The Death of an Empire

Prologue

Rome. The greatest city that ever graced the face of the world. Home to the Colloseum, the Temple of Jupiter, and temples to all the true Gods. The city from which the great Senate spread their influence across the known world. The birthplace of democracy, and a thousand other ideas and ideals. Rome. The center of the mightiest of empires. And now it burned.
The flames rose endlessly into the sky, as if trying to return to Vesta, the God of fire; heat radiated from the burning city to keep away any mortal, and a great crowd of people encircled the city; already mourning the loss.
The battle for Rome had raged for three days and three nights; yet ultimately, the unthinkable had happened. The heart of the Roman empire lay ravaged and torn.
The flames refected from the tear soaked eyes of Gnaeus Pompeius, General to the armies of Rome, former Senator and Consul of the State. He knelt on the ground of the northern hills; and he could see the destruction in it’s entirety. The whole city of Rome lay sprawled across his vision, and the flames spared no part of it. The greatest city in the world; now reduced to an ugly scar marring the countryside. He raised his hands in anguish and whispered words so softly, that not even Bismark, who stood over his shoulder, could hear, “Jupiter save me! What have I done? What…have…I…done….”
As the flames rose higher in the city, the King of Germany nodded once and stepped away. Lord Jon Von Rikenstein, newest of the elite honor guard, replaced him as he drew his sword and held it high, as if in salute. The sword gleamed in the firelight as it arced downward… downwards…. down.
And Gnaeus Pompeius mourned no more.
***

Caeser tapped his lip thoughtfully as he pondered on the letter. Not five weeks in his new office as governor of the Spanish provinces, and already the games had began. He let out a sigh and read the letter once more,

My dearest Julius,
It has been too long since Rome. I pray this letter finds you in good health, as I pray you will return to my arms soon. The fires of my heart burn brightly to hear of your recent election, however, you must be careful of your newfound success, lest it go to your head. Remember, I think of you always,

S

At first glance, the letter appeared to be a love note, but since Julius had no loves in his life, and none of the girls he had lain with had half the wit to write a letter this eloquent, he knew it to be a dire warning. But from whom? “S” was the only signature he had, and that may or may not be a real initial. He shook himself slightly; whoever wrote the letter was a mystery for another time. “Fires of my heart burn brightly of your recent election”. The “heart” must mean the heart of the empire, Rome. And if it was burning with the news, that must mean that there were some Senators who were not pleased with the way that he was gaining power. No doubt they felt jealous and threatened. That was no surprise in itself, Senators were a notorious bunch for scheming against one another for money and power; no, what was surprising was why he should be “careful of his newfound success, lest it go to his head”. Why would his life be in danger? Surely the Senators wouldn’t go that far, would they? After all, his popularity with the people of Rome made him near untouchable. There was obviously more going on in Rome than he knew, and that made Caeser uncomfortable. He doubted he would get much sleep that night, but sleep he did; and his dreams were filled of assassins and knives.

Welcome back, Chingis.

This one is shaping up nicely, already.

nicely done

A loud booming knock woke Julius with a start. His hand was already reaching to his side; reaching for the short bladed gladius that took Caeser's sleep weary mind a second to realize that he no longer wore. Damn, but he was tired! He hadn't had a good night's rest in, what?... two months? Ever since he had recieved the news. Nonetheless, Caeser was one of those men that could go from dead sleep to full awareness in split seconds, and he was already to his feet and halfway dressed when Crassus barged his way into Caeser's room. Two of Julius' serving men (never called slaves) were attempting to stop the intruder from disturbing their master's rest. It was an exercise in futility as Crassus swept them along with his large frame.
Julius' face broke into a wide grin at the sight of his dear friend; he waved off the serving men as if they were flies as he greeted Crassus in a monstrous bear hug,
"By the Gods, it is good to see you!"
Crassus laughed heartily, "And you, Julius."
Caeser turned away as Crassus dropped his huge body onto the couch, "A drink?"
Crassus was busy admiring the couch he sat on; a beautifully carved slab of marble, lavishly covered with finely crafted pillows of all sorts. "Eh? A drink, you say? Do the Spaniards cower like dogs at the sight of our legions? Of course a drink! Ha! I must say, you have definately moved up in the world. This place would do a Senator proud."
Caeser laughed as he brought two goblets of plum wine, "No, Senators are too busy stabbing you in the back to worry about where they live."
"All too true."
The two men busied themselves catching up on old times. The last time Caeser had seen Crassus had been during the Punic War. Julius laughed to himself as he remembered their first meeting. Crassus had been a businessman; well, a businessman of sorts, anyway. Crassus had owned the only fire service in Rome. He would be the only one to show up who could help a large building on fire. Then, he would buy the burning building at a bargain price before agreeing to put out the flames! He had made a large sum of money this way; as well as a lot of enemies. Men who had been only too glad to get at least some recompense for an otherwise lost building, later accused Crassus of foul play; a man could amass a good amount of enemies at profiting from others misfortune. So Crassus had gone to Caeser, who was young enough then to help another man for the good of it, and also gaining popularity rapidly among the people of Rome. Caeser's support of Crassus had helped both men immeasurably in their respective political careers.
Suddenly, and without warning, their conversation died off. Both men looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Crassus looked downwards and cleared his throat before speaking again,
"I heard of your family, Julius. A great shame."
Julius' face seemed to freeze over instantly. He paused for what felt like an eternity before draing his goblet and reaching for a refill.
"My family are safe within the underworld, Crassus. They are with the Gods now. And those that put them there, shall join them soon enough. This, I swear!"
Julius looked down in sudden surprise at the wine which slopped over the side f his goblet. He had crushed the finely worked silver in his hand as if it were paper. He made an exasperated noise as he reached down to make a clumsy and fruitless effort to straighten the ruined cup.
"That is why I took this job here in Spain, Crassus. It was at my retreat here that the foul murders took place. It is here that I will find my vengence. But it seems as though even here, even at the outermost reaches of our empire, I cannot escape the machinations of our politics. Here...", he fetched the letter he had recieved and handed it to Crassus, who read it with a blank expression.
"I didn't know that the resentment against you ran so deep. You should watch your back, my friend. They never would have dared to make a move so bold in Rome against you."
Caeser sighed and sat down again, "I know. But now that I am out here, with no friends, except those I buy.... That was part of the reason I sent for you."
Crassus leant forward, "Part of the reason...?"
"Yes, the main reason is that I want you to General the legions for me."
Crassus choked on his wine, sneding it spraying in a fine mist across the fine carpets. "You must be out of your peabrain! You know that you are by far the greatest General Rome has ever seen! Why in blazes would you want this fat old buzzard to caommand your legions? You must know that each victory you win over the Spanish barbarians brings more fame and power."
Caeser laughed. "You may be a fat old buzzard, but I remember the Punic wars, and you seemed to do quite alright as I recall. As for the other. Well, I am a Governor now. I can't just pick up a sword and run off to fight anymore. Besides, perhaps having you win victories and fame will change the Senators mind about having me killed."
"What! And I suppose they will then want to kill me! Some friend you are!"
Caeser joined in laughter with Crassus. His face grew more serious before going on,
"I am afraid I will have to press you for a response, my friend. Forgive me, but word of an uprising of the Spanish barbarians has reached me, and the legions will march at the beginning of the week to destroy them. I want you to lead them. Will you?"
Crassus thought for a moment; then downed the rest of his wine.
"Why not? You and me together again, Julius. Facing all odds, eh! Mars is sure to be throwing a party upon learning of our reunion!"

awaiting next installment with bated breath.

When the legions of Rome marched, it was a sight to behold. The sandals of over eight thousand soldiers shook the dry, dusty land across which they marched. A huge trail of dust rose into the blue skies above, as if to point out the approaching army. The brightly painted scutum stood out from miles away, so that one looking from afar would see a bright red smear streaking across the landscape.
Almost two full legions marched on this day. Each legion was divided into ten cohorts, each of around four hundred and eighty men. Each of the cohorts was again divided into six centuries, of around eighty men each. One aquilifer was assigned to each legion, and his job was to carry the eagle; the standard of the entire legion. It was almost a religious symbol to the soldiers, and to lose it meant disgrace, and most likely led to the disbanding of the legion. In addition to the great eagle standard, each cohort, and each century, carried their own standards for their unit. And so the huge column of men marched onwards; a mass of brilliant colors, interspaced with the banners and standards of the two legions, each man carrying his scutum (shield), two pilum (spear), and wearing the famous lorica segmentata (segmented armor). It was a sight to inspire fear into the hearts of the stoutest man.
Crassus rode among the main body of the army. He had arranged the legions into the traveling formation, with cavalry riding up front, along with some light infantry as a vanguard, followed by the main force of infantry. After them, came the baggage train and servants, guarded by more cavalry. Forming the rear guard, were several units of the best infantry and yet more cavalry. Surrounding the army on all sides were several units of light infantry, acting as a scouting screen. It was the standard formation for a legion on the move, and Crassus mused on how well trained these legionaires were. Well, after all, they had been trained and tested under Caeser’s watchful eye. It would almost be a joy to see them in action against the Spanish barbarians.
Not fifty miles to the west, in the dry and gritty land, the Spanish “freedom fighters’, as they had called themselves, gathered together in preparation of the forthcoming battle. The heads of all the tribes sat together in grim silence for a while. One spoke,
“No one before has survived facing the legions.”
“We must do what we must do. Would you rather lay down and give our father’s lands to these Roman dogs?”
“We have less then ten thousand men. I hear that the Romans bring not one, but two whole legions to destroy us! That is almost ten thousand men they have themselves!”
“Good, then it will be a fair fight.”
“Ha! In what lands would that be? If we had three times their numbers, I still would not give an ounce of goat’s piss for our chances!”
There was silence for some time, and then ,
“We should ready the men. The Romans will be here the day after tomorrow. We have no time.”
The Spanish went about their preparations with heavy hearts. There were few who doubted the outcome, yet it was a testament to Spanish courage, and heart, that they would fight nonetheless…

The Senate. The most powerful, and influential group of men in Rome. Perhaps the world. They sat in meeting, wearing their togas, which they all privately hated, and couldn't wait to get out of. The damn things may look grand, thought Gnaeus Pompeius, but they were an absolute bugger to keep on. They kept wanting to fall apart at the slightest movement. Gnaeus grumbled to himself as he readjusted his purple toga for what felt like the millionth time. Ah! Good, it is finally over, thought Gnaeus. He hated the pomposity of the other Senators, and had come to dread the sittings of the Senate. As they headed towards the entrance, a beautiful marbled floor leading through finely carved columns to a grand staircase, he caught sight of Augustus Romanos, one of the most senior members of the Senate, and not without influence.
"Ah, good day to you Senator. I pray the Gods smile on you."
Augustus barely broke stride, "And to you, Senator."
Gnaeus swallowed his snarl as he percieved the older man to be dealing with him as though he were a fly! Well, he would soon learn different. They all would! He continued in a smoothly oiled voice, "I hear word from the Spanish provinces is most favorable to Rome. Another great victory for Caeser."
Augustus kept the same pace and hardly flickered his eyes at Gnaeus, he had almost reached the staircase, "Yes, yes. Of course another victory for Rome. Did you expect different?"
Gnaeus choked back his anger. The old fool was not taking the bait. Well, he would just have to try another angle.
"I am sorry to hear of your daughter, Senator. Such a tragic loss, yes? Well, I am sure that Caeser can be trusted to find the culprits responsible for the massacre. After all, he was so eager to take the Governership of the Spanish provinces. And so close to the site of that horrible act."
Augustus stopped so quickly, that Gnaeus almost tripped over his toga. When he turned, his eyes were full of a terrible, cold rage, but when he spoke, not a hint of it entered his voice.
"You seem to have a problem with Caeser, boy. Do you really think your petty games concern me? I have been a member of this Senate for two decades! I have played all the games there are to play. Ha! I created a few games that would spin your foolish head in circles! You think to manipulate me? You dare to use my daughter's death to pull me around like some damned puppet? I will tell you this one time, and one time only, whatever problem you have with Caeser, is between you and him."
Gnaeus replied in an instant, "I am sorry Senator. You are right, I should not have used your daughter's death in such a crude manner. It is just that I think there is more to Caeser than meets the eye. I don't know who else to turn to... you are the most powerful man I know, and if you can't help me..."
Augustus lowered his brows and motioned for Gnaeus to continue. Gnaeus looked around, and lowered his voice,
"I think that somehow, Caeser was behind the massacre at Little Villa. I think that he caused the massacre of his family, along with many others to whip up sympathy for himself, and to have an excuse to take the Governership of Spain! You well know how much power he has to gain there. He is already ordered the legions to destroy all remaining resistance in the provences."
Augustus stopped him with an upraised hand, "This is prepostorous!", he paused, and shook his head slightly, "I will not believe it of Julius, he may be an ambitiuos man, but that does not make him a murderer. Perhaps if you had some kind of... proof?"
Gnaeus nodded as he smiled to himself. Another seed of doubt raised. Soon enough, he would need no proof, the whispers around the hall, that he started, would soon begin to seep into every corrupted nook and cranny of the Senate. Soon enough, the rumours would be proof of themselves, as they fed upon themselves in a vicious feeding frenzy, and at the center would be the lie made true, and Julius Caeser would fall. And then....

Great story

Hurrah! Chingis Khan writes again!

Hi guys, nice to be back! I feel bad for letting "The Spearman" die, but I will double my efforts on "The Death of an Empire" to make up for it!!!
Anyway, on with the story...

”He whose light infantry is good should cover his center by forming them in it’s front and charge both the enemy’s wings at once. This is the fifth formation.”

General Revolutionary

Crassus surveyed the field. The Spanish had attempted to fortify their position on a rocky incline. It would make little difference. Spanish arrows, darts, and spears had all proven most ineffective against the Roman army time and time again. And once the legions closed ranks with the Spanish, the outcome was all but assured. Crassus had decided to make this a spectacular victory for the Romans, and a crushing defeat for the Spanish dogs; not from a sense of glory, or bloodlust as some other generals had in the past, but to serve as a valuable lesson for the peoples of this new land. They must learn who controlled Spain. They would learn here, now.
Crassus had arranged the legions into the fifth formation, a variation on the fourth. In the fourth formation, the army was arranged into four parts; the left wing, the center, the right wing, and the reserves. The entire army would be brought close to the enemy, where the two wings would then charge. This tactic had proven useful in surprising an enemy and often bought a quick resolution to the battle. Using the fifth formation reduced the risks of having the enemy survive the initial attack, and counter with your army divided, by reinforcing the center with light infantry and archers, thus making it far less vulnerable. Crassus chuckled to himself as he recalled the last time he had used this maneuver, so many years ago. The tables had been turned on him then, and he would have lost many men, if not for the intervention of a bright young general named Caeser. However, today, thought Crassus, today, there would be no mistakes. Although he had chosen a tactic quite disdainful of the Spanish abilities, especially considering the two armies were of equal size, he already knew the outcome of this battle as if Mars himself had descended the heavens to tell him personally.

The centurion looked over his men. Most were green, and had never been close to a battle before today. But that was okay; the centurion had trained most of these kids himself, and he was a harsh teacher. He knew they would perform well. One young man looked as though he might lose his lunch. The centurion walked to him, and clapped him on the back,
“Ah, don’t look so upset, lad. You’ll get the chance to kill a few Spaniards before the day is through!”, he flung his arm out across the century, “You all will! Make no mistake, my young lads, you stick to what I taught you, and they won’t stand a chance! Remember, these Spanish fight as though they all want to be heroes. Well, let them! We will fight as one team.” He picked up some dry sticks from, the ground. He plucked out one of the bigger sticks, “One man alone, no matter how strong he may be, is weak by virtue of his isolation,” he snapped the stick in half with a lazy movement. Then he grabbed a bundle of smaller sticks and held them together. “Many men together, no matter how weak they may be, become strong by virtue of their teamwork.” He strained to snap the bundle of sticks, but the bundle held firm.
“Remember, stay close to one another, trust your fellow man to defend your weak side, as you defend the man next to you. If I see a man leave the formation for heroics, I’ll kill him myself. Now get ready, for we charge the Spaniards soon.”
The green faced young man looked grateful at the words of encouragement, “Thank you, centurion. Um… I am new to this century, what is your name?”
The centurion turned to look out over the battlefield, he answered over his shoulder, “My name is Glavius.”

Caeser stood at the balcony of his mansion. The view here was quite spectacular; overlooking the town of Santa Barbos and the Bay of Barbos. He mulled over the latest news his detectives had brought to him. He had hired several such detectives, and at no inconsiderable cost. The lead detective, Antonius, a former policeman of Rome and a one time lieutenant in Legion XXI, had come to Caeser three hours ago with some disturbing news,

Antonius marched his way into Caeser’s lobby, led by Caeser’s retainers. He stopped abruptly, knelt to one knee, and proceeded with his report without preamble,
“Governor, you said to report directly upon light of any new development into the case of the Little Villa massacre.”
Caeser motioned impatiently, “Yes,yes. Go on…”
Antonius stood, “It was not the Spanish rebels who attacked. It was no Spanish of any kind.”
Caeser came to his feet sharply, in shock, “Not the Spanish?”
“No sir.”
“Then who? How can you be sure? What… I mean… not the Spanish?”
“There were several clues, at least to those trained to look. The way that the whole slaughter was conducted, for example, was far too organized for the rebels, bandits, or even a group of discontented Spaniards. Every man, woman and child was systematically rounded up and killed. This would take either great luck, or good planning and execution. My instinct tells me that the perpetrator of the deed had prior knowledge of how many people there would be, where they would be, when they would be most lightly escorted…”
Caeser broke in, “Are you trying to say that the massacre was commited by Romans? An assassination of the families of high ranking Roman officials?”
“I don’t know politics, sir. I do know that it was no Spanish who attacked that day. The material evidence also points to Romans. The arrowheads are Spanish style, but after questioning a local fletcher, the arrows are not made in the Spanish way. The fletchings are too short, and the head is not attached in quite the same way. A good imitation, but not the same.”
Caeser slumped back into his chair, “Thank you, Antonius. You will be well rewarded for your troubles, please…” He motioned towards the door. Antonius bowed his head, and left Caeser alone with his thoughts.

Now, as the newly appointed governor overlooked his new territory, dark thougths swirled dangerously through his head. Threats on his life from the Senate. The Spanish rebels moving an army against him, however hopeless that was. His family murdered. No, assissinated! By whom? The Senate? What in Hades was going on in Rome? The look on his face darkly mirrored the lands he overlooked in the setting sun. Dark, murky, deep. He would find who was behind all this. He would find him, and then...

no more?

no your going to kill the spearmen i loved that story oh well this is good enough to make me happy.

BUMP?

This was going good

Garcia del Estranza knelt in brief prayer. As he rose to face the Roman legions, he pushed thoughts of his wife and children from his mind. They would only distract him, and today he would need a clear head to keep from losing his head. Almost ten thousand of his Spanish brothers had gathered in defiance of the rape of their homeland, and almost ten thousand of the Roman vermin had gathered to do more killing of free men. As he looked around him, he could see the grim determination etched on the faces of his brothers, yet underneath that resolve, like a festering wound, was an unmistakable air of fear. Garcia’s thoughts broke off as battle cries rose all around him. The Romans had begun their advance!
The Romans marched forward like some unstoppable machine, shrugging aside any darts or arrows that rattled harmlessly from their huge shields. As they closed the distance, Garcia felt his pulse racing. His breath became short, and hard to catch as fear and panic tried to claim him. He let out a mighty yell, screaming his defiance to the Roman filth, and he felt better, as if he had released all the paralyzing effects of his fear to the enemy, and kept all the rage induced strength to himself. The Romans had closed enough distance now to launch their odd looking spears, tipped with long metal spikes. Garcia raised his shield and felt one spear deflect off it. Then another spear hit and Garcia jerked back as the long metal tip pierced his shield and came all the way through, stopping just short of his eye! If I hadn’t pulled my head back…. He shrugged off the thought and tried to pull the spear from his shield, but the tip had bent over and jammed; the shield was useless with a five foot spear hanging from it! He threw it to the ground in disgust, let out another yell and charged at the wall of red shields facing him.
He swung his long sword again and again, each time striking the shields before him. The damned Romans were packed in close together, each shield virtually protecting two men! He had nowhere to strike with his large sword, but the Romans had no trouble jabbing and thrusting with their short swords from in between their shields. As Garcia looked around him in frustration, he saw that his brothers were having the same problem. He had never felt this helpless in battle! He fervently wished the Romans would break ranks and fight him as God intended; one on one! Matching his skills against anothers; but the Romans did not answer his wishes, and the machine slowly drove the Spaniards back. Garcia heard cries from his right, and glancing over he was shocked to see that their flank had been broken, and the Romans were sweeping in around them. Shock gave way to outright panic when he realized that the left flank had also fallen! He heard the captain yelling orders to him, but he had seen enough to know that this fight was lost. He dropped his sword from nerveless fingers, turned and fled.
The sky looked so blue today, and all the fear and panic had left Garcia del Estranza as he lay on his back, surrounded by the bodies of his countrymen. He had no idea how far he had gotten before he was knocked to the ground by a spear through his back. He looked around dreamily and saw his brothers being run down by the Roman light cavalrymen in scores. And still, the dreaded Roman infantry advanced in a great wall, sweeping up the fallen Spanish warriors. A tear rolled slowly down Garcia’s cheek; he knew this was the end of the Spanish resistance. The worlds dimmed slowly and his thoughts turned to his family as the Romans advanced on him.
“Centurion Glavius! We have another live one.”
Garcia saw a rugged face peering intently at him. Before the world turned to black, he heard the man’s words, and then no more,
“Hmmm, doesn’t look as though this one will make it. Well, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, throw him on the cart with the others….”

Originally posted by Louis XXIV

Click to expand...

eloquent


good story btw

The doors to Ceaser's antechamber were thrown open with a crash to reveal Crassus; a huge grin was spread across the big man's face and he spoke with a tone of merriment and glee, "We have done it Ceaser! We crushed the Spaniards at Stonehaven and finished the resistance. Ha! Not a Spaniard in the land will think about rebellion after..." He broke off as he saw the dark expression on his dear friend's face, "What is it, Julius? More bad news from Rome?"
Ceaser leaned back in his chair and regarded Crassus silently across his expansive desk for several moments.
"What is it Julius? Tell me what is...", again Crassus was cut off as Ceaser slid a note across the desk to Crassus and continued to look at Crassus with that same bleak, expressionless gaze.
Crassus returned the look for a moment before reading what was before him,
Dear Julius,
I fear I must write you with betrayal in my heart. After all, what can hurt more then the treachery of those closest to one's heart? We will always have Rome, yet distances can be so very decieving. What may seem so far away, can have a tremendous impact on us so quickly. realize that if you continue your present course, our future is doomed.

S

The letter slipped from Crassus' hand and he sat down heavily facing Ceaser. The silence between them stretched to eternity.
"You cannot believe that I would betray you, Julius."
Ceaser's expression turned from dark and grim to outright fury, "It seems to make sense to me know, old friend. Plots unfolding all around me, as the power I gain here in Spain increases my standing with the citizens. Senators fearful of what I may accomplish. Who better to watch me and report my plans back to the Senate then an old and trusted friend? Who better to stab me in the back? I begin to understand the stakes of this vile game now. I didn't fully appreciate the influence I had to gain with the conquering of this accursed land, yet obviously it is creating ripples that spread to the very heart of Rome, and back again to rip my life to shreds!"
By the last, Ceaser had risen his voice to the point that Crassus actually cringed back. He replied with a shocked expression that spread to his voice, "You can't believe that I would... I wouldn't... Julius, think man! How can you believe these letters? You don't even know who is sending them! Please..."
Ceaser smashed his fists down on the desk so hard that the inkwells overturned and small statuettes jumped. He stood abruptly, shaking with rage, "Whoever is sending these letters is a FRIEND! A TRUE friend! Why should I doubt them when it is so blindingly clear to me now! My family murdered! And for what? Oh yes, Crassus, I know that it was Romans who commited the massacre at Little Villa! Oh yes, I KNOW! Did you have a part in that too? Such coincidence that you show up now, in the midst of this turmoil? Very convenient!"
"Please, Julius! You have known me for years! don't do this!"
Julius started to come around the desk, before visibly shaking himself; forcing control on his ire.
"GET OUT! Go Crassus, My dear friend! It is only for the sake of our past that I do not have you executed! Hanged, no less, for your treachery. But know this, you are dead to me! Set foot in this province whilst I rule, and it will be the last steps you take."
Crassus stared at his long time friend in shock and disbelief. How could Julius believe this of him! Finally, a cold rage overtook him, and his jaw set itself hard and cool, "Very well, Julius Ceaser. Believe what you will. I will go. And for the sake of our friendship, I tell you this; consider the source of your information very carefully. You are caught in an intricate game with the Senate. Be careful not to aid them by folding yourself in a spider's web,for it will only benefit them."
As Julius stood, pale faced and filled with terrible rage, Crassus turned and walked out, but as he reached the door, he turned and looked Ceaser over with a gaze full of hurt, worry, and disappointment, "Whatever else, you never used to be a fool."
And then he was gone.
Ceaser sat back in his chair and stared into nothingness. Emotions ran rampant. What had he done? Were the letters sent to decieve and confuse him? No! The first had been true, and the second had rang true also! It made sense, dammit! It had to be true! It just had to be. Julius knew that he hadn't been thinking clearly since he had learned that his family had been slain; was it possible that he had misjudged? He had been so sure until he had seen the look on Crassus' face. Such emotions could not be truely falsified, could they? Ceaser buried his face in his hand and prayed to the Gods. He prayed that clarity of thought would be returned to him. He prayed that his family were safe within the Gods embrace. He prayed that he would survive this assault from Rome. He prayed. And when his servants brought him his lunch, they found Ceaser laughing uncontrollably into his hands, tears running down his grief-stricken face.