Si Verax Sum Ch 01

Si Verax Sum

Part I of IV - Bellona

Before I start telling you this story, let me set down a handful of rules to save us both some time, okay, kid? First and foremost, during the entirety of this story, everybody's generally speaking Latin, but I'm translating it to English for your benefit. I'm telling you the story from my memory, which isn't exactly what I would call 'reliable.'

Along with that, if you spot things that feel like anachronisms or things that just don't fit into the time period I'm talking about, do us both a favor and keep them to your fucking self, okay? If you want to be a stickler about how I remember people were dressed or what the streets at the time were like, I'll just not tell you the story at all, because I ain't thrilled about reliving my past exploits for your entertainment, but I guess you do have a right to know at least a little but about the people who came before you. So we'll take this as a test run, okay? You don't give me shit about the fine points, and I'll do you the courtesy of still telling you the overall story.

As our story begins, I was in a leather sack, being transported by the cursus publicus from Luceria to Castrum Novum around the year 25 BC. Don't bother looking for Castrum Novum on any modern map - it's nothing but ruins these days, although Luceria's still around, not that it's at all relevant to the story I'm about to tell you.

Typically, I like to be handed off in person from one bearer to another, but in the old times, exceptions were made every so often, and my previous bearer, Maximus Benedictus, had dispatched me via courier to his nephew, Decimus Benedictus, who was working beneath the harbor master of Castrum Novum. I'd gotten Max where he needed to be in only a couple of jumps, and keep in mind, Max was only my third bearer, so I was still getting a handle on what I could and couldn't do. Also Lucius, who'd given me to Max, hadn't been specific about what he was even being given. So Max had done the best that he could to include a scroll with some basic instructions about what I could and couldn't do for Decimus.

I wonder now and then how much of my path would've changed if I'd have made it to Decimus, who I never got to even meet. It's not like I can go and look up what happened to him. The only information I get is what's around my bearer, so if they don't care, I guess I can't either.

The cursus publicus was the Roman Empire's mail system, and while it was uncommon for a mail wagon to be robbed, it wasn't entirely unheard of either. As long as there have been messages with enclosed valuables, there have been people willing to risk a little to take those valuables for themselves.

So yeah, somewhere along the eastern coast of what's now considered Italy, I was abducted by a gang of bandits. They didn't think of it as an abduction, though. They considered it a robbery. To be fair, I was inside of a leather satchel.

I could hear the voices of the bandits, but it wasn't until several hours after the robbery that I finally got a look at the next person to bear me. As it turned out, his name was Justus, and he was one of a small gang of four men who had taken to highway robbery because they couldn't get work in their chosen profession, but Justus was the newest of the bunch, and he wasn't entirely happy with the sort of bloodthirsty attitude of some of the others.

They were divvying up the loot, mostly just tossing packages blindly to one person or another, but I could sense that only one of these four men was truly worthy of my gifts, so when the guy picking up the bags and distributing them lifted the satchel with me in it, I had him toss me to Justus. It's not a thing I can do much of, but Veritas made it clear she didn't want me falling into unworthy hands if at all possible, so it felt like it was necessary there, and accordingly I gave a little nudge.

The four men split and went their separate ways, and as much as I was trying to get Justus take me out of the bag, it would be about a third of the day before he finally started going through his ill-gotten gains, and naturally, he didn't want to start with my bag.

When the bag was finally opened, I got a look at the area around me, and it was a nice highland sort of area, with a wonderful view of the sea, and there weren't any settlements anywhere close by. I found myself wondering if Justus didn't have a hideout or anything, but I'd come to learn over the next few weeks that he didn't actually have a

home

even, and that his life was something of a fucking mess.

I knew right away I'd got a lot of work ahead of me.

Justus was your typical sort of Roman man in his early 30s, big and strapping, with dark hair and a short beard that was desperately in need of grooming. He had a massive scar on his arm, but didn't look much like a soldier, and I wasn't sure that he'd been robbing that long. He had on a tunic or something, and it looked like he'd mostly just wrapped fabric around his head as some sort of makeshift mask, because there was a long spool of it wrapped around part of the saddle.

He'd been going through his bit of loot, but he'd come across the bag I was in. He took me out and the letter that accompanied me, and he started to read. I wondered if he was going to believe all that was in the letter Max sent, but then he began to laugh, shaking his head, and I'm not too proud to admit I got a little bit worried, because if I'm not touching skin, I can't really communicate.

But, thankfully, he put me on, just for a lark.

And while I don't always like to reach out and talk to my hosts, I knew for this one, I was going to have to take a much more active hand. I mean, it was only my third time out, so I was still getting a handle on how everything worked, and I hadn't really come to the conclusion that the quiet approach was the better one yet.

So when he put the bracelet on, I'd been considering being quiet until he started reaching for me to take me off his wrist again. That meant it was time to get active.

"Oi! Hands off!" I thought at him.

"Ye gods!"

Justus said.

"What the devils is that?"

"Not far off from the gods, but that's me on your wrist."

He looked down to stare at, well, me.

"Is... are you in there?"

"I'm not

in

there," I told him. "I

am

there. That's me. So let's not entertain any more thoughts about taking me off until I tell you that you can, yeah?"

"Are... am I cursed now?"

"That's not a very nice thing to say about a new friend now, is it? I'm here to make your life easier. I mean, you weren't the person I was

supposed

to be going to, but it is what it is and beggars can't be choosers, so we'll just have to make the most of it."

"The letter... it's true?"

Justus asked me.

"You're going to find me a woman? The love of my life? A perfect woman for me?"

"If that's what you're into. If you're into men, I can make that happen as well."

"No no, women it is."

"So what would you say has been holding you back so far, Justus?"

He sighed, giving a little shrug.

"How about everything? I was in the army for a bit, but found that I didn't do well with taking orders without question, so I washed out. Moved to the coast, and became a shipwright at Castrum Novum, building boats for a few years until there was an accident and I nearly lost my left arm."

"Your fault?"

"A little? I mean, yes, but no, not really. Keep your head on a swivel, they always told us, but Augustus didn't double check his bindings, and it wasn't my fault that the bough split, and when the timber came my way, it cut me from here,"

he said, tapping the top of the scar on his left arm, which was nearly at the shoulder, before dragging his finger down almost down to the wrist.

"To here."

"Gods, that must've hurt like hell."

"Spent nearly two months in hospital, and another half a year beyond that getting the control back in my fingers, but the shipyard didn't want to assume responsibility for the accident, and they didn't like the idea of having a shipwright they considered partially lame, so they let me go."

"What? What the hell do you mean they didn't want to assume responsibility? It's not your fault that Augustus didn't do his part of the fucking job."

"I mean, I am in agreement with you, magic talking bracelet, but we don't get to decide these kinds of things, do we?"

"And what got you into thieving?"

"Yes, well, I am not proud of how I have fallen, bracelet... I need something to call you."

"How about Ashur?"

(Yes, I know I told you my name is currently Harvey, but that name's a relatively new choice, okay? I've had half a dozen names over the millennium, when I've chosen to speak at all, something you're making me already regret doing with you. You want me to stop? No? Okay then. So yes, back then I was being called Ashur, so get fucking used to it.)

"Ashur? It's a very common name, isn't it?"

Of course it was. That was why I'd picked it. I wanted something nondescript, in case he accidentally talked out loud to me. "I don't mind if you don't."

"It is your name, Ashur. If it's one you like, who am I to judge you for it?"

"Good, Justus. That's a good start for our relationship. You need to trust me as much as you would your own mother."

"My mother left me at an orphanage when I was only a few weeks old. They were the ones who named me Justus. Who knows what I was originally meant to be called."

"Right. Maybe a bit

more

than you would your own mother, then."

"So all of what your previous bearer, Maximus, said in his letter? That's true? I feel a little bad that I took what was intended for his nephew."

"Except what you don't know, Justus, is that Decimus is one of the foremen of the shipyards at Castrum Novum, so it's entirely possible that he was one of the people who decided not to rehire you once you'd recovered from your injuries, so the hell with him. If he's not looking out for the working man, then he doesn't deserve my gifts. Let's focus on getting started with fixing your life for the better. How's the hunt for a woman going?"

"About as well as the hunt for a home,"

he laughed at me.

"I have no real job, no actual home of my own, so I have been traveling and that led me into this particular desperate act you've caught me in. Not my finest hour, I will admit, but if the gods will not look out for a man, a man must look out for himself. This was my best worst option."

"Not any longer, my friend. We'll start course correcting you one step at a time. When was the last time you shared a bed with a woman?"

He exhaled a sharp whistle.

"Before the accident, certainly, so three, maybe four years?"

"Far too long," I told him. "Is there someplace nearby where we could go and find you a woman, just to get the ball rolling?"

"There's a inn with a tavern attached to it in a town about an hour's ride to the west which I have been to a number of times, or salty looking little tavern down by the shore about half an hour's ride to the east. It looks like there might be a small fishing village attached to it, but from this distance, I can't entirely be certain."

"How familiar are you with both locations?"

"The inn to the west, more than a little, but I've only just noticed this tavern down by the water when I came up here to look through my plunder,"

he told me.

"I'm in a part of the Empire I'm not too familiar with. I was born and grew up in Castrum Novum north of here, and when I was in the army, we spent most of our time fighting against the Parthian Empire in the far southwest, beyond the edge of the Roman Empire. This is much further southerly down the coast than I'm used to being."

"And where were you planning on sleeping tonight, Justus?"

"Wherever the gods allow me to bunk up safely."

"Mmmm. Let me work it out then. Why don't we head to this unknown place down by the waterline? That way if anything goes wrong, we aren't worried about anyone you know getting the wrong impression of you."

"What wrong impression would that be, Ashur?"

"That you're possessed. You don't have to talk out loud for me to hear you thinking."

"Oh,"

he thought at me,

"I can just think like this and you will know?"

"Yes, m'boy, that's how this works."

"Very cool."

(Yes yes, I absolutely know it is completely inappropriate for an ex-Roman soldier to be saying 'very cool' in admiration of something, but I told you this was all being translated and adapted so that it would make more sense to you. One more interruption and I'm going to stop telling you this story. Got it? Good. Now where was I...)

Right. Justus left anything that bore the marks of the cursus publicus up in the hills, and took with him only the shit that he knew was valuable and/or useful, loaded everything up onto his horse and then he, no,

we

headed east down the hills towards the coastline tavern, which did indeed have a fishing village attached to it, as well as a few Roman roads leading in and out of it, making the town a likely way station for travelers on longer journeys, which would suit us just fine.

These days, there's so many people around that it's easy for me to use my gift and for people not to notice, but in the olden times, it was a lot more difficult, and I had to encourage those who bore me to get out and see the world a bit, simply because one of the biggest problems romance seekers have is self-limiting their options.

If, by the age of 25 or so, you haven't found someone who tickles your fancy in your small town or village, the smart individual would think, 'well, maybe I should expand a bit, look around in some other places,' but what inevitably ends up happening, for reasons I

still

can't understand with you people, is that most individuals think 'well, I better start lowering my standards and accepting things I know are only going to piss me off, and learn to live with them.'

So they compromise.

They get married to men and women they'll come to end up hating, and they spend the rest of their lives thinking how unfair it is that life dealt them this hand, when instead they could've just gotten up, walked to the next town over and found the love of their life on the second or third try.

I swear, the depths of stupidity of you fucking humans knows no bottom.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying that it was good that Justus didn't have any such expectations or defining attachments at this point in his life, because I would've had to strip him of those things before I could get started on building something new.

You construct a great house on a shitty foundation, it's not going to matter how well you built it - the fucker's gonna collapse in the end, one way or the other.

Sometimes to create, we must destroy.

I'm sure that little fishing village had a name, but that particular detail is lost in my memory, because it really wasn't important. It had a population of maybe a hundred people, if it was lucky, and it looked like we weren't the only visitors today, as I could see a procession of three large-sized carts resting along the side of the tavern, which looked like it also doubled as an inn, a brothel or, more likely, both.

The tavern was called 'The Storm's Eye.' I remember that because I thought it was an incredibly fitting name for a bar, and I've not seen one with the name since, much to my amazement. We could hear the sound of drunken revelry coming from inside. We had arrived near sundown, so torchlight was providing all our vision, much of the village already having headed to bed for the night, but all of them heavy enough sleepers that the chaos at the tavern wouldn't wake them. Several of them, however, had opted

not

to go to bed at their usual time tonight, and were instead partaking of the show being put on at the tavern.

When we walked inside, I clocked right away what the carts outside were for - this was a performing troupe that had just happened to find itself near the tavern, and they were trading a show for supplies and a hot meal.

You have to understand, performers have always had a rather capricious life, and while, from time to time, there have been those lucky enough to stay in one place or play to the same audience, most of them are always struggling to make sure they have enough coin to keep their bellies from being completely empty. So while it's true, there were theaters with actors who never left their towns, places where patrons would come from miles away to see them, it was far more common for performers to be vagabonds, roaming storytellers and musicians who would travel from village to village, give show to a handful of people then pack it all up and wander away to do it somewhere else within a few days' time.

In short, it was a perfect start for what I needed for Justus.

The structure of the tavern itself was nothing special, a reliable stone building with three stories, the top two of which were lodger rooms for either travelers, whores or both. As we were riding up to it, I could sense how hungry Justus was, and knew we needed to get him some food, although it would wait until morning, after his

other

hunger was sated first.

The sound of lute music was coming from inside of the tavern, along with a truly lovely woman's voice, although it was difficult to make out the words over the sounds of people cheering and banging their mugs atop the wooden tables in encouragement.

Justus hitched up his horse outside of the tavern, then headed inside, keeping most of his things with him in the satchel he had slung over one shoulder, not feeling comfortable to leave them in the saddlebags on his horse.

Inside the tavern was blisteringly hot, and the minute we set foot inside of it, I almost wondered if I'd made the wrong choice, and if there were too many people there for me to safely work my skills, but one quick glance told me that with the average level of inebriation inside of the tavern, anything at all strange or unusual would simply be written off as 'the drink talking.'

There were about twenty fishermen from the village proper who had decided to come and see the show, and a wicker basket up front bore a sign that said 'for the performers,' but, y'know, in Latin and shit. It looked like they'd been doing rather well for themselves, and the fact that there was a good show on had seemed to convince some other travelers who might have been planning on just stopping for supper and then riding on until late in the evening to instead take their time and to spend a night at the inn, although no doubt some of the women in the service of the tavern were helping to sell that just a little bit more also.

Whatever doubts I'd had about the 'The Storm's Eye' also being a brothel in addition to being a tavern immediately melted away, as there were a number of rather good looking women sitting on the laps of men whom I don't think had ever been described as good-looking.

Now, before you get up on your high horse about it, let me stress that this was the way it was back then. It turned out the women in 'The Storm's Eye' were freewomen, but they were also former slaves, and as such, finding a way to make a living was rather difficult, so using their bodies to earn coin was far from the worst path they could choose. Many brothels back then simply employed slaves instead, and the women at those had much less freedom about which patrons they would and wouldn't take on. Here, at least the women could turn away the truly inebriated and violent.