Tomal looked Hastelloy over from head to toe and took his time about it. The man thoroughly enjoyed his current position of superiority over Hastelloy; he literally held the life of his commanding officer in his hands. Finally Tomal gave a reply that was accompanied by a sickening smirk that almost motivated Hastelloy enough to rip the tree he embraced out of the ground and wallop Tomal over the head with it.
“Unfortunately he speaks the truth,” Tomal said. “Worse yet, there were numerous witnesses to his noble gesture, witnesses who’s support you’ll need when we get back to Rome.”
“Now that is an inconvenient truth if I ever heard one,” Caesar said as he dismounted his stallion and drew his sword. Casually he walked over to Hastelloy. Slowly, he raised the sword over his head and with one quick motion struck the chains between Hastelloy’s hands.
Hastelloy fell backwards onto his back and looked up to find Caesar standing over him with sword in hand. The general turned the blade to point straight down and with both hands drove it into the ground right next to Hastelloy’s chest. Then he extended a hand and helped Hastelloy to his feet.
“I believe we were enemies this day for the wrong reasons, Senator,” Caesar said as he still held on to Hastelloy’s hand. “I am no tyrant and I seek no throne for myself. I only want to rid the Republic of those who ignore our laws.”
“General, you found me shackled to a tree, put there by Pompey’s men by his orders,” Hastelloy said as he released the handshake to rub the cuts around his wrist for extra effect. “I assure you my allegiance no longer lies with him. If you are sincere about fighting to preserve the Republic rather than attempting to conquer it, you will have no greater friend in the senate than me.”
Caesar extended his hand one more time, and Hastelloy met the handshake. “Senator, it appears we both will prove our words through action in the coming days.”
Hastelloy relaxed the muscles in his hand and began to withdraw from the handshake when Caesar suddenly strengthened his grip and pulled Hastelloy in closer. “I can forgive my enemies, but I make it a policy to never forget their names. Remember that.”
With that, Caesar abruptly let go of Hastelloy’s hand, returned to his mount and rode off to congratulate his soldiers on a hard fought victory. Once he was under way, Hastelloy shot Tomal a stern look that threatened to incinerate his insubordinate engineer.
Tomal simply let out an amused laugh as he prompted the horse forward with a tap of his heels against the animal’s rib cage. “Oh how the tables have turned,” Tomal said. “Come Octavian, let’s join your uncle in the celebration.”
Tomal took off at a full gallop while the young man remained. Octavian walked his horse over to Hastelloy and extended a hand to offer a ride back to camp. Hastelloy looked up at the stranger in confusion. He thoroughly expected to walk the three miles back to Caesar’s camp. Eventually, he grabbed the young man’s hand and pulled himself up to sit behind the saddle on the horse’s rump.
The next words the stranger spoke made Hastelloy smile ear to ear knowing he was among friends.
“It’s good to see you again Captain Hastelloy. Difficult work lies ahead for us,” Valnor said as he guided his horse into a brisk trot toward camp.
Chapter 24: Making a Legend
Tonwen looked up from his work as he sat cross-legged on the ground. Isa was approaching with yet another basket full of seed pods gathered from nearby honey locust trees. The durable plants were about the only consistent feature among the otherwise completely barren wilderness landscape.
A soft groan escaped Tonwen’s throat. He spent the last six weeks living with a dozen other men and the baptizing preacher in the wilderness. Some days were good, like when he accompanied the preacher to the river banks and helped manage the throngs of pilgrims so they could be baptized in an orderly manner. Others were decidedly bad, like today where he was on food preparation duty.
“If you told me, I would never have believed this barren landscape could provide such an abundance of food for a group as large as ours,” Isa said as he hoisted the heavy basket down from his shoulder onto the ground with a dusty thud. “I think I’ve gathered enough for everyone now, would you like some help separating them?”
Tonwen glanced at the twelve overflowing baskets around him and then looked back at Isa to state the obvious, “That would be nice.”
Isa flopped onto the ground, eagerly pulled a full basket closer and dove right in. No task was too menial to dampen the man’s spirit. Since being baptized in the river, Isa was nothing short of transformed. It was as if he’d been waiting his whole life to get away from civilization, throw his livelihood into his God’s hands and trust him to provide. At the moment his God gave him the opportunity to work his fingers to the bone peeling honey locust seed pods, and he delighted in the labor.
Isa picked up the foot long, leathery pod, split the tip with his fingernail and then tore it down the middle. Nestled inside the bright green pulp of the fruit were a couple dozen dark brown seeds which he flicked out one by one into a basket half full of freshly plucked seeds. Once picked clean, Isa playfully tossed the pulpy remnants at Tonwen’s head who in turn used a crude knife to peel the pulp away from the leathery skin. Tonwen placed the edible pulp in a pile and then flung the empty skin back toward its originator’s head, only missing due to Isa’s lightning quick lean to the side.
The seeds would get set out in the sun to dry and later be crushed into flour to make bread while the pulp served as the main dish for evening meals. The two men sat and worked through the baskets, long after the sun went down. Finally they heard joyous laughter approaching, accompanied by the bright orange glow of a lit torch. The bombastic voice of the preacher rose above the rest as his small group of devout followers approached the camp.
“Every day is a good day,” the wiry man bellowed. “Rain or shine, hot or cold doesn’t matter to me. So long as there are people wishing to repent at the river’s edge it is a good day to be alive.”
“People still come?” Isa asked the group of five who walked up to warm themselves by the fire he was starting.
“You should have seen it,” a wide eyed little man named Adam replied. “He was a true force of nature plunging one person after the other into the river water. There was a sea of people stretching to the horizon and he spent ten straight hours without rest or food. The only thing that stopped him was his inability to see after the sun went down.”
“Who needs rest or food when the salvation of so many is at stake,” the preacher added.
Isa looked upon his leader with admiration. “You are on a mission. There is no doubting that fact, and your message will change the world. It’ll no longer be us and them. It will be the entire world because everyone is capable of being loved by God, not just the chosen few.”
Tonwen hated to dampen the jovial mood, but this was his chance to voice his concerns and finally get the preacher’s movement going. “Your time spent at the river banks will certainly change a few lives, all of us are proof of that, but the world? No. Not a chance, at least not operating as we have.”
“Pilgrims are coming from far and wide,” Isa protested as every other man in the commune gathered around the preacher to show their undying support in the pending confrontation.
“How many will remember the message tomorrow, next month, a year from now?” Tonwen countered. “Going the other direction, what if too many come? King Herod is a coward who thinks everyone is out to get him, but he’s not stupid. Once he deems you a disturber and a threat to his power, he will take decisive action. He will strike you down as the lone shepherd and cause the sheep to scatter back to their disorganized lives.”
“If you doubt my message, why do you stay?” the preacher asked in a soft and deeply wounded voice.
“Your message of inclusion speaks to me with a profound voice,” Tonwen assured him. “It is the effectiveness of your communication that I doubt. Your teachings need to evolve from a wild man hollering in the wi
lderness into a bona fide movement. It must be profound and miraculous to get the world’s attention. It must be consistent so that the message may live on even if Herod resorts to violence against you.”
“Profound, miraculous, consistent,” the preacher’s gravelly voice repeated. “I am many things, but certainly none of those.”
“We all are here with you now to help you be those things so that your message may reach any who possess the ability to comprehend it.”
The preacher spread his arms out wide and slowly turned a circle as he laughed hysterically, “Look at me. I am not a leader of men. I am a voice crying out from the wilderness, calling men to task for their deeds and making straight the way of the Lord. Those who want to listen will; those who don’t won’t. ”
“We need to make them listen,” Tonwen objected with a forceful step forward to accentuate his point. “There is no more blatant example of a gluttonous, sinful life than that of King Herod. He murdered his own son. He divorced his legitimate wife to steal away and marry the wife of his brother. He does not have a moral leg to stand on so do not hide in the wilderness from this man. Confront him in the public’s eye to gain the attention of every Hebrew and Roman in the region, and eventually the world.”
The preacher looked like he suffered a blow to the stomach from Tonwen’s words. Dazed and confused his eyes darted from side to side, searching for the right words. He eventually found them. “I will retire for the night to pray on what you’ve said.”
Without another word, the preacher walked past Tonwen with a vacant gaze and continued beyond the reach of the fire’s light and into the unforgiving darkness beyond. No one spoke to Tonwen the rest of the night. They only leveled the occasional angry scowl in his direction.
Tonwen evaluated his words as he lay down for the night. He was content no major errors or unintended insults were made, so he fell asleep with the serenity that the next day things would be better and finally begin moving down the right path. The preacher’s words and Tonwen’s miracles would finally get the lasting attention he needed to accomplish his mission in these lands.
The next morning, with the sun still struggling to rise completely above the horizon, Isa woke Tonwen with a panicked shake of the shoulders.
“Where is he?” Isa asked. “He’s gone.”
“Gone to the river bank alone?” Tonwen asked
“No,” the one named Adam barked. “His bedroll is gone and his footsteps head towards King Herod’s stronghold in Machaerus.”
Tonwen hung his head in grave disappointment. His words the night before were not so well chosen after all. The impulsive fool was going after King Herod alone. The preacher didn’t comprehend that he needed a mass of followers to back his words. Without that support, King Herod could lock the preacher away before anyone could hear a sound from his lips. The pending disaster had an air of inevitability about it Tonwen thought as he hastily assembled the other men to head for Machaerus to perform an intervention if it wasn’t already too late.
Chapter 25: Intimidation
Hastelloy stood on top of the senate house steps along with the other elected officials. Down below lining the streets, climbing statues, and even hanging from trees must have been every citizen in the city of Rome. They were clambering over themselves to get even the slightest glimpse of Caesar as he triumphantly marched his men down the paved road leading to the senate building.
Thousands of men in full armor and shield marched in formation with trumpet and drum bands dispersed intermittently. Behind a cluster of twenty chariots, Caesar sat in the saddle of his towering white stallion. Usually the guest of honor in a parade such as this rode a chariot drawn by four white horses. Hastelloy could see why he chose to forego that tradition in favor of riding his mount. The animal managed to be terrifying and magnificent all at the same time.
As Caesar came to a stop at the base of the senate steps, he raised his right hand to salute those in the crowd. He made a deliberate effort to acknowledge every major cluster of citizens as he turned and rotated in his saddle to demonstrate his love for the common man. The crowd gobbled it up and lavished him with deafening cheers and showered him with rose petals.
Finally Caesar dismounted his steed and made his way to the top of the marble steps. The crowd seemed almost disappointed by the sight of the great man actually having to walk up the steps rather than levitate as a god might. He was a great man, but alas, he was just a man after all.
“It’s remarkable,” a senator standing next to Hastelloy commented. “I’ve never seen a turnout like this before, and I have it on good authority Caesar didn’t pay a single one of them to show up to cheer on his behalf. They genuinely adore him. How does he do it?”
Hastelloy leaned over to the man. “Everybody loves a winner, and he won.”
When Caesar reached the summit of his climb he turned once more to acknowledge the crown and then proceeded into the senate chamber. The crowd was in such a frenzied state that any attempt to give a speech was impractical and to be honest pointless considering the popularity the man already carried. Any public words spoken might actually do more harm than good.
On his way into the senate building Caesar gestured for everyone else to follow. Obediently, the senators filed in behind. The knot in Hastelloy’s stomach was back and tighter than ever as he witnessed the power Caesar had over everything: the military, the people, and now the government.
Caesar didn’t hold an elected office and yet he summoned those who were elected to follow him into their own house of conduct. The only saving thought Hastelloy carried onto the senate floor was that Caesar’s two closest advisors were on his side, at least he thought.
When Hastelloy stepped onto the senate floor, his ears failed to detect the usual low murmur that always filled the hall before a session was called to order. The dead silence almost carried a physical presence in the room. Hastelloy stole a brief glance around the perimeter to see that there was indeed a physical presence. Dozens of armed soldiers ringed the senators as they sat in their marble stadium seating arrangement.
These soldiers were not the ones for show outside in the parade. These were warriors who meant business and most definitely had the ability to carry out that business. Hastelloy longed for the potent presence Gallono and his mastery of hand to hand combat would have provided in this situation. He could not be certain, but the commander was probably talented enough in the trade to take out every one of Caesar’s guards all at the same time. Alas, Gallono was gone so Caesar’s domination of the chamber would stand.
The magistrate banged his staff on the marble floor calling the session to order. The blows in reality were gentle taps, but they reverberated off the walls and filled the silent void within like a blacksmith pounding out a sword. The senators took their seats in good order and Hastelloy noticed Caesar struck the unassuming position of leaning against the back wall. Apparently he was content to be a simple spectator for the moment.
“I call this senate session to order,” the magistrate announced. “First order of business . . .”
“Point of order,” a bold senator from the Populares block interrupted. “I object to the presence of armed soldiers in the senate house. They are a blatant attempt at intimidation to influence any measures that will be debated this day.”
The magistrate paused to look at Caesar, who sent a gentle nod back. With the order given, the magistrate continued. “You misinterpret their presence Senator. These men are here to provide protection in case the traitor Pompey has any violent designs against his former countrymen.”
“Of course they are,” the objecting senator responded in a voice that trailed off into the apprehensive silence of the hall. He had no evidence to the contrary so the senator meekly took his seat again and allowed the magistrate to continue.
“Peoples Tribune, Mark Antony, has a few measures he wishes to propose for debate and vote,” the magistrate gestured for Antony to come forward. “Tribune, you have the floor.”
The man Hastelloy knew as Tomal paced to the center of the floor before he spoke. “Senators, in the interests of the common citizens of Rome, who I humbly represent, I submit the following measures for immediate vote by this body.”
Tomal took a few moments before continuing to visually acknowledge each soldier standing at the ready behind the senate body. Then he held up a list that must have contained several hundred of names. “First. The men on this list, who are known to support Pompey and his forces, will have their assets confiscated by the state and be stripped of their titles and citizenship. They will be considered enemies of Rome and subject to summary execution when found.”
Tomal took fifteen minutes running through the exhaustive list of names. As a wealthy man who once opposed Caesar in the senate and in battle, Hastelloy was quite relieved not to hear his name mentioned. Death meant nothing to him, but the disruption to his plans and the subsequent need to reestablish his wealth and place in society would have been devastating.
Hastelloy aside, the list was extremely thorough at calling out every family of wealth in the Republic that either backed Pompey, or didn’t thoroughly support Caesar with all their heart. The list constituted an open ticket to remove anyone Caesar felt was a threat to his rule.
When Tomal finished the list he looked to the magistrate who obeyed the implied order. “I now call this measure to a vote.”
“You are out of order Magistrate,” the same Populares senator objected. “Debate has not been opened or closed on the matter.”
Hastelloy followed the magistrate’s eyes as they met Caesar’s. The general casually flicked his index finger to the side. Instantly, one of the soldiers moved in behind the vocal opponent.
“Senator”’ the magistrate said. “I believe you have urgent business outside this chamber demanding your attention. Would you please follow your armed escort out and tend to your private business under his protection.”
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