“Understood,” Badari quietly responded with his exuberance melting away to melancholy. He then stepped back and hollered for all to hear. “The master has returned to inspect his holdings. Let us show him we do not spend our time on his lands standing around; back to your labors.”
While the large crowd dissolved away into the fields again, Tonwen instructed his travel companions to secure two donkeys and a cart to transport some goods and materials back to the coast. Tonwen then put a friendly arm around the chieftain and headed toward a dingy, unassuming outhouse attached to the central hall. “Now, let us see that vault of ours.”
The two men opened the off kilter door and stepped into the four foot by four foot structure. A bench along the back wall had two backside sized holes that any unknowing outsider would assume served the unseemly duty of the building. Together, the two men removed the cover off the bench to reveal a narrow ladder leading to a chamber below.
Badari descended the ladder first and lit a torch once he reached bottom. Tonwen followed and found a solid iron wall at the bottom. Other than the faint outlines of a five foot tall, three foot wide door, the only blemish to the metallic surface was a one inch diameter hole.
The chieftain pulled a necklace out from under his tunic, which carried a cylindrical artifact. The small object had dozens of square sections around its perimeter that looked like they would be mobile under the right conditions. Badari inserted the object into the hole and a series of soft clicks followed and the door slowly creaked open to reveal a twelve foot by twelve foot room encased in solid iron. The chamber shined bright as the desert sun as the torch light bounced off the seemingly endless piles of gold coins.
“Times have certainly been good for you these past few years,” Tonwen admired.
“Good to you,” Badari corrected. “This all belongs to you and your family.”
“Good to us,” Tonwen compromised.
The chieftain just smiled and handed the key over to his master. “I will leave you to your riches while I see to the preparations of your travel companions.”
Tonwen closed the vault door behind his man and immediately got to work. He relocated a dozen overflowing bags of gold away from the far right corner. He then placed his right hand flat against the corner and held it here until his patience was rewarded with an echoing click.
He pulled his hand away from the corner and as if magnetically tied to the movement of his hand, a three foot section of the iron floor opened up to reveal a pitch black hole with ladder rungs built into the side leading to the Nexus chamber.
Tonwen smiled to himself knowing the Nexus chamber was still completely and thoroughly protected. First of all, to the outside world this town had nothing of value so it drew little interest. Second, only the chieftain had a key to the vault. Third, even if an attacker discovered the vault and forced the chieftain to open it, they would take the gold and assume it contained nothing else of value. Even if a robber managed to discover the tunnel, they would never be able to open the Nexus chamber at the end of the three mile tunnel inside the body of the Sphinx. The twenty million lives the Nexus housed were safe and sound.
Two hours later, Tonwen emerged from the outhouse carrying a crate full of ten clay jars, a small bag of coins, and a burlap cloth wrapped around his right hand. He headed to the donkey pulled cart and gently placed the crate among a pile of hay and soft pillows and blankets to ensure the clay jars would not break on their cross desert journey.
He then tossed the light bag of coins to the leader of his caravan. “This operation is not working out as I had hoped just yet. This will serve as partial payment for your men, but I will have to visit my factor when we return to Alexandria to pay the rest of their wages. Ready the men, we will leave once I have adequately chastised the town’s people.”
Tonwen then entered the central hall where he saw Chieftain Badari and three men who looked quite ill. He palmed the key back to the chieftain as he asked, “What ails these men?”
“Cyrus cut his leg last harvest and has carried a fever ever since. Denay and Rasmus both suffer incurable pains in their stomach,” Badari instructed. “We would be most grateful if you could see if there is anything you can do to improve their suffering.”
Tonwen pressed an unseen button on his burlap wrapped hand. The microscopic receiver he implanted in his right eye came to life, displaying a bar chart readout that was superimposed over his usual eyesight. He proceeded to run his right hand up and down Cyrus’ leg. The scan showed a deep staff infection along with the beginning stages of gangrene. Without assistance the patient would certainly lose his leg, and most likely his life. Tonwen blinked his eye lid to progress the list of treatment options until he selected the appropriate one. The tiny handheld medical device in his hand inoculated the infection and regenerated the flesh where the wound once lingered. Cyrus stood up and bounded out of the hall a fully healed man.
Tonwen moved onto the next patient and swung his right hand over his stomach. The diagnosis was appendicitis. Again, Tonwen blinked through the options until the inflamed tail to the intestinal track was cut off and harmlessly dissolved into the man’s body. He too bounded out of the hall with a new lease on life.
The third patient suffered from a bowel obstruction. A few blinks latter the only thing ailing the man was a soiled pair of pants. He scooted out the front door in search of new clothes leaving Tonwen alone with Chieftain Badari.
“The healing touch your family possesses is truly a wonder,” the man admired.
“The real wonder is that the vault contains any gold at all, let alone the copious amounts stored within,” Tonwen responded.
“Money cannot buy good health and the genuine happiness of a thriving community. Your family has provided these luxuries to use for generations. We are your honorable servants until the end of days,” Badari pledged.
“Until we meet again my friend,” Tonwen said as he grasped the man’s hand and then headed out the front door without another word.
The caravan leader helped Tonwen onto his camel and then pulled alongside with his own mount as they left the town behind. “It’s not my place, but if it were me I’d flog that chieftain as an example to the others to be more loyal and productive. This farming village of yours should be producing more income than the tiny bag of gold you handed me as payment earlier.”
“Oh I showed them in my own way what inadequate service to me brings them,” Tonwen responded. His pilgrimage lay ahead of him, but Tonwen couldn’t resist the urge to glance back one more time at his home.
Chapter 18: Crossing the Rubicon
Julius Caesar knelt before a rectangular marble base with alternating bands of deep crimson that flowed into pure white at the middle and back to crimson on the other side. The stone was partially covered by a white cloth with a pyramid formation of seven candles resting on top. The simple altar stood in the corner of the room to honor the great god Jupiter inside his tent. Proudly standing in the middle of the room was the golden eagle resting atop a spear: the thirteenth legion’s badge of pride and honor.
“Great god of gods,” Caesar prayed aloud. “I now stand at a cross roads and seek your guidance. One path leads to Rome and civil war for its citizens. The other leads to yet unconquered lands where riches, fame and glory are sure to abound. Which path do I take?”
An eerie silence hung in the air until an angelic voice whispered to him from all around the room. “The time has come to take your place as the sole ruler of Rome. You will take one legion and march on the capital city.”
“But no armies may cross the Rubicon River,” Caesar challenged. “To do so will give my enemies cause to raise arms against me.”
“If Sulla could, why can’t you?” the whimsical voice asked. “He marched against his unprepared enemies, took the city, and seized the title of dictator for life. Sulla did not know his political ABCs though and gave up the complete control he so easily took. You will grab hold and never let go.”
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sp; “Thy will be done,” Caesar concluded and rose to his feet with an air of certainty about him. He walked out of the tent and signaled the four guards to enter the room once more and protect the sacred eagle. Then Caesar headed for his command tent to make plans with his generals to move the men south toward Rome.
From the shadows of the twilight hour, Valnor silently crept out from behind the marble altar. He was still trembling from the adrenaline rush that hit him just minutes before. Literally, as he reached up to snatch the golden eagle from its distinguished perch, the tent flap opened and Caesar entered to speak with his god. Fortunately in the evening hour the tent was not well lit. While Caesar brought numerous candles to life, Valnor managed to sneak behind the altar base, which was just large enough to conceal him.
He listened in amazement to the conversation between Caesar and his god just moments before. He trusted Hastelloy’s account of hearing the Vestal Virgin talking to her god, but to witness the phenomenon firsthand made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The Alpha leader’s spirit was in complete control of the most dangerous man in the Republic.
Without making a sound Valnor pulled a wave blaster from the folds of his tunic. He was glad to have brought the weapon with him once the regeneration chamber finished returning his life force to a physical body. Under Hastelloy’s orders, the modern weapons were to never leave the chamber, except under the most dire circumstances. Valnor reasoned a mission to steal and destroy the relic containing the Alpha leader’s life force qualified as an appropriate time to use the advanced weapons from his world.
He leveled the blaster at the closest guard and pulled the trigger. Silently an electric blue ray leapt forward, struck the man and locked him into a state of paralysis. Before the other three guards had time to react, they too were immobilized. Valnor stowed the weapon away again, pulled the hood of his brown cloak over his head and stepped forward to finish the job of stealing the golden eagle.
He took extra care not to allow the paralyzed guards to see his face under the hood. The men couldn’t move or talk, but their vision still worked and they’d certainly report to Caesar what they saw once the paralysis wore off. Having the guards recognize his face would certainly ruin the second phase of his plan.
Without a sound, Valnor tucked the eagle under his cloak and made his way out a small gash cut in back of the tent. Without incident he made his way out of the camp and into the woods beyond.
When he was far enough away, Valnor stopped and set the golden eagle on top of a rock. He changed the settings of the wave blaster and pointed the weapon at the relic, pulled the trigger, and a bright red bolt lanced out of the muzzle. The continuous energy beam struck the eagle dead center. First the statue melted to a puddle of liquid gold, then the puddle evaporated away as the atoms were superheated to the point of annihilation.
In a matter of seconds the Alpha relic was no more. Pride and satisfaction washed over Valnor after accomplishing his critical assignment, but a part of him remained surprised at how easy it had been. As he made his way back into the shadowy forest, he set the wave blaster to auto destruct and then tossed the weapon aside. A muffled thump let him know the futuristic weapon was no more.
**********
In the crisp morning air, a young man approached the military camp of the thirteenth legion just across the northern Italian border in Gaul. He rode a horse of no distinction, a useful nag, but nothing more. In tow he led a brimming white stallion that instantly demanded attention from the guards standing watch at one of four entrances to the fortified camp. The magnificent animal stood a full foot taller than any other horse in the vicinity. The thunder clap of its hooves against the hardened dirt road spoke to its stout muscular stature.
One guard approached the young man while the others stood ready to draw their blades if needed. A single rider, in this case a thirteen-year old boy, posed no threat to the camp, but there was protocol to observe or there would be Hades to pay in an organized army.
“State your business or be gone,” the guard ordered.
“My business is with my uncle, General Gaius Julius Caesar,” the boy confidently replied.
The ridiculous declaration instantly brought a wave of hearty laughter over the guards. The one closest to the rider was first to recover his composure and muster a response. “You sure you want to make that claim?”
The guard gestured to the side of the road where two severed heads, dipped in tar, rest on top of their respective spears. “You’re not the first to make such claims on the great man’s lineage since his list of victories started to lengthen.”
The man let the statement hang in the silent air for a set of heart beats before tilting his head to the men behind. “What do you think boys? Those two pikes look in need of some company. Should I let him pass, because splendid gift or not, the general will not show mercy in the face of deception.”
The men roared with jeers and laughter once more. The centre turned his gaze back to the young man who sat stone faced atop his mount. “Go home, boy. No fortune awaits you here with this endeavor.”
“The validity of my claim will be judged by the general and no other,” the stranger stated with an icy stare. “Let me pass without further insult, soldier, for it is likely you will soon be under my command, and I have a vivid memory of those who wrong me.”
The statement nearly drew more laughter, but the possibility of the boy being right made them think twice. “Very well, it’s your neck,” the guard finally said. “Dismount so I can search your person for weapons, and then we’ll see if the general is open for an audience.”
A tunic did not provide a lot of places to conceal weapons of any sort so the pat down was brief. The boy hitched his horse to the nearest tie down and proceeded to lead the towering white stallion toward the central crossroads of the camp. Outside the command tent, he was ordered to stop and wait as the guard entered the tent.
Several minutes later the great man, Gaius Julius Caesar, strutted from the flapping fabric of the tent entrance with the guard and a dozen officers in tow. Caesar did not pay the least bit of attention to the boy. He simply stepped forward to inspect the powerful animal behind him.
“Magnificent,” Caesar sighed finally after running his hands along the neck, legs and back of the horse.
“A gift to commemorate your victories, General, from our family stables in Velitrae,” the young man said. “The finest we have ever produced I dare say.”
“A gift?” Caesar repeated. “From whom, boy, for your likeness carries no recognition for me, and I have a talent for remembering faces and names.”
The stranger pulled a scroll sealed with a wax imprint from his tunic and extended it to Caesar. “The gift is from my mother, Atia. She saw fit to adopt me into her family, and by extension, your family.”
He inclined his head as Caesar took the scroll, “Gaius Octavius Thurinus at your service general.”
Caesar inspected the imprinted wax seal before breaking it to view the words written upon it. Slowly, deliberately, his eyes passed over the document. When finished, the harsh lines around his eyes softened as he lowered the scroll to look at the brilliant white horse again. He handed the scroll to a subordinate, and signaled another to place his saddle upon the animal. Then he looked at the young man with a bright smile.
“My sister wrote me many times about the grandeur of a white stallion in her stables. She also informed me several months ago of her desire to adopt a worthy heir. This seal is unquestionably hers, this horse can only be the one she described, and I can proudly say I have a new nephew.”
Caesar moved forward and embraced Octavian as a member of his family. “Your mother insists I show you the arts of war so you can grow to become a leader of men. You have come at an opportune time to learn.”
The orderly finished attaching the saddle and bridle to the towering horse. He stepped back and instantly realized the animal’s height was such that no man could mount it from the ground. Obedie
ntly, he got down on all fours to provide a step for Caesar to reach the stirrups so he could mount the giant horse.
The size and strength of the animal did not phase Caesar in the least. He marched up to it, stepped onto the orderly’s back and settled comfortably into the saddle. He tested the mount’s obedience to the reins. Satisfied he had adequate control, he turned and issued orders to his officers.
“Assemble the men in the central square. I will return in ten minutes to address the army.” With the orders issued, Caesar rode off at full speed towards the east entrance of the camp and continued right out into the wilderness beyond looking to thoroughly enjoy the ride.
The officers immediately scattered to assemble the legions in the muster field, leaving only Octavian and the guard who led him into the camp. “Looks like you get to live another day, boy, and from now on I will be calling you sir.”
A brief ten minutes later, over five thousand men stood ready on all four sides of the camp crossroads. A quiet murmur floated about as to the assembly’s intent. All discussions ceased with the approach of thunder beating against the ground. Everyone looked to the east and saw Caesar riding to the center of camp atop the largest horse they could ever imagine; the ground literally shook under the animal’s weight with each stride.
Caesar came to a stop at the crossroads and circled twice around to absorb the presence of his entire army around him. The men looked on with obedient anticipation. Caesar acknowledged the salutes and cheers from the men as he came to a full stop. His outward appearance showed nothing but stern confidence as he boldly spoke for all to hear.
“Pompey and the Senate have declared me an enemy of the state. They have branded my actions here in Gaul illegal and me a criminal. By extension, all of you are now considered criminals. Your life’s work is deemed invalid by those in the Senate. Your brothers in arms who fell on the battlefield defending Rome apparently died for nothing in their eyes.”
Centurion's Rise Page 10