Vengeance & Remission

By Amalia Angellinni

It is a story about a Roman soldier, Marcus Lucius, son of the great warrior Maximus, who protects his friends (Appius, Octavian) and falls in love in Julia Fabia, while he is on the way to revenge his killed wife, Decima. It's a story with many risky actions, intrigues and it's about friendship, loyalty and of course love. It's set in the times of the emperor Hadrian.

Review by Emilia Wagner (2013) :
I read it and I liked it a lot, but LOVEFOOL Saga is for me even better. What I was surprised of was the end. There was a lot of action, mysteries and intrigues. I loved it. I was like the BBC series about the emperor Claudius. I think everybody would be pleased to see it as a movie (like Gladiator with Russel Crowe) or a series. It’s very good written, fluently and lyrically. I loved the battle scene. It was impressive! It sounded like music! Like a symphony! Awesome! There is a lot of historical background, but it’s not depressing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amalia Angellinni
• Release date: Apr 12, 2015

Amalia Angellinni

Shortly: I am a passionate writer (among all The Lovefool Saga) and open-minded human being Usual saying: Being occupied is not a problem, it's not even a challenge. It's daily routine. * * * I was born in Italy and from the very beginning, I was fascinated by other worlds. From my childhood, I was spending my time in the world of books, which is multicultural and fascinating. My favourite writers are French Jean de La Fontaine, Jules Verne, American Mark Twain, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Jack London, Canadian Lucy Maud Montgomery, English Jonathan Swift, Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, German brothers Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm and Karol May, Finnish Tove Jansson and, of cours, Italian Carlo Collodi. My grandpa read me books of Henryk Sienkiewicz and „King Macius I” by Janusz Korczak. Polish roots are in my family since my grandpa, who was born in Warsaw, and because of war, he landed under Monte Cassino. [The Battle of Monte Cassino, 1944 (also known as the Battle for Rome and the Battle for Cassino) was a costly series of four battles during World War II, fought by the Allies with the intention of breaking through the Winter Line and seizing Rome. – after Wikipedia]. In addition, he stayed in Italy because of my grandma with a typical Italian surname Francesca. My grandpa said always, you have to be a good soul and you have to meet people and the world. First then, you will be a happy person. Among all, my grandpa told me about Poland and Warsaw Uprising, when his family died, and he took me to the grave of General Władysław Anders. Grandpa gave me the fascination about Poland and we wanted to visit Poland together. Unfortunately, I had to go to Poland alone. I found places, which my grandpa was telling me, as I was a child. I like Poland. That is the reason why some occurrences of my book happen in Warsaw. It is my honour for my grandpa. Fascinated with literature and encourage through my family and friends, I decided to share my – until now rather small – work. I asked the team at Scholar Online Europe, because my first book, „Lovefool”, has international features and it plays partially in Poland. It is a love story between a Polish girl Emilia and Julian. If you liked the saga Twilight by Stephanie Meyer, you will surely like my characters. However, I do not describe vampires or wizards, although there are some magic features in the main story. I see the world as a magic place. Wonders happen every day. The magic of books causes that we create new worlds and we imagine the most beautiful occurrences. People from different countries and cultures share the same emotions. Art and music are the universal languages of the humanity. I studied cultural studies and I hope that I will get to know the diversity of Europe furthermore. I thank to the Scholar Europe Team for support by publishing and promoting my books! You'll find more interviews and book reviews in different languages from my fans at My Homepage at Scholar Online Europe (The Lovefool Saga and other stories - Amalia ANGELLINNI). By buing my books, you support the European integration project Scholar Online Europe. At this point, I feel obligated to say once again THANK YOU to everybody, who supported me on the way. I would be appreciated if you read my BIG THANKS here (translated in Polish and German, too).

Book preview

Original title: VENGEANCE AND REMISSION

Author: Amalia Angellinni

Cover: Rita Beger & AB

Editor: Anne Canders

ISBN 978-83-929832-5-5

Free English Edition (April 2015)

Copyright 2015 Anna Brakoniecka, Scholar Europe (exclusive publisher)

Published by Scholar Online Europa at Smashwords

Contact Amalia:

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

https://amaliaangellinni.wordpress.com

Vengeance & Remission Websites:

http://vengeanceandremission.wordpress.com/

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

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

Meet Amalia @ Twitter

Meet Amalia @ Smashwords

License Notes

This book is written by Amalia Angellinni. This book has been published by Scholar Online Europa at Smashwords. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or otherwise transferred to a third party nor used for commercial purposes. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book without having purchased it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, you should return it to Scholar Europe, bezkartek.pl or Smashwords.com or any other store selling it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

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

John Donne

THANK YOU!

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

Amalia

VENGEANCE AND REMISSION'S SOUNDTRACK:

#1 WAY TO BRITANNIA

#2 TRAFFIC JAM

#3 WAY BACK HOME

#4 WINTER SONG

#5 DANGEROUS PLACES

#6 ONE DAY SOON

#7 RECONING SONG

#8 HOW TO SAVE A LIFE

#1 WAY TO BRITANNIA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maximus laughed even louder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Take courage. State what your powers tell you.

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

pray in prophesy to the Danaans, I swear this—

while I live to look upon the light of day,

no Achaean will raise violent hands against you,

no, not even if you name Agamemnon,

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

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

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

-Who are you? - He asked finally.

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

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

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

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

-I'm not scared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-You... You look sad.

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

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

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

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

-You're not good.

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

-I'm fine. - She said hastily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the game started, Marcus Lucius and Quintus sat opposite each other. Quintus squinted