If you have gotten this far you have clicked on the link from Facebook and I thank you. I am attaching the first 15 pages of my book in this post. If you are inclined read critically and take the 10 question survey at the end. Be brutally honest, that's the only way I can improve. I will not know who participated. The chapter headings are just working headings at this time. I have not made a final decision on chapters/titles (still refining) Thanks in advance for your help - this is a much longer and more grueling process than I would have ever thought. I probably should have stuck with a short story and not written a 180,000 word freakin' novel!
DECIUS AUGUSTUS
Text copyright © 2013 Richard L Black
All Rights Reserved
~~1 Return to Rome~~
General Decius Augustus rode an impressive dappled-grey steed as it plodded
the last few miles of the long trek back to Rome. He lifted his head and held
out his chest with a pride he did not feel. He preferred walking with his men
but the walls of Rome were within sight and he would be expected to display his
leadership and rank and return as the great conqueror. Word of the Legion’s return
had preceded them and he could make out frantic movement in the distance as
thousands were waiting to shower them with praise, flowers and palms. A feast
would ensue and spoils and laurels would be distributed. In a few days a new
assignment would be his to endure - the wheels of the empire never stopped
turning.
The legion had put a thousand miles behind them since pulling up stakes
in northwestern Gaul and the weary General had a thousand doubts about the
continuing imperialism of the Roman Empire: How big did the empire need to be?
How many people did they need to subjugate? How many cultures did they need to
crush and police? Greeks, Celts, Turks, Gaul’s, Jews; it never ended - treasures
of gold stolen, treasures of culture destroyed. The campaigns no longer made
sense to the logical General but he kept those thoughts to himself; voicing
them would be heresy and considered treason to the throne.
His left calf throbbed with the pain of a deep gash from the steel blade
of the enemy’s sword; a wound from the last battle still swollen and sore. He
wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and with the tips of his fingers
combed back his long wavy brown hair.
Decius looked at the back of his dirty hands and studied the well-defined
muscles of his forearms; made hard by years of wielding weapons. He
contemplated the scars from conflicts past and the missing little finger on his
right hand; casualty of a worthy adversary years ago. He recalled the enemy’s
sword coming down, his own blocking parry not quick or accurate enough in the
tiring hours of battle to turn his hand properly. The blade caught the outside
of his hand just under the hilt of his own sword. It wasn’t till the battle was
won, the adrenaline sufficiently suppressed that he realized the finger was
gone - cut off at the lower knuckle. The foe paid for his small success by
dying instantly as Decius spun and with full force delivered a back-handed
counter-blow to his exposed neck cutting deep into the spinal cord. No one was
a match for Decius Augustus in close-quarter warfare. Many had fallen to his
sword and proficiency as a warrior - too numerous to remember. Many battles
during his lifetime were seared in his memory forever.
The farmers and citizens living in the country outside the walls of Rome were
starting to line the stone highway. Seven-thousand of the original ten thousand
returning warriors sharpened their columns and focused on creating a triumphant
entrance. Soldiers, who still possessed them, rearranged the long red cloaks of
Rome on their shoulders, shaking the dust and wiping the brow. Those carrying
the banners of the legion and symbols of the empire held them straight and
high. Upon returning from battle, a conquering Roman army would appear
well-worn, bloodied, scarred and tired but not ragged and disheveled.
Wildflowers were thrown in Decius’ path by the revelers. Shouts of praise
and welcome could be heard. Another mile would bring them within the city walls
and to the Via Sacra - the main road leading to the Forum. Cheers could be
heard in the distance. Decius wanted to scream back at them. “Do you cheer the death of men defending a
far-off country that has no worth or meaning to you? Do you cheer the
vanquishing of people that farm and live exactly as you do? Is your peasant
life made better because of this victory?” He answered the questions in his
own way, in his own mind. He kept his focus forward for fear he would shout
epithets at the top of his lungs. His leg hurt, but his heart hurt more. He
wanted to be home, a warm bath behind him, his wounds properly cleaned and
dressed, clad in new robes with a cool quiet place to lay his head and safely
sleep. He simply wanted it all to be over.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur.
~~2 Preparing for the Senate~~
Decius woke the next morning in pain;
his wounded leg, his feet from the miles of walking, and now his back from
having slept for what seemed a full day without moving. He slept unconsciously
- being relieved of the burden and responsibility of a legion and a campaign he
had shouldered for the last two years he was able to lie his head down and leave
the worries of war behind. He slowly opened his eyes and in the fog of waking
saw two women sitting on a bench at the foot of his bed staring down at him. The
one with dark hair addressed him first in well-educated Greek, “My Lord, we
heard you stirring. What can we provide?” Without waiting for an answer she
rose from the bench and knelt beside his leg to check the freshly dressed
wound.
Decius propped himself up leaning on
his left elbow. “Did you do this?” He asked, referring to the clean dressing.
“Yes Lord. I’m sorry if it pains you,
we did our best. It needed to be cleaned and re-bandaged. After a bath you fell
asleep and we thought it best to do the work then so as not to cause you
further discomfort,” she explained.
He vaguely remembered entering
the city, the crowds, the cheering, the showering of flowers and the placing of
palm fronds in his path. The Forum was filled with commoners and royalty alike.
The Senators stood on the stone steps at the entrance to the great senate chamber
in their long white togas trimmed in gold and draped in red sashes awaiting the
General’s verbal and formal report. He remembered reining in the jittery horse
made nervous by the commotion around him, his troops stood in disciplined formation
behind him. Decius sat tall in the saddle and formally addressing the gathered
Senators at the top of the stone stairs. “We
have returned victorious!” he said loudly to the gathered leaders. Seated
comfortably in an ornate chair dressed in a luxurious purple toga Emperor
Tiberius raised his hand in acceptance and blessing causing renewed cheers from
the boisterous crowd.
The ceremony was purposefully short
and Decius turned and dismissed his men with brief but heartfelt praise.
Detailed reports to the Senate would follow tomorrow as well as individual
inquiries from the Military Counsel. The soldiers, after cheering loudly and raising
their weapons in a final salute to their beloved General, disbanded to return
to homes and loved ones or seek out the local pleasure establishments for food,
wine, a bath and whatever physical comfort they desired. The Roman people were
generous to returning legions.
Decius was about to leave the heart
of Rome to return to his home when he was intercepted by two female servants
that led him to this place. He vaguely remembered them removing his armor and
clothing. He recalled being served good wine and being escorted into a warm
pool of water. That was his last memory until this very moment that brought him
the sunlit vision of two women dressed in white sitting not far from the foot
of his bed. The dark-haired one remained kneeling beside him. The quiet one
with the large blue eyes remained seated and silent.
“Who are you?” Decius asked in a
hoarse voice.
“Althaia,” she answered, “and this
one’s name is of no importance. She is here to serve you sire, as am I”. She
spoke perfect Greek and nodded toward the quiet one, who in turn acknowledged
him with a graceful tilt of her head.
“But I owe you both a debt of gratitude.
How can I show you proper gratitude if you remain silent and nameless?” His
question was addressed to the quiet one.
“At your request sire, her name is
Dianthe,” spoke the more confident dark-haired girl.
“You’re Greek?” He queried Althaia.
“No Lord,” she answered.
“Althaia, Dianthe - wherever you are
from - thank you both.” Decius deliberately and slowly spoke their names and
gave each a warm smile. They blushed.
“My Lord must be hungry?” Althaia
asked, looking Decius directly in the eyes. “What do you desire?”
Decius stared back at them both. What
came to his mind was - I should leave
with the two of you, build a farmhouse near a river in the foothills in
Campania. Have a gaggle of children, raise cattle and grow vegetables and
vineyards the rest of my life. But instead he croaked out, “Cool water.”
His gaze moved to the blue sky that could be seen over the balcony wall. “I’d also
like fresh bread, grapes - lots of grapes.” His tone was subdued and
melancholy.
The girls shared a curious glance. Dianthe
stood and left the room to run the errand of her master. Althaia continued to
fuss over the dressing on his leg.
Decius watched the sun brighten the
transparent magenta leaves of the bougainvillea bush flowing over the wall of
the balcony. He longed for delicate flowers and beautiful things to be a part
of his life again. Flashbacks of the
battlefield were in black and white and it was always cold and dark, even if
the battle had occurred on the hottest and driest of days.
In Gaul the fighting was fierce against the Germanic incursion. The
Legion had the upper hand but the enemy was fighting for their homeland. The
enemy's intensity reflected their fight for wives, children and the freedom and
culture they wanted to preserve. Their initial attack came from the left out of
the thick forest. They poured into the meadow in a tidal wave of humanity. They
had the element of surprise and the benefit of the rising sun at their backs.
The legion quickly turned and organized ranks to meet the massive onslaught. Shouting,
screaming and clashing of swords and shields echoed through the light morning
fog. Fighters fell from fatal wounds on both sides for two hours before the enemy
began to fall at a greater rate than the Romans. A seasoned warrior would fight
on with severe cuts and wounds; it was the nature of battle. In the heat of
battle there was no time or place to stop and dress a wound or tie a bandage
around a leg or arm to stop bleeding, a soldier would simply keep fighting. Adrenaline
combined with fear would allow a soldier to fight with vicious wounds until
they would suddenly drop from loss of blood. Soldiers would either faint or
simply lie down with no strength to carry on; these were the dangerous ones.
Decius' leg wound ironically was inflicted by a fallen foe when the
battle was already won. The enemy immediately around him had been slain.
Various singular conflicts raged within yards but seemed under control.
Centurions gathered at the hot spots to fight and slay the remaining foe.
Decius was walking to aid a small pocket of his legionnaires when the blow was
struck. The enemy lay dead-like as Decius passed. He looked down into the open
eyes of the fallen man. He perceived the last breath of life had not escaped
the bloodied warrior but discounted his ability to potentially strike. The stricken
warrior summoned his last bit of strength and fueled by the hatred he felt for
the Romans he reached up and slashed at the back of Decius’ right leg. The sword
cut deep into the calf muscle stopping only at the bone. Decius howled and went
down from pain and exhaustion. Battle adrenaline had not completely vacated his
system. Decius pushed himself to his feet and looked down at the attacker lying
on his back, completely spent but still alive. The enemy's last effort was an
attempt to spit at the Roman that stood above him. The black bloody spittle
barely made it out of his mouth, dribbling down the side of his dirty cheek. He
smiled as Decius lopped off the top of his head just above the nose with a
powerful forehand strike of his battle sword.
Decius was brought out of his stupor
by the tender voice of the quiet one, “My Lord.” The linen of her long white
toga rustled as she knelt beside him with a wooden tray topped with water,
bread and the grapes he had requested. Decius closed his eyes and took in the
sweet smell of Dianthe’s feminine cleanliness, polar opposite to the smell of
sweat, urine and death that emanate from a battlefield. Althaia fussed with his
calloused feet, cleaning off the remnants of the long traveled road. Decius was
too tired to talk or eat so he let these women do what they would with him. He was
hungry but instead of eating he laid back and fell asleep.
Decius awoke groggily and wondered
why the woman was bumping his hip so hard. “Brother! Get up you lazy swine.”
Why is she kicking me in the hip? Decius thought.
“Stop woman!” Decius groaned, trying
to roll away from her.
“I’ll stop when you pull your lazy buttocks
off your bed!” a masculine voice responded. Another thump in his hip had him
reaching for his sword. “Get up brother, it’s time to leave the charms of the
bed chamber and get back to work.”
Decius’ vision and coherency finally
returned. He found himself looking up the short toga of Androcles – Roman
Primus pilus, the legion commander, and Decius’ close friend. They had returned
from battle together and his foot was now firmly planted on Decius’ backside
pumping him like foundry bellows. “Get up… the Senate requests your presence
and report.”
Decius, still groggy and stiff from
his long nights sleep, propped himself up on his elbow. Althaia and Dianthe
were nowhere to be found. Androcles assumed he was looking for the two girls.
“You’ve had them for two days now.
They deserve a break from your undernourished lust. I’ll bring you back soon
enough, they will still be here.” Androcles laughed heartily.
“My brother, you are always
misinterpreting the desires of men, and especially the desires of women. Why
they find you so appealing is beyond my understanding,” Decius cajoled his
friend. He struggled with tired muscles and forced himself to his feet. “Two
days, you say?” Decius questioned as he slowly rose. “I don’t think I’ve moved
from this spot for the entirety. And you, you bull,” Decius motioned with his
chin toward Androcles. “Why do you look fresh as the morning and speak with a
voice of thunder?” Decius held both his hands against the sides of his head
squinting as the sunlight penetrated his fully dilated eyes.
Androcles and Decius had fought
together since they were young teenagers - both were now in their thirtieth
year. Decius came from the privileged families of Rome, born into rank - his
father, a Roman Senator, his mother of Patrician lineage. He enjoyed the best
education and a comfortable childhood.
Androcles was from the Tuscan
highlands. His father was a blacksmith, one of the best in the empire. Years
prior his father found favor with Emperor Augustus for his ability to improve Rome’s
weapons of war. He had happened upon a slave by way of Greece from the Indus
Valley. This slave had worked for a blacksmith in his homeland and acquired a
unique knowledge of metallurgy that made the blades of swords stronger and
sharper and shared this knowledge with Androcles’ father. Androcles’ father was
requested to live near Rome and ply his trade closer to the military center of
the empire but elected to stay in the highlands.
Androcles was the youngest of four
brothers. Each boy had learned blacksmithing from their father. By the time he
was ten years old Androcles was wielding a hammer with the strength of someone
twice his age, pounding out the various shapes of the swords and spears his
father designed. His young arms developed the sinewy muscles that would become
the massively powerful arms he now possessed as a man.
“We go to the Senate today to make
our report - you’re a hero. The campaign was a great success and you are to be
honored, and us with you,” referring to himself and the men of the legion. “It’s
a great day,” Androcles beamed.
Althaia and Dianthe walked into the
room carrying urns of fresh water for washing. Dianthe poured the water into
the large bowl sitting on a wooden table and laid out two small drying cloths.
She stepped aside in a manner of invitation for Decius to come and wash the
fatigue from his face.
“They treat you well, my brother. You
should consider keeping these. I am sure they are skilled in more things than
serving up bathwater,” he chuckled. “The Senate today will agree to any of your
personal requests for reward or pleasure, so choose wisely - these,” nodding at
the two women, “seem like wise choices.”
He shot a lustful glance at the quite one who kept her gaze riveted to
the floor. “Strap on your boots brother, let’s get going,” Androcles boomed.
Althaia timidly approached Decius as
he dipped his hands in the cool water and dowsed his face. “Sire,” she
whispered clutching her hands to her chest and bowing slightly.
Decius straightened, the water
dripping from his nose and brows. “What is it?” he asked impatiently.
“It’s about your boots sire.”
“What about them? Fetch them, I need
to leave.” Decius continued to splash water on his face feeling more alert
already.
“My Lord…,” her voice trailed off, “…my
Lord, I instructed Dianthe to throw them on the trash heap. They were worn
through. They smelled like pigs, and my Lord, they were not worthy of you any
longer. I have brought you a new pair of sandals. They are more suitable to your
duty today.” She spoke confidently but expected to be chided for her
initiative.
Decius thought for a moment then
finally calmed her apprehension. “It’s alright woman, they had seen better
days.”
He picked up one of the soft towels
and wiped his face and hands. At the same time Althaia rushed to present him
the new leather sandals and knelt to help him put them on. Decius lifted each
foot and let her slip the sandals on his feet and lace the bindings. Once
complete, she remained on her knees head down until he stepped away still
expecting some rebuke. He walked to the far wall where clean white tunics hung
from round pegs. He lifted the sleeping toga over his head and hung it on one
of the pegs. He was unashamed standing fully naked before Androcles and the two
women who had begun busying themselves with tidying up the room. Dianthe dared
an innocent glance. What remained in her mind’s eye was more than just the firm
rippled body of a soldier, but the many scars visible from neck to toe; the
harsh reality of a Roman warrior.
Decius donned a long white toga. As
he organized it around his frame Althaia approached and with caution said, “My
Lord, a special toga was delivered earlier. I was told it was prepared for
you.” She removed the beautiful toga picta
from its peg. It was dyed a deep red and tastefully embellished with golden
Phrygian embroidery. Decius was not one to embrace the pomp and formality of
the Roman court but he understood the duty he had as a triumphant General to honor
and respect those who sponsored him, so he reluctantly acquiesced. With
Dianthe’s help he removed the plain white toga he preferred to wear and
replaced it with the elaborately decorated one. Dianthe helped him arrange the
many folds in the robe and perfectly tie the accompanying gold sash. She
produced a comb to improve the look of his tussled wet hair. Decius stopped her
by raising his hand saying, “The robe is enough for today, spare me the
combing.” Dianthe bowed and retreated.
Decius faced the very patient and now
grinning Androcles. They embraced and laughed. Androcles slapped him hard with
both hands on the back. “My Brother, we
have returned no worse for the wear. We are bound to receive many gifts and
rewards. It’s time to collect the bounty for our hard work.”
“Androcles, you are the consummate
mercenary; fighting for the lucre it brings you, not for the cause and love of
the empire.” Decius himself knew deep inside he no longer subscribed to the idealism
of the empire. His fighting fire and been decidedly extinguished. He had seen
too much death, killed too many good men who fought valiantly for causes deemed
more worthy by his own reckoning. He was physically and emotionally spent. He
didn’t have a plan on how to level with the leaders of the Senate and more
importantly level with his father; a father whose bidding he had
uncomplainingly obeyed his entire life.
“Decius!” Androcles planted his meaty
hand firmly on Decius’ shoulder. “You dream of gold,” he accused. “I see that
look in your eyes,” he laughed, entirely misinterpreting the look in Decius’
eyes. “Or are these two courtesans occupying your thoughts of an evening
celebration?” He baited his friend.
Decius was not ready to share his
true thoughts. “Androcles my brother, you know me well. These two have been
most distracting.”
Androcles laughed heartily.
Althaia and Dianthe stood together
off to one side of the chamber with quizzical looks on their faces. Decius had
done nothing but sleep for two days, waking briefly to eat. He had all but ignored
their advances. Althaia, the more perceptive of the two girls concluded there
was something he was hiding from his friend. She committed to find out. A
secret like that could be valuable knowledge in her quest to improve her
circumstances. She bowed as the two muscular and handsome men left the room
together.
SURVEY: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/Y86KZ3V
