LEPTIS MAGNA

Africa Superior, 10 B.C.

“Come forward.”

Dagos took a couple of steps and stood right in the beam of light that filtered into the narrow room.

“So you are the new augur?” asked Dryantilla. Her blue eyes peered at him intensely, focusing in particular on his thick white lashes.

Dagos merely nodded.

“You are a man of few words, but you have passed the exam, therefore you know how to speak.”

When the young priest joined her on the platform, the girl pulled a lever that protruded from the wall.

“Are you ready?”

Dagos nodded again. The ground beneath his feet began to give way. The augur lowered his eyes and instinctively sought something to support himself. But the four walls of the room seemed suddenly to be flying upwards.

“It is a mechanical system that allows us to descend to the level of the gyms,” Dryantilla explained to him, raising her voice so as to be heard over the sound of the machinery of the lift,” and which also leads to the lodgings located one floor below. Our fortress is not visible from the outside. It has been cleverly disguised in the topography of the city. Augustus says it was for our sake. The emperor sees enemies everywhere.”

Dagos listened to the girl without speaking. Accompanied by the singsong noise of the pulleys that crept through the teeth of the gears and moved the wood and iron box downwards, he let himself be enchanted by the mosaics that seemed to rise from below like fountains. They depicted heroic deeds, memories of battles and the faces of boys and girls who must have been the same age. And that he would see in flesh and blood as soon as that hellish contraption finished its descent.

The platform stopped with a jerk. Dryantilla undid a lock by turning a round knob that had appeared as soon as the elevator stopped. A marble slab slid into one of the walls of the cubicle and in its place a wooden door inlaid with gold studs appeared which opened with a gentle push.

A breeze that smelled of coconuts and bluebells crept into the elevator. When Dagos emerged, he froze as if he had been stung by a scorpion. What seemed to be flowing through his veins, though, was not poison but something very like an ecstatic drug. His eyes, accustomed to the glories of Rome, the triumphs and the most beautiful temples that human memory could remember, could not believe the spectacle that small door had revealed. The mechanical lift had taken them to an immense lush covered garden. Built dozens of yards beneath the soil of Leptis, far from the eyes of the common people, was a hidden garden full of plants, trees, climbing plants and small fountains, while terracotta and bronze statues in evocative poses welcomed all those who entered that earthly paradise.

“The look the first time is the funniest thing.”

“What?” Dagos blinked, only then remembering that Dryantilla was beside him.

“Everyone who comes here has the same look on their face the first time that you have now. Because nobody can believe that there can be another city under the soil of Leptis.”

“Another city?”

“Of course. We have everything down here. Our homes, the places where we train, and armouries, tailors and even servants. Everything we need to take care of our health and fitness while we wait to be called into action. Of course, not everyone is able to manage it and not everyone is able to manage it at the same time. But that is decided by the instructors. And from today,” she said, giving him an intent look, “That is something you will decide for yourself.”

Dagos replied with a puzzled look. He followed behind her like a faithful dog while she crossed the gardens, following a series of small well-tended paths, until a frantic chattering sound announced that they had reached the training areas. The large covered garden gave way to a space made up of enclosed sand squares. A network of passages made it possible to move from one sector to another and each sector housed a group of youngsters standing close around an adult. Dagos quickly scanned what must be the gyms. There were instructors who taught to hit dummies or shoot arrows. Some showed how to wear armour or wield a dagger, others how to hold a shield or engage in hand-to-hand combat. The children laughed and jumped about, eager to put themselves to the test.

“Some will become soldiers, some knights,” Dryantilla explained, “But in the end some will decide that it is better to play a trumpet than to wield a sword.”

“Why are they so… so…” The augur struggled to speak.

“Why are they so little, you mean? Because we want to see immediately what they are made of. And our master taught us that a child is like a handful of dough: when he becomes an adult he grows a crust and then it becomes impossible to enter his thoughts.” The girl stopped to observe the augur. “Do you know how many of these children were destined to die? Of hunger, hardship or lost somewhere in the Empire at the hands of a barbarian or even a legionary? Here they are given a new lease of life, and all they have to do in return is serve Rome. As we did, of it comes to that.”

“I too have ever served Rome,” said the priest, “but I never needed to come down here.”

Dryantilla bowed her head and shrugged.

“There are many ways to serve Rome. This is the one I like most.” She started walking again, then stopped suddenly and turned around. “But are you sure you want to do it?”

“Of course.”

The blue-eyed girl pushed a rebellious lock of hair from her face. She wore it gathered at the nape of her neck in the manner of a Roman matron, and at first sight this gave her a mature air which, however, was immediately offset by the sparkle in her clear young eyes.

Dagos had been immediately attracted to her.

“Of course,” he repeated.

They went on, and the landscape changed again. Another very large area divided into smaller areas came to meet them. Each of the areas was of a different design and they were separated by high grates or walls that hid what was happening on the other side. Whispers and quiet chuckles could be heard.

Dagos realised that Dryantilla had slowed her pace. The girl stopped in front of a gate set in a wall which was at least ten feet high. She pushed the gate, which opened quietly.

“Come, I want to show you something.”

The augur followed her and found himself in a clearing covered with fine white sand. Inside were four children, standing shoulder to shoulder, staring at a dummy stuffed with straw which was clad in armour and wore a crested helmet. A round wooden shield had been attached to its truncated arm while a dagger in a scabbard hung from its belt.

“Come on, let me see what you can do,” said a tall, burly man with black skin who stood facing the children. The four knelt down and began to stare at the puppet as if it were their worst enemy. Suddenly the helmet began to tremble more and more violently, until it rose slowly and began to swing like a pendulum before returning to the straw-stuffed head.

“Bravo Crudion, but I don’t want you to play,” said the man reproachfully.

The taller of the four, a child with blond hair, snorted.

“Oh, come on, Sibiam. You know what I can do. I don’t want to do it every day. Let me have some fun now and then.”

The instructor approached the boy with a firm step.

“It is not for you to decide when training ends, Crudion. Just as is not for you to decide when the enemy will face you and threaten your life – your life and the lives of the soldiers you will be called to protect. Now go to your room and reflect upon this. Take all the time you need.”

Crudion kicked the sand and went to the exit without saying a word. He passed by Dagos and, before going through the gate, looked him up and down.

“And don’t worry about lunch,” Sibiam called after him before he disappeared. “You won’t find your bowl in the refectory today.”

Crudion did not turn around, but simply shrugged and disappeared. Sibiam’s eyes went back to the other three children.

“That is enough for today. We will continue tomorrow. You can go.”

Two of them obeyed, but the third, who was also the smallest, remained where he was, as though enchanted. His elongated face, oddly pointed ears and evasive eyes made him look like a faun.

Sibiam went over to him and knelt down so as to meet the boy’s gaze.

“Assum, did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, I… I heard.” But the boy didn’t move. He continued to stare at the dummy.

‘Then stop trying. You will see that one day you will manage it, but it is not written that that day is today.” Sibiam stopped for a moment to search for the most suitable words. “And this is not necessarily the right discipline for you. It is possible that it was a coincidence and that you are suited for something else instead.”

Assum growled and glared again at the dummy.

“N… no. I’m … I’m going to do it. “

Sibiam raised his head and sighed, and in that moment noticed the presence of Dryantilla and the newcomer. He smiled and walked over to them. “You must be the new priest,” he said, holding out his hand to Dagos, who took it, more than a little more intimidated by those muscles which jumped with the rhythm of the man’s breathing.

“My name is Sibiam and I am a metal manipulator. And I also try to teach it to those who might have the same abilities.”. He turned to look at Assum, who hadn’t moved. “Although it is not always easy. Many come here full of expectations but then turn out to be normal children. We don’t send them away, because a community is made up of many jobs and many responsibilities, but in the end we have to convince them that they haven’t been called. And that is not easy.”

“My name is Dagos and I interpret the flight of birds.”

“An augur”, exclaimed the black-skinned man, placing the five fingers of his right hand on the young priest’s shoulder. “I too possess some rudiments of that talent.” Sibiam smiled at him and then, without changing expression, turned to look at Dryantilla. “I see you’ve already had the good fortune to meet Dryantilla, the most beautiful.”

“He says that because I am the woman of his best friend,” replied the girl.

“The biggest mistake of his life,” replied the metal manipulator, still speaking to the newcomer, “but also the best choice he could have made.” He smiled and put a hand on her cheek and the girl squeezed his wrist and returned the smile.

“Has she already told you what she can do?” Sibiam asked suddenly, addressing the priest.

“Get down,” Dryantilla commanded, and Sibiam obeyed without thinking.

Dagos looked first at the man and then at the woman but did not move, and the shield hit him full in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“I… I… I…” cried Assum as he hopped joyfully about. He raced over to Sibiam and pulled at his tunic, accompanying his gesture with broad grin. “I… I …”

“You did it, lad,” the man said, picking him up and twirling him in the air. “You really did it!”

Sitting on the ground, blood dripping from his nose, Dagos watched the scene.

Assum pointed to the shield boss. “It’s… iron.”

Sibiam nodded. “And you were able to move it because you were angry.” He turned to Dryantilla. “That’s how Jago started too.”

The girl gave a nod of confirmation.

“Could you help me, please?” asked Dagos, his hand to his nose.

“Of course, sorry.” Sibiam put the boy down and held out a hand to the augur. “By the way,” he said, looking over at Dryantilla, “she is a seer. But you couldn’t have known that.”

Dagos looked at them without saying a word. As the blood continued to trickle from his nose, he found himself chuckling.