The Centurion's Empire

by Sean McMullen

  "My love, it pleases me very much to sail with you this time. It pleases me beyond telling."

  "Helica, Helica. For years I cursed the waves, wind, and creaking timbers that took me from you, and the thousands of miles between us. Even now I must remind myself not to be lonely as I look out over the water."

  "We shall even be together on that greatest of all voyages," she said with a strange eagerness in her voice.

  "First we must build the greatest of ships," he said with a laugh. 'Tend Quintus well, now. Without his skills there will be no ship, and no escape from this savage world and our enemies."

  "And no hope of children for us," she added in a very small voice.

  Many days later I was able to sit up, and to speak. I confessed to Helica that I had heard her words to Decius, and I told her that I was very confused.

  "My lady, I heard that a great ship is to be built," I said. "I am a mason. I know only walls, arches, and the cutting and fitting of stone."

  "So? Did not Rome stand behind walls of stone for many hundreds of years?" Her eyes were wide, sparkling, pulsating, growing.

  "All the other artisans, the scholars, even the sailors, talk about founding a new city, just as the Trojans built Rome after their city was betrayed."

  "Not a city, Quintus, yet not really a ship as you think of it. You shall design its rooms and corridors, and we Gods of Romulus shall certainly travel in it."

  As her eyes grew I no longer felt the motion of the ship. I seemed to fall for a very long time.

  "I'm going to skip a rather large part of the text now," said the guide. Vitellan noted that several of the students were looking particularly impatient. "If you want to read the Deciad for yourself there are some good translations available in the museum bookshop."

  There were sneers, but no interjections. The students probably disagreed with the guide's translation, yet they were quiet.

  "The Tenebrae reached their garrison in the Cape Verde Islands in spite of the trouble with the crew, and they stayed there for several months. There Quintus completed the

  drawings and estimates for the chambers that the expedition built, the chambers that we are standing above now. He also wrote about two thirds of the Deciad there. Yes? You have a question?"

  "I've always wondered why the 'Gods of Romulus' had to run for it in the first place," said a middle-aged woman with a New York accent. "If they'd been controlling the Roman Empire for so long and they had such advanced technology, surely it would be easier to stay and rally their folk against the Visigoths."

  There were titters from the students at her question.

  "That's almost as big an issue as the fall of Rome itself," the guide replied, and now there were frowns of impatience from those who were hearing the story for the first time and wanted to know how it ended. "Quintus imagines that some malevolent goddess was responsible and he states several times that Juno was attacking the expedition, just as she harassed the Trojans in Virgil's Aeneid.

  "Recent research suggests that the 'Gods of Romulus' were being defeated by a combination of infertility and attacks from an early Christian sect. Arabic documents were discovered in a Spanish library late last century that describe a cult called the Manneleans, a group of 'heroes' who struck down the last of some unspecified pagan gods just as Rome fell. There is also strong evidence that the Manneleans were led by a renegade from the 'Gods of Romulus' themselves. The eminent authority Professor Storey suggests that Constantine, Theodosius, and even Saint Paul might have been this same man. At any rate, the 'Gods of Romulus' were seen as agents of the devil, and a systematic Mannelean campaign of assassination probably began.

  "By itself that may not have been enough, but Quintus mentions a disease similar to gonorrhea that was making many women infertile around that time. Perhaps the Manneleans singled out those who could still conceive, and both the

  'Gods' and Rome went into decline. Eventually someone came up with the idea for this voyage to escape the Manneleans."

  "But what was the point, if they were infertile?"

  "A few of the remaining thirty women probably could

  conceive, but to do so would invite instant attack from their enemies. By targeting only pregnant women and babies they would hit the group at its most vulnerable point. Decius decided to use technology to escape to where the Manneleans could never follow. As it turned out, the stay at the island garrison was quite eventful, as some Mannelean agents seem to have infiltrated the Tenebrae'% crew. There were several murders, and a small battle that took the lives of fifteen men and two 'Gods.' Knowing that his enemies could do great damage if they got as far as the ultimate sanctuary, Decius mustered all those he could trust for yet another secret escape."

  One day, a full month before we were due to sail on, the commander ordered all Gods of Romulus and many of the artisans to board the cornships and inspect our quarters, so that we could make suggestions for the final fittings. At this time the ships had only skeleton crews aboard, and very little in the way of stores.

  Valerius and myself were the last to be rowed out, but no sooner were we taken aboard than the anchors were raised and the ships began making way under a fair breeze. All at once there was a great shouting on the shore as Juno entered the hearts of many left behind. Some groups began to battle each other, and some even tried to launch the beached trireme, but it was still under repair and many planks were missing from the hull.

  Thus did we sail beyond the reach of Juno, long the enemy of Rome and persecutor of both Aeneas and Decius. For all of that day we sailed, and for the following night. At dawn the commander called us together on the flagship, the Nemesis.

  Gods and mortals together, he addressed us.

  "People of Rome: Even at our remote island garrison the enemies of the Gods of Romulus reached out their bloodied hands to slay us, but now they are trapped there. Each mortal among you was ordered aboard yesterday because your loyalty was beyond question. Now we shall sail on to complete our work in safety."

  At this there was a great murmur among us, and

  Rentian, one of the senior Gods of Romulus, raised his hand and spoke out.

  "Commander, we have three ships to sail, yet hardly the crew and stores for a single one."

  "You are right, but all is well," said the commander. "This very morning all stores and crew will he brought aboard the Nemesis, and the empty vessels put to the torch. If the estimates done by Quintus the mason are good, this will give us just enough to complete our task."

  All at once I felt very fearful. The fate of this voyage, the lives of many Romans, everything depended on my hasty calculations. Yet in spite of all my drawings and designs, I knew nothing of our ultimate purpose. There would be a small labyrinth cut into solid rock, and that was all. No city and no ship.

  The next display was a diorama of the island garrison, complete with a battle scene in which tiny figures were frozen in desperate, struggling groups—a disorderly, spontaneous conflict, lacking any of the discipline for which Roman soldiers were famous.

  "Decius is now acknowledged to be one of the greatest navigators in history," the guide said as the group crowded around the diorama. The well-trained sense-host of the Paradise Vistas tour vid scanned the displays systematically. Vitellan paused the vid at several items that caught his interest, then let it continue. The guide began speaking again.

  "It is hard to believe that without the Deciad of Quintus we would know nothing about Decius. The voyages and feats of navigation by Columbus or Erik the Red are nothing compared to what Decius did, yet we had to wait sixteen hundred years to learn about him. He must have been a fantastically charismatic leader to have kept his crew behind him on such long and dangerous voyages.

  "From this point on Quintus was only able to keep a rough diary. When you consider what they must have gone through, it's amazing that he was able to write at all."

  DAY 91: The skies are almost always gray now, and the smallest of the seas could wash over the ver
y walls of Rome. Each day the wind is colder and stronger, and we all now wear the fur jackets and trousers of the northern barbarians. There is no more muttering that the edge of the world is near, as all of the remaining sailors were with the commander when he came here years ago. On the few clear nights I see strange new constellations that circle a celestial pole with no pole star. Among them is a mighty cross that never sets—surely a sign of the Christian God. Is his domain here? Do the Gods of Romulus come to do battle with him?

  DAY 157: Icicles hang from the ropes and fittings, and the clothes of the sailors are stiff with frost. Great islands of floating ice loom all around us so thickly that we must use sweeps to navigate around them. Two steersmen have died of exposure, and there have been some beatings to keep the discipline.

  DAY 170:1 write on land, but this coast is the most barren, cold, forsaken place ever beheld by mortal eyes. Day and night have merged into one, the birds walk about as men, yet the cattle crawl like worms. Everywhere is ice and rock, with not so much as a single tree, or even a blade of grass. Rentian begged the commander to let us return in summer, but he replied that this was summer, and that we had better dig out the first of the chambers quickly, to have shelter in the really bad seasons. Just as Aeneas descended to the Underworld, so have we come here. Stoutest of mortals, Valerius builds a forge and whistles cheerfully.

  "Quintus' dating is not always reliable, but we estimate that this Roman landing in Antarctica took place in February 412 a.d. Two of the men buried at the Cape Verde Islands garrison have fingers and toes missing, probably through frostbite, and these graves have been dated to around 390 a. d. They were almost certainly from Decius' first voyage to Antarctica."

  By now they had moved on to stand before a map of Antarctica, with the site marked by a red arrow. While the tour group stood staring with indifferent interest, the guide pressed a stud beneath a handrail, and the curtains that cov- ered one entire wall were drawn aside. There was a collective gasp, even from the students. Beyond the triple glazing was a gray, choppy sea, with light snow blowing past on a strong wind. The shingle beach was bare and lifeless, just as it had been when the Romans had landed there. Some of the tourists shivered and rubbed their hands, perhaps in sympathy with Quintus, who had had no more than heavy clothing and a tent for shelter when he wrote those words so long ago.

  "I shall read one last passage," the guide announced as she closed the curtains again. "In the year that followed, the expedition dug the chambers that Quintus had designed. It was revealed that they were building a time ship to enable the 'Gods of Romulus' to escape to the future.

  "These strange people may or may not have had the longevity that Quintus attributes to them, but they certainly had some advanced scientific techniques. They had discovered a method for suspended animation that involved antifreeze chemicals such as polyhydric alcohols and glycerols. These were probably extracted from snow-dwelling insects such as springtails, midges, and snowflies, and they allowed the human body to be chilled without tissue damage." If only you knew who would be agreeing with you, thought Vitellan. He paused the vid, then reran her explanation twice. Here was the secret of his own time machine, and here were the people responsible for it. He pondered many seemingly unconnected facts, then keyed the vid to continue.

  "The time ship had to be in a place that was always freezing, but was also so very remote that neither the Manneleans nor curious natives could disturb it while the centuries passed. Decius would have found Eskimos in the Arctic lands that he explored, but Antarctica was so very remote that only the finest Roman ships and navigation techniques would have allowed the people of his time to reach it. With Rome fallen to the Visigoths, Antarctica would be as inaccessible as the moon would be to us after some nuclear war"

  . . . and on that final day that saw neither dawn nor dusk, the Gods of Romulus gathered to drink the golden elixir before sailing away into the ages in their time ship. Like Aeneas, Commander Decius lived this year past in the underworld of this land, paying homage to the gods, his very brothers and sisters. Even as he wiped the last drops of the elixir from his lips, though, his gaze did turn to us, the mortal Romans. Crew of the Nemesis and builders of the time ship, we could never sail back through the islands of ice without him to navigate. Sad, wretched, doomed, our plight reached out to his heart.

  "These brave, loyal Romans will surely perish without me to guide them back," he cried to the assembled Gods of Romulus, dashing his silver goblet to the shingles. "Friends, you have your time ship and may go in safety to some new age. I wish to stay behind. Too many loyal Romans have died already for us, and it is my will that these at least should grow old under a warm sun."

  Then Helica spoke, saying "Decius, my lord. Many years have I been apart from you. Nine decades have I waited since we were married, so how could I now give you up forever? If you would stay in this age so that these brave craftsmen and sailors of Rome might live, then I shall stay too, tending the sick and ever by your side." Even as we cheered their noble sacrifice, the godling Rentian raised his voice in an angry cry. "This is madness! Decius, Helica, you must come with us. Forsake these wretches. They will lead assassins back here to destroy us as we sleep in the time ship."

  Loud and long were his pleadings on that bleak beach, but to no avail. As Decius turned to lead us away, the false Rentian took a lance and flung it full at his back. Had not Valerius pushed him aside and taken the point between his own ribs, we would all have been fated to a cold, lingering death, lost amid storms and islands of towering ice. Only then did Rentian feel remorse, and he ordered choice stores from the time ship itself to be put aboard the Nemesis so that the noble blacksmith's death would be atoned for. Then we were sped on our way.

  That was our parting—the Gods of Romulus into

  rime, and Decius, Helica, and we mortal Romans into the gray and terrible sea.

  The guide closed the book with a snap and declared: "There is no more."

  Some of the tourists shifted uneasily, puzzled by the abrupt ending. This was obviously her standard, dramatic way to end the readings from the Deciad. It brought the focus back to her with a jolt.

  "Late in the Resources War of 2026," she continued, "an Australian hovertank crew found the half-buried remains of a raft made from charred timbers on a pebble beach while conducting a sensor patrol. The nails and metal bands in the timber registered on the tank's instruments, and the crew shoveled away the overlying pebbles to reveal the raft." The group moved over to an air-conditioned glass case the size of a small room, in which were housed the carefully restored remains of the raft. Some of the charred beams showed the chisel strokes of the Roman shipwright who had originally fashioned them.

  "Rentian probably planted some sort of timed incendiary device among the stores that were put aboard the Nemesis. This detonated when the ship was well out to sea. Incredibly, Decius somehow survived, built a raft, and reached the Antarctic coast again. We presume that Helica died when the Nemesis sank, but no further mention is made of her. The fate of Quintus was another matter. The manuscript of the Deciad was found in a lead tube strapped to his body." In a separate case was a lead cylinder about the size of a wine bottle. The metal was bright where it had recently been cut open at one end, and there were letters and symbols scratched in the lead. The guide translated the message:

  "Beware the time ship and Godlings of Romulus. Mark well the tale of Quintus." Now there was absolute silence. Here were the last written words of the author of the Deciad.

  Vitellan reran the seconds where his host's eyes stared at a silk rubbing of the words and symbols from the cylinder. Could it be possible that nobody else but he had grasped

  what Quintus was trying to tell the future? The letters were slightly smaller and neater than those of Quintus in the mockup scroll lying open beside it. Vitellan decided that this should remain his own private secret until he knew more about this century and his own place in it. After another half-dozen reruns and pauses Vitellan final
ly continued on to where the guide was speaking again.

  "We shall never know exactly what happened as the Nemesis sank off the coast of Antarctica," she explained. "Perhaps Decius managed to drag Quintus aboard his raft, but the mason died, probably of exposure. When he reached the shore Decius placed his body in a depression on the beach and covered it with the raft.

  "Nothing of Decius was ever found. He evidently set out overland to avenge Helica's death but died before reaching the time ship. The hovertank BM 895 took both the manuscript and Quintus' mummified body to Jones Base, but within hours they were caught in an Espanic attack. The hovertank was destroyed with all hands in the fighting. Quintus' body was lost when the administration bunker o'f the base received a series of direct hits from Espanic percussion-wave missiles. The Deciad manuscript survived, and was smuggled out to Australian lines a few days later. It contained enough clues to allow the time ship to be located. After the final treaty to end the war was signed, the Australians sent an expedition to find the site. As ^ou know, the time ship has proved fascinating to tourists, being the greatest archeological find since the tomb of Tutankhamen. It had to be developed quickly as an international museum." Leaving the group at the exhibits for a moment, the guide returned her copy of the Deciad to the lectern. The tourists spent a lot more time with the exhibits, now that the end of the Deciad was fresh in their minds. People were nodding and pointing, and Vitellan could even hear snatches of very strangely pronounced Latin in the conversations. After an appropriate interval the guide called for their attention.

  "If you will follow me into the elevator now, we shall have a tour of the parts of the time ship open to the public." The elevator was large and broad, the size of a small room. It descended, then opened into a low-roofed chamber cut out of the rock. Half of it was partitioned off by a double wall of thick glass. Beyond this a tall, well-proportioned man lay on a couch, naked under the fluorescent lights. Beside the couch was a complicated mechanism connected to several vats of liquid and the shutters of two ventilation shafts.