By way of introducing some characters and setting some scenes

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Disclaimer:
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2014 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories are also copyright (c) 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Max led the group away from the river, along the narrow but well-worn track through the trees, in the direction of the main road that ran roughly north-east/south-west through the closely packed woodland in this part of the seemingly endless forest.

Outwardly, Max was his usual hard-faced and efficient self; the under-officer that ran a very tight unit. Inwardly though he had some reservations about this move, despite the given reasons being valid; it just seemed wrong to abandon a perfectly good fort, built with usual efficiency in a perfectly normal layout and with a plentiful supply of water. Yes, the vegetable gardens had been washed away – again – by the rains; yes, the fort had been built for about 100 and there were only 42 of us on this, the last night; yes, the roar of the waterfalls did get on your nerves; yes, there was virtually no strategic reason to be stuck away where no enemy could possibly penetrate; yes, the lignite and soft coal mining was important as the Empire struggled to maintain its wide-spread borders, and the recent expansion of Saxum Nigra needed some protection; yes, there was nothing to do but hunt where we were …......

And yet. And yet. And yet.

It just felt wrong somehow. Maybe his thoughts were clouded by the killing of Gai. He was determined to solve THAT little mystery, but his orders now took him away from the scene. He idly wondered if that was another reason for his orders. Gai had been his friend and Max missed the discussions they had had.

Gradually, the roar of the falls behind them subsided and the normal forest noises gained their prominence, broken only by the inevitable sounds of a large party under way – footfalls, breathing, coughing, sniffles, farts, desultory conversation, jangles of the harnesses on the fraena, soft curses at a sudden stumble. As always happened, some shortish while into a march through densely planted forest woodlands, usually around half a campana, the conversations died out as the oppressive nature of thick woodlands took over.

However, by that time, on that day, they were nearing the main road. As a result, and with the increase of the ambient light and the possibility of perhaps meeting someone else, the chatter was reignited.

When they emerged from the trees, they stepped up the slight increase in height onto the road surface. Once there, they turned left to go north, away from the valley's entrance. They all knew they were headed for the foot of the rock face, now visible through the tunnel of the overhanging trees, although still some distance ahead of them.

Several of them had never been further than the turn-off to the now-abandoned fort, so for them there was the added emotion of new landscape, always assuming that the ever-present trees allowed some views sometime. Max, though, knew that the rock-face effectively blocked the valley, a small lake as a branch from the river met the edge of the rock-face thus making a natural barrier. Most travellers stopped for a rest at the foot of that rock-face as the road climbed relatively steeply across the exposed stone until it reached the foot of a small peak that they called “Street Helm”. This was because its shape, apparently, resembled a pointed warrior's helm.

Behind them, and down the valley from the level of the fort, the road distanced itself from the river and then reached a point where it started to climb out of the valley to cross another large stream. The road then climbed more and eventually joined a cross-mountain trade route that went all the way north to a remote jungle city called Tscharn, many weeks march away.

The river itself, called the Praebella (this full name was usually shortened to just Prae) as it was a significant tributary to the big Bella river, dropped over a large jumbled falls, many paces wide, some said even a millus, before consolidating again. It then neared the road once more, just there at the point where the road started to climb, creating a very narrow valley entrance, which would be quite defensible given the trees and the river and the valley edge. The west bank of the Prae was largely unexplored, there being no easily found access.

The valley then continued for many milla downstream, the Prae joining the main Bella river near the town of Trifluvium, and just before another strong tributary, the Sufum, joined in. As the town name suggested, the three rivers came together at that point. The Sufum valley was rich in ore, and it was from the ore mined here that most of the weapons carried by the warriors were forged.

Continuing downstream from Trifluvium, the Bella twisted and turned until it reached a natural choke-point at the town of Halcyon. This got its name from a story favoured by one of the early Chivans in which a woman was turned into a screeching avis. And there were many screeching avia indeed at this narrow gorge between two high cliffs.

Further down the Bella valley, there was another confluence where the Tedlus river joined the Bella; the town of Tedlum had grown there. And some twenty-five or more milla downstream from there, a massive castle had been built where the side valley of the Bella met the side of a huge valley belonging to another winding river called the Cyrillus. This fastness, built round the nose of the cliff that defined the two valleys, was called Decarinium.

The Cyrillus river wound its way between quite steep valley walls; these walls were an estimated fifty or sixty milla apart. The river course stayed basically the same but the rains and the autumnal storms sometimes cut off bends or created others. As is probably obvious, the Bella flowed into the Cyrillus. Where the two met, on a slight rise in the centre of that wide valley, the main town of the Chivans had sprung up, called somewhat unimaginatively Bellarend.

A long way away thought Max – over 150 milla, nearer 200. A long way to come to do nothing ….......

Max's thoughts were jerked back from the town in which he was born by a question from one of his fellow travellers.

“Decanus! Are we to stop for water at the resting place ahead?”

“We have barely come two milla, we have another twenty and more to go, and you want to stop already?”

“It's the women, Decanus. And the other! They suggest that we stop before committing to two or three campana without the possibility of relief.”

Max sighed. His rank indicated that he was the man in charge of a Contubernium, eight legionaries, the basic unit of the legions. Here, in this country that is apparently so different from the 'Old Country' the ancient legends talk about, the name Contubernium had been shortened to 'Tube', and the number of legionaries in a Tube was twelve nowadays. Sometimes, Tube leaders such as himself were also addressed as 'Tube', but it was rare, the title 'Decanus' was by far more widely used, and even it's diminutive 'Dec'. He had, for today, appointed two other Decs – Julius Marcellus in the 2nd Tube, and Felix Cato for the 3rd Tube.

So here he was, in nominal charge of a dozen men, leading 35 legionaries, 5 women and one other person through a remote and dense forest on a rarely used route that led to a dead-end. And they had barely started when a halt had to be called. Their one advantage was that they were travelling light, their personal belongings had been taken by wagon the day before so they had just their overnight things with them. If you could call having eight pack fraena with them “travelling light”.

What was this man's army coming to?

And so the party was soon to be halted, mainly for the women to empty their tiny bladders. It always amazed Max that they 'went' so frequently and then immediately drank again, as if they couldn't operate without a full bladder. Strange creatures, women. To be honoured, of course, for their gifts of motherhood, but he would die before he even came close to understanding them, particularly the way they thought. Things that were important to them were so unimportant to most men, scarce noticed indeed. And yet somehow a woman could make a man feel bad about something that really wasn't important, just by a glance and/or a facial expression. Very strange creatures indeed.

But not as strange as that Antonia.

Max acknowledged that, as well as never going to be able to understand women, he would never be able to understand why some men would want to live dressed as a woman all the time, and to be treated as a woman, and to adopt the gestures of a woman. Antonia was not the only one like this in this strange world, there was indeed an established tradition of this sort of behaviour, but Antonia was the only one that had been at the fort last night, and thus the only one in his party of travellers. She did look good though, Max had to admit. Until you saw the hands and the neck and the width of the shoulders, and the waist and the feet, the assumption was immediately made that this was simply a tall woman. The fall of the clothes worked well to hide many of the 'defects'. You just had to get to know her a bit before all the little clues ran together.

It was still a mystery to Max why she decided some days to wear whore's colours on her robes, and some days not. Today was one of those days and she matched impeccably with the two 'proper' whores in their party. The other three women tended to keep some distance from these three, and even the other two sometimes showed some reluctance to be with Antonia. But strangely, it was the two 'proper' ones who were the prettiest, with Antonia, when regarded objectively, as the third prettiest of the six.

They turned off the road again, to take the few paces down to the lakeside at the foot of the sheer rockface they would soon have to traverse in a climb.

Max was surprised to see a full half-dozen wagons were there, all lightly loaded with goods, the wagon-drivers supervising the dranacae as the beasts took on water.

Max's soldierly instincts made him switch immediately into high-alert mode.

“Hold!” called Max rapidly. “All of you, wait here. Be prepared to defend yourself. 3rd Tube, guard everyone here, keep the six women in your middle. 2nd Tube, outer guard, check the trees around here for an ambush, four teams of three, you know the drill. 1st Tube, come with me to question these men. All of you, be alert and ready to call out a warning. Here one of you, take my hasta.” He handed over his long spear to a man from the 3rd.

Brandishing his drawn gladius, his eyes dancing every way as he evaluated danger lines, he approached the wagon men, his bearing upright and unafraid.

Unlike the men he was approaching.

They had looked up at the sound of swords being drawn and the peremptory commands that had been called out. To see suddenly a dozen armed men approaching them out of what had been an empty forest road must have been bad enough, but the leader of these soldiers was a giant, at least a head taller than most men, and he was flanked by two more men only a hand's width shorter. All had eyes that missed nothing and they wielded their swords in a very professional way.

“Which of you is your leader?” called Max as he approached.

“We have none, Centurion!”

“Then gather all of you together, as a group. I am on the lookout for trickery. If you are peaceful, then there will be no trouble, but may the Gods help you if I find any of you untrustworthy.”

The man released their guiding hands from the beasts and quickly clumped together. Max and his two flankers stepped forward to question the unarmed men, Max's hands flicking signals to the others to keep an eye out for anyone else.

“My name is Maximus Aurelius – I am not a Centurion, nor even an Optio, I am currently an unpaid and temporary Tesserarius. My official rank is Decanus. Now who are you and whither are you bound?”

The men all looked at each other but none spoke.

Max prodded one with the tip of his gladius: “You. You are now their leader. Name?”

“Dinavanus, Tesserarius. From Trifluvium.” The man managed to stutter in reply.

“Why so many of you? Where are you going? What are your orders?”

“We are sent to Saxum Nigra. We each have to pick up as full a load of the black stone that burns, that they call coal, as possible and bring it down to some new craftplace just this side of Tedium.”

“Tedium?”

“A poor attempt at a joke, Tesserarius. It's what we from Trifluvium call Tedlum. I apologise.”

“How many are you?”

“Just us six, Tesserarius.”

Max relaxed slightly and for the first time took his eyes off the men, knowing that his flankers would not. His eyes scattered round at the others in his party and both Felix Cato and Julius Marcellus, the Tube leaders today, indicated that they detected no dangers. But also indicated that they would continue to be alert.

“Stand easy, but wary. Bring the women down here. Let them piss and drink.”

And so the two groups mingled together eventually. Max and Dinavanus (call me 'Din') striking up the beginnings of a friendship.

When a quarter of a campana had passed, Max stretched and called his group together to continue their march.

“Max, you could ride on our wagons, at least up the slope across the rock face.” There were some grumbles from the other drivers when Din suggested that.

“We was told, no travellers!”

“And we have no coin to pay you, so I must reluctantly ….”

One of the other drivers called out: “We wouldn't need no coin, Tesserarius.” His eyes flashed around his companions and then nodded at the six people in the middle of Max's group.

Cautiously, Max replied: “Then how would you be persuaded, driver?”

“You has three whores with you, Tesserarius. And we ain't seen no woman for a month 'n more.” The other drivers all nodded enthusiastically, including Din.

“Well actually, we have only …..”

A hand , sweet-smelling, cupped itself across Max's lips, preventing him from talking. Antonia let her fingers slide along Max's chin and jaw once she had stopped him. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head before joining up with the other two. The pretty trio walked seductively across to the drivers who had all stopped talking and just stared at them as they approached.

Antonia selected the tallest of the drivers, the other two each chose one of the others and then the three couples slipped silently into the obscurity supplied by the surrounding dense woods.

It didn't take long before Antonia returned, followed by a grinning driver. She swung her hips as she went back down to the water. Max had rarely seen quite such a seductive walk produced by anyone in his life. A very, very sexy sway indeed. He knew what she was but still felt a stirring in his loins. She rinsed her mouth out thoroughly in the waters of the little lake. She then turned and indicated to Din that he should be the next. He moved as if his mind had been emptied. Max wondered if he should say something, but decided against it.

Soon one, and then the other, driver emerged from the tree line as did the women. They all washed themselves thoroughly before the two women took the final two drivers back into the semblance of some privacy.

They travelled on after a total further delay of maybe half a campana.

… … …

The wagons were approaching an end to the thick trees and all wondered if this was the upper edge of the forest or just another clearing. Max peered forward from his perch next to Din and when he realised that it was the forest's edge, he called a halt.

All his party jumped, slid, scrambled or tumbled down from the wagons and gathered together still inside the fringe of the trees. The drivers all waved and called farewells whilst Max got his party sorted out. The women all disappeared for a final 'natural break'. When all were present, Max addressed the entire group. He reminded them all that it would be better to not talk about the fact that they had ridden most of the way up here. The wagoners had been forbidden to pick up strangers and Max knew that anyone more senior than he would find some military reason that the entire 42 people should never have had an easy journey. The drivers had all been thankful that Max would keep quiet and so it was agreed that it would never be mentioned by any of them.

They all chatted together as Max allowed the wagons to get the best part of a millus away, despite it meaning a further delay. For once, during this short period, everyone was also talking with the three dressed as whores. Those others were all grateful that they had been spared much walking/marching, and it was their way of saying thank you.

Max formed his group into an orderly block and then they finally strode up the road and emerged from the forest into a dull, overcast day. His keen eyes picked out a rudimentary township, more of a hamlet actually, which he estimated to be some four or five milla distant. He had been told to just follow the road until its end, so that is what they would do. The roadbed was as straight as an hasta's shaft; yes, it undulated slightly, but then that is what they had had since the bend at the foot of the “Street Helm”. He had heard that behind the Street Helm, there was a stone quarry that had provided most of the road surface stone, but that the access road to it was not an easy passage, with streams, marshes and pools to negotiate. But that was the only even slightly industrialised location in all of this upper valley, except for Saxum Nigra itself. And he certainly didn't understand the need for that remote village.

Militarily, the country, once they were clear of the forest, was easy. No-one could approach them without being seen from a long distance, unless they too came out of the forest now behind them. Max had therefore posted a rearguard, with a token force on the flanks. The fraena were behind the women but before the rearguard. The company marched steadily towards that distant village.

Once again, Max allowed a part of his mind to wander, as he always did on long marches. He had never experienced a scare that would require him to switch into full concentration, but he was supremely confident that he would be able to do so. His mind took in the fact that they were approaching the very head of a valley, there were a few canyons to the sides and that the valley floor was relatively smooth, not too many deep folds or anything. The river, to his experienced eyes, appeared to be a little stronger than he would have expected from this sort of country, but it was not a very remarkable difference. He knew that time would eventually reveal all.

He knew also that the handful of scattered buildings up ahead must be Saxum Nigra, the most northerly 'town' it was possible to have in this valley. He furthermore knew that this was NOT the most northerly town in the Chivan Empire, that was Castellum Septentrionalis. Which was up the trade route to Tscharn, the trade route that they had long, long ago left to get into this valley of the Prae.

I wonder why we have renamed everywhere, mused Max, as his strides kept automatically to the strict military rhythm and cadence.

Max knew from contacts within the native population that they had their own names for places and hills and so on, but there was still this 'them and us' thinking even all this time, many generations after we Chivans reached here. For example, the river that fed the long, long valley into which this river we call the Prae flows, is named by the natives the 'Paller', and this part of the Chivan Empire used to be called simply 'Paller Land'. Or something like that anyway, their language and accent is very difficult sometimes. And apparently old Admiral Chivanus damaged an ear in the landing and he became partially deaf, so he just grabbed what he thought he had heard and used that for the names he assigned to places and things.

It is always difficult to be absolutely certain as to the truth being 'the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth' in all the tales of our many generations since landing here, however all the tales were fairly consistent about the absolute origins here on the continent we now call Alaesia.

After a severe storm endangered two packed ships travelling together, they were thrown together, literally, onto a marshy shore.

The ships had sailed from the ancient port of Ostia, along with another carrying horses and foodstuffs, bound for the expanding edge of the Empire just west of the city of Carthage in Africa.

The first ship contained most of the military, and their wives and families, and the masters of their trades, whilst the second ship contained the artisans; the road makers, the builders, the armourers, the farmers, the leather workers, the smiths, the wheelwrights, the cooks, the seamstresses ….. oh, all the many experienced personnel required to bring civilisation to barbarian lands. There were at least two of each and every profession.

Yes, there were also whores. Quite a few more than just two.

And a large group of those like Antonia, who wanted the freedom to live as they desired without any of the innuendo that had started to prevail in Roma, Pompeii and Neapolis. These people had always been tolerated, especially in Florentia, but recently had been increasingly frowned upon in most of the larger cities, and many slurs and insults were cast their way, particularly towards those who took a more submissive attitude in their sex lives. Somehow, being the penetrator was more acceptable than being the one penetrated. Whatever the reason, a large group of men who would be women had been gathered together by promises of more freedom for them to live as they would like to. They had also been joined by a small group of women who wanted to be men. Cynics suggested this was a way for the towns to clear out some unwanted citizens, so they made it sound attractive, and thus rid themselves of potential problems.

And so it came to pass that the three-ship flotilla set sail one sunny autumn morning, making their way out to sea and heading for the new lands. They successfully made passage to Feronia, on the large island of Sardiniam. In the next days, they slowly continued by following the coast southwards and then westwards until it curved back northwards after one final southern cape. With a ceremonial feast, the ships finally set out for their destination, still a long way off to the south-west. They knew they would be out of sight of land for some days, and that the passage would be difficult, being as it was into the prevailing winds.

On the third afternoon, almost into the evening, a storm brewed up from what had at first seemed like a small dark cloud which rapidly developed into a small dark cloud with a spout hanging from it. Everyone was amazed at the speed with which the sky was then covered by black and boiling clouds. The ship carrying the horses and foodstuff gave itself a little room from the other two, but those two were in the process of transferring a man from one to the other and were thus actually tied together just as the storm arrived. The winds and waves threw the hulls together constantly and many planks were sprung. The sailors of these ships fought all night long to save them but were losing the battle as the dawn arrived, not that there was much lightening of the skies, the clouds were still low, dark and angry. Of the third ship, there was no longer any sign. All were exhausted, every single one still aboard, for some had been cast into the angry waters. Each and every one of the survivors (so far) had collapsed, resigned to abandoning themselves to whatever fate the Gods had determined for them.

The twinned ships were unsteerable, most of their oars had been smashed and the sails torn away. No-one any longer knew which way was north, which was south. The wind and the waves drove the barely surviving, only just floating wrecks wherever they wanted to. Everyone on board these ships was at the very end of their strength when a hoarse shout of “Ware! Land!” was broken off as the ships crunched into some sort of terra firma. A particularly high series of waves lifted the hulks farther up the beach, or whatever it was, before the retreating tide left them shipwrecked and stranded on this unknown shore.

Such was their exhaustion that it took a long, long time before anyone stood and tried to gather more information. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours but some of the normally shaven men suggested that their beard growth indicated it was actually days. The storm was noticeably in abeyance by this time, the sun feeling quite hot to those who stayed out of any shade. Certainly, more than a few of the people had already received at the very least a light sun burn.

One brave soul decided to risk clambering down the side of the wreckage onto the land. The rope he used to aid his descent was just too short and he dropped the final few feet. He didn't exactly land, he more or less squelched. He pitched forward rather than landing in the sort of squatting position he had anticipated. His face met the surface and he found he was in a sort of marsh. Some of the brackish water went into his mouth and he was quick to spit it out.

“Pliff!” was the first sound that everyone heard on that strange land.

… … ...

Max's attention was brought back to the present by a warning cough from his neighbour. He looked ahead and saw two mounted men approaching on their fraena, having just passed the wagons ahead of them.

“Look sharp, now, men. Seems we are about to be cursed by officers.”

A titter ran round the ranks before each man made a mental check of his equipment and his bearing. The women and Antonia all brushed as much dust as they could from their robes and their hair.

… … …

“Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi, Decanus!” Max snapped off an impressive salute as he introduced himself.

“Stand easy, Decanus. Were there problems on the route? We expected you a campana ago.”

“Negative, Optio. It is to be regretted that military men are capable of faster marching than women are. And the women needed to do their 'business' as we progressed. I deem we have done very well, considering.”

“Hmmmmm. A good tale, and just believable, I suppose.”

Max's face flushed at the condescending tone and the implication of the Optio's remark, but he stayed rigidly at attention. The men, who had had a little grin at the double meaning when thinking about some of the women going about their 'business', all stiffened their spines as they got their first taste of what their new officer was like. Even Antonia's eyes narrowed a little and the women all darted glances at each other.

“Right then, Decanus. Show me how military men can really march. Leave a Tube behind to escort the women at their slow pace, and to lead your pack animals, and the rest of you can march to the encampment. I expect you to at least try to keep up with us as we will be riding ahead of you.”

“Optio,” Max said in acknowledgement of his orders. He looked round and saw Felix Cato and the 3rd Tube were nearest the women. “Dec Felix, your Tube on escort duty and to carry some of our extra baggage packs. The rest of you, lighten your loads as you can and form up on me in two minutes. Move.”

Max stepped forward counting.

A Chivan gradus was defined as a single step, and a passus as a double step, measured from the right heel. So the first gradus was the step which moved the left foot forward and the second gradus was the step that moved the right foot forward. The distance between the two positions of the right heel at the beginning and the end of a passus was a standard throughout all the legions and recruits soon learnt that distance. A single one of either of these measurements was, as mentioned, a gradus or a passus, whereas a plurality of these were called grada or passa, respectively. Roadstones were positioned every one thousand passa, which was called in full a 'mille passa'. But this had been contracted to a millus, or milla in the plural.

So Max counted five passa and came to a rigid attention at the left edge of the road. The other men all decided to ignore the load lightening just as Max had. This officer had annoyed them, and they would show the bastard what they could do. Within half a minute they were all lined up in four rows of six, Max being front and left. The man diagonally across that body of men from Max, the one back and right, knew by long custom that he should be the last to form up.
It was he who called: “Present!” when he was finally into position, to let Max know they were all lined up and ready to go.

The expected order was not long in coming: “At the double, march!”

And off they went, the standard cadence of 120 passa per minute being so engrained during their training that no-one need count. For the women it was an impressive sight to see 24 men on the point of running keep perfect formation while carrying shields, swords and spears. And the pace was breathtaking to the onlookers as well as the soldiers.

It suddenly dawned on the Optio that six men abreast effectively blocked the road, and there would be no place for he and his partner to overtake the rapid men, unless they took to the rough ground. His face showed his annoyance and he scrambled into the low-slung chair hanging awkwardly from the animal, shouting at his associate to get on his beast quickly. By the time they were ready to move on, the phalanx of quick-marching men were a good few hundred passa distant. The Optio's mood was not improved by a few feminine sniggers as he muddled away in pursuit, with his partner a few paces behind.

… … …

The fresh arrivals took notice of the fact that the road had maintained its straightness after crossing a shallow ford; a ford which allowed passage across a surprisingly strong side stream. This meant the road climbed up a slope by going across it, the hill climbing up further to the right, the east. A curious relatively flat area marked the end of the road and most of the inhabitants up here lived in tents pitched on this flatter area. There were some more permanent buildings straddling the road as it neared the flat area, but only a few.

Latrines had been dug down the slope from the road, towards the head of the river. Max had been right about the strength of the river lower down. This part of the river up here by the encampment had far too little water to create the strength of river he had seen further down the valley. That shallow ford just below the buildings and tents had crossed a largeish tributary that seemed to flow from a side canyon. The combination of both flows was obviously the cause of the effect Max had noticed. That was one minor mystery solved, then.

And so it was that the group from the abandoned fort joined those already stationed up in this remote village. Some acquaintances were renewed but most of the men were strangers to each other, a fact which all present knew would change quite shortly. They were now all on the same team and would have to forge new bonds, friendships and rivalries.

The women had been whisked off to prepared quarters, the wives joining their husbands. There was one large tent set aside at some distance for the whores, the two newcomers joining the four already here.

Antonia was reconnected with her 'sister', another like her who had gone on ahead to set up their home. The two of them had been together for years now, ever since they both discovered each other shortly after they came of age.

There was also a small camp of tents at the top of the village, where the land was quite flat but huddled under the valley's shoulder, which was more of a bowl up here, close to a dark and ugly scar in the hillside. There were some locals that lived in these tents, apparently.

By the time the new arrivals had built their accommodation and settled in, a final party had arrived from upslope to the east, and the sun had just disappeared over the ridge up to the west. That didn't mean it was dark, since the sun's rays were still shining fully on the peaks and crests to the east and the reflected light was more than adequate.

Once that extra party had arranged themselves and cleaned up after their working day, a bugle sounded which, it transpired, announced the evening muster and meal.

Max had been long enough in the army to be able to smile and nod and even have limited conversations while his mind was engaged on other subjects. He asked and received the information that there was a Tube on watch whilst the rest of them were all gathered together. His agile mind counted the numbers even as he was meeting and greeting other people. His 35 soldiers, and himself had added to the 12 on watch outside and the 72 others in here, making a total of 120 soldiers, plus the two officers, an Optio and a senior Tesserarius. About 30 of the men seemed to be married, and the two leaders were as well, so the extra 16 women were daughters and/or sweethearts. This all meant that there were some 168 people here, plus the 6 whores and the two others. 176 people in total. He fleetingly thought about the natives too, but, naturally, he dismissed them as being insignificant. Plus the 6 wagon drivers, but they were only here until their wagons could be loaded.

'This place must be a little more important than I realise,' he thought to himself. 'I shall have to discover more.'

The Muster was officially announced by a subdued bugle call and the officious Optio stood on a small dais to address everyone. 'Even then,' Max realised, 'he was still shorter than I'. Max carefully did not let anything show on his face at that thought, and he frowned at a couple of his men who were smiling at the sight. They immediately wiped their faces clear. The senior Tesserarius stood next to the Optio, trying unsuccessfully to appear shorter.

“Avé, one and all. This evening, we welcome our final detachment and we can consider ourselves now at our full complement. I shall return to that subject in a moment, but first allow me to present myself to our newcomers. I am the commander here, my rank is Optio and my name is Cassius Remus Decarinii. My second-in-command here is Philo Atticus Tedlii, who is the senior Tesserarius.”

As the Optio's speech continued, Max found a grudging approval growing, despite the man's attitude earlier. He supposed that it would take a great deal of luck to be able to hide incompetence and still rise to the rank of Optio, so Max felt more at ease, at least with the military side of things. And splitting the command into three companies was sensible. Mornings, evenings and off was to be the schedule, two days at a turn, then mornings shifted to evenings and evenings to off, leaving those previously resting to fill the mornings slot. Max knew that actually the days the men were 'off' would be filled with chores, as is ever the case in the army.

But only two of these companies had a Tesserarius assigned. 'I wonder who will be the third? Probably some crony of the Optio, if experience is anything to go by.'

Which brought Max's thoughts back to the Optio. The man still had a personality problem, which Max put down to an effect he had observed countless times before. Shorter men tend to be more aggressive and irritating in their relationships with others, particularly towards the tall ones. 'I wonder if they somehow feel the need to ….'

Max's thoughts were brought to abrupt attention as his name was mentioned.

“..... elius Bellarendi was in charge and handled himself well. He is therefore raised to the rank of Tesserarius, with effect immediately. Tesserarius Maximus, I shall expect some recommendations for promotion to Decanus. Report to me at the second campana tomorrow morning.”

Max snapped to attention and saluted.

“Sir!”

It was after the Optio had finished his speechifying that many came to congratulate Max upon his promotion, and the other company commanders came across to welcome him to their ranks. Urban Septimus, also of the Tedlii, was in charge of the 1st company whilst Lucius Cyprian, of the Decarinii, like the Optio, was in charge of the 2nd company. Max's company, which would be the 3rd,, would consist of all the men he had brought up with him, plus four transferees, and they were currently on the 'off' shift, the change coming on the morning after next, which meant that Max needed to call everyone together first thing in the morning to organise duty rotations and the like. He inwardly sighed. To do that, he would need to know the standard practices that the Optio expected – how many men on watch duty, how many on maintenance and so on and so forth. He knew he would get little sleep this night, and not just because of the usual discomfort from an unfamiliar bed.

… … …

“Easy, Tesserarius. …... Sit. ...... So what have you to report?”

“Optio,” began Max, easing his frame into a chair designed for a midget it seemed. “I would prefer to wait a day to give you your answer. There are four men assigned to me from the other companies and it is too early for me to assess their abilities. It would be folly to pass over any possible talent just for a swift decision. Although I'd be almost prepared to wager that they will have dumped their trouble-makers on me. It seems to me that we have a certain relaxed duty rosta up here anyway, there are no reports of barbarians so maybe there is another arrangement of the men that would be more beneficial. I have been here scarce half a day, so I request a little more time to discover the way things are done at the moment, and what the full range of responsibilities is.”

“I am beginning to expect sensible and reasoned argumentation from you. Are you suggesting that MY arrangements are inadequate in some as yet undefined way?”

“Gods no, Optio. I was merely attempting to demonstrate that my lack of local knowledge is currently a hindrance to me carrying out your order to appoint two Decs.”

“Good. Congratulations by the way!”

“Congratulations, sir?”

“Yes. Your resourcefulness yesterday impressed me. Annoyed me, I confess. But impressed me. And the way you formed up to let us pass was nothing short of masterly. But this morning, you have shown me you are a true soldier and I was right in promoting you. You have passed all my little tests with flying colours. So, congratulations.”

“Er, thank you, sir …. I think!”

“I will have a meeting of the Tesserarii later tonight, after the Muster. I suspect that most of your questions, the ones that you will not yet have found answers to, will be answered then. Your additional men have changed the dynamic of what we can achieve and how to go about doing that, so we will all discuss the ideas each of us will have as to how to proceed. All you need to know right now is that 'they' down the valley have some new experimental way of doing whatever, and for that they suddenly need more of this black stone stuff that burns, the stuff called coal. So this coal is now a national resource and its production has to be increased and protected.”

“And I suppose, sir, with all due respect that is, that this fad will be supplanted by something else 'they' think of in their next orgy or whatever it is that promotes their daft ideas?”

“Ours Tesserarius, not to wonder why …...”

The two men looked at each other cynically before laughing.

“Until the muster, then.”

Max stood up, realising he had been dismissed. He came to attention, snapped off a crisp salute, turned on his heel and marched out of the Optio's office in the back of the muster hall. He realised with a shock that his opinion of the Optio had just gone up another notch. 'Wonders will never cease', he thought to himself as he shook his head in amazement.

… … …

The Tube changed gait from a quick march to a standard march, and not just because the uneven ground made it so very difficult to march at the double. They were approaching a wall of rock and Max, as leader, could see no easy way through it, nor any easy way over it. The stream, however, came out of it, so there was probably a passage through it. That investigation, though, could wait for another day, the distance they had come was just about right for a meaningful training 'run'.

He led his men up to the rockface and they took a breather leaning on it, facing back down the way they had come. The stream emerged from a narrow gorge to their left, and where they were were a good few boulders lying around which affording a series of seats, all of dubious comfort. He looked up, idly wondering where the fallen rocks had come from and saw that there was a fissure up above them, which ran ever narrower down to where they were seated or leaning. Peering awkwardly through the gap, which was about as wide as his head down here, Max tried to make out details. It looked to him as though there was a cap of extra hard rock over the sort of rock needed for road surfacing and house foundations and bridges and the like. But he was no stone expert. He sighed. So he would have to return with one of those then – another question to be answered some time in the future.

He turned round and studied the ground they had come up, following the stream of course. He could see several other springs bubbling up to contribute to the water flow. From where he was now, the stream had carved a deeper cut in the valley floor, a cut which was far narrower this end than further down. It seemed this country favoured canyons, gorges and cuts. This 'extra' bit that was carved out of the valley floor made a sort of long, thin triangle. Maybe a third of the way down to where a twist took everything from view was a series of mini falls. He had noticed, as they came up, a further sudden drop, and a larger falls down at the widest point before it did that twist and narrowed again. He idly thought that that point would make an ideal place to construct a dam, if this remote outpost were ever to get more widely inhabited.

“Ok, my boyos. Time to get back to the camp. It's all downhill, so lets see if we go the whole way at the double, eh? Two abreast to start with. Who wants to be with me?”

His cheerful announcement was met with some mostly good-natured groans, but his four additions from the other companies were the ones who were most out of shape and therefore groaned the loudest, without the good-natured part. Max was wise enough to let his men, and their teasing, be the driving force right now. At least these four still remembered the passus length and the marching cadences. So it wasn't going to be a REALLY tough job to bring them into line.

When they got back to the camp for their midday meal, Max had formed a few ideas as to how to proceed. It was time to ask questions of those who had been stationed here a while.

---

Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2015 – 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

---

Alibi Omnino
By Julia Phillips

02 – Posterus

Cornelia Lucilla looked again from between the rough cloth, covering the opening that allowed light to enter her bedroom, and the edge of the shutter that she could swing to, to keep out some of the winter’s cool. She could see reasonably well, but still felt she herself would be unobserved by those outside.

This was the shortest day of the year, and she watched the natives as they made some preparations for their pagan rites. She recognised the girl creature that she had named Barabara, a rough equivalent of what Cornelia has understood the girl to say when they first dared to talk to each other.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Barabara was learning a little of the Chivan tongue and Cornelia herself was picking up some of the native language.

Unlike most of the females up here at the end of the road, in a place that had nothing whatsoever to offer, Cornelia was educated – to a certain degree. She knew that her Chivan was a modern version of what her grandparents had spoken, and that version was itself changed from the language THEIR grandparents and forebears had spoken.

Indeed, one of her teachers she had had when she was a young girl, suggested that the language now spoken had lost much of the formality of ancient Chivan.

And that the ancientest of the Chivan languages was not even the pure language of the vast Empire from which they all stemmed, and which had somehow been lost to them when the original ships crashed onto the shore of the land part they now called Pliff. They calculated that the shipwreck had been between eighty and a hundred generations ago, a long time in which the language had chances galore to evolve.

Some habits however still remained from those most ancient times.

“It was shocking and considered almost a crime” thought Cornelia, “for we pure Chivans to mix with mere natives.”

The common knowledge and behaviour within society was that natives were just things to be kicked aside when the Chivans wanted to go somewhere and one was in the way.

Judging by Barabara’s behaviour, the natives also tried to keep from contact with the Chivans, and her clandestine meetings with Barabara had been fraught with early mistrust and very tentative openings. Both were incredibly nervous that some of their companions might see them.

Cornelia felt like she had begun to tame one of the wild animals that you heard often but rarely saw as you went through the Forest.

But she could tell no-one about it.

With soldiery, however, and with loneliness in these far-flung outposts of the Chivan Realm, there was always going to be some intermixing, sometimes even voluntarily.

And the ‘mixlings’ that were produced three quarters of a year after these couplings were only very rarely acknowledged in polite society.

It depended mostly upon their accent and their skin colour.

Nearly all pure-bred Chivans had many native servants, some even as business managers, but all senior posts and government officials were pure-breds. Cornelia’s mother had once suggested that someone she didn’t like was probably an indigene, but that was privately between Cornelia and her mother.

“However, down in Trifluvium, then it ….”

Her thoughts were distracted by movement outside, movement that caught her eye through the tiny chink she allowed herself.

Yes, it was Barabara and yes, Barabara was collecting, one by one, the large firestones that Cornelia had ‘accidentally’ allowed to fall from the end of her dray.

… … …

“Dammit, woman! All you had to do was bring a dray load of stones for the fireplaces in our new building. A full drayful. Not half a drayful.”

The now-famous tones of the senior Tesserarius, Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi, might have reduced someone unfamiliar with him to a quivering wreck, but Cornelia had been here the moment he arrived those six long years ago, and knew that the gruff exterior hid a soft centre; hid it very well indeed.

This relatively new Optio might think that HE ran the place, but all here knew that in fact Maximus Aurelius did, and the Optio just thought the things that Max placed into his head.

All were also aware that Max, sometimes called Mad Max (but never to his face), had somehow become attached to this remote post, and had requested to be retained here when it came his turn to be rotated out. The old Optio, Cassius Remus Decarinii, had been surprisingly vehement in his support of that and so it had come to pass.

And so also had been born his nickname, for everyone agreed that you would have to be mad to want to stay here.

As Cornelia added: “Which is true. Very true. But then I guess I have to be mad too. Else why would I have married him?”

… … …

Cornelia was in a conversation with one of the ‘new’ wives, a wife whose man had been recently posted up here to Saxum Negra. She was explaining some of the habits and traditions that abounded amongst the Chivan community.

“You know such a lot, Cornelia. I bet you even know why we are called Chivans!”

“Well, as it happens, Pomponia, I do. When our ancestors first came to the shores of this part of the world, they crashed onto a marshy shore, an area that is now known as the province of Pliff. Some say that that name originated as some sort of joke, but I can only repeat what I have been told. There were two ship loads of survivors who escaped the storms that drove them there. A third ship had been lost, but that carried mostly animals and foodstuffs. They were led by an Admiral called Chivanus. It was as a result of the local natives' misunderstandings that we were called Chivans, since they thought that our race’s name was what was in fact the leader’s name.”

“My goodness! You really DO know! I am impressed.”

“I found it fascinating as a girl to learn as much as I could about why things and places received their names.” She laughed, an attractive tinkle. “Quite a lot of things got their names because old Admiral Chivanus was deafened in one ear during the landing and frankly he misheard almost all the names that were told to him!”

“Oooh! Do you know more of our history, then? I always wanted to know but my father refused to let me be taught.” Her face twisted slightly. “He could never understand why woman would need to learn anything outside of the household.”

“Ah! I have indeed met many of those sort. We have far too many of them about, even up here.”

Pomponia Domitia’s eyes glowed as she realised that some of her long-unanswered questions might now gain some response.

“Oh, if it pleases, Cornelia, please tell me of our history.”

Cornelia laughed again. “We don’t have time for all the details, even if we are here all our lives – and my young son, Callus Gaius, will demand a fair amount of my attention when his father brings him back from the dam works. But I deem we have enough time this afternoon for me to give you a framework, like a tapestry, and we can fill in more and more of the detail as time passes. What do you know?”

“Nothing! Nothing whatsoever.”

“Very well. I shall talk while you make us a hot drink. My leg is paining me today. I must sit for a while. There are three small sacks there on that wooden board fixed to the wall, the one that is holding up the cups. At the right end is a larger pot with a spout, so take a good solid pinch from each of those sacks, then drop each pinch into that spouted pot. Fill with boiling water and let it alone, apart from an initial stir, for a hand of minutes. Then serve only the liquid into cups and we shall drink.”

“What is this stuff?”

“I call it Bellaqua. Originally, I called it Bella Aqua, but that was awkward. It ….” She broke off suddenly.

Cornelia now looked wary, and deeply thoughtful. She went off in her head for a little while and Pomponia waited a breath or two before shrugging and starting to carry out Cornelia’s instructions. She had to stretch a little to reach up to the cup board, but managed it without a large amount of difficulty.

“Pomponia – I am about to tell you something that I have told no-one else. It may make you uneasy, or even want not to be my friend anymore. I need you to promise me, on your oath, that you shall never repeat what I am about to say to anyone at any time. Are you prepared to do that?”

“Cornelia, we have spoken every day for a month, and we have established a sweet friendship. I cannot imagine anything so dire that it shall disturb that.”

“Hmmm. We shall see,” said Cornelia looking very worried. “Pomponia, this drink was taught to me …….” She swallowed. “Taught to me by a native!”

Pomponia straightened up in shock at that revelation, it was so shocking that she nearly dropped the pot. But her eyes were alight as he said: “You talk with the natives?”

That light in her eyes though told Cornelia that her fears of being shunned were groundless. She laughed in relief and, with a mischievous grin, said: “So what shall we talk about first? Chivan history, or natives?”

… … …

Livia Vipsania passed the pot of Bellaqua across to Cornelia to pour another round of drinks. The five women were crouched in a cave further up the hillside above the new and slowly-filling lake. A lake that was filling slightly quicker now that the rains were falling in earnest.

It was four and a half years after Cornelia had revealed her secret to Pomponia, close to the normal rotation period of five years. And it was two after they in turn had included Livia into their little ‘circle’. The fourth woman present was of course Barabara. And the fifth was, all knew, not actually a woman, but had been living for years as one. Her name was Antonia, and she had separately struck up a note of friendship with Barabara.

In one of the few moments of silence between them, they could hear the incessant chant of the soldiers downslope from them. The women didn’t understand why the men didn’t find another tune to sing, for they were already bored with this one – they didn't really comprehend that it was a chant to aid the toiling soldiers, to help them maintain a working cadence.

“Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Dig for state and dig for home,
Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
We have earned our beer and foam.

Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Dig for hearth and dig for home.
Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Split the rock and cut the loam.

Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Dig for food to eat at home,
Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Leave it flat without a dome.

Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Dig for trade and goods at home.
Dig, dig, dig for Rome,
Build the roads on which we roam.”

There were a few other verses, but those were rarely heard.

And the rude versions were NEVER heard by outsiders.

The dam had been finished but recently, the gates had been tested, and only a trickle was let out through the wall to keep the original stream bed in use. The men were now working on building a cover for the aqueduct that would take the water to the top end of their community. No water was yet flowing in that aqueduct as the level of the water in the new lake had yet to rise to the required levels, but a chain gang of bucket wielders had tested it and it functioned correctly. There was the gentlest of slopes to encourage the water to flow the several milla from dam to the new enclosed reservoir intended to feed the buildings of the small community.

Today, the five women were together to have what they all imagined would be their last meeting.

Livia and Antonia were going to leave Saxum Nigra, the first as her man was being transferred down to Trifluvium. The garrison in general was being slightly reduced, but the civilian population was being increased. These Chivans were being hard-pressed to maintain their influence over the vast lands they had occupied over the centuries. In the peace they had brought, the native populations had been able to consolidate and grow rather than barely survive given the conditions and the tribal wars. So most were grateful for the advent of these aloof Chivans all those years ago.

It was obvious that Antonia had not much longer to go, she had been pining for the past year since her ‘sister’ died. Due to her nature, not many in the community wanted to spend time with her and she felt more and more an outcast. Cornelia was fully aware that Antonia had also been in love with Max, Cornelia’s husband. But she also knew that Max, whilst fascinated by her, would never have had any relationship with her, so Cornelia had taken to inviting Antonia once or twice a week, just so she could be near the man she wished to be with. The two of them had become firm friends over time.

Cornelia felt her belly once more – she was expecting their fourth child. Hopefully this one would survive as had the firstborn son, Callus. She felt sure that this one was also a boy.

They had given the floor to Barabara so that she could tell the story of the Chivans as one whole, before the group split up forever. They stood ready to correct her on her facts, but by then they had learnt not to try to correct her language. First Barabara would demonstrate what she had learned from the others and then the others would return the favour to Barabara.

“There was one day much generations ago when three shipboats set out for to sail from Rome on the big water – intending to build new city and province to be called Seembukka. Storm comes, big storm, third shipboat disavanishes, other two, containing peoples not aminals, crash on top of land. Still-livers build town in marshy land, call it Seembuk, then spread out through valley. First hundred of them, then thousand, then a few generations later, many of them. But early-livers find better place where river from mountain meets big river in valley. This better because raised on solid rock and not so bad in rains. Mountain river called Bellar, because no understand proper local word, and so new city called Bellarend. Becomes main city.”

The others were all nodding their agreement in encouragement.

“First explore only big valley, build good road and bridges and so grow. Some isolated traders arrive and tell of other places, so begins trade with faroffs. And more roads are built. Good knowledge comes with still-livers, who show us barians better ways – and so more food grown and aminals used better. Start more trade, particularly to North and West. One group explore coast to North-East, another explore middle valley to North, at end find here. Another group follow big valley up. Eventually, so far up Big Valley, that second main town required so build close to junction of roads and rivers and valleys, call it 'Jodium'.”

“Now Chivan area too big, and many lives lost building trade road through difficult stone area, so time to get bit smaller to allow people numbers to get bigger, before growing again. So is Chivan area today.”

She blushed as she got a round of applause and congratulations.

“Very good Barabara. You have all the essential parts of the story. And now it is our turn to be sure that we have learned from you. I shall start with my favourite – the Bellaqua.”

Cornelia went on to describe the herbs and barks to be used, and in which proportions, for a 'proper' brew of Bellaqua. She was followed by Antonia who described how to make a pain-relieving paste from local leaves and plants, and Livia went on to describe how to make a bitter-tasting concoction that was, however, marvellous at helping women cope during their 'days'. Finally Pomponia described the making of a poultice for fevered children.

Barabara did not have to make a single correction and so they all hugged each other, and with some tears, they parted, singly or in pairs so as not to draw attention to themselves. As always, Barabara stayed behind the others to put out the fire and tidy everything away. She found herself using the chant as she went about her tasks: “Dig, dig, dig for Rome …..”

No-one mentioned that this was also to prevent them being seen to be associating with a native.

… … ...

Four more years passed by. Another year to go before a normal rotation period came to an end.

Cornelia had indeed had a second son, who had so far survived. She was still friendly, but secretly, with Barabara and Pomponia was about to leave Saxum Nigra. The aqueduct was finally completed and the water was running as designed.

Except the town had not grown as had been expected, indeed the garrison strength was less than half that which had obtained during its heyday.

Max was absent for a three week period, which quite upset his younger son. He had loved being carried in Daddy's strong arms up to the dam and watching the men work the gates and so on. He also loved watching the soldiers do their tasks and finally his parents nicknamed him Digrome as he would always grin and sing along with the working man's chant. His elder brother, now nearing eleven years of age, took over the chore of taking him up to the dam, where he, Callus, learnt the gate testing routines and so on. This became Callus' assigned task and it wasn't long before the two boys were doing it regularly; and the soldiers let Callus do the work – it was good training for the boy and his muscles. The five year old younger brother happily kept generally still when his older brother was working, although a soldier always hovered nearby when the elder one was distracted by work.

Max went downvalley to Trifluvium with one companion, a specifically designated companion, one of the other Tesserarii, named Carpius Julius Jodii; for a conference where the officer, sitting behind his desk in an office in the barracks, and surrounded by a hand of senior officers, asked him what the minimum number of men would be that could be garrisoned at Saxum Nigra.

In the following conversation, for it was more of a conversation than an interrogation, Max learned that the Chivan Empire was in trouble as it had grown so big that more and more men were required to just control its borders. Currently the birth rate amongst the Chivans was not even matching the death rate, and they would as a consequence have to consolidate. Their furthest holdings up the big valley were over four hundred milla away from Bellarend and they had holdings just as far away but on the north coast of the estuary, stretching in the other direction. The second city of the Chivan Realm was named Jodium, and their holdings, at their zenith, stretched up the Great Valley for hundreds of milla beyond this second city.

Over thirty in every Century of their soldiers were employed building trade routes to such far away destinations as Tscharn and a newly contacted city state on the far side of the Savannah lands, about fifty milla from the edge of a large desert, called D'Venarg, or something similarly outlandish.

There was also a new trade route to a city of strangers who wore long robes, called something like Polpetter, one that had been exhausting to men and resources of the Empire. They had had to force the road through nearly two hundred milla of crumbly and uneven rocky ground, following the river Bellar to a large lake, where the land dipped the other way before rising again. After forging through this hugely expansive natural barrier, the river course rose through Savannah land and up the side of a great curve of mountains. This terrain was far easier and the newly built trade road climbed and dropped over the crestline before dropping further down to the head of a river where the town of Polpetter had grown, right at the edge of a more lush tropical forested stretch of land. (It was reported, amidst some not inconsequential amazement, that that further river dropped from this tropical forest down into jungle where it joined a yet another river that was more than 100 milla wide! This final huge river was also the one upon which the port city of Tscharn could be found, some five or six hundred milla nearer the final widening of the mouth.)

Max gave his opinions, was thanked for coming and was dismissed, all within less than two turns of the sandglass. But he still had to hang around 'just in case'. His companion then took his turn at being questioned.

Max wandered off to the West, not deliberately with some destination in mind, but simply because he had entered the town over a floating bridge from the East. Not much further on, he found another river, with another floating bridge. He could see the startings of another town on the far side, and he saw that a team of soldiers/engineers on each bank were beginning to build a raised permanent bridge.

After watching for a short while, he turned about and walked back eastwards but on a parallel road to the one he had used to get here.

He found himself in the Forum, and marvelled, after so many years up in Saxum Negra, at the diversity of stalls with wares for sale. He looked around, suddenly finding a desire to buy a little something for each member of his family. The choice was immense and he was surprised at the number of people all negotiating sales in a loud clamour. Max decided he needed some help and so he went back to the barracks to fetch his companion, to have some advice from Carpius.

The two of them were given the next morning free, so they both went back to the Forum then and found it was easy to use up much time looking at all that was available. Max refused to buy anything until he was reasonably happy that he had seen most of the goods for sale. Only then did he feel he could be confident of having found the best deal for his denaria. After all, a denarius was two thirds of his day's pay, so he wasn't going to waste such hard-won wealth. A denarius was split into 12 sub-denaria, which had become known as subs – pronounced, for some strange reason, 'soobs'.

The two of them decided that it would be an easier passage to their chosen stall for the first gift by skirting round the edges of the market where there were far fewer people.

“Hold!”

The two of them sprinted up to where three men were laying into a single other man, who was curled into a ball on the ground. A fourth of the attackers had just turned to reach for the ropes holding a curious cargo on the back of a covered wagon. A woman on the wagon was screeching in fear.

“Damned soldiers! Ware, men!”

Max and Carpius drew their glada as they ran towards the startled men. Two of these men immediately turned tail and ran, the other two angrily following suit after a pause.

The man on the ground slowly unwound himself, darting glances all round before reassuring himself.

“Enough woman! We need rest now, and silence shall help!” He turned then to the pair of soldiers. “I thank you for a most timely rescue, good men. May I present myself, a trader from Tscharn having followed along your most excellent roads to try my luck here in your homelands. My name is Roben and this noisy woman is my niece, Lizet. We hope to make a new life amongst such a vibrant people.”

“I am Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi, Senior Tesserarius, from the garrison at Saxum Negra. I and my companion here, are but briefly in Trifluvium before returning once more along the long and weary road back north. This is Tesserarius Carpius Julius Jodii.”

“Well, we are grateful that you both are here at this moment. It appears that some of the ... denizens, yes that's it … denizens of this town object to a slightly darker skinned trader from Tscharn attempting to sell a few small goods to pay for some more comfortable accommodation for a night or two. We have been advised that we should travel on, and rapidly. An instruction I shall not hesitate to follow, but perhaps less rapidly than these bandits would prefer. Our intention was always to journey downvalley to a city where this waterflow here joins a major one in a deep valley, a city called, we are led to believe, Bellarend. We understand that we have another week or two and an awkward … what do you say, I know it’s not waterflow? … river, yes, river crossing or two before we might reach our detsi... no, let me think … destination. Yes, that's it. Destination.”

“That is the capital of the Chivan Realm, and my home town. Your information is, however, correct. I dare say that you shall find many opportunities down there, many more than hereabouts. And your admirable grasp of our language shall doubtless aid you. As to why the locals here should so object to a foreigner trading, then I have no clue. I suspect that law and order is no longer quite so strict as it once was, and as it should still be. But do you travel with no guard?”

“Not so, Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi. But our dozen guards are enjoying a well-earned day off. I assumed that I would be able to guard our wares by parking our wagons here against the wall. And I assumed the citzenry would be less …. grasping. My brother travels also with me, and I allowed him and his wife, Elizet's mother, to have a few turns of the sandglass alone, to enjoy the marketing, the what do you Chivans call it? … ah! ... Forum. I regret my generosity now. And I had sent our personal servants off to find some lunch barely a quarter of a … campana …. ago,”

“Wagons! You are a large caravan then?”

“I have only two hands of the large vehicles, and some fifty or so fraena. We are not so large. Back in Tscharn we would be considered middle-sized.”

“By all the Gods, man! Your very presence marks you out as a target. No wonder the greedy ones sought to take advantage!” Max's mind thought quickly. “Tell me, Roben wasn't it?, have you some comfortable palliasses? Please clamber about your wagons and try to drop two onto the ground unobserved. Your niece might have to rig or hold some screen whilst you do so; also have a cover from this front wagon hang down, obscuring the view to underneath, but make it not so obvious what you are doing. Then we shall apparently go away, but shall sneak back and crawl under the wagons, and drag the palliasses to under this front wagon, and thereby shall guard you until your men come back. It would, by Jovial advice, be far better for your men to return, but we shall have to do the best we can.”

And thus was the trap set for the robbers, who did indeed return with greater forces, and within a campana. They were at first disconcerted to find that the returned servants now swelled the numbers of the defenders.

Then they were shocked to find two well-armed and seasoned soldiers attacking them unexpectedly.

This time, they received not only a rude surprise, but also not trivial wounds as rewards for their efforts. Two of them died on the spot, three others could but crawl away afterwards, and a hand were more than lightly wounded. The remaining seven ill-advised bandits all suffered minor cuts and bruises, but managed to escape just before some of Roben's guards returned, one of them having forgotten something. Quickly, some of these guards were despatched to fetch the others and a proper guard on Roben's belongings was set in place before much more time passed.

It was obvious to Max that Roben was a born leader, as he organised everyone in an efficient way, being all the time pleasant but both firm and fair. It suddenly flashed through Max's head that this man would be a chieftain of a native tribe before too long. He even managed to extract a promise from Max and his companion that they would return on the morrow, when the sun had hauled itself up above the rooftop across the street. Max smiled as the trader used the ancient word 'cras' instead of the modern 'morrow', and the Trader smiled back gratefully at the small lesson.

The two soldiers decided that they had had enough adventures for the day, and besides their weapons needed cleaning and the blood spatters would have to be removed from their clothing before it settled in. They made their leisurely way back to their lodgings in the barracks where they had barely time to set things to right before a messenger arrived asking them to report back to the barrack office room.

… … …

“ … so we thank you Maximus Aurelius for all you have done.”

Max was rarely surprised but he had had to sit there silently whilst the Centurions (two of them), the Cohort Majors (three of them) and the General had interrogated his companion about Blackstone and had heard about Max's discovery and development of the Stone Quarry, the siting and construction of the Dam, the organisation of the coal extraction mine and all the things that Max himself had done over the course of the many years he had been up in Saxum Nigra.

He jerked upright as the General harshly issued an order; everyone was looking at him so he knew the order was for him.

“Attention!”

He leaped to his feet, and gave a crisp salute, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“We cannot permit you to remain in the front ranks of the Legions after your fifty-fifth birthday unless you are an experienced officer. We are aware of your preference for staying in Saxum Nigra and therefore, OPTIO Maximus Aurelius, you shall be there for another five years, as our gratitude for all you have done. Should you then wish to remain in the soldiery, then you shall have to descend here and be active in a more senior role before any further promotion. Should you then choose retirement, then your pension shall be the same rate of pay that you currently receive. As an Optio, you shall have an extra Denarius a day. I assume that your arrangement of retaining a week's pay down here shall continue?”

“Sir!”

“You shall carry with you a letter to the current Optio up there, and he shall return here with a Contubernium which shall not be replaced. We are happy that your soldiery up there no longer need to build and develop the community, so the duties shall become more of those of guards to the civilian coal-hauliers. And as maintenance engineers of course. Clear?”

“As you command, Sir!”

“Good! Carry on, Optio! The two of you remain in town for a further day tomorrow, in case we have need of you once more, report back here at meal times to keep in touch, then you may leave to return to your mountain the following morning.”

“Sir!”

“And you, Carpius Julius, you are now the Senior Tesserarius! At a denarius and a half per day. Congratulations to you both. Carry on!”

“Sir!” the two newly-promoted snapped out in unison.

… … …

The promotion party that evening was relatively subdued for the Trifluvium barracks, but was riotous when compared with what went on up in the remote Saxum Negra. Certainly Max's head was regretting that last glass when he awoke in the morning.

“Why,” he wondered sullenly, “is it that it is only the last glass that is so bad? Always!”

He swigged a huge mouthful of water, and then another when his stomach’s churning had subsided from the first.

He was soon, though, functioning normally and remembered to withdraw some of his funds for the spending that he had planned in the Forum.

The two remembered to meet with Roben at the appointed time and once again Max was surprised.

The covers of two of the wagons had been removed and he could see, closely stacked together, a hand of wooden wheeled things on each wagon. A third exposed wagon also had these items but only three of them were atop the wagon bed.

Down at street level, there were two hands of fraena lined up and Roben told each of the men to choose two. Once they had done so, Roben and Lizet swept back a curtain and took the fraena to two of the wooden items that were standing on the roadway. The fraena were hitched to the long wooden arms that stretched forward from the body of the contraption and then they were led forward.

“A Carrus Biga!” breathed Max. “I never thought I would ever see one! But hold! What are these strange drawings here?”

“I know not, Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi. I purchased twenty of these carriages from a foreigner in Tscharn. He said that a foreign ship had foundered and these were part of the cargo. I had hoped that your folk would find them useful.”

“These are what we Chivans used to call a Carrus. If drawn by two animals, then the ancients said they were a Carrus Biga. If drawn by three animals, then a Carrus Triga. Four, a Carrus Quadriga. They were, are, very fast and when they first appeared on a battlefield, the surprise factor won many victories. But soon opponents learned their weaknesses and we stopped using them many generations ago. I fear you will find few takers for them.”

“Oh well! It was always a gamble. But I will cover my costs if I just sell the wheels, I feel. From the little I have seen of your country so far, wheels are used for most every little thing.”

“Mayhap you are right. I'm sorry to give bad tidings.”

“It's not that bad! And any way, these two are for you. You mentioned that you have a long way to walk uphill, so I decided to gift these to my two rescuers and defenders. As a thank you.”

“Oh wait! That's too much. All we did was uphold the laws.”

“Nonsense. I refuse to have them back. These two chariets, as we call them, and the animals are now yours. You can get where you're going in half the time now, and far less tiring.”

And so it was that Max and his companion were the talk of the barracks when they returned for the midday meal. Many there wanted a chance to drive a Carrus, or Car as they were soon called by those around. Even the General was delighted to drive something he had only heard about in the history lessons. But none knew what the strange decoration was on the faces of the 'bodywork'. It was almost writing but it was funny stylised pictures instead.

A quick conversation with the General had Max taking the General himself and a legionary back down to meet Roben.

Where the General promptly purchased all of the cars that Roben had for sale. This resulted in much faster communications around the area for which the General was responsible.

… … …

So it was that Max and his companion travelled northwards once more, finding the going far easier than they had expected when they set out nearly two weeks before.

Indeed such was the rate of travel that Max had an idea as they descended the incline in the road at the start of their little valley. He calculated swiftly and realised, with a great spurt of pleasure, that they would be able to make it to the old abandoned fort for their overnight stop. He realised with a shock that they would be doing the return, uphill, journey in two days travel rather than the five days hard slog they had originally allowed for. Indeed, with these marvellous cars they might even make it in less than half a day on the morrow.

… … …

“Something big has passed through there, and often.”

“Aye. You have the rights of it!”

“Let us explore a little then, surely we can spend a campana or two investigating, Optio? Maybe we shall find something useful.”

“Very well. We shall take the cars in and hide them from the road, tether the fraena and go on on foot. No more than two campana before we return.”

“Yes, sir!”

They had arisen with the light after spending a pleasant night in comfort under a still intact roof, despite the fort being abandoned fifteen or so years beforehand. They had been surprised to find still some produce, now gone wild of course, in what had been the vegetable gardens and the bracing waters of the tumbling river were a pleasant way to wash.

They harnessed the animals to the cars and set off again through the trees to the cleared road where their pace picked up once again.

They passed the spot where Max had first met Div …. “I wonder what happened to him. Haven’t even thought about him for years! No, it was Din, his name” … and then followed the road as it climbed across the great rock face up to the upper level of the valley.

“This is definitely the way to travel up here! When I did it last, it was a wet and drizzly day which made the slope seem never-ending and miserable.”

Max grinned wryly as he remembered that he had never actually walked nor marched up this bit. They had all snuck rides on wagons when he first came up here. He didn’t share the though, he just grunted in reply.

They made it to the foot of the lofty peak there, where the road did an abrupt turn and then headed arrow-straight up to the township. The peak nicknamed the Street Helm.

It was on the north side of this peak that they saw the wide and well-used game trail.

The beasts were tethered and the cars hidden from casual sight when the two men set out on their exploratory mission. They took swords, shields and lances with them and moved confidently but carefully along the track, looking and listening to all they could see and hear.

They found no other living creature even though it was still obvious they were following a well-used game trail. But they heard much wildlife around them as they advanced.

There was a branch in the trail, but they continued along what seemed to be the main track and were soon leaving the peak over their right shoulders.

They came across a more swampy bit and hopped from tuft to tuft to get to the other side.

“Hold!” commanded Max.

“”What is it, Optio?”

“There, through the trees to the left. I recognise that white rock with the blasted tree atop it.”

“What is it? How do you know it?”

“It’s hard by the route to the old stone quarry we used to use before we found the one up towards the side vale above Saxum Negra.”

“Before YOU found it!” gently corrected Carpius. “So there is a track for humans over there then?”

“Aye. We can always return along that, if it becomes necessary; I suggest it will be quicker than by the way we came. Now I have our position, let’s see where that branch in the game trail leads.”

They retraced part of their way and then followed the branch they had spotted earlier. This led them round the foot of the Street Helm. They crossed a stream that obviously drained the upper flanks of the peak and continued around the foot of the peak, where the lighter vegetation made passage a little simpler.

They saw another game trail lead towards the peak itself and decided to follow that. There was a narrow cleft which they cautiously entered, and the track swiftly mounted the flanks. Carpius was leading and continued onwards and upwards. A few tricky passages eventually led them to a sort of flattened piece, narrow but relatively long. Their legs were glad of the rest afforded by terrain that was not quite flat, but certainly not as steep as the last pitch they had struggled up. Many game trails led on upwards from this ‘level’ patch, but most were too small for the humans. There were two that would warrant further investigation but Max shook his head.

“We shall return. We must get back to the cars now, for I wish to circumnavigate this peak before we forge on home.”

“As you say, Optio,” said an obviously disappointed Carpius.

And so they descended once more and made their way round the foot of the peak, finding themselves surprisingly quickly back on the road again, at the upper limit of the cross-rockface stretch.

Even so, Max cursed. “We have been more than three campana on this expedition. We shall have to hurry.”

The two found the vehicles and the fraea where they had left them, and swiftly harnessed the animals to the cars. Once they regained the smoother surface of the road, Max’s impatience seemed to infect the animals as well, and before they knew it, the two of them were bowling along the road faster than either had ever travelled before. The animals were obviously enjoying it and it must have been two or three milla before Max made them all slow down, to give the animals a breather, for there was still some distance to go. Why they weren’t even out of the forest yet.

… … …

“What has happened?” grated out a shocked and pale-faced Max.

All his imaginations of how they would be received had come nearly true, and it was with wonder and welcome that the two men had arrived in Saxum Nigra that evening a month ago.

Once the shock about the cars had settled down, once the Optio had been informed of his new orders, once congratulations had been showered, then Cornelia and Max settled down to a private, smiley and sentimental evening. She (and the boys) had been delighted with their presents and Max felt so proud to have been able to cause such delight.

A week later, the departing Optio headed south taking with him another two hands of soldiers, leaving now thirty six men under Max’s command. He soon found a sensible routine for the efficient use of his command, and everyone settled down once more into their mostly unexciting lives.

Until, a month to the day after his return, Max was hailed by his son Callus, his son with the white-green face, his shaking son.

“What has happened?” grated out a shocked and pale-faced Max, his gut already telling him this was not good news.

“Mater, and little Digrome. He was outside the cave Mater was in, playing with some stones and sticks. They … he … she tried to protect him. She did Pater. She flung herself. Pater, it was HUGE. The fraea all panicked. It swooped towards Digrome and Mater threw herself over the child. The kraak took them both. Mater screamed as they went up and blood started pouring down. She cried out something like ‘Bara Bara Bara Bara’ and she threw the boy down, to save him I suppose. She kept screaming ‘Bara Bara Bara’ and then half-way through that word, she... she... she went silent.”

Callus was openly crying now, and Max’s knees felt like water. Only iron determination kept him upright.

“The boy?”

“I … I … I … couldn’t find him, Pater. I tried. I really did. I promise, Pater. I promise. I only found blood.” Callus was barely capable of speaking more as he choked up on his emotions. “I tried so hard, but …...”

“Take me there! Now.”

“Let the lad stay, Optio. I saw it myself, I will guide you.”

Max looked over at the soldier who he now realised had lent his strength to Callus for the boy to come to report.

“Thank you.

“Callus, stay here. Drink some of that brew your mother was so fond of, it did seem to help her. That Bellaqua stuff.

“Let’s go soldier, and tell me what you know. How long ago was this? In which direction did the kraak leave? Is there the faintest chance …….”

The Chivan way of life comes to its end

---

Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2015 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

---

 

Callus picked up one foot and drove it forward yet again. His eyes were grainy, strained and one was twitching. He was footsore, armsore, legsore and even necksore.

He knew that he had to keep walking for another campana, and then it would be his turn to ride on one of the three wagons he was ‘escorting’.

Every day since leaving the valley that led up to Saxum Nigra, he had had at least one, sometimes even four, bouts, each being of some sort of battle; fights that he had amazingly survived. But he was not uninjured. He had more scars about his arms and torso than even his father had had. Some were still not properly healed.

A sudden clamour from up ahead made his heart sink.

“Not again! That would be the third fight today already, and my luck must run out soon.”

Despite his bone-deep weariness, and his almost certainty of a death waiting just round the corner, his sinews stiffened, his back straightened, and his fierce determination made him grab his bent and battered scutus and his gladius; he placed himself between the women and the oncoming attackers, in a position from where he could see events as they progressed.

His party had grown to be three hands of men and two of women by the time he had left Trifluvium and made his awkward way all the way downstream to Tedlum; but the constant harassment by small bands of raiders meant that now they had watched two of the men be killed protecting the little convoy. To which they had added a further hand and one of women only that very morning, an extra burden not only on comestibles and the like but they would need training too, taking up more of his very scarce time.

And two others of the fighters, a man and a woman, were wounded in the ambush they had negotiated just after struggling through Halcyon. They both, however, were gamely struggling to add their limited experience to the defenders.

But this time, his eyes now told him that they were outnumbered by better armed foes.

He felt his father’s spirit infuse him then. He may go down, but at least he would take several of the bastards with him.

These attackers, as all the others had been, were untutored in the arts of organised fighting, so his training of his little band had brought them through many dangers. He wished again that he had paid more attention to his father before it was too late. He was now, just, fifteen years old and effectively alone in the world; he had grown up far quicker than anyone would have imagined just three or so years ago. But still his knowledge of fighting was more than any of the others in his band, except for the near-blind Vulpinus Lupus, the retired Tesserarius he had stumbled over in the old headquarters in Trifluvium.

And then he had no more time to think such luxurious thoughts.

The killing must start again.

The first clash showed Callus that they were in trouble.

The bad news was that some of the bandits held back, obviously to create a second wave just as the defenders were at their most stretched. The first wave numbered as many as the defenders, and still they had a second wave!

And then he got the really bad news.

He could see yet another band, maybe at a strength of two hands of men, all mounted on fraena. He watched them gather pace and begin to charge.

He screamed his defiance and leapt at the nearest attacker with renewed fury.

… … …

“What? Where? How? ...”

A low chuckle made Callus whip his head round to locate the source of the sound. Even as he was doing that, he struggled with the knowledge that he was lying down, he had a splitting headache and that there seemed to be hundreds of faces all looking at him, these visages lit by the flickers of an enormous bonfire that banished the night that was otherwise all around.

His hand scrabbled for his Gladius as he fought back the waves of dizziness, his body accepting a massive dose of adrenalin.

“Peace, Callus Gaius, peace. We are friends. There is no danger here. Here, here is your glad-whatsit, if that makes you easier ...”

A hand guided Callus' to the well-worn hilt of what had been his father's weapon. His fist closed round it, the fingers fitting precisely into the well-worn grooves.

“.. but we would be glad if you didn't swing it too violently, just yet. Allow me to explain, will you?”

Callus' eyes swung round and then settled with a shock upon Vulpinus Lupus Bellarendi, who was smiling encouragingly at him – or rather at a point just past his right shoulder, for the old man, Callus realised with a sudden insight, could not see him lying here in the shadows on a … a... a what, exactly? … a comfortable mattress of some sort, it sort of felt like a … ah, yes, a straw filled canvas bag.

Callus flexed his stomach muscles and smoothly raised his torso, ignoring again the dizziness.

He looked around from this new vantage point. His eyes met those of a man squatting near him, but at a respectful distance. The man's eyes were without guile, and were welcoming and friendly.

Callus looked around some more. There. And there. And there, and there, and ….. People who had joined his small band, people he had sworn to defend. They all looked back at him, with a mixture of friendliness, encouragement and maybe a touch of awe. They all showed somehow a loyalty to him that he felt was undeserved.

He looked once more across to Vulpinus Lupus, who had now focussed more accurately upon his face.

“Canny? We really are safe?”

“Cally – we are! You have brought us through and we have joined with this man's band. His name is Roben, and we are safe here in his enclave. And none of your private stuff has been touched, I swear to you on all I hold true, we are safe. Roben and his men charged the attackers and sent them fleeing, but you were in your battle mind and were heavily engaged with the first wave. When Roben broke the second wave, you were distracted and took a thump behind your right ear.” Callus felt his head and winced when his fingers found the swelling that 'Canny' had described. “ You have been asleep for a day and more now. No … don't fret, all your things are safe, I have made sure. ALL of them!”

Callus immediately understood that the secret of his wagons was still intact. The rest of the news, however, provided him with a sense of achievement. Against the odds, he had brought his band though to a relative safety.

Callus did not, however, react to this as a fully-trained Chivan soldier would have.

He took a long, shuddering breath.

And burst into tears.

Huge, body-wracking sobs that seemed might tear him asunder.

He curled himself into a ball, and howled.

He was vaguely aware of being held by a female, for surely no man could have breasts like that, who whispered nothings into his ear. A small flash of awareness made him realise the great tension he had been under now for many weeks, a tension that had had no release.

The female stroked him gently, across his temples and his shoulders and his neck.

And laid him gently back down on the palliasse, by which time he was away once more into that world of dreams and recuperation.

… … …

“You are the son of MAX?” exclaimed Roben, loudly.

“Aye, sir – that I am. The son of Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi, so I, too, am a Bellarendi.”

“Then I am doubly fortunate. It is an honour to be able to repay some of my debt to him!”

“Debt, sir? To my FATHER?”

“Oh, pah, boy! Call me Roben. I insist. Yes, debt, young Callus Gaius (you Chivans and your complicated namings!). Debt indeed. Your father, and another called Carpius Julius who had come all the way from the Jod lands in the service of your Chivan Empire or whatever you call it, rescued me and my trading caravan in the town up there ...” he jerked his thumb upvalley “... you call Trifluvium. Without his help, we would be nothing but penniless refugees from a land many moons travel away. But now we are here and we have gathered a certain … influence shall we say?”

“Oh! The Gods have obviously been kind to us, sir. Er... Roben,” he added this last hastily as a frown crossed the other man's features. “They have led me, us, to you.”

“Yes, although your Chivan gods are different to mine! Certainly, we don't have a God of Toilets and another of Sewage, and even a third of Farts! I sometimes wonder if there are really any gods, or whether they are just a human invention to help ease the everyday pains of living our lives. So, continue with your story, then, we pray, for we are all fascinated and even may learn much. … Your brother had been born ….”

Callus related his story which made many of his listeners sigh, gasp and even cry a little as it continued through the various tales and anecdotes the lad had experienced.

There was a genuine laugh when they heard the story of how his brother had been named Digrome, and there were shocked gasps and tears when they heard how his mother's life had ended.

“And your brother, was he ever found?”

“Aye, si … Roben. That he was!”

His audience gasped and leaned in closer.

“And I solved the riddle of my Mother's last words!”

“Pray tell us,” breathed Roben.

“Before I do, I need to explain something. I'm sure that all of you are aware that this Chivan era is coming rapidly to an end. I have a theory as to why nearly all we Chivans are dying so rapidly, but I cannot definitely explain exactly why I have not. I think I know, but it is so silly that I doubt myself.

“It is to me obvious that most of the problem we have is due to the Chivan insistence that we not intermingle with what we all called the 'peasants' or sometimes 'natives'. We even call them occasionally 'barbarians'.” He broke off to marshal his thoughts again. “I believe that there is some illness being passed from one to another ...” again, he broke off briefly as Roben glanced significantly at another man there, “... against which the so-called 'peasants' are NOT susceptible, but against which we ARE. Quite why this illness should manifest itself now, I have no idea – we have been here for twenty and more generations – but nevertheless there is something going round that means we die and the others do not.”

There was a murmur of general agreement, some with contemplative surprise, these had obviously not considered this possibility, others with a nodding acceptance of it being a distinct possibility.

“The 'natives' here have lived for generation upon generation on the same world, more than our twenty or so generations, for they were here when we got here. And they have lived on the same world that has produced this illness. EVERYONE says that the Chivans arrived from somewhere else entirely and they have kept themselves aloof from the so-called natives. I believe that this has been our downfall. EVERY single mixling I have met in the last weeks and months is alive and well and not suffering at all. Every 'pure' Chivan has been ill, with nearly all dying. Only a few have survived, but greatly weakened. Even former soldiers can no longer lift even their weaponry.

“As to why I am alive, when I have had no major intermingling with a 'peasant' or a 'native', I have a fantastic theory, which, as I said, I find silly. But it was something that my father made me promise to do.

“Now let me get back to the story of my mother and brother, and you may gain some slight understanding of what I mean.

“My mother had been secretly meeting with a native for a long period of time. This native was named Barabara by my mother, and it was to her she was calling when the kraak took her. She wanted the native to catch my brother when she threw him down. Obviously the two women had been meeting in that cave.”

A collective sigh spread round the listeners, with a few “Of course”s being bandied about.

“My belief is that this Barabara was too frightened to come out of the cave with that animal there, so mother was imploring her to make an appearance. In desperation she threw the boy down before it was too late. As it was, she waited nearly too long.

“My father told me that, some two weeks later, Barabara met him in secret, carrying the boy. And she explained what had happened that day. He felt I was too young at the time to handle it all, so he kept it from me, only telling me just before he died. He knew he would die; however, he lasted several weeks longer than anyone else, once the illness had settled into him.

“My brother had survived the long fall, in a way. Both his legs had been broken, and an arm, and he suffered a fearful bash to his head; he was now permanently sleeping. Attempts though to take him away from Barabara met with a fierce resistance from the unconscious boy, who clung to the woman in desperation. Pater, in the end, decided to leave him with her, fully expecting the young lad to leave this world at any moment. Now, you have to bear in mind that Pater was the officer in charge up there and therefore he couldn't be seen to be dealing with a native, and so he kept her at a great distance, which also had the effect of 'protecting' me from any associated scandal.

“My father knew his days were numbered towards the end, and he called me to him on two separate, consecutive evenings to give me a series of instructions. One of which he claimed to be the reason that I seemed to be unaffected. He told me - no that's not quite true - he made me promise, that I should keep drinking that Bellaqua concoction my mother had introduced me to, the stuff she ended up calling 'Bell'. He claimed that Barabara had also confirmed it, saying that it was beneficial. Pater tried it, but only after he was already ill; and it seems that something, maybe indeed it was that concoction, helped him to battle the illness, for he did indeed last longer than anyone else.

“I have drunk some 'Bell' every day since, and I have never had a moment of the illness.”

The lad broke off at that point to have a sip from the mug of Bellaqua that someone had given him while he was talking.

Amongst his listeners, a great commotion arose – some called Callus' suggestions 'ridiculous' whilst others felt that maybe he was onto something. This continued for a while until Roben took control, firmly and with a natural air of command.

“Enough! Let us consider this carefully. First, I wish to talk with all those of Chivan, or mainly Chivan, origins. All of you, this is no time for secrets and so-called embarrassing situations. Are there any amongst you who have NOT been drinking this concoction? Quickly now, it's a simple answer. Hands up if you have. No hesitation, just do it!”

All those involved raised their hands.

“Now, all those who were classed as 'natives' by the Chivans. Hands up if you do NOT drink this stuff!”

No hands were raised.

“So tell me how you make this stuff. I will listen to any herbers present first.”

There followed some more arguments, that were again getting heated, when once more Roben enforced some order.

It became apparent that there were three ingredients that were common to all the ways suggested for preparing this drink, and that there were a hand or so, maybe even seven, variations with other ingredients that all agreed could have been added for taste rather than effect.

“All previously so-called 'pure' Chivans shall drink this every day. Anyone else may choose so to do. We shall be nothing, if this illness gets a hold amongst us. We need to gather a great supply of the herbs and bushes mentioned. Young Callus Gaius here has added some valuable information that has confirmed some ideas several of us have been formulating. Now, Callus Gaius, are you up to a few more questions?”

“Indeed I am, Roben, though I know not what more I may be able to contribute.”

“We need to know more of this illness, how long it takes to settle in and so on. If you could describe what happened up in your village, maychance we shall learn more …?”

Callus leaned back, gathering his memories to play through his mind.

Slowly, he started: “It began with the stone workers up at the new quarry, the one that, now opened at both ends, allowed easier and quicker access to the upper Valley above the settlement, beyond the new dam. They were the first to report feeling unwell. It was two weeks later that others in the settlement joined in with them, by which time the stoneworkers were reaching the shaking stage of the illness. Once this shaking stage was over, they started getting weaker and weaker until they just died, unable to eat or drink anything anymore.

“There were many arguments about whether or not the new dam or the new quarry was to blame, but Pater determined that it was the quarry. That was why he and Carpius Julius took their cars up there just before the Tesserarius Carpius had reached his shaking stage. They attached ropes to the support columns and pulled the roof down upon themselves. Except Pater missed the rockslide they started; he was cut and bruised but that was all. There was no way out of the Upper Vale for his wide car, so he left the car there and walked out, trailing his two fraena, using the narrow cleft carved by the stream. I think the buffeting he got and the dust in his lungs and the cuts and bruises tipped the balance, and it was not long before he too started shaking.

“As I said, he called me to him one evening and gave me some detailed instructions. He struggled through his duties the following day, but by then he had only one, already sick, man left for him to command, and he gave me more instructions the following evening. He died in my arms, and I woke in the morning to find that I was the last Chivan left alive up there, that last soldier had also gone during that night.

“I was frightened and very lonely I can tell you,” Callus seemed to be unaware of the tears spilling down his cheeks as he spoke, “but this Barabara came to me and I accepted her presence. She looked after me in those days of loss and grief. She even bathed me once, on the one occasion I gave up hope and intentions. She fired my feelings back up, then. I suppose you could say she made me live again.

“One day, she told me, in heavily accented Chivan, that my brother was showing signs of waking, so I delayed my departure downvalley for three more weeks. He did indeed awaken, but was unable to walk properly; but I tested his memory and asked him to describe what was needed for maintaining the dam and the aqueduct, and I knew his brain had been unaffected when he got it all perfectly correct. Dear Digrome. I knew I could not care for him and do what I had to do for Pater, so I left him with Barabara. I did promised to return for him. I harnessed a wagon, took three or four of the fraena, released the others and I set off. I had to leave then to go downvalley before it would be too late due to the weather.

“So you see, Roben, and all of you, I don't think my tale can help describe the illness too much more. I deem there is nothing there that will advance your knowledge at all.”

“On the contrary, Callus, I deem you to have been very helpful. Now, I am going to press you. I want to know the timescales of these events. When did the first one show illness? How long, as accurately as you can, before the next?”

“Oh! Now you are asking! Phew! Let me think. ….”

Falteringly, the lad rebuilt the picture of those early days and fleshed out his thoughts under Roben's, and others', questions.

A long while went past, when Roben, with barely concealed elation, said: “So we are pretty certain that this illness runs its course over five or six weeks. And that it takes a week or two to catch it. So that is MUCH more than we knew a week ago. Do we ...”

“Hold!”

Callus looked over at his half-blind friend: “Canny?”

“The timings! By my calculations you must have had the illness up there before anywhere else. So it must have spread from there. How would that be possible?”

Everyone fell silent, thinking.

Callus slowly realised that his village, his settlement was probably responsible for killing off the entirety of the Chivans. The enormity of it shocked him into introspective silence!

By this time, everybody had taken to calling the man Canny, particularly after Callus had explained why he chose that nickname for him - “His names are like the names for various old folklore animals, animals which remind me of the stories of another animal that was called in the ancient world a 'Canis'. They don't exist here of course, but that's what it seemed to me, in my mind. And he started calling me Cally. So I made HIS name Canny!”

But this conversation was far more serious.

“Canny!” said Roben. “A good thought! So now we also know where it started. But not how!”

“Callus Gaius! Hello! Callus?”

“Hmmm, yes, what..? Oh! I know, of course! It must have been carried downvalley by the General's messenger, or one of the ill men travelling down to Trifluvium before the illness made itself known to him.”

“Of course!”

“The first to die, can you remember his name?”

“Why yes, It was Ramirus Septimus Tedlii.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing much. He was a bit of a venturer, and Pater kept me clear of him, to protect me from some of his wilder schemes!”

“Oh!” said a disappointed Roben. “What about the second to die? You suggested that there was a bit of a gap at the beginning.”

“Yes, but that was because two men died almost together fir … OH!”

“What?” said Roben eagerly.

“I remember now! The two men, Ramirus Septimus and Priscus Publius – he was of the Decarinii – they didn't turn up for muster one evening and Pater was FURIOUS. Let me see now ...” he trailed off, thinking hard.

Roben's enthusiasm returned: “And when was this? Was it say six weeks before they died?”

They could all see Callus counting backwards in his head. He raised the head slightly and said slowly, with dawning enlightenment: “Why yes, it was, I deem. … Yes, it was!”

“So why did they not turn up for the muster?”

“I do not know for sure … I have only heard rumours, you understand … but they sent a message the following day, saying they had been injured and would report back in a week or so, when they were again fit for work. Pater was very annoyed but the messenger confirmed that the two of them were scratched and cut and bruised and were lying in a temporary camp near the road at the start of the trees. … “ his eyes widened yet again as another thought came, “why, that messenger – he must have been the third to die, and Pater had despatched him back to the men's camp a day or two later to tell them to hurry up. The messenger then passed on downvalley. Perchance 'twas he who first carried the disease!

“And the deaths bear that out. Then came the gap, and then everyone started falling sick. It must have been those two! And they were nowhere near the rock quarry, so Pater was wrong! The rock quarry can't have been to blame, although those two chose to keep out of Pater's way by going there to work when they felt they could do so, so the rockmen were the first to get infected after the messenger ...”

“Think, lad, think. Where had these two gone?”

“Oh, I don't know if I know, if you know what I mean!”

“What is down there? There where they camped to soak their injuries?”

“Nothing much, just the start of the Forest, a few side streams, the river and the road.”

“What's on the road? Would they have used that or would they have used woodland tracks? What's in the woods? Anything?”

“Not as far as I know. The river runs down, of course, there are animal trails, but we have never had any incident on those that I know about. As for the road, it runs as straight as an arrow, albeit with a few creases and hollows to negotiate, from the settlement all the way to the bend where the road descends across a rockface, a rockface that is like a giant stair in a staircase. The road then rejoins the much lower valley floor and heads towards the shorter climb out of the valley where it joins the road going to Tscharn from Trifluvium. The road you must have come in on, Roben.”

Roben, acknowledged the fact before saying: “Why would those men have been down there?”

“It must have been their few days of rest, otherwise they would have been missed earlier.”

“So they wouldn't have been able to go far?”

“No, about the limit for a day's journeyings, and they would have had to be mounted, would have been to get down to the Street Helm, the peak where the road bends and dives down across the rock face. Hold! I have a thought at the back of my head, but it won't come forward. Sshh now, let me think on it, say nothing to chase it away!”

But Roben could only be patient for so long, and he soon started again with more questions: “What else is down there, in that neighbourhood? Anything else of importance?”

“Of course! There's the other rock quarry! So mayhap Pater was right after all, it was the rock quarry but the OLD one!”

“Now we're getting somewhere! Do you think that these men would have gone down there? Why would they do that on their day of rest?”

“That is beyond me! Most of the men literally rest on their rest days.”

“Hold! Did you not describe these men as venturers, getting into scrapes constantly?”

“I did.”

“Then what was VENTURESOME there then, that would attract them?”

“I can think of nothing lest it be in the older rock quarry, that was still being used, of course, just not as heavily as the new one!”

“There must be something!”

“No! There's nothing there. The road, the river, the old quarry, the peak. That's all. There is no more!”

“If not the old quarry, then it must be one of the other three.”

“The road is just a road, it's boring. The river does nothing out of the ordinary. The peak is … OH!” Callus' face lit up with sudden understanding. “It was the peak! The peak!”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I heard another rumour later, before the disease took hold, but I didn't connect it all up until now. Years ago, when Pater and Carpius Julius came back, it must have been after meeting you, Roben, they had these cars, car being the shortened name for Carrus Biga, and thus could travel faster than anticipated. So the two of them took a little while out to investigate the base of the peak, the Street Helm we call … called … it. They discovered a hidden access that suggested a possible way to climb the peak, but they did not investigate further. They reported this, of course, and it was common knowledge. But then years went by and everyone forgot about it, I suppose.

“The rumour I heard later was that a couple of men had actually done it. This was reported to me by someone else, so I didn't ask the names. They had climbed to the top. We laughed at the descriptions of their ascent, saying that they had to hack their way through cohorts of angry avians at the top, avians that would have never seen a human before, and they were scratched, battered and pecked at by the irritable flocks up there. I thought this was just a usual exaggeration, but suppose one of them, or both, picked up the illness from the AVIANS?”

“By all the Gods, the boy may well have solved it! Well reasoned, young Callus. You must have the right of it. So these two men got infected, didn't realise it, made their way back towards the settlement, realised that they were too dishevelled and cut about to report, so grabbed the first messenger they could in the morning. The messenger was sent back, and it was probably then that he caught the illness. He went on downvalley, unknowing that he carried this dread illness with him. He would have infected anyone he came into contact with. From there, the frequent travellers and wagoneers would have carried this onwards to other settlements. And the General had this new speedy contact system keeping in touch with his outflung soldiery. I fear I may have been responsible to the rapid spread of the doom, for 'twas I who sold all those 'cars' you called them to your General.”

“And all because the Chivans had never developed any bodily defences against this unknown deathly illness.”

“Exactly!”

Roben's face took on a calculating look: “So it is likely we shall find many more Chivan bodies as we travel down to Bellarend. There are so very few up here who have survived. Mayhap, the valley dwellers will have been more lucky, but I know they were even more aloof and distant from any contact with 'natives'. And there is now, or very soon at least there will be, no-one in charge of this vast Empire that you Chivans built! There is a danger of chaos taking hold. We must needs make plans, my friends. BIG plans.”

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … ...

Digrom watched the men emerge from the trees and head up towards the settlement. He himself was the only one in this small community that rode regularly on the back of the animals and he had ranged far and wide, learning every track and every rock that could be seen from the pitiful collection of buildings in which they now lived. The men moved as steadily as they could along the road which had fallen into disuse and was pitted with lumps and holes.

Further up the slope, he could also see his band of colleagues all slipping out and gliding unnoticed away from the buildings up towards their big cave, the one with the hidden entrance that could be so easily overlooked. It was their defence strategy, their only defence strategy.

He watched briefly as a girl scrambled up, carrying a baby.

His baby.

He smiled, but returned to his duty of tracking the potential attackers.

He followed the men by using the tracks near the valley walls, along which he was certain he would be unobserved, for there was a thin tree cover between him and the men, one that allowed him to observe, but which would make it difficult, particularly at this distance, to be himself observed.

He took out his bow, and, with fingers made deft with much practice, strung it even as he was moving fast. The animal knew him well, and he knew the animal well, they worked together almost as a team. Digrom controlled the animal with knee pressure, and the occasional thump in the ribs with a heel.

He saw that the men were armed with those stubby swords he remembered from his childhood, but they did not wear the same uniforms. He counted the men until he ran out of fingers. More of them than he had fingers, then.

He watched as his colleagues set up the various traps and surprises they had prepared. He himself was to harry and drive and divide the opponents, should they prove hostile. If not, he was to be the spokesman, making sure, of course, that he was not placed in an awkward position.

As he observed, it became obvious which one of the men was the leader. This man fascinated him, and Digrom's eyes were drawn repeatedly back to this one. It was irritating that the leader rode in the middle of the pack, such that he was forever being blocked from sight as they progressed.

By and by, the 'visitors' reached the settlement. They stopped at the level ground by the bridge, and spread out, trying to declare themselves peaceful with their exaggerated actions. Digrom looked across to where the others were hiding and saw the sign that everything was prepared. Keeping his bow ready and visible, he took a deep breath and angled his way towards the men, breaking cover some distance away that they could see his steady and calm approach.

He concentrated on the leader as he approached, but was aware of the others. He demonstrably nocked a shaft as he neared, before he stopped short and deliberately looked around in every direction. He nudged with his knees and his beast edged forward.

«Who are you? What do you want? Why do you have swords?»

«Friends we.»

«How do I know that?»

The others had a quick chat amongst themselves and the leader spoke, this time in Chivan: “I am come to find my brother. I was brought up here as a lad and left at the time of the great illness.”

“And what name has brother of you?”

“So you do speak some Chivan! I speak only a little local language. My brother's name is Digrome, at least that was our family name for him. His 'official' name was Egidius Hadrianus. Our father was the last Optio in charge of the Chivan soldiery up here – his name was Maximus Aurelius. Mine is Callus Gaius, now known as Cally.”

“Of what tribe?”

“We are of the Bellarendi.”

“And brother? Why should be here? All Chivans here died.”

“He was injured when a kraak took our mother and him aloft, and she threw him down to safety. Unfortunately he was so injured that he slept for years before waking. He returned to us just after our father died of the illness, but could not walk properly. I was oath-bound to my father to do various tasks and I had to leave – but I vowed to return for my brother. He was last seen being cared for by someone named Barabara.”

“Wait!” He half-turned, made a complicated signal and received a reply from somewhere unseen by the others.

“You wait all here. He comes with,” he said pointing at the leader. “Come Cally, you ride with me. I take you to where brother now is. You others, make camp here, or up there upslope from huts and houses. It flat there, and water sweeter. We return when sun kisses yonder ridge, before going for the night. Cally, if you who you say, then we ride to dam. You go front. I not tell you way.”

“It's good, men. I trust this lad. He's right about the water. That big squat square building there, is the water source, there is an outlet two strides in from the south-east corner. You will find it easily. I'll meet you up there as the sun disappears. Come lad, let's go. What is your name?”

… … ...

They got more than half-way to the dam when they saw an old woman striding along. Digrome, still not having declared himself, called ahead: «Barabara!»

Cally gasped in surprise and rode up to her, dismounting as he got close.

«Barabara? It me, Callus Gaius. You well?»

«Come close. My eyes are not what they were. Show me your face, arse and heel!»

Cally laughed, knowing what she was getting at.

«You Barabara, sure.»

«Show me!»

Cally leant close and allowed her to finger his face. She nodded and he turned round, fumbling with his waist band as he did so. He pulled down his lower garment and let her inspect the scars on his left buttock.

«More marks!»

«Many more,» he acknowledged gravely, baring his heel and showing the birthmark there.

«Yes, you are Callus. Older, wiser, stronger, and now very much a man!»

«My thank for nice word. I glad meet again. Digrome still live, please?»

She smiled at that and glanced at the lad still mounted beside them: «Yes, he is still with us.»

«You take me him?»

«No!» she said, but with a smile, which confused Cally considerably.

“She doesn't need. I here!”

“You! Digrome, is it really you?”

“I called Digrom now – rom not rome. I not say before as we must careful be, we few here now.”

“Come down, brother, that I may hug you.”

“Legs still not good. Easier on animal for me.”

Cally beamed a smile of apology at Barabara and bounded up on his beast again, so he could hug his brother.

… … …

Cally set his men moving again, this time retracing the route they had used to get up here. He grinned at his brother riding beside him, who grinned back.

But tinged with sadness.

He turned round to look behind and waved to his woman and child. They waved back, blinking back tears.

In the five days since their arrival, the men had all been bored but Cally and Digrom had talked nearly the whole time. Cally had shown Digrom some extra things regarding the maintenance of the dam and the aqueduct, and Digrom had shown him some improvements he had made.

But they basically told each other their life stories.

Digrom's was by far the shortest for he had gone nowhere and done nothing, save helping the community here. He had been lucky in that one of the only two young women of his age had preferred him to any other of the eight available young men, and he had fathered a daughter last year. Some of their group had drifted away downvalley in search of more excitement, but there were sufficiently different families here for the community to grow with little chance of inbreeding problems limiting their future.

… … ...

Cally's story was far, far longer and more complicated. It started of course, with the last conversations with their father.

Max had, naturally, received news that the illness had reached Trifluvium, and was spreading rapidly amongst the Chivan community. The messenger that brought him that information had succumbed soon after; he was shaking already when he arrived. Max was no fool, and knew what would happen. He created a plan, and conveyed it to his son. Neither of them believed that it was a probability that the young man could succeed, but they both thought it was a possibility.

The delay that Cally took before departing quite possibly enabled him to achieve many of his targets. Digrom reported that Cally's testing of his memory had meant that the dam and aqueduct had been adequately maintained and the new knowledge had been passed on to the other colleagues that helped with the maintenance. All the community now enjoyed the higher standards of hygiene that the installations provided, so they were keen to maintain standards.

Back then, Cally spent a day or two modifying a wagon to his father's instructions, he scooped up supplies and weaponry, and with a heavy heart and a great deal of fear, he set out on his own, heading for an uncertain future, not at all certain of his abilities. He was physically tired as he alone had done most of the clearing and tidying of the bodies that had been left behind.

With four fraena lashed to the back of his wagon, he travelled downvalley as fast as he could without being reckless. After three days, he saw his first other living human. By then he was travelling down the Tscharn road.

That other person ran away though. There were some bodies here, lying by the road.

He came over the brow of a hill in the road.

He saw a small group, surrounded by a larger group obviously attacking them. The smaller group had a hand of defenders forming a half-circle with their backs to a large roadside rock. The attackers numbered two hands minus one.

Cally didn't hesitate. He sprang from the wagon onto one of the fraena and charged, swinging his gladius as he came into range. He took out three of the attackers with that single charge, and the rest no longer liked the odds. A few blows more and the attackers fled.

When those he had rescued had finished thanking him, they most of them shrank away from him – mainly because he was obviously Chivan but also because he was so young. They explained that they had formed a community close by, and that this party had been out scouting a new place for their enlarged group to inhabit. There was a wide area here, which could be made more defensible. They intended to build a home here, live off the land hereabouts and trade with travellers when travelling resumed.

Cally looked around and saw it was a good spot. He could even see all the way down to the river that flowed out of 'his' valley – the Praebella as the Chivans called it formally, but which had been shortened to the more simple 'Prae'.

Once he had declared his intention of travelling all the way down to the capital, one of the young men decided to join with him rather than stay here with the others. So Cally accepted his company, but wondering how to achieve some of the things his father had told him to do in secret.

Thus Callus Gaius and Merkko set their noses to the south and bade farewell to the others.

For Cally, the priority was to bring some order and training to the raw recruit he now had. Later he would teach him to ride a fraen, but first, he brought the boy into the way of fighting with a partner.

… … …

And so the pair made their way down to Trifluvium, by which time the group numbered four, another lad and his mother.

Following his father's detailed instructions, Callus brought the party to a specific spot in the barracks. The woman immediately disappeared and Cally was cursing himself for wasting his efforts when, a turn of the sand-dropper later, she reappeared, with some small provisions. She started cooking then, while Callus and the others built some defences, the outer ring of which consisted mostly of piling bodies one upon the other.

And none too soon.

The smells and sounds of cooking drew several desperate persons to their location, all of whom tried to attack, rather than request help or companionship. Cally was grateful in one way, for this was better training for the two lads than anything he could have done alone.

Finally, they turned in to get some sleep, Callus having set up a watch schedule.

In this way, their group gradually expanded until they were a dozen.

Callus revealed secretly to Merkko, who by now had become his firm friend, the first real friend he had ever had, some of his father's plans for him, and the two of them sent the others away on valid, but over-frequent missions to achieve the first objective.

Callus checked that the key his father had given him fitted the described lock in the described hidden wall. They opened the door, and the Chivan barracks stash of coin was exposed to them. Lifting off the false floor that Callus had created on the wagon, they covered the base of the wagon with layer upon layer of coin, a hand of layers that covered the entire wagon bed. They would have done more, but then the false bed would not have fitted properly. As it was they struggled to refit it anyway. All this was done over a period of time, so they became experts at releasing the false bed and replacing it.

Some of their group drifted away after a while, having encountered other groups that were not led by a tense, snappy Chivan youth, the second lad and his mother were amongst them.

Others joined them for just that reason, for the driven youth was fierce in defence, and was a good organiser. Merkko and Callus soon learnt to sleep in short bursts, for they worked in the night, and when they were alone during the day, to convert another two wagons to have false beds.

They explained to anyone who asked that they were repairing broken bed boards, but this only happened thrice.

By and by, the three wagons were loaded with the coin, and the treasury was nearly emptied. Max had impressed upon Callus that the coin should be taken down to the Capital and handed over to whoever was in charge down there.

… … ...

Then one day, the group dynamic was changed.

Callus found a half-blind, grizzled, old retired Tesserarius living in his own secret place in the barracks. At first, it was with pure relief that the two of them could at last speak Chivan again with someone fluent in that tongue.

Then a mutual respect came up, helped by the knowledge that the Teserarius was familiar with Callus' father and his record.

The man had introduced himself as Vulpinus Lupus Bellarendi, which made Callus Gaius chuckle, but he did not then explain why.

A strong faith and friendship arose between the two, particularly after the old man told the youngster: “You are well-versed and well-trained Callus. But you are a little too trustful, I deem. I have pretended not to understand the others when they talk amongst themselves. They think of me as a simple, Chivan-speaking old man of limited value and they discuss things amongst themselves. Several of your companions are waiting for a moment when they deem they have little more to learn from you, and then they shall be off. They have visions of starting their own tribes, and they feel that they can learn from you enough to give them an edge over their rivals. But they say nothing of these plans in your hearing.”

Thus it was that the youth became even more introspective and taciturn, so much so that several more drifted away from their group.

But with Vulpinus Lupus' help, those that stayed became a quite effective defensive fighting force.

One night, one pair tried to sneak off at the same time as taking one of the wagons; in the fighting, Merkko was grievously wounded. He died a week later, and Callus Gaius, forcing down his grief, decided there was little more to be gained resting here in Trifluvium, so he set out once more, a dozen men, with four women, eighteen fraena and three wagons.

As they travelled along, there were several skirmishes and more rescued travellers joined them. Not everyone went unscathed in these fights, of course.

And so it was that the band descended the valley and eventually met up with Roben.

Roben took them in, and this 'tribe' was by then easily the largest and most powerful around this part of the Bella valley.

But they all set out for the capital; the capital down there in an even larger valley, through which ran an even larger river, the Cyrillus.

Cally, for by then that was his accepted name, was the leader of the defensive forces, whilst Roben was the overall chief.

The lad had grown up so fast now that he was a real man, perhaps a little before his time to be so. It still didn't disguise his shock when he first saw the mighty river into which the Bella poured.

The group had come down the Bella valley and found that enormous deep valley at the bottom. Where the two valleys joined, on the right bank there was a large fortress which overlooked most of what could be seen, surrounded by a township obviously of those who supplied the fort. This was Decarinium. The fort gates hung open and there were no soldiers to be seen.

They descended to the valley floor, the Bella to their left and they crossed towards the raised mound in the middle of that floor, a raised mound covered with buildings, and even an amphitheater. They were not to know that this amphitheater was a small one, for they had no knowledge of any others. It was still the largest building around.

The Bella flowed past this mound and joined the mighty Cyrillus on the other side of the capital. At long last, Callus realised why the capital was known as Bellarend – it was, quite literally, the end of the Bella.

… … …

Roben had entered the town to find much as he expected. Only a very few Chivans alive, and much chaos and disorder. It was not long before his obvious leadership qualities drew most to him, and his 'tribe' soon doubled and then doubled again in size. He took over command so easily, that it was obvious the citizens wanted, no needed, someone to do so.

Cally was then set to work training an effective force, and was installed as Duke Cally, the title derived from the old Chivan word for 'leader'.

General Canny was his second-in-command and between them they organised an effective fighting force.

Several years passed before Duke Cally could take a hand or so of trusted men to go and fetch his brother from the village so very far away.

… … …

Cally's tale had taken them to the edge of the trees. Digrom knew that he had made light of his trials and tribulations – he had gathered over the past few days from the ferociously loyal soldiers that his brother had done much more, not least executing oath-breakers and killing rivals for Roben's control – and accepted that his brother might not want to talk about those incidents.

Also, in the days together before the departure, Cally had been a faithful and loving uncle to his little Leslet, and become a good friend to his Pavet, Leslet's mother. She in turn had come to love Cally as a true brother.

They had long-discussed the pers and contras of the little family coming with Cally back to the Capital. In the end, though, Pavet could not tear herself away from her mother and her family. Hence her tears as the two men departed.

The brothers looked at each other, and grasped arms.

Cally then turned and led the group into the trees, all now mounted, and each trailing no less than three mountain-bred fraena, their loads evenly distributed.

Digrom turned around, and let his beast take him back to his family.

For he could see no more through his tears.

… … …

Cally pressed the pace and they passed their first night at the little village, hamlet really, called Praevista. There he was honoured, for they remembered his rescue of them those years ago, and his group were well fed. When Cally complained of feeling gritty and dirty, then they had the idea of setting up a bath for him, and for his men, so they stayed a full day there, helping the locals set up the new special offer to future travellers – a fully equipped set of bathing rooms.

They went foraging and hunting during that day, and generally helped the locals as much as they could, this being their way of thanking them for the hospitality they had received. In turn, the locals scrubbed and polished the men's equipment and clothing as they slept, and all were astonished at the brightness when they awoke the following morning.

They made good time descending the valley. Once they were through the bottleneck of Halcyon, then they began to breathe a little easier, and their spirits lifted a little. They felt they were approaching 'home'.

This came as a shock to the Duke, as he realised that he had not had that feeling when up there at the tiny village with his brother.

That night, they camped shortly after fording the Bella and reaching the settlement at Tedlar. They were now on the south side of the Bella, maybe two milla from the settlement at Tedlar. They created a campsite, well supplied by water and quite protected from the elements by a cliff and some rocks. This was also relatively easily defended.

Again they had fallen in with a group of travellers, travellers with elaborately painted covered wagons and a fierce joy of life; a group of travellers, more women than men; a group of travellers where the men were weary from protecting the others and standing guard at night; a group of travellers in need of some relaxation.

The expanded group built a large fire and set to cooking the evening meal. Cally posted some sentries that the travellers could enjoy for once a group togetherness.

Their laughter was infectious and most felt their spirits lift – but Cally didn't. He felt a slow sadness creep up on him, a feeling he later recognised as a sort of sweet sadness that he himself had no family, had had no real youth; and everything that was associated with these lacks.

He fell to thinking.

The men recognised the introspective mood that the Duke had entered, and they generally left him alone.

The fire called to him and he stared into the heart of it, almost hypnotised by the dancing heat, flames and smoke.

Someone took out a lute and strummed gently, the notes adding to the magic of those moments. There were some sighs from others, a few sang softly to the tune, couples stood and danced, and the new wine was enjoyed.

A gentle, relaxing, soul-soothing evening beneath the stars. Relaxing amongst friends, with no worries of dangers.

… … …

Years later, Cally, along with his wife and children, would laugh about that evening but at the time he wallowed in introspection, almost unaware of what was going on around him.

He stared into the embers of the bonfire, feeling vaguely guilty that he was enjoying the melancholy moments. His thoughts were churning, and yet cohesive somehow. He recognised that he was formulating a wish for some degree of permanence, some reason to enjoy his well-appointed house down there in the capital. Yes, he was melancholy, but it was a NICE melancholy, somehow.

There were few large flames now, the woodpile glowing red hot, and the shimmering of the heat wove strange patterns in his mind.

Wisps of smoke rose rapidly on the heated currents, twisting into curves that fascinated him when he wasn't staring at the glowing, shimmering heart of the fire. He followed another curving tendril of smoke as it rose into the night sky. The lute grew a little louder, and there was some clapping of a rhythm.

He realised with a shock that there was a girl, no a woman, dancing over there, her multiple thin robes curving round her curves and fluttering as her body swayed. The curves of both body and clothing somehow matching perfectly those of the rising strands of smoke. He watched as she swayed, and turned and twisted, just like those smoke columns. It was uncanny how the two went so well together.

He focussed more now on the human than on the fire; more on the music and the sway of her hips, the curves of her arms raised aloft; more on her seductive mannerisms than on the burning wood.

He felt a burning in his loins, and a stiffening.

He looked into her eyes.

She looked directly into his.

… … ...

Destiny and dynasty.