Rome's Spy (Book 3 of the Soldier of the Republic series)

Rome’s Spy

Book three of the Soldier of the Republic series

By: William Kelso

Visit the author's website http://www.williamkelso.co.uk/

William Kelso is also the author of:

The Shield of Rome

The Fortune of Carthage

Devotio: The House of Mus

The Veteran of Rome series (9)

Soldier of the Republic series (3)

Published in 2019 by KelsoBooks Ltd. Copyright © William Kelso. First Edition

The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

To: Arthur Thomas Paxton (Uncle Tom), 19th Battalion, The King’s (Liverpool) Regiment veteran of the battle of the Somme and Passchendaele

ABOUT ME

Hello, my name is William Kelso. I was born in the Netherlands to British parents. My interest in history and in military history started at a very young age, when I was lucky enough to hear my grandfather describing his experiences of serving in the RAF in North Africa and Italy during World War 2. Recently my family has discovered that one of my Scottish/Northern Irish ancestors fought under Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.

I love writing and bringing to life the ancient world of Rome, Carthage and the Germanic and Celtic tribes. It’s my thing. My aim is to write 100 books in my lifetime. After graduation, I worked for 22 years in financial publishing and event management in the city of London as a salesman for some big conference organizers. Working in the heart of the original Roman city of Londinium I spent many years walking its streets and visiting the places. The names of which still commemorate the 2,000-year-old ancient Roman capital of Britannia; London Wall, Watling Street, London Bridge and Walbrook. The city of London if you know where to look has many fascinating historical corners. So, since the 2nd March 2017 I have freed myself from corporate life and become a full-time writer. It’s one of the best decisions I have ever made. Stories as a form of entertainment are as old as cave man and telling them is what I want to do.

My books are all about ancient Rome, especially the early to mid-republic as this was the age of true Roman greatness. My books include, The Shield of Rome, The Fortune of Carthage, Devotio: The House of Mus, the three books of the Soldier of the Republic series and the nine books of the Veteran of Rome series - Caledonia (1), Hibernia (2), Britannia (3), Hyperborea (4), Germania (5), The Dacian War (6), Armenia Capta (7), Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (8) and Veterans of Rome (9). So, go on. Give them a go.

In my spare time, I help my brother, who is also a Winston Churchill impersonator, run his battlefield tours company which takes people around the battlefields of Arnhem, The Somme, Dunkirk, Agincourt, Normandy, the Rhine crossing and Monte Cassino. I live in London with my wife and support the Help for Heroes charity and a tiger in India.

Dear Reader,

I hope that you will enjoy this book. Rome’s Spy is the third instalment of the Soldier of the Republic series which will eventually contain nine books. Book 4 will be published by February 2020. Feel free to write to me with any feedback on my books. Email: william@kelsoevents.co.uk

Chapter One – The Exchange

Early July 217 BCE, The Cenomani settlement of Cremona, Cis-Alpine Gaul

With his arms folded across his chest, Flavius glared at Nantonos. The Gaul, an older man of around fifty with a short white beard, looked sour and ill at ease as he sat silently in the grass refusing to make eye contact with Flavius. The man was still angry about the raid on his farm, Flavius thought. The raid in which he had kidnapped Amia and her baby. Nantonos had barely said a word since they’d met again that morning. Well let him stew in his misery and humiliation. The man had been lazy and negligent – believing he could not be touched. He should have done a better job defending his family and property. Amia no longer belonged to the Gaul’s Flavius thought.

Turning to look out across the Po Flavius reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. All morning and most of the afternoon he had been waiting just outside Cremona’s river gate. Would Gisgo come? Would the Numidian prince agree to the exchange? Amia was Gisgo’s woman. The deal he had proposed was a straightforward swap. He would get Gisgo, and in return he would free Amia and her baby son and return them to Nantonos with whom she had been living. He’d spent a considerable amount of time preparing the plan and laying the groundwork with Victorix and Agrippina, but the prize made the effort worth it. Amia’s abduction at night from the farm had gone smoothly and, except for Amia who had resisted bitterly, Nantonos and his family had put up little resistance. The second part of the plan depended of course on the Carthaginian voluntarily surrendering himself, Flavius thought, but his Gallic sources had assured him that the woman meant a lot to Gisgo. They had assured him that Gisgo was an honourable man who would not allow Amia to be killed. And if he could capture Gisgo, it would be a huge intelligence coup. The Numidian prince was one of Hannibal’s senior officers and the information he would be able to provide would be priceless. Trebonius, his fat youthful patron and leader of the fledgling intelligence gathering organisation of which he was a member, would be delighted. Idly Flavius turned to glance up at the sun. But so far there had been no sign of the Carthaginian. Gisgo was keeping him waiting and he was beginning to doubt whether he would come at all.

It was late in the afternoon, and no one appeared to be in the mood to speak, as the sweltering summer heat baked the land. Out on the placid waters of the Po, a solitary fisherman was sitting in his boat seemingly asleep and from somewhere out of sight, Flavius could hear a barking dog. Close by hidden in the deep V-shaped ditch, he could smell a dead decomposing animal. He’d chosen Cremona as the spot where the exchange would take place because the Cenomani Gaul’s were trying to stay neutral in the war between Carthage and Rome. Cremona was their principal settlement and the town’s river gate afforded him a good all-round view. No one was going to be able to sneak up on him. It was also the quietest of Cremona’s gates. Along the wooden ramparts behind him, that protected the town, the guards had sought shelter from the blazing sun. For the moment Flavius and his small party were alone.

Silently Flavius turned his attention to Amia. The young red-haired Iberian woman was kneeling on the grass beside him. She seemed calm, having barely said a word since the morning. Her hands were tied behind her back and he had blindfolded her, so that she could not use her eyes to send any secret messages to Nantonos. The girl had a defiant spirit. She had put up a ferocious resistance when he, Caius, Gallus and Victorix had abducted her from Nantonos’s farm, in the dead of night. Her defiance had only grown when she had realised that her captors were Romans. Spitting, scratching and shrieking, Amia had fought back at every opportunity, until he had finally managed to gain control of the situation and calm her down, by taking away her baby son. The threat of being permanently parted from her baby had worked, at least for now Flavius thought, but her sullenness and defiance remained and, as he stared at Amia, Flavius was suddenly eager to get rid of the disruptive, hostile woman. If only Gisgo would surrender himself.

Nearby in the shade Victorix was slowly sipping water from a flask and the bored looking wetnurse, one of Agrippina’s friends, was fanning herself as she held Amia’s baby son in a soft woollen sling around her neck. Mercifully the baby was fast asleep.

I don’t think he is coming, Flavius, Victorix said speaking Latin in his Gallic accent. If he was coming, he would have been here by now.

Maybe, Flavius replied. Nevertheless, we shall wait. There is still some time. Ask Nantonos if he is sure that my message to Gisgo was delivered. That he got the date and place correct.

As Victorix turned to Nantonos and spoke to him in the Gallic language, Flavius glanced again at Amia. What he was doing was nothing short of kidnapping for ransom, extortion, but Rome was fighting for her very survival and he had a duty. A duty to his country. To do what he could to help win the war. So, he’d forced her to reveal all she knew about Gisgo and her arduous trek across the Alps with Hannibal’s army. The information Amia had supplied was interesting but largely useless. Only her relationship to Gisgo had been important. He could get to Gisgo through her. Soon after the kidnapping, he had however realised that the young woman was smart and highly intelligent. In the space of only a few months she seemed to have taught herself to understand and speak much of the Gallic language and no doubt she was now trying to do the same now with Latin. The girl appeared to have a gift for learning foreign languages. He would have to be careful with what he said when she was around.

He says he is certain that your message was delivered to Gisgo, Victorix translated. He personally spoke to Magilus, who agreed to inform the Numidian prince. He says Magilus is a relative of his and a great leader of the Insubres and that he is Gisgo’s friend. But he doesn’t know whether Gisgo will come. The Numidian prince has given no indication about what he will do.

I hope he did not forget to mention that Amia and her baby are going to die, if Gisgo does not show up, Flavius snapped as he glared at the Gaul. For that is what is going to happen.

As Victorix dutifully translated Flavius’s words, Nantonos spluttered in protest.

He said he did, Victorix replied quickly. He did just as you asked him to. Gisgo would never forgive him if he failed to warn him that his woman’s life was being threatened.

Let’s hope so, Flavius growled. But he is keeping us waiting. We are about to find out what this woman really means to Gisgo.

Sitting on the grass, Victorix turned to give Amia a sudden sympathetic look.

Are you really going to kill her and the baby if Gisgo does not show up? Victorix said. I kind of like her. The girl has spirit.

But Flavius did not reply as he glared at Nantonos. For a forty-five-year-old, Flavius was still fit and healthy, with a clean-shaven chin, short blond hair and a rugged tradesman’s appearance. Too old for active service other than with Placentia’s homeguard - fate and fortune had connived to turn him into a spy. A spy in the service of Rome. For a long while no one spoke. As he stood gazing at Nantonos, his arms folded across his chest, Flavius could feel the oppressive afternoon heat trying to dull his senses. But he had to stay alert. He had to remain watchful and on his guard. In this spying game, in which he was now deeply involved, this ruthless and unseen struggle with Punic agents; one mistake like his brush with Kleptos the assassin, could prove fatal. One more miscalculation, like the debacle last year with Dasius Brundisius could ruin him.

Victorix, Flavius said at last glancing at his Gallic friend. Ask Nantonos where Magilus and Gisgo were when he delivered my message.

As Victorix turned and spoke to Nantonos, Flavius quickly turned to survey the river and the paths leading towards the river gate but, apart from the lazy fisherman and the town guards, there was no one about. There was still no sign of Gisgo, and the sun was already well on its way to the western horizon.

He says he caught up with Magilus at lake Trasimene, a day after the battle, Victorix said in a subdued voice. He says Hannibal is victorious and that Gisgo survived the battle. He claims to have seen with his own eyes the thousands of Roman dead along the lake shore. It was not a battle. It was a massacre. He says that Rome’s days as master of Italy are over.

Swiftly Flavius turned to stare at Nantonos and saw the Gaul’s face break into a little smirk.

Lake Trasimene, Flavius repeated. So, the news of our defeat is true then.

It appears so, Victorix muttered.

For a moment Flavius remained silent, as he gazed at the smirking Nantonos. Then sombrely he looked away.

Setbacks and defeat are to be expected, Flavius said stoically. The fortunes of war ebb and flow but what matters is the will to keep going. To keep fighting. Rome will endure, Victorix. We shall see this through to the end as we always do.

Sitting in the grass, Victorix looked away and said nothing.

For a while the small party remained silent. Then at last Nantonos broke the silence, defiantly raising his chin as he spoke in his native language.

Nantonos asks you how you will recognise Gisgo, Victorix translated. You have never met the man. He wants to know how you will be sure that it is him, if he comes, and not an impostor.

Quickly Flavius turned to Nantonos. It was a good question, but he was not about to reveal what he knew to the Gaul. During his interrogation of Amia, with Victorix acting as a translator, he had bombarded her with questions. Most of the questions had been harmless but hidden amongst them was the question to which he had really wanted an answer and Amia had given it to him. In addition to a physical description she had revealed that Gisgo had lost his wife and son in a shipwreck before the war and that, as a reminder of his dead family, he wore an amulet around his neck with three tiny, painted and distinctive terracotta heads.

I will know if it him, Flavius shot back.

As Victorix translated his words, Nantonos spoke again in a sour sounding voice.

He wants to know what you will do with Gisgo. Are you going to kill him? Why is he so important?

Turning his head Flavius glanced up at the sun. It was getting late.

Tell him to shut his mouth and stop asking questions, Flavius said.

Sitting across from Flavius in the grass Nantonos did not need a translation to understand what Flavius had just said. Moodily the Gaul turned his attention to the peaceful, sparkling waters of the Po river.

The sun was low on the horizon and the heat was starting to fade when at last Flavius stirred and muttered to himself.

That’s it, he snapped. Time is up. Gisgo is not coming. I am not waiting any longer.

In the grass Nantonos seemed to have understood Flavius’s meaning for hastily he scrambled to his feet with an alarmed look.

My message was clear, Flavius said glaring at the Gaul. Gisgo was to present himself to me here today. He has failed to do so. He has made his choice. Therefore, his woman and her baby are going to die. I want you to tell him that. I want you to tell Gisgo in person that his woman and her son are dead because of him. Now get the fuck out of here and if I see you again, I will do more than just raid your farm. Got that arsehole?

As Victorix rapidly translated Flavius’s words Nantonos’s face turned pale and he shot a quick look at the kneeling Amia. Spluttering a few words of protest, the Gaul hesitated.

He begs you Flavius. He says he is willing to buy the woman and her baby back from you, Victorix translated. He says that he has silver. Gisgo placed the woman in his care. She was his responsibility. The Numidian prince will not forgive him if she ends up dead.

I don’t care. Get out of my sight, Flavius roared at Nantonos as he drew his gladius, short sword from its sheath that hung from his belt. The woman and her baby are going to die. Gisgo made his choice. He knew the consequences. That was the deal. Now it is going to happen.

A growing look of horror had appeared on Nantonos’s face as he stared at Flavius. Then as Flavius raised his sword in a menacing manner, Nantonos hastily turned around and stumbled away towards his horse and, as he did, Amia’s baby woke up and began to cry.

Do you want me to do it? Victorix said grimly glancing at Flavius as he pulled his hunting knife from his belt.

No, Flavius said shaking his head as he watched Nantonos ride away. I will do it. I am going to take her down into the ditch. Single thrust to the neck. A soldier’s death. She goes first, then the baby. Stay here and keep an eye out for trouble. Make sure that Nantonos does not come back.

Quickly Flavius turned and heaved Amia up onto her feet. The girl was blindfolded, her hands tied behind her back and she could not see what was going on but, as she rose to her feet Flavius saw that she was trembling with fear. The girl had guessed what was about to happen. Gripping her tightly Flavius marched her towards the deep V-shaped ditch that protected the walls of Cremona. As he did, Amia suddenly cried out speaking in the Gallic language.

She asks you to spare her baby, Victorix replied hastily. She begs you to spare her child. The baby is innocent. Her son has done nothing wrong.

But Flavius remained silent as he forced Amia down the steep embankment and into the bottom of the ditch. Behind him he could hear the baby wailing. Roughly Flavius pushed Amia down onto her knees. The girl was trembling uncontrollably and speaking in a language he had not heard before. For a moment, Flavius hesitated as the tip of his Gladius came to rest on her neck. His message to Gisgo had been clear but the Numidian prince had made his choice.

See how little your man cares for you, Flavius snapped, glaring at the kneeling woman. You appear to mean nothing to him. He has left you here to die. That is not very noble.

If Amia had understood what he’d said she gave no indication. Her body had gone rigid with fear and abruptly she went silent as she waited for the fatal blow. Flavius took a deep breath as his sword point hovered over her exposed neck. For a moment he did not move. Then with an annoyed and disappointed look he lifted his sword away from her neck, without touching her, and slid the blade back into its sheath.

Shit, he swore.

His plan had not worked. Gisgo had failed to show up.

Chapter Two – Our New Home

Coming to a halt along the reed-infested southern bank of the Po, Flavius gazed at his plot of land and the house with a proud, happy expression. The newly constructed home stood alone on a rise on the riverbank, overlooking the brown, sluggish and wide river. It was just as he had pictured it when he and Cassia had first marked out the contours eight months earlier. From his vantage point, Flavius could see the sturdy wooden palisade that surrounded and protected the house, the thatched roof and the solitary two storey watchtower that poked up above the wooden walls. The house appeared to resemble a fortified outpost, but it was his home now and he had a feeling that it was going to be a good home. With a satisfied sigh Flavius reached up to rub his chin. It had been a momentous day when he had finally brought his family out of their temporary accommodation in the crowded, filthy and noisy tent city that dominated the heart of Placentia and led them to their new home, which he had built with his own hands. The joy of at last living in a proper house; on their own plot of land; had lifted the whole family’s spirits. It had been for this new home that they had signed up to become Roman colonists and pioneers, making the dangerous and arduous trek north to the frontier and into Cis-Alpine Gaul.

Peering at the house, he could see Caius and Gallus at work on the roof, filling in the last gaps with thick layers of thatch. It was gratifying to see that the two young men got on well, despite not being able to speak the same language, Flavius thought approvingly. It proved that he had been right to ask Victorix and his cousin Gallus to come and live with them. Shifting his attention to the top of the watchtower, he caught sight of Octavia. His eldest daughter was on guard duty, but she had not yet spotted him. Flavius grunted. Although Hannibal and his army had gone south and there had been no further attacks on Placentia, the country around the Roman colony remained unsettled, lawless and dangerous. The Boii were still in revolt against Rome and groups of bandits roamed the countryside at will. It was a dangerous time, hence the palisade he’d built around his new home. Peering at his daughter standing at the top of the watchtower Flavius sighed again. He should really berate Octavia for her lack of attention he thought but, on this occasion, he would let her negligence pass, for he knew that Octavia had other weighty things on her mind.

It was late in the day and in the quiet, peaceful environment Flavius could hear croaking crickets and the splash of a playful river animal out in the water. The isolated house stood on its own with no neighbours and except for his family there was no one else about whilst out on the river, there was no sign of any waterborne traffic. Standing behind him guarding Amia, Victorix and the wetnurse carrying the baby infant, were looking relieved to be finally home. The thirty-mile walk from Cremona had tired everyone out and their travelling clothes were covered in dust and sweat.

Suddenly Flavius heard barking and abruptly two sleek hunting dogs came shooting out of the house bounding across the empty fields towards where he stood. A few moments later, a startled voice cried out followed by the clanging of the alarm bell he’d installed at the top of the watchtower. Octavia seemed finally and belatedly to have noticed their presence. As Victorix came forward to stand at his side Flavius, glanced at the Cenomani hunter.

What are you going to do with Amia and her baby? Victorix asked quietly as he stared at the two hunting dogs racing towards him.

I don’t know, Flavius replied. For now, Amia will stay with us, until I figure out what to do with her.

The woman is your slave, Flavius, Victorix said gently. A healthy young woman like that would fetch a good price on the market. You could sell her. Perhaps you could sell her to me?

No, Flavius said shaking his head. I am not selling her. If Gisgo won’t have her then she stays here with us. She will work to pay her way like the rest of us. Agrippina can always use another pair of hands. I need some time to figure out what to do with her. She could still prove useful.

Useful for what? Victorix frowned. Her man Gisgo never showed up. It’s clear that he does not care for her. She has been abandoned. Your plan did not work. Amia is just going to cause trouble for you. She will try and runaway at the first opportunity and we must always have one person keeping an eye on her. It’s tiring work. There is still a lot of work to be done on the house. We need every available hand. You should sell her to me, Flavius.

And what would you do with her? Flavius replied glancing at his friend.

That is my business, Victorix said quickly turning to look away. But if you sell her to me, I will guarantee you that she won’t be any further trouble.

No, the girl is not for sale, Flavius said stubbornly. Amia won’t run away. The girl won’t leave her baby behind and we will keep the two of them separated at night to reduce the risk.

Abruptly the two hounds were upon them, excitedly bustling and barking as they darted around Victorix’s legs. Calling out to his two dogs, Victorix grinned as he reached down to affectionately pat the animals. Then Flavius caught sight of two figures hastening towards him across the meadow. It was Agrippina his wife accompanied by Octavia and they had their hands raised in greeting. Both were armed with knives hanging from their belts. On the steep sloping roof Caius and Gallus had paused in their work and were gazing in his direction.

You brought her back, Agrippina said in surprise as she gave Flavius a quick hug and then turned to gaze at Amia who was sullenly hanging back, staring down at the ground, her hands still tied behind her back.

The exchange did not happen, Flavius replied, as Octavia came up and quickly kissed her father on the cheek. Gisgo never showed up. Amia is going to stay with us for a while. You had better find some work for her.

There is always work to be done, Agrippina replied as she subjected Amia to a stern, no nonsense look. Hard work is good for the soul.

Flavius nodded as he reached out to affectionately rub his wife’s neck. Agrippina was a formidable woman of forty-two with black hair that was turning grey. A deeply conservative woman she was well educated, better than himself and unafraid to speak her mind or discipline her four children, if they did not show respect and the proper manners. It had been her strict uncompromising adherence to the old conservative ways that had caused the rift between his wife and Julian, his youngest son.

Everything all right? Flavius said glancing at his wife.

Yes, Agrippina nodded still gazing at Amia. The boys have nearly finished the roof and I have been into Placentia to purchase supplies. Do you still want to go ahead with the feast tomorrow?

Ofcourse, Flavius replied, as a grin cracked onto his face. We all deserve a party to celebrate the finishing of the construction of our new home.

The house may be done, dear husband, Agrippina said turning to Flavius and raising her eyebrows, but the dining room still needs a table; all of the rooms need beds and you haven’t even started building your carpenters workshop. I would hardly say that we are finished and, whilst we are on this matter - will you now tell me how you have been able to pay for all of this?

All in good time, Flavius said with a little cryptic smile. But it can wait. Come we are all tired. Let’s go inside and get something to eat. It has been a long day.

As the family began to move across the fields to their home, Flavius suddenly looked around.

Where is Cassia? he blurted out.

Agrippina abruptly looked away and Flavius failed to see the painful, conflicted look that suddenly appeared in his wife’s eyes.

Ah, she is in bed, Agrippina replied breezily. She is not feeling well.

***

It was night and, with dinner over, Flavius had retired to the top of the watchtower with a cup of Gallic wine in his hand. He was alone. Over his head the dark heavens were littered with countless twinkling stars and the moonlight was reflected on the placid waters of the Po. It was a fine, balmy, peaceful night. In the direction of the fortified Roman colony of Placentia, with its five thousand colonists, just over two miles away, he could make out a small cluster of lights but except for that, all around him, the land was bathed in complete darkness. Gazing up at the stars Flavius took a sip from his cup. Strictly speaking he’d had no permission from the authorities in Placentia to move out of the colony and start building his own home, for the security situation remained dangerous and volatile. Velio, one of the three commissioners who formed the colony’s government was unbribable but had however agreed in the end, on the condition that the house would officially act as a military outpost for the colony. That meant a watchtower, a palisade and in emergencies the right of the colony to station a permanent military guard in his house. Flavius grunted as he turned to look at the wooden wall that enclosed his property. The palisade might look good, but he was under no illusions about its ability to hold back a determined attack. But so far, the Boii had given him no trouble. He’d built the watchtower to serve as a lookout, but it had also proved to be a good retreat when he wanted to be on his own.

For a moment Flavius glanced at the rectangular thatched house that was just about visible in the darkness. The home contained a large kitchen, a dining room where the whole family would eat together, a storeroom and seven bedrooms, three larger ones on the ground floor for himself and Agrippina, Victorix and Atia, Agrippina’s aging mother. Four smaller bedrooms were located on the first floor directly under the thatch roof, one shared by Cassia and Octavia, another shared by Caius and Gallus, the third for Amia and the fourth was left empty. In the darkness Flavius suddenly lowered his eyes and quickly took another sip of wine. The fourth empty room would belong to Julian, his youngest son, when the boy returned from the war in Spain.

Gazing thoughtfully and absentmindedly at the thatched roof Flavius felt a sudden pride. It did not matter how large or handsome his home was or how extensive his land – what mattered was that it felt like a home, a proper home. A place where he belonged. As a master carpenter he’d built his house himself with his own tools using wood from his own land and with only Victorix, Gallus and Caius, his eldest son, to help him. They had done it in three months, whilst every day the women had gone out to work in Placentia to earn the money with which to put food on the table. Agrippina had wanted a stone house with red clay roof tiles, but stone and tiles were far too expensive, and she’d had to settle for wood and thatch. Wearily Flavius closed his eyes. Victorix’s wife had died during the harsh winter, partly from a broken heart after losing all her family in Hannibal’s sack of Taurasia. He’d been glad that Victorix and Gallus, Victorix’s sixteen-year-old cousin, had accepted his offer to come and live with him for they had no other family and he could use the help and company.

Rubbing his stubbly cheek Flavius reached out, fumbling for something in his tunic pocket. Agrippina was constantly badgering him, demanding to know how he had managed to afford to buy a new set of carpenter’s tools. The tools had been essential for the construction of their new home and he could not have started work without them. But Agrippina was right to be suspicious. He couldn’t have afforded to buy the tools, not on his income. He simply did not have the money to purchase them. Iron tools were expensive, and he and his family were dirt poor. Even with every member working the family barely had enough income to pay for food and essentials.

Carefully Flavius pulled the small leather pouch from his pocket and silently turned to study it. He’d told no one. He’d told absolutely no one, nor was he going to tell anyone, about how he had managed to finance the construction work. For the truth made him feel ashamed. It was his job as head of the family to solve problems like money. Opening the pouch, he carefully rolled the few precious stones into the palm of his hand. The precious stones had come from Julian, his youngest son. They had been given to him one day in Placentia by a man who’d sought him out, claiming to be the brother of a potter from a Greek colony called Tarraco in Spain; who had been given the stones by a girl called Sicounin, who worked for him, and who he claimed was Julian’s woman. As Flavius gazed down at the tiny stones lying in the palm of his hand he sighed and then closed his eyes and muttered a quick prayer of gratitude to the goddess Fortuna - asking her to watch over his son, like she had watched over him. Julian’s gift had been utterly unexpected, but it had completely transformed the family’s fortunes.

Chapter Three – The Feast

Flavius was kneeling in the large dining room, measuring the size of the dining table that he was going to make a start on that day, when Gallus suddenly burst into the room and quickly beckoned to him.

Come, come, the sixteen-year-old Gallic boy said excitedly, in a thick accent.

With a grunt, Flavius rose to his feet. There was no point in asking Gallus why for