ROMAN ITALY

Rome, 23 B.C.

Silence descended upon the large dining room. All eyes were on the guest disguised as Lupercus. Jago felt embarrassed. The identity of all the other diners was effectively disguised by their masks, but a blind man who had to feel his way along with a stick could hardly be confused

with anyone else. Still, the young Lusitanian felt that it was not pity aimed in his direction, but genuine admiration, so he bowed his head to show that he understood.

Apollo placed the lyre next to the nearest tray. “Prefect Victor Julius Felix has done a marvellous job to date,” he said, “And honoured the names he bears. But the world is changing, and the duty of a good governor is to know how to adapt to changes.”

“Actually,” a female voice interrupted on the other side of the room, “The duty of a good governor should be to bring about change.”

A buzz of disapproval followed her statement.

Apollo smiled and nodded. Felix made some gesture with sign language but was interrupted.

“An excellent observation.” Apollo’s gaze wandered moved to the girl who had spoken, who was dressed as Juno. “And not at all imprudent, as your companions may have thought.” He raised his hands and slowly removed the mask, and the face of Octavius Augustus revealed itself to the eyes of those present, who instinctively held their breath, “But changes do not always depend upon the action of a sovereign. They travel in the air of time and impact upon our lives in unpredictable ways. The wise man is able to master them while the foolish man will be overwhelmed.”

Augustus folded his arms.

“I do not want my children to be overwhelmed by fate and by what is in store for the Empire. Your powers are priceless wealth. And we cannot waste this treasure.” He put his hands on the table and felt the chill of marble beneath his fingertips. His charismatic gaze rested on each of the diners one by one.

“Our enemies have learned to speak with their gods. This is no great feat. We have been able to do the same for a long time. But nevertheless, this development alters the balance of things, since until now only Rome had had this advantage.”

Octavius indicated a point far on the horizon created by the walls of Rome. The spectacle enjoyed from the triclinium was enough to take your breath away.

“Our priests have always represented a point of reference for the troops, at their side on the battlefields or in the temples in their absence. But what we believed we had learned so far is no longer enough.”

The masked gods exchanged questioning glances. Their astonishment showed through the motionless features of the faces sculpted in terracotta.

“Victor Felix will no longer be merely your teacher, your confidant and your adoptive father. From today he will also and most importantly, be your commander. You will be asked to act quickly, to move from one province of the Empire to another, with contacts ready to give you asylum wherever is necessary.”

He walked over to the great panoramic opening which overlooked the city of Rome and paused a while to observe the mantle of night that clothed the capital, then continued.

“A new, different force. A force that answers only to the emperor and which no one else in the Senate can influence.”

He turned and his golden silhouette stood out in contrast to the starry darkness.

“A war machine capable of blending the experience and strength of the army with the wisdom of a new generation of priests. Which will last as long as you allow it, and whose secrets you will take to your graves.” The flames of the braziers crackled. “Capable of moving in the shadows and bringing light into the darkness. Something about which you cannot brag – a tavern legend, a pure invention from the mouths of children and the insane.”

The buzz among the dinner guests grew. They had understood the deeper meaning of Augustus’s words.

“But tonight,” the emperor resumed, “eat, drink and be merry. Tomorrow will be the beginning of your new life under the banner of Rome.” Augustus snapped his fingers and two servants entered the hall, carrying a pole surmounted by a black cloth. They made room on the table and laid it down carefully. “And this banner is my first gift to you.”

At this point everyone removed their masks. The features of the young men and women, which differed so greatly from one another, bore witness to how far the boundaries of the Empire extended.

Full of wonder and excitement, their eyes were all focused on the words embroidered in gold thread, capable of transforming a simple piece of fabric into a symbol.

‘Watching in the darkness,” whispered Jago. And as the legion’s motto came from the mouth of the blind boy, they all understood that that night, at the edge of the City, they had touched with their own hands the glory of Rome.