Glaucus' Story

Chapter 56 - The Ring

The firelight glinted and gleamed off the heavily carved old gold of the ring's band as Julia held it aloft and turned it slowly for all to see, shards of yellow mingling with the deep purple of the stone. It was a ring designed for a powerful man... a ring befitting an emperor. The signet was so huge that, when worn by Marcus Aurelius, it must have reached his knuckle. Julia remembered that his fingers had been long, slender and somewhat delicate, more suited to the poet-scholar than the emperor-warrior.

The signet had been carved on a polished, flat, perfectly round stone, a rare piece of purple-colored aghate. The intaglio was a masterful piece of craftsmanship, the lines so delicate that it seemed impossible that they had been carved by human hands. But in the same way that its size contrasted with the slenderness of the finger the signet ring was designed to adorn, the simplicity of the insignia carved on the stone contrasted with the weight of the gold and the obvious richness of the gem: a stalk of wheat entwined with a rose. No words. No gods or goddesses. No depiction of Roman triumphs. Just a simple, humble stalk of wheat and a beautiful, blooming rose. A stalk of ripe wheat like those which fed Romans of all classes in every corner of the empire. A rose like the millions which bloomed from Syria to Britain. So simple. So natural. Yet they had been chosen by the most powerful man in the world as his personal signet. Mysterious in its simplicity, the insignia perfectly befitted the private man that the emperor Marcus Aurelius had been. It befitted the warrior, the philosopher, the powerful but compassionate man he'd been -- the man who'd had absolute power yet wanted to give power back to the people of Rome. The man who had chosen Maximus as his only possible heir.

"It's amazing," said Maxima who stared at the vibrant colours, entranced. "Who gave it to you?"

"The emperor of Rome... Marcus Aurelius." Julia smiled at Glaucus' gasp. "He was very grateful for my role in protecting your father's life when he was in grave danger in Moesia and he gave me this signet ring, instructing me to use it if I ever needed assistance of any kind." Julia placed the ring in her palm and luxuriated in its weight. "I would have used it to save Maximus' life after I found him a slave in Rome," she said, "but it was too late for that."

"What good is it now that Marcus Aurelius is dead?" asked Maxima as she accepted the ring from her mother and rolled it over and over in her hand then tried it on her middle finger where it engulfed the entire digit.

Glaucus intercepted Julia's answer. "The high-priestess of Vesta. She'll recognize the ring, won't she?"

Julia nodded with a smile.

Glaucus continued, "And she'll help me once she sees it. Julia... do you intend to lend me the ring?"

Her smile widened. "If I couldn't use it to assist your father when he was alive then I will employ it now to serve him after his death. It is what the emperor would have wanted, I'm sure."

"Here... catch!" exclaimed Maxima as she tossed the ring to her brother. Glaucus scooped it out of the air and clasped it in his large hand, feeling the gem dig into his palm. He crushed it tight then opened his fingers slowly, studying the imprint of the insignia on his flesh.

"I have news for you too," Julia continued as she glanced at a beaming Apollinarius. "We know where Lucius Verus is."

"Where?" asked Maxima and Glaucus in unison, the precious ring momentarily forgotten at the mention of the grandson of Marcus Aurelius.

"He's ludex Selectus Quaestionis of the Alpine province of Alpes Atrectianae Et Poeninae. Don't be fooled by the lengthy name. It may be one of the smallest provinces in the empire and it is certainly one of the most remote, high in the alpine peaks."

"He's nicely out of the way," commented Glaucus.

"That's for sure," agreed Maxima. "What is a Iudex... er...?"

Apollinarius joined the conversation. "Iudex Selectus Quaestionis is the highest authority in a province that is too small to have a governor. He's a civil magistrate assigned to dispense local justice. Essentially, he sits on a chair and hears complaints then makes judgments. It's not an unimpressive job but I can't imagine that he has much to do in a province high in the alps that is populated mostly with shepherds."

"Very clever of Severus though, isn't it?" commented Glaucus. "To the people of Rome, it appears that he has given the grandson of Marcus Aurelius a responsible position, whereas he has actually just gotten him far out of the way."

"Precisely," said Apollinarius. "The passes would be inaccessible for much of the year so the young man would be quite isolated there. And routes to the northern and western provinces bypass the highest peaks where Alpes Atrectianae Et Poeninae is located. It's the most northern of the three Alpine provinces.

"How long has he been there?" asked Glaucus.

"I don't know," replied Julia. "People in Rome haven't seen him for years but I am assured that he is alive and well."

"I'll go there for sure... very soon while the weather is good. Thank you Julia and Apollinarius. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all you have done for me."

"There are two more things I'd like to do before you leave tomorrow," said Julia. Glaucus raised his eyebrows in question. "I need to alter your appearance slightly so you can't be so easily identified. Also, you need a travelling companion who can run errands and go places where you would not dare risk being identified. The woman who helped bring Maxima into the world -- and who is a very dear friend -- has a son a year or so younger than Maxima. He is very smart and quick and, like Maxima, bored with villa life. He speaks perfect Latin and Greek and also reads and writes proficiently. I have already spoken to his mother and he would be very pleased to accompany you."

"Does he ride?" asked Glaucus, not at all sure that he wanted to lug around a boy who would slow him down.

"He has been caring for your horse ever since you left and has become quite fond of the beast. Yes... he rides very well indeed."

"What is his name?"

"Brennus. He is about your height with thick, black curls and deep brown eyes."

"Brennus... oh I know who you mean, mama," said Maxima. "We used to play together when we were very young before you decided that I needed more refinement. You'll like him, Glaucus."

"Well, it's decided then. Thank you very much, Julia." Glaucus drew a deep breath. "I suppose this is goodbye for now. I'll leave very early tomorrow morning before the emperor's men have a chance to discover that I am here. Hopefully, they are still far behind me but news of the massacre in the desert could travel very fast."

"I'll see you in Rome," declared Maxima.

"No, you won't sister," replied Glaucus with a tone that brooked no argument. We must not be seen together under any circumstances until all of this has been settled."

Maxima pouted. "We can just--"

"No!" said Glaucus, "and I don't want to hear another word about it. Even though we may be in Rome at the same time we must not meet."

Maxima clamped her lips together then changed the subject. "What do you intend to do to alter his appearance, mama?"

Julia simply smiled.

In the gray early morning mist two male figures on horseback trotted down the road from the villa past sweet pink oleander in full bloom and fragrant lemon trees with spiky boughs that plucked at their capes as if coaxing them not to leave. By the time they reached the road that connected Ostia and Rome it had started to drizzle in earnest and the younger man pulled his cape up to his ears, his thick, black curls flattening as they grew sodden. The soggy brown cape couldn't disguise the slender, lithe body of this very young man -- not much more than a boy -- or squelch his excitement over his first lengthy trip away from the villa. He nudged his bay mare into a run to keep abreast of the huge black stallion who trotted at a leisurely pace and snorted happily to be finally reunited with his master and on the move again. As the road dipped the mist grew thicker, rising now from surrounding marshes and dripping from the cypress trees that towered overhead. No merchants were on the road as yet but the two men traveled in silence lest snatches of their conversation drift to unfriendly ears.

Brennus glanced sideways at the man on the stallion. Glaucus had been cordial last night when they had met but he had maintained an air of distance, not willing to share his thoughts with a boy that he had just met. Brennus hoped to gain his trust and friendship but knew that idle chatter was not the right approach, so he remained silent. He was more than a little bit in awe of his traveling companion -- the son of the legendary General Maximus. He looked so intimidating astride the stallion. His cape flowed over his broad shoulders and pooled on the muscular haunches of the stallion. An ornate sword and scabbard was secured at his hip, his hand resting casually on the hilt.

Despite the chilly drizzle, Glaucus sat straight and tense on Ultor's back, eyes straight ahead, his thoughts contained, his senses fully alert. His eyes darted at every sound: every bird's cry, every animal's rustle in the grasses at the side of the road. He hadn't slept well and was feeling slightly testy. His goodbye to Maxima had been painful and he would miss his little sister badly, despite his relief that she was finally safe under the protection of her mother. And Julia... he would miss her too. He smiled slightly as he wondered how she would react when she found the charcoal drawing of Maximus placed carefully on the table beside her favorite chair in her apartment. He was sure that Maximus would have wanted her to have it. Besides, he had memorized every line and shade and tone. His father's face was burned into his brain. Glaucus shifted slightly in the saddle and the comforting weight pressed against his lower back assured him that the ring, the contract, and two copies witnessed by Julia and Apollinarius were safely secured.

The cold drizzle started to drip down the base of his neck under the hood and he swiped his hand around his nape, startled momentarily by the lack of hair. Julia had ordered his long waves cropped and his beard trimmed, and now they were not much longer than his father's had been. He remembered how startled he had been when he had looked in the mirror. If his hair had been oiled and combed forward, and a few shades darker, he could have passed for his father. Had Julia intended that? He had glanced at her face reflected over his shoulder in the glass. She was pale, her hand at her lips in shock, her eyes watery. No... the eerie resemblance to his father had surprised her too. In a cuirass and cape he could pass for the young man on the step in the drawing. Would that be an asset or a hindrance? Only time would tell.

Rome

Marius sat gazing at the dust that floated in the sunny rays that filtered through the high windows of the library, and sighed. He was so bored with research. He was so bored with studies and politics... he missed the adventure and schemes that Glaucus had brought into this life... and that had evaporated with his departure. He hadn't realized how boring his life was until he had befriended the son of General Maximus. Oh, the intrigue wasn't entirely gone. He was well aware that he was being watched and that guards were posted at the insula in case Glaucus returned. But he wondered now if Glaucus would ever come back, or if he had met some final fate wherever his quest had taken him.

Marius was shaken from his reverie as a young man took a seat near him on the bench and plunked a pile of scrolls on the table. He must be in for some serious study, thought Marius, before his eyes returned to the drifting dust particles. Finally, he sighed and returned to his studies of the Perusine War. He and his bench mate sat for a long while in silence. Finally the younger man nudged his elbow.

"Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me what this means?" The young man was unfamiliar to Marius and, after studying him briefly and deciding he was harmless, he dropped his eyes to the parchment on the table... the scrolls chronicling the German campaigns of Marcus Aurelius.

Marius stiffened slightly, instantly wary. "I'll try. What is it?"

"Right here, sir," said the boy and he directed Marius' attention to a small wax tablet concealed within the scroll.

"Wha--?" started Marius but he quickly clamped his jaws shut when he read the short message. "Yes, yes... uh, you may find more information in the stacks over there." As he pointed at the wall to his left he quickly scanned the room for Glaucus and found him leisurely sorting through stacks three rows over, his face averted from the populous sharing lively debate at the tables or studiously pouring over manuscripts.

"Thank you, sir. Please... don't get up. I can find what I need myself then I will return. Will you hold my place for me?"

"Yes, yes... of course." Marius kept his eyes locked to the Perusine War scroll as the young man moved away. A few minutes later he yawned deeply and stretched backwards listening to his vertebrae re-adjust as he surreptitiously watched the boy examine manuscripts very close to the closely-shorn Glaucus. They seemed to jostle slightly then apologize before the boy headed back to him. Glaucus took at seat at a private table in a shadowy corner.

"Did you find what you wanted?" Marius asked, aware that his voice sounded breathless.

"Yes, I believe so. Is this it?" The young man opened the scroll to reveal another small wax tablet with a second scrawled message from Glaucus which Marius scanned quickly.

"Ah... are you new to Rome?" Marius asked, fumbling for a way to make casual conversation with important meaning.

"Yes, I just arrived this morning. I'm here to study." The boy extended his hand. "My name is Brennus."

"Nice to meet you, Brennus. I'm Marius." Brennus smiled then turned back to his scroll dismissing Marius. What was he supposed to do now? It was clear from Glaucus' note that he was in grave danger and that Marius was not to approach him.

Suddenly Brennus turned to him again. "I need to find a room for rent, sir. Do you know of any place safe for someone new to the city?"

The words tumbled out. "The place where I live isn't safe. Not safe at all. You mustn't go there. Ah... maybe... there's a place near the Subura district. Yes... that's a good idea. There's a place there where you may find accommodation. I'll give you directions."

Later that evening...

Brennus' eyes were as round as plates as he followed Glaucus through the narrow, twisted streets, their torch the only source of illumination except for the occasional rays from lanterns that slanted across the cobbled streets and up the filthy, pocked walls. He had never imagined Rome to be like this. He had thought that the entire city was like the Forum... that gleaming area of temples and public buildings filled with light and shoppers and businessmen and senators. No, he had never imagined anything like this and he held his cape over his nose to diffuse the worst of the rancid smells and suppress the urge to gag. The place stunk of urine and feces and vomit. He murmured an apology -- for about the tenth time -- as he trod on Glaucus' heels. He preferred to risk a cuffing from the older man than stray too far away from his strength, his lantern, and his sword. Besides, Glaucus seemed to know where he was going and Brennus had no idea where he was. He did wonder, though, how Glaucus could possibly seem comfortable in such an terrible area where the humanity seemed to exist in conditions too terrible for animals.

Glaucus rounded a corner and Brennus hustled to keep up... then crashed into Glaucus' back as he halted suddenly before a door. He apologized again then felt a crushing grip on his wrist as he was hauled up beside the older man. "Will you stop apologizing!" Glaucus hissed. "I understand how you feel. I felt the same way the first time I saw this place. Just... just stop apologizing to me. I can't stand that anymore."

"I sorry, sir--," said Brennus before he clamped a hand over his mouth. His black curls bounced as he shook his head frantically to show that he hadn't meant to let those words slip out.

Glaucus sighed. Brennus had proven to be very useful, and he sincerely liked the young man, but his lack of experience was wearying at times. Well... if he sticks with me, Glaucus thought, he'll lose his innocence quickly enough. Glaucus sighed again as he used the hilt of the sword to wrap on the scarred wooden door which was opened instantly. He gestured for Brennus to proceed him inside and chuckled as the young man shrank from the huge, erect stone phallus beside the doorframe. Ah yes... he'll lose his innocence quickly enough.

Inside, their nostrils were assaulted by a sickly sweet odor designed to mask the smells of bodily secretions that permeated every crack of such a house. Without a word being spoken they were directed by a young woman towards a doorway that stood slightly ajar and they wasted no time in exiting the dreary atrium.

"Glaucus... Glaucus, my friend!" exclaimed Marius as he wrapped the Spaniard in a tight embrace. "I wasn't sure that I'd ever see you again. I hardly recognized you in the library. You've lost some hair and gained a companion."

Glaucus grinned. "Yes, his name his Brennus and he's the son of a friend of Julia's."

At Marius' look of surprise Glaucus added, "I have quite a story to tell you... and I have a sister, Marius. A sister!"

"A sister?"

"A sister?" the words echoed from the doorway where Eugenia stood with her hands on her ample hips. All heads swiveled to face her and she threw up her hands to stop Marius' words of protest. "Oh, I know... you are paying me to use the room to talk and I promised not to interfere. But... a sister. That wouldn't be a child of Julia and Maximus now, would it?"

Glaucus gently pushed Eugenia out the door and shouted as he shut it firmly behind her, "We'll talk later Eugenia. Thank you." He turned back to a grinning Marius. "Sit down my patrician friend because I have an amazing story to tell you."

"And I have something to tell you," blurted Marius as if he just could no longer contain the words that he had harbored for so long. "I know where Quintus is!"

Glaucus felt a jolt rock him from his head to his toes, sizzling along his limbs and off the ends of his fingers. His voice, though, in no way betrayed his inner emotion. "How did you find out?"

Marius was somewhat taken aback at his friend's off-handed reply. "Well... you know what Roman record-keeping is like. It just took a bit of digging. But... don't you want to know where he is?"

"Of course I do, Marius," said Glaucus as he sat down and poured wine into three goblets. "I want to find him more than anybody else. He's close by, I hope."

"Well, not exactly... no. He's in Gaul trying to eke a living out of some very unforgiving land."

"He's a farmer?" asked Glaucus incredulously.

"Yes," Marius chortled. "Ironic, isn't it? Apparently he's not very good at it, based on the product he's sold and the taxes he's paid. After Severus came to power and banished all the praetorians -- those that he didn't kill -- Quintus fled to Gaul."

"How many years ago was this?"

"Well, shortly after Severus marched to Rome, so it would have been 193. Don't you remember how he did it? He issued a proclamation to the Guard tribunes and centurions that they were to leave their weapons behind and put on their dress uniforms and meet him outside the city gates. They assumed that their obedience would assure their continued service so they didn't hesitate to obey. Quintus even had them parading to ensure that they appeared perfect when they greeted the new emperor. As they primped and preened, detachments of Severus' expeditionary forces seized the armory and manned the gates. Another detachment surrounded the defenseless praetorians. Severus then berated them for their betrayal of Pertinax, telling them that if they hadn't actually killed the emperor then their failure to kill the assassins made them guilty. Then he formally discharged them. They were stripped of their uniforms and horses and ordered to remove themselves beyond the hundredth milestone from the city upon penalty of death. Some committed suicide but Quintus slunk away and headed for Gaul. Once settled there he sent for his daughter--"

"His daughter? He has a daughter?" asked Glaucus with surprise.

"Yes, the offspring of a very short-lived marriage. I believe his wife died in childbirth and the girl was raised by the wife's relatives until Quintus took the unfortunate child away. Clara is her name, I believe."

"Well, you have done an amazing job, Marius, and I'll head to Gaul right away. I have a score to settle with that man, after he tells me what I want to know." Glaucus' voice was still curiously devoid of emotion and he knew his seeming lack of enthusiasm troubled his friend. He smiled. "I'm just tired, Marius. I have had quite an adventure these past few months... and a very successful one. How long do we have this room?"

"As long as we want it. I thought that this might be a safe place for you to stay while you're in Rome."

Brennus' face dropped.

"It was very clever of you to think of it, Marius. Now, take a few gulps of wine and prepare to be amazed."

Chapter 57 - The Temple

Three days later Glaucus and Brennus strolled slowly and casually along the Via Sacra which ran lengthwise through the Forum, acting like men quite comfortable in the great city and simply out for a stroll in the morning sunshine past the glittering temples of Castor and Pollux, Caesar, and Vesta. Glaucus' appearance had changed again and he felt quite confident that no one would recognize him. His hair was now jet black, courtesy of an employee of Eugenia's who used the dye regularly to disguise her own ever-increasing gray. He had even smeared a bit into his brows and beard to darken them and Eugenia had declared him the very image of his father. He seriously doubted, though, that anyone in Rome would make the connection after all these years and he hoped that the dark hair and light brown toga would simply make him disappear into the throng of people with similar appearance.

Marius had already prepared the way and set up an appointment for them at the House of the Vestals at mid-day, ostensibly to deliver some important family documents for storage there. Once the door was open, Glaucus would insist upon seeing the high-priestess. But, his concern now was getting there without arousing anyone's suspicion. He kept his head lowered and stayed on the shady side of the street while Brennus kept watch for praetorians. When he spied one he murmured a key word and both men shuffled into the shadows of the buildings until the threat had passed. As the shadows grew shorter then disappeared altogether under the noon sun, Brennus approached the House of the Vestals while Glaucus hung back.

The Temple of Vesta was the oldest and most important in the city, and was set back slightly from the square, just in front of the House where the Vestals lived. It was built by Numa Pompilius, the second king of Rome, and the founder of the cult of Vesta, the goddess of the household hearth. In this temple the Vestal Virgins had custody of the Sacred Fire, symbol of the life of the city. Also in the temple was the Palladium, an effigy of Athene believed to have been brought from Troy by Aeneas.

In the preceding days Marius had been only too pleased to educate Glaucus and Brennus about the Temple and its inhabitants. It was not a true temple at all, he had said, in that its space was not inaugurated, nor did it contain an image of Vesta. But its importance to the city was undeniable. As the handmaidens of Vesta, the principal duty of the six Vestals was never to allow the flame to be extinguished.

Glaucus eyed the structure as Brennus disappeared around the side. The temple was round and smaller than the surrounding ones, and made of brick except for the ornate marble columns, and stood on a square base. The temple was separated from the Regia, the house of the Pontifex, by a small street branching off the Via Sacra: the Vicus Vestae. The Pontifex Maximus was considered the spiritual head of the Vestals, but at the same time he had no part in the practice of the cult, which was the exclusive duty of the six Vestals chosen from among the noblest families in the city. Clad in snow-white garments which symbolized the purity of their minds, bodies and souls, these women were elected into the order in the very prime of their beauty, youth and strength to be depositories of state secrets, confidants of the imperial household and faithful keepers of the sacred tokens of the Roman Commonwealth. The legal term of service was thirty years; after which, the Vestal, being between thirty-six and forty years of age, was free to return home, and even to marry. Their service was divided into three periods of ten years each: in the first decade the novice was initiated into the mysteries of the place, and instructed by the senior sisters; in the second decade she practiced her duties; in the third she taught the novices.

Very few Vestals took advantage of the permission given by law to leave the House and re-enter the world because the honors, privileges and the riches they enjoyed as Vestals far exceeded any conceivable advantage of worldly or married life. They were exceedingly wealthy: wealthy from the revenues of the order, which possessed a large amount of landed property; and also from special allowances made to each one of them by their families, or by the head of the state. The Vestals did not come under the dominion of the common law and were delivered from paternal authority. They were reserved seats of honor in the theaters, amphitheater and in the circus. They also reserved the right of driving in the streets of Rome at any time in whatever kind of vehicle they chose and everyone, even the consuls, was obliged to make room for their passage. Horses were chosen from among their own private stables.

Vestals performed important duties in state ceremonies and wills of emperors, secrets and documents of state were entrusted to their care. In civil wars and supreme emergencies of the Commonwealth they were selected as ambassadors to restore peace and tranquility between contending parties.

Many and careful precautions were taken to prevent the virgins from falling into temptation. No man was allowed to approach the Temple of Vesta at night; no man was allowed to step over the threshold of the House of the Vestals upon any pretence. Every servant and clerk was female. Even physicians were excluded, however urgent and needful their presence might be. In fact, no case of sickness was permitted to develop itself within this strongly protected citadel of chastity. As soon as the first symptom of a serious case of sickness made its appearance, the patient was removed from the Atrium, and put under the care of her parents, or else of a distinguished matron. The behavior of the attendant doctors was, in each case, closely watched.

The only thorn in this idyllic existence was the pontifex Maximus who kept a vigilant eye over the sisterhood watching for the slightest suspicious sign. Every detail of their life was reported to him by secret informers, chosen from among the female servants of the house.

As fascinating as Glaucus found all of this, he was only interested in one Vestal -- the high-priestess Caelia Concordia who had given her life to the order and was now very old. She was also the cousin of Marcus Aurelius and was suspected to be still secretly loyal to him and his heirs despite the parade of subsequent emperors.

Brennus suddenly made a reappearance and gestured for Glaucus to follow him. The Spaniard hustled to catch up to the younger man as he quickly disappeared again down the Nova Via on the west side of the house. Austere from the outside, Glaucus suspected that this huge house contained untold luxury inside. As he approached the door, he straightened his shoulders and raised his head. Two heavily armed guards were positioned on either side of the portal and he didn¹t want to give them any reason for suspicion. An elderly female clerk stood on the step and gestured him forward. The guards ignored him.

A translucent white hand extended from the doorway. "Yes, yes, give me your documents."

How did one address a clerk of the Vestals? Glaucus bowed slightly then said in a firm but courteous tone, "M'lady, I must give my documents directly to the high-priestess herself."

The woman withdrew her hand and placed it on her hip. "Nonsense. That is never done. I will deliver them to the appropriate person." She stretched out her hand again, shaking it impatiently this time.

"M'lady, the only appropriate person is the high-priestess herself, Caelia Concordia. I must speak with her."

"That is simply not done, young man," muttered the woman with finality as she started to close the door."

"Wait," said Glaucus as he extended his hand, palm up, in the small space remaining open. "Please give her this then allow her to decide for herself if she will see me."

The old woman squinted and regarded the ring with curiosity. Then she plucked it out of his hand and held it close to her eyes, turning it back and forth. A subtle change came over her expression and her voice softened. Clearly she recognized the signet. "Wait here. I will return soon with an answer." Then she closed the door in Glaucus' face.

For many long, tense moments Glaucus and Brennus stood side-by-side between the two guards, silently staring at the oak door. Finally it opened again and another, much younger woman stood there. She was clearly not a Vestal but she did not have the austere appearance of a clerk either. She addressed the guards in a clipped tone. "You are dismissed."

They raised their eyebrows and turned puzzled heads.

"You heard me. You are dismissed -- now. Do not return until business with these gentlemen is complete."

The disgruntled guards took a long, hard look at Glaucus before they obeyed by moving to the far corner of the building. Their attitude made it very clear that they did not like what was happening and they remained alert, ready to defend any Vestal who risked injury or insult from these two plebeians. Brennus stood with his back to Glaucus making sure that the guards didn't creep back within hearing distance.

The woman smiled officiously. "I am the personal secretary of Caelia Concordia and she will allow you an audience. You must remain outside. Do not even consider stepping foot on the threshold, do you understand? If you do, you will be instantly struck dead by the guards."

Glaucus nodded and felt his sword hand twitch despite the lack of weapon at his hip. He bowed graciously. "Yes, m'lady."

The woman melted into the shadows and Glaucus thought he and Brennus were alone in the open doorway until another woman addressed them.

"Where did you get this ring?" came the commanding voice from the murky interior. Glaucus could make out the indistinct form of a pure white stola and white-gray hair but little else. There were several other slightly darker figures behind her.

Glaucus glanced at the guards before replying then lowered the volume despite their distance. "From a woman who obtained it directly from Emperor Marcus Aurelius when he was in Moesia after the uprising by the traitor General Cassius." He waited for a reply that was a long time in coming.

"All that happens is usual and familiar as the rose in spring and the crop in summer," recited the Vestal reverently.

"Pardon, m'lady?"

"That's a line from the emperor's Meditations which may have inspired his insignia."

"I see. Well, the lady who owns the ring helped save the life of Marcus Aurelius' favorite general, Maximus Decimus Meridius, in Moesia. I am the son of this general and I seek information about his life."

"He is dead," came the abrupt reply.

Glaucus suppressed his shock at her blunt words. "Yes, I know that. I know a great deal about what happened to him now... that he died here in Rome... a gladiator... after he killed Commodus. He died in the arms of Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelius."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I want you to take and protect a very important document. One that will absolve my father of all blame in the death of the emperor -- in the eyes of those who still think he deserves blame -- and that may protect my life as well. It is a state document and bears the signature of Marcus Aurelius as well as my father, and the emperor's seal."

"Let me see it." A ghostly white hand flitted into the sunshine only long enough to accept the scroll then withdraw again. The only noise from within was crinkling as the scroll was unrolled, then a sharp intake of breath. "I thought never to see this," the Vestal whispered.

"You... you knew about the contract?" asked Glaucus, baffled. How could she? Did Severus tell her to watch for it?

"You did the right thing in bringing this to me. The power of this document could plunge the empire into turmoil."

Glaucus was beginning to have doubts. "I bring it to you for safekeeping only. I have two copies which I will use as I see fit but the original must be kept safe. I will need it back."

There was a long silence, then these words. "You look very much like your father."

Glaucus didn't know how to respond to the sudden kindness in her voice. "You knew him?"

"No, I did not know him and I did not normally attend the games. Emperor Commodus, though, insisted that the Vestals attend the games that he sponsored in honor of the late emperor... so I saw your father fight."

"And die."

"Yes. It was a sad day for Rome."

Glaucus was reassured. "I need the ring back, m'lady, to return it to the owner."

"I will keep it safe." The door started to close.

"Ah... please, m'lady, I must ask you to return the ring," insisted Glaucus as he peered into the disappearing dark space. "It doesn't belong to me."

She reached through the narrow opening and dropped it into his hand. "I will personally see to the security of the document. Have no fear." The door closed with a firm clunk. Glaucus stared at it in bewilderment. Was that it?

"Pssst!" hissed Brennus. The guards are coming back.

Glaucus pivoted then walked slowly into the street, realizing for the first time that sweat was pouring down his back and the day was not hot. He wiped his palms on his toga as he and Brennus rounded the corner onto Via Sacra and picked up their step as they hurried away from the temples and towards the vendors and taverns -- the comforting crowds. Glaucus headed directly for a small tavern wedged between two government buildings and headed directly for the table at the far back, sidestepping a serving girl with a loaded tray balanced on her shoulder. Marius, disguised in a poorly-fitting curly brown wig, was sitting in the shade at the assigned place and they gratefully dropped down beside him as he poured ale imported from the north. Brennus screwed up his nose at the bitter taste but Glaucus chugged it down.

"Relieved that it's over?" asked Marius as he watched his friend drain the goblet. He refilled it again.

"I feel like I just threw everything into a bottomless well, for some reason. I have the sinking feeling that I may never see them again."

"Don't. My father has entrusted important documents to the Vestals and it is easy to get them back again if you can prove who you are. You did get a receipt, I hope?"

Glaucus paled. "No. She said I didn't need one."

"Oh... well, maybe yours is a special case." Marius shrugged. "I wouldn't let it worry you." The food here is excellent, if provincial. Do you want to order?

"That place was creepy," said Brennus, still somewhat shaken by their recent adventure.

"Yes, it is a little isn't it?" Marius scratched his head, the wig momentarily forgotten, then hastily straightened it again. "No man is allowed to set foot inside for fear of sullying the virtue of the ladies within. I often wonder what really goes on in there. Sacrilegious thoughts, really."

"I should say so," chided Glaucus as he read the menu written in chalk on a piece of slate attached to the tavern wall.

"Well, while I was waiting, I've had plenty of time to have 'sacrilegious' thoughts about that stunning young woman seated over there at the front by the street." Glaucus peered through the horde of noon-time patrons to see the girl. "And she appears to be alone too. Don't think I've ever seen her in Rome bef--"

His words were lost in Glaucus' snort of rage and Marius grabbed his goblet of ale to keep it from toppling off the careening table as his friend barged from his seat and stormed in her direction, shoving startled customers aside.

"What's wrong with him?" Marius asked a bemused Brennus.

"His sister," replied Brennus.

"His what?" asked Marius with a mixture of shock and elation. There was a chance he could get to know this beauty? "Maxima?" he asked.

"Maxima," Brennus confirmed.

The chuckle started low in Marius' chest then rumbled from his throat in a deep, joyous laugh. "Go tell him to bring her over," he instructed Brennus as he watched his friend confront his sweetly smiling sister. "And try to keep him from killing her, will you? I'd like to meet her."

Glaucus escorted Maxima to their table with a murderous glint in his eye and a painful grip on her upper arm. She refused to be cowed, though, and maintained her smile until she was seated between her brother and her childhood playmate.

"Hello Brennus. Are you enjoying Rome?" she asked sweetly as she yanked her stola out of her brother's hand.

"Hello, Maxima," replied Brennus as he swirled the liquid in his goblet hoping the remaining ale might evaporate.

"What are you doing here?" Glaucus seethed at his sister.

"I knew you'd probably walk through the Forum sooner or later. I wanted to talk to you."

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"Of course not." She cocked her head. "You look good like that. I didn't recognize you at first," she said referring to his darkened hair. Her eyes slid to her brother's companion across the table. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Glaucus continued to glare at his sibling so Marius took the initiative. He stood and bowed deeply, the wig tumbling from his head and onto his sandaled toe where he kicked it into his hand and plunked it back onto his head. "M'lady, I am Marius Vipsanius Agrippa and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance," he laughed. "Please excuse my awkward disguise."

Glaucus turned his glare upon Marius who grinned in delight. "Oh relax, my friend. Those Vestals really spooked you, didn't they?"

"Hello, Marius," responded Maxima. "I've heard a lot about you. I suppose you know who I am."

"Yes, but I'd like to know you much better, m'lady. Tell me, how does a woman of such beauty and obvious intelligence and sweetness have a brother like that?" he gestured to Glaucus whose face was purple with suppressed anger. Maxima giggled. Brennus tittered.

"Do you all think this is a game?" Glaucus growled. "Do you think it's a joke? Our very lives are in danger as we sit here. At any moment praetorians could swoop down and arrest us all. Then we could carry on this little flirtation in that hell hole in the Tullian Prison!" His voice had risen with each stabbing word and he looked around in some alarm to see who may have heard. Nearby customers looked away quickly, not wanting to attract the wrath of this agitated man.

"I'm sorry Glaucus," Maxima soothed. "I just wanted to see you again before you left for the Alps."

"We're going to Gaul first," explained Marius, then he winced as Glaucus gave him a vicious kick under the table.

It was too late. Maxima knew exactly what he was talking about. "Quintus? You've found Quintus?"

"Ah... yes, m'lady." There was no point in trying to deny it now so Marius continued. "Quintus is a farmer there... like your father and brother." It was the wrong thing to say and Marius knew it the instant the words left his lips.

Glaucus turned on him. "How dare you compare that man to me or my father?"

"I didn't mean--"

"How dare you use his name in the breath as mine and Maximus'." His fury at a simmer now, he turned back on his sister. "Where are your protectors?"

"Looking for me back at the Trajan Market," Maxima grinned, proud of her achievement and bored with her brother's increasingly bad temper. "I was admiring trinkets when they became distracted by a commotion outside a shop and I gave them the slip. That place is full of wonderful novelties from all over the empire, brother... even some very old things from Egypt and Greece and even Petra. Oh, and the silks, Glaucus... no wonder mama buys silk there. It is the most fun place in the world, I think. I love Rome!"

Marius watched her talk, completely enchanted. Brennus sipped his brew, determined to get used to the taste now that he realized it was not going to go away any other way. Glaucus sat with his elbows on the table, trying to rub away the sudden pain from his temples. When he finally looked up again Marius and Brennus had switched seats and Marius and Maxima were engaged in lively conversation. The pain shot around to the back of his neck. Through a purple haze he watched his best friend flirt with his baby sister. Finally he caught the words, "meet again."

"Impossible," stated Glaucus emphatically. He glanced around before adding, "You're going to Gaul with me, Marius, remember?"

Marius looked at Glaucus in amazement. "Just this morning you told me you didn't want me to because I'd slow you down too much!"

"You must have misunderstood," said Glaucus with deliberation. "Of course I need you with me."

Marius grinned wryly and thought, "You need me away from Rome, my Spanish friend... or more specifically, away from your sister." He turned back to Maxima who lowered her lashes. Did she realize how seductive that gesture was? "Alas, my lovely Maxima, duty calls and I must not betray my friend. I trust you will be in Rome when we return?"

"Of course. When are you leaving?"

Glaucus intercepted. "We have business to take care of in Rome so not for a week at least."

"Well, then, maybe I'll see you again before that time," Maxima purred to Marius.

"I am at your beck and call m'lady. Just whisper into the wind and I shall be there. And if that doesn't work, just send a servant to my insula." They both laughed.

Brennus drained his goblet and held it aloft triumphantly then rushed to cover the brim with his hand before Marius could refill it.

Glaucus abruptly stood up announcing, "It's time for you to go home before the servants get there and tell Julia they lost you. She'll be frantic."

Marius rose and extended his hand to the lovely young woman. "Allow me to accompany you, m'lady," he said graciously.

As Maxima accepted his hand Glaucus stated bluntly, "I'll take her."

Marius tucked Maxima's hand firmly into the crook of his arm then turned her towards the exit. "That would not be wise, my friend. You put your sister at great risk if she is found with you."

Glaucus had to admit the truth of those words and he searched for an alternative. Brennus was looking positively tipsy and didn't know Rome well enough. He ground his teeth. His overly-attentive Roman friend seemed to have won the argument. Glaucus pasted a smile on his face as his sister wiggled her fingers goodbye then emerged with Marius into the sunshine before disappearing into the dense afternoon crowd in the Forum.

Glaucus pulled Brennus to his feet then headed to Eugenia's at such a pace that the boy could barely keep up. By the time Marius got there hours later all their bags were packed and the horses were ready. Before dawn the next morning the three men were on their way to Gaul, Marius whistling a happy tune as they crossed through the Porta Flaminia and into the Roman countryside.

Chapter 58 - Gaul

The mosquitoes and biting flies were almost unbearable now that they were in the protected valley of the Rhone and far away from the brisk, salty breezes off the sea. The horses' tails swished and flicked continuously and the tortured animals shook their heads furiously, trying to dislodge the pests from their tender nostrils and eyes.

The riders didn't fare much better and resorted to dragging their togas over their heads. But the tiny insects found every possible entrance and feasted on the skin of their necks and behind their ears. At night they squirmed under their blankets, trying not to aggravate the itching by satisfying the constant urge to scratch.

They had hugged the sea shore all the way north to avoid crossing the rugged Alps any sooner than they had too. They briefly considered cutting days off their journey by crossing from Pisae to Nicaea by boat but Glaucus was unsure how his stallion would react to such a venture and decided against risking Ultor's safety. Horse and master had re-established their closeness in the past few weeks and Glaucus refused to do anything that might jeopardize the bond.

Brennus loved every bit of the trek and didn't even mind the nights they elected to camp under the stars rather than seek more conventional shelter. To him, even the magnificence of the Forum in Rome paled in comparison to the distant peaks, still snow-capped despite the warmth in the valley. He was the only man not carrying a weapon but he didn¹t mind, using his sharp eyes and ears to the travelers' advantage instead. They ate regularly and well because he heard the grouse in the bush or saw the deer in the trees. Glaucus' deadly aim with a bow and arrow took care of the rest.

For his part, Marius hardly noticed where they were, so lost was he in his thoughts of the beautiful Maxima. The blue sea reminded him of her eyes, the songbirds of her laugh, the velvet night skies of her hair -- and he said so over and over until Glaucus finally begged him to stop and focus on their mission. But Marius was clearly smitten and Maxima had seemed to return his affection. Only time would tell if their infatuation would develop into anything deeper.

Maxima could do a lot worse than Marius, thought Glaucus. His friend was intelligent and good-natured and, generally, well-behaved. His family was wealthy and highly-respected within the patrician community in Rome. Suddenly Glaucus sat bolt upright in the saddle, startling Ultor so much that the horse side-stepped into Brennus' animal which shied into Marius' and all of the riders pulled to a halt in confusion.

"Wha...what's wrong?" asked Marius as he drew his sword and swiveled in the saddle looking for danger.

"You can't marry my sister!" exclaimed Glaucus.

Marius looked at him like he'd gone mad. "What are you talking about?"

"You can't marry my sister," Glaucus repeated as he swatted a fly away from his face.

"I just met your sister. Who said anything about marriage?" Marius scoffed. "Get a grip on yourself, man."

"No... Marius... you don't understand. My sister is the daughter of a former slave. You can't legally marry her."

"She's your father's daughter and he was of the senatorial class, just like me."

"Julia married Apollinarius before Maxima was born and he claimed her as his own. Apollinarius is also a freed slave. She is not of your class, Marius."

Marius' face slowly fell as he realized the implication of Glaucus' words. If he couldn't legally marry Maxima then he wouldn¹t be considered a suitable suitor... and he might not be able to see her again, at least not in any proper capacity. This was not good. Not good at all. "What about you?" he asked. "Were you adopted by your aunt and uncle?"

"No... they didn't want me to lose the rights and privileges that are my birthright."

"So, you're patrician but your sister isn't," said Marius in a gloomy tone as he digested this information.

Glaucus merely nodded.

The three riders proceeded in silence, two of them with their eyes straight ahead, lost in their own glum thoughts. Brennus looked nervously from one of his companions to the other. He didn't want any trouble within their small group.

Their silence wasn't broken until they reached the village of Tarasco and, even then, their words were perfunctory as they turned their minds back to their task. It was time to start inquiring about the whereabouts of Quintus and the local tavern -- the hotbed of gossip -- was a good place to start. They met nothing but blank stares and shrugs.

They didn't reach the next town until late afternoon. They headed straight for Valentia's only tavern and, there, they found success.

"I know 'im," said the tavern owner, "but not too well. Only seen 'im once er twice a year, mostly around harvest. Lives high up on the hill to the east with his spinster daughter." The man seemed keen to impress the newcomers from Rome.

"He comes to town to sell his produce? What does he have to sell?" asked Glaucus.

"Not much," the man snorted then grinned, revealing two missing teeth with the rest blackening and in danger of meeting the same fate. "He don't have much to sell 'cause he don't know what he's doin'. That daughter o' his does most o' the work anyway."

"He doesn't have any friends?" asked Glaucus.

"Nope. Nobody. Lives up in the hills just with his daughter. Don't talk to nobody and won't answer questions. Real unfriendly." The innkeeper seemed ready to dismiss them to continue wiping the tables.

"Can you direct us to his place?" asked Marius as he slapped down a coin on the table to keep the man talking.

"It's up the road past the inn. You'll find a trail that goes up the hill on the right. Hard to see 'cause it's kinda overgrown," said the tavern owner and he pointed to the north wall of the establishment with one hand as he pocketed the coin with the other. Brennus recoiled at the body odor as the man lifted his arm. "It's a good half day's walk uphill. Why he don't come down lower where the earth is better, I don't know, but he don't. Could do real well if he just grew grapes like everybody else 'round here but he tries crops like wheat. Real fool. Some people think he's crazy."

"What does he look like?" asked Glaucus casually but the man's eyes narrowed suspiciously for the first time.

"Thought you knew 'im. What business you got with him?" he asked. His sour breath too much for Brennus, the youngster excused himself and headed outside to breathe.

"We're associates from a firm in Rome and he owes our business money from the time when he lived there," lied Marius smoothly. "The business has just changed hands and the new owner wants to clear up outstanding debts."

Debt was something the tavern owner could relate to. "I see. Well, last time I saw 'im his hair was thin and gray, he's real thin himself, and his clothes are clean but none too new. He doesn't look like nothin' special."

"Where did you say the inn is?" asked Marius. "It's too late to head into the hills today."

"Just 'round the bend and ol' Creesus won't cheat ya none. Runs a good, clean establishment. Soldiers like it so it must be good."

"Soldiers?" asked Glaucus cautiously.

"Sure. There's a legion stationed a few day's ride north o' here at Lugdunum. Soldiers come here all the time on the way south, or just on leave."

Glaucus' pleasant expression quickly changed to a scowl and Marius hurriedly distracted the owner by slapping him on the back and palming even more coins. He then guided his friend outside where they joined Brennus who was perched on a low stone wall.

"I had no idea we were so near to a legion," moaned Glaucus. "I thought they were all closer to Germania."

"Well, we're a little too close to a legion for my comfort... especially with you looking like the very image of your father," said Marius. "How do you think the soldiers would react if they spied a young General Maximus? No doubt the entire army has been warned to be on the watch for you."

"How many soldiers in that legion would remember my father then relate me to him?" asked Glaucus skeptically.

"All it takes is one," piped up Brennus.

"He's right, Glaucus. We have to be careful."

"Who says that there are any soldiers at the inn right now anyway? All we have to do is get by the inn then head off the road up the hill where we can camp. There won't be any problem. Let's quit wasting time."

A few moments later the trio saw the small inn constructed of an odd combination of mud brick and wood with a branch and thatched roof. It was located a short distance off the road and nestled in lofty trees offering it shade in summer and protection from winter winds. Despite the warmth of the day they could smell a fire burning in the hearth and the delicious aroma of roasting beef wafted to their nostrils. A stable stood nearby that was almost as large as the inn itself. The outside seemed deserted but voices drifted through the unshuttered windows and there was obviously a crowd inside.

Glaucus, Marius and Brennus proceeded at an easy pace, not wishing to attract any attention -- that is until Glaucus suddenly reined in.

"What are you doing?" hissed Marius. "Keep going. They could be soldiers."

"They are soldiers," replied Glaucus in a low tone. "Look at the horses outside the stable. Only soldiers -- cavalry -- own horses like that." To Marius' shock Glaucus guided Ultor off the road and towards the inn where he remained astride as he hunched over and gazed in the window. His friends could only follow and wonder about his state of mind.

Suddenly a soldier meandered out of the door and headed to the bushes where he fumbled with his trousers before unleashing a long stream of yellow pee, accompanied by a satisfied sigh. He was not just a soldier but an officer, wearing the wine-colored wool that identified his rank. He was without his cape and cuirass because of the unofficial nature of his visit to the inn. Finished, he turned and looked straight at the three mounted men. He nodded a friendly greeting before returning to the company of the legionnaires.

Marius grabbed Ultor's bridle and tried to pull the horse away but the animal stubbornly stood his ground, not prepared to obey any man but the one on his back. Frantically, Marius hissed to Glaucus, "Your father's sword. Pray he didn't see it! Let's get away from here before more come out!"

Deep in thought, Glaucus allowed Ultor to follow the two other horses and a short time later they were leading their horses up a steep, dirt path that ran east off the main road. They climbed until the path got too rocky and steep to negotiate in the impending darkness then found a relatively flat grassy spot under the pines on which to camp for the night, near a gurgling mountain stream. It was warm enough to sleep unprotected and the sky was clear so the trio simply rolled into blankets around a low-burning fire after a meal of dried meat, biscuits, cheese and wine.

Almost immediately Marius started to snore but Glaucus just couldn¹t get comfortable. He shifted in his blanket as a sharp rock gouged his hip. Then his shoulder wasn't comfortable to he wriggled again until he found a softer patch of grass. Sounds that usually lulled him to sleep simply annoyed him tonight. The stream sounded like a waterfall, the crickets like cawing crows. He rolled to his stomach and cradled his head on his folded hands. Brennus was asleep now too, his sighs accompanying Marius' snorts like two out-of-tune trumpets. Glaucus sat up, sleep an impossibility. His mind was too agitated, his body too tense. Was it his proximity to a man he had hated all of his adult life that bothered him tonight? Quintus was somewhere out there just beyond his grasp, breathing the same air, seeing the same stars. Maybe he drank from the same stream that had watered them that night. Maybe he had stopped for rest at this exact spot where Glaucus now sat. The man who had betrayed his father not once, but twice, was within his grasp and he could almost taste the sweet bitterness of the praetorian's impending death.

But what of the daughter? He hadn't counted on a child... hadn't been aware that Quintus had ever been married. What would become of the girl after he killed Quintus?

Why should he care?

But he did care. He thought of Maxima... and he did care. His original intention was just to confront the man, demand to hear his explanation for what he did, command him to reveal what had happened to Maximus before his death in the arena... then run his sword through his gut. Now, he felt that he needed more time to access the situation. He needed to watch Quintus and the girl before deciding how to proceed. He needed to evaluate their relationship.

And -- he admitted it -- he wanted to prolong the man's agony at knowing his life was about to end on a lonely mountainside in Gaul. He wanted him to writhe in the knowledge that his grave would be the rocky ground of his useless farm and that no one would mourn him, not even his daughter. Yes... that's what Glaucus wanted -- to turn daughter against father right before the man's eyes. He needed time to do that. Time.

Glaucus sat on a rock and pulled a piece of grass from the ground then stuck the succulent end between his teeth. He raked his hand through his hair, surprised, once again, to find it so short. He pulled his hand forward and the short, soft curls fell over his forehead in a fringe. His father had worn his hair like that. Glaucus patted it flat and smoothed it forward with his palm, slick and unfussy, as befitting a Roman general who had other things on his mind besides his appearance. The image of the drawing came to his memory unbidden. He stood and drew his blanket over his shoulders, letting the end just brush his knees. His father had worn a cape... and a brass cuirass, carved with the head of a wolf. He would dearly love to have his father's uniform... the plumed helmet and the silver pelts. They were gone. Lost.

But his uniform hadn't been that much different from the ones that Roman officers still wore these days -- like the man at the inn. His tunic had been the color of the wine produced in the valley below.

A plan started to formulate in Glaucus' mind. How would Quintus react if confronted by the living, breathing image of the commander that he had betrayed... of the man he thought long dead? All it would take is a bit of preparation and lots of nerve.

And Glaucus had plenty of the latter.

Chapter 59 - Quintus

Marius awoke to sun spots dancing on his eyes through the swaying branches overhead. He stretched luxuriously but didn't open his eyes lest he lose the vision of the woman with soft white skin and eyes bluer that the sea. And he smiled. As often happens, his mind had worked on the dilemma of their class differences as he had slept and he awoke with a clear understanding of how to solve the problem. The vision of Maxima smiled back at him. "Glaucus," he called. "I've solved the problem. It's simple. All you have to do is adopt her. I know it's not very usual but I'm sure we could work something out."

He opened his eyes and rolled over to enjoy the look on his companion's face as he marveled at his brilliance. But in an instant he was on his feet in shock. There stood Glaucus in wine-colored tunic and cape, a brass cuirass dangling from his hand, his father's ornate sword at his hip, his own black boots on his feet.

"Wha... wha...," was all Marius could manage.

"You look like a soldier," said Brennus, stating the obvious as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Where did you get that?" demanded Marius, even though he already knew.

Glaucus grinned with great satisfaction. "It was easy. The soldiers made the mistake of leaving their gear with their horses. I simply waited until the stable boy fell asleep then helped myself."

"Are you mad!" shouted Marius then recoiled in shock as his voice echoed off the rocks and bounced back to him. "May the gods have mercy on you," he hissed. "Stealing from a soldier... impersonating a soldier... that should earn you a place in the Tullian dungeon if nothing will."

"I won't get caught. Besides, I just want to borrow them for a while then I'll return them."

"The poor stable boy will be in big trouble," commented Brennus, imaging himself in the unfortunate boy's place.

"Yes... well, I'll make it up to him when I return these things. I just intend to scare the life out of Quintus and, judging by the look on your face, it should be effective."

"You're crazy. It isn't worth it," exclaimed Marius.

"Everything I've done is crazy. Why should this be any different?" Glaucus started to pack his belongings, not willing to listen to any more objections. He stopped and straightened. "Look... I've been thinking about this. This is my job to do and I don't want to implicate either of you any further. Especially you, Brennus. Marius, I'd appreciate it if you'd take Brennus back into town and wait for me there."

Marius stubbornly folded his arms and indicated his negative response by spreading his legs and standing his ground.

They glared at each other for a long time, neither man giving an inch.

Finally Glaucus said slowly, "You can forget the idea of adoption. It would mean Julia renouncing her parentage of Maxima--"

Marius' shoulder's sagged. "I hadn't thought about that. I suppose..."

"--and she'd never do that. I'd never ask her to."

"There must be a way--" started Marius, as he took a step towards Glaucus and pleaded with voice and hands.

His friend's confidence temporarily broken, Glaucus insisted, "Do you mind if we discuss this at some other time? Take Brennus back to town and wait at the tavern until I return." Glaucus threw his pack over Ultor's back and started leading the horse up the hill, very aware of two pairs of angry eyes boring into his back.

Quintus awoke as usual to the sounds and smells of his daughter removing the day's bread from the oven. He had been dreaming -- as he always did -- of another time... another place. It never failed to shock and then depress him when he opened his eyes to realize where he was and all that had passed since the long-ago time in his dream.

He rubbed his eyes, the skin around them lose and wrinkled. He avoided looking at his reflection now and refused to have a mirror in the house since he had caught an unexpected daylight view of himself in the small pond and been shocked by what he saw. His neat, soldier-trimmed hair was whispy-thin and completely gray, his cleanly-shaven face haggard The vertical scars between his brows extended upwards towards his receded hairline, intersecting with deep horizontal furrows. Matching creases down the sides of his nose and mouth gave him a perpetually angry look. And he was thin, painfully thin, and somewhat stooped from years of labor in fields of rocky clay. It was a terrible shock to a man who still imagined himself to be a straight, strong, commanding soldier of the emperor. His reflection that day had shattered that myth. His soldiering days were long past... the days of discipline and marching, intrigue and warring, glory and fortune. No one would guess now at what he had once achieved and how far he had fallen, and he wanted to keep it that way. He still maintained his morning routine of bathing and shaving but there was no one but his daughter to look at him now and she rarely did. But, a soldier would do no less. A soldier of Marcus Aurelius' Felix III would do no less.

Quintus rolled from bed and winced at the familiar pain that almost shattered his stiffened spine. The acute discomfort started every night long before he woke and possibly triggered the persistent dreams. He knew the pain would subside once he got moving but it was getting worse every year.

As he forced his aching back to straighten into the vertical lines of the soldier he wondered how long it would be before he was totally crippled.

Clara heard him stirring and placed a bowl of hot porridge on the table for him. She had already eaten hers -- the only food they'd consume until evening when their chores were done. At least, when her father's chores were done. Clara worked from the moment she got up to the moment she went to bed, far too exhausted to dream of her life as it had been in Rome when she was a child -- before the death of Emperor Pertinax and her father's disgrace. She barely remembered anything about those days now and wondered if the indistinct images that sometimes flitted through her thoughts of grand buildings and people in elegant clothing were real or only a manifestation of her longing.

She didn't mind the lack of mirrors in the house. She, too, preferred to think of herself as she had been when she had first arrived in Gaul, frightened of the stranger she called "father" -- a pretty child with shining auburn hair and light brown eyes and a ready, dimpled smile. Her creamy skin was darkened by the sun now, and her gleaming locks were pulled back and tied with a leather thong -- a nuisance rather than an asset.

The door bounced shut behind her as Quintus entered the main room of the small, two-room house and took his place at the table. It was just as well she elected not to dine with him. They had nothing to say to each other. He was still hungry when he finished but he was used to that. Food had to be rationed, even in early summer, or they'd never survive the winter. He rose and dumped his dish in the pail of water before heading back to the small room that housed his bed as well as a rough-hewn side table and a crude wooden chair. He took up his razor, as he always did, while staring out the tiny, distorted window. He wiped the precious glass (so rare in these parts and the one little luxury in his life) with a rag -- as he always did -- then proceeded to drag the razor across the meager whiskers on his chin while gazing out at the trees beside the trail -- as he always did. It was the only time of the day he was allowed the luxury of simply appreciating the beauty of his surroundings rather than regarding the land as something to be tamed and forced to his will. His eyes settled on the tallest pine just at the top of the trail... and his hand stopped moving in mid-stroke.

He leaned forward and squinted, then wiped the window again. Something was different today. The shadow at the base of the tree was thicker than usual. Considerably thicker. And it seemed to have legs.

Carefully, Quintus lay down his razor and wiped his face. He grabbed the sword that was positioned at the side of the main door and pushed it open slowly, peering through the crack between the door and frame. It was a man on a horse. He could see that clearly now. But most locals didn¹t ride horses in these parts. It was a big, powerful horse -- a soldier's horse. A little chill played down his spine and he shivered. What would a soldier want with him? Deciding it was better to approach the soldier unarmed, he placed the sword back by the door then stepped out into the morning sunlight.

"Are you Quintus Clarus?" a deep voice called out from the shadows.

Quintus straightened his back, threw back his shoulders and drew up his chin. "Yes, I am Quintus Clarus. What do you want with me, soldier?"

"The Quintus Clarus who was second in command under General Maximus Decimus Meridius in the reign of Marcus Aurelius?"

Quintus grew uneasy. How would this soldier, who sounded so young, know that? This soldier who sounded... like Maximus. His heart started to pound and his breathing grew shallow. Maximus? It looked so much like Maximus from this distance. He shielded his eyes for a better view.

Clara rounded the side of the house then skidded to a halt, her hand to her mouth in alarm.

"I am that man," responded Quintus, warily. "Will you identify yourself, sir, and state your business?"

Glaucus nudged Ultor a few paces from the tree and into the sunshine where he allowed the huge, black stallion to prance, his muscles quivering and tail billowing. "I am your worst nightmare, sir."

Clara gasped.

"Maximus?" Quintus choked and grasped his throat. "I... I knew you'd eventually come for me. The.. the dreams. I knew it." Quintus dropped to his knees in the dirt, his hands raised as if to ward off a blow, his whole body quivering.

The horse moved closer. "You fear me, Quintus? And why might that be?"

"The... the dreams. I dream of you every night. Wh... when we were young together in the army. They are dreams of a better time, but I knew they were a portent of evil. I knew it," said Quintus, his words ending in a whine of sheer terror. He covered his face with shaking hands.

Clara dropped to her knees beside her father and wrapped him protectively in her arms then turned her face up to the soldier on the horse. "Who are you, sir? State your business with my father!" Her voice was calm and commanding.

Glaucus regarded the woman who had so valiantly thrown herself between him and her father. She was small, her arms barely encircling her father despite his thinness, and dressed in the very plain, brown skirts of a farm woman.

The fabric was worn and neatly patched in many places. Her skin was smudged with dirt as if she had just started her morning chores when he had so rudely entered their lives. Her hands and face were tan -- almost as dark as his own skin -- and unfashionable freckles danced across her upturned nose.

"Pretty," Glaucus thought, "but pitiful"... and he quickly cast aside that unwanted emotion. He slowly drew the sword and extended his arm, holding it vertically before his face. He summoned his deepest voice. "I am Maximus Decimus Glaucus, son of Maximus Decimus Meridius... and I am here to avenge his death."

Quintus clutched at his daughter's soiled skirt as she continued to rail at the intruder. "Get off our property! Go! Leave us alone! You have no reason to be here!"

Glaucus urged Ultor forward until the animal towered over the cowering man, but Clara bravely continued her tirade. "Who are you," she screamed at Glaucus, "that you dare say such things to my father. Leave here at once!"

"This is between me and your father. Stay out of it," snarled Glaucus.

"But who are you? We've never even seen you before. How can you say such things about my father?"

Glaucus nudged Ultor into a walk, slowly encircling the pair, forcing Clara to twist around in order to keep him in site. "So, she doesn't know, Quintus? You didn't tell her?" he taunted. "You didn't tell her how you betrayed the man who was your leader and friend, not once but twice... that you killed him?"

"She knows nothing," muttered Quintus in a muffled, trembling voice. "What I have done has nothing to do with her. Leave her alone."

"Then you admit it!" Glaucus trumpeted before he addressed Clara. "He didn't tell you that he betrayed his general... the man who was named emperor of Rome... for his own personal gain? That he--"

"I was merely following orders. I carried out my emperor's wishes--"

"You carried out the wishes of the man who had just murdered his father! The emperor!"

"No... no it was not like that. I believed the emperor died of natural causes. I truly did."

Glaucus was tired of the intimidation. He now wanted answers. His eyes constantly on Quintus, he dismounted and slapped Ultor on the rump to send him into the shade of the trees. He pointed the tip of his father's sword at Quintus' pinched face. "Do you recognize this?"

"Yes," gasped the man on the ground as his daughter slowly rose. "How did you get it?"

"I'll ask the questions, not you, and I have a lot of them. Let's start at the beginning. What happened the night that Marcus Aurelius was murdered in Germania? I want details.

Suddenly Clara flew at him, grasping his shoulders in an attempt to pull the sword away from her father's face. Glaucus reacted instinctively by raising his arm in defense. With a crunch, his elbow connected with her jaw sending her summersaulting backwards into the dirt. He turned, startled, and started to apologize but Clara was on her feet in a flash and she lunged at his face, her nails raking his cheek before he could push her off again. She sprawled in the dirt again and that's where Glaucus intended to keep her this time. "Stay where you are," he snarled as he wiped the oozing blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. He turned the sword on her, wondering who was the more dangerous of the two, and directed, "Move over beside your father where I can watch you both."

"Don't do this," pleaded Clara as she crawled to sit beside her father who was now weeping softly.

"I owe it to my father to find answers."

"This isn't for your father. If it is as you claim, he died years ago. It's for you!" accused Clara.

"Your father was not a vengeful man," added Quintus.

"Oh yes he was," snarled Glaucus as he turned the sword back on Quintus. "He killed Commodus to avenge the death of his wife and son... my mother and brother."

"No, that was not the reason he did so," claimed Quintus who had regained much of his composure.

"Shut your mouth, bastard!"

"I was there," Quintus insisted. "I know."

In a fury, Glaucus grasped the man's hair and yanked his head back, pressing the sword against his throbbing jugular vein. "What do you know? Tell me!"

"He can't talk with a sword at his throat," said Clara. "Let him stand."

Very slowly, Glaucus lowered the sword until the tip rested in the dust, but his fist still knotted Quintus' hair. "Now talk," he ordered.

"Let him stand!" demanded Clara as she regained her feet. "If you want to hear what he has to say, let him stand."

With a sharp jerk, Glaucus withdrew his hand and sent Quintus tumbling into the dirt. Clara rushed to her father and helped him to stand. Trembling again, the farmer faced Glaucus. "Let us sit at my table like civilized men.

We will talk over wine."

"I'll not accept any of your hospitality, traitor," Glaucus hissed.

"Let him at least sit down. You can do as you wish," pleaded Clara. At Glaucus' nod she assisted her father towards their small home. A disinterested, decrepit donkey munched on grass not far from the door and a few chickens scattered as they approached. At the door, Glaucus ordered them to halt and raised his sword to Quintus' neck again then he grabbed the man by his tunic and jerked him backwards slightly. Cautiously, Glaucus peered inside to access the situation. The place was deserted. As Glaucus entered, his foot connected with something metallic and he kicked the sword across the room with a clatter. The broom beside the door quickly followed. At his curt nod, Clara and Quintus followed him into the room and the man slumped into a chair at the wooden dining table.

It was a hovel. The main room was no larger than his bedroom had been in his apartment at the insula in Rome. A bed was tucked into a corner and covered neatly in a colorful blanket made of pieces of fabric stitched together. It was one of the few splotches of color in the entire room. The earthen floor was rock hard softened only by two hand-braided rugs, one near the table and one beside Clara's bed. Coals from a dying fire sizzled in a small hearth that dominated the end wall where blackened pots hung from hooks in rough wooden beams that stretched from wall to wall beneath the thatched roof. The only furniture was the crude table and two chairs. Obviously, they were not accustomed to visitors. Off the main room was a much smaller space, big enough for only a cot, a small table and one chair. Quintus' room, Glaucus surmised. At least he let his daughter sleep in the warmer space. His eyes continued to travel around the room searching for potential weapons. Other than the pots and poker, he could see none.

Glaucus turned his back to the room and confronted Quintus with folded arms.

"Talk," he ordered.

Chapter 60 - Quintus' Version

"First, tell me who you are," said Quintus as he peered up at the soldier who stood with legs braced wide apart and arms folded. Challenging. Threatening.

"I already told you," Glaucus growled.

"That is not possible," protested Quintus. "Maximus had only one child -- a son, Marcus -- and he is dead...," his voice trailed off. Clearly Quintus was sure of nothing now.

"Oh yes, he is dead. I am his second son by his wife, Olivia. The praetorians didn't find me that terrible day and I lived."

"But, Maximus talked about his family frequently. He never mentioned a second son. I knew he had a daughter who died, but not a son."

Glaucus didn't feel like explaining anything to this man and he shifted impatiently to stand beside the hearth facing the broken light from the shuttered window. "My face says who I am."

Quintus shook his head slowly, a confused frown deepening the furrows in his forehead. "You are the image of Maximus. But--"

Glaucus stopped the question before it started. "That night in Germania. I want details."

Quintus shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, which creaked despite his meager weight. Clara rose and turned away from both men, walking to the window and pushing open the shutters. Her slender arms hugged her stomach as if trying to insulate herself from this sudden and stunning intrusion into her simple life.

"Sit down," Glaucus barked at her. "You'll move only when I tell you to."

Clara swung around and tossed him a glare before she hurried towards the cupboard beside the table. "I need to get him some wine. My father's back aches and the wine helps."

Glaucus already knew that this confidant woman was not about to be intimidated by him or anyone else. He moved slightly so he could watch her pour the liquid, making sure that she was not pocketing some kitchen utensil that could be a potential weapon. He wondered how old she was. Older than him, for sure. She had slight lines at the corners of her eyes and a slender but mature figure. In her late twenties maybe?

Clara placed the wine before her father then slipped into her seat again. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and looked at her father expectantly, curious about his story too.

Glaucus braced a hand on the hearth mantle and turned his attention back to Quintus who stared at his cup but did not drink. "That night the emperor died," Glaucus prompted. "Tell me what happened before my father was summoned to Marcus Aurelius¹ bedroom."

Quintus gazed at the wall with its irregular, hand-shaped mud bricks, but his eyes focussed on the past. "I was awakened by a praetorian and told to dress then I was escorted to Marcus' Aurelius' quarters where Commodus and Lucilla were already mourning their father. The emperor -- the former emperor -- lay stretched out peacefully on his bed. There was no sign of struggle or violence. Commodus told me that he had died in his sleep and I believed him. Marcus Aurelius had been very ill, after all. It was not hard to believe. Commodus told me that he had chosen me to be his new Praetorian Commander and that I was to assume responsibility immediately. He told me that the empire would be in an uproar when the people learned of their beloved emperor's death and, because of Commodus' youth, men may try to topple the throne, throwing the empire into strife and civil war. Commodus needed to quickly establish his authority and eliminate anyone who indicated that they might defy him."

Quintus took a long drink from his clay cup... much longer than necessary. Glaucus was just about to prompt him again when he continued. "Maximus was the first man I was told to summon. He loved Marcus Aurelius and was very distressed to find him dead. Commodus offered Maximus his hand and told him that he expected his loyalty. I have no doubt that Commodus wanted Maximus to continue in his capacity as commander of the northern legions but Maximus refused to accept his hand and turned away, calling me to follow him. He was angry, I could tell. My heart sank. I knew he had just sealed his own fate." Quintus took another gulp of wine then handed the cup to Clara to refill. She did so quickly, then sat down again with her elbows on the table and her chin propped in her hands.

Quintus continued, "I gathered a number of praetorians and went to Maximus' room where we found him already dressed in his armor. I heard him order Cicero, his servant, to summon the senators. I figured then that Commodus was right about Maximus and that he intended to cause unnecessary trouble. They had never liked each other since they were boys. I thought Maximus was being unreasonable. He tried to tell me that Marcus Aurelius had been murdered and I cautioned him about the prudence of saying such things." Quintus turned to face Glaucus who stood gazing into the glowing embers of the morning fire. "Maximus had the complete loyalty of the army... every man. If he had wanted to, he could have caused great trouble for Commodus and the empire. Civil war. We couldn't go through that." Quintus turned to Clara, searching for understanding from his daughter. She looked back at him impassively.

"So you issued the order for his execution. You... his friendŠ his colleague," Glaucus accused.

"Yes," said Quintus quietly. "It was the right thing to do. My emperor gave the order. It was my duty to carry it out."

"Your duty," sneered Glaucus. "It was a travesty of justice."

"I didn't know that then! You're a soldier. You know what it means to obey... to fulfill your duty to your emperor."

Glaucus shifted uncomfortably, the cuirass suddenly feeling heavy and hot, then shoved away from the hearth and approached the table slowly, threateningly. "If my father knew that Marcus Aurelius had been murdered, why didn't you?"

"I... I could see no validity in Maximus' claim. It seemed absurd. Commodus had no reason to kill his father. He would have inherited the throne within a few months anyway when his father died."

Clara's wide eyes swiveled from one man to the other, a small frown creasing her brow as she followed the astounding conversation.

"And when did you finally figure out that my father was right?" demanded Glaucus.

"Much, much later."

"After his death."

Quintus' head drooped. "Just before."

Glaucus nodded in satisfaction. "And exactly how much do you know now, Quintus? Do you know that you issued the order to execute the rightful and true emperor of Rome? Do you know that the day of his death, Marcus Aurelius had named my father his heir and that contracts were signed?" Glaucus banged both fists on the table causing the wine cup to jump and spill. Everyone ignored the spreading red stain. "Do you know that, Quintus?" Glaucus bellowed. "And as if that wasn't enough, you issued the order to kill his family too! His wife and innocent son... in Spain... who had nothing to do with any of this!" Glaucus barely registered Clara's look of horror before he grabbed the sides of the table and heaved it up and backwards, sending Quintus sprawling to the floor, his splintered chair under him and the upturned table on top. He lay there in a heap, as Glaucus continued his tirade. "My mother and brother! My father! My family! All dead because of you!"

Clara had leaped backwards when Glaucus had grabbed the table and she retreated until her knees struck her bed and she sank down, stunned, unsure what the furious soldier would do next. Unsure of her father's shady role in Roman history. Unsure of everything.

Glaucus heaved the table to the side then used his booted foot to turn Quintus to his back, his unsheathed sword once again pressed to the man's throat. "And that wasn't the last time you betrayed Maximus, was it? Even after you started to suspect that you had been wrong, you continued playing the role, didn't you? Praetorian Commander for the corrupt Commodus. Your ambition clouded your judgment again and again."

Quintus closed his eyes and remained mute, his gullet convulsing as he swallowed bile.

"His last hours, Quintus. Tell me about the escape attempt, his capture, and that final fight in the arena." Glaucus twisted the sword until a drop of blood trickled down the prone man's throat.

Quintus gulped again, coughed, then started to talk.

Maximus Decimus Glaucus

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