“That meeting really did change my life.”
A tall man, dressed in yellow, his face hidden by a mask representing the god Apollo, entered the room, to the amazement of all present. On his head he wore a laurel wreath and in his hands he held a lyre. His fingers played absent-mindedly with the strings of the instrument producing short, disjointed notes.
“That tribune told me about an incredible project,” he said, walking towards Victor Felix, “That Gaius Julius Caesar had undertaken because he was convinced by the face of a child who had seen the gods and lost his speech forever.”
The man disguised as Apollo stopped beside the prefect and looked at the other guests one by one.
“Of course, the location where the first special children had been gathered proved unsuitable and it was necessary to find… something better.”
His tunic was so long it reached his ankles. The edges and the sleeves were embellished with golden thread seams that echoed the colour of the mask.
“That same tribune, a few months after our first meeting, led me to a fortified village on the alpine slopes. It was easy enough to reach, although it immediately struck me that those lands would need a better road to connect the provinces divided by the Alps.” He smiled at his words, then continued. “The chosen ones were still few, and rather than recruits they looked like bedraggled chicks caught out in a rainstorm. The place didn’t make a good impression on me. I could see the good intentions, but such a brilliant idea deserved something better.”
An almost religious silence accompanied his words.
“In short, the place was not very welcoming, strategically difficult to defend and, due to its geographical position, practically inaccessible for at least four months of the year.”
Victor Felix’s hands moved. Apollo noticed it and turned to his side. When the officer finished moving his fingers there was no need for the translator because Apollo himself reported what he had said for the benefit of all.
“It is true, it was not easy at the beginning. Once they had arrived at their destination, the children had not responded as one might have imagined. Many had proved to be merely frauds or good conjurers. For this reason, the recruitment system was later improved.”
He turned to the little group closest to him. Jago and Dryantilla nodded. Sibiam just shrugged.
“We had to find another solution. Another home,” Apollo resumed, “A home in which the children would feel safe and could study and progress with a qualified training program.
“As you well know,” he continued, spreading his hand to indicate all those present, “the powers are often manifested only in part at the beginning, and in an unruly manner. Sometimes they may be entirely absent or hardly detectable upon a superficial examination. For this reason, we wanted a new home and someone capable of working on every single child with patience, tenacity and rigour.”
The servants had not dared venture into the dining room since the host of the villa had arrived. Not even to change the cutlery and those wonderful red earthenware dishes from Samos that the master of ceremonies had preferred to more obvious materials like silver or gold.
Through the opening that led to the outside you could see the sentinels watching over the access to the villa, lit by torches. The place seemed completely isolated from the rest of the city. And not only because of its position, detached and slightly raised above the streets.
The huge laid table was just waiting for someone to take advantage of it.
“Felix, have I invited marble statues to my dinner?”
The rhetorical demand helped dissolve the tension that had accumulated since the arrival of the host, and some hands began timidly reaching for the dishes. All the masks left the lower part of the face and the mouth free.
Thus the supper of the twelve gods began.
At that point even the slaves suddenly summoned up their courage and returned to the hall, carrying large bronze trays upon which they displayed beautiful beverage containers made of that fragile and transparent material that was the talk of the afternoon sessions in the bathhouses.
“And how did it end?” asked the farthest among the gods, addressing Apollo. He was a young Mars, with threatening eyes.
“You know how it ended,” concluded Apollo, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here tonight.”
He put a hand on the prefect’s shoulder.
“But first it was necessary to cross the sea.”