3.

Later that night, in their tent, only seven men sat around the fire. Luis fell in the battle. Their attitudes were somber and reflective over the loss of the man, but at the same time rejoicing over the victory. They learned Luis’ position, on the far right end of the line, became critical when the barbarians attacked. He and a few others literally turned the flank of the barbarians and were in a large part responsible for the success of the day. Luis would be buried with the highest military honors.

Leopold asked, “Cornelius, what possessed you to make the charge?”

“I just knew it must be done and you would follow me.”

“But, Cornelius, you did not know the three centuries would follow us.”

“No, I only prayed they would.”

Sergio frowned, “Cornelius, this is the same old question, but to whom were you praying?” He asked, “Did you pray to Mars, Zeus, or just who?”

“Sergio, I only know I prayed. Despite how you feel about gods or god, I know the gods were looking down on us with favor today. We could not have routed the barbarians if not. What do you think?”

“Cornelius, I do not know what to think. I know a miracle surely occurred today. Can you believe two hundred and forty soldiers and five hundred horsemen turned the tide of the battle? Oh, the Roman Army probably would have won the battle anyway, with the loss of hundreds more men. If the hordes of barbarians had overrun the flank and killed the senator and his men, the general would have committed the third line. That tactic would have trapped the barbarians between the two lines. It would not have been pretty, but the army would have won. As it is, the losses were fewer.”

“That is what I am talking about, Sergio. We witnessed a miracle and miracles do not happen unless there is a god involved. I say the gods were watching out for us, the little people and the soldiers.”

Antonio asked, “Cornelius, do you really think there is a god watching out for the little people, slaves and soldiers?”

“I certainly do. I have not seen him or met him, but he is out there.”

Giovanni inquired, “If there is only one god, what happened to the rest of the gods?”

Cornelius only shrugged his shoulders, “I do not know, Antonio.”

Just then, the trumpet sounded. All conversation in the camp ceased and the men stretched out on their beds were soon asleep.

The next day, at the sound of the second trumpet, Cornelius received orders to report to the legate’s tent. He cleaned and polished his armor and then donned it. His six companions and one new tent mate helped. They stood by silently and watched him leave.

He stopped at the tent flap. He muttered, “Well, I guess this is it. Yesterday a hero and today - - well, I will see you.”

With that he stepped out of the tent. To his surprise, Captain Pietro and an escort on horses awaited him just outside his humble quarters.

“Cornelius, mount the extra horse. We are your honor guard and escort.”

Cornelius stood dumbfounded. “Captain, did you say honor guard?”

“Yes, Cornelius seems you are something of a celebrity. We have orders to escort you to the commander. Now, mount up.”

Cornelius mounted the horse and as they rode through the camp a cheer went up from every man.

Then the chant began, “ITALIA BAND, ITALIA BAND, ITALIA BAND!”

Over and over the chant reverberated through the camp.

At the commander’s tent Cornelius dismounted and stood waiting for his captain to join him.

Captain Pietro sat his horse, smiling, “You will have to face this alone, Cornelius. Report to the commander, soldier.”

Cornelius turned to enter the tent. The guards, at the entrance, snapped to attention and saluted Roman style, right clenched fist placed over the heart. Cornelius returned the salute and stepped into the tent.

To see Legate Matteo, Senator Tiberius and one man he did not know, at the commander’s table shocked him. He came to attention and saluted. His salute was summarily returned and he continued to stand at attention.

“At ease, soldier and take off your helmet.”

“Yes, Commander,” He stood at ease and removed his helmet, which he held under his arm. He wore no weapon, only stood as a soldier in front of his commanders.

“Cornelius, I believe you have met the Senator?”

“Yes, Commander,” He said with a nod toward the senator. They exchanged glances.

“This officer,” the commander indicated the third man. “This is General Alessando. He is the general of the four camps and I believe you know each other.”

Cornelius said, “Yes, Commander.” He bowed slightly and said, “General.”

Senior Commander Matteo rose from his chair and began to pace the floor. “Cornelius. I see you had quite a day yesterday, did you not?”

“Yes, Commander,” Cornelius agreed.

“And I heard the camp as you rode up, gave you quite a greeting, or is that just more turmoil you raised.”

“Yes, Commander,” Cornelius agreed again. “It is as you say.”

“Well, Cornelius, the question now? What do we do with you? Here you are a foot soldier in the infantry and the hero of the camp. I cannot leave you a foot soldier and I cannot make you an officer. Just what am I going to do with you?”

When he stopped talking, he stood in front of Cornelius.

“I do not know, Commander.”

The commander glared at Cornelius. “That was undoubtedly the stupidest thing I have seen in my years in the army and certainly the bravest. One man starts a charge and hundreds follow him. Can you tell me why?”

“Yes, I can, Commander.”

“Then out with it.”

“We were placed on the far right wing in the third line. We were told we were not seasoned. We were put out of the way, like children. The men were mad, hurt and thirsting for a fight. When the opportunity, like yesterday, afforded itself, they proved themselves.”

The commander stood and blinked, “They were mad and?”

“Yes, Commander, they were insulted and mad.”

“Well, I never,” the commander muttered.

The Senator interrupted him. “Commander,” Tiberius spoke. “I believe I have a solution to your problem as what to do with Cornelius.”

“What is that, Senator?”

“I just had a thought. I will speak in front of Cornelius. Especially since he and his friends probably saved my life.”

“What do you have in mind, Senator?” asked General Alessando.

“I would like to reward Cornelius, so, let me ask him if he has anything I can do for him. Cornelius, is there anything?”

Cornelius stood and studied the Senator. He made no comment. After a few moments he said, “No, Senator, I do not know of anything.”

“Would you like a villa or servants?”

“No, Senator, the army is my life.”

“Good, Cornelius. Good! Just the answer I wanted to hear. Now, this is what I have in mind. If the army will let me take you back to Roma, I will enter you in the centurion school. Would you like that?”

Cornelius for one time in his life showed pure pleasure and excitement. “That, Sir, would be far beyond my wildest dream. Are you serious?”

“Yes, I will sponsor you in the centurion school.” The Senator saw Cornelius’ face fall. “What is wrong, Cornelius?”

“I can not accept the offer,” Cornelius said as he stared straight ahead.

General Alessando came to his feet shouting, “How dare you insult the Senator! Why not accept his offer?”

Cornelius stood his ground and did not blink at the general’s outburst. The general stood with his nose almost against Cornelius’, “This is the opportunity of your life. What do you mean? You can not accept the offer?”

He shouted at Cornelius, “Now, the charge was dumb, now, you are acting like a green peasant. Why?”

“It is my six comrades, Sir. I could not leave them. They did as much to save the Senator as I. Without them, I would be a corpse on the battlefield.”

The two officers and the senator paused, glanced at each other and thought about Cornelius’ declaration. They felt the tension in the room evaporate.

The senator spoke, “Then, General, can I not have the seven? If the other six are like this man, they would make good officers and good centurions.”

Senior Commander Matteo clapped his hands, “An excellent idea, they are excellent officer material. We need good officers like these who will take the initiative. I, for one, am in favor of that. What do you think, General?”

“They are your men. If you want to give them up, it is fine with me.”

The senator stood and walked over to Cornelius, “Then it is settled. My caravan leaves in two days. I am sure Commander Matteo can find seven good horses, and you will come to Roma with me. I will sponsor each of you in the centurion school.”

He and Cornelius exchanged the Roman handshake, by gripping each other by the forearm. Senator Tiberius realized Cornelius and his companions would be lifelong subjects and friends.

He thought, “If I ever should become Emperor, I will need men like these.”

“Cornelius, would you like to tell your friends of their future?”

Cornelius hesitated. “Perhaps that order should come from our captain, not from me.”

Senior Commander Matteo chuckled. “Good officer material. Tell the others through channels and do it the military way. Very good, Cornelius, I think the seven of you going to centurion school is an excellent idea. I will attend to the details and the orders.”

“Thank you, Commander, and thank you, Senator,” Cornelius said.

“My pleasure, Cornelius,” the commander said. “When you receive your orders, come see me at my tent.”

“Yes, Senator,” Cornelius replied.

General Alessando came around the table. “Make us proud of you at the school.” He gave Cornelius the Roman handshake. “Good traveling.”

“Dismissed,” Senior Commander Matteo said.

Cornelius put on his helmet and came to attention. He saluted and walked out of the tent.

His body now numb with elation, moved automatically. His world turned upside down in the past few hours. His destiny and future took a new direction.

He said, to himself, “This must be by some higher power. Maybe there is a god for me after all. I wonder which one?”

Later in the day an orderly summoned the seven to Captain Pietro’s tent. He waited outside his command tent. They came to attention and saluted. He returned the salute.

“I have new orders for the seven of you. The orders are as follows.”

“One, you are to turn in your ax, shovel, leather thongs, javelins and hooks to the weapons officer. You will only carry shield, sword and dagger.”

“Two, you will ensure your armor is in excellent condition. Replace any dented or damaged part.”

“Three, you will report to the officer in charge of the horses. You will be issued a suitable mount. I might add, make them give you a good mount.”

“Four, you are to draw your Denariis for the time you have been in the army. We will say that should be pay for about a year. You will receive about one hundred and twelve Denariis, less cost of food and armor.”

“Fifth, you will, when you have completed the above items, report to Senator Tiberius. You have been assigned to his century for the march back to Roma.”

“Sixth and last, when you reach Roma, you will report to the Centurion School by the orders of Legate Matteo, General of the Army Alessando and Senator Tiberius.”

Slowly the orders sank in on the six. Cornelius smiled at his six comrades. They broke rank and beat him on the back. They bombarded him with questions.

“You knew about this?”

“You were given this as a reward?”

“You let us go the night without telling us?”

“Where would you like your body buried?”

The captain called them back to order, “Soldiers, fall in! Attention!”

They formed a new line, but continued to grin from ear to ear.

“Now, soldiers, the next time I see you, you must be centurions, not just soldiers, and the best centurions in the army.” He lowered his voice. “And certainly not slaves.” He smiled and gave each the Roman handshake and returned their salutes.

“Now, fall in!” They reformed in a line.

“Good traveling, soldiers, and see to your orders. You have a lot to do before you report to the Senator. Oh, by the way, if you are not the best centurions in the army, you will have me to deal with.

Captain Pietro stood looking at the seven. His mind raced remembering everything they accomplished in the army. His heart swelled against his armor thinking of their bravery and their shared comradeship.

He came to attention and ordered, “Dismissed!”

Early the next day, Cornelius and his friends reported to Senator Tiberius’ quarters. They were assigned to a century. A bit later in the day Cornelius received orders to report again to the Senator.

Upon arriving at the Senator’s tent, the guard asked him to wait. When the guard ushered him into the Senator’s tent he was surprised to find Legate Matteo present. Cornelius came to attention, saluted, and remained at attention.

Commander Matteo said, “Stand at ease.”

“Cornelius, we have been going over your and your friend‘s records. You have only been in the army one year?” asked the senator.

“That is correct, Senator.”

“We would like to know where the seven of you learned to use the sword and shield with such skill. Could you tell us?”

“It is a personal matter, Senator.”

“Oh,” the senator shifted his weight in his chair. “Personal?”

“Yes, Senator,” Cornelius admitted.

“If we take an oath of secrecy, would you tell us, Cornelius?”

Cornelius stood a long time, pondering this dilemma. He promised Captain Pietro to never divulge their past.

“If you take the oath, it is an oath for life,” Cornelius said.

Both men rose, placed their hands on the seal of the Roman Army and said, “By this seal, we swear an oath of secrecy.”

Cornelius did not know if the oath was binding, but they swore an oath and declared their secrecy.

Finally, he spoke. “I will tell you about my experience. I was abducted at the age of fourteen from Valley of Po. At the same time my two younger brothers were abducted. Another brother was killed. A pirate ship took me to Zadar. I was sold into slavery and worked on an estate until eighteen. I displeased my Mistress, and she sold me. The buyer put me in a gladiatorial school. That is where I learned the use of weapons.”

The senator and the commanders sat staring off into space, after exchanging glances. They were lost in thought, or so it seemed.

Just when Cornelius thought the matter forgotten or other matters occupied the mind of the senator, he asked, “How did you escape gladiatorial school?”

With hesitation and with candor, Cornelius answered, “I was sold to go to the arena in Roma. On the road, I had a chance to escape and I came to the gates of the camp and joined.” He spoke briefly, told the truth, but left many details in the dark and unsaid.

The senator cut his eyes at the commander. “I am satisfied with his story.”

The senator asked, “How about you, Commander?”

The commander only nodded, but then he said, “I have one question, Cornelius.”

“Yes sir.”

The commander asked, “Your friends? Did they have similar experiences?”

“Yes sir.” Cornelius spoke softly and waited, for what he expected to be the end of their new career. He expected the worse.

Without saying another word, the commander stood, and Cornelius came to attention. They saluted and the commander muttered, “I am satisfied. You stay until the Senator dismisses you. Good safe travel to you, Senator.”

He went out of the tent and they heard him calling for his horse and escort.

“Cornelius, one more question before you go.”

“Yes, Senator,” Cornelius stood at attention.

“Are you sure there is not something outside of the army I can do for you?”

Cornelius thought for sometime.

The senator added, “I see, you are thinking about something. Come out with it. Let me do one thing for you to show my appreciation.”

“Senator, I have not seen my family since I was abducted six years ago. I would like to see the clan.”

Senator Tiberius motioned Cornelius to a table to one side, where he showed him a map. “Where do you think your home is located?”

“We lived in the Valley of Po,” answered Cornelius.

“Where is the Valley of Po?” The commander asked.

“We lived near the sea, Senator. The men would float goods down to the sea and it took only two or three days. We crossed the Agno River, just before we reached Milano, marching north.”

Senator Tiberius ran his finger along the map. “Here is the Valley of Po. You think you were north of the Po?”

“I am not sure. All I know is my Father said, ‘We are located on the north side of the Valley of Po’.”

“Then your home would be in this area.” He said, pointing at an area north of the river and near the coast. “What is the name of the nearest village?”

“Este. Another is Lonigo. Oh, I remember, we were on the Agno River.”

“Well, here is the Agno River. A few days of drifting down the river, is not very far. You would have had to be along in here. What do you have in mind?”

“Maybe, this is a lot to ask, but when we clear the mountains moving south, perhaps I could ride east and find them. On horses I can cover lots of ground, and rejoin you at Rimini.”

“I think that can be arranged. For the time, do not say anything about your wishes. When we arrive in Milano, we will rest the caravan for several days. I will send you on a special mission to the east. You can ride to your clan, visit a few days and then ride south. How would that be?”

“That is very noble of you, Senator, to allow a stranger in the army the privilege of searching for his family.”

“It is not noble. I am just trying to show my appreciation for your courage in saving my life. My guards tell me in seconds we would have been dead, if you had not led that wild charge at the proper time. Now, go and find your family, with my blessings and thank you.”

“Yes, Senator,” Cornelius saluted and as he left he said, “I thank you.”

At dawn the next day, the senator’s entourage and one cohort of cavalry rode south. Cornelius and his six friends were attached to one of the centuries.

The army took two months to cross the mountains, when they marched north. The senator and his caravan crossed the same mountains in thirty days. Of course with no snow and not stopping to build roads and bridges, they made excellent time. The Senator, a good horseman, set the pace. The biggest problem fell to the baggage train. They were pressed by the pace of the cavalry and to erect the camp each night.

One day short of a month, the senator led his entourage and troops to the walls of Milano. They pitched camp outside the city, and the senator prepared to spend some time there on diplomatic matters.

He stated to his servants and personal guards, “I have been away from Roma too long. I must return, but I must spend some time here.”

The night after the arrival of the caravan to Milano, the senator and Cornelius stood beside a table studying a map.

“Cornelius, if this map is correct and if I have figured the distance correctly. You are about forty leagues from your home area. On horse back, you should cover that distance in about a week. You could have a few days at your clan’s compound. It is about the same distance from your home area to Rimini. That is another week of riding. I will give you fourteen days to be in Rimini. If you are not there on the fifteenth day, we ride on south without you. You will have to catch up on your own.”

“Thank you, Senator.”

“Now, what equipment and personnel do you need to make the journey?”

“Only my six friends and our horses,” Cornelius replied.

The senator asked, “Only your friends?” He looked very puzzled, “No, tents or cooks or anything?”

“No, Senator. We will ride during the day, eat wheat grain, drink water and sleep in our cloaks. We will make better time, besides we will live the life of a Roman soldier.”

“I will write the orders. You may draw grain and wheat rations and depart tomorrow. May the gods smile on you on your journey home.”

“The gods have seen fit to favor us, Senator. May the gods also smile on you and your house.”

Long before sunrise the seven young soldiers, of the Roman Army, galloped out of the senator’s camp and rode to the east in search of Vito’s clan and compound. They trusted the gods were indeed watching over them. They rode as due east as they could and found themselves, five days later, in the village of Lonigo, on the Agno River. A few hours later they rode into view of the compound.

Cornelius reined his horse to a stop. “What is wrong, Cornelius?” He asked.

“That is my home. That is the compound of my clan.”

It would be a bittersweet meeting. He would have to face his parents, grandparents and the whole clan. His disobedience would be out in the open for everyone to see.

“Will you camp over yonder under those trees, at least for now? I would like to ride in by myself. Later, I will come for you.” He handed his weapons to Sergio.

The six nodded in understanding. They sat on their horses and watched Cornelius ride across the river and along its banks toward the compound.

A horn sounded warning, long before he reached the walls, the main gates swung shut and men appeared on the walls, armed and ready to do battle. Even though he rode alone, they saw a Roman soldier in uniform.

When he reached the great double wooden gates he hailed the compound, “Hail to the occupants of the compound. I beg to have an audience with the head of your clan.”

A gray headed man leaned over the wall and asked, “Who desires an audience with the head of the clan?”

“A stranger,” Cornelius answered. “I am a wanderer looking for the clan of Vito, Vito the Great.”

“This is his compound. What business do you have with him?”

“I have news of his grandsons.” That statement brought about a clamor inside the walls. Many voices were heard. Then the wooden gates of the guarded entrance opened wide enough for some men to slip out and stand in front of Cornelius.

Cornelius recognized his uncles and his father. They did not recognize him, six years older and in an army uniform.

His Uncle Carlos stepped forward. “I speak for Vito. I am his oldest.”

“Yes, Carlos, you are the oldest and this is Felix, and Pietro, and Aldofo and this is Santo.” He pointed them out, as he called their names.

They stood stunned. “How do you know our names? Are you a sorcerer?”

Cornelius sat on his horse for a long time. The air became charged with an eerie silence.

Pulling his helmet off, he said, “I am not a sorcerer, nor am I really a stranger. I am Cornelius, son of Santo and grandson of Vito.”

Suddenly shouting and yelling consumed the audience. Some of the men drew their swords, while others brandished their war clubs. Some retreated into the compound, but Santo stood staring at his son with a quizzical look.

“Is it you, Cornelius? Is it really you?”

“Yes, Father.”

Santo pulled Cornelius from his horse and they embraced. They wept and hugged each other. A new flurry at the gate signaled another loved one. Cornelius’ mother burst through the crowd.

Her face turned white with recognition.

She screamed, “Cornelius! Cornelius!”

She fell around his neck, and the three of them, Cornelius, his father and mother, cried and cried. They kissed and hugged and cried some more.

The crowd grew silent and an aisle opened. An old man, dim of eye, but straight of back, came limping slowly through the multitude of clansman. Only the slight limp and the dim eyes told his age. An old woman escorted him. She began to cry.

He came very close, he squinted and then he shouted with the voice the entire clan knew.

“This is Cornelius, my grandson! He is returned! Open the gates! Call the clansmen!”

The gates swung open and the entire clan began to shout with joy. There were older members of the family who reached out to touch or hug him. Younger members, who were too young to remember him or his abduction, stood in awe. There were thousands of questions. He could not answer them all. His grandfather came to his rescue.

“I, Vito, speak. It is some time until the evening meal. We will let Cornelius spend that time with his family. Meanwhile, we will kill a calf and prepare a feast to welcome Cornelius home. I, Vito, have spoken.”

The old Vito, at least for awhile, returned to them. For the first time in months Vito showed great vitality. Vito fell into a deep depression with the vanishing of Cornelius and his two younger brothers, but now his face beamed with joy.

Cornelius told his story twice, once to the family privately and later to the clan. With the family, there were more tears when he repeated the part about Alfieri and Michael. When he inquired about Giueseppe, a commotion occurred at the rear of the crowd. Giueseppe came into view.

“I did not know if you would want to see me. I let the merchants steal you,” Giueseppe said.

They fell into each other’s arms and began to weep. Two giants, Giueseppe, three cubits and almost two spans, and Cornelius, only slightly shorter wept like children. Their parents encircled them in their arms and they stood crying tears of anguish and joy.

When the tears stopped, Cornelius found the clan had no word of his younger brothers. The clan searched the coast for days. In addition to the clan’s efforts, the neighboring villages looked for the two younger boys and Cornelius. They just vanished.

Cornelius turned to stare at two young girls. “This must be Geneva and Claudia, and who is this hiding behind her mother’s skirts? This must be Maria. One by one he scooped them up and held them in his arms. Geneva remembered Cornelius but not as a huge man. They were a bit frightened of him and his uniform. Questions about the uniform gave him a chance to continue telling his story.

“I was captured, as I said, then taken to a town called Zadar. The pirates sold me into slavery. I worked in fields, cut wood and a dozen other things before my mistress sold me into a gladiatorial school. At eighteen, I escaped and joined the army. I have been in the army almost two years.”

Cornelius left a lot of the story untold, but he felt he said enough. He did add, “I have six good friends riding with me. They are camped up the stream a short distance.”

Santo jumped to his feet, “I will fetch them, and they can join in the feast.” He ran down the stairs shouting for a horse.

That night the clan feasted and drank toasts to Cornelius and his six soldier friends. At the end of the meal Vito stood. The old Vito was back with them, at least for one night.

“This is my grandson. I drink a toast to him. I drink a toast to his friends.”

The clan cheered.

Then Vito said, “My grandson, tell us all that has happened.”

Cornelius stood and repeated the same story he told his family. He told the truth, but he left out a lot of details.

Then, without fanfare, Leopold leaped to his feet and shouted, “Clansmen of Vito, this man is modest. He has not told you one particle of the things he has done in the past six years. He has - -.”

Cornelius interrupted. “This man is the biggest liar in the Roman Army. Do not believe a word he says.”

The curiosity of the clan now roused, they demanded more information. Questions came from every corner. The six took turns standing and telling the most outrageous lies. Soon, Cornelius stood four cubits tall. His friends credited him for slaying the entire barbarian army by himself.

When the stories became too outrageous, Cornelius stood. “Most of what they say is true.” The clan roared with laughter.

The clan knew he lied, but they loved a good story. “I have slain thousands and ridden horses of fire.” The clan cheered and clapped their hands. They loved a tall tale better than anything else in the world. The evening passed as the stories were told.

There were several bittersweet moments during the visit. One bittersweet moment occurred when his Uncle Felix came and put his arms around his shoulders.

“Cornelius, I am proud of you. I served and am so very proud of you. You bring honor to this clan. Many may not understand this honor, but you and me, we know. From what your friends say, you are making a good soldier. I know your father is proud of you. May the gods ride with you.”

Another bittersweet moment occurred when Cornelius and Giueseppe were alone.

“Cornelius, my heart broke when I found you and our little brothers were gone.”

“Ah, my brother, don’t let the past trouble you. I am really the one who is guilty. My actions caused the pirates to steal our brothers, not you.”

The two giant men folded the other into their arms and again wept. Their bond as boys was rekindled and they found some peace in their hearts.

“We will one day find our brothers,” Cornelius declared.

“If the gods so desire,” Giueseppe responded.

With that moment, Cornelius felt there had to be gods and they were certainly watching over him, his six friends and the clan.

For three days Cornelius moved from dwelling to dwelling becoming reacquainted with his family. The clan feasted and listened to the stories told by Cornelius’ soldier friends. His six friends told the old men wild stories and the young ones funny stories. Each night the clan butchered another calf or someone shot a deer for fresh venison. The clan sat and listened to the tales Cornelius’ friends told, far into the night.

On the third night Cornelius stood and said, “I drink a toast to the clan of Vito!” The clan cheered.

“I drink a toast to my uncles.” The clan cheered.

“I drink a toast to my family.” The clan cheered.

“Now, I drink a toast to tomorrow. Tomorrow my friends and I will ride south. We must meet Senator Tiberius in the town of Rimini. We must take our place in the army and keep our honor.”

The word honor gave the clan a charge. It was a word the entire clan understood. They stood and cheered the seven young men.

Sometime after the last toast, Cornelius gathered with his family and shared a warm good-bye.

“I will write and send messages. I can send things by the army. You will know where I am and what I am doing. Maybe someday we will learn of our little brothers. For now I must go. I must do this thing of honor. Tomorrow there will not be time or opportunity for good-byes. Tonight I give you my love, and I want you to know you are in my mind constantly.”

The next morning over two hundred clansmen stood and waved as the seven men rode out through the guarded entrance.

They left later than planned, but Cornelius cut one day off the leg south. He calculated five days from Milano to the compound and six from the compound to Rimini. They arrived in Rimini in five days.

Cornelius inquired at the army garrison, “Has Senator Tiberius and his escort passed through this way?”

The commander said, “We have seen no troops or escort. You are the first travelers we have seen in over two weeks.”

When the senator did arrive, he asked, “How long have you been in Rimini, Cornelius?”

“Two days, Senator.”

“I rode slowly to give you more time.”

“I rode fast to keep our appointment and my word, Senator.”

The senator smiled, shook his head and commented, “We will be here two more days. I have political issues to address. Then, we will ride to Roma.”

When the senator led the caravan into Roma, Cornelius for the first time in his adult life felt fear.

He told his friends, “There is too much of everything.”

He did not explore Roma as many did and he welcomed the barracks upon arrival at the centurion school. Later in their quarters the others expressed much the same feelings. They were soldiers and preferred army life away from the city and the teeming masses.

Shortly after the return of Tiberius to Roma, he became Emperor of Rome, and Roma celebrated and feasted.

One thing put a dark cloud over the occasion. Word came of the defeat and humiliation of Varus in Germania. For the first time in history the Roman Army suffered a defeat. The barbarians of the north routed the army.

The Emperor called Cornelius to the palace for an audience. They met in private.

“Cornelius, you have heard of the humiliation of Varus?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“It is terrible. One army wins a battle and another is dissipated. Now, we must rebuild the army. We will need good officers. Promise me you and your friends will be at the top of the class. I need to know I have some centurions I can trust.”

“You have our allegiance, Sire.”

“I knew I could count on you. When your school is finished you will be sent back to the north. You will become my eyes and ears on the frontier. I will arrange the method whereby you can send me periodic reports. Cornelius, I am still in your debt, and now the empire will be in your debt.”

“May the gods watch over us, my Lord.”

“Yes, may they.”

Cornelius found the centurion school much like the training camp and perhaps something similar to the gladiatorial school.

They rose at dawn and began their rigid training. After a quick breakfast each morning, many hours of physical exercise followed. Officer training followed the noon meal. This training consisted of molding each man into a centurion. They were instructed in the giving of orders, handling of men, meting out discipline, training men, following superior officers’ orders, and serving the empire.

Many of the weapon drills were with wooden swords and shields.

One instructor said to them, “The purpose of these drills is to allow superior officers time to evaluate the skill of each man.”

What the instructor led them to believe only revealed the real purpose of the drill. The truth became self-evident in a short time.

A large number of the men in the school were sons of some dignitary. Others were kin of senators or well-to-do family members. They bought, bribed or cheated their way into the school. They jockeyed for positions. Each wanted a glorious military career and then to be in the senate. They knew nothing about military life or fighting.

Cornelius soon discovered the schoolmasters used men like him to help encourage pampered rich or political appointed trainees to leave the school. When the sons of dignitaries donned armor and took up the sword, every soft and pampered boy soon went home.

On one of those occasions Cornelius drilled with a very pompous young man from the south of Roma. He was condescending to everyone in the school, including the instructors. He sneered at their combat with wooden swords.

“Why do they not give us real swords and let me show them how to do combat? This is child’s play! I am insulted to have to do this meaningless exercise.”

The senior instructor called a halt to the exercise. He walked down into the exercise area and said, “So, Marciano, you think this is child’s play?”

“Yes. This is below my dignity.”

“Oh, you think so? You think you really want to use real swords, helmets and armor and do combat?”

Marciano spat and said, “Who among these dogs is worthy to do combat with me?”

The officer stared at the young man and laughed at his insolence.

“Very well, if you want to do combat.” The officer paused and studied the various trainees. “Now, let me see. Why not with, oh, let us say, well, the man you have been practicing with?”

“Why he is just - -” The young man scoffed, “No offense, what is your name?”

“Cornelius.”

“No offense, Cornelius.” He turned from Cornelius and looked at the officer, “I think I should be given the opportunity to fight the best man in the school.”

“Very well.” the head instructor responded. He called an assistant, “Fit Marciano with full armor, helmet and give him a sword and a shield.” The assistant led Marciano to the armory room.

The instructor turned to Cornelius. “Don’t kill him, just humiliate the little arrogant son of a jackal.” The rest of the officer’s statement became a low spoken curse.

Cornelius donned his full armor and helmet and took up his sword and shield. This task he did not relish, but when he saw the gleam in the eyes of his comrades, he changed his mind. This could be a very interesting exercise.

Marciano strutted back onto the training floor. He swung his sword first on one side and then to the other.

He brandished it and challenged Cornelius, “Come let me show you how to use the sword and shield, if I must fight with you.”

“I serve the commander and follow his orders.”

Marciano sneered, “I will attend to this matter very quickly!”

Cornelius slowly walked toward the insolent young man. Cornelius almost laughed at the man’s stance and posture.

He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. He could not afford to laugh in the man’s face, as this would add insult to injury. He knew this young man would leave the arena injured. Either he would suffer physical injury or he would find his pride destroyed. Suddenly standing there looking at a man two years older than himself made Cornelius feel very old.

They met in the center of the arena. Marciano knew a few fairly good moves, but Cornelius turned his parries and thrusts away with no effort.

Marciano charged and hammered at Cornelius’ shield. Again, Cornelius turned his attack to the side. After several attempts to strike Cornelius, Marciano began to use wild and unconventional maneuvers to attack Cornelius. Cornelius continued to turn his attack to the side.

During one of Marciano’s wild attacks Cornelius suddenly parried him off to the side and hit him on the butt with the broad side of his sword, as he stepped by the fuming, would-be soldier.

Marciano stopped and turned red in the face. “Is this how you fight in the field? Is this how you combat the enemy?”

Cornelius smiled and said, “No, more like this.” He attacked. He rained blows on Marciano’s shield, armor and helmet. He hit the sides and top of the helmet with ringing blows at every turn. He knew Marciano’s head rang and his vision must be blurred from the attack. Blood ran from the young man’s nose.

Then Cornelius with one fast and smooth twist of his sword disarmed Marciano. Marciano’s sword went skidding across the arena floor. Cornelius advanced toward Marciano and placed his sword tip at the quaking man’s throat.

Marciano saw death in Cornelius’s eyes. He saw death and fear gripped his heart. He thought Cornelius would kill him. He stood his ground for a moment, then broke and ran from the arena crying. They never saw him again.

While they never saw Marciano again, they did see his father. The next day Marciano’s father appeared at the school demanding he be given an opportunity to defend the family’s honor and name.

The senator shouted, “I must have satisfaction! I must defend the honor of my family!”

Ordinarily, this request would have been brushed aside, but not this time. The father was an esteemed member of the Senate and could not be sent away. His name carried some weight.

The senior instructor came to Cornelius. “We cannot have this type of thing here in the school. It is unheard of.”

Cornelius asked, “You want me to resign?”

“Oh, no, I just need a way to resolve this matter outside the school.”

“Don’t you have an arena of some sort down back of the school?” He pointed at the rear of the school. “An old horse arena or something?”

“Why, yes, as a matter of fact we do. It is completely off the school property. There is an arena we rented for the school at one time. What do you suggest?”

“Tell the father I will meet him in the arena at the ninth hour tomorrow.”

“You are sure about this, Cornelius? You want to go through with this? He is a senator.”

“He may be a lot of things, but his blood is red like every man’s. Make the appointment.”

“Very well, I suggest you take your friends with you. I do not trust this man or what might happen.”

The next morning Cornelius and the notorious six entered the unused arena at the ninth hour. Each carried his sword and shield under his great long cloak. No one occupied the arena, but in moments a clamor outside the arena announced the arrival of Cornelius’ opponent.

Antonio reported, “He is here, and he has about twenty men with him.”

“Armed?” Cornelius asked.

“He is, but if the others are, they have their weapons hidden under their robes and cloaks.”

“My friends, I suspect treachery. That is why I insisted you wear your armor and carry weapons. Put your helmets under your big cloaks. Keep them concealed from view under your long heavy cloaks. They should stay there until there is trouble. If needed and there is trouble, you will be prepared. If this is a trap, we will fight with our backs to that wall.”

Cornelius pointed to a place of good defense. “We will have our backs there, and they can only come at us a few at a time. Understand?”

All six nodded their understanding. The main entrance burst open and Marciano’s father strutted into the arena. He wore old used armor and helmet. Cornelius wondered if he served and fought in the army at one time.

“Are you the man who insulted my son?”

“I do not think I insulted him, but I taught him a lesson.”

Cornelius’ statement ended the conversation. The father, in his anger, threw off his cloak, revealing his sword and shield in hand.

Cornelius expected treachery. With the motion of throwing off the cloak the father charged Cornelius, striking with hard vicious swings of his sword. Cornelius used his cloak to ward off the attack and his shield to deflect the blows. He threw the cloak up making a fan, obscuring the man’s vision. Before the senator could charge again, Cornelius donned his helmet and slipped his left arm in the rings on the back of his shield. With another motion Cornelius tossed his cloak to one side and drew his sword.

They circled. Now treachery did not play into the scene. Skill and ability would tell the story. The father charged over and over. He parried, thrust and feinted, but to no avail. Cornelius turned his attack to the side. He slipped by the thrust of the older man time and again. He brushed the attack off, side-stepped and deflected the older man’s blows. In a few minutes, the older man began to breathe hard and sweat rolled down his face.

Cornelius paused and stepped back. “Sir, if you want to say you have had your satisfaction, I will yield.”

“Now you would insult me?” the father bellowed and charged with renewed vigor. Swords clashed and one shield hammered against the other. The arena grew quiet except for the grunts or exclamations of the two men.

Cornelius parried another blow away. He stepped back and said, “Sir, either lay down your sword or prepare to be humiliated like your son.”

His statement only infuriated the father more. He, the father, lost self-control. He roared like a bull and charged. His charge was misguided. Cornelius with finesse parried the attack. With one clever twist of his sword, he ripped the father’s sword from his hand. The sword flew in the air and landed ten feet away. The father stood dumbfounded, breath heaving and brow wet with sweat.

“Now, are you going to kill me?”

“No. I would not soil my sword with your blood.” Instead he shifted his sword to his left hand under his shield, drew his dagger and placed the tip against the man’s throat.

“You are a fool, and you have a son who is a bigger fool. Instead of killing you, I will give you the mark of the coward.”

With that statement he placed the tip of the dagger just below the father’s left eye. One swift downward motion drew blood. The cut ran from under his eye to his chin. He bellowed, grabbed his face and cursed Cornelius.

“You - - I will - - Seize him! All of you take him!” The twenty friends or hired thugs of the father threw off their cloaks exposing not swords and shields, but clubs, knives, chains, and staffs.

Cornelius trotted to the wall, the one he indicated earlier, and shouted, “ITALIA STAND!”

His six comrades threw off their cloaks revealing swords and shields. They joined Cornelius and formed a semi-circle with their backs to the wall. One of the rabble, apparently the leader, gave a shout, and they rushed Cornelius and his six co-fighters.

Cornelius called out, “Try to not kill. Wound only.” His wishes were of the highest standard, but as they were dealing with men who attacked them, wishes were another matter.

The twenty were really not a match for the seven. With deliberate dispatch the soldiers of the Italia Band began to cut the attackers down. It became butchery and not a pretty sight. Blood stained the arena floor.

When the number of the attackers dropped to ten, they turned and ran.

Cornelius shouted, “ITALIA CHARGE!” The seven gave chase and completed the task. Every man who attacked them either died or suffered terrible wounds.

Cornelius called out, “No quarter given and no quarter requested.”

The unused arena became slick with blood and stank with the odor of death, of loosened bowels and men vomiting. It was a battle scene from some foreign field of combat.

Cornelius caught the father by the neck. “Now, I just wonder what kind of lies you will tell about this event. To be sure you tell the truth or keep you mouth shut, I have arranged for an audience. Look!”

Cornelius pointed at the stands around the arena. They were filled with centurion school trainees and instructors. In addition, on one side the emperor of Roma, Tiberius Claudius Nero, and his court sat watching.

During the fighting, Cornelius’ guests silently slipped into the arena.

Now, the battered, bloody and scared father fell to his knees in front of his Emperor.

“My Lord.” The privilege of speaking was lost. In one moment the hand of nature and the gods took control. Gasping and strangling, the father fell on his face in the dirt, dead.

Months later Cornelius heard the rumor of the fight. The rumor spread over Roma like wild fire. Gossip was on every lip and most of the gossip wrong. The Imperial Court acted on the matter. The family was exiled, property seized, and the senator’s name removed from the records. Suddenly and efficiently, the man and his family never existed and the centurion school trainees were instructed to remain silent.

Cornelius, to celebrate the end of the centurion school and his twenty-first birthday with his friends, though they did not know his birthday, hosted a feast for the entire school. They celebrated the conclusion and end of the centurion school.

With centurion school concluded, they decided to have a private celebration at a nearby inn. When they were gathered, finished dinner and were drinking wine, Cornelius stood and proposed a toast.

“First, I would make a toast to the seven of us.” The room filled with laughter and cheers.

“Then, I would drink to our Emperor, Tiberius.” The cheers were even louder.

“Finally, I would ask you to drink to my twenty-first birthday. This is my birthday.”

The six shouted louder and slapped Cornelius on the back as they drank and laughed. Years later Cornelius would reflect on that night, with fondest memories and love for his comrades in his heart.

Sergio said, “Cornelius, I guess I must agree with you.”

Cornelius asked, “About what, Sergio?”

“The gods must be looking down on you, if not each of us.”

“Why do you say that, Sergio?”

“Look at the things that have happened to us. We should have been hanged as escaped slaves. In fact we could have been hanged twice. The mistress could have hanged us, at least you. Captain Pietro could have hanged us. We just slipped out of the rope. Then, we should not have defeated the barbarians. We should have died on the field of battle fighting such tremendous odds. Last, who would have ever thought we seven would attend the Roman centurion school and become centurions? The gods must like you, Cornelius.”

“Sergio, I do not know if the gods like me or all of us. I do not know if there are many gods or one god. But I do believe the gods are looking after us, the little people, slaves and soldiers.”

“Cornelius, I must agree,” declared Sergio.

Before Cornelius and his friends left Roma, they were called to an audience with the Emperor Tiberius.

They entered the great hall with fear and trembling. Perhaps the gods arranged for them to appear before the emperor, but for what reason, they did not know.