Vengeance & Remission

Original title: VENGEANCE AND REMISSION

  Author: Amalia Angellinni

  Cover: Rita Beger & AB

  Editor: Anne Canders

  ISBN 978-83-929832-5-5

  Free English Edition (April 2015)

  Copyright 2015 Anna Brakoniecka, Scholar Europe (exclusive publisher)

  Contact Amalia:

  https://www.facebook.com/amalia.angellinni

  https://amaliaangellinni.wordpress.com

  Vengeance & Remission Websites:

  https://vengeanceandremission.wordpress.com/

  https://plus.google.com/114944878002089744765/posts

  Be Lovefool: https://www.lovefool.be

  Meet Amalia @ Twitter

  License Notes

  "No man is an island, intire of its self; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a clod bee washed away by the sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were; as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee."

  John Donne

  THANK YOU!

  If I would say just a simple „Thank you”, it wouldn't describe my gratitude even in the smallest range. Especially warm greetings are going to Anne Canders, who was the English editor of the book. Thanks again to my family, friends and thanks to Anna Brakoniecka & Scholar Online Europa for supporting me all the way long up to now. Thanks to all of my readers for their feedback.

  Amalia

  VENGEANCE AND REMISSION'S SOUNDTRACK:

  #1 WAY TO BRITANNIA

  #2 TRAFFIC JAM

  #3 WAY BACK HOME

  #4 WINTER SONG

  #5 DANGEROUS PLACES

  #6 ONE DAY SOON

  #7 RECONING SONG

  #8 HOW TO SAVE A LIFE

  #1 WAY TO BRITANNIA

  Not everyone remembers the eruption of Mount Pelée. The mentioned outbreak of the so called Bald Mountain in today's French, divine overseas department of lovely Martinique where the Caribbean Plate meets the Atlantic Oceanic crust belonging to the South American Plate happened in 1902 within a few minutes. It was the worst volcanic disaster of the 20th century and devastated the island completely, destroying the town of St. Pierre, killing 30,000 inhabitants, leaving only 3 survivors. There were signs that should have been interpreted as forewarnings. There was an impressive, firework-like light rain of spacey cinders on the mountain's southern and western side. There were sharp, perceptible underground shocks that should make people insecure. There was a giant, extremely scary cloud containing rocks and ashes, before the mountain produced loud explosions, earthquakes, and a massive, scary pillar of dense black smoke. It was the beginning of an upcoming Armageddon for the people of the island. On the day, which stayed in the memory of human nature as the darkest day of Mount Pelée, black clouds rolled upwards from the mountainside one after the other and formed a frightening, extraordinary huge, mushroom-like, dark cloud that darkened the infinity and innocence of the sky in a 50-mile radius. The city burned for further days as if it was a never ending story of hell including red, streaming lava and tireless tongues of fire. Everyone, who said that there was no warning, could not interpret the previous days and weeks correctly. There were enough signs to be prepared for the worst case scenario.

  Even less people remember the eruption of almost perfectly symmetric Mayon Volcano, the so called Beautiful Lady after the legendary heroine Daragang, on the island of Luzon from the shores of the Gulf of Albay in the Philippines. Magayon, a part of the Pacific Ring of Fire, used to be the most active volcano with over 48 eruptions in the past 400 years. The first documented, but not most destructive eruption was witnessed in 1616 by Dutch explorer Joris van Spilbergen. Less than 200 years later, the volcano was belching dark ash and bombarded the town with tephra that buried the town of Cagsawa. Ash accumulated to 9 meter in depth. Green trees and plants were non-recurrently, violently burned. The rivers were certainly damaged. The eruption was responsible for over 1200 deaths. Due to the accumulation of atmospheric ash, a sad and tragic Year Without a Summer followed. The nature recovered over the long years of troublesome rehabilitation and it was finally possible to establish a national park and a protected landscape there in the year 2000 named Mayon Volcano Natural Park. There was a truly magnificence, uniqueness and beauty captured in this extremely sad and mourning occurrence in these shocking, frightening days.

  Marcus Lucius was not able to get to know any information neither about Mayon Volcano nor Mount Pelée. He was a Roman soldier, a tribune in the most powerful army of the world of that time. He had heard about the city of Pompeii being partially destroyed and buried under meters of ashes and pumices in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79. He was like a volcano himself. His internal, dark energy was dangerously coming out from the deepest parts of his body, passing the crust of his skin, allowing accusations hot as magma, fussy, obtrusive reproaches and blames like volcanic ashes escaping from below the surface. He could not bear his internal pressure anymore. In the same way that the pieces of matter were collected for a longer while in the inside of the volcanoes before erupting violently, when the time was ripe, flying over chaotically, powerfully and frightening, the same way Marcus Lucius felt, when he remembered what happened some days ago. He felt the same increasing, overwhelming rage and lack of power to predict what was already going to happen. He analysed over and over again which signs he missed, what aspects he could have overseen, what he could have deduced earlier to prevent the damages that were done.

  The last days were hard for him. He didn't remember much at all. As he was laying in a slender bed, he had some visions. Some were clear, but short, and showed rather static scenes than dynamic memories. Some were blurry, fuzzy and hazy scenes taking his whole attention. He tried to analyse them, but he was too weak. He struggled extremely to find any approach to structure the scenes and to find out the truth. He failed every time, because he was falling senseless due to his high, dangerous fever and the wounds, he didn't perceive. He wasn't completely sure whether everything really had happened, because he was injured and had continuous fever. He felt permanently cold despite his dangerously increasing body temperature. Then, he felt too hot, he sweated a lot and felt like going insane. He felt weak, but when he would collect all these pieces of fury, anger and sadness hidden in his every cell, he could destroy everything standing in his way. He was burning out internally. His state of mind was somewhat destroyed by collapsing and being squeezed in itself. This implosion concentrated enormous, inhuman matter and dark energy. True, overwhelming pressure and inward and outward forces were involved into the process of his destruction. He didn't care. He already lost what he was fighting for. There was no hope for any improvement of the situation. There was just a glowing hope for dying before any further thought would attack him again and again until he would lose his consciousness again and again. It wasn't a life worth living anymore.

  It wasn't like losing your favourite book, which you had borrowed to someone, who never gave it back to you, or like deleting an important file from a computer. We would consider these disasters as Armageddon in our times. But today, you can backup your files, buy new computer, or even create everything anew in the worst case. We forget that we can lose more valuable things that give sense to our life: a best friend by not liking his new girlfriend, a grandfather after he lost his battle with cancer, a father in a car crash on a busy street, a mother through the consequences of a accident at home or the person you are in love with through various reasons in general.

  Marcus Lucius loss was irreplaceable, unrecoverable. He had lost his wife. If a person you love dies, the entire wo
rld is not the same place anymore. You can't restore the living creation – neither by memorizing nor by replacing the person with other people. There is no remedy to return to the world experienced before.

  Sometimes, you think about dying and losing your life, but you don't really follow it seriously, until you lose someone you love. Death was his companion already. He had already lost many soldiers on his way. He took part in a dozen of ambushes and he saw many deadly wounded and killed. He was injured once, too, but it wasn't serious. In the end, he survived. Now, he wanted to be dead, but there was no battle to die in honour. There was even no real, probable perspective for a battle. There were only chances for living the sad, miserable life with no goal.

  When he didn't have flashbacks, in the rare moments of consciousness, he saw two unknown people, a man and a woman, he couldn't recognize at first. The man was a Roman soldier, one of Appius's legionnaires. Marcus Lucius knew Appius from the time, when he joined the army. He was 15 and couldn't wait to move out from the house of his mother. She was mourning for too long, after Marcus Lucius's father was killed in a battle. Marcus Lucius thought he could escape the mourning by joining the army, but it was even worse there in the beginning. Every tribune knew that Marcus Lucius was the one and only son of the great warrior Maximus. Marcus Lucius had the impression that everyone looked at him and waited for such brave, outstanding and wise actions like he would expect from his father. Every day he had to prove that he was someone else. However, the longer he was a soldier, and the harder he tried to prove it, the often he had to hear he was exactly Maximus's own flesh and blood. He was not only looking similarly to his father. Everyone who knew Maximus and who saw Marcus Lucius's behaviour easily noticed that Marcus Lucius developed the rare skill to stay focussed within the tunnel vision. Usually, every soldier was able to develop the skill to concentrate on a constricted circular tunnel-like field of vision while ignoring the peripheral vision. In a fight, these soldiers perceived a surge of anger, an increasing amount of testosterone and fight club feeling, to be able to ignore the surrounding. In such a situation, they could be attacked easily by anyone from the array of sight beyond the tunnel vision.

  Not every man was able to focus on the enemy without retention of central vision. Marcus Lucius, like his father, didn't lose the general view while focussing on a limited space of sight. He was able to not only be aware of the direct enemy, but also of the fighters and movements around him. It was not easy and it took a very high amount of strength. However, seeing the similarity between father and son was incredibly frustrating to Marcus Lucius. It made him feel being predefined again and again. Therefore, he started ignoring these remarks. It wasn't genuine, but became possible after a long, demanding period of getting used to it.

  As far as he remembered, his father was a tall, well-built man with dark hair and perfect manner. He always knew what to say or how to act. He always had an excellent, suitable advice at hand and he could rely on every soldier that knew him. He was welcomed everywhere. He had no enemies and everybody treated him with the same respect and friendship: whether ordinary legionnaires, tribunes, legates or any other person he met on his way. Marcus Lucius's mother was always proud to entertain guests coming to their house on a hill outside of Rome. From here, she could overlook the most important city of the time. When the time for mourning was over and all guests had spoken their condolences, the real emptiness took over every free space in the house.

  Marcus Lucius barely knew his father. There weren't many opportunities to spend time together, even if they lived in one place for a year. Once, Marcus Lucius was taken to Britannia by his father. It was a long, fascinating journey with many short, but remarkable memories. Marcus Lucius saw snow for the very first time in his life. The surrounding had another shadow of green and the sky was mostly clouded. Even the blue sky looked different there. He loved the rain and the sun. He loved the free spaces there. He was ten years old, had two months of fascinating journey between Rome and Britannia behind, and he had to work like a real legionnaire. His father gave him to the regular temp full of soldiers and send for him just every now and then. Maximus didn't visibly intervene in the daily routine of his son and relied on the supervision of his friends. One of them was Appius, a tall, slim and bony man with shrill tone, when he was unsatisfied. He threw comments, orders and straight looks. He was hard, but fair. His advices were always adjusted, even if communicated in a brutal, direct, short way. Appius reminded Marcus Lucius on slave driver. Appius used to scream every now and then, because his look said more than thousand words. Marcus Lucius tried as hard as he could not to attract negative attention. It was quite hard to move the heavy sword properly, but every further day of training made it easier to handle to weapon. Mostly, he was good, but just good enough for his age. Compared to other legionnaires, he was simply too young. A ten years old boy couldn't really contest with trained 20 years old ones. They were bigger, stronger and they have been training since years. Already during the first day, he had to sweep the stakes, even if he tried to deal blows as well. He lost every combat during the first training, but he always stood up and was ready to fight further. He had so many bruises and some wounds, but it didn't matter. He stood heavily breathing and looking patiently and respectfully around.

  -You're a brave little man. - said Appius when he came closer to him. - You're a brave little man.

  Marcus Lucius didn't feel proudly or satisfied. He lost every battle and he wanted his revenge. Suddenly, his father appeared behind him and Marcus Lucius heard how Appius welcomed Maximus in the training camp. You just simply knew that Maximus was around, because his charisma was in the air.

  -You can be proud of your little boy. He doesn't lose the overview in the hardest situations and he acts with honour. I never have seen such a spirit in such a small body.

  Maximus laughed and slapped his son on the back. Only then, Marcus Lucius felt better.

  While returning to the tent, where the soldiers were sleeping, Marcus Lucius didn't expect his father talking with him. However, Maximus didn't keep silence. He walked proudly, made big, self-conscious steps, and talked with his engaging, manly voice:

  -Stay focussed. Don't let anyone or anything distract you. You fought well, even if you lost. You can learn more from one lose than from thousand victories. You have to stay focussed more next time.

  Marcus Lucius nodded with understanding and enjoyed the short personal contact to his father. Some days later, his father appeared again at the end of the training and slapped him friendly on the back.

  -Stay focussed, my boy. - He repeated and Marcus Lucius was sure that he won't hear anything else from his father.

  -How do you do it? - He asked then and Maximus laughed with joy.

  -That's a good question. - He said. - Life never asks us whether we are prepared or not, whether we're old enough or not. You have to stay focussed on what you want to achieve and keep going in this direction. You should notice the surrounding to analyse the risk or danger coming towards you, but you can't lose the goal in front of your eyes. Stay watchful. Stay focussed. Dare to do what you want.

  -So why do I have to be prepared, if life brings surprises then?

  Maximus laughed even louder.

  -Nobody can seriously promise you that you can be prepared for everything, but being prepared for different things makes it easier to build-up a strategy for surprising situations. You need some basics for being able to estimate the situation, the related risk and the related win.

  The stay in Britannia for a year was combined with such rare, but serious and friendly talks. They didn't happen as often as Marcus Lucius wished, but he appreciated every advice from his father. First thanked to the time spent in Britannia, Marcus Lucius discovered why his father was so popular, respected and well-known. Already his presence made the moment more important. Even if he gave advices, it didn't sound so brutal like in the case of Appius. Even if he gave criticism, it didn't sound patronizingly. Marcus Lucius didn't d
are to wish being like his father.

  Marcus Lucius never had any temptations to be promoted. His father was already quite high in the army structure. Maximus was legati, a legion commander, who also controlled the auxiliary regiments attached to their legion, headed the civil administration and had to report directly to the emperor in Rome. He was one of the youngest in such a crucial post, but he had enough experience and backup from the legions behind him. They loved their empire with the incomprehensible, undefined, but noticeable power of Rome: Rome, the endless, powerful city and unlimited, successful state. The name of their capital was expressed with love due to the anagram for amor. Rome was worth fighting for.

  Marcus Lucius preferred to stay on his post as a legionnaire. Once, he asked his father about being such an important commander and Maximus thought about it for a while, before answering the question.

  -It's not easy, my son, and it's a great responsibility. The further you go, the more enemies you have.

  -Enemies? - Marcus Lucius was surprised, because he never saw a person acting unfriendly towards his father.

  -Oh yes, enemies. They watch your every step, they analyse your weaknesses and smile politely in front of you. Still, you have to stay focussed and know whom to trust in hard times.

  -How do you know who is your friend and who's not, then? - Marcus Lucius was curious.

  -Sometimes, it's easy, and sometimes, it's not. You have to get trust in soldiers, when you fight with them on your side, because you need someone to rely on, but you have to stay focussed and hope that you chose the right people around you. If you're not sure about someone, let it be. Don't push yourself too far, because, of all things, you have to be true to yourself.

  -And that's it? There is no further way to be sure of it?

  -You never can be sure about anything. People change, because life brings new experiences every day. You can just assume with high probability what the next day can bring you. Due to collected experiences and memories, you assume with high probability that someone is your friend or not. Sometimes, you have to dare a leap, sometimes you have to draw back. Still, there is nothing for sure in life. We are all people struggling with our surrounding, with situations and with ourselves.

  His father's tone was reasoning and somewhat sad. He didn't make the impression like talking with his son, rather like talking to a good friend. Marcus Lucius listened cautiously to every word and inhaled the advices like a sponge. He appreciated them all.

  He had his training hours and had to hold the regular short gladius of 24 inches long. Mostly, he had to fight against the best young legionnaires and he continued losing. However, his loses were less visible and he became more successful in defence as well as in attack. Even when he lost a fight, many saw him as a winner. He was a ten years old boy and had serious rivals, who didn't simplify the battles. Marcus Lucius was satisfied to see that it became easier every day to move gladius the way he wanted. His muscles were growing. His statue started to look manly. His childish eyes were focussed and his movements won fluency and self-consciousness. In the beginning, in autumn, Marcus Lucius was a motivated fighter. In late spring, he developed into a motivated and trained fighter. He had trained a lot during that time. He woke up earlier than everyone, no matter what the weather was like, and warmed up in the darkness of the morning. In the evening, he sat down somewhere near to a fire place and analysed the working day. He was the last person standing in the line for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He was the first person on the training field and the last person to leave it. He learnt to decode hints from Appius's face impressions. When Appius moved his head to the right, mostly he wasn't satisfied. If he moved his head to the left, he was totally dissatisfied. When he nodded, even minimally, it was a good sign. When he screamed, someone had screwed up. When he crossed his arms over his chest, he was torn and worried. It was so easy to get feedback almost right away.

  Towards the end of Marcus Lucius's stay in Britannia, Maximus took him away from camp almost every evening and they trained together outside, in the lovely surrounding between leafy trees, verdant meadows and wet drops of rain. Mostly, they didn't talk a lot. Maximus moved his sword or just a simple, long stick and tried to distract his son. At the very beginning, the spontaneous attempts to get Marcus Lucius nervous and irritated were quite successful. Maximus always gave him short advice how to improve the technique. But to learn how to stay aware of the surrounding with several enemies in front of him, was even more important to Marcus Lucius.

  -It's easy to concentrate on another person in front of you, but in a fight, you have so many soldiers around you, when you have some riders, some soldiers from your legion, a group of enemies around you, you have to understand the danger around you without losing your mind. In the chaos of a battle, it's very difficult to stay focussed, but it's possible.

  Maximus played some games with Marcus Lucius to prepare him for the real combats. During these trainings Marcus Lucius noticed how genius his father was and how poor his own technique was, even after weeks of training. Compared to the level of legionnaires, Marcus Lucius knew his father was like a god. He could conquer every person with just a minimal movement. It was fascinating how fast and accurate he was. His precise moves were fluent, quick and perfect. He didn't attack; he simply defended himself and used the power of Marcus Lucius against the boy. Maximus explained in detail how to apply the tricks and how to improve. He usually didn't give any compliments, he rather used to say “You have to be better” and “Focus, Marcus Lucius, focus”. When they didn't train the muscles, they sat down on bigger stones and played strategic games. Then Maximus drew lines on the ground which looked like a simplified political map and set some smaller stones on the different sides of the borders. The stones symbolised legions that were ready to fight. Sometimes, they played as a team against an imaginary enemy, and sometimes, they played against each other. Marcus Lucius sat concentrated and was so focussed that he didn't even feel the coldness outside. Maximus smiled when he saw his son freezing and even not noticing it. He was visibly proud to see the intelligence and endurance.

  When the day came, when Marcus Lucius had to go back to Rome, Appius stepped by and slapped him on the back. Then, he bowed shortly in front of him and went away. There were no words needed to know that there was a kind of respect a teacher can have towards his pupils. On the contrary, Maximus gave some orders. Marcus Lucius was supposed to send greetings to the family, support his mother and keep on training. Marcus Lucius was moved and wasn't able to talk. He simply nodded again and again. He wasn't sure whether he understood every word he heard, because he had to fight against the tears. He was sad and unsatisfied. He wanted to stay longer, but it was not possible. His stay here was an exception. Usually, boys didn't see the inside of an army camp before they haven’t finish the 15th year of life.

  Marcus Lucius reminded the moments of past, while he was lying in bed with high fever. His darkest thoughts contrasted extremely with the happy, shiny, late afternoon. The surrounding didn't match the mood at all Marcus Lucius was in. He was in pain, but he needed it to know that he was alive. Additionally, it was a kind of self-punishment. The gloomy part of his soul wanted to have its revenge immediately. Because he thought he was responsible for all what had happened, because he hasn’t considered a possible betrayal of Quintus, it was Marcus Lucius, who had to suffer. A piece of the penalty should be shared with Quintus. This was the main thought which came to his mind every now and then when he was conscious.

  One day, he was longer awake and perceived more of his surrounding than before. He saw a girl, maybe 18, maybe 20 years old, who immediately went away when she noticed his state of mind. When she was sure he fell unconscious again, she washed his wounds very attentively, concentrated and tenderly. She used to quote Homer's works as far as Marcus Lucius could notice. She claimed the Song of Ilion in Greek telling the story of more than just few weeks in the final year of the Trojan war.

  "Take courage. State what your powers te
ll you.

  By Apollo, whom Zeus loves, to whom you, Calchas,

  pray in prophesy to the Danaans, I swear this—

  while I live to look upon the light of day,

  no Achaean will raise violent hands against you,

  no, not even if you name Agamemnon,

  who claims he's by far the best Achaean."

  Her lips were moving slowly, barely noticeable. They were full and nicely pink. Her cheeks were faint and noble, but they showed she spent a lot of time outside. Her eyes weren't watchful, rather concentrated on the pieces of Marcus Lucius's body that she had to clean again. Her voice was pleasant and enjoyable. It worked like medicine. Her fond touch was desirable.

  At first, Marcus Lucius hoped that she was his wife. They looked similarly. Decima had long, dark red, curly hair and sun-bathed skin, too. She wasn’t shy towards sun like the Roman noble ladies, who used to avoid any fresh air and sun rays. Decima liked to stay in the garden and meeting her best friend on one of the markets in Rome. She had a nice, slim, and curvy body and a wonderful, catching smile. The unknown girl was a little bit smaller, more daintily. Her fingers were longer and her look was sadder, but she showed a special kind of patience and power. Her moves were more insecure compared to Decima’s. His wife used to stroke him stronger, more confident. The unknown girl apparently didn’t have much experience with men.

  -Who are you? - He asked finally.

  She noticed his watchful eyes and her cheeks turned red immediately. She jumped away like a wild, timid animal. Her reserved attitude was shown in her body position, reaction and her eyes. At speed, she was many steps away from him and stared at him with an insecure look. Her breath was faster and her hands trembled. She was visibly nervous.

  -Julia. I am the daughter of Julius Fabius. I was Maxentius's wife. - She answered quickly, but proudly. Her hands still trembled.

  It was hard for her to stay secure and without any movement in the wagon, which was in motion. It wiggled and wobbled more or less powerfully.

  -Don't be scared... - He started, but she refused immediately like a cheeky child:

  -I'm not scared.

  Even when she said so, she didn't make the impression of feeling comfortable and well. She looked cute. Marcus Lucius wasn't sure how he was supposed to handle the situation. Decima didn't oppose or comment his statements. He smiled sadly, while he remembered his dead wife. Then, he thought that Julia wasn't a slave, who should take care of him. She was a Roman citizen. He remembered briefly having seen Julia sitting on the floor leaning on the wall of the wagon, and sleeping, when she didn't spend her time with taking care of him. He had some pictures about her leaning above him and touching his wounds. He felt much pain, but he never complained. He didn't mind the aching. At least, he knew he was alive.

  -Forgiveness, why are you here? - He asked after a minute.

  -You don't remember anything? - She was confused.

  He had some pieces of memories in his head, but the whole picture was missing.

  -My wife is dead. - He said mournfully and he closed his eyes. His breath was deeper, but gloomy.

  Julia was moved by his emotions. Even if he didn't say a word of how he was doing, it was easy to see how affected he was.

  -Appius confirmed it already. - Julia said slowly, insecure.

  -Appius? - He was immediately present again. - What has Appius to do with it?

  Julia watched his spontaneous move attentively. He sat up in the bed and gazed at her with impatience. He needed more information, she seemed to know things he wanted to know.

  -With all due respect, you really don't remember anything? - Her doubts weren't strong. It was rather a kind of disbelieve. She wondered how he could forget the way he defended her just a few days ago. As she was travelling with her husband, they were attacked by a Barbarian horde. The fight started unexpectedly. Nobody had assumed that the enemy could attack a Roman convoy on the North-Eastern borders of the Pannonia province within the Roman Empire. Julia remembered that she started being worried about her integrity due to perspective of spending her time just with her husband. Maxentius Claudius wasn't a pleasant man. He was much older than she and she was already almost twenty. Half year ago, she had to marry him due to the request of her father. Julius Fabius gave her away to a man she didn't respect and didn't like at all. Julia wondered many times what was more important to her father than her dignity.

  Marcus Lucius noticed her absence and his impatience grew exponentially. If his curiousness and impatience would have been shown on a graph, it would have looked like an upward-sloping function which increases faster as the state of nosiness increases above the x-axis. He repeated his last question and ignored the pain in the chest. He knew he shouldn't have changed his position, because his wound opened itself and blood appeared on the grey pieces of material. His voice was determined and brought Julia back to reality.

  -I think I should call Octavian. - She spoke calmly, shyly.

  -Fair enough, but please stay here. Stay and tell me what you know. - It didn't sound like a request, rather like an order.

  Julia's body was tensed and Marcus Lucius wasn't sure whether she didn't like talking to him or whether she didn't like the topic. She seemed to be insecure and feeling unwell. Her muscles on the naked arms and young face were visibly strained. She analysed whether she should go away or stay. As her eyes moved vividly in the short moment of desperation, she noticed that Marcus Lucius started to bleed. Automatically, she stepped forward and took the material from Marcus Lucius's chest.

  -Lay down. - She ordered and enormous strength was noticeable in her voice.

  He didn't react. He defended his position: he wanted to know what happened.

  -If you tell me... - He was weak, but he didn't intend to give up. He could fight for his wish up to the deadly end. Julia noticed it and reacted appropriately.

  -I will, if you lay down first. - She was next to him and bowed over his body. She didn't argue, she offered a compromise. She analysed the disaster he caused to himself. The wound bleed increasingly. She put her hand on his chest and looked Marcus Lucius into the eyes.

  -You lay down, I'll tell you what you want to know.

  He calmed down quickly and let her push his body down onto the bed. He followed her moves and let her pull her hand towards his chest. It was extremely painful, but he didn't lose his senses. He observed how calm she acted. Earlier, she made a chaotic, insecure impression, but in the moment of stress and risk, she didn't let herself get worked up in any way. He watched as attentively as possible how she took a clean piece of material and put it into a strange substance that smelt totally unpleasant. Then, she rubbed something into his chest and he thought there was a fire set to it. His heart almost jumped out of the body. His forehead was wet with sweat and his arms and legs started to tremble. He didn't feel good, but he kept focussing at Julia. Her face was calm, in contrast to his condition.

  -Hush, hush, and breathe deeply. - She whispered and washed his sweat away from his forehead.

  Her voice calmed him down. It was easier to manage the pain when he was focussed on Julia. He didn't follow her moves, but he stared at her eyes. They were monitoring certain parts of his body. Apparently, she tried to determine how bad were the injuries caused by his latest action. She smiled when she saw that other wounds stayed partially closed. It was a nice, satisfying smile. Still, she wasn't happy about the state of injury on his chest. She wasn't a doctor and was not able to treat him properly. All she knew about treating wounds, she learned from Octavian. She repeated everything he showed her and hoped that her actions were appropriate. She washed away the sweat from Marcus Lucius's chest and head. He was visibly grateful for it. After some minutes of fast, careful actions, Marcus Lucius noticed that her speed started to decrease. No further moves were needed to stabilise his condition. She was relieved, when the bleeding stopped. Marcus Lucius saw it in her eyes. She didn't respond to his gaze. Her right hand was lying on his chest and kept pressuri
ng a piece of wool material against it. Her eyes were focussed on his chest. Her breath was regular. She spread the kind of coolness he needed. In this moment Marcus Lucius stretched his arm and touched her fingers. She got nervous for a moment and she wanted to take her fingers back, but his grasp was heavy. For some seconds, he looked her in the eyes and she returned the look. Something in his look forced her not to yield. Marcus Lucius's look wasn't clear. He was half-dreamy he called her with the name of his dead wife.

  -Decima... - He whispered and his grasp became stronger.

  She wasn't sure how Marcus Lucius felt right in that moment. He was excited, but dashed. Julia assumed that he loved his wife, because he obviously missed her. Julia noticed the longing note in his tone when he called her with Decima's name. Julia's didn’t crave for Maxentius. She wasn't able to pretend being down after his death. Therefore, it was hard to imagine for her what Marcus Lucius felt.

  Julia played along and let the wounded man dream as long as his vision involved just holding her hand. It was a pleasant, nice gesture of him and Julia esteemed it. Up to that moment, she didn’t have many occasions to perceive a manly touch. Marcus Lucius's skin was rough, compared to the wrinkled, dry skin of Maxentius, but she liked it. Her father's skin was old and wrinkled, too, but it wasn't disgusting to touch. Maybe she was just negative-minded towards Maxentius, because he had hurt her so often in a short period of time. They were married for a half a year and he had already managed to make her hate him to the bones. He had raped her and used her body violently. She wasn't able to oppose, because she was weaker and she felt obligated to her father's will. If Julius Fabius decided to give her away, Maxentius could possess her the way he wanted, because it was his right. Julia was raised to be supportive to the head of the family. Her father was an influential, complicated person always striving to achieve his targeted goals and he wasn’t used to hearing any word of resistance. Maxentius seemed to be similar and therefore, Julia started rather thinking about killing herself than to oppose directly. When Maxentius was killed, she felt extremely relieved in the first moment. Relief was stronger than uncertainty. She didn't think about the consequences of the attack, this only hit while sitting in the wagon during the further journey, and she started worrying about her future. Up to the attack of the Barbarian horde, she was travelling with her husband to Britannia. Maxentius was supposed to take command there. Julia wasn't informed why, but she assumed that her marriage definitely played a role in Maxentius's new position. She was a playing card in the hands of both men: her father used her to expand his power and Maxentius confirmed his own importance with the surname of the Fabii family. Her family held considerable power, almost total power, for much of the early Republic until the defeat at Veii. Even after that time, with her family so depleted, the sole survivors carried awesome auctoritas due just to their illustrious name. Maxentius became a part of this family. Julia was screwed. She felt like a prisoner until she got a short moment of freedom, when Maxentius was killed in the ambush. She reminded how his head turned red, how blood poured from his head. She noticed unknown people behind his back. They screamed and moved fast. She couldn't hear them though. It was strange to see the whole danger coming up to her and not being able to resist. She wasn’t even scared. She wasn't afraid of losing her life. In this moment, she saw Maxentius dying and trying to touch her for the last time, she stepped back and watched how he gazed at her with anger. The more furious he was, the calmer she became. She even smiled or at least, she reminded to contemplate whether a smile would be appropriate in these circumstances.

  While she stood without any movement, she noticed how soldiers and slaves from the other two wagons fought against the barbarians. She heard swords hit each other, causing such an iron-like, unpleasant sound. She heard screams supposed to scare the enemy or to give courage to the fighting people. She saw movements of the surrounding and she wondered why she wasn't scared anymore. She felt totally nothing except complete indifference. A great question mark filled her mind. She wondered why she didn't have any power to struggle or why she was not afraid of men attacking her. While she analysed her strange perception, she saw a man on a horse coming into the fight. It was Marcus Lucius. At that time, she didn’t have a clue who he was. She admired the lonely rider in the red tunica betraying his affiliation to Roman army. He looked dazzled and tired, his clothes were dirty, but the closer he came, the more professional he looked. The movements of his sword were precise, accurate and faster than Julia’s eyes could follow. Every barbarian touched by Marcus Lucius's sword fell to the ground with a scary grimace on the face. Marcus Lucius didn't wear any armour. He didn't notice the cuts he collected or he didn't permit himself to feel the wounds. Julia reminded how he had looked at her. There was something in his eyes that fascinated her. It was just a very short moment, when their eyes met, but from this moment on, Julia felt like a normal person again. Her life became valuable to her, again. She got scared by the fight around her and screamed instinctively once or even twice. She wanted to run away, but the soldiers duelled with barbarians on her escape route and it was impossible to flee from there. She stepped back to the wagon and saw how two barbarians won over a legionnaire and came closer to her. Out of nowhere, Marcus Lucius appeared again and killed them within a few seconds. He stood in front of her and suddenly, he got a strange look in the eyes. He was tired and wounded. He was losing his consciousness while someone yelled his name.

  He kept holding his sword, turned back to her and with his last strength, he protected Julia from further, attacking enemies. He started losing his speed and got hurt even worse. Julia empathised with him. She didn't want him to die. He was the one, who tried to protect her, even without knowing her. He had to be a good man. She observed how his arm moved and how a group of further legionnaires finally approached from the direction of Aquincum. Julia recognized Appius, whom she had met during the stay in Aquincum. Maxentius wanted to show off with his new wife and stepped by his old friend, as Maxentius called Appius. They didn't seem to be good friends as Julia noticed during a common dinner. Appius stayed reserved and politically correct. His face expressed nor joy nor unhappiness. Maxentius didn't speak much, either, which wasn’t normal. Usually, Maxentius could talk for hours, which was exhausting, if you had to follow his thoughts.

  Julia remembered how Appius yelled Marcus Lucius's name and how fast Appius came to the place where Julia was standing. There was something warm in Appius's tone. He knew the suddenly fallen soldier well. She kept looking at the stranger, who laid on the ground. His bleeding was strong. His eyes were closed. However, he smiled as if he would remind something outstanding. The corners of his lips trembled. Sweat drops appeared on his forehead. Appius bowed over the stranger and tried to talk with him.

  The scene from the past reminded her at the latest bleeding she could stop during the present day.

  -You... You look sad.

  Julia thought she was dreaming, when she heard the whisper of another person's dry throat. She trembled from the sudden shock. She didn't expect Marcus Lucius to talk to her. He was looking at her and she caught his gaze. She wasn't sure whether he knew who she was. He called his wife's name sometimes when he was starring at her. It confused her. At first, she continued saying him, she is not Decima. She introduced herself every time he spoke to her with a smile. Then, after a couple of days, she gave up and ignored it. Octavian said that as long as Marcus Lucius was deeply wounded and hallucinated, it was possible that he mixed up names, people, occurrences. Octavian also said that Marcus Lucius could lose his memories and that it was possible that they were coming back with time. Now, Julia wondered why Marcus Lucius didn't call her Decima again. He didn't use any name. He simply gave a statement.

  -How are you doing? - She asked shy and helped him to drink water.

  He seemed to thank her with his look in the eyes. There was a kind of dashed fire that increased when he communicated with her. Preferably, she would have stepped back, when he was talkin
g to her. However, he kept holding her hand for hours and every time she tried to take it back, his grasp became stronger. He didn't want to let her go. She didn't feel uncomfortable enough to go away, so she kept sitting next to him and let him hold her fingers. It made him calmer. It was important to her. She liked him, when he slept like a baby and breathed regularly. When he was calm, she could relax, too. She hasn’t felt so good since she left her home in her father's villa in Naples. It was months ago. For more than a half a year, she was on the road. She wanted to rest somewhere.

  She missed the places where she used to spend time. She loved to stay hidden in the part of the garden she called “her secret empire” and spent there any free minute. It was her ultimate getaway spot. She was her father’s only daughter. She had three brothers, who served in the army. Until Maxentius came, nobody was interested in what she did. She could stay in the garden for hours. She avoided any pressure by her mother and got out of the way of any requests, orders and further obligations, she didn't like. This worked well up to the day, she had to marry Maxentius. From that moment on, everything changed. Her freedom was gone. She felt robbed and mugged. Every memory hurt and made her nervous. Her pulse raised and her hand started sweating.

  -You're not good.

  She heard Marcus Lucius speaking for the second time and she noticed, she hadn’t answered his questions and he didn't reply to her question. He didn't say many words in the last two weeks, despite the rare, short moments of getting back his consciousness.

  -I'm fine. - She said hastily.

  She didn't like the situation. She wanted to hedge and win a comfortable distance. Her voice sounded determined and surprisingly cold. He didn't expect her to talk in such a reserved way. Therefore, he didn't mention her chaotic pulse he felt while holding her hand or the sweat drops that appeared suddenly. Additionally, the years of living within a group of soldiers taught him to keep silence about uneasy topics. He simply knew she didn't want to talk about anything. It was fair enough.

  -How are you? - She repeated her question as she tried to bring the conversation round to another point.

  -I'm fine. - He answered slowly. He wasn't sure whether she noticed his pain, because he wasn't sure how his face expression looked like. He tried to control himself, mostly he succeeded.

  A serious, heavy silence filled the room. It was a strange situation, so both of them stayed concentrated on their own thoughts. They didn't look at each other, but he kept holding her hand. She was able to percept his heartbeat then. She sat down on the floor and had to stretch her arm so that he could hold her fingers on his chest. She stared at the opposite wall and wished that Marcus Lucius stayed unconscious. She liked to take care of him, but it was easier when he had lost senses. She liked his smell, even though the medicine she got from Octavian stunk. Still, Marcus Lucius smelled desirable. She liked to touch his skin. Secretly she stroked him more than required to clean the wounds or to check his health condition.

  Marcus Lucius analysed what he knew about how he get into a wagon with an unknown girl. The last thing he clearly remembered was holding Decima in his arms. Actually, it was just the body of Decima. She was dead. Her throat was cut and the blood managed already to take a stable form. She was long dead when he arrived. The corpse bride laid next to the bed where they used to sleep together, when Marcus Lucius was in town. Her dark blue legs were crossed in a way that would be painful for every normal, healthy human being. Marcus Lucius saw that they were broken. Her nose was red and extremely huge. It was broken as well. Her mouth was full of congealed blood. It looked so artificial and improbable that he was almost sure it couldn't be true. The lines of rigid blood marked the way of her suffering. Probably, she was slapped in the face at first, then, her legs were broken and in the end, her throat was cut. Marcus Lucius wanted to hope that she didn't suffer for long, but it wasn't so obvious. He wanted to know why she was mistreated and why it all happened. He held her cold, stark body and he was extremely upset and increasingly furious. He could kill the whole world if he wouldn't keep holding Decima's body in his arms.

  He wasn't sure how long he stayed in the apartment. On Decima's wish, they owned an apartment in a multi story apartment block called insulae that catered to a wide range of residential situations. Decima didn't feel well in the country villa of Marcus Lucius's mother located in the hills outside of the city that never slept. Decima wanted to stay in Rome, in the proud, noble city, where even the buildings were solely intended for large scale accommodation with several floors in height and showed the dignity and grace of the Roman Empire. Marcus Lucius thought that he could have convinced her to live in the villa, where everyone was safe. Nobody would have dared to attack or to wound citizens living there. A murder in a multi story apartment block was more probable, because of the amount of people there.

  He remembered how his wife's best friend came shyly into the room and looked shocked at Marcus Lucius and Decima. Verina was an average woman in her early 30ies with first wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She had brown eyes and a corpulent body. Most of the times her hair was put together and she smiled often. She wasn't obese, even if she had a round face and portly fingers. Her shocked eyes tried to analyse the situation.

  -I have no idea who did it in particular, but I have to go and find the principal of the order.

  Marcus Lucius wasn’t aware how rough, serious and frightening his tone was. Verina nodded automatically. She didn't expect him to be a murderer and she wanted him to have his revenge. She knew he was a good man, even if he was mostly away from his wife. She was aware that Roman soldiers weren't able to spend as much time with their families as they wanted.

  In the last months, after Emperor Trajan died, there were rumours that he never officially designated Hadrian as the new emperor. But apparently according to Trajan's wife, Pompeia Plotina, Trajan had named Hadrian as successor right before his death. It was just a few days ago and nobody was even sure how long the new emperor might stay in his position. The emperor's guard had more important problems than looking after the murder of Decima or following her husband, who apparently knew who killed his wife.

  -So go, and have your revenge. - She said after a moment of contemplation. - I'll take care about her.

  Marcus Lucius was sure that Verina meant it seriously and therefore, he didn't wait any longer. He kissed his wife forever-goodbye and run out of the apartment he never regarded as his home. He wanted to go back to Quintus and kill him in a way as long and painful as possible. That was his plan. He thought about millions of possibilities how to put his plan into action. The analysis of these various opportunities made him calmer. Nobody should challenge a good warrior in such way without taking into account his bloody, inevitable revenge.

  He thought about the most complicated injuries he could imagine. As much blood as possible should flow. A red massacre could be a good match. Marcus Lucius didn't know that haemoglobin with four heme groups was the principal determinant of the exact colour of blood due to their interaction. He simply knew that a specific shade of blood was seen on the dead people or when the wound was already closed. He knew scabs and lesions of different calibre, but he hadn't experienced deep wounds himself – up to now. However, he had already seen deadly wounded. He was used to see them in the battle fields. He noticed that fresh, arterial and capillary blood was bright red, even if he didn't know that oxygen imparted a strong red colour to the heme group. Such injuries led to a fast death. It wasn't planned. He had to watch out and shouldn't lose self-control, if he wanted Quintus to suffer extensively. Marcus Lucius observed people who got wounded, including himself. It was fascinating and his interest started when he was a boy. During his stay in Britannia, he saw some injured soldiers. Sometimes, he accompanied the camp medico and got explanation about mysterious fluids. Already at that time, he saw some of the wounded persons alive again and sometimes, he didn't. Even without explanation, he knew that some didn't survive and died. It wasn't brutal. It was a part of life. It
was a daily routine, when you were in a Roman camp with soldiers patrolling the surrounding and keeping the kind of peaceful regime with rare, but brutal resistance. There were some camps with increased numbers of dangerous incidents and there, legionnaires were injured badly every now and then while they served the empire.

  Anyway, he thought about thousands of ways of how to kill Quintus in the most brutal, painful way. Marcus Lucius didn't remember much of the last days, but he knew exactly how he got invited to Quintus's tent. Usually, they met each other more or less regularly and talked about this and that. They remembered how Marcus Lucius came into the army at the age of 15. Due to his developed skills and already trained techniques, he was sent to a group of older soldiers. Quintus was one of them. Quintus was five years older and some centimetres taller until Marcus Lucius was 18. Quintus wasn't the best warrior. He preferred to be the strategic leader of the group. He was goal-oriented and loved to play a game, where you draw a map of the empire on the ground and set your wooden armies. You could move your army in turns, depending on how many players were involved. The primary object of the game was the domination of the world or occupying every territory on the board, drawn on the ground, and in so doing, eliminate all other players. Mostly, they used to recreate the initial situation of the famous battles like the Battle of Aricia, where consul Publius Servilius Priscus defeated the Aurunci or the Battle of Pydna, when the Romans under Lucius Aemilius Paullus Macedonicus defeated and captured the Macedonian King Perseus, and which ended the Third Macedonian War. Quintus used to challenge everyone to play with him. Often, the soldiers met after the training and played the same game over more evenings. When Quintus was concentrated, he used to squeeze a lot. He planned ahead and he knew some sneaky tricks to win. His strategy was impressive. His wins were respectless. Every time he won, he celebrated his victory by humiliating other players. There were minor, diminutive remarks with the special, unmissable undertone that exhibited the sarcastic, degrading, incalculable background of Quintus's thoughts. Still, Quintus was a nice, reliable soldier, so legionnaires overlooked the irony of his free time. There were many evenings that could be spent in a more boring way. Every kind of entertainment was welcomed to take the minds off things which created the daily routine of a soldier's life. What else were they suppose to do during long, underemployed evenings, while their wives, children, other family members and houses were far, far away from the camp?

  Once, Quintus wanted to play with Marcus Lucius. Already for a longer while, Quintus tried to get Marcus Lucius involved in the game. There were uncountable times of attempts to convince him to take part in a puzzle game. Marcus Lucius often stood and watched how the other played, but he avoided being an active player. Marcus Lucius observed how Quintus won the new Battle of Campania, a slave revolt led by Spartacus, where the Roman army was defeated originally, but with skills and intellect of Quintus, it wasn't confirmed. With minimalistic moves, with complex strategic moves, Quintus needed almost two weeks to win the hypothetical battle. Quintus was tired, but extremely happy and typically for him – unpleasant. Marcus Lucius didn't comment it, he simply stood behind Antonius and his head showed refusal even without any, even dainty movement. His look was straight, unsatisfied, dissenting. His face was cold, emotionless. Just his eyes betrayed the disagreement. Quintus used the moment and suggested Marcus Lucius to play another game. After a few seconds without any reaction of Marcus Lucius and raising tension of Quintus, the situation eased. Marcus Lucius agreed and one of the most famous duels begun.

  Quintus took over the whole preparation. The line-up was set. The Battle of Aquilonia should be imitated. It was fought between the Roman Republic and the Samnites in 293 BC, near the current city of Aquilonia in Campania (southern Italy). The Romans, led by the Consuls Lucius Papirius Cursor and Spurius Carvilius Maximus, were victorious.

  Usually, just a few legionnaires watched the course of the game, because Quintus used to be the ultimate winner. With the time, it became predictable and therefore, boring. Quintus won over everyone from his legion except Marcus Lucius. Antonius and Furius tried their luck five times and weren't motivated to play and to lose again. Postumus, Servius and Vibius tried to win regularly, but they didn't manage to succeed. The other legionnaires gave up after they had lost once. Marcus Lucius was the only one, who had never played the game. He was the youngest in the legion and he was able to fight very well. During the training, he won almost every duel often by using the power of his enemy. It was a pleasure to watch his movements. He was known as the worthy, adequate son of Maximus. In the meanwhile, Marcus Lucius got used to the heritage connected to his father's name. On that one day, his strategical skills were requested. Everyone was excited to see who might win.

  When the game started, Marcus Lucius and Quintus sat opposite each other. Quintus squinted his eyes and observed the rival attentively. Marcus Lucius looked relaxed. Around them, almost twenty legionnaires gathered and watched the two soldiers playing. The game started very slowly. At first, both of them starred at the drawn map of the empire. It was known that the Samnite line held its own for a long while during the battle. The situation changed, when a cloud of dust caused by Papirius's auxilia cavalry frightened the Samnites.

  Marcus Lucius was in the less comfortable position and had to lead the Samnite line. Quintus wondered aloud how Marcus Lucius would like to be in charge of the losers, he laughed and repeated the same phrases. Marcus Lucius didn't react and stayed focussed on the game. With every further evening, more and more soldiers gathered around them and watched how concentrated he was. He didn't act rapidly. He thought over in calmness and ignored the more or less indirect hints of the spectators. Quintus used the mood of the mass of legionnaires around them and fed the crowd with his ironic remarks. Normally, such intimidating tactic worked successfully, but Marcus Lucius ignored the words, the laugher and loudness around him. Even if he understood the sentences spoken aloud, he didn't value them as important, so he simply blanked them out. The more chaotically the surrounding was, the calmer Marcus Lucius got and the more nervous Quintus became. It took almost three weeks with pauses for trainings, patrolling and eating breaks, before the winner was determined. Surprisingly, Marcus Lucius won within a hair's breadth. The more Quintus saw his limited, hopeless range of further moves, the more desperate he looked. His heartbeat rushed crazily, heavily, unexpectedly. His eyes were small like two crevices between two pages of a book. His pupils moved hastily. Marcus Lucius wasn't able to describe Quintus's reaction in any scientific way. If he could, he would confirm that Quintus's onset of a stress response was associated with specific physiological actions in the sympathetic nervous system, including the directly and indirectly release of adrenaline and extended noradrenaline. These hormones facilitated immediate physical reactions by triggering increases in heart rate and breathing, as well as constricting blood vessels. What Marcus Lucius was able to describe was the strong feeling that Quintus wished strongly to escape or disappear intuitively, spontaneously.

  If Quintus's look could be compared to anything in the moment he lost the game, then it could only be compared to Medusa's power. Gazing directly upon him would turn onlookers to stone. His eyes were focussed on Marcus Lucius in a way that would force everybody to think about taking a strategic, self-protective position. Marcus Lucius didn't move, however followed cautiously every tiny movement of Quintus. Every blink of an eye, every breath coming from his lungs, every movement of his pupil was perceived by a silent, emotionless Marcus Lucius. The winner didn't look condescendingly, disdainfully. On the contrary, Marcus Lucius was kind of calm and noble in his silent victory. He didn't look surprised or happy. He simply stood up and thanked for the good, fair game in the same way, he used to show his thankfulness after every training in a sign of respect and appreciation for others.

  -You were simply lucky bastard. - Quintus said teeth-gnashingly like an angry child.

  Marcus Lucius didn't react. Instead, he wanted to leave the place, h
e noticed the masses of soldiers around. He had the impression that the whole camp was present at that time and that everyone was watching not only how the match ended, but also how the winner may react. Some talked or whispered conspirationally with each other. Marcus Lucius captured many different looks and one thought build up in his head: nothing would be the same as before the game. This impression was confirmed soon. Suddenly, he was taken to another group of legionnaires. Suddenly, some persons in the leading positions started inviting him to events after trainings, after patrolling. Marcus Lucius wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't clever to refuse such invitations, but it wasn't his intended way to climb up in the camp structure. His father said once that the higher you get, the more painful and surprising the fall could be. Marcus Lucius wasn't interested in falling down or making a career, even if his mother kept pushing him into this direction. Nothing could make Marcus Lucius change his attitude. He wished for a simple family and straight trainings. He wished for a normal, average life. The claim was not accepted.

  After he went to some strictly chosen events, he got a nomination to be a candidate as a tribune. He wasn't happy about it. Tribune was a title shared by elected officials in the Roman Republic. It scared him a bit. He didn't intend to support his candidature and he stepped back as far as he could. The claim was not accepted. He became tribune, the youngest tribune in the history, and it happened against his will. As a respectful and dutiful person, he took it calmly and quietly. He ignored his mother's explosion of happiness and pride. Tribunes had the specific power to intervene legally on behalf of plebeians. They special strength however was only in effect within the city of Rome and not within regional governments. It was the only positive point of the new position. Therefore, he wanted to go leave Rome and stay in Ostia.

  The city of Ostia wasn't the worst choice, but it was unwillingly too near to Rome and too dependent from Rome. It grew on the site of a Roman camp, which had been situated at the exact spot where the river Tiber flowed into the sea. The soldiers in the camp were placed there to protect the coastline from enemy attacks. With the increase in traffic and commerce, and merchants coming with boats full of products to be sold in Rome, Ostia became the primary point for the sorting of goods before they headed to the most important city of the empire. It became necessary to extend or even build a new port in Ostia, protected by more soldiers. Marcus Lucius didn't like the chaos and rush hours crowded with legionnaires, travellers, sales people and craftsmen. The city was extremely lively, full of multi-lingual traffic, multi-religious temples and daily business deals.

  As he got the proposal to go to Thracia, established in AD 46, when the former Roman client state of Thrace was annexed by order of Emperor Claudius, Marcus Lucius agreed sooner than publicly expected to go there. He was satisfied for the very first time in his adulthood. He liked the Greek city-states on the coast of the Black Sea under Roman control. At his time, Thracia was an imperial province, initially headed by a procurator, and by a legatus Augusti pro praetore. Marcus Lucius was supposed to take over the position, but he wasn't completely convinced that the full range of Roman supervision was needed. He supported the internal structure of the old Thracian kingdom retained and only partially controlled by Romans. He was happy there and wanted Decima to move to the region. She wasn't prepared to do it. She was a girl from the biggest, most influential, crucial city and she acted like a villager held to his piece of ground for decades. Every time, he visited her, which was rare, because the travel took a month and was not only exerting, but also expensive, he hoped to be able to convince Decima to go with him to Thracia. The location was impressive, warm, and friendly. The Black Sea with its active, dynamic brackish, nutrient-rich marine ecosystem, was often just called "the Sea" or the “Hospitable sea”, Euxeinos Pontos, replacing an earlier “Inhospitable Sea”, Pontos Axeinos. It was difficult to navigate there because the shores were inhabited by savage tribes. Still, the winters were full of strong winds and the summers included a warm, shallow mixed layer. The climate was similar to the well-known Roman air, but with more freshness and fluency fulfilling the lungs with every breath. Even these similarities weren't able to convince Decima to move even one millimetre from the already known piece of ground. She was glued to Rome and it was impossible to fight against the virtual chains holding her as a slave of the city. Marcus Lucius didn't feel good, even if his mission in Thracia was successful and brought him peace of heart and a calm, restful sleep.

  He remembered the very first time he saw Decima. It was four years ago, the last time he got free time in Ostia and wanted to visit his mother to share the news about moving miles away from the known surrounding and extended obligations. As he walked through the tireless, vivid city, he met Decima for the first time. She stood on a market with two female friends, looking for things from her shopping list. She didn't look like noble ladies and she wasn't a slave. Her free nature and individual joy were fascinating. Actually, she could have sent some of her slaves to fulfil the task, but she apparently preferred doing it herself. Later, he got to know she was the daughter of a Roman citizen, who had lost everything in risky games. He was so indebted that he had to sell his slaves, valuables and anything possible to dispose of. He had three daughters and both of Decima’s older sisters were already married to simple men: one worked as sculptures and the other was carpenter. Decima used to live with her oldest sister and helped as much as possible.

  Marcus Lucius's mother was strictly against the relationship which was just another reason for him to accomplish the mission. Marcus Lucius wanted to marry Decima from the very first moment he saw her. She wasn't the first girl he saw, he used to be a womaniser for a while, but he gave up senseless, empty evenings with women and started thinking about a longterm relationship. His mother introduced him already many appropriate girls, but none of them caused such an impression on Marcus Lucius. Decima's smile was the first smile that made him feel better. This kind of feeling was new to him, so he followed Decima up to her sister's house. She ignored him at first, then, she looked back and smiled. She didn't say a word. When he asked for her name, she smiled, but kept silent. Within two days, he asked her to marry him, even though he didn't know her at all. She laughed about it, because it sounded like a joke. He was serious and as she got it, she nodded. He kissed her and accompanied her to her father's door. With Marcus Lucius's money, the entire debt was paid off. Decima moved to the villa of Marcus Lucius's mother and Marcus Lucius went to Thracia. He didn't notice the tension between his mother and Decima. He was surprised when he visited Rome after getting permission to visit his family. He used the time to marry the girl he was in love with and to kiss her even more than once. She was happy, trustworthy, unburdened when she made her fare-wells. He was lucky and unworried as he kissed her goodbye.

  Even marrying her didn't influence him to go back to the most powerful city. Even marrying him didn't influence Decima to move on to Thracia. Within the years, almost nothing happened. Marcus Lucius visited his wife once a year and spent few happy, relaxed days by her side. She welcomed him friendly, open, wistful. He adored her and complemented her in every sentence. Still, he was relieved when he could go back to his friends in the army camp. Even in the minimal time frame of freedom, he trained his body daily and ignored the events his mother organised in his honour. On his way back to the camp, he analysed how to solve the situation. Someone had to edge down. He wasn't ready to go back to Rome, she wasn't willing to move so far, far away from her beloved, domestic city. After a few years of serving the empire in Thracia, he politely asked, whether it was possible to be resettled closer to Rome, but still not too close. As he got permission to serve in Brigetio, he was satisfied for the second time. It was only two weeks away from Rome.

  The military camp Brigetio was a Roman military camp supervising a part of the Pannonian limes, which was a large section of the Roman Empire's border. Brigetio was in the area of the northern Hungarian town of Komárom. First, a cohort fort was founded and ext
ended to a military camp towards the end of the 1st Century AD. For strategic reasons, Emperor Claudius had chosen the location due to the crucial proximity to the mouth of Vah and the river Danube. The Vah was the largest tributary of the border section of the North Pannonian area. In the further eastern side of Komarno, the land raised to finally stand up as Gerecse Mountains. Brigetio also was an important road junction laying proudly, calmly on a major military and trade route that wriggled along the Danube and included Carnuntum and Aquincum, just two days away from each other if you were a messenger and four to five days if you were a merchant delivering goods.

  In the North part of the horizon of the military camp, the navigable rivers Vah and Nitra flowed from the northern Carpathians. It was more spectacular in contrast to the older cohort fort, and not built right on the banks of the Danube, probably due to the risk of extended river runoffs. However, the river port had been built to use the water as a means of transport. The Roman Danube fleet had a larger, important base in Brigetio. Compared to Ostia, the port was calmer and less chaotic. Marcus Lucius loved visiting it.

  Brigetio welcomed its guests with large, proud square gate towers as Porta Praetoria and Porta Decumana, as well as four corner towers at the massive, defensive walls. Then, you could see a rectangular floor plan with rounded corners in the form of playing cards and enclosing walls. In the centre, wooden barracks for four legions and two auxiliary cohorts were exposed, then, Praetorium, the residence of the Commander, and workshop stations, were settled. Not all legions were permanently stationed here. Some came here just for the hallmarks of bricks since the reign of Claudius. However, everybody knew that Britannica milliaria equitata, the first partly mounted double cohort of Britons Roman citizenship with power of 1,000 men, was located there. Originally, the cohort excavated in Britain, but since 89AD, it was assigned to Brigetio. Maybe therefore, Marcus Lucius felt so well there. The British influence reminded him about his stay in Britannia.

  Marcus Lucius remembered the sanctuary, where two life-size seated statues of Jupiter and Minerva observed silently, motionlessly the guests of the camp and a soldier's life. He used to go to the temple regularly. Not, because he was a very religious man, but to get a bit of silence. He became popular there, his merits from Thracia were widely and publicly known, even if he never spoke about it before and even though if his comments were limited to concrete, short answers. Legionnaires liked his easy, straight way of being. Marcus Lucius didn't use his position to show off and he stayed focussed on his trainings and meetings with soldiers no matter which rank they had.

  He used to spend his evenings with his friends. Happiness fulfilled him when he saw Quintus, the old friend from Ostia, and some other known legionnaires. Quintus often visited Brigetio as a message deliverer from Aquincum. From 40 AD, the area was brought completely under Roman control. A military camp like I. Tungrorum Frontonania and the province of Pannonia were built up quite fast. Near the camp, significant civil settlements were created over time. Marcus Lucius had chosen a piece of land free to build a villa and shape a garden with many green herbs and trees. Quintus gladly advised where the best places was for starting a happy, shiny family life.

  Before Marcus Lucius came to Brigetio, men used to play the game with Quintus that Marcus Lucius observed so often in Ostia. Quintus was still a good player and won many times. He only lost a few battles, mostly against the higher ranks, which wasn't a shame. Maybe he even let the other win, because defeating your boss mostly doesn't look good. When Marcus Lucius appeared, the game nights were cancelled unexpectedly. Professionally and continuously, Quintus didn't talk about it. Instead, he perfectly directed discussions to funnily enough topics related to Thracia. He made impression of being totally interested in what happened there and how Marcus Lucius became such a prominent, influential figure. Marcus Lucius tried to change the subject, because he didn't feel comfortable being everybody's darling.

  When he came to Brigetio, he was meant to be the representative of Titus, the military Praefectus castrorum, camp commandant, responsible for the general order. As Marcus Lucius found out quickly, Titus was a good friend of Appius, the best friend of Maximus. Marcus Lucius wondered how Appius came from Britannia to Aquincum. Even, if Appius still didn't manage to be tribune with his almost 50 years, he was respected and taken seriously at least in the same way as Titus. Even if Appius theoretically held the same rank as Marcus Lucius, even if there were almost 20 years difference between them, but Marcus Lucius felt obligated to honour him properly. It wasn't easy to keep the rules of being of the same value and level. It was strange for Marcus Lucius and Appius seemed to look at it more relaxed. Maybe it was due to his age. Maybe it was due to his personal attitude.

  Titus and Appius met each other regularly, mostly two, three times a month, alternating in Brigetio and in Aquincum, and such events were celebrated generally. Marcus Lucius saw Appius, the tall, slender and trained man, in Ostia a few times. When Marcus Lucius was in Thracia, they lost contact, and he was somewhat positively surprised by learning that Appius was stationed near to Brigetio. It was good to see him every now and then. It reminded Marcus Lucius of Maximus and the trainings in Britannia. He heard voices from that time telling him to be focussed on the basic rules, on the fundamental truths, simple, but effective moves.

  Marcus Lucius noticed how he was pushed into the army hierarchy against his will, but he really needed to move towards Rome. He was motivated by Decima's promise to settle down near to the camp. He was overjoyed and dreamt about having a family with children and dogs in the backyard of the villa he wanted to buy. He already found a piece of land that suited perfectly to his plans.

  Shortly before the dream became reality, something horrible happened. Almost nobody knew what really happened, but there were many theories. All of them were wrong. Few said that Marcus Lucius simply deserted. Almost nobody was convinced about it. Marcus Lucius wasn't the type of soldier who would simply give up everything spontaneously, one day, without any reason. Some said that Marcus Lucius went back to Thracia. Neither Titus nor Appius confirmed it. On the opposite, they denied it rigorously. Some said that Marcus Lucius was murdered and met his father in the afterlife. It seemed very probable, but nobody had any idea how it could have happened. Marcus Lucius was well trained, he was quick, he was talented. He had to be killed, but by whom? His soldiers missed him. They kept silent and waited for any sign that could give some certainty – no matter whether it was about a death or the survival.

  The meeting of Appius and Titus just a few days after the incident with Marcus Lucius, was ill-fated. Appius swallowed strongly, strenuously, silently. Titus tried to analyse every possibility in a conspiratorial whisper. They both sat close to a table with delicious food, but nobody ate anything. Titus, a man round like a globe, neither tall, nor short, with red cheeks and motile, nasty eyes, seemed to be confused, even crushed. He was known as an unforgiving, but upright commanding officer, who took care of his men. The desertion of Marcus Lucius was a rare case of insubordination, given it was indeed an act of desertion. If something else had happened, Titus wanted to know what was going on in the darkest corners of his camp. He was twisted, annoyed and could hardly handle the situation. Due to the lack of information, he wasn't able to check what he was missing and what was going on. Titus sat wriggling and Appius concentrated on his trembling body. It made him nervous seeing a friend in such a mood. It was disturbing and for some reasons, Appius wasn't able to speak about the support he gave Marcus Lucius. Maybe, he wanted to protect Titus from being a part of a risky plan. It was already dangerous to think about creating such a plan and it was extremely, immensely bad to be involved in it.

  Appius analysed the crucial scene, which totally changed his life. It all started with the announcement that the rather less popular and recognized Maxentius Claudius from the Claudii family was supposed to visit Aquincum with his new wife, Julia Fabia, the lesser known daughter of Julius of the Fabii family. It was remarkable that Max
entius managed to step into a family that held considerable power, perhaps almost total power, for much of the early Republic until the defeat at Veii. Even after that time, with their family so depleted, the only survivors carried awesome auctoritas only due to their illustrious name. Maxentius wasn't the brave or paradigmatic person you wish to use to upgrade your social position. On the opposite, Maxentius didn't manage to prove his military skills in the army structure and he wasn't from a well-known, respected family. There had to be a crucial, hidden reason why these two got married.

  Appius tried to get to the bottom of this issue when Maxentius visited him few days ago. He wasn't successful. Apparently, Maxentius's wish or goal was to present his beautiful, young wife, Julia to everyone, just to emphasise his new position. On the way to Britannia, Maxentius visited his old friends and expected a privileged acceptance from the local hosts. He already upgraded his backs by marrying up and extended his already quite developed attitude towards others.

  It wasn't pleasant and easy to control yourself and keep smiling politely. Being politically correct wasn't the strength of Appius and everyone knew it. For his impulsive, direct way, he used to be overseen by superiors and put into question by colleagues during elections of tribunes or legates. Appius was a perfect teacher and he was respected for his educative contributions. He trained the youth and his straight, sometimes brutal way helped his pupils to find their way in the new, unfamiliar surroundings.

  While he was looking at Julia, he saw a girl sweet as sugar, nice as the goddess of flowers and nature, Flora. Her innocent look was broken and her own will was dashed in her eyes. She was sitting as far away from her husband as it was possible without making it look impolite or unwanted. Her fingers trembled nervously and sometimes, her right eyelid shivered irritated. Her smile was neither bright nor minimal, and even if it didn't look like put-on, it was definitely pretended. She was the proud daughter of a noble, respected man and she didn't want to harm her father's position by showing off her unhappiness. Appius thought it was allowed to debate, disagree and negotiate with women – respectfully. Even if he didn’t have many relationships with females, he treated them as ordinary persons. If he had a wife or daughters, he would have wished them to be more than usually expected, which was: simply being nice, conflict avoiding, not upsetting others and not challenging the status quo. He was one of the few representatives of such attitude.

  Maybe therefore, Marcus Lucius loved Decima. She didn't possess extended knowledge of geometry, literature, and philosophy like the noble Roman ladies, who Marcus Lucius normally met. Still, Decima was forthright, square. As she didn't want to move from Rome, she said it directly. She mostly didn't argue at all, but it was important to her to stay in the well-known surrounding. For the very first time, she expressed her contrary point of view. She didn't intend to oppose as a matter of principle, but she spoke from conviction. She was at least true and straightforward in a short way of saying more than simple “No”, instead exerted to “I don't like it.” He respected it. He accepted it. He left her the freedom of choice.

  While he stared at Julia sitting on the floor of the trembling wagon, he started losing his consciousness. The surrounding became blurry, shifted out of focus. Instead of a sad, but still friendly face of Julia, he saw a skin coloured taint with dark strains of hair around it, with light blue speck instead of an average stola, a long, pleated dress, worn over an undergarment called a tunic. It was the traditional garment of Roman women and corresponded to the male toga or the pallium. Julia wore a version with sleeves and ribbons decorated with dainty ornaments. Marcus Lucius wasn't able to see the tiny little patterns anymore. The patterns made the dress unique and showed the high value of it. Seeing the blurry spots, the dress looked ordinary, like Decima's dress.

  He didn't feel the sweat drops on his forehead and his neck. He didn't feel neither warmth nor coldness anymore. Having lost his senses, he wasn’t aware how Octavian argued with Julia. It was right after the moment Julia noticed Marcus Lucius's mental absence. She screamed after Octavian, she wanted him to come back into the wagon and “do something” that could help Marcus Lucius to get better. She yelled Octavian's name, because Appius ordered her to communicate just with Octavian or Nerva. Nerva was the messenger, who brought letters from Appius, quoted Appius's utterances and Octavian's statements. Nerva was always on the run, barely to meet. When he caught up with the convoy during the following weeks, the first thing he had to do was take a rest, he never kept the guard in the first night. He was full of sweat drops, but he smiled, somehow friendly. Whenever he saw Julia, he stopped to talk to her and nodded with his head to greet her. He was apparently quite popular, because everyone wanted to talk with him. He had fleeting talks with every soldier on his way. Julia wondered what they were talking about. He was direct and open, the total opposite of Octavian, the leader of the convoy, the one at the side of Julia and Marcus Lucius on the way to Britannia. Octavian was a tall, well-built legionnaire with blond, short hair and no smile on his lips. When he walked into the room, you could feel his cold, impersonal presence. He had deep ice-blue eyes and was of about the age of Marcus Lucius. He used only as many words as needed and didn't make use of empty phrases nor as magic words like “with all due respect” or “thank you”. He was in charge of the convoy after the Maxentius's guards were wounded and unable to travel. With an iron hand, he gave orders to stop or to travel on. It was not possible to judge how much he liked the position he got. He talked more with other legionnaires, mostly with soldiers from Appius's team. The new guards of the convoy were a mix of Maxentius's soldiers and legionnaires sent by Appius. Therefore, you could see various groups gathering during the evenings in front of a small fire place, who wished to keep watch together. There were more than twenty legionnaires, but just one of them was the direct contact person for Julia.

  Between all legionnaires, Octavian and Nerva were the two most trusted persons of Appius. Some of the other legionnaires were from the unit trained by him, but they weren't involved in the matter and according to the order it should stay this way. The more people were involved, the more probable leaks became. There was no space for misunderstandings and doubts due to the well-informed circle of people involved in the matter. Appius wanted to keep the secret circle closed and therefore, the entire communication should be over predefined persons. Therefore, Julia screamed Octavian's name as she bowed over unconscious the Marcus Lucius.

  Hearing her scream, Octavian stepped into the wagon immediately. Julia wondered how he managed to act so fast, but it didn't concern her as much as the unconsciousness of Marcus Lucius. Additionally, the wound on his chest started bleeding and the bandages turned dangerously, suspiciously red. Octavian jumped over to Marcus Lucius. He pushed Julia aside, ripped off the bandages and looked briefly at the wounds. They had already been treated by a medico on the way, so Octavian knew that it was the last moment to use the old, reviewed methods.

  Within heartfelt minutes, Octavian arranged the entire convoy to stop. Then, he waited until the camp fire was hot enough to heat an iron spear up until it glowed red. Marcus Lucius stayed in his bed and didn't change his position. Julia stared, opened her mouth shocked to the glowing iron in Octavian's hands. Behind him, two further soldiers followed. She was scared, but stepped into Octavian’s way and tried to prevent him from what he apparently intended to do.

  -Go away. - He ordered strictly and emotionless and pushed her away again. This time he did it rougher and stronger than before. At the same time, he gestured to the soldiers behind and they came closer.

  Julia fell to the side, but stood up. Within seconds, she stood directly in front of him again. Her eyes showed determination to step into Octavian's way as long and as often as necessary to stop him.

  -You can't do this! You can't harm him!

  -Woman, if I won't do this, his wound won't heal. Go away. - He repeated his command with the same emotionless attitude. However, he didn't scream at her. His voice remained cold
and calculated as usual. With another wink of his hand, he ordered one of his soldiers to keep Julia away from him.

  Julia tried to stop him, she screamed and moved hastily, but Octavian menaced to throw her out of the wagon, if she wouldn't stay calm. His tensed body language confirmed the serious words coming out of his mouth. Julia wasn't happy about it, but she stayed calm as ordered held back by a tall, calm legionnaire with an unpleasant smell. She watched how Octavian’s second supporter pressed Marcus Lucius’s body onto the bed with both hands and how Octavian placed the iron on his chest. Marcus Lucius woke up for a moment and yelled in pain. His look was blurry, disorientated, inhuman. Julia suffered with him. She observed that Marcus Lucius was too weak to fight against Octavian and his man. Instead, he let them burn out the wound with the glowing, hot iron piece. Just for looking at the scene, Julia fainted. Her skin was colourless. Her breath was short. Her anger was rising increasingly. She was so furious that she wasn’t able to scream anymore.

  Julia remembered her dog and the moment, her father killed the animal. It had the same kind of look in the eyes. She was afraid that Marcus Lucius would not survive it. Her anxiety rose exponentially to her anger. Octavian put the iron away and ordered to decrease the pressure on Marcus Lucius's shoulder immediately. The soldier, who held her tight, let her go and left the wagon. The other legionnaire followed. Octavian stood emotionless over Marcus Lucius, who was unconscious again. Julia stepped to him and beat twice on Octavian's chest, but this action could not bring her any advantages. Octavian pushed her away and didn't seem to be hurt or even nerved about the sudden attack.

  -Let me know when he gets back to his senses. - He ordered as he left the wagon and came back with a bottle of alcohol. - And use this to wash his wound. - Octavian added hastily.

  Julia wanted to kill Octavian with her look, if it was only possible. She caught the thrown bottle and turned her back to the man she hated at the moment. The wagon door was closed quite loudly, quickly, nervously, with one movement. Octavian seemed to be irritated, too. It was the only good thing in Julia's eyes.

  Julia stepped forward to Marcus Lucius's body and looked at the burned skin. It smelled awful and she had to fight against vomiting. She opened the bottle with the alcohol and took a swig. Her throat burned and her head pulsated like a highly magnetized, rotating neutron star that emits a beam of electromagnetic radiation like the one observed by Jocelyn Bell Burnell and Antony Hewish in 1967. However, Julia would describe her pain as regular, not pulsating, rather the standard type like nearly all headaches known to humanity since the human race occurred after the Big Bang. She had typical primary disorders such as tension-type headaches, no migraine. As described in modern medicine books the pain radiated from the lower back of the head, the neck, the eyes, and other muscle groups in the body. The symptoms only visualised her anger, disappointment and lack of hope and forced inhalation of the icky smell. She needed to rest, but there was no time. She knelt down next to Marcus Lucius and gazed at his wound for a while. Finally, she rose up and cautiously, sedulously, tirelessly cleaned millimetre after millimetre of his skin around the chest injury. The room smelled of burned human flesh mixed with alcohol, an awful combination. She inhaled the odour and her headache grew stronger.

  Then, she carefully cleaned the wound itself. Her head and the rest of her body felt hot like an exploding volcano, so she wasn't able to estimate how high Marcus Lucius's fever was. She wiped off his sweat drops and then started her cleaning tour again. Somewhere, in the middle of the procedure, she stopped and gazed at Marcus Lucius. His face looked tired, his beard has not been shaven for at least two weeks and his nose moved minimally, what proved that he was still breathing. She was relieved, but still tensed.

  After the fourth round of cleaning and one additional longer pause, during which Julia didn't even leave the wagon, the girl noticed that Marcus Lucius moved a bit. His arm changed position and he quietly sighed a few times. When she moved slightly, she felt how Marcus Lucius caught her arm and kept holding strongly, determined. When he opened his eyes and won back the clearness of sight, he eased the grip and finally let her go. However, his eyes were focused on her. He seemed not to know where he was and what he was doing here. Julia could firmly read the question marks in his look.

  -We're on the way to Britannia as Appius ordered. Your wound bled heavily. - She started explaining while Marcus Lucius touched his naked breast and wondered about the burned skin without saying something. Apparently, he ignored her words. He didn't even nod pretending to listen. Instead, he simply examined his chest and the burned injury. It took his entire attention.

  Julia was ashamed, because she blamed herself for not being able to stop Octavian from burning Marcus Lucius’s chest. The way he gazed at the injury made her think that he could be annoyed and think she didn't act properly. It was her duty to protect him, when he wasn't able to do it himself. She had to put more effort into this. She felt completely guilty and stopped talking. Her last words sounded rather rachitic than normal.

  Suddenly, he looked at her and his eyes were clear and focussed. He collected his thoughts and memories. He didn't need any additional help from her to know what was going on.

  -Tell Octavian it's good. - He whispered with a dry mouth. She gave him water and he swallowed a few times.

  -Now? - She wondered, because his request wasn't clear enough.

  He minimally shook his head.

  -When he comes... - He added and he kept looking at her. - Don't go away now.

  She nodded and simply kept sitting next to him. She watched how he became sleepy. His voice sounded nice, pleasant. It wasn't cold as Octavian's. She wanted to hear more, but he didn't share his further thoughts with her. Apparently, all soldiers counted and limited their words automatically as if they were gold coins. Julia wasn't sure what she should think. She wasn't brave enough to step forward and to look at Marcus Lucius's chest from a closer distance. He could wake up any moment. It was too risky. But her curiosity brought her to the limits of her patience. She waited until Marcus Lucius fell deeper asleep and when she was absolutely sure he wasn't able to perceive her at all, she looked at the burned part. It indeed looked better now. However, it was still disgusting, foul. Noisome odour was in the air even through the alcohol smell.

  After Marcus Lucius fell asleep, Julia felt sleepy as well. However, she was a dutiful person, so she knocked on the wagon's door and waited for it to stop. As expected, Octavian stepped into the room and shortly analysed the situation.

  -He'll get better now. The wound will finally heal. - He judged after a quick look at Marcus Lucius's chest. Then, he covered the injury with a piece of material.

  -We should have done it already at the beginning of the journey... - He added, and the stopped talking as if he thought about further things.

  Julia wasn't able to read his mind. The soldier was concerned, but it wasn't about the wound as Julia felt. The spoken sentences were directed straight to her. They were supposed to calm her down and give some relief, or even new joy. It didn't work, because Julia was still mad at Octavian. She was still convinced that this burning method was cruel and unnecessary. Additionally, she didn't like to be pushed aside so brutally. First signs of upcoming bruises showed on her body and she was relieved that her dress covered the affected parts of her skin. She ignored the legionnaire as far as it was possible. She wanted him to feel her anger. Octavian noticed it and left the wagon. This time, he tried not to touch her at all. As Julia felt the wiggling again, she knew that they were on the way again. It was a good sign.

  The days passed by routinely. Every morning, Julia went out of the wagon and while the legionnaires were still asleep, she went here and there to stretch her legs and arms. It didn't matter whether it rained or not - she enjoyed the moment the same way. As soon as the sun showed itself completely, she looked for hideout in the wagon. Then, Marcus Lucius woke up shortly and said “Good morning” with a dry throat. She gave him water and with time, a
piece of bread and things the medico gave to Octavian. The second medico was brought in by Nerva just two days after Octavian had burned the wound. Julia wasn't allowed to be present while the medico checked Marcus Lucius's condition. New glasses with further stinking substances of strange consistency were left with him and some herbal mixtures to drink were prescribed for daily use.

  After Marcus Lucius got his medicine, he fell asleep and Julia took care about his hygiene. She washed him and rubbed the new substances into his body. Definitely, he was the cleanest man in the convoy. Octavian and other legionnaires always had signs of being on the road in their faces. Some dust and sweat glued to them. During the three weeks of the journey, they had no possibility to take a bath. They used lakes or rivers on the way, but it was rather a rare occasion. Julia felt dirty, too. She was the only woman in the convoy. It wasn't comfortable to go and completely wash herself, when she knew that her guards would follow her. It was embarrassing, so she rather lived with the dirt than the looks of the men at her naked body.

  When she finished the cleaning tour of Marcus Lucius's body, she sat down on the floor and drank a bit of water. Even then, she cautiously observed the beautiful stranger. He slept a lot. His breath was regular, and therefore, his chest kept moving rhythmically. This calmed her down. Sometimes, she went closer and inhaled the scent of his skin. Even the stinking, icky substances didn't completely cover his own scent. Julia liked it and she enjoyed the rare moments, when she collected enough courage to sniff, always anxious that Marcus Lucius could wake up any moment. Maxentius didn't smell good. He stunk like sweat and an undefined icky thing. It wasn't a pleasure to bide long next to him.

  Sometimes she could even gather enough courage to stroke Marcus Lucius's neck and a part of his shoulder. She did it briefly, almost non-perceptively. His skin was pleasant, even when rough and full of small scratches. He was well trained and it was impressive. These arms she barely touched, protected her during the ambush. These fingers held the heavy sword partially covered with blood and this hand moved the weapon perfectly, magically, beautifully. She liked him being asleep or unconscious.

  The whole daily routine was quite predictable. Julia stayed at Marcus Lucius's side and tried to minimize the time outside the wagon, even though the space there was limited and could make you claustrophobic after over a week spent in there. Still, Julia liked familiar spaces, rooms, surroundings. She used to stay at her father's home for almost whole life. Then, she had to travel with Maxentius and being on the road with him was horrible to her. The wagon was like a trap to her, a cage, a limited space, where she wasn't able to breathe. She hated it. Now, she felt free here. It was the same wagon with the same limited space, but she felt good. She felt safe. She wished to keep this state for eternity. She knew it was impossible, but still, she savoured the nice illusion.

  Octavian came into the wagon twice a day: shortly after the legionnaires woke up and again after the stretch of way for the day was finished. He didn't speak, he simply looked around, checked Marcus Lucius's condition and left the wagon. His brief visits marked the beginning and the end of the day. He was on time and reliable like the sunrise or a Swiss watch.

  Until noon, Julia washed Marcus Lucius and rubbed the special mixtures in his body. She wasn't able to define the improvements of Marcus Lucius's health condition from day to day, but looking at him every now and then made her assume that he was better with every minute. She was happy about it. It meant she did a good job. Besides, the burned part looked better and better, so it meant that Octavian's action was right, too. She wasn't ready to apologize for all the unspoken insults she addressed at him during the last days.

  In the late afternoon, Julia used to have a nap, because she wasn't able to sleep during the nights. She sat on the floor of the wagon, next to the bed, where Marcus Lucius was sleeping, with her head on her knees. From there, she was able to look out through the small window of the wagon and focused on the shadows of the nature outside. While she momentarily nodded off, her head kept falling to her right shoulder. When her legs fell more to the ground and she lost her balance, she woke up.

  She didn’t drink enough water and almost didn't eat anything at all. She was losing weight, but it didn't catch anyone's attention, because almost nobody saw her. She used to have a normal body, neither slim, nor fat. Now, her arms were more slender and her bones were visible beneath the skin.

  When they arrived at Gesoriacum (also Bononia), a Roman port city on the English Channel important for Classis Britannica, where Caligula stayed over, before he travelled to the island, Julia saw a light house built based on directions of Caligula. Julia had already seen some port cities in her life, but she was always impressed by the great architecture and technical progress of the Romans.

  When Octavian stepped into the wagon, Julia retreated to the furthest corner as she usually did. He was convinced that she was scared of him and he didn't intend to hurt her at all. He noticed some bruises on her arms that she got after he pushed her away twice, and he was ashamed of it. He didn't apologize, because he simply couldn't find suitable words. However, Julia wasn't scared, but rather ashamed that she wasn't able to say Octavian how sorry she was for her silly resistance.

  This time, there was no routine in Octavian's acting. He stayed in the middle of the wagon watching Marcus Lucius sleep.

  -We'll go to the ship directly. - He said silently.

  -A ship? - She seemed to be worried.

  -Yes, it's the fastest way to get to Eboracum. - Octavian confirmed and started at her curiously. He wondered what scared her more: he or the suggested means of transport. - If we would stay here, on the land, we would have to stay in the camp over night. The probability that we could be demasked is higher here. On the ship, you'll get a cabin and have your privacy. Ina few minutes, my men will come here and you'll get a litter carried by local slaves. We'll put Marcus Lucius on it and you'll get the second litter.

  Octavian's had a determined look, but not as cold as usually. Julia wondered what happened to him in the last days.

  -I don't need a special litter. I'll go next to him.

  Octavian wasn't happy about it, but he didn't intend to argue with her. He nodded once and stepped closer to Marcus Lucius. Within seconds, he woke the wounded man up and described the situation to him. Marcus Lucius showed his understanding of the plan.

  -Are you doing better? - Octavian asked quietly, almost too quiet for Julia to hear.

  Marcus Lucius nodded slightly. There was a special code between the two of them. Maybe it was due to the fact that they both learned under the command of Appius. Maybe it was just a sign of their special predisposition to understand each other.

  Julia stood just a few steps away and didn't understand the communication between them. She waited for the litter and then, as it was brought, she observed how Octavian helped to lift Marcus Lucius and shift him on the litter. Then he came to Julia and took her widest ribbon away. She wondered whether she should start struggling or let Octavian do what he wanted to do. As he went away with the ribbon, she was confused. She wanted an explanation, and got it in form of his action. Octavian put the ribbon on Marcus Lucius's head and covered his face with it. The material was transparent enough to let him breath, but it didn't allow strangers and uninitiated people recognise the face. Even though the litter had a kind of baldachin protecting Marcus Lucius from the unknown witnesses, Octavian wanted to double the protection. It wasn't just about the one wounded man, but about possible collateral damages involving many people, who were important to Octavian.

  He, personally, accompanied the litter to the ship and noticed how insecure Julia’s steps became the closer she came to the water. It was possible that nobody else noticed her tentativeness, but Octavian saw the girl already a couple of times in different situations and was able to judge whether she felt good or not while doing something. Even if he was just few meters away from her, he was able to feel her tension.

  Therefore, he wondered what ha
ppened next. As Julia's fragility increased and her legs became shaky just some centimetres in front of the wooden, provisory bridge between the ship and the land, a hand came out of the material curtain of the litter's baldachin. The strong, determined fingers grasped Julia's dainty hand. Marcus Lucius hold her carefully, but decisively. She wasn't able to see his face, she wasn't able to speak with him, but they communicated in the most secret way every human being could use: it was intuition and empathy. Or, you could say it was Marcus Lucius’s highly developed, sharp sense of observation.

  Julia didn't oppose and she didn't change her mimic. However, Octavian saw a sign of relief in her eyes. She looked anxiously around every now and then, but her step became steadier and less shaky. She held Marcus Lucius's hand as strong as she could. It was hard for her to let lose when Marcus Lucius had to be brought to the cabin and lifted onto the bed there. She was unsteady and waggly again, leaning on the wooden walls of the ship, thinking about every step. The ship wasn't sinking. It almost didn't move, but she acted as if the end of the world would come any moment.

  Octavian made sure that Marcus Lucius laid safely in the bed and wasn't recognized by anybody, then he sent away all guards and slaves from the room. They passed Julia on the stairs and greeted her for goodbye. She didn't answer and kept grasping on any kind of stable surface. She trembled and was convinced she would vomit immediately. As the last person passing by, Julia saw Octavian. He didn't pass her, but stretched his hand out to her. It was a peaceful offer, but Julia didn't easily accept it.

  -I don't need your help. - She sounded proud.

  -You do. Come along. - He answered in his typical cold way.

  She refused again. He remembered that he had mostly pushed her away or ignored her, so she had a good reason not to accept his offer, but she was indeed in need. As neither his statement nor a kind of order helped, he added what Marcus Lucius told him in the cabin just a moment ago:

  -It's Marcus Lucius's will.

  It was like 'open, O sesame', a magical phrase in the story of "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves" from One Thousand and One Nights. Julia stood frozen for a moment showing disbelief, then, she stretched out the hand and allowed Octavian to help her. His hand was rough as Marcus Lucius's. Surprisingly enough for Julia, Octavian was warm and pleasant to touch. She wondered when the resources of ice melted and changed into a pleasant surface.

  Octavian accompanied her to the cabin's door. He was pleased by her touch. Even though she didn't look at him and rather followed the wooden bars, he savoured her closeness. She smelled good, even though she didn't wash herself for days. Her hands were dainty and he could feel her bones. He wondered whether she was so bony from the moment he met her. She didn't look well, but it could be caused of her anxiety of being on a ship. He couldn't understand it, but he knew even soldiers who were scared in such situations.

  Stepping into the cabin, Julia looked for Marcus Lucius. She didn’t have to search long. The room was quite small, and didn’t have any windows. The bed was on the opposite side. Two lamps were hanging from the walls and the entire surrounding looked impersonal, strange, unfamiliar. It was quite dark here and Julia missed the sun or even a piece of the night heaven. Octavian took away his hand as fast as he could. Then, he closed the door behind him and left Julia alone with Marcus Lucius. She stood awkwardly, insecure next to the door and tried to lean on the nearest wall like a drunkard hugs every lantern on his way home. Her face was white and her hands trembled nervously. She was afraid she could fall any moment. She was definitely scared of water.

  Marcus Lucius lay on the bed, but his face wasn't covered by the ribbon anymore. He gazed at her without saying a word. As she fell to the ground, he tried to sit up and even stand up from the bed, but she reacted faster than he thought:

  -No, please, don't come here. I’m feeling well. I just can't stand here. - She whispered hastily, short-breathed as if she would have ran for miles.

  -Don't stay on the floor like a dog. Come here. - He answered without context. He sighed a bit, but he didn't show how painful the attempt to stand up had been for him. He stretched out his hand to her. There were just a few meters distance between them. Julia didn't react and kept laying there further pillowed by her arms.

  -Look me in the eye. - He ordered. - Look me in the eye, girl.

  She fought against her will, gazed at the wood over her. Finally, after Marcus Lucius repeated his words for the fourth or fifth time, she followed his order.

  -Good. Now, focus.

  She thought he had beautiful, brown eyes.

  -Focus, focus.

  As she nodded, he ordered her to crawl towards him.

  -Move slowly, there is no hurry.

  She thought his voice was very pleasant and soothing. Not listening to single words, but only to the melody of his sentences, she could stay on the floor for ages. She tried to stay concentrated on such thoughts just to distract her mind from thinking about what could happen to the ship. She was afraid of getting wet or splashed with water unexpectedly. The ship could sink any moment. It already wiggled, wobbled, moved. It didn't feel good. She wondered how others could rely on a piece of wood on a river. She was afraid of sinking with the ship. She used to avoid such activities as boating and swimming. If the ship sank, she would be helpless. She didn’t even have basic swimming skills. Her anxiety involved a level of fear that was far beyond her control. It made her totally uncomfortable. It was taking control over her and she wasn't able to fight against it. Therefore, she tried as much as possible to keep focussing on Marcus Lucius's voice.

  -Look me in the eye. - He said and gazed at her. She wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. It was so unconventional and constrained.

  She started moving in his direction, even if her body felt heavier and heavier with every centimetre. The floor wobbled and moved regularly and she waited for the ship to fall apart or at least to break. Her fingers trembled, her legs were like lead and her head pulsated quickly. She was shaken internally and out of mind.

  -Come closer. Come closer. - She heard Marcus Lucius's voice and against the thoughts in her head, she followed it. As she managed to touch the edge of the bed, she was covered in sweat, her eyes weren't focussed anymore. She was buggered; quite ready and simply dead beat. Indeed, her heart beat was dashing, speeding so fast that it would jump out of her chest, if she wouldn't have had rips around it.

  Marcus Lucius helped her to come into the bed and as her whole body trembled, he held her strongly by his side. He repeated “Hush, hush” as long as she needed to calm down. He stroke her hair and a part of her shoulder as long as she trembled. As she finally fell asleep after hours, he was totally tired. His movements became automatic, but he didn't stop taking care of her.

  He was aware that she was a strange girl, but she was the one who took care of him. Even if he wasn't conscious for the entire time she was by his side, he saw her almost in every conscious moment during the last days. He couldn't sleep when she was washing and cleaning him, because it was a soldier's reflex to be prepared for an attack anytime. However, he pretended to be asleep, because he had no idea what to talk about to her. He couldn't be bothered to talk about his past or motives or life's goals. He ran out of steam about exchanging empty phrases or deeply meaningful sentences. He had too many topics he didn't like to share, so it was easier to pretend being asleep. He kept his eyes closed and he didn't make any polite or impolite grimaces. He simply patiently let her do her job. And she was there. She took care of him. Already for that reason, he had to protect and help her. However, he would help every person in need, because he was the kind of person acting that way. His mother didn't like this behaviour, because it wasn't “clever enough” as she often described it. She used to say with disgust that “you inherited it from your father”. In her opinion, help was only justified in case it brought advantages for both sides. Otherwise, it was just welcomed, when you were the party receiving it.

  Marcus Lucius was surprised to remember
this in the moment when he held a girl in his arms, who was his fake-wife. Apparently, it would be more appropriated to memorize Decima. He didn’t have enough energy to do it. Technically, he needed to feel someone by his side. Feeling the warmth of another person's body, the bodily reactions like trembling, breathing, sweating were important to him. It made him feel more alive after having held Decima's corpse in his arms. It was a nice change.

  He wasn't able to memorize how it felt to hold Decima in his arms until he had this girl in his bed. Comparing her to Decima brought back good memories, even though he suffered from the thought that he could never touch Decima's body again. She didn't exist anymore. She was dead and gone.

  Julia was smaller than Decima, she smelled differently, but still nice. She made an innocent impression. Possibly she didn't even realize how innocent she appeared. Her eyes, when they were focussed, looked tensed, but interesting. She used to bite her upper lip when she tried to gather her thoughts. Decima used to gesticulate a lot in such moments. She lost the balanced expression in her face, when she didn't like something. You could read her like an open book. Julia, on the opposite, was mysterious. She often quoted Homer's writings, she thought a lot, but Marcus Lucius didn’t have any clue what was on her mind. Julia's movements were careful and gentle. The whole washing procedure was more a kind of massage, because Julia manipulated more or less consciously the superficial and deeper layers of his muscles, and it helped the healing process, promoted his relaxation and supported his well-being. He owed her at least the one night, when they switched roles.

  Her fingers trembled erratically. Her body was continuously tense and not easy to relax. She sweated a lot and as Marcus Lucius tried to wash her forehead with his hand. It wasn't easy, because he couldn’t move properly. As he moved her hair from her lids and forehead, he was astonished how sweet she looked, even in these circumstances. He liked her silent way of being. Decima was similar. Usually, he met women who talked like waterfalls. He stood close to them and pretended to listen to their words, but he mostly didn't understand the meaning. He didn't make an effort to follow their thoughts. They found him attractive, polite, desirable. He found them boring, the least evil.

  The night was surprisingly short. Early in the morning, the ship moved stronger. Julia woke up suddenly. She looked around with fear in her eyes. She sat on the bed and would have jumped out, if Marcus Lucius hadn’t hold her hand strongly. Julia fell back down onto the bed. She didn't give up and tried anew, but the second attempt was unsuccessful, too. He was woken up by her first attempt to leave the bed. Actually, already her sudden movement brought him back to reality. She was like a wild animal in panic and he knew that she had to get to know her limits. Before she could try to escape for the third time, Marcus Lucius turned his head towards her and said calmly:

  -We're leaving the port. I am not sure how long we'll stay on the water, so calm down.

  She was still in panic.

  -Look me in the eyes. - He ordered, but his voice included a special warm tone.

  She followed his words and gazed at him. The surrounding started to wobble more and more. Her body trembled exponentially to the level of wobbling of the ship. She still kept starring at Marcus Lucius. She was anxious, but she didn't give up.

  -Focus, Julia, focus. - He said.

  She didn't get that he called her name for the very first time. Until now, he had called her Decima. Julia was sure he mixed up the names without purpose. He was in pain, in fever, he was wounded and therefore confused and excused. However, he noticed the change just in the moment he spoke out her name aloud. His confusion was visible for a very short moment and Julia wondered what had happened. She heard his voice, but she didn't listen to him. With every swing of the ship, she quivered stronger. Slowly, it became hard to breathe. She had the feeling of not having enough air around her. Her breath became shorter. It made her more nervous and shaky.

  As Julia got worn down by the water, the wobbling ship, and the whole situation, Marcus Lucius took her into his arms to ease her phobia symptoms and put her head onto his chest. She was flexible like a modelling clay for children. She didn't oppose, and let him do whatever he intended. For her, travelling on water was even harder than having sex with Maxentius. As long as she was able to control her body, as long as she could reign herself, she was able to face every problem, even the most painful and cruel one. From the moment on her phobia took control over her, she became helpless and her mind got shut off. She wasn't able to think or act rationally.

  Marcus Lucius's heartbeat was regular, normal. Julia wasn’t able to calm down at first, like it is impossible to stop within less than 225 meters from the speed of 200 km/h. As you have to take severable variables into consideration, when calculating the breaking distance on a road, like slope, wear rate and depth of snow or ice, Julia's heartbeat was influenced by many variables as well. She was affected by her phobia as well as by Marcus Lucius's attention. It took longer, until her heartbeat became slower, more regular. Her breath eased down to its ordinary rhythm as well, and her eyes stayed opened for the whole time.

  It was strange how gently he forced her to be so close to him. She considered many possibilities why he did that. The most probable was that Marcus Lucius still was convinced she was his dead wife. Julia was briefly told about Decima, not so long ago. It explained why he used to call her Decima while he was with the high fever. At first, nobody knew what had happened to him, but Nerva brought news from Appius. Appius had already sent out his scouts trying to get as much information connected to Marcus Lucius as possible. Appius himself had met Titus twice within the last four weeks to exchange the latest rumours and assumptions about Marcus Lucius. While scouts came back from Rome bringing bad news, Appius was still not clear for which reasons Marcus Lucius returned to his camp. Different stories described Marcus Lucius's role in the occurrences affecting his wife differently.

  One story told that he intended to murder his wife because of some marriage differences based on different opinions due to their unequal social background or Decima being unfaithful. Marcus Lucius was definitely a kind of guy who acted passionately when his family was involved. Everybody knew that he had lost self-control after he got the news about his father's death. He immediately wanted to join the army, ignoring his age. If he had heard about Decima being unfaithful or if she had got him angry enough, he was at least theoretically able to kill her in the heat of passion. Appius doubted that Marcus Lucius would be able to act on impulse, but some men were convinced about the truth of this version. In this case, Marcus Lucius's disappearance could be considered as desertion and he would be punished, if he was found alive anywhere, anytime.

  The second version that circulated was about Marcus Lucius receiving a secret hint, that his wife was in danger from unknown reasons. In this case, he disappeared to protect his wife. But it still didn't explain why he didn't report anything and why he didn't ask for permission to officially leave the camp. However, it was the most popular version, even if direct talks about Marcus Lucius's case weren't common.

  The legionnaires used to spread idle talks and rumours about the personal or private affairs of others, because it was one of the oldest and most common means of sharing facts, views and slanders. When they noticed that Marcus Lucius was missing, they limited themselves to spreading the simple fact of him disappearing. They rather didn't analyse causes, reasons, backgrounds. They respected him and even though they wondered, what could have happened, they kept holding their tongues and waited patiently for further news. A simple desertion was excluded. Something had happened. Marcus Lucius wasn’t the kind of person who easily quit or burned ran away one day.

  When the rumour about his dead wife suddenly evolved, the soldiers started to discuss the possibilities in smaller groups. Appius wondered who started the gossip about Decima's death, it could not have been Nerva. This made Appius aware that there had to be a person in one of the camps, who knew the truth. It could have been a friend or an ene
my of Marcus Lucius. As far as Appius knew life already, it was the case of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer.

  Appius didn't know Decima at all, but he had heard some stories about her. Marcus Lucius's mother was absolutely disappointed about her son’s choice marrying a girl from an unknown, poor family. Still, as far as he knew Marcus Lucius from the times in Britannia and listening to the rumours from Brigetio, the man seemed to be satisfied with his choice, didn’t have any regrets, and seemed to long for his wife. Even, if the possibilities of caring were limited in the camps, there were small, almost invisible signs showing the values someone considered to be important. Really religious soldiers found time for their prayers in the calmness of the early morning or late evening. Sex-addicted legionnaires found ways to leave the camps to visit prostitutes or to smuggle in women of doubtful reputation. Any other addiction caught attention and was secretly well known, held in the unofficial light, not challenged until too many doubts regarding certain issues showed, or when a visitation was announced. Even then, some habits were maintained secretly, because they protected the camp life from outburst of chaos. A stable level of rubbish had to be held for any price. Otherwise, an unpredictable course of events had to be taken into consideration.

  When Appius saw Julia for the first time, he noticed how distanced she was towards her husband. It saddened him a lot, because he could remember how free and unvexed she used to be as a child. He had visited Julius Fabius before a couple of times in order to discuss issues concerning the training of new recruits. She used to hide herself behind trees in the garden, but followed every step of the visitors with curiosity and she laughed a lot, although not loud. When she was with Maxentius, she her eyes seemed to be dead, dashed, joyless. Her movements remained fluent, but had lost in dynamics. The revival of her energy could be noticed briefly during the ambush when she ran out of the wagon and gazed at her offenders. She seemed to be helpless, but fearless. She spread the feeling of being unimpeachable. If Appius should describe a proud woman, he could simply remember Julia in the moment when everything around her was struggling, and she was the only person, who savoured the grace and integrity.

  Still, Appius was already on the way to help her, but Marcus Lucius was even faster. He stopped in front of her and protected her like a wild, brave lion until he fell to the ground. Even in the moment, his head touched the ground, he swung the sword in his hand and the enemies were afraid of him. Julia stood like charmed and watched him. It was indeed a fascinating moment. Appius cherished the beauty of the situation. He could easily understand why Julia stood there like obsessed and waited for Marcus Lucius to move again. When he fought, it was like looking at the wind pushing the clouds in the sky or like waves on the ocean's surface. Observing the nature was obsessive. The spectacle was highly magnificent, simply breath-taking, and madly demoniac.

  Appius couldn't act differently than to protect both beings who were simply innocent in the brutal reality. As soon as Appius noticed the deadly wounds on Maxentius’ head, he had a spontaneous idea. It was absolutely risky, it was madly ill, but it seemed the only rational, logical alternative in that moment. Appius didn't see any other solution but to order Julia to hide in the wagon and support Marcus Lucius and to pretend he was Maxentius. She was willing to do it. Appius saw her fear related to his decision, but there was even a bigger sorrow mixed with anxiety that made her accept the conditions. Appius felt her objective attitude, but he noticed her relief about the dead of Maxentius. It meant that his premonition was correct.

  He didn’t have any occasion to ask Julia which sorrows and fears she had. It wouldn't be appropriate, and she wouldn't tell him the truth anyway. She was a girl from a noble house, so she learnt to take life as it was, but she was taught to appear properly in accordance to her ancestry. He was sure that she would have acted the same polite, silent, unspoken way, because it was her nature. She was a tender being, but at the same time, a very strong one. She was able to survive the tragedy with dignity, endearment and secret energy.

  Appius sent Nerva with letters to Marcus Lucius and Julia. He didn't sign them in case they got into the hands of enemies. Appius was a straight man, who could understand the character of people he met. People underestimated him, but he was respected as one of the best trainers. All his pupils could go into a battle and win the match. You could presume that Appius would send his pupils even to fulfil the works of Hercules, if needed, and they would succeed. All his pupils wanted to get such an evaluation, because it was the highest recognition without taking later battle credits into account. Appius had a knack for estimating how good someone was as a soldier. He could easily recognize the potential of legionnaires. His forecasts were reliable, required, respected. His training methods were hard, but effective. Appius used to prepare legionnaires for fighting, so he travelled from one camp to another and worked with different groups of soldiers. Within limits he could decide himself how long to stay in one camp. When he finished his task in one camp, he was sent to another one. He was always on tour.

  Earlier, he had spent a lot of time accompanied by Marcus Lucius's father. Maximus was one of the best warriors and he was needed in the risk areas. He had his own legionnaires and they were a group, with power of ten dozens of soldiers, but for real just quite excluded approximately twenty individuals compared to the Homeric "long-haired Achaeans". Everywhere a battle was set or highly probable, they were present to take part and to turn the tide of victory to the right side. A random part of the group was healing from earlier battles, a larger part was exercising and continued preparing for the next fight, but a random part died on the way to success. The more fights Maximus had fought, the more credits he got and the less trust he had in people. At the end, he simply relied on his men and Appius. They were doing their work with the same severity, risk potential and improbability like the series of tasks carried out by Heracles, the greatest of the Greek heroes, whose name was later romanised as Hercules. They succeed the same way Hercules did.

  They were friends and could talk honestly about everything. Losing Maximus was like losing a part of himself. There was no other person in the world with whom Appius could communicate so straightforward and freely. Appius wasn’t able to build such a relationship with anybody else. He lurked and it was a convenient situation for him. Similarly to Maxentius, he used to skulk. It didn't raise any special attention of enemies, or silly jealousy of friendly colleagues. Appius wasn't married with a woman full of ambitions and plans of a great career. It made his life easier. There was no pressure to climb higher and higher, to get new enemies or to increase the anger with more or less known rivals. The higher Maxentius went on the career ladder, the unhappier he got. It only confirmed Appius's statement to conveniently stay in the well-known, recognized and secure position. Appius remembered the last meeting with Maxentius which was too short to speak about everything. If he only had known what was about to happen, he would have tried to prevent it. If it hadn’t been impossible, Appius would at least savour the last talk for longer. He wouldn't have addressed such unimportant topics as flavour of degustated wine or recently heard, crude jokes.

  When Appius saw Marcus Lucius falling to the ground, he could imagine how similar the fall of Maximus must have been in the Battle of Sarmisegetuza against the Dacians. Marcus Lucius took after his father, as if they were casted from the same mould. Their moves were similarly fluent, their free laugh was recognizable, even their expression of pain was the same. Appius once had the pleasure to accompany his friend after a feverish fight. Maximus was wounded and had to stay away from fights for a half a year. Only then, he was declared as ready to start preparing himself for upcoming battles.

  When Appius sent Marcus Lucius and Julia to Britannia, he was afraid secret would be discovered in the port on the coast. It was very probable that some legionnaires knew Marcus Lucius or at least, they could easily remember his father. Maximus had stayed a while in Britannia, where he supported the local troops in the figh
ts against the local opponents.

  Appius was stringed along by the situation forcing him to wait for news. He was tensed for days and it distracted him internally from his normal tasks. He was professionally enough to keep up his poker face without showing his doubts to others. While he observed and evaluated the soldiers, he reflected the scenes from the latest past. His impatience was killing him softly. He needed feedback, no matter if it was good or bad news. Octavian and Nerva were reliable men, but even he wasn't able to fasten the communication. There was no world wide web and no internet connection to tweet or to update a facebook status secretly to a circle of chosen people. There was no cell phone which would be used to give the message directly in real time.

  With more than a week of delay, Appius was informed that Marcus Lucius and Julia crossed the Channel successfully. The runner arrived absolutely tired, pumped out, panting. Appius took the news with the greatest relief and immediately wrote two letters. Nerva was too exhausted to start the journey back. Appius had to wait a day until Nerva consented to ride back as messenger. It was clearly too short to relax, and even when Appius insisted Nerva to rest a day longer, Nerva wanted to go back to Octavian's troop. He knew how important the news was for both sides. He got another horse, two new legionnaires and his own horse stayed under Appius's watch. Furthermore, he didn't want Octavian to be alone with the new task. They were like brothers and belonged to Appius’ personal guard. The idea of having an own team came from Maximus. Appius wasn't able to take over the troop after Maximus's death, so he built up his own division. His body of men was not numerous, but well trained. Now, the majority of them accompanied Marcus Lucius and Julia. This fact calmed down Appius.

  In the letter to Marcus Lucius, Appius sent his request about Julia. It was a short message on one site, including the get-well-soon-wishes and an appeal to take care about Julia with emphasis on preserving her integrity. Appius already had a vague idea how to solve the Gordian Knot without cutting it directly. The situation was complicated with too many variables, but Appius hoped that his reputation would help him to be able to talk with the new emperor personally. He could explain the circumstances and take responsibility. No matter, what had caused Marcus Lucius's behaviour and what really had happened to his wife, Appius was ready to give up his own life for him. But before doing something, he had to be sure that Marcus Lucius got well and was able to fight for himself, if necessary. Appius was a man with hopes, but the years of reality taught him enough lessons to keep both feet on the ground of facts and doubts.

  When Julia woke up, she laid next to Marcus Lucius. Her head was on his chest and she listened to his regular heart-beat. She got scared by the surprising proximity to a man and she had never expected to feel comfortable waking up this way. Only when she grasped the full situation, she felt all kind of warnings in her head. She tried to move imperceptible, but shifting a millimetre only, she felt how Marcus Lucius held her hand stronger, but still gentle. He was still asleep, and acted on reflexes. He felt visibly comfortable, too. He moved his head towards her, his eyes were closed, his rough skin was kind. Julia felt strangely good, secure and terrified at the same time. In the moment, she got aware, where she was, thinking about the ship and the arm of the Atlantic Ocean separating southern Britannia from northern Germania Inferio, she started trembling nervously, what disturbed Marcus Lucius. He woke up and needed a moment to realise where he was. He didn't let go her hand and he didn't allow her to run away from him. Her head stayed on his chest and he even stroked her hair shortly. It was a nice, friendly gesture to keep her calm, not a romantic approach to seduce her. She wasn't sure what to make of his movement, but it wasn't her biggest sorrow right now. She stayed focussed on his regular heartbeat. It was a good medicine for her panic attack.

  When Octavian knocked at the door, coming into the cabin only two seconds later, he didn't show his astonishment about the picture of Marcus Lucius and Julia in one bed. When the girl noticed him, she tried to jump out of the bed. She stood on shaky legs just next to the bed. Marcus Lucius held her hand. He wasn't able to move so far to head her off. He could already sit up, but his wounds didn't allow him to act the way he used to act.

  Julia trembled so much due the water phobia that even Octavian was afraid about her health condition. He appeared next to her and helped her to go back to bed. He understood why he saw what he saw while he came into the cabin. As Julia sat next to Marcus Lucius, he whispered to her and she visibly calmed down. Octavian observed them and let them alone. Before he left the cabin, he reported that the whole team had to wait till the evening before leaving the ship. Marcus Lucius nodded. Julia didn't get it. She didn't understand that their travelling time on water got reduced to minimum and that the ship could be left in the evening.

  Octavian wrote a short notice for Appius. He waited impatiently with Nerva and they talked without sentences, exchanging just few words. Practically, they didn't need much to communicate perfectly. After agreeing upon the further steps, they kept silent. However, Nerva didn't know why Octavian shook his head every now and then.

  -What's on your mind? - Nerva asked.

  At first Octavian didn't answer. He looked back at his memories and analysed them for a longer while. They sat in the port of Londonium, staring at the water. They waited for the evening to evacuate Marcus Lucius and Julia.

  -She was so scared, so scared... - Octavian repeated a couple of times.

  Nerva didn't get what his friend meant until he thought about Julia. Sometimes, the easiest ideas are the most improbable. She was the only female person in this convoy. Her female slaves were killed. An important part of her husband's guard was killed. Nerva didn't have many opportunities to get to know her, but apparently, she became a crucial factor to Octavian, who wasn't married yet. Contrary to Octavian, Nerva felt settled and conditioned. His only variation in style was spending nights and evenings with women of less moral of customs, sometimes with female slaves, when he was a visitor somewhere outside the camps. Nerva had already been married once, but he didn't like his wife. He was drunk when he got married. They divorced on his wish. He argued that she couldn’t have children and everybody understood his position. It was his excuse to leave her and he always could play the card of “I was once married, so I don't hurry to be married again”. Even in the times as he was bound to his wife, he used to sleep with many different women and avoided going home.

  Octavian was another kind of person. He had a stable, traditional idea of a happy, reliable family he could establish one day. His parents were happily in love since Octavian could remember and he wished to have such a relationship one day, too. He was positive about how difficult it could be to realise the goal, but he mostly achieved everything he planned to achieve. When he started his career in the army, he wished to be trained by Appius. Octavian already heard about the man who could estimate your potential just by one view and who could set your direction in the right way.

  Octavian was impressed by the charisma of Appius from the very first time they met. Appius was quite disturbed by the death of his best friend. He was taking-the-inward-turn and became more silent than usual. Appius never was a man of many words, but he kept silence for days. He limited himself to one-word-commands and his head movements showed his dislike or his approval during the trainings. He backed down and didn't take any weapons in his hands to show anything. He simply let his trainees do what they used to do.

  When Appius saw Octavian, he didn't react or comment anything. He didn’t give any feedback for two weeks. Octavian got doubts and wanted an advice, but Appius sent him away for further two weeks. Finally, directly after the training Octavian asked Appius for his opinion and Appius gave him a moment of square attention. His answer was straight and short: “If you were average, you would have been sent back to your camp during the first day.” Octavian was stationed in Genua for the first four years. Then, he got the opportunity to get training under Appius in Neapolis and was taken over directly to Appius's troop. I
t was the most significant moment of Octavian's life.

  Just few months later, they were stationed in Castra Vetera to support legionnaires on the borders to Germania. The situation there was tense and Appius was very welcome as a trainer. There were some ambushes and during the fights, some legionnaires were badly wounded, some were killed. Appius decided to go to the fights. Maybe he wanted to follow his best friend, who fell to the ground while supporting the emperor Trajan against the Dacians. Apparently, Appius felt comfortable in between dancing swords, fire balls and metallic sounds of feverish duels. He felt good risking his own life and he brought everyone to the limits of patience. Nobody wished Appius's death, so everyone was sorrowed about his lack of sense of security. One day, his sadness and silence was gone. Nobody knew what had happened, but as Appius came back from a fight, he went through the camp and selected the legionnaires, who had caught his attention during the last days. He ordered them to build up a group and come to his tent the following day at sunrise. From that day on, Appius came back to his training work.

  One of the selected men was Nerva. He was a quite choleric, spontaneous soldier with great intuition and movements of a wild animal. His eyes stayed focussed, even if his whole body seemed to suffer under lack of control. Nerva's fingers trembled, he didn't use to stay calm for a moment, he was always in motion, even minimally, but in motion. He was eighteen as Appius discovered him. Octavian was just two years older. The other soldiers from Appius's team were already over twenty five years old and they were all happily married. Without any formal family binding, it wasn't surprising that of all things, Nerva and Octavian became best friends. They were like brothers.

  There were only two good things about Nerva’s life: serving in the army under the command of Appius and his friendship with Octavian. Everything else was at least of doubtful reputation. He drank a lot, if he was allowed to feel free. He smiled a lot, and sometimes, others didn't get that Nerva wasn't smiling to them, but about them. His sense of irony was highly developed. He was the opposite to Octavian. Octavian could stay without a movement in rain during his watch for hours. He didn't smile often. He looked serious, even grave. He didn't spend nights with women or slaves. He didn't drink a lot. He was strictly disciplined. However, they both were blessed to get the trust of Appius and they were both proud about it in their own way. Noteworthy, they both weren't good planners, they rather limited themselves to fulfilling the orders.

  As they sat in the port of Londonium, they knew that Nerva would wait until the entire division had left the ship and moved forward. If everything would go successfully, Nerva could return to Appius with good news. If there had been trouble, like the demasking of Marcus Lucius by legionnaires in Britannia, Nerva would have fought to his last breath to protect Appius’s plan.

  -So, she was scared. Of what? - Nerva asked still gazing at the water.

  Octavian moved a little, maybe even trembled nervously.

  -She's afraid of water. He helped her to calm down. He knew how to handle her. Why did he know it? He didn't spend more time with her than I did.

  Octavian was bothered by a quite unusual problem. Nerva laughed and commented with “Oh, women”, then he slapped his friend on the back.

  -It's not about women, but about one woman. - Octavian was nerved. - If you could only see how scared she was. It was fascinating and I wanted to help her. She wouldn't allow me to help her in any way. She hates me.

  Octavian was deeply sorrowed, confused and uncertain. Nerva understood this and wasn't sure what to advice. He spent a lot of time with women, but he didn't analyse them. He was just interested in their bodies as long as he was in the mood for sex. Going through such a topic wasn't easy to Nerva. It exceeded his knowledge and handling of women.

  -Why do you think she hates you?

  He had seen Julia just a couple of times and only short. She was small, dainty, definitely not willing to open her tights to anyone. She looked rather like a beaten animal than a proud Roman lady. There was nothing interesting about her. Octavian's opinion was different, because he said:

  -Every time I came into the wagon to check the condition of the wounded man, she stepped back. When I ordered to burn the wound, she yelled at me. She even tried to beat me with her fly weight. She wasn't scared of me. She was furious and mad. Then, she told me she hated me. Since then, she doesn't even look at me.

  Nerva tried to imagine Julia boxing at Octavian. It had to look funny. Apparently, she tried to protect Marcus Lucius, who was called mostly “the wounded man”. If possible, neither Nerva nor Octavian used his real name. The human curiosity of a man with ears wide open for any kind of news could bring more danger than advantages. Nobody needed rumours or even suspicions.

  -She shouldn't look at you. - Nerva started maybe one of the longest utterances ever. - She has to play her role and pretend to be married. A married woman shouldn't look at you the way you wish her to do it. You're not like me. You won't stand it. You care too much about her. It scares me.

  Nerva was really worried. He has never seen his friend having such a deep affection towards any female being. Julia was maybe a pretty, lovely girl, but she was out of range for them both. She belonged to a socially recognized family. She was married to a man, who was nominated as the new tribune for Britannia. Octavian and Nerva were just simple soldiers without titles. Even their years of experience weren't able to compensate the lack of social level.

  -She's married. She's out of your league. - Nerva added again.

  Octavian wasn't happy to hear it. As a man of logic and discipline, he hated the rules he had to follow.

  -She lost her husband. When the whole story will to light, she won't be married. She will be free.

  -When the whole story will come to light, we all can be dead men. - Nerva replied, not even sadly, rather freely. - If we'll survive by any miracle, she will remarry someone from her social background. And, as you said, she hates you. Do what you have to do, but don't get involved emotionally. Women are not worth it.

  Octavian nodded sadly, with disappointment. Finally, he heard what he needed to hear: a voice of sanity.

  On the journey back to Aquincum, Nerva thought about sharing his worries with Appius. It wasn't normal that Octavian was analysing his state of being single and it was a sign of him falling in love. It was a warning to Nerva. It was ridiculous. It was dangerous. It had to be discussed with Appius. In a clearly murky, gloomy situation, there was no place for further unknown or variables. Apparently, Appius had the same opinion, but he balanced between possibilities. Taking Octavian off the task could harm the dainty micro system that had been developed in the last days. Octavian had the best view at the local part of the entire situation. Appius was sure that Octavian wouldn't purposely harm the mission in any way. Therefore, he decided to keep Octavian in Britannia for some more days. Then, Nerva should take his place. Nerva was reliable, too, but there was no risk of him falling in love to any woman. Additionally, Nerva was on the way for so many weeks and he had to rest. He wouldn't dare to think about having a longer pause, so Appius had to arrange it for him.

  Taking into consideration the mixed feelings of Octavian, knowing that Marcus Lucius simply calmed down the girl, and planning that Nerva could replace Octavian on site, Appius wrote some unusual sentences in the letter to Marcus Lucius. Marcus Lucius had to pretend being Maxentius, but he shouldn't get involved or show his involvement for Julia to anyone. Octavian shouldn't get affected by the situation too much, otherwise his emotions could influence the plan unwillingly. Above all, Julia was supposed to keep her integrity.

  Marcus Lucius read the message after two weeks, because that was how long it took Nerva to reach the convoy on its way to Eboracum. Nerva was tired and needed a rest. As long as his distances were limited to a three-days’-rides, everything was fine. With the increasing distance, it was harder to stay trim and fit without having any pause. The convoy moved forward at a constant, normal speed. Nerva tried to deliver messages as fast as
it was possible. His horses were extraordinary tired and he had to rest as well. Appius ordered two more soldiers to accompany Nerva on his way and to slow him down.

  Octavian wasn't sure how to make sure that his friend would catch a longer rest during the journey, so he appreciated Appius indirect way to influence Nerva's stops. It was shortly after morning's habits were finished. The convoy just started to move forward when Nerva appeared with two legionnaires by his site. Octavian stopped the journey for a short break. He went to Marcus Lucius, who was already conscious and whose wounds were healing better with every day.

  -Nerva's back. - Octavian reported shortly. He was out of breath from joy and his wrinkles showed his sorrows about his best friend.

  Marcus Lucius understood the problem without any further explanation. Julia was sitting in her corner of the wagon and watched the conversation between the soldiers.

  -Im feeling good enough to leave the bed. - Marcus Lucius suggested. From the time they left Londonium, he got better with every day. He wasn't able to pretend to be unconscious anymore. Julia was happy for him, and she stepped back more and more. He wanted to leave the wagon and breathe the real, wet, foggy air of Britannia. After weeks spent in limited space, he needed the feeling of freedom.

  -You won't get a horse, you're too weak for that. - Octavian replied and wondered about Marcus Lucius's willingness to help a simple soldier. He was aware that Marcus Lucius was a tribune and could have been accustomed to giving orders without hearing any kind of veto.

  -Then, I will sit here. Your messenger should rest in my bed. The escort should rest in another wagon.

  The other wagon, which Marcus Lucius referred to, was originally used for Julia's slaves and it wasn't comfortable. It had two double-pallets, but there was not enough space for adult men to rest comfortably. The wagon with Maxentius's slaves burnt down during the ambush and the slaves didn't survive. The soldiers wondered how calm Julia was about this fact. She was able to get along alone. Maybe it was a matter of shock or simply the fact that she was not a spoiled woman. The soldiers had expected Julia to complicate the journey by fastidious expressions of a cheeky little miss. She was everything but a naughty little chit.

  In the meanwhile, Octavian analysed Marcus Lucius’s suggestion. It was very generous. Finally, Octavian accepted and left the room. Julia didn't react. She wasn't asked for a permission or approval. She was completely ignored, so she isolated herself from the living surrounding.

  -The man is exhausted. He needs to rest. - She heard Marcus Lucius speaking.

  Julia didn't react, because she thought he was rather talking to himself than to her. After they left the ship, they didn't exchange any word. She was too ashamed of her phobia taking control over her rational way of thinking. Even, if she was thankful to him for calming her down, her sense of shame overwhelmed her, expanded and didn't allow her to speak to him in the last days.

  -I'll sit down next to you, if it doesn't bother you. - He said to her.

  She was too much occupied with her thoughts that didn't listen to him, so she didn't react, again. He noticed her lack of attention. He left the bed cautiously, repeated his last sentence and moved his hand in front of her eyes. Only then, she looked up to him. He bowed over her which was visibly painful to him. The red tunica he got from Octavian, covered Marcus Lucius's breast and legs up to his knees. His arms were naked and revealed that he was a strong man. She had already seen him almost completely naked and she knew that his body was good-looking. She was surprised that she wished to see him without clothes again. Her desire was unexpected and unexplained. Her sudden sexual allusions scared her and her cheeks turned red. She tied to look somewhere else to focus her attention on anything else than the vision of Marcus Lucius's naked upper body. Even while she moved her head in another direction, she noticed that he should protect his chest and belly better. When she glanced at him casually, she trembled shortly from excitement every now and then. He assumed it wasn't a sign of fear. She was simply startled and baffled. The weather here was colder and wetter than in other parts of the Roman empire, where they came from. She wasn't visibly prepared for it with her summer clothes from the Southern parts of the empire. It wasn't surprising that she was freezing. Marcus Lucius wanted to give her a blanket, but she didn't react. He carefully covered her with the material, even if it wasn't good for him to bow for a longer time.

  -Did you say something? - She asked suddenly and automatically moved back to the wall. She was tense and unsettled. He thought that he might have been wrong and that she really was scared of him. Her attempts to conceal herself at any price could have been a reflex or a real, current fear. Therefore, he explained his intentions to her so she would calm down.

  -I'll sit down next to you, if it doesn't bother you. They bring Appius's messenger. He needs to rest.

  She nodded with understanding in her eyes. She wasn't surprised by untypical circumstances and methods. Since her marriage, everything was new and unusual to her. She couldn't find a place in life for herself neither in this moment of time nor in the place she was. She felt alienated and lost between the previous and current life styles.

  Marcus Lucius waited patiently for her to move. She pressed her right side against the wooden, cold wall for some more minutes. She trembled, because it was chilly. She was used to Mediterranean warmth and she wasn't comfortable with the bleak weather of Britannia. It was rainy and moist. She didn’t have proper dresses for such muggy places. Marcus Lucius attentively covered her with another blanket. She stopped trembling and started looking somewhere, where her eyes didn't meet his. She had a runny nose for the first time. She didn't like it at all.

  Soon after the talk, Nerva appeared feeling insecure. Marcus Lucius assumed that Nerva and Octavian had already exchanged the latest news and instructions from Appius. Nerva looked indeed exhausted. He was wet from sweat and the dust of the road collected on his tanned skin. His short, completely black hair was wet, as well. He introduced himself, not sure whether Marcus Lucius remembered him. Nerva saluted, Marcus Lucius nodded with his head while sitting on the floor next to Julia. It wasn't a proper behaviour to let your subordinate sleep in your bed. Nerva was totally surprised and unsure what was happening. It felt like in a trap, but Marcus Lucius gave him an impression of assurance. He didn't treat Nerva as an inferior, but as a peer. It showed in the sound of Marcus Lucius's voice as he said:

  -You should wash yourself. When you come back here, tell Octavian, we're ready to go.

  Nerva nodded. Before he left the wagon, he gave Marcus Lucius and Julia their letters from Appius. Julia didn't read her letter immediately. She held the paper cautiously, gently. She stared at it for a while. In the meanwhile, Marcus Lucius had scanned his message. It wasn't long. Appius wasn't a person using a lot of words. Then, Marcus Lucius kneaded the paper powerfully. Apparently, he didn't have to read it twice to brand the information in his mind.

  After a couple of minutes, Nerva re-appeared, with the same insecurity in his eyes, but without dust and sweat on his face. Julia didn't notice his stunned, perplexed state of mind, because he stood straight and proudly like a typical soldier, who shows discipline and respect.

  -Take two blankets from over there. - Marcus Lucius ordered while showing at a plain dresser in the room. - You are allowed to rest. Lie down and sleep.

  Nerva thanked him without words, with a simple nod. He followed Marcus Lucius's orders and the minute, he laid down, he immediately fell asleep. He snored loudly, blustering. In the silence of the room with limited light and space, Julia had to laugh about the sound of snoring. She tried to control herself, but she wasn't able to hold back the quiet laughter. For the very first time Marcus Lucius heard her laugh. It was cheerful, simply pleasant. He had to laugh a little, too. It was a bit painful, but he wasn't able to stop himself, either.

  They sat next to each other on less comfortable pillows. Marcus Lucius wondered how she could sit here for so long without complaining. As a girl from a noble
family, she used to stay in more comfortable places. He wondered why she never uttered a word of objection, even rudimentarily. Marcus Lucius was a soldier and familiar with very limited, basic conditions. He had spent some nights in the fields, without any linen, simply lying on the solid ground. Once, when he was wounded, he had spent some time on a wooden board without any comfort. He knew what discomfort felt like.

  Julia didn't give the impression of having had a similar experience of inconvenience or incommodity. Still, she didn't complain at all. He respected her for this attitude. She wasn't one of the cheeky little misses Marcus Lucius knew from some parties organised by his mother and the Roman elite and where he was supposed to find his future wife. Nobody expected that he would choose a girl from an unknown, socially worthless family. It didn't fit into the concept. Not only his mother was singled out by his decision. What Marcus Lucius didn't know, the whole society isolated Decima, because she wasn't part of it. The aristocrats perceived her as a virus, like a small infectious agent with the ability to replicate inside the living cells of any kind of organism. They wanted to stay immune and didn't invite Decima to any event. They avoided her on the streets and other public places. Decima didn't tend to enter this strange world either, so the both existed apart. Marcus Lucius didn’t have any idea about it. He never had the time or even will to analyse it. Decima never complained. And his mother never told him anything, either, as if already talking about Decima would spread or activate a kind of virus.

  Staying for a longer while with a girl, Marcus Lucius thought about the women in his life. He never had enough possibilities to observe them and their behaviour. He had only spent a limited amount of hours with women until then. From his childhood he remembered some of his mother’s habits. From the womaniser's period, he knew how to touch women and how to let them melt in his hands. During his marriage, he spent some hours with his wife, who mostly didn't talk much. They spent hot nights together, he remembered passionate kisses and deep affection. There was small talk, there were many smiles and his new plans to settle down and have a real family with children. There was no laughter, but no special seriousness either. He became very aware of the common laugh he had just heard. He used to laugh with his friends, with soldiers, but not with women. It was new to him and appreciated it. Therefore, he laughed further. It made him somewhat free and it felt natural as breathing.

  -Do I snore? - Marcus Lucius asked seriously after some minutes of joy. The memory of Decima kept changing his mood continuously. He wondered that he didn't think about her as a part of his past. Maybe he unconsciously tried to isolate himself from the bitter truth. He rather imagined Decima being somewhere over the rainbow than on the other side of life. He was confused and unsettled, even though nobody around him could notice it. To the world, he looked like the pure calmness. Inside, he wasn’t able to switch off the river of thoughts. Additionally, he needed a change to avoid falling back into his depression. However, he didn't intend to be totally serious again. He liked the relieving laughter. Therefore, he waited impatiently for Julia's answer.

  -A little, just when you sleep deeply. - Her voice trembled, but a kind of joy stayed captured in it. - At the beginning, you snored a lot, because you were wounded so heavily. We were afraid, you'll die. - Suddenly, Julia sounded sad.

  Marcus Lucius didn't respond to Julia's statement. Death was the last thing he wanted to discuss. He looked at the snoring Nerva and smiled.

  -I know how he feels. I had a long trip behind me and didn't get the opportunity to rest.

  Then, he reminded the circumstances of his trip and he stopped talking. The girl didn't know why he ignored her remark and why he didn't finish his story. However, she decided to continue the topic as he already started it.

  -When did it happen? - She asked.

  Marcus Lucius moved unsettled as if he remembered bad memories. She noticed it, even though his facial expression didn't change a bit. Strangely enough, it gave her more power to support him in that moment. She leant on the wall and listened to his heartbeat. It was so loud that she could easily hear it. The tempo increased and it meant that Marcus Lucius got nervous with the time. Her hand came out of the blanket and landed on Marcus Lucius's shoulder. It wasn't a sexual, but a friendly gesture. He didn't object. He trembled a little in the moment she touched him, and then kept silent. He kept silent so long that Julia gave up hoping for an answer. Suddenly, she moved her head away from his shoulder.

  -I ask for forgiveness. - She added quickly, ashamed, after she had put together the pieces of information she had about Marcus Lucius. He used to call her “Decima” while he was in fever. He blew the secret about Decima being dead and it was confirmed later by news from Rome. Appius had sent his scouts to Rome to check this and they returned with bad news. Appius had written about it, although he kept the rumours and dubious assumptions hidden referring to who had killed Marcus Lucius's wife and why. The only certain fact was Decima's death. The circumstances and the reasons were not known. Julia was already informed what had happened, even if she didn’t have any idea how the reality looked like in detail. In the moment, she thought about it, she heard how Marcus Lucius started whispering:

  -In the the moment when you are sure about your life, when everything is going the way you wish, when you're lucky and sorrow-free, something happens. The man you believed to be your friend, becomes your worst enemy. This is even the more humiliating than any attack by a known enemy, because your so-called friends exactly know your weaknesses. Unknown people try to hurt you and they might be lucky with is. They can be prepared and well-informed, but you know that you can expect inimical attitude. - His voice was marked with tragedy, deep reflection, and betrayed that he was occupied with the topic for more than the last minutes. His flood of thoughts was ordered straight and analytical.

  Julia didn't dare to stop him and listened carefully to his monologue. She didn't even add “Hmm” every now and then, because she didn't want to interrupt him. Her hand stroked him instinctively, minimally so that this little micro system remained unspoiled. She wasn't sure whether it was one of the special moments, when he opened towards her or whether he simply spoke out his thoughts aloud without noticing Julia. It was a rare state, and as probable as the confirmation of the existence of the Higgs boson, a proposed elementary particle in the Standard Model of particle physics. Julia carefully listened further and didn't wonder about pauses every now and then.

  -You don't expect any planned actions against you from your friends. I wasn't able to save her. It was planned that I couldn't be there earlier. She was already dead when I arrived...

  Then, he kept silence for another longer while and savoured the moment, when Julia stroked his shoulder gently with her fingertips. Her touch was his only contact with reality. Julia waited for any further remark, but nothing happened. Absolutely nothing happened. Just his heartbeat echoed in the room. Julia wondered why Nerva's snoring passed by, but she didn't speak this out loud. It could have started a new topic and she didn't want it.

  Marcus Lucius closed his eyes and contemplated silently. He seemed to be calm, but non-responsive. His mourning was visible. He made a very, very sorrowful, plaintive impression and Julia wanted to cheer him up. She didn’t have any clue how to do it, so she took away her hand and simply laid her head on his shoulder and didn't move. He was glowing as if he had fever, but she didn't dare to act in any way. He didn't push her away. He didn't ban her gesture again.

  As the regular snoring of Nerva echoed in the room again, Marcus Lucius added hastily, but determined:

  -I will find the betrayer and I will have my revenge.

  -You will. - Julia whispered sadly. She knew that it meant he will leave her one day and go back to his matters. It made her sad, because she started to like him. The words he said were true. She felt betrayed as well. She felt her raising anger towards her father and Maxentius. It was a part of a tradition that daughters were sold as goods, but she had expected her father to choose a better
match for her. She expected her mother to stand up against the old, wrinkled satire. Instead, they left her alone, with almost tears in the eyes, under supervision of a man, who acted brutally and without compassion. As she tried to tell them how unhappy she was, her parents turned their backs to her and said that Julia had her new family. Julia had to be supportive to Maxentius, because the whole world expected it from a good wife. She proudly, silently had to represent her husband. Instead, she started deceasing, imploding, destroying herself by collapsing and being squeezed within herself. She did it with purpose. She had a strict goal. She started eating less every day and she didn't drink enough water day by day. She didn't complain and made herself suffer internally.

  During the ambush, she wished to be killed when she realised that there were chances to die quickly, easily. She could pretend to be the happy wife as she did during the last weeks. She had become a professional liar. With every day, that passed, it was easier to smile politely and to pretend being the proud Roman woman everyone wanted to see. Even if her internal state got worse with every further heartbeat, it didn't influence her visibly. However, she started losing her internal colours. The process of fading out was already progressed so far that she didn't care about staying alive anymore. Earlier, she didn't want to die and every thought about death was scary. After half a year of a socially successful marriage, her heart was empty and doomed. The worst thing about it was that she didn't care. She wasn't scared anymore. The whole world became irrelevant.

  A kind of recovery happened in the moment, when Julia noticed Maxentius's evanescent look in the eyes and the sliding walk to the other side of the life. It was a revival for Julia. The lesser life was in Maxentius's body, the more power she got. As she saw his dead body, her whole plan changed into one big question mark. She was relieved when Appius ordered her to play the game, because she could pretend everything she wanted. She became the great simulator. She was adult and marked by life experience already.

  While she took care of Marcus Lucius, she was satisfied and happy about his unconsciousness. She even liked the situations, when he didn't recognize her or called her Decima. It was unimportant as long as she felt safe. She had started living on the reduced level compared to how vivid she used to be until her marriage. However, the amount of power and willingness to live after the ambush was incredibly high compared to the almost dashed off remains of resources she deployed as wife. She discovered a new goal in her life and she was happy as long as she could take care of the wounded man.

  She didn't notice when the situation changed rapidly. She was a victim of her phobia, again. As Marcus Lucius helped her stand the journey on the ship, she discovered that he actually cared about her. He didn't hurt her, even when he had the chance. He was supportive, cautious, nice. She didn't expect him to be this way. She was sure that all men were bastards without respect for beings weaker than themselves.

  Analysing Marcus Lucius wasn't easy. There were so many aspects that could influence his behaviour crucially. He could feel forced to stay straightforward, uncomplicated, truthful so that she was convinced about his good intentions. He could also respect her the way he treated his wife, because he loved Decima. Furthermore, he could act the way he did all his life, because he was that kind of person being really nice and supportive to others. Julia was occupied by the contingency analysis of how much all these possible aspects could have an effect on her situation. She tried to believe in Marcus Lucius's good intentions, but she was too deeply hurt to be able to trust anyone. If the innocence is stolen once, it can't be given back by anyone. It's like a jug that fell on the floor and crushed into millions of pieces. Even by gluing all pieces together again, the jug will never be the same as before. Julia's heart was overexerted and she wasn't able to switch back to the safety modus anymore. A shadow of insecurity would always exist in her internal, emotional space until the day she would die. However, by noticing the good in Marcus Lucius, she took giant leap forward for herself.

  In the moment, he disclosed her the plan to have his revenge, he simply announced his intent. It meant he would leave her one day to exact vengeance on the man who killed his wife or ordered to do it. In this second, she understood that there will be a point in time, when she will be left alone again. She knew she shouldn't get involved emotionally. She had to limit her feelings towards him, to protect herself the same way she protected herself from Maxentius. The same way she pretended everything was fine, when she hated the man on her side, she had to pretend everything was fine, when she was falling in love with the man next to her. She didn't want to miss his scent one day. She didn't want to miss his warmth one day. She didn't like to miss his voice one day. However, she knew that that day will come and she had to be prepared for it. Carpe diem had to become her claim. She had to appreciate every day with him as if that it would be their last day.

  Julia assumed that there was no force that could keep him next to her. His decision influenced her and her plan. She kept it in mind. She wanted to freeze the situation the way it was. It wasn't about him falling in love with her. It was about him staying near to her and protecting her like he did in the moment they saw each other for the first time. It was enough when he simply stayed the way he was. His mourning didn't disturb her. The distance between them was even a good thing. It allowed her to be sure that he wouldn't be brutal or selfish as Maxentius had been. The rare moments of touch like holding hands or sitting next to each other were enough for her. She didn't want more. She was completely satisfied with the current state. Therefore, she accepted the fact that the whole situation would unfortunately change one day. After every summer a winter follows. After every moment of luck and happiness, a moment of tragedy or inconvenience follows. This was the circle of life. Her task was to collect as many good memories as possible to look back at them and survive the period of misfortune.

  After regaining her vital power, she wasn't able to go back to her family. She wasn't ready and willing to hear a new suggestion about whom she was supposed to marry next. But staying alone as a woman was neither wise nor usual. At the end of the day, there was just deadly hollow waiting for her and she decided to end her life, when Marcus Lucius would leave her. He wasn’t supposed to know about her plan and the actual implementation. Nobody should keep her from executing her plan. She was brave enough to do it. The end had to come, it was foreseeable, tangible, substantial. She didn't know the real date, but she was determined to accomplish the decision she just made. It occurred honourable and brave to her, even in the ill, irrational way. She smiled sadly and cheerfully at once. She realized that she had left some time to spend with Marcus Lucius and it made her happy. She knew that she wasn't allowed to let him know her plan. She wasn't allowed to bring anyone into the loop. She had a plan and it made her feel safe and eased. It made her happy. For the first time in her adult life, she felt good and convenient with the current state. Briefly, she had to laugh. Everything appeared to be funny at once.

  As Julia was busy with her thoughts, Marcus Lucius was not able to forge out any further plans. He had too many variables to consider. At first, his health condition didn't allow him to have his revenge yet. He had to train his body to deserve the description “killing machine”. Then, he had to find a good occasion to find Quintus. It was probable that Quintus would visit Brigetio and stay in Aquincum, but Marcus Lucius had to make sure to find him somewhere. It wouldn't be clever to show up in a public place after months spent in hiding, without any explanation, only to find out that Quintus wasn't there. His whereabouts had to be confirmed before. The third aspect was about leaving Britannia. He could easily steal a horse and ride through the empire as he already did once before, but leaving Britannia implied at least two potential sources of trouble. Firstly, Appius shouldn't be punished for a friendly gesture. So before Marcus Lucius would even start preparing to leave, he had to clear the situation with Appius. Another thing was Julia's fate after the whole story came to light. However, the very first aspect seemed to
be the most crucial to Marcus Lucius. He had to come back at least to his average health condition. Then, he would be able to take on the responsibility. He would explain to everybody that he pretended to be Maxentius and forced Julia to act as his wife. It was easy. Even the talk with Appius seemed to be simple suddenly. It was a step-by-step-strategy.

  He swore to himself to start exercising his body from the day they reached Eboracum. They were supposed to live there for a while, and he had to use every minute possible to prepare himself to have his vengeance. He had to avenge his wife and the life they could have had together. Quintus and his men should be killed consciously and with admission of guilt. That was his long-term plan squeezed into a few words. It made him breathe regularly, even while he had Decima on his mind. It enormously eased his mourning. In that moment, he heard Julia's laughter again. He had to smile. She spread joy.