Britannic Hospitality


:::::: Ianuarius 129ad; Tertii Vallentini Villa; Colonia Valentia ::::::


“Tell me again why you’re going to Britannia?” Flavius Iudicius asked his commander as the two sat in a meeting room.

“Not me.” Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus began, “We.” he added motioning with a finger to himself and the legate. “And we’re going so I can get a good sense of what the hell is going on over there.”

“Wonderful.” Flavius stated reluctantly; apparently not thrilled by the idea.

Iovinianus rolled his eyes a bit at his legate for his comments, turning to the side to pick up a map or two of the region of Britannia.

“Why am I to go? I had hoped to be helping prepare things with your cousin, so we could be officially wed.” Flavius asked, speaking of course of Helania Flaviana Vallentina.

“You will have ample time to finish and finalize everything.” Iovinianus looked up for a moment from the maps, “Don’t worry, you’ll come back in one piece. I think if I let something happen to you, Flaviana would have my head.” he commented with a small smile, thinking of the spitfire his cousin and pseudo-sister was.

“Is Kaeso coming?” Flavius asked as he looked to his side to pick up a cup of wine he had been drinking.

“Kaeso will not be joining us…” Iovinianus stated as he squinted his eyes slightly and leaned his face closer to the map in hand to try and get a better look of what he saw.

The comment took Flavius a bit by surprise. Secondus Kaeso Caecilianus had always seemed to have been attached to Iovinianus at his hip for years. Flavius could not remember a time when the tribune, now prefect, was not with Iovinianus by his side. The comment begged Flavius to inquire.

“Why’s that?” he paused. “I had thought he of all people would be joining us.”

“I have given him a few months to be in Marcomagus.” the magister per Occidens stated. “You’ll recall, he and Agrippina Qaestra Juliana are quite an item.”

Flavius raised his head in realization and then slightly nodded in understanding, “Ah yes. I admit I forgot about her, he rarely talks of her so I had assumed nothing happened.”

“Something happened,” Iovinianus replied with a small smile, “and it could not have happened to a better man or woman. Both desire each other and they both care for each other.”

“So I assume they are going to wed.” Flavius said leaning back into his seat, continuing the small talk.

“No actually. She prefers to keep it a non-marriage and he doesn’t mind very much.” he paused. “Of course, if she gets pregnant then she’ll gladly wed.” Iovinianus now finally looked up from the map and handed it over to Flavius adding with a smile, “And from what I hear she isn’t doing much to prevent that from happening.”

Flavius laughed slightly over the situation and the very taboo issue that Kaeso was committing the act of stuprum with her; otherwise known in Roman law as the illicit sexual relationship with a non-married woman, a widow or a boy. It was highly frowned on socially, but the people in Marcomagus for sure, would never think ill of their respected and admired matron.

Looking at the maps now, Flavius listened as his commander now continued on about Britannia.

“What I’d like to do is make contact with the tribes that are in eastern and central Britannia. As of now, Rome has only contact with those in the southwestern.” he paused. “I want to expand that.”

Flavius looked it over and nodded to himself. “So what’s the final count of those going?”

“Myself, you, Cynicus, around thirty of the Wolf Guard, that girl Mucia Honoria Turnus…” he said before being interrupted.

“Who?” Flavius asked confused.

“That equestrian girl whose father was behind the construction of the main forum in the city as well as the two cisterns.” he paused. “I am giving her to King Ferdiad of the Regnenses as a bride, in the name of Imperator Pompeius Septimus Varro as a favor. It took a lot of convincing and deal making but I got her father to agree to it and I have, at least gotten her to become neutral to it all.” he said before waiting to see Flavius had registered it all in his head before finishing off the list, “…and Britannia Arria Varro.”

Iovinianus waited for the response which was almost instantaneous from his lieutenant.

“What!” he exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”

“Indeed I am brother…” Iovinianus said quietly.

Flavius dropped the maps and leaned in close, “Sir, she’s the Imperator’s daughter. If… if anything should happen…”

“Nothing will happen. My ten best guards will be constantly around her and she is only going to be staying at the court of King Ferdiad who is elder cousin.” he paused to explain himself. “She asked to go, and I thought it would further relations with us and the Regnenses if she came along. She also wishes to see where her mother grew up and frankly, she can speak the language better than any of us and I think taking her would be good for her cultural experiences.” he paused before adding, “You’ve seen how she’s taken to being here. Each day is a bit of a new experience. Besides, it allows her to get away from Iunia and Tertia.” Iovinianus said as he shook his head a bit.

“The girls still don’t treat her well?” Flavius asked, knowing the situation with Iovinianus’ two eldest daughters still here; Mariniara Iunia Vallentina and Mariniara Tertia Vallentina, the second eldest Aelia was with Imperator Pompeius Septimus Varro.

“No. Iunia routinely goes out of her way to isolate and or ignore Arria and when they do talk or socialize it’s obviously forced. Tertia of course follows her older sister’s example.” Iovinianus reported with a sigh.

“How’s she taking it?” Flavius asked.

“Surprisingly very well.” he began, “So either it really doesn’t bother her or her upbringing was so good that she doesn’t display any opinion one way or the other.” he took a drink of wine before adding. “I will say this, I can tell she likes my company as well as Mariniara’s. So, I think this trip will be good for her.”

Flavius simply nodded slightly, “If you say so.”


:::::: Martius 129ad; Tertii Vallentini Villa; Colonia Valentia ::::::


Ducissa Augustina Mariniara Amalia was very tired and exhausted. The affairs of governance had always fallen to her since her husband usually either took no interest in or cared much for administrative and political duties. She did not mind very much, she was more able to handle the responsibility and it warmed her heart that he trusted her as much as he did. With him now gone in Britannia she would be alone in commanding and controlling all affairs of the region which was something she greatly enjoyed; afterall, she was a queen.

In an added room to the main atrium of the villa which would be for receiving guests, a wing had been built which to the eye looked more like a court than a ‘receiving room’. In its center lay two large throne chairs, one decorated and carved with the mythical symbol of the Gothic race, a giant wyrm. Other Gothic motifs and symbols were worked into the chair and the backrest of it. Adjacent to it, was a chair of similar make and equal height, except this one was decorated with Roman images and motifs, Aeneas and Mars represented on it and a large wolf at its center. Hanging about the room were many flags, banners and standards. Most were wool and simple in make, but on them illustrated the power and dominance of those who sat in those chairs. Either through treaty, through blood or through outright military subjugation the banners of the Amali Goths, Balthi Goths, Suevi, Irminones and Rugians lined one wall on side which was next to the Gothic styled-chair. Across from these were the vexilla from the northern legions; Legionis I Barbaricorum, XIII Valeria Victrix, XXIII Constantia, XLII Construatrix and the Consular Legio V Gallicana. What one also noticed was the banners of two more legions as well, non-Imperial of course, of Legionis II Ioviniana Lupae Barbaricorum and III Iunia Gothicorum as well as many vexilla from numerous auxilia cohortes. These of course were closest to the chair which was Roman in style and representation. Adorning the floor, a dark blue carpet led to the two large chairs which were elevated above the ground.

In the Gothic style throne sat Mariniara, her handmaiden Gelvira beside her and the room filled in various places by her own personal guard who had once been members of the Equites Singulares many years ago, but who had remained loyal to her following their return to Rome following the ascension of Helvius Tiberius Vitellius.

The day was gloomy and grey and little light broke through the windows of the stone chamber. She found her mind drifting off to other things. It was not that she was bored; it was simply whenever her husband was away and in a potential dangerous place her thoughts often dwelled one him. Thinking honestly to herself, she knew he was a reckless man and there were times she wished he would finally feel his age and know his position and remain out of such perilous situations. She sighed a bit.

Her reverie was broken as Gelvira leant in close to her side as another petitioner was dismissed. The middle aged woman whispered to her in Gothic. “My lady, there is a warrior here to see you. I presume you have no time for such affairs?”

This stirred her interest. “What does he want?”

“He will not say. He is improperly dressed and attired, and actually arrived armed.” Gelvira spoke in shocked terms, surprised herself someone would do so to her mistress’ court.

Mariniara was clearly surprised and her hazel eyes, displaying more green at the moment, flashed with clear interest. “Take his weapons and show him in. I will give him an audience.”

Gelvira nodded and disappeared for a moment. The ten guards in the chamber stood at readiness and the Gothic Queen smiled slightly, though she composed her face to a steely mask as the warrior was shown in.

Flanked by two guards of the local urban cohort, the Goth was shown in. She studied him closely. Though not tall for a Goth, he did not lack for physical presence. He stalked across the chamber like a wild animal, his eyes solely fixed on her beneath his brow. His blond hair was worn short, above his shoulders; his beard was similarly trimmed close to his jaw, revealing a firm, solid jaw line. He had a flax band around his head, indicating his position as a captain and optimus, which was further attested to by the number of arm rings he carried, all fixed along his arms. Arm rings indicated a warrior’s prowess in combat, the more, the greater the fighter. Mariniara had only a few times before seen a warrior with so many rings, he was clearly a warrior of some renown and this made her quite curious to his intentions for coming. He was clad in a simple leather tunic that presumably doubled as his armour, and around his neck hung a small amulet. Seeing all of this though, Mariniara did not change in her stance or facial expression. Regardless of this man’s prowess, he was not nobility of any kind and therefore her inferior. She sat upright, her elbows resting on the armrests as her hands gently held the edge of the armrests.

The guards placed a hand on each of his shoulders and indicated where he was to stop; he shook himself free of their grasp but made no attempt to advance any further on her throne. The guards stepped back, and he did not move, simply staring at Mariniara, who glared back at him, studying him for any indication of why he was there and his purpose.

The warrior simply eyed the woman before him with his blue eyes, looking her over as well, trying to get a feel for the so called ‘Queen of the Goths’. He noticed she wore her jet black, raven hair very short, something no Gothic woman normally would. It was the hairstyle closer to Romans he surmised; intriguing he thought. It was longer than actual Roman men but still, short nonetheless. Crowning her head though was the clear indication of her power, a gold diadem showing to all she was royalty. Her attire, a strange mix of Gothic and Roman style was quite regal looking and seemed to only augment her crown.

The silence continued in the room before finally, a chamberlain spoke up in excellent Gothic, “It is common to kneel to be recognized.”

The blond warrior did not avert his eyes, but now spoke in a fierce voice. “I take it that you are the bitch-queen of the Goths?”

The chamber murmured in shock, and rapid whispers went around. Many were outraged at the terrible insult and several guards, anticipating their mistresses’ orders, went for their swords. The sound of swords unsheathing echoed in the room but they halted halfway through as Mariniara raised her hand to stave them off. She looked at him quite coldly with no fear in her eyes and harshly demanded of him, “What kind of noble are you? You come before me uninvited, unwanted and address me as such! My blood is the blood of the legendary divine hero Turngriones and you will show me the honor and respect I deserve!” she spat at him, quite angry before demanding, “I will have your name before I have your head!”

He smiled impressed at her fiery nature and demanding presence and obliged her, “I am Aereldric, son of Aethoric, from beyond the great sea to the north and I am of Daucidones brood!” he said with fire and pride; indicating he was a Balthi noble.

The chamberlain looked to the guards and with his hands gestured his index finger across his neck giving the signal to kill him. They unsheathed their blades and before they took another step they all looked to the Ducissa who held her hand up again to halt them. As she did this she shot a deathly glare at the chamberlain conveying without words that she held the power of life and death, not him and that he would do well to remember that.

She looked back at the warrior and spoke again in Gothic, “You will tell me why you have come to my court to insult me before I end you life.” she stated, again inferring her complete control of his destiny and his fate at that moment.

Aereldric looked to his sides, apparently unhappy at there were many others milling about; Belgicans, Gauls, Germans other Goths and Romans. All were part of her entourage or who were there to greet her and seek her audience for one reason or another.

Sensing what he had to say was not for other ears she spoke up in Latin to those assembled and ordered, “Leave us.”

The room buzzed with speculation, as the guards ushered everyone else out. There was complete shock and wonderment from many of them as they left until finally it was only Mariniara, Gelvira, the chamberlain and the dozen guards.

Silence hanging in the room she grew annoyed rather quickly and leaned forward in her seat and glaring at him said in Gothic, “Speak Aereldric, son of Aethoric?”

“I come to kill Romans,” he replied simply. “I have always killed Romans. They have destroyed my village, killed my men, and I shall have vengeance. I took my first Roman when I was but a boy, and I have fought all my life. I killed many in the first war, and I killed them further when they treacherously killed the Suevi and Irminones as well as during the fights against my people.” he spoke quite proudly before looking down momentarily in a defeated pose and adding, “But I have many more to take, but now few will fight.”

Mariniara scoffed at this. “Then you have come to the wrong place. I am of both Gothia and Rome here and your kind now kneel before me.”

His voice rose. “The Balthi are gone! Our king is a weakling and a coward! You,” he said pointing to her for emphasis, “are the most powerful Goth remaining. But despite being amongst Romans even you must want some of them or traitors to your domain dead.” he half stated, half asked, “And so I will kill for you since you can let me kill my enemies.”

“You have a lot of courage coming here,” she began, “but why should I need you? What can you offer me that any other cannot?”

The broad grin that split his face did not take his eyes from her. He reached down, and pulled his tunic clean over his head, casting it to one side. Taken by surprise her eyes wandered over his muscled torso; very much a true fighting man she reflected. His whole body was decorated in fine tattoos, spiraling smoke patterns, made up of hundreds of thin lines that whirled across his frame in black ink that from a distance appeared as if his whole skin were lined and creased. It was not apparent from the tattoos if he was scarred at all. She found it hard to believe that a noble like him was unscathed but she was not going to inspect him of it. She found him quite attractive yet at the same time overtly insulting and arrogant. If she wanted to gaze at a muscled torso she would do so with her husband whose frontal scars more than attested for his prowess and made her feel like October. She found herself cracking a small smile as her mind danced with images of her beloved. Snapping back to the here and now she bit her tongue, on the very edge of ordering his death for his attitude and manners. Her face remained unmoved as he began to untie the belt around his trousers.

Her eyes flashing with rage, Mariniara spoke up, “I have no need for you.” and then turned to the two guards who had escorted him in ordering, “End his life.”

The two urban cohort guards drew their weapons behind the half naked Aereldrics’ back, and advanced on him.

The first made an attempt to lunge at his exposed back, but Aereldric was far too fast. His feet shifted his weight rapidly across the guards’ sword arm, so the weapon thrust into thin air. As he did this, he smashed his forearm down onto the back of the guards’ head. With his helmet on, the blow hurt Aereldric, but it also forced the guards head down, where almost in one motion, the Gothic captain brought his knee crashing up into the Romans face, sending him crashing backwards.

Other guards around the chamber were now drawing steel to rush the Goth, who had but seconds now. The second guardsman, an impudent youth, fell on him almost immediately, swinging his sword in an arc to keep the blond warrior back.

Smiling with the joy of battle and rush of adrenaline, the warrior stepped into the blow, catching the sword arm on his left elbow, and then drove his right fist up into the Romans face. Blood sprayed several feet, and there was a sickening crunch as the Romans nose was clearly broken. The guard, in terrible pain, began to spasm on the floor. Aereldric grasped the sword from the twitching hands of the guard and wheeled to point the blade at the throat of the first guard, who lay prostrate on the floor.

“Enough!” Mariniara’s voice rang true and clear, halting the remaining guards and Aereldric. She looked hard at the Balthi, with contempt and respect. It was truly an impressive display; he had moved amazingly quickly, downing two guards in seconds before any other had got within feet of him. His actions had startled her and actually caused her to brandish her own small blade from her wrist into her hands. She twirled it slightly in her left hand as she mused over everything. Perhaps he would be of some use she reluctantly surmised. Taking in a deep breath she spoke now to the warrior, “Very well Aereldric, son of Aethoric. Perhaps I have some use for you afterall.”

The wailing pain from the two guards now becoming too much, she flicked her head upward slightly to the chamberlain who had the two men taken out to get medical care and to silence the chamber.

“Surely you don’t simply want to kill Romans?” she implied, “What do you want in return for me granting you your one pleasure in life?”

Inhaling and exhaling he turned to face her. “I would have Romans to kill.” he stated, “But I would require some money to make me wealthy, though a pittance to you,” he paused, “my Queen.” he said before bowing his head in clear respect.

“I think we can organize that.” she turned to Gelvira beside her and instructed her, “See that is it arranged.”

Clear pleasure ran across his face as he knew he was but on the verge again of being assured to do what he loved.

“Now Aereldric, son of Aethoric, you shall swear your service to me and only me.” she stated with clear authority. “Bring his weapons.” she ordered.

A guard returned momentarily, instead of a sword and shield, he had a hand axe, a short spear and a buckler. He was given these back, and he slung the buckler and spear on straps over his shoulder.

The Ducissa now stood and looked down upon him to carry across his place of inferiority to her. “Now kneel,” she commanded.

He obeyed, and dropped to one knee with his head held low.

“Now swear your service on your weapons and on the memory of your ancestors.” she ordered.

“What would you have me swear on? This,” he asked, hefting the axe, “or this?” he said, drawing a thin dagger that had remained hidden in his boot. He looked up and flashed a smile, indicating again, his usefulness as an assassin for her.

His impudence annoyed her, but she did not let it show. Her face a steely visage, she answered. “The axe will suffice.”

He bowed his head once more and began to intone the oath that all Gothic warriors take to their lord. As he spoke, she slowly approached him. He still spoke the oath as she neared to only a foot away from him. He did not look up as she stepped in front of him, he dare not do so until she instructed him so; during such an oath, to suddenly do so was an insult and was basically throwing out your willingness to be in the person’s service. She reached out her right hand and placed it atop his head now, not afraid in the least bit to touch him. He was fierce, but she was not afraid of death, especially by him. Iuno had spoken to her in her dreams and she knew that when it was her time, Iuno would alert her. She was her suppliant and knew the goddess would never allow her to fall to an arrogant beast like the one before her.

Her fingertips reached and held the top of his head just above the hairline, and gradually, she tilted his head back to bring his eyes into line with her own; all the while the blond warrior running through the war oath.

She stared hard into his eyes, and he into hers as he spoke the words. “…and unto the ending of this world, on the spirits of my ancestors, I enter into your service to perform your will.”

She looked at the man’s face, her man now; her blade to command. Aereldric now smiled as she looked coldly down at him, for he would have Romans to kill once more.


:::::: Meanwhile; Regnenses Royal Court; Bellerium; Britannia ::::::


“It is a pleasure to meet you Iovinianus.” replied King Ferdiad waiting for his translator to convey his comments to the Roman before him.

Iovinianus stood and smiled as he listened to the words, himself, replying in other formalities as well.

Cynicus stood almost beside his dominus as he intently listened to what was said, but he was mainly concerned with political matters and kept an open ear while holding a small case of documents and a small open writing pad and a stylus.

Near him was Mucia Honoria Turnus, who was dressed in elegant attire and who looked quite distant. She knew full well her purpose and hated it, especially her father for agreeing to such an action. Iovinianus had spoken to her at length and while she did not favor him she did not hate him either. Now that she had come, the seventeen year old girl from Etruia was not as frightened as she had been. She had had tales that Britons were fierce and savage looking men and the women could not be told apart from the men, much like Scythians. But appearances spoke louder than words, the court they were at was much better than she had imagined and her husband to be was rather attractive in a feral sort of way. She came out of her reverie as the discussion seemed to pick up.

Flavius stood in the back, holding his captains helmet and dressed in full military regalia the same as Iovinianus. He was more interested in things around him than in the discussion itself. Anything he missed he could hear later. His interest for a time fell on the small figure standing directly beside Iovinianus, though.

Young Britannia Arria Varro stood beside her guardian, looking and listening very attentively. She could speak Breton decently well, having learned from her mother who grew up in this very court she now stood in. While she would listen to the comments of both her elder cousin King Ferdiad and Iovinianus, she would also find herself tilting her head slightly to listen to the small comments made here or there by some of the king’s court attendants. She wore a simple dress, something not to her taste but something she knew she had to endure, and a cloak which covered her head much like everyone else in amongst the group save Flavius and Iovinianus themselves.

“I have been told much of your exploits in these recent years.” Ferdiad said as he sat in his throne chair. “And if the rumors I hear of you are true, then I think we shall get along quite well.” he added with a smile.

Iovinianus nodded slightly in reply to the comment once his translator had explained the words. He now replied himself, “I believe you are aware, your cousin-in-law Pompeius Septimus Varro is Imperator of Rome at this time as well and be assured he sends his greetings and regrets he could not be here himself. I therefore speak on his behalf.”

The words gave the king a shock. He had not heard that the Imperial succession crisis had been resolved completely and the news brought a wry grin to his face.

“I had not heard such news…” he began in still shock, thoughts running through his head of how pleased he was now over the whole situation.

“Well then allow me to be the bearer of such good news then.” Iovinianus said with a smile.

Ferdiad nodded and was visibly pleased. “What do you know of the situation here in Britannia?” he asked, now wondering how well informed the Roman was.

“I concede your highness, I am quite ignorant or what is taking place here. All I have is mere hearsay and rumor nothing concrete.” he told him truthfully.

Ferdiad let a small smile escape his demeanor as he realized that this Roman, along with his cousin-in-law as Imperator, was what he needed to undo the injustice that Proconsul Sarius Lepidus Vitellius had done almost two decades ago.

“Allow me to be frank Iovinianus.” he began trying to be very friendly and buddy-buddy. “Things are very uneasy and terrible in these lands since Rome left them. King Urien and King Caderyn have both been involved in lecherous operations to expand their lands into the once neutral grounds between our tribes. Urien, sitting on the Durotriges throne, is a sorry excuse for a king. He is nothing like his father whom I had respect for. Now, he’s lead around by the nose by King Caderyn with the promise and hopes to marrying his lovely daughter Voirrey.” Ferdiad said as he shook his head in disgust, waiting for the translator finish repeating the comments to Iovinianus.

Iovinianus took in the information and nodded as he listened intently to it. Once the translator stopped the king continued.

“Things used to be much more balanced and equal, that is, until that damned Proconsul of yours came here.” he said as he pounded his fist into his throne chair.

The comment and the sudden action caused Arria to jump slightly and she looked around to see if anyone had noticed; they had not. And so she continued to listen to the conversation and began to form her own thoughts and ideas which she would keep to herself.

“Can you elaborate further on their actions?” Iovinianus asked, quite intrigued.

“Exploitation!” Ferdiad exclaimed as he shook his head in disgust. “Urien has been exploiting the people on fringes of our lands. Word has it he rounded up a few thousand to be slaves. For what purpose I do not know.”

Iovinianus nodded quietly. “Well I promise you I will get to the bottom of this and immediately see to it that things are balanced once again.”

Ferdiad smiled and was pleased at what he heard and added, “Be wary though. Those filthy men,” he said, referring to King Urien and King Caderyn, “will lie at every turn. Let your eyes be your judge.”

Iovinianus gave a wry grin. “I shall do that.” Iovinianus paused and looked to his side motioning to Honoria to come forward. “On another matter, I present to you Mucia Honoria Turnus a girl of excellent birth, the best upbringing and as you can see, very lovely as well.”

The girl merely smiled hesitantly as the king eyed her and judged her. There was complete silence in the chamber as many of the court also looked at the Roman girl and made comments here or there. Arria would tilt her head ever so slightly to listen to the comments, curiosity driving her to eavesdrop.

The king stood slowly with a kind smile and walked to the young girl. He towered over her small five two frame as he stood equal in height to Iovinianus at nearly six feet. He lowered himself slightly and took one of her hands in his own and kissed it; his trimmed beard causing a ticklish feel to her dry, soft skin.

“I am honored.” he said in broken Latin to her.

Honoria blinked a few times and felt very complimented; her eyes darting up and down, from his own eyes to the floor.

“I presume you will be here for the wedding?” Ferdiad asked Iovinianus now back in his native tongue, waiting for the translator to interpret.

“If it is not too far in the future,” he began, “then of course I shall be. And you will have more family there then you think.” he stated placing a hand on Arria’s shoulder, which begged her to look up at Iovinianus and the king. “This is your younger cousin, Arria, daughter of your cousin Milis.” he added.

Ferdiad was quite pleased by this and kneeled before the ten year old with a smile. He then spoke to her in Breton, the native tongue of himself and he knew of her mother. Arria looked at her older relative with innocent eyes and then looked up at Iovinianus then back at the king, a look of confusion on her face.

“She doesn’t speak your tongue I’m afraid.” Iovinianus lied as he looked at the now rising king.

“A shame I think, but perhaps she will learn in time.” Ferdiad replied as he turned and stepped back to his throne inviting Honoria, his bride to be, to his side.

As she hesitatively came over to him, she attracted the attention of all around and Iovinianus looked down and Arria and gave her a small smile and a wink of his eye which made her smile for a second before looking back forward. Before their arrival, Iovinianus had asked her to lie about her knowledge of the language. She did not like lying but after he explained to her it would benefit himself and her father she agreed. She began to think of it as a game; to listen to as much as she could while they were completely unaware. Of course, how much she remembered was another matter she tried to remember what was important; then again, what exactly was the most important she was also not sure. And so each time someone spoke in Breton she found herself making weird gestures as she thought, ‘Is that worth remembering?’

“We shall have the wedding in two weeks. Until then you are more than welcomed to stay here in.” the king said as she held Honoria’s hand and held his gaze fixated onto her.

“Well if you do not mind, I will in the meantime visit some of your neighbors.” he paused to look to Cynicus who whispered the names to him before he continued, “The Trinovantes, Catuvellauni, Atrebates, Iceni and Cantiaci.” Iovinianus said with a smile, turning back to the king.

Ferdiad now turned back to Iovinianus with a frown. “Why do you need to speak with them?”

“Rome wishes to know more about these lands Ferdiad and the Trinovantes have long been trading partners with my wife’s family the Tullii Vitelli and so I thought it would be a wise decision to meet them.” he stated firmly.

Ferdiad simply nodded for a moment and looked down; musing over the comments. He was about to say something when one of his court advisors spoke up in a low tone barely audible and clearly not meant to be translated. Iovinianus shot Arria a look who nodded in reply, before Ferdiad turned back to Iovinianus and displaying a smile stated, “Forgive that interruption. My chief advisor wished to remind me of something regarding some of the tribes. Be careful, often they make a promise to you and then break it first chance they get.” he warned.

Iovinianus simply nodded and answered, “I will keep that in mind.”


:::::: A Few Hours Later ::::::


The conversation went on for a little bit longer until the Romans had been shown to where they would be staying. Several small houses mainly. It took Iovinianus little time to get settled in and of course once alone he questioned Arria to find out what she had heard. Most of it was snide comments from court officials but the important one she remembered, was the advisor telling his king that some of the tribes, which she could not recall which, were highly hostile to Rome because of their actions last time they came and how they changed the balance of power.

“What do you think?” asked Flavius.

“I think we need to find out more.” Iovinianus stated simply as he prepared a travel kit.

As the two simply mused over the comment, Arria came over and placed some of her things in a small traveling sack adjacent to Iovinianus’ and turned to scurry off to get something else before Iovinianus called out to her. “Arria, what’s this?”

She meekly turned and looked at what she had placed down then back at Iovinianus answering in a low voice, “My things sir.”

He half smiled and half frowned, a bit confused of her presumption. “You’re not coming.”

Immediately she came back over and had those sweet, innocent, amber colored doe eyes of hers. “Please sir.” she began. “This is probably my only chance I’ll get to see Britannia I really want to go and… and I could listen to what they say again!” she half pleaded and half insinuated.

Iovinianus looked at Flavius, who simply shook his head no and as he looked back down at Arria she was standing in front of him holding one of his hands and begging, “Please sir?”

He knelt down in front of her and sighed a bit. He had always been a sucker for the doe eyes; his own daughters used it on him often much to the chagrin of Mariniara. Placing a hand on her shoulder and with his other hand he pointed at her and began, “If you come… you have to promise to behave and do everything I tell you to do…” he started, even though he knew she would of course behave, he had to state it more out of routine since he was used to speaking to his own girls who did not behave many times, “…and above all. If you come, you have to promise me that if your father asks where you went you will only say that you saw your cousin. No one else.” he stated as she ever so slightly shook his finger. “You stayed here the whole time, surrounded by half of my guards at all times is that understand?”

She nodded enthusiastically and hugged Iovinianus, “Thank you sir! I promise to be good and not tell father! Thank you!”

“Alright, just remember what I said ok?” he told her as she broke the embrace.

She replied with a quick nod and a smile and then ran off to another room to get something else.

Iovinianus was still kneeling when he suddenly spoke aloud, “Don’t say it. Just don’t say it.”

Flavius was leaning against the wall and shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t say anything.”

Iovinianus now standing looked him squarely in the eyes, “You’re thinking it.”

“So what, now I need to have permission to think?” he asked in a half jesting tone.

“With me, damn straight you do!” Iovinianus tried to say in seriousness but a smile broke across his face nonetheless.

The atmosphere was light as everyone settled in for the night before their trip tomorrow. Iovinianus could help but ponder which tribes were the treats and of course, if he was putting Arria into danger. He would not sleep soundly tonight.


:::::: Two Days Later; Trinovantes Royal Court; Britannia Superior ::::::


“I am so very pleased to meet you Magister.” King Mandubracius stated with a very pleasing smile. “It is an honor to not only meet the ‘Roman Wolf’ as they claim but also to finally entertain a Roman delegation.” he added.

Iovinianus smiled and nodded to the old king who was pushing sixty he surmised. His white hair a clear indication of his age but yet he still carried himself with vigor and assurance. To his flank sat his lovely wife, Queen Verctissa who could not have been passed her mid-twenties; she had an elegant face and haunting eyes. She wore her small crown like a true ruler and though she did not speak and barely moved, Iovinianus could tell that she was the real power behind the throne and that her very gracious and aged husband her pawn. Iovinianus caught her eyes and he knew it to be true, they gave her away. Suddenly his gaze broke from her when her steely expression cracked a very minuet smile, almost wicked in nature, and her eyes seemed to convey him an unspoken message.

Iovinianus looked back at the old king who stood and proudly began to tell him about his love of Rome. Why would he not? Afterall, he had become rich off the trade from Gesoriacum over the many years with the Empire.

“…and that is why I am so pleased you have come to my court.” he finally stated.

Iovinianus nodded replying, “Well I am happy to oblige you good king and if your actions are but half of your words then I can clearly see Rome befriending someone like you and perhaps assisting you in expanding your holdings?”

The old king’s eyes lit up, he was very excited for these guests and before Iovinianus could say a word he ordered that a large feast be thrown in their honor. As Iovinianus attempted to speak he was ignored as the king frantically went to and fro in his court ordering men here and there to set things up. Iovinianus had planned on a short visit but it was immediately apparent they would be spending the night.

“You must stay! You must!” he pleaded now. “And why over dinner you and I shall sit at the head of the table and discuss more businesses as well as this trade company you mentioned.” Mandubracius said as he held one of the magisters’ hands.

“Well, when you put it like that how could I refuse?” he stated with some reluctance at the back of his throat.

“Splendid! My wife shall show you to where you will stay and of course all of your men are welcomed to dine with us as well!” he said as he motioned for his queen to lead us to quarters.

Iovinianus could see a look of astonished horror from Cynicus who seemed to want to nag him on the spot for agreeing to this as it would surely delay their timetable and possibly cause complications. Flavius on the other hand was neutral and was busy staring at all the various fine upholstery in the court chambers, many of it all coming from Roman trade. Verctissa simply stood and turned down a side passage, halting momentarily to catch eyes with Iovinianus so she saw he was indeed in tow before she continued; Arria trailing directly behind Iovinianus.

As the queen pointed out places from the men to sleep as well as a room for Flavius and Cynicus she came to a last room in the large wooden structure and stopped at the doors threshold. She turned to look at Iovinianus with her light green eyes.

“This shall be your room for the night Magister of Rome.” she commented in broken Latin; having apparently learned it from the tribe extensive contact with Roman merchants. “It is large enough for yourself and your small companion here.” she added as she looked down at Arria with a malicious grin, her eyes making Arria inwardly coil from the look.

“I thank you very much your highness.” he stated to her in polite fashion.

“Rumor has it you are married to a queen yourself?” she suddenly asked, standing between Iovinianus and the room. “Is that true? I thought Rome did not have queens?”

“You are both right and wrong milady. My wife is indeed a queen, Queen of all the Goths, but she is still a Roman citizen and no Rome does not have any queens you speak of.” he told her, his eyes questioning her motive for asking.

“So then you know how to handle queens in all aspects I assume?” she asked in a low voice, her face leaning into his.

Iovinianus felt uncomfortable and then replied with his usual wit, “Of course, then again it all depends on the queen. How I handle them depends on the individual.” he stated.

“And how would you handle a British Queen?” she cooed.

Iovinianus leaned in himself and quite quietly answered, “By tossing her into very frigid water.”

The answer obviously caught Verctissa off guard and she gave a slight huff at the remark though part of her found it as a slap in the face another part admired his sarcasm. She simply smiled and walked away stopping only to turn and say, “Someone will be by in a few hours to alert you to the requirement of your presence.” before she turned around and walked gracefully back to the main court.

Arria looked up at Iovinianus and very bluntly stated, “I don’t like her.”

“Yeah… I think she’s trouble too.” Iovinianus said as he watched her disappear around a bend in the hall before looking down at Arria and encouraging her, “come on, let’s get settled in.” once they had stepped into the room he simply said aloud, “You can have the larger bed…” which immediately gave Arria a playful and happy look as she quickly made for the large straw bedding. Her upbringing teaching her not to assume but to wait until she had been told it was ok to do something like that. As she began to take out some of her things she could not help but think how glad she was that she came along; afterall, how many can say they went to Britannia?


:::::: Later that Night; Trinovantes Royal Court; Britannia Superior ::::::


The feast had gone splendidly well for all parties it had appeared. King Mandubracius felt he had made a truly lasting impression on Iovinianus and had further helped his own interests and likewise, Iovinianus felt he had found himself a great potential ally. Albeit, he had reservations about the queen and of her true power in the realm, he was confident she would fall in line as well.

The food and drink poured freely throughout the night and Arria had excused herself, since such company and revelry was not becoming a proper Roman girl; yet she found ways to entertain herself. She was been introduced to the kings’ two daughters who were almost the same age as Arria herself and Arria, knowing Breton moderately well, was able to enjoy herself with them as the Romans, the Gothic guard and men and women of the court gorged themselves on food and drink.

During the night’s festivities Iovinianus was careful not to become inebriated; not because he did not want too, but because he had to be alert with the discussions on hand and he did not want Arria to have to see, let alone deal with a drunken Iovinianus. He was her protection and guardian and to be drunk in a foreign land would not be good in the least bit. Though as a reward for his moderation, he achieved a lot of headway in laying groundwork and some foundation with the trading company he was hoping to establish in Britannia in the future and, while the king was very inebriated himself, he learned that there was a small tomb and shrine belonging supposedly to a Roman ‘King’ as he put it. Iovinianus mused over the matter and after speaking with Cynicus on the subject was sure the king could only be referring to Emperor Otho Justius Vitellius who after abdicating the throne in 50AD, travelled to the island of Britannia to explore it. It was claimed some years later his body was recovered by Roman officials in 54AD, but now he wondered if they indeed had returned the proper body.

With these thoughts lingering in his head, Iovinianus went to his room to crash for the night where Arria was already soundly asleep; two of his Gothic guards standing watch outside her door until he had returned.

While Iovinianus dreamed of random, ridiculous nonsense Arria stirred in her bed, tossing from side to side over the images which danced in her mind.

Her dream showed imagines of a forest with a narrow path running through it. Adjacent to the path was a small, fast running stream and the trees were very heavy and thick and cast a low overhang onto the path, creating a surreal archway almost. Moving down the path was a pack of wolves which were gray and large following their alpha male who had a bluish tint to his coat. He was following a fox which was constantly keeping watch that the wolves were in tow. They were searching for something, smelling slowly along the path and not paying attention to the area around them. In the thick forests of the woods shadows stirred and while a few wolves took notice or felt something odd, the alpha male continued on his search not paying attention to what was around him. Suddenly though the fox darted out from the path and disappeared leaving the wolves alone and lost. Then, without warning the woods came to life as blue hunters emerged from the thick brush and trees and savagely fell upon the wolves, shooting arrows into the mess and sending many down to the ground. The alpha wolf himself looked up at the first sound of the attack and took an arrow deep into his shoulder, crying in pain, then before he could make a move, the wolf looked up and suddenly Arria’ vision became that of the wolf’s and she watched as the savage looking blue hunter drove a spear straight into the wolf’s head, her head and then everything went silent and black; and poor Arria shot up in her bed and with a terrible startle and scream. She clutched her head and her body and looked around in a panic, breathing heavy and sweating from the nightmare.

Her scream had awoken Iovinianus who immediately rose with his blade in his hand. “Arria!? Are you ok? What happened?” he called in the darkness as he approached her.

“I had a dream… a nightmare.” she sniffled slightly, “I’m sorry… I… I didn’t mean to wake you.” she apologized quickly.

“No, no… it’s fine.” he reassured her, placing his blade back down. “You just gave me a startle that’s all.” he paused placing a hand on her shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Yes nodded, “Yes sir. I’ll be ok.”

“Alright.” he began. “Just know that you’re not alone ok? I’m right here. If anything happens I’m right here to protect you.”

She nodded again in the almost pitch darkness. “I know. Thank you sir.”

Arria found it quite hard to go to sleep though; she could help but wonder what was the point of the nightmare and why did she see what she saw.


:::::: Two Days Later; Cantiaci Royal Court; Britannia Superior ::::::


Iovinianus stood in the main royal court of King Caratacus who was speaking to an attractive woman dressed as a warrior. Iovinianus surmised she was a shieldmaiden though he was unsure if she belonged to this court or not. He did not like to be made to wait. As he stood there though, he thought about the trip and it had been, he felt surprisingly successful. He had met with the Regnenses, the Trinovantes, the Iceni and the Atrebates. While he felt that the Iceni were a bit hostile they seemed at least amicable to the idea of working with Rome for mutual benefit.

The king seemed to be in his early forties, close in age to Iovinianus himself and carried himself with much arrogance and self implied importance. Their conversation was quite loud and Iovinianus had given Arria the signal to keep her ears sharp to eavesdrop on whatever she could, though he understood if she picked up only words due to their distance from the two speaking. As they spoke Iovinianus felt quite suspicious and uneasy as every so often the king or the girl would look in his direction, giving away that perhaps he was the topic of discussion. Finally after what seemed an eternity they finished with the girl giving a slight bow as she fell to one knee before turning to leave, a few larger Britons flanking her as she walked out. As she passed Iovinianus she gave him a cold stare, one that was filled with contempt and hate. Her dark blue eyes, augmented by two streaks of blue dye under her left eye, clearly conveying her displeasure for him and his party besides her body language as she walked out. Once she had left Iovinianus was finally allowed to step forward and greet the king.

“King Caratacus of the Cantiaci, I bring greetings from Rome and have come to work towards establishing friendly relations between your people and ours.” Iovinianus said at first, bowing his head slightly for respect.

The translator had finished and yet the king remained silent. There was an eerie calm about the whole room. Finally, a younger looking warrior dressed much the same as the king stepped forward and spoke.

“It is customary to kneel before royalty.” he stated with an arrogant smirk.

Iovinianus was insulted, no other king had asked this of him, since of course he was not coming to them as himself but as a representative of Rome. To ask him to kneel would be the same as asking Rome do so.

“While I would normally agree and I would encourage my entire party to do so, I however cannot.” he paused waiting for the translator to say his words. “If I kneeled, it would be Rome, not me kneeling to you and Rome does not kneel to anyone.” Iovinianus pointed out.

The young warrior shot the magister a death stare and approached Iovinianus, “You will kneel before my father. He is lord and master of these lands and Rome has no authority or power here. Therefore, you kneel to those who do.”

Iovinianus stared the boy down and replying, “Rome’s authority is divine and therefore everywhere boy!”

The young warrior, once he heard the translated words was quite upset and seemed ready to do something, obviously uncaring the power that Iovinianus represented. Suddenly however the king spoke now, ending the confrontation.

“Let it go for now Cacumattus,” he paused “this time.” After the young warrior stepped away from Iovinianus the king simply eyed the Roman for a moment before speaking.

“You come here to speak of establishing good relations with us is it? Perhaps you wish to build such relationships you have done so well with concerning the Regnenses and Durotriges.” he stated with a mocking tone.

Iovinianus, upset, was confused by his comments. “Forgive me your highness but I do not follow. Those relationships established two decades prior have brought great wealth to those tribes.”

“Oh I’m sure they have. King Urien is a fat, rich man because of Rome,” he paused, “at the expense of his neighbors of course.”

Iovinianus did not like his tone, he bite his tongue though and waited for the king to finish.

“The Regnenses were once the dominant force in the west, now they cower behind Urien’s threats to being Rome upon them. Rome has done nothing but destroy the natural order of things and I feel they will do the same again, here in the south and east of these lands.” he insinuated.

“Rome only does such actions when said actions are required. If you wish to be friendly with Rome you are rewarded if you wish to be hostile to her then you go punished.” Iovinianus stated flatly.

His comment drew glares from all in the chamber and contempt. These people were clearly no fans of Rome and Iovinianus was starting to worry about his safety as well as those in his party, Arria especially.

The king eyed him fiercely seeing that Iovinianus would not be intimidated; then suddenly drew a smile. “You are a strong warrior. There shall be peace between our peoples.”

Iovinianus inwardly felt relieved and if he could see behind his back, he would have seen Cynicus visibly display relief and look upward in thanks to the gods. The last thing he wanted was to have a confrontation in a foreign court.

“Please, I think for a true agreement to be reached and of one of good accord you must meet with my comrade and brother in arms, King Praesutagus of the Catuvellauni to the north of us. We two control all the land here in the east and so any agreement I make with you must include him.” the king pointed out.

Iovinianus gave a half smile at the advice of the king, “Well it would so happen I was on my way to see him next. He is the last in a long line of monarchs I wish to meet and speak with, offering Rome’s friendship and her prosperity.”

“Then please, allow my son Eporedorix to be your guide. King Praesutagus is a very cautious and defensive man I think if you showed up by yourself you would be in peril.” he paused, his eyes aflame with evil images, “And what kind of host would I be if I simply let you go as you are to such a possible confrontation. With Eporedorix with you,” he began, motioning to a young warrior near him, “he will know that you speak true and mean him no harm.”

“That is most kind of you your highness.” Iovinianus replied with politeness.

He simply smiled as his young son motioned for the Roman party to follow him.

Cynicus quickly came over to speak to Iovinianus over some matters and reminded him to be careful of not to upset tribal kings; reminding him this was not Rome and that things are more dangerous here than merely his games with words and power. Arria though, unable to talk to Iovinianus and not about to interrupt the conversation he was having simply kept what she had heard to herself; for now.


:::::: Short Time Later; Wooded Trail; Britannia Superior ::::::


The group followed close behind Prince Eporedorix and a translator who were ahead by a few paces as the prince navigated through the woods which were very thick and dark. Arria was very uneasy about the woods, she had never seen such dark and gloomy trees and the path they walked was barely a path at all, they had to travel in single column. She was riding on Iovinianus horse behind him and she could not help but dart her eyes everywhere because of this sound or that. She was a bit surprised at how calm Iovinianus was, or at least appeared to be. The forest did not bother him at all. She looked over her shoulder and with one eyes’ vision obstructed by the hood of her cloak she saw with the other that all of the men in tow seemed at ease as well; well, except Cynicus who seemed to be just as worried and apprehensive much to the amusement of Flavius. She surmised that it had to do with the fact that they were used to such environments. She was not though and it was times like this that she longed for the open rolling graze lands and desert of the south where you could see a man a mile away.

“Not much further.” called out the translator to Iovinianus with a smile, “We are almost out of the deep woods. Things will clear. More room to move. Better seeing.” the translator said in broken Latin.

Iovinianus simply nodded, not happy with their present situation but tolerating it. He did not like staggering out the line; then again he had no idea how to get to where he needed to go and so relied on the good faith of King Caratacus. His eyes and ears were drawn to his right, as he took in the scenery. It was quite lovely, he thought, what with the forest and the tree over hang making a ceiling of leaves and branches. The fast running stream really stuck out though, it was so clear he knew that if it were not for the churning of the water hitting rocks and the like it would seem completely invisible. It was then that he smiled a bit and realized he liked Britannia; reminded him too much of Belgica and Gothia.

As Arria looked about her, she suddenly a sense of déjà vu. She recognized the stream and the trees and the trail before her. She had been staring at the leaved and branched ‘ceiling’ for a while but seeing the stream suddenly brought it all home. Her face contorted a bit as she contemplated the significance of it all and then suddenly it clicked.

In a panic she began to get Iovinianus’ attention by gently, but rapidly, tapping on his shoulder with the added comment of, “Sir? Sir… may I tell you something!”

Feeling her insistent tapping Iovinianus stopped his horse and turned to his side, “What is it Arria?”

Just as these words were said an arrow swiftly struck Iovinianus in the left shoulder and he reeled in pain, crashing to the ground, sending Arria into a fright as she screamed.

Immediately after the arrow struck Iovinianus a wild call went up and the entire entourage was assaulted by warriors wearing blue war dye made from the woad plant.

“Captain!” yelled Flavius as he unsheathed his sword and brought his shield to bear.

Arria looked around frantically as the savage warriors fell upon them from all sides. She did not know what to do and fear gripped her heart. Looking forward she saw that their guides, the prince and the translator, had disappeared, leaving them alone. She next saw a woman coming at them with ferocity in her eyes. Arria quickly recognized the woman as the one from the court of King Caratacus. She was coming directly for Iovinianus and her when suddenly she felt herself pulled off of the horse and backward. She screamed again until she saw it was Iovinianus who held her.

“Stay down Arria! Don’t move an inch!” he told her with force to which she only meekly nodded.

“Cynicus! Watch Arria!” he said this as he brought his shield up to block the blow from the fierce Briton woman.

Cynicus crawled over and grabbed Arria, wrapping his body around her to protect her as they crouched low. “Stay still child.” he told her in as calm a voice as he could. Arria was crying a bit; she could not help herself, but she did remain quiet. In her teary eyes she watched Iovinianus and Flavius with some other Gothic men fight off the half naked, blue painted Britons.

Flavius yelled his own warcry into the face of a Briton as he first deflected then savagely cut down the warrior he fought. Adrenaline ran to peak levels in his body and he turned now toward his captain who was fighting off one warrior and the shieldmaiden at the same time, parrying blows and holding his ground over Cynicus and Arria.

The dark blonde haired shieldmaiden brought her blade down crashing against Iovinianus’ blade and the two forced their weight on the blades. As this struggle continued, Iovinianus saw the other Briton swing his blade from over his head down against him. Letting the woman gain a little ground he threw his weight forward and pushed her back; she stumbled backward as she hit a felled body and took a moment to recover. Iovinianus, using this moment, raised his shield on his left arm and took the blow with force. He winced as the heavy impact sent a shockwave of pain into his arm. Having blocked the attack the Briton raised his blade again to strike and seeing the shieldmaiden just rising from her stumble, Iovinianus used the opportunity to make his strike. He suddenly threw his round shield violently upward into the Briton’s face, yelling as he did so to fight back the pain that shot through his body and to release his aggression. The shield came up with great force under the jaw of the warrior who never expected the shield to be a weapon and so as he reeled backward the pain of his jaw shattering reverberated through his body. Iovinianus now turned back to the shieldmaiden and used his right hand to snap the arrow that was lodged in his left shoulder off while she advanced on him. The clenched his teeth from the pain but tossed the broken shaft to the ground before he re-engaged the young woman.

Flavius at this point came up behind his captain and quickly dispatched the downed Briton as he clutched his face; bleeding profusely from the shattered jaw line. Flavius now advanced on the flank of the British woman who seeing she was outnumbered no longer went on the offensive but went into a defensive posture. Defending herself before she realized most of her warriors had been killed. She let out a deep call to the others and blocking a strike from Flavius turned and darted into the woods; her few remaining warriors doing the same as they disappeared into the forest.

Iovinianus clutched his shoulder as he and Flavius looked around at the scene. The groans of a few men could be heard and one Briton rolled in pain from his wounds until one of the Gothic guardsman bend down to him and violently threw his shield into the man’s head; the traumatic and sudden impact killing him instantly. Almost half of the Gothic guardsmen were on the ground; most dead from their wounds but the few alive were slowly helped up by their companions.

Flavius breathing heavily came up to his captain, “They fucking laid a trap for us!” he paused before spitting on the ground, “Savage scum!”

Iovinianus was quiet for a moment and bend down to Arria who was shacking and still silently crying. Cynicus had been wounded but it was more of a graze wound and he nodded to his dominus that he would be alright.

“Arria?” Iovinianus asked in a concerned voice.

She said nothing, but went from clutching Cynicus to turning and embracing Iovinianus as she cried into his right shoulder.

Iovinianus sighed and simply said, “I’m sorry Arria. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sir? We can’t stay here.” Flavius pointed out as he remained at the ready in case they returned.

“He is right dominus, we must depart post haste.” Cynicus added as he bandaged up his arm.

A Gothic guardsman came over and was going to see to Iovinianus’ wound, which was still lightly bleeding and still visibly had half an arrow sticking in it before he waved him off for a moment to wait; he wanted to wait for Arria to finally let go.

“Right, gather the bodies. We’re not leaving anyone behind.” he slowly rose now to let the guard see to his wound, “Mount up! We’re getting the fuck out of this country.”



Written by: Neos Dionysos and Calidus Raeus Vitellius
With input from: Pompeius Septimus Varro