“Aren’t we a frightful sight,” a voice said. Heracles felt nauseated looking at Radek. The man was covered in sulfur burns, his beard and hair matted in knots, puss seeping from his multiple wounds and festering eye socket.
“Who the bloody piss are you?” Radek asked, still trying to shield his eye from the sun. He could not make out Heracles’ face, but his voice sounded familiar.
“A friend,” the Greek replied. “And now I’m your new master.” His face darkened at this last remark. This wretched shell of a man would serve him, even unto death. Radek let out a sigh.
“Well any master is better than the mines,” he remarked, his sight slowly returning. He gave an evil grin as he at last recognized Heracles.
“I know you,” he said. The Greek nodded.
“That you do. Come, let us leave this place.” There were about a dozen other men that had been purchased by Heracles. He had paid less for the rest combined than he had for Radek alone. This was not lost on the clerk as he and the foreman watched the rag-tag contingent walk down the slope towards their waiting wagon.
“What make you of that?” the clerk asked. “This man buys a dozen of our least shoddy slaves for market prices, and yet he pays as much for that one wretched creature as for the rest together.” The foreman folded his arms across the chest as a couple of slaves helped Radek into the wagon.
“Our silence has been bought,” he replied. “The slave Radek died of his injuries and lies in the burn pit with the rest of the damned.”
At long last the port of Ostia came into view. It had been more than six years since Artorius had last been home. There had not been time to get a letter to his father through the Imperial Post, so there would be no one to greet them at the docks.
“She hasn’t changed, has she?” Magnus asked, joining his friend on the bow of the ship. Artorius shook his head.
“Looks the same as when we left her,” he replied. Indeed the bustling port looked exactly like he remembered. Though he had been away for years, he knew he could still find his way home blindfolded.
The boat lurched into the slip with a jolt. There were only a handful of other passengers besides the two legionaries; the boat was mostly loaded with goods from Gaul to be sold in the Roman Forum. Artorius and Magnus hefted their packs and strolled down the ramp, their legs wobbly on land as they worked to get used to being on solid ground once more.
“Well I’m off to the textile mill to see if Dad’s in,” Magnus said. “Hopefully Oleg’s around; I haven’t seen him since we first joined the legions!”
“I’ll catch up with you in a day or so,” Artorius replied. “Father and Juliana will be quite surprised to see me, I think. If you get a chance, come up and see us.”
“Will do,” Magnus asserted with a nod. The two men clasped hands and each went on his way.
It was late afternoon and the market traffic was starting to wane slightly. The crowds generally parted for the legionary, his red tunic, gladius, and pack giving away his identity. He was glad that his father lived outside of Ostia rather than in Rome, for legally he would not be allowed to enter the city armed as he was. He continued his way out of town along the paved road for a few miles until he came to an intersection. The road that ran perpendicular to his front was the Via Valeria. To the east it led to Rome; to the west it led to the coast, veering north and eventually taking travelers to Pisae, more than one hundred miles away. It was this way that Artorius went. A few miles later and he came upon a dirt road that curved up the hill that paralleled the main highway. He was now but a couple miles from home.
The sun cast its light over the eastern hills, bathing the area in a red glow. To his right Artorius saw Juliana’s old cottage. He did not know if anyone even lived there now, but he saw a pair of figures-a man and woman from the looks of them-leaving the grounds and heading towards the road. The man carried a walking stick, and Artorius recognized him to be his father, Primus. He gave a laugh and walked towards the couple, his face beaming. He stopped a ways from them, his smile fading as he saw his father and Juliana’s demeanor. Both stared at the ground as they walked; an air of sadness about them.
“Father?” Artorius asked, causing Primus to start. He and Juliana both felt a mixture of emotions; whatever it was that saddened them still overwhelming, and yet the joy of seeing their son standing before them.
“Artorius!” Primus cried, dropping his walking stick and embracing his son hard. “You did not even let us know you were coming home!”
“There was no time,” Artorius replied. “I had just enough time to pack my things before I had to catch the boat.” He then embraced Juliana, his step-mother. “But why the sad faces? Are you not pleased to see me?” Juliana looked down, the trace of a tear visible out of the corner of her eye. Primus was quick to explain.
“I am afraid I have some sad news, my son,” he said, placing a hand on Artorius’ shoulder. “It’s about Camilla.”
“What about her?” Artorius asked. “She married that rich boy-lover Marcellus all those years ago. I figured she’d still be living in high society.” Primus smiled sadly and patted his son on the shoulder before they continued their walk back towards their home. Juliana remained silent, holding her husband’s hand as they walked.
“Camilla’s dead,” Primus said at last. Artorius stopped in his tracks and faced his father, his face filled with shock.
“She died this morning,” Primus continued. “Hers was a sad life at the end. About a year after you returned to the Rhine she had a daughter named Marcia. Marcellus was enraged that she had not born him a son; he immediately divorced her and left her destitute. Since there had been little political gain from their union, her family was powerless to do anything. In fact, they too abandoned her.”
“She came to us soon after,” Juliana said. “We still had my little cottage and I told her she could stay there; poor thing. She asked us not to tell you of her troubles and that she did not want you to concern yourself, seeing as how you had more important things to worry about.”
“Like hell I did!” Artorius retorted. “The war was over; she could have come to me!”
“I think she wanted to,” Juliana replied, “but she feared that like everyone else in her life, you would have turned your back on her.” Artorius turned away and shook his head, feelings of guilt and regret overwhelming him.
“How did she die?” he asked, turning back to face his father and stepmother. Primus turned his gaze towards the ground. Juliana took a deep breath in through her nose before answering.
“She was never well after being so monstrously abandoned,” she said. “She had but one servant living with her, and we tried to see to it that she was taken care of. Her pride would not allow her to accept most things from us, though. She said letting her stay at my cottage was more than enough. She always swore that she would find a way to pay us back, and it hurt her badly to know that she had no means of support that would allow her to do this.
“You know she always asked how you were doing, but remained steadfast in her resolve that you not know of her plight.” Juliana paused, unable to continue.
Whatever differences he and Camilla may have had, he could never forget the girl who had been his best friend in childhood and his first love. At last Juliana broke the silence.
“Your father may scoff at this Artorius, but honestly I think Camilla died of a broken heart.”
“I don’t scoff at the idea at all,” Primus said, looking up at his son once more. “Camilla was a broken woman and nothing would have brought solace to her tortured soul.”
“Except the one thing she denied herself,” Artorius said. He dropped his pack and turned back towards Juliana’s cottage. As he started walking towards it Juliana made a motion to stop him, but Primus grabbed her by the arm.