The farmers saluted the taxman as he and his son left, slowly heading their mule-pulled cart toward the east. Once they were far enough not to be heard, Sabino asked:
“Father, why didn’t we stop for lunch? That farmer had boys my age and it would have been nice to get to know them… We don’t have additional farms to visit…”
“You see, Sabino, Licio and his family are pleasant people, but I would not want to spend a moment more there than I have to. It’s undefended frontier, and at the moment nothing is stopping the Longobards from coming to claim those lands.”
“Shouldn’t we go back and warn them to flee?”
“We cannot give the impression of weakness. If they go, by the same logic the next farmers over would eventually have to run away too, and so on and on all the way to the Patriarch in Grado, where we live.”
“I feel bad for them…”
“Think of them as a buffer for us. I would not even bother collecting taxes from them, but the Tribune of Heraclia wants an account of what lands are still under the Empire’s dominion…”
It was an unusually warm early spring afternoon. Primo, Polo, Uncle Licio and his son Tulio, were walking among the Roman ruins of the ancient city of Altinum. It was a ghost town of broken temples, dilapidated stone buildings, and whatever else was strong enough to survive the fury of multiple barbarian hordes. Uncle Licio and Primo were laboriously attempting to heave a large piece of stone onto the cart, while the poor donkey stood patiently. Nearby, Tulio was hammering down a sturdy column with a rusty old axe in order to gather a vertical support for the door back at the farm. He did not understand that he was destroying the historical inscriptions covering that meticulously carved column. He was ignorantly indifferent to the fact that a fine sculpture was falling to the ground and shattering because of his hammering. Conversely, Polo seemed uninterested in the hard labor, and he was instead digging with his hands the base of another stone, clearing the dirt around what he thought was unusual writing.
“Uncle! I don’t think this is Latin… is this Greek?”
Uncle Licio and Primo finally managed to swing the heavy stone onto the cart. Uncle Licio was completely unamused by Polo’s archeological curiosity, but he needed a break and entertaining his nephew’s questions seemed like a good excuse to catch his breath. He slowly approached, his shoulders bent more than usual.
“Well, let’s see… I don’t know how to read, of course, but… I do recognize Latin inscriptions when I see them, and this… no, these are definitely not Latin letters…”
“I could figure that out too, but what is it? Is it Greek?” Polo immediately asked.
Uncle Licio started to feel uncomfortable in face of his own ignorance. He did not care about inscriptions, and sometimes he wished that his nephews were more like his own son. But he was not at ease because these types of contrasts reminded him of what he was hiding from them. Finally, he patiently replied:
“Let me take a better look… I have seen Greek writing in the past, and… I am not sure, but it does not even look Greek to me, to tell you the truth… but I am probably wrong because there are only two kinds of writing in this world: Greek and Latin.”
“Because my thinking is,” Polo added, “this stone is half buried at the foundation of this Roman building, and the building is definitely Roman. Perhaps this is an even more ancient writing than Latin… Hey, we are using these stones to reinforce our house. Maybe the Romans were taking even older stones for the foundations of their houses!”
“Polo, you are giving me a headache!” Uncle Licio blurted out. “And between getting a headache trying to decipher these doodles, and breaking my back trying to lift these stones, I’d rather break my back in half. Now let’s go! We got what we came for.”
Uncle Licio went back to Primo and Tulio who were finishing loading the additional stone that Tulio had hammered down with his rusty old axe. Polo studied a little longer those ancient Venetic inscriptions, running his fingertips over the carved letters, as if memorizing an embossed braille. Then they all slowly started heading back, helping the donkey by pushing the cart when the road got very uneven. It was then that Primo decided to confront his uncle with a pressing issue:
“Uncle, I need to speak to you seriously…”
Uncle Licio quietly listened as they walked along, but he knew he eventually had to tell them the truth about their past, and he was visibly uncomfortable.
“Uncle, please, you know I have always been an obedient nephew, and if you did not want me to venture into distant farms and ports, I listened. Until a few years ago catching frogs, mussels and shrimps by the lagoon was all the adventures a child would need. But I am coming of age now. I ventured to the beach, I have seen ships in the distance, I have talked to other peasants I encountered while fishing in the marshlands. I have always been back by dusk, but this vast farmland is too small for me. We can’t be scared of our own shadows. You won’t even allow us to go to nearby Opterg!”
Uncle Licio was tired by the long day, and he realized that his protectiveness had reached its limit. Perhaps it was time to let his two nephews know why he was extra protective. At least, if they decided to leave, they would know the real risks the might be facing. So he replied:
“Listen Primo… and Polo, you come over here too!”
Polo hopped from behind the cart, catching up with his older brother and his uncle.
“You see boys, I am a cautious man,” Uncle Licio began slowly, “but there is a reason why I am extra vigilant in hiding the two of you. You are old enough now and I feel I can’t contain you anymore. So at least I must tell you what you two should be afraid of, in addition to all the barbarians who have devastated our land. You see… you two are not my blood nephews…”
“What did you just say!?” A shocked Primo interrupted, coming to a halt.
“You are not the sons of my dead brother or sister… In fact, I have no brothers or sisters. And you are not nephews on your Aunt Fausta’s side either… But we raised you as our own children, you know…”
“We know you love us, Uncle, and we love you too…” said Polo. “But why did you kidnap us?”
“No, you see, your aunt and I were servants at the summer estate of your parents, and one night we were abruptly woken up by… a friend you don’t know… and he told us to take the two of you and run as far away as possible. He told us that your parents had been murdered at the winter estate… they had gone there to attend some urgent business. We had to hurry because we were told that those bastard assassins were coming for you too, to eliminate the remaining descendants…”
“Who is this friend that helped us, and where did we flee from?” Primo asked urgently.
“We have some belongings of your parents that we buried in a little metal safe box deep underneath the fireplace. Even if the house burned down, the box would be safe. This evening we can take it out and give you all the answers. I promised your aunt we would tell you together… Oh, no! She will be upset with me that I already broke the news to you…”
“But who wanted to kill us? Was it the Longobards?” Polo insisted.
“No, worse! I mean, the Longobards are ruthless, but worse than ruthless is being callous and conniving… And so we fled… We escaped to the furthest corner of land we could find and still remain among people who spoke our tongue…”
It was almost sunset, and back at the farm Grandma was walking back toward the hut, with her sack full of herbs, berries and roots. Although hard of hearing, she had a smile on her face as she saw the dog barking in her general direction. But it did not appear as welcoming barks. In fact, those were growls. Why was the dog snarling at her, and why was Fausta running out of the house with a horrified expression? Grandma slowly turned around to the most disturbing scene. She saw twelve horsemen approaching fast, and it was the scariest of sights. Despite the blinding glare of the setting sun, she noticed t
hey did not wear tunics, but leather pants. They held long spears, shields, swords, and wore strange helmets… The Longobards had arrived, and they meant business.
In the meanwhile, east of the farm, Uncle Licio and the boys were almost home. Uncle Licio was walking ahead, in a hurry to get home and distancing himself from Primo and his questions. Primo was absently holding the reins of the overburdened donkey, pondering his uncle’s revelations. Polo and Tulio were farther behind. Tulio was teasing the younger Polo, poking him with the handle of his axe he had used to break stones.
As they neared the farm, Uncle Licio immediately noticed the peril. Menacing Longobards were advancing at a pace that left no doubt about their intentions. He frantically ran ahead screaming:
“Faustaaa! Faustaaa!”
Primo left the donkey and ran ahead to aid his uncle. Polo and Tulio also realized the severity of the situation and began to run, although farther behind.
At the other side of the farm, Grandma was hurrying back, and she was only a few dozen yards away, but the first galloping Longobard reached her and from atop his horse he swung his sword to bring Grandma to her atrocious death. Fabia screamed at the sight of her grandmother lying motionless on the ground. The dog lunged forward snarling, but a second Longobard horseman drew back his bow, and with a single arrow dispatched the growling dog. The third Longobard, named Adalulf, arrived in the courtyard, dismounted as the horse was still in motion, and with that momentum, he headed straight toward a petrified Fausta. The Longobard grinned and began speaking in an incomprehensible Germanic tongue:
“Hello, little Latin woman! You like to feed Greek soldiers, don’t you?” Adalulf said in his hoarse voice.
Aunt Fausta did not understand a word, and as he approached her, he backhanded her causing her fall to the ground.
Uncle Licio had finally arrived, and while panting he implored the Longobards:
“Stop! Please stop! Take everything you want! We will be your servants! Please, don’t hurt us!”
Another Longobard, named Castald, understood nothing of what Uncle Licio had implored, and he jumped off his horse holding a dagger menacingly in his right hand. He replied in Germanic:
“You bastard Latin! You were feeding the enemy! We saw you! You die now!”
Castald stabbed Uncle Licio in the abdomen. He opened a large wound and let him fall to the ground bleeding to death. Primo was right behind, and he ran toward Uncle Licio and Castald, even if it was too late.
“Uncle!” he cried.
At that very moment, Wido, one of the Longobards still on horse, violently whacked Primo on the back by swinging full force his shield. Primo fell to the ground face first. Stunned by the impact, he raised his head with sand in his eyes and mouth, and blood rushing from his nose. Then Adalulf, holding Aunt Fausta by the arm, intervened:
“Castald, why don’t you fellows take this farm boy for a ride, while I get acquainted with this Latin woman!”
Adalulf started dragging a resisting Aunt Fausta inside the hut, while Castald tied a rope around Primo’s right ankle and tossed the other end to Wido, who started laughing as he turned his horse around.
Polo and Tulio had almost arrived too, and to be faster they cut through the tall reeds instead of following the curvy road. Tulio was right behind Polo and whispered loudly:
“Polo, stop! I said, stop! We are going to get killed as well!”
Polo was not listening. He had to save his brother or die trying. Right before he was about to emerge from the thick reeds into the courtyard, Tulio whacked Polo on the back of the head with the handle of his rusty old axe. Polo fell down unconscious.
Wido had secured the rope to the horse, and began dragging a screaming Primo. Just the first twenty yards were excruciatingly painful. He felt as though he had been stabbed in the back over and over. He tried to put the left foot down, but his sandal broke apart immediately, and his foot began to bleed. As the horse momentarily slowed down to change directions, Primo tried to grab anything he could find. He managed to hold on to a wooden board nearby the boat he was working on earlier that day. As the horse started galloping, Primo pressed down one edge of the board, holding the other end under one arm. He lifted his body upward off the ground while the rope, tied to his right ankle, pulled him forward.
Primo realized that at least the Longobard had not noticed he was still alive. The board eventually broke from the stress, and Primo bounced onto the gravel. But he held on to what remained of the board, managing to still keep himself from being grazed by the rough sandy ground. The board eventually shattered, but at that moment, the horse also halted, thwarted by a patch of swamp. Primo pivoted on his left foot and the momentum brought him standing up straight. As he rose from the ground, he grabbed a sharp rock and tossed it as hard as he could toward Wido, the Longobard horseman. At that very instant, Wido looked toward Primo, expecting to view a mangled body. What he saw instead, for a split second, was the rock traveling straight toward his face.
The impact was so powerful that the rock cracked Wido’s skull, and he fell from his horse mortally wounded. A few hundred yards back at the hut, an incredulous Castald noticed that one of his men was down, and he screamed in rage toward Primo:
“You bastard farm boy! I will shred you to pieces! Warin! Faruald! Let’s get him! The rest stay back with Adalulf!”
Castald jumped on his horse and led the other two Longobard warriors straight toward their prey. Primo was in shock and pain, but out of survival instinct he ran toward Wido’s horse and leapt onto its back. He started galloping bareback, away from the three barbarians chasing him.
The sun was already setting as Primo fled northwest into enemy’s territory, as he had no other escape route. The chase continued throughout the night at a frantic pace. Unfortunately, a full moon provided the three Longobards plenty of light for them to keep track of Primo. Primo found an old Roman road to follow, but was slowed down when he had to wade a ford on the Sile River. Warin, an able archer, managed to shoot an arrow and hit Primo through his right arm. Though injured, Primo continued at a desperate gallop.
It was almost dawn. The old Roman road Primo was riding on came to a sudden end at the foothills of the Alps. He began to climb, but his horse collapsed out of exhaustion. He was now on foot, with a bloody back, missing a sandal, and with an arrow piercing his arm. The three Longobards were coming closer, but the hill was too steep and bushy for their horses. They were forced to proceed on foot as well, since Primo had chosen the steepest route.
Chapter 2
TRAGIC KINGDOM
Polo started to come to his senses. An orange glow was illuminating his face. The light was coming from the flames of the burning hut. He began to moan as the back of his head painfully throbbed. Tulio, crouching next to him, whispered:
“Shhh, Polo, be quiet! Or they will hear us!”
Polo looked around. Flames were completely engulfing the hut, and eight Longobard warriors were camping out halfway between the gigantic bonfire and their hiding place at the edge of the tall, thick reeds. The scene he witnessed was gruesome. The dog was impaled and the half-eaten goat was roasting on a spit. He saw in the distance his Uncle Licio lying dead. The flames were so bright that he could even see another body farther out. For a moment he thought that was Primo, but it was Grandma instead. Aunt Fausta was lying down on the ground in front of the roasting goat, with her dress tore into rags. Fabia was also lying down next to a Longobard. He looked for Primo too, but he could not find him.
“They are all dead…” Polo sobbed.
“My father and grandmother, yes,” Tulio replied. “My mother, they tortured her in the hut all night. It was horrible to hear. They dragged her out motionless. Fabia is actually alive. She cried hysterically until she collapsed exhausted. I think they are keeping her as a slave… that’s why they tied a rope around her neck…”
“What about Primo?”
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“They started dragging him with a horse, but I don’t know how he managed to escape! A few Longobards started chasing him, and they haven’t come back! Maybe he is still alive…”
At that moment, a Longobard named Gutran got up and began walking toward their hiding spot. The two boys stopped whispering and remained still. The Longobard stopped to relieve himself just a few feet away, and unfortunately, the glow of the flames was lighting up the whole area. Gutran saw them and reached for his sword as he started to alert the other Longobards:
“Hey!”
Polo had to think quickly. He grabbed Tulio’s rusty old axe, and he swung it with all his might toward Gutran’s neck. Gutran fell to the ground dead, and Polo yelled at Tulio:
“Run!”
Polo and Tulio were frantically running southward, away from the Longobards. They were heading into the marshland, and all the Longobards were only a few yards away. They were hidden by reeds so it was not easy to shoot arrows with precision. Polo was running for his life when behind him he heard a burst of excitement among the Longobards, who uttered Germanic noises to one another. They had caught Tulio.
“Run, Polo, run! Aaahhh…” were the last words Tulio pronounced.
Polo turned around to see three Longobards hacking at the same spot on the ground. They were violently finishing off his poor cousin. The other four Longobards, led by Adalulf, were determined to do the same with Polo.
Polo was snaking through the reeds. The soil was moist and he was soon knee deep while his sandals were getting stuck in the mud. He proceeded flat like a frog leaping and twisting, adapting like an amphibious animal to the terrain, sometimes sturdy and sometimes totally submerged. He was distancing himself from the heavy armored Longobards who were not familiar with Polo’s backyard marshland.
As he proceeded south the reeds began to thin out, and Polo swam into a small bayou. The Longobards were losing ground, but they now had a clearer view. They began to shoot a few arrows and hurl rocks with slingshots. Polo was now in open water and the low tide was pulling him toward the open lagoon. He found a sturdy log floating and climbed onto it, trying also to use it as a shield against the incoming arrows.
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