The villages near the capital appeared less scruffy, but the people looked meaner. They didn’t like us Vetulonians being there. They stood by the road, glancing towards us with menacing eyes. We either ignored them or stared back, amused.
In the last village before the capital, which was set about a league from the city, stones began raining on our band. At first it was small pebble stones, but they grew larger and larger. The Porosians started giggling like idiots and their lack of manners made my blood boil. At one point Tiberius had enough. He lifted his right arm, signaling the whole company to stop. Porosians went completely silent.
“SWORDS!” he yelled with his deep voice. All the legionaries, even the ones riding the donkey carts, drew their blades. He then turned to the villagers.
“Who can speak for you?” asked our Lord with an intimidating confidence. The villagers looked panicky. Long moments of silence followed until one of the elders stepped forward.
“You?” ask Tiberius with a mocking voice. The man nodded and I sort of felt sorry for him. I could see the fear in him.
“I suggest you tell your people to disband. If one more stone flies towards us... I don’t care if a bird drops it... I will order my legionaries to capture all of you men... And rape you with their blades, while your women and children watch. Do you understand my words?” The man nodded, but said nothing.
“Look into my eyes,” said Tiberius kindly, as if he’s trying to seduce the old man. The man blushed. He looked at the scary foreigner, but soon retracted his gaze towards his feet.
“Apologies,” he mumbled. Villagers started to disperse. Mothers chased children to their homes, while men, red in their face, followed them.
“Tiberius, you don’t have to start with the most horrible threat you can think of,” Julia laughed.
Tiberius smirked: “But it worked!”
The capitol was set near a river, on a large open plain. I knew there were mountains in the distance, but on that day they weren't visible. The city walls were of dark oppressive red color. The city smelled. I could smell its foul odor from half a league away.
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“They could benefit from an aqueduct or two,” Otho, the sheltered rich-boy cried out, making me laugh.
About half a league from the city gates we were greeted by our hosts. There were two of them, two men. One of them was a military man, and I imagined he was the king’s captain of the guard – or something to that extent. And the other was the king himself. You could tell it was him by the tacky gold crown on his head. It had more than ten points and underneath those points were blue stones. In preparations for the mission I had read a great deal about Porosia, so I knew the king was young. But somehow in my mind I still imagined him to be old. He had blue eyes and blonde curly hair. His clothes seemed pompous. Puffy white tunic, long red cape, a beautiful armor made of silver and gold. He also wore several rings, all gold with colorful gems. I stared at his blue eyes, but I couldn’t get anything out of him. He was hard to read.
“Welcome, Vetulonians. I do hope you traveled well,” he greeted us with an ambiguous voice.
“Well enough,” Tiberius smirked, but said nothing more than that. The king then introduced himself and his companion, and Tiberius did the same.
“Come, you must be tired. Lord Tiberius, please ride with me.”
Tiberius joined him, while the king's captain rode his horse next to Julia. We followed and the long line started moving again.
“He’s quite handsome,” said Flavia after a while.
“Who?” I asked, “The king?”
“Who else?”
“He seems vane to me,” I responded.
“What does that have to do with him being handsome?” she persisted.
“Nothing at all,” I admitted.
“I agree with Antonius,” said Cecilia, “He seems full of himself.”
“Well, I think he’s handsome. What do you think, Otho?”
“I couldn't care less,” he answered. “It is completely irrelevant… There is a good chance that by spring his head will be on a spike.” He said that with an odd indifference, as if his mind was burdened by dark thoughts and our petty chat had annoyed him. I noticed this peculiar behavior of his when we were sailing to Porosia. And once or twice during the summer. Moods, he called it. I knew the source of his torment. The voice of his father and the squeals of his mother were still present in his mind. The world in front of us was frightening and the cage of his childhood somehow made more sense. I felt for him. So I rode my horse closer to him, gently took his hand and kissed it.
“You moody donkey,” I laughed and let go of his arm. My action startled him, but then his face became less gloomy and a slight smile appeared out of the darkness. I again laughed, while Flavia and Cecilia looked each other, rolling their eyes.