Centurion's Rise

by Henrikson, Mark

  One of the misplaced bones was glowing bright red. Rotated ninety degrees from its current location was a neon green outline of the bone indicating where it actually belonged. Tonwen reached up and moved the bone into place and then another bone turned red, requiring relocation. One by one, all twenty seven bones and numerous joints and tendons were relocated and reattached until the appendage was good as new.

  Considering the surgery successful, Tonwen blinked hard to turn off the virtual display mode and then glanced around the corner to view the actual results. The man was holding his reformed hand high over his head and singing the praises of the man who healed him. Tonwen did not envy the man for the pain he would endure in a few hours once the anesthetic wore off, but he would have a new hand to show for his suffering at the end of it all.

  Isa turned his head to look about the crowd and finally noticed Tonwen peeking around the corner. With a nod from his friend, Isa moved his hand to rest over the man dying of cancer. Tonwen blinked through the treatment options and initiated the cure that dissolved the numerous tumors until nothing remained of the disease.

  The patient had been doubled over in agony, but when Isa removed his healing hand, the man sprung to his feet and danced about like a child high on honey wine. It took no time at all for the man’s exuberance to infect the entire town, except a certain priest who remained brooding inside the temple walls.

  Tables and chairs were moved into the streets. Any townsperson owning a musical instrument and the slightest ability to use it played in the crowded streets as the rest of the town sang, danced, and prepared a feast to commemorate the miracles they witnessed.

  Isa looked uncomfortable with the praises heaped upon them. The young man even went so far as to suggest Tonwen and Isa should slip away from the town amid the commotion, but Tonwen would have none of it.

  “We will leave in the morning,” Tonwen said. “Healing these people is only the first step in your ministry. Now that you have their attention it is time to deliver the message of inclusion and salvation.”

  “But it wasn’t me,” Isa protested. “It was your elixirs and creams that healed them, and I can’t even begin to explain what happened to that man’s hand. You should be the one they praise.”

  “No,” Tonwen insisted. “You saw me with the crowd earlier. I do not have a charismatic bone in my body. You on the other hand radiate charm and have a rarely matched way with words. You must carry the message for us.”

  Isa still looked unconvinced, so Tonwen cracked a wry smile and put his arm around his friend’s shoulder as he escorted them into the middle of the festivities. “Seeing is believing. You touched those people and they were healed. It is a miracle and we shall leave it at that.”

  Chapter 35: Honorable Man

  Tomal stood quietly atop the grand marble stairs leading to the senate house from the open grounds of the forum. Joining him on high were friends and foes of Caesar coexisting side by side. Senators, military generals, and the wealthy elite who pulled political strings behind the scenes represented a display of unity at the top and provided some measure of assurance to the citizens below that everything was under control.

  Tomal looked out across the forum and failed to find a single square foot of open space for another person to stand. Every corner, tree, statue base, and rooftop was saturated with the subdued and dejected citizenry of Rome.

  People spoke only in whispers. Their adored ruler had just been murdered by those standing on high in front of them. No one felt safe and the air all around the forum dripped with fear and uncertainty. It was oppressive and stifling, and not at all unwarranted given the presence of soldiers around the perimeter of the forum. The question on everyone’s mind seemed to be whether the army was there to maintain order, or something more sinister.

  Content that the forum wouldn’t hold another soul without dislodging a structure from its foundation, Tomal signaled his men to bring out Caesar’s body. The elite of Roman society slowly parted left and right like a curtain opening for the first act of a play. Through the opening marched ten soldiers, five to a side, glistening with gold breast plates and flowing crimson capes. Between them lay Caesar’s body carried on four shields held between the men of the honor guard.

  In stark contrast to the sparkling uniforms of the soldiers, Caesar’s body still donned the blood stained toga he wore the day of the attack. On Tomal’s order, the body remained untouched on the senate floor until the soldiers carried him out to present Caesar’s remains to the people.

  A collective gasp emanated from the throngs below. Those still clinging to any thought that Caesar’s death was just a rumor moaned as their hopes were conclusively dashed. Others were taken aback by the severity of the assault as they saw with their own eyes the pure white fabric Caesar wore now turned crimson; dyed through and through by his own blood. Silence settled over the crowd once more as disbelief and suppressed rage found its way into their hearts.

  The soldiers placed Caesar’s body on a ceremonial slab half way down the senate house steps. Then the ten men of the honor guard continued down the steps and joined the rest of their cohort standing watch to keep everyone off the steps during the ceremony.

  Tomal looked on with pity as Hastelloy slowly stepped forward and down the steps to stand over Caesar’s fallen form. The crowd was seething with hatred and a need for vengeance. Tomal could not, for the life of him, envision how Hastelloy would talk them down from rushing the steps and tearing every man upon them to pieces.

  An uneasy silence hung over the crowd, which reminded Tomal of the soundless void that filled a battlefield before the two sides began having at each other. Every angry eye focused on Hastelloy to hear his words and decide their next course of action. The very fate of the Republic hung in the balance as Hastelloy began speaking.

  “Romans,” Hastelloy shouted with enough volume to fill the ears of every individual present in the forum grounds. “Countrymen, hear my words, every last one, while I tell the sad story about the death of a king.”

  Hastelloy paused to allow the last word to ricochet between the buildings for a moment. “I had the privilege to count Caesar as a friend. He rose from a station of common birth to the highest office in the land, and I respected him for that. He fought valiantly for the glory of Rome in the Gallic wars, and I admired him for that. When I sided with Pompey, and Caesar emerged the victor, he forgave me. He welcomed me back to Rome with gracious arms, and I truly loved him for that.”

  Many among the crowd voiced agreement with the praise of Caesar. Their shouts lacked a certain enthusiasm, however, as everyone could feel the inevitable ‘but’ that was sure to follow. Hastelloy obviously sensed the same vibe and adjusted form accordingly.

  “I hear among you a collective question. If Brutus loved Caesar so, why did he raise a violent hand against him? What wrong did Caesar perpetrate to warrant such response? My reply . . .?”

  “Caesar committed no wrong to the honor of noble Brutus.” As he spoke, Hastelloy stepped around Caesar’s body to stand between it and the citizens below and raised his hands out wide in a grand gesture.

  “The wrong perpetrated was against you the people. During the course of Rome’s noble history many great men have assumed ultimate power over the Republic to deal with emergencies; honorable statesmen the likes of Scipio, Sulla, and Pompey.

  “Every time. Every single time,” Hastelloy repeated, “The power those great men assumed was returned to the place it belonged - the senate. A body elected of the people, by the people, and for you the people of Rome. This was not the case with Caesar.”

  Hastelloy took a few steps down the stairs shaking his head as it hung low into his chest. “I served Caesar honorably, and I would serve him still had he but chosen to serve Rome and not himself.”

  Hastelloy snapped his head up for effect as he continued. “He served us all once. Caesar did Rome great service, but in the end his greatness turned to ambition.

  “Caesar’s final ac
t in life was a proposition to dissolve the senate in favor of his sole leadership. His ambitious words were spoken while his soldiers stood behind the backs of your noble senators with swords drawn.”

  A ruckus rose up from the crowd. Their anger was no longer directed at Hastelloy, but rather the dead man lying behind him. Hastelloy paused to let the uproar of the crowd die down before continuing.

  “Caesar sought to usurp the power of the people and wield it in his greedy hands. The freedoms we all enjoy as citizens of this great Republic would be gone forever, replaced by the tyrannical rule of a king. A great man to be sure, but a single man who could bend the will of every free man in the Republic to serve him. Caesar wanted to be the king of Rome.”

  Again, the crowd raised their collective voice to praise Hastelloy for his actions. “Death to the tyrant. Gods bless noble Brutus, defender of the people,” they all shouted.

  Hastelloy raised his hands to induce silence once more. “Though I loved Caesar, I could not stand for the people of Rome to be made his slaves. So I struck him down.”

  For effect Hastelloy let his voice trail off as he visibly struggled to speak further, but finally he pressed through the grief. “His end was tragic. He was my friend. I slew my friend Caesar because I am a noble Roman first and a friend second.

  “I stand here now, looking upon a mob on the verge of tearing this city, this government, this Republic down to the very ground we stand upon until anger and rage are satisfied.”

  Hastelloy reached into the folds of his toga and produced the bloody blade of a dagger which he thrust high above his head. “This is the weapon I used to strike Caesar down. I stand ready to turn it upon myself if the death of Caesar’s killer will alleviate your rage. I will fall on my blade if it will serve the greater good of the Republic by saving it from rebellion. Would you have my life ended?” Hastelloy asked of the crowd.

  “No!,” the citizens bellowed in unison. Their conversion to Hastelloy’s side was complete. Tomal could only stand and marvel at the accomplishment.

  “Then when any man, woman, or child absent from the forum this day asks you why noble Brutus lives while great Caesar lies interred in the ground you shall have an answer to give. Noble Brutus did not love Caesar less, but rather he loved Rome more. So much in fact that he slew his beloved friend to save the Republic from turning into Caesar’s kingdom.”

  Once more the crowd shouted their approval and promised to spread the word far and wide to any ear that would hear the tale.

  “In life, Caesar’s ambition could not be forgiven, in death I think it can. To honor the life Caesar lived and the grand service he gave, I invite Mark Antony to speak words of praise on his behalf.”

  Resounding applause rose from the crowd with cries of, “Gods bless you Brutus,” mixed in. Hastelloy turned and ascended a few steps until he stood over Caesar’s body. As the cheers from the crowd continued, Hastelloy hunched over the body. He set his bloody dagger next to Caesar and then lay his hand upon the great man’s dead shoulder. He paid his final respects and then made his way back up the steps.

  Tomal felt a nervous knot tie itself around his stomach and give it a good squeeze. He looked over the immense crowd once more before willing his feet forward and down the steps. He had no particular fear of public speaking, but the volume of the crowd present was mind boggling. He also knew full well his words would reverberate throughout the Republic and very likely forward in time for all eternity on this planet.

  At that moment he did not see his audience as the mere 200,000 citizens before him. Instead he envisioned every person that would ever live on the planet from that day forward. The knot tightened its grip on his digestive track to the point he nearly keeled over, but pride and force of will won out. He would not be publically embarrassed, especially not in front of Hastelloy.

  As Tomal passed Hastelloy on the steps, he noticed a faint glint in the Captain’s left hand. It was gone in a flash as Hastelloy passed on Tomal’s right side. He pushed the observation to the back of his mind as he refocused his thoughts on the moment.

  Hastelloy had performed the impossible. He began his speech facing a raging mob that stood ready to disembowel him. Now Hastelloy paced back to his position on top of the senate house steps to the sound of that very same crowd chanting his name and honoring him as their savior.

  Tomal knew his task was a comparatively simple one. Tomal merely needed to pay Caesar appropriate lip service. Then he would read Caesar’s will and secure an immense personal fortune along with his place as ruler of the Republic. Tomal forced his anxiety to the side as he pictured 200,000 people wearing only loin cloths. The mental exercise worked wonders for his confidence as Tomal cleared his throat to address the crowd that now fell silent to hear his words.

  “Dear friends,” Tomal began. “Every man among us is on his own journey through life. Today, by happenstance, we find ourselves standing at the same fork in the road of that journey.”

  Tomal turned and gestured up the stairs toward Hastelloy as he continued. “All of us are free men thanks to noble Brutus and his selfless act to slay the ambitious man who would be king. Owing to his noble act, we are all free to look upon Caesar in one of two ways: remembering the honorable man we loved, or resenting the thought of the ambitious tyrant he apparently aspired to be.”

  Tomal dropped his arm to his side and faced the crowd once more. “I am forced to remember the honorable man I loved since I am unable to give evidence to Caesar’s ambition.

  “Caesar accomplished great deeds in his short life, and I had the privilege of being present for most of them. Together we fought for the glory and honor of Rome against her enemies. We stained fields, too numerous to count, red with blood. Owing to Caesar’s greatness as a general, the dye used on those fields flowed from the veins of our enemies and not our fellow countrymen.

  “The plunder, slaves and ransoms raised from his campaigns were sent home to Rome. The proceeds refilled the empty coffers of the people’s treasury. Not a single sesterce graced his personal accounts; none whatsoever.

  “I speak the truth do I not?” Tomal asked rhetorically. “Profound was his love of country and fellow man.”

  Tomal paused to listen to the crowd as a low murmur hovered about the forum. He couldn’t make out the words, but most present slowly nodded their heads as they recalled the great deeds of Caesar that won their allegiance in the first place.

  Capitalizing on the crowd’s favorable disposition, Tomal gestured for the Vestalis Maxima to bring him the will Caesar filed in their trusted vault.

  In her shimmering white gown and headdress, the Vestalis Maxima proceeded down a dozen steps to reach Tomal where he stood over Caesar’s body. She lowered herself to one knee and presented the will with both hands above her head to Tomal. He took it from the old woman and gestured for her to move away as he circled around in front of Caesar’s body.

  “The noble vestals have entrusted Caesar’s final will and testament into my hands.” Tomal thrust the document over his head for all to bear witness that the thick red wax seal was still intact. “I shall not fill your ears with my words attesting to Caesar’s great love of country. Instead I will testify for Caesar using words written by his own hand.”

  Tomal pulled his own dagger, pristine and free of any crimson, from his toga. Using the innocent blade, he cut through the wax seal as the citizens below looked on with baited breath. Slowly he unfurled the parchment and cleared his throat to read the document aloud.

  “To the people of Rome I bequeath my private arboretum and the newly planted orchards this side of the Tiber River. Let the fruits of these fertile lands be enjoyed by my fellow citizens as part of their Roman birthright.”

  The crowd interrupted Tomal’s recitation with cheers and applause for the generous gift. Tomal gestured with his open arms for the rejoicing citizens to quiet once more before continuing. “That is not the only gift Caesar has left for all of you. I read further from Caesar’s own words
.”

  “I further leave to my fellow man, the bulk of my financial estate. To every lawful citizen of Rome, I leave four thousand sesterces.”

  Nothing could contain the elation that enveloped the common citizens packed into the forum grounds. Most cheered and jumped for joy, others wept without shame, while many simply stood in a state of shock. The sum of their inheritance from Caesar roughly equaled two months wages for a common worker. The gift was substantial and well received.

  Tomal made no attempt to contain the crowd’s emotion, he dropped his hands behind his back and looked over the celebration with concern. Had Caesar just robbed Tomal of the fortune he planned on inheriting? His look softened as he quickly ran through the math in his head.

  Contrary to the assertion that Caesar was giving away the ‘bulk’ of his estate, the reality was the gift only represented a quarter of Caesar’s fortune. Even with his gift to the people, the financial sum Tomal stood to receive in a few short moments would be disgustingly large by any standard. He looked up with a calm eye, now able to appreciate the unbridled joy of the crowd. Prudence said to let the citizens below enjoy their moment, but impatience soon got the better of him. He simply could wait no longer to read of his own inheritance.

  “Will you hear more?” Tomal shouted over the celebration. Silence fell over the euphoric mob with remarkable speed as the hint of more gifts tickled their selfish curiosity. Content he had their undivided attention once more, Tomal brought the piece of parchment back to eye level and continued his oration.

  “To the most capable individual I have ever encountered I leave the balance of my estate and my namesake.”

  Tomal’s pulse quickened with the anticipation of the next sentence. It was all about to be his and the entire city of Rome was present to witness the event. His eyes moved across the page as he read aloud the last line of Caesar’s will.