Seconds later, every soldier Caesar relied upon for protection in the senate chamber was dead. Their bodies strewn about the senate seats and steps staining the white marble red as the assassins made their way to the speaking floor and surrounded Caesar. Those in the chamber who were actually elected officials ran for their lives to escape the carnage.
Hastelloy pulled his own dagger from under his toga and turned to face Caesar once more. The great man made no effort to run or resist those intent on doing him harm.
“I fear nothing,” Caesar said as he defiantly looked Hastelloy in the eyes. “Jupiter assures me that death is only the beginning.”
“Not for you, and not today,” Hastelloy responded and then thrust his dagger into Caesar’s chest.
The would be dictator staggered backwards into the middle of the assassin’s circle. He calmly surveyed those around him while the dagger protruded from his chest. Without a sound he pulled the excess folds of his toga over his head and resigned to the fate he faced. The man met his dignified end in silence as dozens of blades pierced his flesh.
Finally, Caesar’s lifeless body collapsed to the marble floor of the senate. The pure white fabric he wore was now shredded and almost completely crimson in color. Time stood still as Hastelloy looked upon the culmination of his plotting. The excitement of his success was nearly overtaken by the tragedy of the moment.
For Hastelloy, killing someone to avenge a wrong was righteous. Killing someone in the heat of combat was necessary. Murdering an unarmed individual standing directly in front of him was - disturbing. It wasn’t like swatting a pesky fly, it was personal.
Hastelloy’s moment of introspection came to a premature halt when he heard the thunderclap of horse hooves approach from his left. He turned his head toward the main entrance of the senate house in time to watch Tomal enter the chamber still riding his mount. The intimidating sight of a war horse entering a relatively confined space caused the men gathered around Caesar’s body to scatter. As they moved, the sight of Hastelloy standing over the bloody remains came into Tomal’s line of sight.
“No!” Tomal shouted and leapt down to cradle Caesar’s body in his arms.
Hastelloy gestured for his paid assassins to leave. Many of them looked ready to take matters into their own hands and kill Tomal as well, but Hastelloy would have none of it.
“The situation here is under control,” he said with a stern voice. “Go to your assigned legions around the city and make sure they’re in position to deal with the fallout.” With that the chamber was emptied in good order leaving Hastelloy alone with Tomal.
Tomal released Caesar’s body to rest once more on the floor. He bolted to his feet and charged Hastelloy with a flurry of kicks and punches. Hastelloy parried each blow while conceding ground until his back heel hit the first row of marble seats.
No longer able to defensively give ground, Hastelloy seized the initiative. Tomal’s next punch came from the left side aiming for Hastelloy’s nose. He deflected the blow to the side and twirled his body around until his sweeping right leg connected with the back of Tomal’s knees and took the man clean off his feet.
Tomal landed flat on his back. Before he could move to correct his vulnerable position Hastelloy forced Tomal onto his stomach, pinned both hands behind his back, and then buried a knee square between his shoulder blades.
“You murdering bastard,” Tomal managed to grunt from under Hastelloy’s weight. “You lured him here, pulled me out of the way, and then you killed him.”
“That’s right. I killed the biggest threat to our mission here on this planet,” Hastelloy fired back.
“Our mission is to get off this rock as soon as possible and return home with the Nexus,” Tomal protested. “Without Caesar’s leadership, these people will slide backwards. Maybe all the way back to the stone age, where they would be without our intervention in the first place.”
“Not true,” Hastelloy said while fighting to keep Tomal under his control. “Who is next in line?”
The question caused Tomal’s jerks and convulsions to subside while he contemplated what Hastelloy was implying.
“If you get your anger under control for a moment you’ll see the value in Caesar’s death,” Hastelloy continued. “Caesar was a puppet of the Alpha. Now the leadership of this Republic will fall to someone who supports our mission, not theirs.”
“I don’t believe that for a single second,” Tomal protested. “Caesar was no agent of the Alpha.”
“What you believe is irrelevant,” Hastelloy interrupted as he slowly got off Tomal’s back and stood up. “The deed is done. The only question now is where you go from here to advance your position; our position?”
Though freed from Hastelloy’s pin, Tomal remained on the marble floor for several seconds. Finally, he pushed his upper body off the ground and snapped his legs underneath his torso and slowly rose to his full height and squared off to face Hastelloy.
“Caesar amended his will after I helped him defeat Pompey in Macedonia,” Tomal said with a sly grin that only a wolf in a hen house could hope to match. “He hasn’t changed it since returning to Rome. There is no doubt I will be named his heir.”
“Good,” Hastelloy said. “Now take that line of thinking a step farther. How does that information reach the people so no one will question the validity of the claim?”
Tomal gave the matter some thought before delivering his plan. “I’ll host a funeral in his honor. Here, in the forum atop the senate house steps. I’ll give a eulogy during which the Vestal Virgins shall deliver Caesar’s unopened will to me, and I’ll read it aloud for all to bear witness.
“The entire city is sure to turn out,” Tomal continued. “I doubt the forum will even be able to hold everyone wishing to pay their respects to the greatest man who ever lived.”
Hastelloy shot Tomal a disapproving stare. “Statements like that will only incite more riots. I will speak first to lay out the case why Caesar was dangerous. You will follow by paying tribute to his better virtues and give the people closure.”
Tomal glanced at Caesar’s body once more, closed his eyes and turned away. A tear leaked out the corners of his pinched eyes before they sprung open once more revealing eyes full of purpose and determination. “You murdered the best man I’ve ever known, a man I regarded as a brother.”
Tomal’s emotions got the better of him causing his voice to choke up. After a long pause he continued. “I will play my part and go along with your plan because in the end it benefits me, but know this. You have wronged me in a way I cannot forgive, or forget, and there will be a reckoning.”
Hastelloy softened his executive stare and lowered his head slightly. “I know.” He then turned his head slightly cockeyed and raised an accusing eyebrow. “In the spirit of that statement, what have you done with the best man I have ever known – Gallono?”
“His rebellion came to a fatal conclusion,” Tomal said in a dark tone. A devilish grin crossed his lips as he continued. “I personally sent the unbeatable warrior back to the Nexus.”
“You will want to wipe that smile off your face, Lieutenant. Killing a superior officer carries severe consequences.”
As with every time Hastelloy told one of his children to ‘wipe that smile off their face,’ Tomal’s grin instantly spread from ear to ear. Hastelloy wanted nothing more than to punch his subordinate in the jaw, but he was attempting to enlist his cooperation so he suppressed the urge.
Instead Hastelloy settled for the next best thing. “Fortunately, it bears no consequence this time since I needed Gallono back in Egypt to make sure the Nexus remained hidden. I knew I could count on your help to save Gallono the trouble of making a thousand mile journey to the west. Thanks to you, he will emerge from the regeneration chamber and be there already.”
The statement did the trick as Tomal’s sickening smirk morphed to a scowl with the realization that his actions inadvertently furthered Hastelloy’s plans.
“Now, I belie
ve you have a speech to write and I have a rebelling city to subdue,” Hastelloy said as he headed for the exit. Tomal grabbed the reins of his horse and led the animal out on foot.
“Controlling this city may be harder than you think,” Tomal said under his breath and then left Caesar’s bloody remains alone in the middle of the senate floor.
**********
Dr. Holmes had long since stopped taking notes when Hastelloy revealed he was the assassin of Julius Caesar. He felt the pencil in his hand slipping from his grasp, but couldn’t summon his faculties enough to catch it. The writing utensil fell to the floor with a soft clank that disturbed the barren silence between the two men.
Jeffrey wasn’t quite sure why the patient’s claim was so shocking; after all, just last week Hastelloy said he helped build the Great Pyramid and led the slave exodus from Egypt. Why should his claim to have carried out the most famous murder in all recorded history come as a surprise, it was quickly becoming par for the course? It also provided Dr. Holmes with an opportunity to help the patient.
“A lot of things had to go just right to pull that off,” Jeffrey finally said on his way to pick up his pencil from the floor. “Gallono had to become an invincible gladiator, Tomal had to be an incompetent leader and tick off the masses. The people actually had to rebel, and Caesar actually had to return to Rome in order for you to isolate and kill him. Did I get that about right?”
“There is just no substitute for well laid plans,” Hastelloy mused.
“People doing what you instruct them to do is executing a plan. What you just described is a series of actions carried out by individuals with free will,” Dr. Holmes protested. “How can you possibly view that as executing a plan?”
Hastelloy didn’t bat an eye at the challenge. “By understanding those individuals and what motivated them, I was able to orchestrate their rather predictable reactions to certain situations.”
“No way, it’s too perfect,” Jeffrey countered. “The flawless construct of these events is so outlandish that it can only be your subconscious bringing attention to the impossibility of something so complex coming perfectly together in the end.”
“Perfect,” Hastelloy repeated. “My dear Dr. Holmes, the events that unfolded back in Rome were anything but perfect.”
Chapter 34: Miracles Can Happen
Tonwen and Isa entered the town of Ginae and only drew the attention of a few random street vendors offering to purchase the camel they carried in tow for an obscenely low price. The offers were politely rejected on their way to the town’s temple.
The steps of the modest structure, made of clay bricks rather than proper stone, were littered with the sickly and poor. They all were there begging any who would listen for an act of generosity or kindness. As it happened, Tonwen and Isa were full of both.
Isa took a clay jar full of white cream off the camel’s back and headed for the grotesquely afflicted lepers while Tonwen dispensed food to the hungry. It was not long before a sizeable crowd of curious onlookers gathered. The stage was set, and Tonwen stepped to the forefront while Isa slathered the rotting flesh of the lepers with his mysterious ointment.
“To be a righteous man, one must be a generous man,” Tonwen began with a monotone voice completely devoid of inspiration. “Follow our example and tend to those less fortunate than yourself.”
Yawns and blank stares from the crowd let Tonwen know that his lackluster words were having no effect. He didn’t truly believe the message and as a result it came off as flat and uninspired.
How was he supposed to enlist followers of a new faith to eventually overthrow the people’s obedience to the Alpha; masquerading as the Roman gods? He couldn’t even hold the attention of a single person in the crowd, let alone the millions it would require to accomplish the mission Hastelloy set him upon over thirty years ago.
Tonwen knew he commanded no attention from the crowd, but Isa was another matter entirely. Every man, woman, and child in the crowd marveled at what they saw. The first leper Isa treated, a man hopelessly lost to the rot of his disease, rose to stand upon his once withered legs and brushed away the mangled scales from his arms and face. The renewed man was in complete awe at the sight of his arms, the flesh so clean and new it rivaled a new born infant. He darted off into the crowd and found a woman burdened with a full pale of water. The man gazed upon his reflection on the water’s surface, cried out in delight and then ran down the street dancing and singing for joy about his new lease on life.
This same scenario repeated itself over and over as the lepers, once condemned to a painful and disfigured existence, one by one walked away anew. The commotion caused by the crowd steadily grew until every street and hall was abuzz with stories of the miracles taking place at the temple by a gifted visitor.
The high priest of the town burst forth from the temple doors with determined hatred in his every move. The priest’s flamboyant purple robes billowed behind him as he rushed over to Isa applying his mystical ointment. The priest snatched Isa by the arm and flung him down the steps to the sandy ground below. The priest then struck a menacing pose on the steps and pointed an accusing index finger at Isa as he struggled back to his feet.
“You have no right offering healing to these unholy creatures,” the priest challenged. “God afflicted them with the unclean disease as penance for their life of sin. You have no right to interfere with this example of God’s wrath.”
One measured step at a time, Isa ascended the temple stairs to square off against his accuser. He flung his arm to the side as though he were shooing away a bug and pointed off into the distance. “Be gone Satan! The examples these people need are those of a kind, generous god who bestows healing, not sickness upon his people.”
“Those decaying creatures were not god’s people. They weren’t even Hebrews,” the priest barked back. “They’re Samaritans; foreigners. God punished them for their lack of faith and adherence to his laws.”
“They are fellow human beings equal to all others in God’s eye,” Isa countered and then turned to face the crowd with open arms. “Take the healing of these men as proof, proof that God loves all those who believe in his salvation, not just a chosen few held to obey their priestly masters with fear and superstition.”
The priest grabbed Isa by the arm and spun him back around and delivered an ear piercing slap to his right cheek. The blow sent Isa’s head crashing into his left shoulder.
“Behold,” Isa shouted as he slowly rotated his head to present the left side of his face to the priest. “I meet his violent blow to my right cheek by turning to offer the left. His blow was struck using the left hand, a dirty appendage whose mere touch is an insult. Now if he chooses to strike again this man of elevated status must use his right hand, the hand of dignity and honor. The touch of this hand from such an elevated man is a profound honor. It raises me to his level.”
Isa stared up at the priest in amusement. “Will you strike me again as an equal, or let me be?”
“Bah, let a plague descend upon you,” the priest hissed and then retreated back into the temple without another word or blow struck.
“I trust God to heal any plague I encounter,” Isa responded to the priest’s back and then faced the crowd once more. “Bring me your sick and injured, so I may impart God’s blessings upon them.”
Immediately dozens of town’s people rushed forward with their ailments. Those suffering minor cuts, bruises, and even skin cancer were easily healed by applying the appropriate ointment. Isa spoke to the people and espoused God’s blessings upon them while Tonwen busied himself running back and forth to his camel for the necessary cure.
Two of the town’s people suffered from severe medical issues which required far more than a topical cream to cure. The first man’s right hand was horribly disfigured from a farming accident with fingers and wrist bones jutting out in all directions. The second individual appeared to have an internal cancer devouring him from within. If the man’s skeletal figure was
any indication, he was not long in this world without divine intervention. As instructed, the two waited at the base of the temple steps while the minor miracles were dispensed.
Isa applied ointment to the last patient’s skin and instantly saw the two inch diameter skin cancer lesion fade away from a dark, dried scab to new flesh with a pinkish hue. After the final patient expressed her profound gratitude, Isa moved toward the pair sitting on the steps but was stopped by Tonwen’s grasp under his arm.
Tonwen turned his friend around and pulled his ear in close for a discrete word. “Do not ask questions, just do as I say. Hold your right hand over the man’s broken hand until I give you the signal to move on to the next, where you will hold your hand over his head until he is healed.”
“I don’t understand,” Isa protested in dismay.
“Nor should you,” Tonwen said as he hastily took Isa’s right hand and slipped a leather strap with a small metallic device in the palm over his hand. He then wrapped the hand in a burlap covering to conceal the futuristic device.
Tonwen depressed a button on the side of the device and then said to his friend with the utmost confidence. “Great things are at hand; now do as I have asked.”
Isa slowly stepped down to the pair sitting on the bottom step of the temple. His confident demeanor now replaced by an apprehensive man who looked like he had an arrow pointed at his head. Isa eventually extended a trembling hand out toward the mangled limb of the first patient and held it over the appendage.
Meanwhile, Tonwen slinked away around the corner to stand alone in a shadowy alley between the temple and an adjacent inn. Tonwen blinked his eyes to allow the medical read-out from the implant in his eye to display as a virtual image right in front of him. The device Isa held over the patient performed a scan that generated a three dimensional image of the man’s twisted hand: bones, joints, tendons, and muscles were all clearly visible.
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