking up her skirts with one hand, reaching out to him with the other, crying, laughing, and saying his name, all at the same time. As she ran, two tiny blond haired children, a little boy and a little girl, toddled along after her, falling, getting up, falling again, running to keep up with their mother. “Claudius, oh my dearest Claudius, I knew you would come back to me. I have seen this moment in my dreams so often, it had to come true. I willed it to come true,” she said, as she reached him and melted into his arms, the two tiny bodies close on her heels. He twirled her around as they embraced. The children, thinking it a game, squealed in delight. When the twirling stopped they stayed locked in each other’s arms, united in a timeless, lover’s embrace. The children stood quietly by, suddenly passive as though some unseen signal told them to wait patiently, standing by their mother, allowing her to have this moment, holding her dress to remind her of their presence. When Claudius and Darcia separated, each of their faces was flushed with emotion. She said to him, “My arms can’t get enough of you I want to hold you and never let go, but we shall have the rest of our lives to do that. Here Claudius, look, I want you to meet your children. This beautiful little boy is Claudalus and this beautiful little girl is Claudienne. Children, this big handsome man is your father. Come, don’t be afraid he won’t hurt you, he loves you.” Claudius scooped the children up, one in each arm, pulled them close to him and wept, sobbing into their tiny blond heads. Again, the children didn’t squirm to break from his grasp. The little boy reached out to touch his father’s beard, pulling back at the unusual feel of it. The children remained uncommonly quiet, somehow sensing the tenderness of the moment. When he calmed and collected himself. Claudius looked down at Darcia, as he held their children in his arms and said, “I love you Darcia. I will always cherish this precious moment. This is the happiest moment of my life. Nothing will ever be greater than this moment, and nothing will keep me from being here with you and with our children.” “Darcia, If only I had known. I never imagined what I am experiencing right now. I feel guilty and I feel the joy of fulfillment, all at the same time. I hope you can forgive me for not being there for you.” “I know what you had to seek my love. The fact that you are here tells me that the words inscribed on your sword have now become clear to you. You are here to find peace with the ones who love you beyond words. My ordeal was nothing, in light of yours. I was well cared for and far from alone. My mother and father saw me through the worst of

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it and Solsana was at her very best. She particularly liked helping to deliver twins. She said they were her first and that it was a very good omen for the tribe. I hope you like the names I picked Claudius. I wanted to honor you with a variation of your name, it is sort of a tribal custom when the child of a great warrior is born.” “The names are wonderful and I am flattered that you perceive me to be a great warrior. From now on I want to be known as a great father and husband and boat builder. The warrior in me was left on the battlefield at Gergovia. I laid that warrior to rest. He died alongside my best friend Marcus.” “I am truly sorry about your friend. I know you loved him very much. I want you to tell me of your adventures someday Claudius, what you did while we were apart, on cold winter nights in front of a warm cozy fire. I want know all about you when you were a child, about your parents, about Rufus, about Rome, about Aggie and Marcus, about being a soldier, all of it, as much as you can remember. Will you tell me Claudius, someday?” “Yes my love, I will tell you all of it so that you will truly know who I am and where I came from, but for now, I just want to be us, you me and our beautiful children.” “Come Claudius, it is time, we must go to the village. The people will want to see you now. They have been awaiting your coming for a long time. We must not disappoint them.” “Wait Darcia, what do you mean they want to see me and have been awaiting my coming? I lied to them and I betrayed them, perhaps they want to see me to stone me out of the village or even kill me.” She laughed and said, “No, no, far from that. You are a hero Claudius. The people of Verdueen have built a monument to you. Come, you will see.” As Claudius and his newly reunited family made their way from the hilltop meadow, toward the village, Darcia told Claudius what she had been doing. After the twins were born she had set up and maintained the one room house Claudius had built. “My parent’s house would have been much too small for all of us, and now that you are here, we can expand our little house. I would love for the children to each have their own room someday,” prattling on and on as they walked, almost as if they had never been apart. Once Claudius had been spotted and recognized, the word spread through Verdueen like a wildfire. In no time, there was a large group of people following them, chattering noisily, and before long, the entire village had joined the procession. “Look around my love, do you sense any hostility, in this crowd?’ “No, no I don’t. Everyone seems to be laughing and happy, it’s almost as if they were going to a festival. I certainly don’t understand why they seem so glad to see me. I lied to them and I betrayed them, they should hate me.” “No Claudius, you saved them and they know it. Were it not for you, many of these people would not be standing here now, they would be dead.” When they reached the village center, they could go no further, the gathered crowd, hemmed them in and prevented it. Barthos, had heard the commotion and joined the throng of people. He was, Darcia informed Claudius, still the head of “The Council of Twelve” so it was he who mounted the steps of the covered pavilion, the one with the seven chairs, and raised his arms for silence as many of Claudius’ friends approached him to welcome him back. Vardna, Vorel, his coworker at the shipyard, Govanus, the old

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man who found him shipwrecked, Solsana the healer. All shook his hand patted him on the back and welcomed him home. When the crowd had finally quieted down Barthos began to speak. “People of Verdueen, today is a glorious day. The man who fought and risked his life to save us, from the wrath of the Lemonvici, has returned to us, as we hoped he would. He is welcome, and, if he so desires, he can make his home here, with us, permanently. I, in particular, will welcome him to help raise my grandchildren.” This comment brought a roar of laughter from the crowd. Barthos raised his arms for quiet and began again, “In two days time, at the midday hour, there will be a proper celebration to welcome our son Claudius back home. At this same time, we shall dedicate the memorial we built, honoring his bravery. All are invited to attend; all we ask is that each family prepare a dish to share with his fellow townsmen, the ‘Council’ will see to the liquid refreshment. Now, I am quite sure Claudius and Darcia would like to retire to their home, with their children, to get re-acquainted, so to speak.” This elicited more laughter from the crowd and a reddening of the face from Darcia, “So for now,” Barthos continued, “Let them retire to their home in peace and happiness. Thank the Gods for Claudius safe return and thank you for coming to this gathering. We look forward to seeing you in two days, for the celebration.” The little family left the gathering amid much praise and loud cheering as they made their way toward their cozy home by the sea. As they walked along, Darcia holding onto Claudius’ arm, carrying Claudienne and Claudius carrying his little boy Claudalus, he said to her, Darcia, there is one thing that has recently been bothering me.” “What my love, what bothers you?” “When I left the Lemonvici, Calaxius, their chief, assured me that he would inform the people of Verdueen that I had died from wounds I received in the battle with his son, Vercingitus; yet, you and the villagers obviously expected me to return. How would that be possible if I were already dead?” “Oh that,” she said, “The Lemonvici soldier, that was sent to inform us that you were killed, he was a very poor liar. It only took three cups of mead and he told us the real story of the combat, and that my love, is when you became our hero and savior.” “What about when the council realized I was really a Roman soldier and not a shipwrecked Veneti tribesman. Was that not reason enough for them to disown me?” “Oh that, posh,” Darcia said again, “‘The Council of Twelve’ knew you were not a Veneti long before that. They knew when you started working at the shipyard, the whole village knew. Everyone liked and respected you for your work on the ships and later for your rescue of that young boy from the wolves. It was felt that you were a good man, so it didn’t matter where you came from, you were accepted for who you became, not who you were.” “But how was it they were so sure I was not Veneti Darcia, my disguise was very good, I had even fooled Veneti tribesmen into thinking I was one of them,” Claudius said, most emphatically. “Oh that was very simple my love, everyone knew that you bathed far too often to be a Veneti.” The End

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