Episode 24 (40 AD):

Demosthenes had met a most peculiar individual in his cell. He was not only very curious about his experiences at the battles of Salamis and Plataea, but also about details of his daily life, his city, the Parthenon, the Agora, and when he was forced to flee Athens, leaving almost everything behind.

Claudius only asked once about how Demosthenes achieved immortality. Demosthenes said that he did not feel safe revealing it, to which the Roman nodded, continuing with his questions about society and culture in Greece. That man was a mystery to Demosthenes, as he seemed more interested in history and culture than in immortality... he also had a special interest in war.

The next day, he was visited again by the Italian, who asked him to tell him more about his battles, showing himself especially intrigued by this topic, since his descriptions of such wars were much more detailed than those written by a certain Herodotus, according to his words.

Demosthenes, infected by the fervor of his cell visitor, recounted:

—… that man, with the shining armor and the armored horse, was the king's cousin—the Greek recounted.— Desperate for seeing how we were defeating his troops, he himself charged against the first line, but without me realizing it, one of our men killed his horse and he had no choice but to run like a cowardly dog.

— Impressive! —Claudius exclaimed, his eyes wide. — Only a participant in such legendary battles could tell such stories!

The Greek laughed nervously and remembered the faces of the young men he had had to throw into the sea and the foreigners who had fallen under his sword.

— No... that wasn’t really impressive —he whispered—. I'm sorry, I don't want to talk about that.

Claudius watched him carefully, but seemed to understand why he decided to keep quiet about the war.

— Several veterans end up blaming themselves for having survived the war and not their comrades, don't feel guilty— He said, but that was not what the immortal felt. He undoubtedly experienced a deep sorrow for his fallen comrades, but also for the enemy. Perhaps that culture also glorified war like the Greeks did.

A silence fell over that putrid place. Trying to forget the horrors of war, the Athenian thought that if the emperor's uncle had called his battles "legendary," then...

— How long has it been since the Persian invasion?

Claudius took his time to respond.

—It's been around five hundred years now.

Demosthenes was stunned. A chill ran down his spine and his skin tightened. For his visitor, this was ancient history, just as the Trojan War seemed distant to Demosthenes as a child.

— Five hundred years! —He exclaimed.—How many things could happen in so many years? More than 10 lifetimes, no doubt. What has become of my Athens? My family? My slaves?

— I'm sorry, Demosthenes. Apart from your name and what you've told me, I don't know anything about you or your acquaintances — The Roman replied sadly. — Nowadays, the emperor, now my nephew Gaius, also rules the Hellenic lands. They were conquered after many battles, your compatriots fought fiercely, I must add. But I'm afraid it wasn't enough: when Athens finally fell under Roman rule, the conquest was over. That was over a hundred years ago.

Demosthenes could not bear such a revelation. His mouth went dry and he longed only to escape, but he had nowhere to go. Everything he had ever known had transformed beyond recognition; now even his hometown was under Zenodulos' control... The weight of immortality crushed him.

Only one name could give him a glimmer of hope.

— And Agatha? Do you know anything about her?

Claudio shook his head.

— She's your wife, isn't she? I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name. But I can help you, I...

Claudius was interrupted by several knocks on the door.

— Senator Claudius, it's time to go — Said a voice with obvious displeasure. It was the emperor's uncle's guards.

The middle-aged man stood up, visibly annoyed.

— I must leave for now, Demosthenes. But I promise I will return.

Taking a piece of bread from his tunic, he gave it to Demóstenes.

—Be patient— he said kindly. —I will get you out of here and help you find your wife.

Demosthenes' gaze followed Claudius until he disappeared. A lump formed in his throat.

—Thank you, Claudius.

As he chewed on the hard bread, Demosthenes pondered the vastness of time. Five hundred years had passed in a blink of an eye amidst his stone slumber. He wondered if he would ever see his beloved Agatha again, if he would find a place to live in this new Roman-dominated world, and if he would manage to escape the cell that imprisoned him.

The days followed one after another, and only boredom could fill Demosthenes' time. When he tired of formulating escape plans, he would curl up on the straw floor and reminisce about happy moments to pass the time. He wondered if what the Roman had said was true, if he would really help him escape and reunite with his beloved wife.

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He thought about what might have become of her after she was captured by the inhabitants who once dwelled in that distant region. Would she still be a statue or would she have escaped? Would she still be alive or had fate separated them forever? Demosthenes thought of revisiting that place if he had no luck in Athens.

Sometimes the faces of the other immortals would pop into his mind. If Zenodulos had not cruelly killed them, they would still be alive like him. He was curious to see his old slave Kharma again, hoping that she had been able to cope with such a life and that "Augustus Germanicus" had done nothing to her. He hoped that the cruel time they spent in Acacius's house had made the other immortal feel at least an ounce of compassion.

He also thought about the other two, but since he did not know them well, he could not reflect much on them. The merchant was possibly selling exotic goods in a world now more interconnected by Rome, while the hetaira must be using the benefits that eternal youth provided her.

A few days later, Claudius returned. This time, he brought a real lunch for the poor prisoner, consisting of a grain soup. Demosthenes drank it without care.

— It's the best meal I've had in 500 years— He said, remembering the austere meals he shared with Agatha in the forest.

—I'm glad you like it. — Claudius replied, sitting on the stool with a familiarity that contrasted with Zenodulos's arrogance.

Claudius observed the man in front of him with great curiosity, but also with respect. For him, Demosthenes was a grand figure, a being who had lived for hundreds of years and experienced history firsthand. Although for the convict, immortality and the memory of his battles were nothing more than an endless torture.

The meetings between the two men became increasingly frequent, where they talked about a wide range of topics. Claudius was interested in every detail of Demosthenes' life in Athens, from politics to everyday life. In return, Claudius described the current situation of the empire: Rome dominated much of Europe, expanding from Hispania to Judea and from Gaul to Egypt. Demosthenes only knew some of these places by name, such as Egypt and Gaul, after all it was hard to forget the place where he spent hundreds of years asleep. Intrigued by Claudius' stories, one day he decided that he also wanted to know his story.

—My father was a famous general—Claudius began—you have no idea of the large number of stories I've heard about his courage in battle. But I couldn't witness even one, since I was just a baby when he died, falling from his horse. So many battles, to die in such a way.

Claudius sighed heavily.

—In any case, he was a hero, if only I had inherited something from him besides his face.—Claudius paused—As for the rest of my family... well, they've always seen me as a freak, a phenomenon that they had to keep away from the public eye. So, with all that free time at home, I started reading. I was fascinated above all by history, and in my youth I even wrote a book about... well, I don't think you know anything about the civil war between Augustus and Mark Antony. What I will tell you is that I wrote a few things in there that enraged my family and that setback prevented me from having any political or military position... besides my own oddities, of course.

—I wouldn't never imagined it...

Demosthenes looked at him with interest, although he didn't fully understand Claudius' references, he took pity on him, noticing in his words a humility very different from the arrogance of the "emperor". There was no more time to wait then, this man had to know the truth.

—Changing the subject... — Demosthenes said cautiously— What can you tell me about your nephew?

—I suppose you're referring to Caius... he was just a child when I knew him, he was such a nice boy. —Claudius saddened at the memory of the past—. Do you know? In the midst of his battles, my brother Germanicus dressed him in a soldier's uniform to distract the troops. Since then, we call him "Caligula", which means "little boots". Now only his family and... His critics call him that.

—Have you noticed any change in him since then?

Claudius nodded with a hint of sadness.

— Yes, one day Caligula changed abruptly. He suffered a serious illness shortly after ascending to the throne. The doctors told us he was on the brink of death, and we were all so worried. My poor nephew was bedridden and in between periods of consciousness, he would ask us what he had done to the gods to suffer such a fate. Then, he suddenly recovered, but something changed in him, he became... different. With each passing day, he becomes more cruel and paranoid.

A chill ran down Demosthenes' spine. Now everything made sense. It was at that moment that Zenodulos supplanted him.

Demosthenes pondered for a few moments, unsure of how to reveal the truth to Claudius, but he felt that he should know, he should know the truth about his nephew.

—Claudius... —He said with a trembling voice.

—Yes...? — The Italian observed the Greek with apprehension, sensing that something unexpected was about to be revealed.

— I have to tell you something terrible... Caius, your nephew, died years ago when he fell ill. The one ruling Rome as emperor is my former slave, another immortal: Zenodulos.

Claudius was petrified, his mouth open in surprise. His gaze went to the floor, then to his hands, and finally returned to Demosthenes' eyes.

—I can't believe it... —He murmured—. But... it would make sense. It's possible that Zenodulos poisoned him to make it look like he was sick. And then, right under our noses, he took advantage of the situation to replace him. That would explain his sudden change in attitude... How could we have been so stupid?

Demosthenes had already told him about the other immortal, the man who had forced him to flee his home with his wife and who possessed the power to deceive everyone with his words. That's why Claudius believed him so quickly.

The Italian fell silent again, his face even paler than usual.

—So that's Zenodulos, the cruel being you were talking about —Claudius murmured with a tense voice, his fists clenched in fury .— That explains why he pushed the senators into the stands filled with hungry animals and wasted countless resources on his ridiculous 'war against Neptune'. That damned bastard. He's been playing with us like we're puppets. But Caius' death will not go unpunished.

Demosthenes felt sorry for Caligula's uncle's sadness, but paradoxically, he felt safe. Finally, he seemed to have a real ally in this world so far from his native Athens.

With caution, he inquired:

—What are you going to do with this information?

— There is a plot between the Praetorian Guard and several senators to execute Caligula... or rather, Zenodulos. Many of the soldiers are tired of his mockery and shameful nicknames, while the senators... I don't think I need to repeat his cruelty towards them. Even the plebs are furious about the execution of famous gladiators at every event.

Demosthenes, feeling increasingly confident in revealing information to this mortal, warned him:

— There is something else you should know. Only an immortal can kill another. Otherwise, the plot will fail.

Claudio nodded.

—In that case, Demosthenes, you must be part of the plot —He said with great conviction.— But I ask for your patience: it will be executed in five days, during the games in honor of Caesar Augustus in the old palace. They will catch him off guard when he is alone with his guards.

The Greek, with caution, implored:

—I ask you not to reveal the information about my life and immortality to the other participants without care. Zenodulos is a cunning serpent.

—I know. Don't worry, my friend. After living with my family for so long, I have learned a thing or two about the power games.

And with those words, Claudius left, leaving Demosthenes lost in thought. He was not completely sure about the plot, but it seemed to be the only way to escape and, in addition, to stop Zenodulos. Although he felt a certain repugnance at the thought of murdering his former slave, especially since his father trusted him so much, he was reassured by the thought that such trust was merely Zenodulos deceiving his master.

Now all that remained was to wait for the fateful day, when it would be revealed whether he could trust Claudius and the plot.