THE MEANEST BEAST THE GODS INVENTED

This short story was first published in the short story collection THE KINDLED FOOTPATH in 2016.

The dig site out of Capua was getting bigger and bigger. Dr. Rhodes feared they might accidentally violate the boundaries of the territory the government had granted them for their archaeological excavations.

‘Dr. Valentine?’ he called out to is Italian colleague. ‘I think we should check the GPS before the ditch is getting too big.’

‘Later, Phil,’ Dr. Valentine replied. ‘Come here, first. You’ve got to see this with your own eyes.’

The Italians were normally not the kind of archaeologists who got excited easily. Dr. Rhodes had always thought it must have something to do with the wonderland they were inhabiting. He believed he had never in his life been to a country that had a richer culture, a denser quantity of artifacts, of course next to being one of the most beautiful in the world.

Carefully, he walked across the dig site they had created in the past weeks, trying to have his eyes everywhere to see something of relevance poking out of the dirt and rescue it instead of step on it, should anyone have missed anything. It looked like they were at a mass grave site. This being close to Capua, they of course hoped for gladiators instead of common peasants. They were interesting as well, but stories of ancient gladiators were just more interesting than the common life of the common people.

‘What did you find here?’ Dr. Rhodes asked descending into the pit his Italian colleagues had dug. They were very good at that he noticed. The edges looked like somebody had cut them with a ruler. They probably had. They took great pride in their heritage here, sometimes even more so on an academic level.

Dr. Valentine exchanged some facts and theories with his Italian colleagues. They were discussing what they had found.

‘We’re not sure, Phil,’ he said in English again. ‘It’s definitely a gladiator. But the big cat beats us.’

‘A big cat you say? Must be a leopard or lion,’ Dr. Rhodes said looking down into the grave, pushing past the Italians. What he saw blew his breath away. They were standing in front of a gladiator, that was sure. The man had the typical bulky build that you also found in soldiers, some marks from injuries you could see without further examination, but more prominently than that, he had an iron ring around his ankle. It was meant to slow him down. The cat did not confuse Dr. Rhodes that much at the moment, because he could not distinguish the bones of a tiger from those of a leopard or lion. The only cat he could identify, which was not difficult, was a cheetah, but you almost never found them anywhere near amphitheatres.

‘That is what we are not so sure about.’ Dr. Valentine said. ‘This looks a lot like a leopard but something isn’t right.’

‘Nevertheless, I find it more remarkable that the man was buried together with the animal. The ring around his ankle is unusual for a bestiarius.’

‘You’re right. But he might as well have been a slave before becoming a gladiator.

‘What would you reckon from his build?’

‘He was a big man. Six foot. About two-hundred pounds, I’d say. Typical for a gladiator, maybe even slightly bigger than the average.’

‘Yeah, I was thinking the same. I’ll get Suzanne. She happens to know a thing or two about big cats as well, next to being an anthropologist.’

‘We’ll check in the meantime if there’s more to be found.’

Dr. Rhodes went across the site again to talk to Suzanne Anfield. She was not yet a doctor but a brilliant woman in his opinion. Currently, she was working on her thesis concerning deviation of build in males in the past two thousand years of evolution. That sounded more interesting than it was, because most of the time, it came down to measuring skulls, comparing diameters, making assumptions concerning body weight, health, diet, and many other factors that would hopefully allow for a conclusion, or at least that was what she anticipated.

‘Suzanne?’ Dr. Rhodes said upon entering the tent where she was working most of the time. ‘You’ve got some time to spare?’

She was measuring finger links at the moment they had found the day before. For somebody who never had to deal with that, it was hard to comprehend that something as, presumably, easy as determining the gender of remnants that have been found could be a difficult task, forcing you to not always rely on evidence. Nobody would ever admit it, but in difficult cases, when you had the unusual looking bones you were looking for, that would either contribute to or destroy your theory, relying on gut-feeling was the last resort.

‘I think I’m close to a breakthrough here, Dr. Rhodes,’ she said not looking up from the fingers she was examining.

‘Really? What’s your theory on the fingers?’

‘From the size I assume we’ve got to change our opinion on evolution being the cause of increase in total body size. I believe the old theory is right. More than anything, it had to do with diet, especially right after birth. Well-fed infants turn into big people.’

‘Not bad, but not exactly trailblazing news that’ll cause scientists all around the world to rewrite all the books that state theories on body size during the ancient Roman period, true or not.’

‘Okay, that might be as well a valid statement,’ she said putting the bones away. ‘What do you’ve got?’

‘A gladiator was found. Six foot tall, iron ring around his ankle. But that’s not the interesting bit.’

‘What is? Does he have Asian features or something like that?’

‘Just come and take a look. I don’t want to spoil it for you.’

‘Really that unusual? What could it be? Because of the iron ring, I reckon we’re talking about a  secutor, not a retiarius.’

‘No, he’s a bestiarius.’

‘What? No way. Okay, you’ve got me hooked. I’d sure like to know what makes you think he’s a bestiarius, even though I might state that, technically, that would mean he’s not a gladiator.’

‘Very good, Miss Anfield. Not many people know there is a difference between the gladiators and those who fought beasts. Follow me.’

Suzanne got up and followed Dr. Rhodes across the dig site. She tried to figure out what they had found but could not make a good guess. Interesting was her reaction when she looked down into the hole, where the Italian archaeologists, historians and anthropologists were busy excavating more of the gladiator and the cat he had been buried with.

‘I don’t believe my eyes,’ Suzanne said.

‘It’s a leopard, is it not?’ Dr. Valentine asked.

‘No, it’s not a leopard. Just look at the massive head and jaw.’

‘That means it’s a lion?’ Dr. Rhodes asked. ‘A female, judging from the size.’

‘It is also not a lion.’

‘Are you sure, Miss Anfield?’ Dr. Valentine asked. ‘What else could it be? It can’t be a cheetah, so the only option would be a tiger from Persia or Scythia.’

‘Let me take a closer look at this, okay?’

She jumped into the hole. For the first time she did not have an eye for the gladiator, that was lying there in prime condition, ready to be examined and included into her theory and her doctor’s thesis. All that Suzanne Anfield had eyes for was the big cat buried right next to the gladiator.

She traced the lines of the head with her bare hand. That was what she focused on. Everybody at the site knew enough about big cats to be aware that their bodies looked very similar when there was no fur or meat left to identify them. That made it more difficult, so it made sense to take a closer look at the head. If you knew a thing or two, you could distinguish them from the details on their heads.

‘So, what do we’ve got now?’ Dr. Rhodes asked. He was standing next to Dr. Valentine, both of them watching what Suzanne was doing with excitement. She was taking solving this riddle very seriously.

‘I have an idea,’ she said. ‘But it doesn’t make sense. My mind tells me this can’t be what I think it is. It just can’t from what we know.’

‘If you think it’s a tiger,’ Dr. Valentine said, ‘let me assure you there are texts stating their presence at amphitheatres. They were not as common as the beasts from Africa but they were trapped and deployed in fights as well.’

‘I’d be glad to think this was a tiger, only that I don’t think so. What I believe is this doesn’t even come from Africa or Asia. Not even Europe.’

‘What does that mean?’ Dr. Rhodes asked.

She got up, wiped her hands clean and then considered her theory for a last moment until she stated it.

‘Gentlemen, what you’ve got here, together with a nicely preserved bestiarius, is a jaguar.’

‘That is impossible,’ Dr. Valentine insisted. ‘How should a jaguar have made it to Capua? I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken.’

‘That is the interesting thing about it, yes.’

‘Suzanne, are you really sure it is a jaguar?’ Dr. Rhodes asked. ‘For all I know, they’re hard to distinguish from leopards.’

‘Yes, I am sure. All the distinctive features are here, but the opinion of an expert on the matter can’t do any harm. Of course it could be a leopard, that had some sort of genetic defects to it, or was well-fed, but I believe it’s a jaguar.’

‘And you decide to neglect what you know about history?’ Dr. Valentine asked her. ‘So far, we still think Columbus has discovered the Americas in 1492. Anything else is nothing but speculation.’

‘I’m that sure, I bet a hundred Euros on it. And you know as good as I do that doctoral students don’t have money in abundance.’

‘I accept. This is either a leopard or a female lion.’

‘You have to specify your opinion if you want to bet, Dr. Valentine.’

‘Okay, it is a big leopard. I say it came from Persia. What about you, Phil? Any opinion on this?’

‘Wish I had. The jaguar theory sounds very strange to me. It would imply so much if it were true. We’d for the first time have to rewrite what we know about history if it turns out to be true.’

‘Are you in or not, Dr. Rhodes?’ Suzanne asked. ‘Don’t back out now.’

‘Okay, my feeling tells me that you’re right, Suzanne. But my mind tells me it can’t be a jaguar. Not that Columbus has probably been the first European in the Americas, it’s also because a jaguar is so hard to trap, so fast and strong, a real beast, and so rare.’

‘Who knows how rare they’ve been two thousand years ago. The Maya feared them more than any other creature. I assume there’s been a reason for that.’

‘Yes, right again. I put another hundred in and say it’s a female lion.’

‘I’ll call up a friend of mine,’ Dr. Valentine said. ‘He works at the zoo in Rome with big cats. I’m sure he will be able to help us.’

The team searched for some more evidence while they waited for the expert, but there was nothing there that was out of the ordinary. All they could say for sure now was that the man had the build of a legionary, but also of a gladiator, while he might as well have been a slave because of the iron ring, that the cat was unusual and that they could not say for sure whether he had been a bestiarius or maybe someone who had been sentenced to die in a cruel way.

‘I can’t wait to examine him,’ Suzanne said. She and Dr. Rhodes were the only ones left at the pit. They were tired from the sun in Italy and waiting for the verdict of the expert would be the last they would do that day.

‘This might turn out to be a detective story,’ Dr. Rhodes said opening a bottle of cola he handed to Suzanne, reaching for the other one he had in his pocket, cool against his chest.

‘That’d be cool. A cold case for what? Two-thousand years? We could be the ones to crack it.’

‘Don’t be that confident all the time. I can’t recall a single passage in any text of any origin concerning the Roman Empire that mentioned a jaguar from the Brazilian jungle dying in the amphitheatre in Capua next to a man who was a gladiator, who was a legionary, who was actually a bestiarius, or a slave sentenced to death.’

‘Is that what being a doctor does to you?’

‘Pardon me?’

‘I mean that you lose that last bit of childish foolishness left inside of you. I don’t mean no offense but it doesn’t seem that you’re too excited about all this, Dr. Rhodes.’

‘No, it’s okay that you say that. It’s an observation, and a true one I might add. But it’s not what being a doctor does to you. When I finished my thesis, I was full of enthusiasm. It’s what numerous excavations do to you, when you’re getting so close to the truth, or at least think so, but all that you’ve got at the end of the day is a pile of evidence you can’t relate and busloads of theories and opposing opinions on every single word of every single essay that you write. You realize that, after starting out as a hunter and devotee of the truth, you’re nothing more than a pencil pusher filling pages for money, who gets weary of thinking things over and over again without ever coming any closer to the truth.’

‘Wow, that sounds bitter. I already want to call off my thesis. Not at all like what you normally hear from all those professors and doctors.’

‘Yes, but it’s the truth. The only truth that I know. I feel obligated to expose you to it.’

‘I wish you didn’t.’

‘You don’t want to know the truth? That’d mean you’ve chosen the wrong career for yourself.’

‘No, it doesn’t. Where is the truth in what we’re doing in the first place? It’s all theories. And I think I’d like to find out the nasty bits all by myself. I know all this talking about bestowing knowledge and all that but for all I know, that’s nonsense. We’ve got to find out things ourselves.’

‘That might be true, but someday, you’ll look back and wish someone had given you direction, so that you could’ve saved time and spared yourself from running into disaster.’

The expert from the zoo arrived and took a closer look at the carcass making fun because there was no flesh on it, saying that he just once wished for a fresher cat. Dr. Rhodes and Suzanne were too tired from the sun to do more than fake a smile. They were looking forward to knowing who was right this time, even though it would be consoling in a way, would the expert state that it was a leopard, not a jaguar. At least it would make sense instead of turning this dig site in a historic crime scene and a case they would have to investigate like detectives.

Dr. Valentine asked his friend in Italian what he thought. From the discussion that emerged it was impossible to tell what they were talking about, as Italians just had that special way of talking. Dr. Rhodes and Suzanne made jokes about that, but they knew perfectly well that they were not really fighting over the topic.

‘I’ve come to a conclusion,’ the expert in his khaki vest said, ‘and it justifies the trip out here after work.’

‘What’s your take on it?’ Suzanne asked.

‘You’re the one who identified this as a jaguar?’

‘Yes, I was the expert until you arrived.’

‘What made you think it was a jaguar? How did you figure?’

‘From the shape of the head. It’s bulkier, I don’t know. Why? You think it’s something else?’

‘Where did you learn that?’

‘I’m self-taught. I was always fascinated with big cats.’

‘I’m sorry, I was just curious. In fact, you’re a natural. What you’ve found and correctly identified here is a jaguar. Please don’t ask me how it ended up here but it is a jaguar for sure.’

‘How is that possible?’ Dr. Rhodes asked disregarding the expert’s request. ‘I mean, is there a theory stating that they ever existed out of the Americas? Has there been a land bridge across the Pacific?’

‘I’m afraid there is no evidence for either. Of course, science could be wrong. The best idea I have is that it’s been brought to Persia by the Chinese. Some experts think the Chinese sailed to the American west coast and you can find jaguars there.’

‘That is really amazing,’ Suzanne said. So far, she had not quite grasped what this meant Now that her opinion had been confirmed, she started to understand the extent of this find. From Basque fishermen to Chinese people sailing to the west coast of America and back, travelling to Persia to sell a beast from an unknown world to the Romans, that was only two out of a million possible explanations.

Dr. Valentine still said he did not believe it, because Ockham’s razor told him that it was too unlikely to be true. Still, he turned over the one-hundred Euros.

‘Because I respect the opinion of my friend,’ he said. ‘I will leave now. There’s another day tomorrow and the jaguar will still be here, like it used to for about two-thousand years now.’

‘So, you finally admit it’s a jaguar.’ Suzanne said with a smile on her face. She was just joking and Dr. Valentine knew. He left them to their own device, and Dr. Rhodes and Suzanne were the only ones left when the sun was already setting.

‘Ever since you first uttered the word, my brain is racing,’ Dr. Rhodes said. ‘I’m trying to imagine a scenario that explains how the jaguar could have ended up here but nothing plausible comes to mind.’

‘I’d say it’s best to hit the archives and see what that produces, if anything at all.’

Yes, that’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow. You keep digging here. I’ve got the feeling we might figure this out together.’

‘I hope so. But we should catch some sleep now.’

‘And dream of a past we never thought happened.’

They left to walk to the hotel that was about a kilometer away from the dig site. Dr. Rhodes was tired but he could not stop thinking about that carcass they had found, so he started checking his books instead of going to bed, keeping his enthusiasm way throughout the night, until he collapsed on his desk.

***

‘Titus?’ Antonius yelled. ‘Can you see anything?’

‘No, not yet,’ Titus replied. ‘How’s the water supply?’

‘Not good. Not at all. I’m afraid if we won’t find Atlantis soon, we’ll die.’

‘Nothing you could do if the gods are not on your side, huh?’

‘True, but still I’d be relieved if we found land soon.’

‘If there is land out here at all.’

‘That’s another issue. Sometimes, I wish I was still back in the forests of Germania, fighting the barbarians.’

‘Now you must be kidding, Antonius,’ Titus said jumping off the front of the small vessel, walking back. ‘Nothing can be worse than those barbarians, standing as tall as mountains, swinging their axes.’

‘I’m not sure about that. What if we really find Atlantis and it turns out to be a land of giants, or of people as advanced as we’re always told? What if you’re out of a chance there, because our methods of warfare are no match to them?’

‘Why are you talking about warfare? We’re not a man more than a dozen here on this little vessel. If they’re a hostile people, nobody back in Rome will ever hear about that.’

Antonius leaned back, trying to stay in the shade of the sail, but the sun was still hot, burning his skin. From the weather he thought they were on a strange ocean he had never been to before, as if they had drifted way south after sailing between Spain and Africa.

The emperor wanted them to find Atlantis, so he had sent legionaries he trusted. They had won several battles, but that did not mean that they could defeat the ocean. It was too powerful. If it wanted to crush you, it would. There was no reasoning there. Antonius had seen a lot in his time, but the waters still scared him the most. Not even a barbarian the size of a mountain, swinging an ax the size of a tree, could shock him. His training and his intellect of a predator could make him prevail. But the water? He hated it, hated swimming, hated the salt drying up his skin, encrusting it, no cure against the thirst and they were running out of water and wine. He knew the ocean was big, vast, but it either had to end somewhere or it would remain terra incognita for some more time, until somebody else proved ignorant enough to try this venture in nothing more than an oversized nutshell.

The men were worn out from the sun, the trip, the fish meals that had made them sick and the all too often empty stomach, not to speak of the dehydration, that made things a lot more difficult. Most of the time they spent sitting around, keeping the boat en route somehow, which was difficult when you did not know where you were going, then saved energy and water if they could.

Things looked grim for them, until Titus went to check whether there was land ahead. He had been doing this every day, ever since they had started, when Antonius had carved the first notch in the wood. Now, there were thirty-seven in it. Thirty-seven. Thinking about that number almost made him lose his mind. Never before had he been on a boat for such a long time, it rocking from left to right all the time, his nausea never really cured, driving him insane. He swore to the gods that he would kiss the ground and praise them, should they see land ahead soon.

‘What is it this time, Titus?’ Antonius asked. ‘Some more blue ahead?’

Titus did not answer. He kept staring out over the water. Antonius called out his name, afraid his companion might have suffered a stroke.

‘Why don’t you answer, Titus?’ he asked standing next to him. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘You see what I see, Antonius?’ Titus asked pointing over the water.

Antonius had to look twice. It looked like something he had forgotten about already. There was a beach, with thick vegetation behind it. As thick as he had never seen before. Internally, he jumped of joy. How wonderful it was to see this land.

‘Land ahead!’ Antonius called out. ‘There’s land ahead! I can’t believe it.’

‘What country is this? Atlantis?’

‘Who cares? The gods have listened to me imploring them to help. They pushed us over the ocean, ending our journey. I’ve got to tell the others.’

‘You do that. I keep staring, in case this land will sink in the ocean. I can’t help it, but this doesn’t look like I imagined Atlantis.’

‘Who cares if this is Atlantis? For my sake, this might as well be the yet unexplored south of Nubia.’

Antonius went to the back of the ship to wake up Marcus, their commander. He had been sleeping, covered with a cloth to protect himself from the sun.

‘Commander Marcus,’ Antonius said pushing him to wake him up.

Marcus looked very tired, his face red from the sun, his lips split from dehydration and the salty fish they had to eat raw for days because they had no wood left for a fire, other than that of the vessel they were depending on.

‘I hope it’s important,’ Marcus said opening his eyes against the brightness of the day.

‘Yes. There’s land ahead.’

‘Really?’ he asked getting up, rushing for the front of the vessel to stare out. ‘Yes, there’s land. But where are we? This doesn’t look like I imagined Atlantis.’

‘I said the same,’ Titus replied. ‘We should prepare to land, commander. There’s but a quarter barrel of water left.’

‘Yes, we will land as soon as possible. How far, what do you say?’

‘Not more than two or three hours if the wind doesn’t turn.’

‘Issue rations to the men, then order them to put on their uniforms and armor. Full Armor and sword. If we see natives, we want to make an impression.’

‘Yes, commander.’

The men were excited, they chatted with great enthusiasm as the vessel neared the new land. Most believed this to be the real, the mythical Atlantis, with its great buildings and palaces lying right behind the thick vegetation, huge temples there, big squares, fruits and other indulgences in abundance, blonde inhabitants, muscular Greeks that descend directly from Hercules and had immigrated centuries ago. Antonius had heard different stories about Atlantis but he had heard this version before as well. There was no consensus, as nobody had ever seen it, hence the mission.

What scared him was that this might not be Atlantis, land of democracy, science and an educated elite – that this might be virgin land, inhabited by barbarians like they had them in the north of Europe. What if that was the case, what if the people were wild, like they had heard in stories of far-away countries. Like the Amazons, or the warrior pygmy in the south of Africa. The idea hampered his enthusiasm. Because of that, he was glad they would have their armor on and their swords in hand when they landed. The only dreadful moment would be getting off the vessel. Bad memories came back to him.

Water, the element he despised the most, giving life, taking it at will, like it almost had taken his life back at the Rhine, when he had fallen in during a battle against the Germanic people, their pagan women throwing the heads of the fallen at them, stabbing those that were wounded and creeping over the muddy ground, mutilating them, laughing out loud at their misery. Antonius was fighting the weight of the iron pulling at him like the hands of nymphs, pulling at him, trying to drag him down into the abyss. Somehow, he had managed not to breathe in the water, to take off his armor and swim ashore, where yet another barbarian had been waiting for him, hacking at him with his ax, not slowing down, screaming like a wild monster, like a terrible demon, seeking destruction. Antonius had avoided him until he could no longer, had uttered a scream himself, of purest terror, of hatred, he had brought his gladius up, summoning all the power in his body, to strike, strike, strike, to chop and chop until he could no longer and passed out, halfway in the dirty water of the pagan river that marked the border between enlightenment and purest agony until Titus had pulled him out.

The men were ready to disembark, waiting at the front until they were close enough to the beach to jump off.

‘Disembark!’ Marcus yelled.

In full armor, shield and sword in hand, by deploying all their power, one after another jumped off the vessel. To make their point clear. Wherever the Romans were, their power and reign would prevail. If the people of Atlantis were as civilized and superior as the legends described them, they would understand. If they, or other hostile people were awaiting them, they would know it was better not to mess with the legionaries of the Roman Empire.

‘By the will of our great emperor,’ Marcus called out, ‘I declare this land discovered by the Roman people.’

The legionaries cheered, they behaved as if there was a battle coming up. It was to make impress, but also because they did not know how to behave any different than that. And of course because they were dehydrated, tired and hungry.

Antonius stared out at the thick vegetation. He could not see anything there, he could not see farther than about thirty meters. The rest was a massive blur of colors unknown to him, seemingly unnatural, most of it green in all kinds of shades.

‘What sounds are coming from this forest?’ Titus asked. It was indeed strange sounds, like howling men. The vegetation seemed alive.

‘I’ve never heard anything quite like it before,’ Antonius said. ‘Where to, Commander Marcus?’

‘Three men stay behind to guard the vessel and catch some fish, in case there’s nothing to hunt in these forests. The rest of us stay close together. I don’t want anyone get lost.’

The men uttered a battle cry to make sure they had understood. With their swords, they cut a path through the thick bushes and trees of unknown names, the sounds of howling men becoming louder and louder, the farther they went into the forest.

Antonius did not feel well. He trusted his comrades but a hostile land that you did not know anything about, that was a bad start. He could remember how the barbarians had used their superior knowledge of their home country, that consisted mostly of deep forests, black and sinister, where you could hide in every corner, behind every bush or rock, to defeat an army that would have annihilated you in the open field in a skirmish that was over after half an hour. He could not help it, it was nothing but a bad feeling, telling him that they were already watched. Hundreds of eyes, crawling over them, both of men and animals, as if they were searching for a weakness, trying to determine whether this armor would protect or where to aim with arrows or claws to pierce through it.

They marched for an hour, not seeing anything, not finding any water or prey to hunt, when Marcus called them to a stop. It was hot, humidity so high there was dew on their armors and swords, pearls of sweat on their skin. The men were worn out already, but not only from the temperature, also from the terrain, that made every meter a new challenge.

‘You think we’ll find Atlantis behind that tree?’ Titus asked pointing at a big tree smiling. ‘If this is Atlantis, where is the big, circular military harbor? Where are the temples, that are reportedly bigger than anything we’ve built in Rome? And wouldn’t there have to be villages, or roads connecting them with Atlantis, should this be the back country?’

‘I’m with you, Titus. I don’t know where we are, but it’s not Africa or Arabia. I think the Carthaginians have never been here. If you ask me, we’ve sailed through our world into a new one.’

‘Just assuming you’re right, what will await us here?’

‘Something we’re not prepared for.’

The march through the forest consumed more and more of their energy. One of the legionaries accidentally found out that some of the wood was not that but something else, more flexible, and when you cut through it, some water poured out. At least that solved their water problem.

‘There!’ somebody called out. ‘Look at the trees. There are little men. They’re howling and screaming.’

He pointed at monkeys, sitting in the trees. They looked like hairy small men with tails to the Romans, who had only heard stories of them, as they had never made it far enough across the desert or into India to cross the Hydaspes like Alexander. They had heard of those small men but never seen them with their own eyes.

‘Stand back,’ Marcus ordered. ‘I will find out what tongue they’re speaking.’

‘Be careful,’ Antonius said. ‘They might be armed.’

Marcus stepped up, putting his sword away to demonstrate his good will and intention to establish communication, not war.

‘We represent the Roman Empire,’ he said staring up at the screaming monkeys in the trees. ‘We are here in search of Atlantis. Who are you? What is your tribe called?’

The monkeys did not reply in any language understandable to the Romans but screamed and climbed and jumped through the trees with great artistry that astounded the legionaries. Marcus tried some more communication, but they would not answer, until one of the monkeys climbed down from the tree, carefully approaching him, touching his armor, his clothes, his arms, with great curiosity. Marcus slowly extended his hand, petting the monkey’s head.

‘Are they real men?’ Titus asked.

‘No, they’re animals. Very nice animals. I like them.’

He lifted the monkey up and  petted it, forgetting for a moment where they were, until he put it back on the tree.

‘We will return now and mark our track,’ Marcus ordered. ‘It is getting dark soon and if we camp out here, we have no supplies or protection.’

The legionaries started back through the forest, not knowing what sort of country they had found, still feeling that the forest had eyes to it, was staring at them all the time. Once, Antonius stopped, he drew his gladius and got away from the group to explore what he thought was monitoring them. He looked at the ground, definitely seeing traces of some animal that had been there just recently. He could not identify the traces, but he was skilled enough to track them to a tree, where he looked up, wondering what demon could climb a tree like that. There were deep scars in the bark and he feared to see the face of a monster, as it jumped down for him, but seeing nothing but a big snake up there several meters long.

‘I don’t think I like this forest,’ he said to himself to calm down. It helped hearing his voice over the sounds of the monkeys, or hairy pygmy as they thought, and several other animals that were roaming the forest. The sounds, they reminded him of the screaming and yelling barbarians in the dark Germanic woods, with their painted faces and their huge axes and swords.

‘Where did you go?’ Titus asked when Antonius caught up with them almost back at the beach.

‘I went into the woods. Found some traces of a big animal.’

‘A hog maybe? Something we can hunt?’

‘I’m afraid not. I think it was a big animal, a predator, lurking out there for us. Maybe even a demon. The traces ended at a tree.’

‘A tree? I heard those leopards the Africans are catching and selling to the amphitheatres can climb trees. They call them the tree climbers.’

‘Yes, it could be a leopard. As far as I know, they fear them in Persia as well, even in Bactria. Who knows how far their territory reaches. A beast like that can survive everywhere.’

‘I sure hope there are no leopards here. I once saw a bestiarius fighting against one. That was at the coliseum. The poor man. He had no chance against that ghastly monster.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen one of them too. Back at Capua. Not an animal you want to face in the wild.’

‘The man this leopard killed weighed at least three-hundred pounds. A real mountain, but the cat took care of him in no time.’

The legionaries who had stayed back at the vessel had caught some fish and squid, so that they had something to eat, but nothing they had been hoping for, as neither of the men could still enjoy the taste of anything that was coming out of the ocean. Antonius talked to Marcus, as they were trying to determine what they were supposed to do now.

‘I agree with you,’ Marcus said, ‘that this doesn’t look like Atlantis. Judging from the stories, exaggerated or not, there should be at least something Greek here.’

‘I think this is a new world. We’ve discovered something that has been unknown before. I think our emperor will be mad when he hears this.’

‘Yes, but what can we do? We were the first men to cross the ocean and it wasn’t easy, so there is nothing to blame on us.’

‘I hope the emperor will be as understanding as you are.’

‘I was just glad we reached land, because I can’t see no water anymore. I suggest we search the woods again tomorrow, but maybe we should try a different direction.’

‘What if we sail along the coast and see if we can spot any cities?’

‘That is a good idea we will save for later. Once we’re sure there is nothing here, we can still sail north along the coast.’

‘Did you feel what I felt when we walked through the woods?’

‘You mean that somebody, or something, was watching us?’

‘Yes. You felt it too?’

‘Maybe, it was our hairy friends with the long tails?’

‘I found tracks. I’m not an expert, but they looked like leopard tracks.’

‘You think they live here?’

‘They could live here. I heard they live in Bactria, India, so who knows where else as well.’

‘Yes, you’re right. We should be careful. What I hope is that we meet people, some locals, who’ve heard of the Roman Empire before. That will make things easier for us.’

They tried to sleep throughout the night, but Antonius knew he could not because his body was waiting for a fight, so he agreed to be on the watch. He did not only guard camp and vessel but also used the time to walk along the beach, along the green wall mother nature had built, apparently to keep anything human out of the woods.

The moon was up, tainting the country in silvery light, the sounds of the jungle still loud and threatening. Antonius felt that this was no place for them, a hostile land, with all that heat, the lack of water and prey and those predators, that would not show, only lurk out there like spirits or demons, waiting for them to make a bad move. To strike at them.

The only thing that he enjoyed that night, for he despised the heat, being from Ostia, where there was always a mild breeze coming from the ocean, even during the hottest summers, when in Rome the heat accumulated between the seven hills, like this was hell on earth, was the walking. He felt the sand beneath his feet, as it was giving way to his weight, increased by the full armor he was wearing, the iron almost burning his skin because of the heat.

Just as Antonius started tiring, wanting to turn around, walk back and wake up Titus to be on the watch, he saw something in the distance. At first, it looked like a big rock in the water, but because of the light of the moon, Antonius could distinguish the details. Yes, it was a big turtle, that was coming ashore. He had seen turtles back at the Mediterranean Sea and it was a good feeling seeing something familiar in this strange and new world. It made him feel a lot better on the instant. He stood there and watched, not getting any closer, as he did not want to disturb the turtle. He knew they could make good use of its meat but then he estimated the weight at eight to nine-hundred pounds, maybe even a thousand. Even if he would manage to kill it, of which he was convinced, there was no chance to land it. He would have to wake up all the men and they would be mad at him, as most despised the taste of turtle anyway, so they would not be all that enthusiastic about being up almost the entire rest of the night taking it apart. They also had no salt left to conserve it, so there was no point in slaying this turtle. Antonius would have done it, would it have been smaller.

He stayed and watched, as it calmed him down, until suddenly he had a bad feeling. He drew his gladius and took a look around, but there was nothing he could see, which did not surprise him. He wanted to ask if somebody was out there, as it would have been not that easy to surprise him coming from the thick vegetation. There was no chance to ask, as a predator charged, but not at him. At the huge turtle.

Never before had Antonius seen anything move that fast. It was a big cat and looked like a leopard from the distance, about two-hundred pounds in weight. This beast had the courage of a semi-god, charging at the huge turtle, reaching it before it could retreat into its shell. What happened next was purest barbarity. The cat bit into the neck and ripped the entire head of the turtle off without even trying. What the beast did next was bite into one of the flappers and drag the turtle ashore, out of the water, all the eight, nine-hundred pounds of it, if not a thousand. You would have expected any beast in this world to struggle with such weight, especially if it was roughly the size of a man, but this demon from the woods did not struggle at all.

‘What are you?’ Antonius asked himself and could not take his eyes off, could not stop watching this barbarian creature, that was so elegant and gracious in its cruelty.

The mysterious cat dragged the turtle until it vanished in the thick and black jungle. The sounds increased, as if the dwellers of the woods knew what was going on. Antonius still held his gladius, knowing that he could not have prevailed against such a mean beast. He knew they were not welcome in this world. They would have to fight for their place. Antonius had seen so much in his time, but such beasts still scared him the most. With eyes on the back of his head, he went back to the vessel, the jungle to his right still in uproar.

The others listened to his story of a giant leopard, or a creature much like a leopard, but nobody believed it could drag a turtle weighing a thousand pounds.

‘You must’ve been mistaken,’ Titus said. ‘It was dark after all.’

‘The moon was up,’ Antonius said. ‘You know I’m not an amateur. I know what I’ve seen. What I wanted to tell you is that you should be more careful than ever.’

‘It is not the beasts that scare me,’ Marcus said, ‘but that we haven’t seen any locals so far. We will leave now and search for pagans living here. Or blonde Greeks at best.’

The legionaries put their full armor on again, took some supplies with them, as they would have to cook and eat them soon without salt. This time, they marched north, or as accurately north as the jungle permitted.

For hours they walked, until they finally reached a path through the jungle. It was not a game path but looked like one used by humans. Marcus ordered them to be careful, as pagan tribes had the tendency to attack before asking questions.

‘I won’t have that here,’ Marcus said. ‘If they threaten you, you throw the pilum first.’

‘I don’t like this,’ Antonius said. ‘It reminds me of those paths through the Germanic woods. Narrow, with thick vegetation on all sides, so that you can’t spot any attackers in time to defend yourself.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Tortoise formation, until we spot any pagans.’

‘That will wear us out.’

‘Better than being killed,’ Titus agreed. ‘A little discipline won’t do any harm out here. I feel the sea has made us weak and careless.’

‘Okay, you convinced me,’ Marcus said and ordered his men to make up the smallest tortoise formation anyone on earth had ever seen.

It was true, the formation cost energy, as they had to keep their shields up at all times, ventilation was bad and they moved slower, but Antonius felt that something was about to happen. He knew when he was watched and prepared for an attack, telling the others to do likewise.

Nobody had spotted them. They had blended with the vegetation. It was an arrow striking into Marcus’s shield that told Antonius he was right.

‘Contact!’ Marcus yelled. ‘Keep the formation. Use the pilum at will.’

Screams. This time not from the friendly monkeys. This time, it came out of the throats of men, but they were no blonde Greeks, no descendants of Hercules, or they had been away from civilization for too long. Slender men attacked the Romans, with dark skin, strange hair and almost no clothes on, throwing their spears at them or firing arrows. They screamed and made a big fuss but their weapons could not pierce through the Roman armor.

Titus was the first to open the formation for a quick throw of his pilum. As the pagans did not carry shields or small ones at most, he aimed for the throat and killed the first of the wild men, even though the pilum was never meant to kill. That enraged the other wild men, they screamed louder, fired more arrows and retreated in terror.

‘There might be more of them around,’ Marcus said, ‘So don’t open the formation and proceed.’

The jungle was still moving but they could not see any more pagans, which did not mean that they were not there, but they decided to examine the man Titus had killed. From the clothes and the strange tattoos on his skin the Romans could not tell what culture that was. They had heard the Scythians were tattooed but the patterns looked different, as if they were Celtic. What disturbed them most were the primitive weapons.

‘They’re naked barbarians,’ Marcus said. ‘But they don’t scare me in their clumsiness.’

‘What are we supposed to do now?’ Titus asked. ‘Proceed? I don’t think they’re citizens of Atlantis.’

‘Forget about Atlantis. I think we’re farther from it than when we started our journey. We sailed and missed it.’

‘You want to explore this country?’ Antonius asked. ‘We’re not enough men for that. What if they’re already plotting on how to kill us?’

‘Then they should prepare for a surprise. Just look at those helpless pagans,’ Marcus said throwing a pilum killing a pagan lurking in a bush.

The legionaries were not excited about exploring this hostile country, but they were also not scared or intimidated of the skill the locals had demonstrated so far. What they knew was that they had definitely not seen their elite warriors so far, so they had to be careful.

Experienced as they were, they could now follow the paths and tracks through the jungle, finding a village soon, where the people were speaking a strange tongue they did not understand. The people were afraid of their armor. Marcus explained in Latin that they were representing the Roman Empire and demanded to speak to their king or emperor, but the peasants did not understand. They ran off or they looked at them with ignorant curiosity after getting over the shock of seeing such aliens. A woman touched one of the legionaries and he shoved her in the mud, but Marcus told them to behave until they knew what was going on and not to start a conflict.

Establishing relations with the wild people proved difficult, as neither of the legionaries was an expert on foreign languages. Neither even spoke a truly exotic language, as they thought Carthaginian would not be of any use. The language the barbarians spoke sounded so strange to them they doubted it was a language at all. As there was nothing to gain like that and they still had time, Marcus ordered his men to proceed further, as he assumed this was nothing but a small village out on the countryside, not a major town.

Somebody brought up the idea that the men who had attacked them had not been warriors but hunters, mistaking them for animals or potential prey because of their armor. That would have explained why they had been following them along the path, hidden in the woods. Antonius started developing a sense for this new territory, so he knew they were there again. The legionaries switched back to turtle formation, but the hunters did not dare attack them. It was as if they wanted them to get farther into the woods, farther away from the vessel, that was the only thing in the world that could save them.

‘Stop!’ Marcus ordered. ‘I hear something.’

He left the formation and stepped up, listening closely, never lowering his shield or gladius, in case somebody tried attacking him. What he heard was the noise of thousands of people who were celebrating. He told his legionaries and they approached the town after Marcus killed another of the hunters trying to surprise them.

‘Nice shot,’ Titus said.

‘Yes, but the tip is bent. I can’t use it again.’

‘I hope they don’t take offense in this,’ Antonius said. ‘So far, they might’ve gotten the impression that we’re invaders.’

‘We are invaders.’ Marcus said. ‘From what we’ve seen so far, this might be a prospect for Roman invasion. Once we’ve established contact with their king, we’ll search for valuable natural resources.’

Marius, one of the legionaries, was an expert on resources and knew where to find them. When Marcus asked him if he had seen anything worth being checked out so far, he said there were spots that looked like you could find gold there but that they would have to take samples to be sure.

‘Where’d you learn that by the way?’ Titus asked Marius.

‘My father was a goldsmith in Palestine. You learn a thing or two when you’re watching.’

‘Yes, that is true. But wouldn’t it be difficult to mine here?’

‘Wherever there’s gold, it is worth being dug up.’

Suspicion became a fact when they  reached the town. The jungle suddenly stopped. There were sheds there for the common people but also temples and pyramids like the legionaries had seen them in Egypt, only smaller in size and not yellowish in color, with steps. There were rich ornaments, some of them again looking like those of the Celtics, thousands of people apparently celebrating something, enraged by the unfamiliar sight of the Roman legionaries.

‘They don’t like us,’ Titus said. ‘I feel we’re disturbing a ritual or something like that.’

‘Does anyone understand a word?’ Marcus asked.

‘We don’t even know what language that is supposed to be,’ Antonius said when he thought he heard some Carthaginian words and believed he was mistaken. ‘I suggest we find the king and talk to him.’

‘Good idea. They won’t try anything other than killing us and we know that already.’

‘You will need a present of some kind.’

‘We’ve got anything with us?’

They had nothing but olive oil. Somebody suggested the present of a pilum, as they looked good, but Antonius said that might be understood as a declaration of war.

The Romans made their way through this city, that was home to about ten-thousand people, seeing so many things they had never seen before. The king, or whatever their term for their leader was, was at the pyramid, identifiable by the many gold he was wearing on his body. Even if the pyramid was smaller than an Egyptian, it was still impressive, especially given that such pagans had built it, with no clothes on and tattooed skin.

The legionaries stopped in front of the steps and Marcus stepped out of the formation, that closed behind him again immediately. He ascended the stairs to the king, his gladius with him, a hand resting on it inconspicuously, a bottle of olive oil in the other hand as a token of friendship. The king, next to the gold, was wearing fur that looked similar to that of a leopard and reminded Antonius of the predator he had seen last night.

‘Look at that fur,’ he said to Titus. ‘It looks like the animal I’ve seen last night.’

‘If they can kill them, how dangerous could they be?’

‘You know as good as I do that experience is everything. It might have taken generations to develop the skill to slay those beasts.’

‘Or they skin those that they find dead.’

‘That is possible as well, yes. I don’t like this situation. You feel this? As if those pagans are planning something.’

‘You mean they’ll assault us?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Then we should be careful.’

‘Keep your eyes everywhere. And try to defend Marcus if they assault him.’

Marcus approached the king, who was surrounded by priests, or so they looked like, with helmets on supposed to make them look like birds. Behind them were women wearing common clothes, then young men who seemed terrified. There were no soldiers so far, or any of the hunters they had killed in the woods. Antonius tried to figure this culture out but found himself inapt to do so. He had no idea what the altar behind the king was good for. It was a rough, big rock, strange in color. For a moment, Antonius thought it was blood but wondered how it could have ended up there.

‘I am here representing the Roman Empire in this new world,’ Marcus said standing in front of the king, who kept a straight face. ‘Our intention is to establish peaceful relations either side will approve of. In the woods, we defended ourselves against the men attacking us. Have you heard of the greatness of the Roman Empire?’

The king replied something in his unspeakable tongue, the priests then talking to him. Marcus understood nothing but assumed he had asked them if they could translate.

‘I bring this as a taken of friendship and peace,’ he said offering the bottle of olive oil, ‘giving you this precious oil from our homeland of Italy.’

Reluctantly, the king accepted the bottle, looking at it with suspicion, then handed it to the priests, who examined it further. Marcus, while pretending to pay full attention to the king or chief, searched his surroundings for potential attackers.

‘Do you accept our offer?’ he asked.

This time, the king gave a signal and what happened was strange to the Romans, as they had merely heard of such cruelty, that happened in barbarian countries, Scythia or Britannia, but that had nothing to do with their understanding of culture or civilization.

The priests forced one of the young men, who did not defend himself, to lay down on the altar, staring up at the sun, uttering words, before one of the priests rammed a stone knife in his chest. A terrible ritual was in progress and the Romans were tempted to draw their swords.

‘Don’t do anything,’ Marcus told his men. ‘I don’t want to start a war if I don’t have to. Not until reinforcements are here.’

Disgusted, they watched. The Romans were used to cruelty, as they had their gladiators, they also knew about the rituals in barbarian lands, but this was pointless violence beyond their understanding. Antonius could not understand why they were doing this, killing young men without a chance to defend themselves. That was the difference to the gladiators, who were given the means to fight and were supposed to.

What the priests did next surprised the legionaries even more. They grabbed the dead man, carried him to the stairs and threw him down, right at them. According to their training, they did not move. Antonius and Titus in the first row stopped the body with their shields and there it lay, bleeding onto their feet.

‘This will escalate,’ Antonius told Titus, the grip on his gladius tightening.

‘Yes, you are right, my friend.’

The priests objected, that was evident without understanding their language. They demanded the body to roll down all the way, so that the women could pick it up, who were waiting behind the legionaries, screaming in rage. The legionaries would not move. Their commander had not ordered them to.

‘What is this barbarity about?’ Marcus demanded from the king. ‘Why are you doing this?’

The king said something to him, then the priests approached Marcus, trying to drag him to the altar. He resisted, was stronger than them, so the priests started yelling at him.

‘Don’t do anything yet,’ Marcus ordered. He wanted to tell the priests that he was not a sacrifice, that they would not kill him, but they would not let go of him, the king insisting now, until Marcus pushed one of the priests to the ground. Everything went silent. Nobody uttered a word. Then, the king screamed orders.

Out of nowhere, warriors appeared,. They wore helmets that looked like the heads of the beast Antonius had seen, but no armor and wooden swords with stone blades. At least a hundred of them charged at the Romans, who kept their formation, except for one individual, who was without protection. Marcus drew his gladius, awaiting to be attacked, repelling two warriors but missing another one coming from his back. Antonius reacted. He threw his sword, killing the warrior before he could ram his stone sword in Marcus’s back. Marcus ripped the precious gladius out of the dying warrior and ran back to the formation of the legionaries, who were fighting back the warriors with great effectiveness.

‘Thanks,’ Marcus said handing the gladius back.

‘Thanks for bringing the sword back.’

The warriors knew what they were doing but it seemed that their technique was based on causing mayhem instead of effective killing. The Romans had learned their lesson from fighting against some of the most dangerous nations in the known world. Hannibal had taught them what tactics meant and how important it was to keep the formation and not to abandon it in a moment of presumable dominance. Cannae, that still rang true to legionaries all around the Roman Empire.

It was close, but the warriors of the king did not manage to kill any of the legionaries. They in turn killed fifty of them until the rest of them retreated. the city becoming a big frenzy of screaming people, running around in all directions.

‘What are we going to do now?’ Antonius asked.

‘We’ll get the king, take him hostage,’ Marcus replied. ‘Or we cut his head off. I’m not willing to be respectful anymore.’

The king and the priests were still on top of the pyramid, afraid of those metal men who had just humiliated their military elite. The tortoise formation was still efficient and appropriate when they approached the top of the pyramid, as arrows were fired at them. The priests tried to attack them with their stone knives but a quick strike of the sword took care of them. That left only the king and his hostages, who crouched terrified, awaiting something that would never come. The legionaries did not pay attention to them.

‘You will come with us,’ Marcus said to the king, who stared at them in terror. He refused to come with them until Marcus lost his temper. He cut his throat, let the man bleed, until he cut the head clear off and threw the body down the steps, where it was awaited at the bottom by the elderly, women and children, who started taking the body apart.

‘What are they doing?’ Titus asked until the question was answered. From the top of the pyramid, they could see the many fires, where suspiciously looking meat was roasted, and to where the extremities of the king were carried.

‘They’re cannibals,’ Antonius said. ‘What do we do now? Slay them, salt the ground, so that nothing will ever grow here again?’

‘Treatment like that is for noble people, like the Carthaginians,’ Marcus said. ‘We don’t have salt anyway. Set the pyramid and some sheds on fire. That will keep them busy.’

This time, nobody objected and wanted to try and establish peaceful relations to avoid war. The legionaries were only few, but they were an elite, they were determined, and they would never give up.

They did as told, slaying some people trying to stop them. That did not give them a bad conscience, as they had not started this. A great portion of the town was on fire when they were done but most of the pagans were still busy with their rituals, that disgusted the Romans to a point where they considered killing them all.

Marcus ordered them back through the jungle, to the vessel, that was their only chance to survive, should the indigenous people assemble an army to drive them away and seek revenge. What they saw when they went back shocked them. The vessel was covered in arrows, several dead hunters lying in the sand. They expected the worst, but the three men who had stayed behind to guard the vessel had done just that without getting themselves killed.

Quickly, they arranged for some fresh water they luckily could find in a puddle that was like a small pond some yards into the jungle. They fished and prepared for another attack. It came. During the night. Several dozen of the pagans attacked the vessel, some trying to sneak up from the water.

The Romans knew all the nasty tricks. It was the sheer mass of people that threatened to sooner or later overwhelm them. The pagans tried several attacks during the night, robbing their sleep. They would not grant them time to recover.

Antonius agreed to be on the watch again during the night, when the pagans finally stopped shooting their arrows at them. For hours, he stared out into the night, having his eyes and ears everywhere. He did not see any monsters, but in the early morning hours, he thought he saw a man standing there in the woods. What was special about him was that he did not look like one of the naked barbarians. Antonius believed he was wearing an armor he had seen before. But that was not possible. He thought his mind must have played  trick on him.

‘I thought he was wearing a Carthaginian armor,’ Antonius told the others in the morning. ‘The man looked like a Carthaginian warrior.’

‘You must’ve been dreaming,’ Titus said. ‘What should a Carthaginian do here?’

‘Who knows if they’ve made it to this place before us,’ Marcus said. ‘Show me the spot.’

Together, in full armor they had not taken off for a single moment, they went to the spot where Antonius thought he had seen the warrior. They could not believe what they saw. A message had been pinned to the tree, with a knife that was emblazoned with a deer head.

‘How is that even possible?’ Antonius asked.

Marcus would not respond. He took the knife and the message, that was written in Latin, but not like an uneducated barbarian would write it.

‘Romans, go home,’ he read. ‘You have no business in this hostile land.’

‘It has to be the Carthaginians,’ Antonius said. ‘They must be somewhere around, hiding after Carthage had been destroyed.’

‘It seems like that.’

The other legionaries looked at the message with great curiosity. They discussed what this could mean, concluding that it was unlikely any of those wild people could speak and write Latin. Their best explanation was that Carthaginians had made it across the ocean before them, now living in the same woods as those naked barbarians.

‘How did they survive out here?’ Titus asked.

‘Who cares?’ Marcus said. ‘They won’t tell us. I’d suggest we sail back to Rome and come back prepared but I don’t want to do that empty-handed.’

‘I know where this is going,’ Antonius said. ‘You want to attack those pagans and repel them, so that we can at least dig for natural resources or steal their gold.’

‘Anyone here who objects?’

Nobody raised a hand, so it was sealed. It was madness, going back into the woods, nine legionaries in a tortoise formation. Marcus knew that the emperor would not be pleased if they would not at least report what treasures this country was yielding. Antonius was not enthusiastic about going back into the woods. He believed that the barbarians would assemble more men and attack them and, as soon as they had figured out the Roman fighting technique, they would be in trouble. Nine men, that was madness. He would not say anything.

The first barbarians lurked in the woods. A group of one-hundred men the legionaries let attack first, fire all their arrows, until they closed in on them and killed three dozen of them in hand-to-hand combat.

They took a different path this time, stopping to give Marius time to take samples. The hunters attacked them again, helpless in their nakedness, and soon dead. The legionaries started feeling tired, they were not immortal, their reputation did not proceed them there, scaring the barbarians enough so that they would retreat to their sheds.

Claudius was wounded by an arrow that had apparently been poisoned, as the small wound would not have killed him under normal circumstances. Color departed his face and he looked like he was dying soon, hardly able to hold his shield up.

Marcus had a plan, but he would not risk the life of any of his legionaries pointlessly, so they started back, their tortoise formation showing signs of decay for the first time.

The night was exactly like the first night, the barbarians attacking them all the time but not making it aboard the vessel. The problem was that they could bring in fresh troops. The Romans though were struggling with so much. Weather, shortage of water and food, diseases, poison. Claudius looked as if he would not survive the night. That enraged Marcus. After they had fought back another wave of barbarians storming at them, he charged into the woods, screaming.

‘Carthaginian? Where are you? Is this one of your tricks? Retaliation for the Punic Wars? You’re sending demons after us because we salted the ground in Carthage? What is it? What?’

The Carthaginians answered. Antonius saw another one during the night, as he attached a new message to a tree. It read the same text, and Marcus crumbled the paper in his hands. Claudius had died after he had screamed at the woods.

‘Retaliation?’ Antonius asked knowing that there was no other way, wishing that they were already on their way back home, sailing north, then east, toward Rome.

‘Yes. Retaliation. We summon the troops.’

Antonius did not ask him what troops he was referring to. They were eleven men now, not even a legion, only legionaries in a hostile, strange world they did not understand.

Two men remained to guard the vessel. The rest of them went to the city, of which a great portion had burnt down from the fire, the rest burning when the Romans raged, killed, slew, destroyed it and whoever lived there. The warriors wearing the beast heads had no chance against them. After two hours, they were done with this city, their armors not shining anymore. They were coated in blood.

‘They bleed like us,’ Titus said. ‘But they’re not human beings. They’re something else.’

‘What do you think they are?’ Antonius asked him removing dark flesh from the blade of his gladius, throwing it on a pile of bodies, watching the dancing flames, that increasingly produced terrible smell.

‘I don’t know. But they don’t deserve any better.’

‘You say they’re not human?’

‘Yes, I think they’re not.’

‘But what makes me feel ashamed is that they taught us barbarity, nothing else. It wasn’t us who influenced them, who brought them the light of civilization.’

‘You think that light is for everybody?’

Antonius considered that, thinking about the many villages and cities that they had burnt down on three continents, now making it four. He knew the light of civilization was not for everybody when he recalled the images.

Marcus was not done yet. They found two other villages father up the path they burnt down as well. The people fled into the woods afraid of the greatness of the Roman Empire, represented by nine men.

When they were back at the vessel, there were no traces of a fight, but traces of blood, scratches in the wood, two legionaries missing. Marcus asked who had done this but they could not see any barbarians there. Instead, Antonius identified the tracks of the demon beast he had seen at the beach. That was evidence enough that not even the gods wanted them in this country. Marcus realized that they could not stay and rage forever, so he agreed that they would steal supplies and water for their passage back the following day and get back to Rome as long as they could.

What changed his mind was the night, when the barbarians threw some more soldiers and warriors into battle to defeat the invaders. In the morning, they found a last warning that supposedly came from the Carthaginians, but the Romans were not at the end of their rope. Their best idea was to loot another village in retaliation instead of trying to catch and find supplies themselves. The legionaries agreed and went into battle.

The first village they destroyed was poor and had little supplies, so they tried another one, slaying the entire population of one-hundred and thirty-seven people. On their way back, Flavius was bitten by a snake, started sweating and was dead an hour later, his body inflated from an allergic reaction. They were seven legionaries left now, when Antonius called everybody to a stop. He had stopped because of a set of eyes he had seen flickering in the woods, knowing right on the instant it was the monster he had seen.

‘You want to kill it?’ Marcus asked.

‘I’ll try,’ Antonius said taking the last pilum they had. Carefully, he approached the beast, mesmerized by the eyes, drawing him in. Once he was close enough, he was almost too fascinated to kill this creature, until he remembered what it had done to his comrades. He fired the pilum, so hard he thought he could have pierced through any armor, but there was no way to surprise the monster. It uttered a roar, jumped a tree, climbed up and jumped from one tree to the next, vanishing in the woods.

‘We move on,’ Marcus ordered.

The woods were against them. It was hotter than ever when the legionaries approached the last village on their list. It was bigger than the others and they wanted to loot and burn it down. The people tried to defend themselves against the Romans, but they were not strong enough. The armor they wore was still mythical to them, as if it was impenetrable, but then the sight of seven men was not that intimidating anymore, not that it had been much better when nine men had been marching through the woods.

Once they had what they needed, the marching became a lot more demanding. They tried to make some of the locals who were still alive carry some of the supplies for them but they either did not understand or refused, so Marcus had them killed.

On their way back, Antonius hoped he would have the chance to see another of the monsters, so that he could try and kill it, skin it and take the fur back to Rome to prove they existed. He felt that one of them was around, so he watched attentively when Marius was taking another sample.

‘This is looking promising,’ Marius said. ‘I think there’s gold in these woods.’

‘Just hurry up,’ Marcus told him. ‘I feel like we should make our way back to the vessel soon.’

‘Just another moment,’ Marius said and went farther away from the men resting, drinking some water out of the strange plants, so that they would not use up what needed for the journey. Their formation was loose now, as it was impossible to maintain a tortoise formation and carry sacks of supplies they did not even know what they were.

Antonius wanted to say that one of the beasts was coming closer but before he could state his concern, one of them jumped at Marius, ripping him down to the ground, cutting his screams off immediately. The other legionaries rushed to help him, but the beast already dragged him away, farther into the woods. It was hard to believe how this creature could kill him that fast and run carrying his weight.

‘Throw your pila!’ Marcus ordered but they did not have any left, so he threw his gladius, almost killing the creature, missing it by inches. The sword stuck in a tree, the monster was gone.

The Romans had no time to be angry, as they could hear the sounds of at least a thousand people approaching them from three sides.

‘Contact!’ Titus yelled. He had spotted them first.

They rushed into a formation to defend themselves, when the entire woods started moving around them, terrible songs coming out of the throats of numerous warriors who had come to kill the iron invaders.

‘Retreat to the ship?’ Antonius asked watching them closing in on them, firing the first arrows.

‘No,’ Marcus answered. ‘We’d be dead within two or three days without supplies.’

‘And what do you order, commander?’

‘I say we give them hell for as long as we can and then die like the legionaries we are. In dignity.’

‘It was an honor fighting with you,’ Titus said.

There was no time for more words, as the warriors charged at them, their stone swords lifted high into the air. Upon impact, when the arrows stopped coming in, the Romans varied their formation to a line. And they raged. They killed with great accuracy, dropping man after man after man, until the first of them were killed, their bodies dragged away.

They did their best to repel them, but this time there were too many barbarians, they were not terrified by the armor anymore, and now that they knew the Romans were no gods, that they were mortal, that advantage was gone as well. Antonius, Marcus and Titus fought shoulder-to-shoulder, doing all they could, but they knew that this was it. No matter how many warriors they would kill, there would be three, four, ten coming after them. They had no opportunity to change their tactics when Titus was wounded.

He brought his shield and sword up for the last time, when something strange happened. A horn rang out. It was a military horn, like they were used on proper battlefields. The barbarian warriors seemed terrified all of a sudden. They stopped right in motion, waiting for what would happen next. Marcus checked to his left, where some more warriors charged. But they were no barbarians.

‘This can’t be real,’ he said out loud when the Carthaginians came to their rescue, wearing their distinctive armors. There were at least five-hundred of the Carthaginians and their swords raged among the lines of barbarians. They killed effectively, stone throwers firing at them from the distance. That motivated the Romans, so they fought as well. Only five minutes later, it was over. The jungle was plastered with dead bodies, not a single Carthaginian among them.

Because they were not aware what the Carthaginians were up to, Marcus ordered Antonius and the wounded Titus to hold up their shields and swords, waiting for them to react first. A commander stepped up, wearing a beautiful armor and weapon. He stopped in front of the organized lines of warriors that just saved the lives of the three remaining Romans.

‘Salve, Romans,’ he said. ‘Where is the rest of your legion?’

‘Not far from here,’ Marcus replied. ‘We explored the country when the barbarians attacked us.’

‘Really?  Or did you arrive on a vessel, a dozen men, of which nine are dead? You killed an important king, set his city on fire. You destroyed several villages. That explains why the barbarians attacked you, but the two men you lost to mother nature are evidence that the jungle is against you. It sent its meanest creatures to punish you.’

‘There is no way deceiving you, Carthaginian.’

‘No, there is no way, Roman.’

‘Thank you for coming to our rescue. Why didn’t you just watch?’

‘Because we respect our enemies, and they don’t deserve to be slain and eaten by the barbarians.’

‘Have you come to this country when we burnt down Carthage?’

‘Yes, we came here. You should now follow us and recuperate. I assure that nothing will happen to you.’

Out of choices anyway, Marcus agreed and they followed the Carthaginian army through the woods. They arrived at a river, where they had built a town with about five-thousand inhabitants, not all of them Carthaginians, but also barbarians, most of them women, some Celtics and other Iberian people. Their houses looked properly built, in a similar style than they had looked like back in Europe and Africa, not sheds like most of the barbarians lived in.

It was a blend of cultures, and the Carthaginian commander told them that not all of the barbarian tribes were eating people. He also explained to them that they had been out of luck getting into that town they first burnt down, as a cruel barbarian ceremony had been in progress, making the king believe Marcus was a sacrifice sent by the gods.

The Carthaginians treated them with outmost respect, allowed them to wash and sleep in the so-called palace, that was not as big as they were in Carthage for the simple lack of building material in the jungle. The following morning, they were equipped with supplies that would last throughout their passage and brought back to the vessel.

‘Why don’t they invite us to stay longer?’ Titus asked Antonius when they were putting on their armors again.

‘I think they don’t want us to have any contact with this new culture they’ve created.’

‘You think they’re afraid we might start desiring this place?’

‘There is nothing the Roman Empire doesn’t desire if it’s worthwhile, right?’

‘Yes, but just think about the north of Britannia, where the Picts live. Or Germania. It’s just not worth the trouble for what treasures you could find there.’

At the vessel, the Carthaginians loaded the supplies, but they also brought in a cage. The Romans could not believe what they saw inside it. It was one of the demons from the woods, hissing at them, roaring.

‘This is a present from us,’ the Carthaginian commander explained. ‘You are supposed to take it to your emperor. Tell him we are here, that we’ve survived and that the jungle is ours. We share it with the tribes that live here.’

‘We will do that,’ Marcus replied. ‘Thank you for your hospitality and help. I don’t like to admit this, but without you, we’d be dead now.’

‘You grant me one question, Roman friend?’

‘Whatever it is that you want to know.’

‘Why did your emperor sent only a dozen men if half of the world he knows is under his control?’

‘That is a question I can’t answer.’

‘Farewell. I wish you the best for your passage.’

The Carthaginians turned around and vanished in the jungle from where they had come from. You could almost make yourself believe that they had not been anything else but spirits or ghosts.

Lacking the words to describe what had happened to them, the Romans climbed the vessel. It would be tough sailing it  without the help of nine more men, but they had no options. All they could do was sail with the wind and prepare for yet some more misery.

Marcus and Titus refused to take care of the beast, so Antonius took over that job. What astounded him about this creature was both how beautiful it was but also its level of aggressiveness. Even after a week at sea, it would still try to bite his hand, the hand that was feeding it, or  cut him with its paws whenever he came close to the cage. With nothing else to do, Antonius sometimes sat in front of the cage for hours, but the beast would not stop hissing at him and try to kill him.

‘I think we won’t become friends, dear monster,’ he said when they had left the islands in the north behind and were finally on their way back east, from where they had come from. Their only hope was that they would accidentally see Atlantis now on their way back but after another week, all hope was replaced by the purest wish to survive.

Finally seeing the Roman empire again was like the greatest joy they ever felt. Their own people helped them, gave them fresh supplies and allowed them to stay until they were rested. Like that, it took them another two weeks to get from Gibraltar to Rome, where nobody awaited their return.

They had no idea what to do with their beast, most of those responsible for the animals brought into Ostia believing it was nothing more than a common leopard with strange fur. Antonius explained to them that this was something else, something meaner, like they had never seen before.

Just when they wanted to start their journey to Rome, that they could already see in the distance, on top of its seven hills, the only true metropolis of the world they knew about, the Praetorian Guard arrested them by order of the emperor, ostensibly for not locating Atlantis.

‘What is this all about?’ Marcus wanted to know even though they did not resist, being loyal legionaries.

‘That is not your business,’ one of them said.

Together with their beast, they were taken to Capua over night. Neither of them knew what was going on, but a friend came to visit them in the early morning. He was a member of the Praetorian Guard now but had served in the legion with them together before.

‘Valentinus,’ Marcus said. ‘Are you here to save us?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not. All I can offer to you is an explanation.’

Valentinus told them that the emperor had been influenced right from the start by a senator called Gaius Maximus Traditorius. To the three legionaries, that was a familiar name. He was the commander who had ordered the death of one of their comrades in Britannia for treason, but Marcus and Antonius had refused to comply. They had overruled the decision. knowing that Traditorius merely wanted to see their comrade dead because he had seen Traditorius making deals with barbarians, secretly selling Roman goods and weapons to them, the profit going into his own pocket.

‘He was the one who had the idea to send you out and search Atlantis,’ Valentinus told them.’

‘That bastard,’ Marcus said. ‘He wanted us to get killed during the passage.’

‘That is true, but now there is nothing we could do. He will be there in Capua and watch your fight against the beasts. They don’t want you to fight in Rome, where you might have friends.’

‘Valentinus,’ Antonius asked, ‘can you write down our story?’

‘It is dangerous to talk. I will give you paper.’

‘Thank you, old friend.’

Together they wrote their story, not omitting anything, so that nobody could ever mistake them for real traitors. Valentinus accepted the paper and promised to publicly show it once he had found a way to do so safely.

‘I’ll be watching at the arena,’ he said. ‘I hope you will survive and I will call to the gods, but you know that politics is still the most efficient weapon in this so-called civilized world.’

He rode off, toward Capua, where the three legionaries were headed for their final battle.

At the bestiariorum, they were put in the rags the gladiators had to wear. Normally, they would have been trained there, but as they were legionaries, that was considered to be dispensable – and of course they were supposed to die quickly. Like it was tradition with the slaves, they were taken to the blacksmith, who put iron rings around their ankles. That was a painful procedure. The flesh was burnt from the hot iron, the blows of the hammer threatened to break the bones, all of that to slow you down at the arena.

Sleep was not granted to them, so they found themselves exhausted at the arena the following day, dressed up like they were volunteer bestiarii, with no training and no idea what they were supposed to do. The crowd cheered wildly. They wanted to see blood. The legionaries were the only ones down at the arena waiting for the gates to open and spit out whatever beast had been chosen to end their lives.

‘Whatever happens out there,’ Antonius said, ‘let us stay on our feet as long as we can. Titus, your left hand is injured, so stay close to my right if you can and we protect each other.’

‘I will do that. What about you, Marcus? will you charge like a madman again?’

‘Yes, I will. Let’s see what beast they will unleash upon us.’

The gates opened up, so they went inside the arena, the burning sun blinding them. It was not as fierce as the sun back at the jungle. At least they would die in the land they had lived to defend against the hordes of barbarians threatening to take it.

To the left, obtaining the seat of honor, was Traditorius, getting up to raise his voice.

‘My dear fellows, look at those fallen legionaries. Our emperor ordered them to find Atlantis. Instead, they came back telling lies, bringing with them a conventional beast as evidence that they have found a new world. I say they’re traitors. I say they deserve death for being a disgrace. And if that was not enough, they had a partner who carried with him their stories of lies written on paper. I say we bring them together again, so that they can die like they lived. Down in the dirt!’

The crowd cheered. It always did. It was not important what happened at the arena, whether it was true or not, whether it was just or not, as long as it would turn out to be entertaining. That was what the crowd had come for and as long as they were getting it, they were satisfied.

They thought Valentinus would be brought in, wearing the same outfit as they did, but then a guard threw his head down into the arena. The crowd went berserk, thinking that they would be looking at a great show. Marcus stepped up, closed Valentinus’s eyes and said some words. His rage was difficult to be subdued. He was thinking  about ways of getting up there to kill Traditorius, but even if he managed to get anywhere close to him, there were a dozen guards waiting for him.

‘Whatever will come out of this gate,’ Marcus said to the others, ‘don’t show any fear. Let your swords rage, kill as quickly as you can. Defend your life. Let them run out of beasts before you run out of life.’

The legionaries stood in a close formation, three men wide, watching the gate, from where terrible noise was already coming, announcing various beasts waiting to kill them. Traditorius gave a signal, the gate opened up. Out came a black bear, four-hundred pounds in weight, a rhino weighing at least a ton and a tiger of about three-hundred and fifty pounds. The beasts were confused. They did not know what they were expected to do. The crowd enraged them, but there were guards poking them with spears so that they would run out into the arena.

‘If the rhino charges at us once, we’re dead,’ Antonius said. ‘We should take it out first.’

‘All they’ve given us are swords and shields,’ Titus said. ‘And my left shoulder keeps me from doing anything with the shield.’

‘You think the shield would be good for anything?’ Marcus asked. ‘Look at that beast, it’s too powerful. You two distract the bear and the tiger. I’ll take care of the rhino.’

That said, they did not waste any time but ran at the beasts attacking them first as if they had a chance to leave the arena alive. Titus got the bear, because he thought he knew that animal better than the tiger, making up for his injured shoulder. He knew it had been a wrong assumption when the bear stood on two legs, smashing at his shield with an enormous paw, sending him down into the sand of the arena.

Antonius was likewise busy with the tiger, that looked at him out of fierce eyes, circling him, brain racing, trying to figure out his weakness. Only seconds later, the tiger decided to take a first shot at Antonius, who went down to the ground, hiding behind his shield, cutting the tiger’s flank. The monster yelped in pain, but Antonius had no chance to stay down, as the rhino was charging at him.

Marcus in turn chased the rhino and tried to get it interested in himself. Once he managed to do so, he could hardly avoid it, the rhino almost goring him with the horn, his shield splintering like his left wrist. That would not stop him. He knew the only weakness of the rhino was the spinal cord. Anything else would have been pointless, as he would need a big and good spear to penetrate the heart. This time, he avoided the animal more properly and jumped for the back, somehow holding on to it as it raced through the arena, ramming his gladius into the neck several times until he got it right. He thrust the sword in so hard he splintered a vertebrae, the rhino still running until it accepted it was dead and sank down into the sand, hitting the stone wall. The crowd was thrilled by that.

Marcus had been bucked off the rhino, landing on the ground knocking the wind out of him. He landed close to the bear, that started striking at him, but Titus somehow brought his shield between Marcus and the bear, landing his first strike with the sword, cutting the left flank only inches shy of the heart. The big animal turned toward him, it forgot about Marcus, who jumped up and cut the neck several times, ripping his gladius out to push it into the heart.  Titus caught several more hits, his left arm broke in three spots, until the bear finally bled out and died.

‘We’ve got to help Antonius!’ Marcus yelled.

Antonius was still busy with the tiger, that was a very sly beast and pinned him to the stone wall. He had another trick up his sleeve, so when the tiger jumped at him again, he used the bottom of his shield, that was sharpened like a blade from the numerous times it had been dragged through sand and stone, to cut the tiger’s belly. It was a deep, a painful cut, that looked unreal. The flesh was split and a lot of blood poured out. The tiger struggled with this injury. Antonius used this chance to strike again. He deflected a paw meant to break his neck and cut the tiger in the face.

Only when Titus and Marcus helped him corner the tiger did they finally manage to lethally injure it. The crowd was pleased with that. Often, the bestiarii did not even manage to kill a single beast. The three legionaries had put up quite a show and the crowd was anxious to see what was coming next.

‘Watch the gate,’ Marcus said. ‘Who knows what they have for us this time.’

‘What worse could they…’ Titus began but could not finish his sentence.

A hatch was opened, so that the ground of the arena opened up, he stumbled, he fell, a leopard shot out of a cage underneath the arena, jumping right for his head, biting with all its force. There were no screams to be hushed up, expect for those of his friends.

Of course they had known they would die, but seeing a friend killed by a leopard that was deviously deployed, that was tough. Immediately, they rushed for his help, but when they wounded the leopard so that it let go, nothing but a bloody mess was left of Titus’s face. He was dead.

Marcus and Antonius quickly surrounded the leopard and killed it, not seeing the other animals that were released behind them. When Marcus turned around, he brought up his shield just in time to keep the wolf from biting into his neck. He was occupied by the wolf, so that he did not see what Antonius was worried about. It was a male elephant, but that was not all. Out of a hatch came a male lion, about five-hundred pounds, maybe more, a majestic sight, but still not as scary as the yet nameless beast the Carthaginians had given to them.

‘Marcus! We’ve got a problem!’

‘Help me with the wolf!’

The wolf, while not as big as the leopard, was a stubborn monster, still strong and in a very bad mood. Marcus now started feeling his injuries. He had not noticed before that he was bleeding and the ring around his ankle made things worse, slowing him down like its purpose was, but also hurting him and making him lose blood, that was pouring down with every major movement.

Antonius had a real bad feeling turning back toward a male elephant and a male lion, but Marcus was right. They could not afford that wolf in their backs. He charged, ran very fast. He planned something that was risky but would be the quickest solution if it worked.

‘Hold your shield up to the right!’ he yelled just in time for Marcus to do so. He did not spend any second thoughts on complying. Antonius in full speed jumped on the shield, pushed himself up, jumped higher and farther, then thrust his sword into the wolf when he was coming down, killing it.

They had no time to work on a plan, as the elephant was coming for them. It had arrows poking out of its back and neck, evidence that they had tried everything to make this animal rage. Neither Marcus nor Antonius had any experience killing animals the size of a house. All they could do was avoid the tusks and the trunk, cutting into the thick skin as often as they could.

‘Distract the elephant!’ Antonius screamed because he had an idea.

Marcus started yelling at the big beast, struggling with avoiding it and not letting the lion out of his sight, because he knew that beast was planning something. The lion was afraid of the elephant, but as soon as they had the elephant down, the lion would be on them, that was certain.

Antonius got underneath the elephant, striking at its throat, cutting it, but by use of its the trunk, the elephant tossed him over. Marcus stumbled. He brought his shield up in defense but the elephant stepped on him, breaking the shield and several of his ribs. He yelped in pain like Antonius had never heard before. He knew he had to do something, otherwise the elephant would crush Marcus, so he grabbed one of the tusks, pulled himself up before the elephant could push him down and shoved his sword into the right eye. He pushed hard, as hard as he could, uttering a battle cry, not knowing whether he had hit the brain. He pulled the sword out to take the other eye but the elephant grabbed him and threw him against the stone wall. Antonius coughed blood but he looked at the lion, then at the elephant, that stumbled and fell over dead, almost burying Marcus underneath itself.

Antonius knew that more than one bone in his body was broken but he had not time to recuperate.

‘Marcus!’ he screamed rushing to help his friend. ‘Get up now!’

Marcus lay face-down in the sand, that was coated in drying blood he coughed and that poured out of several wounds. Antonius saw the lion coming for them, so they had to be quick. He sank down to his knees, lifting Marcus out of the sand. He could already feel that several of his bones were broken. From the many blood he coughed he knew that two or three ribs at least had pierced through the lungs. Soon, he would be dead.

‘Please, Marcus. One last time. This one last beast we will take down together.’

‘Yes, this will be our last beast.’

Antonius helped him up. They both could hardly stand upright but took their position as if they were still shoulder-to-shoulder with their comrades. They held up their shields and swords, awaiting the attack of the lion.

‘We take him from both sides,’ Marcus said. ‘Don’t give that lion any room.’

‘That’ll prove hard. You see how big he is? That tiger was nothing in comparison.’

‘Do you have a better idea?’

‘We could take a charge at Traditorius.’

‘Good one.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because the wall is thirty feet tall. We can’t get at him at all.’

‘Right, but what will they do to us once the lion is down?’

‘They’ll send in the archers.’

‘Exactly. They’ll shoot us down. We’ll end in the sand anyway.’

‘I know. Let’s kill the lion. Maybe, somebody will remember our bravery.’

‘To be remembered is all we could hope for.’

The lion closed in on them, it attacked, roaring wildly. You could feel the roar shaking your body. Marcus tried to strike at the lion but this animal was experienced in combat. Otherwise, it would not have become that big. Antonius tried the shield but the lion struck at it, almost throwing him over.

‘I’ll get you some room,’ Marcus said, ‘so you’ve got to be quick now.’

‘Do it.’

Marcus charged, he rammed his shield into the lion while Antonius started his swing for the head. The plan would have worked, had the shield not been cracked from the elephant. Upon impact, it burst, splinters penetrating Marcus’s leg, but also giving the lion the opportunity to bite him in the neck, as big cats always did. Antonius struck at the lion shortly after, but he came too late for his commander. Marcus bled to death in the sand while Antonius hacked at the lion until the head almost came off.

He sank down, to look at his dying commander, who had little life left in his eyes, but that were yet glowing. He was smiling when his soul departed, when it was over in this world, ruled by beasts.

‘Farewell, brother,’ Antonius said.

He was down on his knees, where they wanted him. The dead beasts of this world were scattered around the arena, together with his comrades, but one monster was yet missing. He wanted to get up and ask the audience whether this had been worth it, if they had deserved this, but he knew they would answer yes, would not care for their story, refuse to remember them. To them they were nothing but slaves or criminals, sentenced to death, given weapons not to defend themselves but to make the fight last a bit longer. That was all. Instead, Antonius got up, waiting for arrows to be fired at him.

Traditorius talked to one of his consultants, until something happened after he gave orders. Not the gate opened but another hatch underneath the arena. Antonius considered dropping his gladius and let whatever beast would emerge kill him but then he remembered who he was and that he could never do that. He tightened his grip around the sword, the shield, ready to kill whatever was coming for him.

A gracious beast jumped into the arena, out of nowhere. It was the demon from the jungle. But that was not true. It was the same kind of monster, only that this individual had been given to them by the Carthaginians. It was the beast with no name.

‘Look at this creature!’ Traditorius called out to the audience. ‘This leopard is the monster the traitors have brought here, claiming it had been given to them by the Carthaginians, now rulers of a new world. What a lie! How they wanted to betray our emperor and convince him they had found a new world instead of Atlantis. I find this ironic, like a Greek comedy, so we will now see how the last of the traitors dies from the paws of this beast.’

The crowd had no idea this was not a leopard. They did not care at all. What they cared for was the show, that had three acts. This was the final act.

Antonius stared at the beast. It stared  back. There was no doubt it remembered him. Images came back. Antonius remembered something as well. How this beast could kill. Never before had he seen anything as impressive. He could have hated this beast but he did not find any hate in his heart for it, only for the empire he had protected with his life, that had sent them away to kill them.

‘I don’t want to fight you, jungle demon,’ he said to the beast that slowly approached him. ‘I’m not here to kill you. I shouldn’t have played this game in the first place.’

Antonius let his shield fall down into the sand, he let go of his gladius. He sank down to his knees for one last time. He knew what the beast was capable of. It would have easily been able to kill him. Instead, the beast rubbed its head on him and Antonius started petting it. The beast remembered him, as he had been the one taking care of it during the passage, not letting it go to waste.

‘Finally, we’ve become friends,’ he said out loud over the noise of the crowd, that was still thirsty for blood.

Numerous people insisted. Either man or beast should be killed, but then they had no quarrel with each other, not in this hostile land, where they did not belong. Antonius looked the beast into the eyes.

‘It was a pleasure living to see your grace, dearest beast. But now it’s time to die.’

Antonius summoned his power, his will, he uttered a battle cry, like a roar. He grabbed his gladius, charged for Traditorius, who was sitting thirty feet above him. He threw his sword at him, surprising the guards who could not react anymore. The sword flew through the air, toward the man who thought he was immortal. It struck him in the left shoulder, missing the heart by not more than four inches. Arrows were hastily fired, killing Antonius, who had lifted his arms to welcome them, who refused to run away, who was not an animal inside a cage, only a life taken to entertain the masses.

He fell, pain flushing his body, but with  a smile on his face. He saw Marcus, as he lay on the other side of the arena. Then he saw the beast, that stared at him. Was it regret he could see in those deep, brown eyes? All he could say for sure was that the last he saw was poetry in motion, when the beast the Carthaginians had sent charged for the wounded Traditorius, jumped the wall, climbed up at it without much effort, attacked him and ripped his throat out.

Antonius saw how the beast killed Traditorius, surrounded by guards who did not know what to do with the monster that had killed him. Antonius understood the present of the Carthaginians when he closed his eyes and saw nothing but blackness anymore, followed by light.

The beast from the jungle put up a proper fight. It would not surrender its prey. Before the guards managed to kill it, three more men were dead. Even when the beast lay motionlessly, they could not deny how beautiful it was.

‘This must be the meanest beast the gods invented,’ one of the guards said when they started cleaning up, carrying away the dead bodies.

The dead bestiarii were taken out of town, together with the beast. The other animals were cut up to meat instead of being buried. Asked why this beast was something special, the gravedigger only replied that those who had seen could tell. He dug a hole and buried Antonius in it, together with the beast that had loved him too much to take his life. They might have been remembered, but their story was buried with them, for nobody would still believe it after ten, fifteen, twenty years. Only those that had been there could tell the story properly, until it would die together with the last witness.

***

Dr. Rhodes had been at the archives for days, not finding anything about an unidentified beast that matched the description of a jaguar and that had been deployed at Capua. Most descriptions that he found either omitted the names of the beasts or they described a leopard, which meant that their monster could have been among them. A jaguar looked quite similar to a leopard after all.

Not a word about a man who had been attached to his beast, so that they had been buried next to each other. New theories supported by crucial evidence he knew about described that the Carthaginians sailed to South America after they had been defeated by the Romans. Did that mean the Romans might have accomplished that as well? Judging from the evidence, Dr. Rhodes could not tell. So far, any idea where the jaguar might have come from was nothing more than speculation.

He visited Suzanne at the institute, where she was examining the bones.

‘Anything new you could tell me about the bestiarius?’ Dr. Rhodes asked her while she continued working.

‘I can tell you that the iron ring was attached just shortly before the man deceased, so it did not heal. It must’ve hurt like hell fighting with this fresh wound, plus the weight slowed him down because he had not time to grow additional muscles to compensate for it.’

‘What you describe is a likely scenario if you want to punish a slave, but the man has the body of a legionary trained for war, muscular and well-fed, there is no denying that.’

‘Are you suggesting treason?’

‘Possible. The Romans were not the most moral people ever. Maybe, the man had been scapegoated, who knows. I believe he was a legionary out of luck.’

‘The team found two more bodies with iron rings around their ankles and wounds that had no time to heal. But, other than this man, they haven’t been killed by arrows. They’ve been killed by wild beasts. Probably big cats, as they had injuries on their necks. Big marks from teeth. They also had other injuries, including bones literally shattered. I believe it was an animal chase they participated in.’

‘That’s suspicious. The men who participated in venationes were called venators and they most of the times fought the beast voluntarily. The iron rings don’t match that picture.’

‘What about the history books and the texts?’

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing on Romans that reached the Americas. The Celtics? Maybe. the Carthaginians? Plausible. But the Romans? No evidence, no texts, no nothing.’

‘And that the evidence is missing, or maybe lying right in front of you, means that it never happened?’

‘Ah, I see where this is going. It doesn’t mean that, but so far, there is nothing we could say for sure.’

‘What would you respond if I asked you what you think?’

‘I think there’s two options. Either the Carthaginians or anyone else went to the Americas, caught the jaguar and sold it to the Romans, which would mean that sooner or later we should find more evidence for transatlantic trade, or the Romans crossed the Atlantic themselves and managed to catch this beast.’

‘And what if both is true? What if the world back then was more global than we want to think?’

‘If we find concrete evidence, I think we should spend a lot of time correcting the flaws in the history books.’

The following day, they returned to the dig sight, where Dr. Rhodes stared down into the now empty grave, where the man had been buried next to the beast. He pictured both man and beast, next to each other in the arena, some sort of admiration between them, so that they would not kill each other. It was a beautiful thought, but whatever happened back then in Capua might as well remain a riddle for eternity. What remained was the beautiful thought, the idea that, in such a hostile world, there could be affection between hunter and prey, whoever might have been who.