Superbia metimur

Historiae nostrae magnitudinem

“We are almost there. Are you ready?”

Ardellius’s smile caused Justinius to have a thrill of anticipation and fear in equal measure. He straightened his cloak about his shoulders and brushed his fine blue tunic as he nodded. “I believe so…Lumina?”

Lumina appeared completely calm, her long, green dress swirling about her ankles in the breeze. A pink sash of silk, borrowed from Lavinia, was tired about her waist and accentuated her form. She looked beautiful and completely confident, ready for a party with a famous writer and self-proclaimed philosopher. Justinius felt the difference between them quite clearly. She nodded to him and said with a hint of humor, “I am dying with anticipation.”

They had left the Honerius mansion earlier upon Ardellius’s arrival. Corbenus had not been pleased and Justinius, to his shame, hurried them away before his father could arrive home, sneaking from the house like brash school children. He hadn’t asked but he was almost sure his father would not have approved this outing.

The streets of Aquilla, shining so brightly in the day, seemed dreary and unwholesome by the light of the fading sun. Though they were cleaned regularly and servants lit braziers outside homes, the scene was still foreboding. Justinius leaned close to Ardellius to ask quietly, “Are you sure it will be safe to walk home alone after dark? I hear the most awful kinds of stories of what happens to people who wander the streets in the dark.”

Ardellius laughed. He spun around, walking backward and throwing out his arms to show off his shining red tunic. “The stories are true! The most terrible things can happen…in the poor district. Up here, there are regular patrols of the watch and guardsmen in all the mansions. Just call out and they will emerge within seconds. We will be perfectly safe. Just one more corner!”

Upon turning the street corner, Justinius saw a large mansion at the end of a street in a cul de sac. The building was impressive in size, taking up three corners of the turn. Gardens stretched around it on one side overlooking the river and a large, columned building was on the other side. The center structure stood three stories high and dominated all other houses in the area. The sight was impressive yet contradictory. Though impressive in scope and grandeur, the building had a faded, beaten look to it, its walls tinged with burn marks, and the place looked rather unkempt and run down as if it had suffered some fire damage in the past and was then neglected for some time. Reconstruction efforts could even now be seen in several sections of the building.

The sight would have taken Justinius’s breath away, but the unfolding of events in front of it took his attention away before he could get a better look. A crowd was gathered in the doorway and laughing raucously while an older man, dressed in a fine tunic and sandals was shouting at a man who was clearly inebriated. The front of this man’s tunic was covered in a mixture of wine stains and vomit. Two guards flung him into the street where he rolled unceremoniously on the ground and lay there, groaning and muttering curses. The elder gentleman waved his hand with a bark of laughter. “Begone, cousin! I have no time for your manners or your ambitions! Come back when you are sober and wiser! Guards, make sure his lion follows him home! Perhaps he will forget to feed it and it will devour him and rid us of his company for good.”

The guards prodded a lion out with great caution as the crowd scattered to allow it through them. It growled and prowled its way to its owner and sat beside him, staring at the approaching guests with bright, golden eyes. Justinius and Lumina backed away, each huddling closer to the other for mutual protection. Ardellius laughed at this. “Come! It is only Mamillus Cantorius! He gets drunk and inappropriate at every party. That’s his pet lion, Whiskers.”

Justinius and Lumina looked at one another then followed Ardellius, giving the lion and the drunk man on the ground a wide berth. The guests were filing back indoors, the spectacle over as their host, Virgilus Cantorius, ushered them in with sweeping gestures. “Come now! Let the celebration continue.”

“Continue?” asked Justinius.

Ardellius nodded, pulling him and Lumina forward by their arms. “His parties start well before evening. Ho! Virgilus! Greetings! I bring you new guests!”

Virgilius turned about and Justinius got a clear look at him now. He was older than it first appeared but his face was alight with energy, enthusiasm, and humor. His hair was thinning on top and his face held a wispy beard that matched his hair in its whiteness. He was thin and looked rather malnourished, the skin on his arms hanging like a worn-out shirt upon his bones. He smiled widely revealing perfectly white teeth. “Ardellius! You rogue! I wondered when you would show!”

The two men embraced each other before he turned with interest to the two standing awkwardly behind them. “And who are these two? They have stories to tell. I can feel it.”

Ardellius gestured them forward. “It is my pleasure to present Justinius Honerius, half-gen son of the virtuous Horatius Honerius, and his guest, Lumina Humilius, a Carxandrian diplomat on a mission to save her country.”

The eyes sparkled with even greater light and life as the man smiled, took Lumina’s hand, and kissed it lightly. “Delighted.” He turned to Justinius. “And at last! I get to meet you! I haven’t seen you since you were a young boy being taken from your father's home in a covered wagon to hide his shame! Not that you would let a thing like that stop you! I saw your curious and eager face peering from beneath the flaps and I said to myself, ‘there is a boy who will be a scholar, mark my words!’”

Justinius was startled. “You know me…of me?”

He was suddenly embraced in a warm hug as Virgilus pulled him in and squeezed him and just as quickly released him. “Of course! You were the most interesting secret to occur in Horatius Honerius’s life! No one ever knew who it was he had you with or where he had you! All we knew was that a few years after his first wife's death, a rumor was circulating that a child had shown up on his doorstep with a note saying your name and that you were his child. He neither confirmed nor denied it but simply took you in! But of course, seeing your face clearly now, it is no doubt you are his.”

Justinius felt, within a few moments, his whole world turning upside down as parts of his past were revealed that he had never heard his father speak of. His shocked expression, mouth agape, and eyes wide, caused Virgilus to chuckle. “You didn’t know that, did you? Oh, we are going to have fun tonight! Come in, come in! Make yourselves comfortable! We are just serving the third course! Much more yet to come!”

They were ushered through the front door and atrium, into an enormous banquet hall. “Ignore the hole in the roof!” said Virgilus as they passed under a piece of the building under construction. “It adds a festive air to the party to have fresh air sweeping through.”

They were hastily brought toward the large tables set about the room. “Help yourself!” said Virgilus. “Just find the food you like; it's sure to be somewhere on the table. The wine is over there.” He gestured toward a table set against hanging draperies of scarlet. “There is water there too. I find that I cannot stand the custom of playing the part of the upstart host and choosing the water level in the guest's wine. In my home, each guest may choose how watered down their wine is based on their own preference. When you have gathered your food, come sit by me at the head table. I would much rather talk to new guests than to the same boring lot.”

“I’m offended!” said Ardellius mockingly.

“Hush you!” said Virgilus, shooing him away mockingly. “I lost interest in you a long time ago. You are amusing at best and not interesting in the least.”

“Just as I like it!” said Ardellius with a laugh. “I shall enjoy myself!”

“Oh, you have no trouble doing that.”

Justinius and Lumina were left to their own devices as they were handed plates by some servants and wandered toward the tables stacked high with food. There was such an abundance that Justinius was reminded of the harvest feast he had thrown for the citizens of Reducta Village. There was enough here to feed the whole village for a week. The selection, however, was most peculiar.

Lumina nudged his elbow and gestured with her chin. “What is that?”

They were staring at round, spiked balls that looked impossible to eat without impaling themselves. Justinius shrugged. “I have no idea. Those things over there look like tongues. And I’m not sure I want to know what the gray matter is.”

“I know that,” said Lumina. “That’s Garum.”

“What?”

“Fermented fish guts. They make a rather nice sauce actually.”

Justinius felt his stomach lurch as he looked about. “Let’s just find the bread, cheese, and meats.”

“I think those tongues do count as meat.”

“Meat that’s not disturbing to think about.”

They both sniggered quietly as they continued to mock other dishes. They stared awkwardly at the head of a large bird and laughed as they speculated on what it might say to its current predicament, cringed at the sight of stuffed mice, bloated beyond normal size and being devoured at a rapid pace by the guests, and poked at a fleshy looking sack before retreating hastily when told it was a sow’s womb with cooked piglet inside.

Finally, after collecting cheeses, bread, and lamb, they made their way to the wine, and both watered down their drink considerably. A man was tipsy by the jars and tried to speak to them but it came out mostly gibberish. They hurried away as he called after them, “How rude!”

As they approached Virgilus, who was reclining at the head table, he called to them. “Ah! At last! Move aside Barnabus and take the lower seat. I have more interesting guests to attend to.”

Barnabus looked none too pleased to shift aside and find another seat but he did so with mutters. Justinius and Lumina sat together in the same seat, not reclining like the rest but sitting up with some room between them for their elbows. Virgilus took a large swig from his cup and then smacked appreciatively. “The wise man waters liberally, so that he may imbibe more! Tell me, how do you find my home?”

Justinius nodded. “It’s very nice.”

Lumina finished her mouthful of bread and commented, “It looks rather ill-kept.”

Justinius cringed at her comment but Virgilus roared with laughter. “I will like you, won’t I?!”

Lumina raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond beyond popping a grape in her mouth. Virgilus continued. “I will admit, the question was a trick. This house is, technically, not mine. It belonged to Boethius Cantorius, the so-called famous Tyrant who tried to take over the Republic fifteen years ago. Upon his untimely demise on the field of battle, his house was looted and badly damaged. Since there were few Cantorius left, and even fewer with money, I decided to buy the place and refurbish it. It has been a long process and one that has been costly…but I enjoy living here despite the stain it has in the minds of those left alive from that conflict to remember.”

Justinius nodded as he listened. “I suppose you know a great deal about the event. I have yet to read your history on it as my father did not have the book at his villa.”

“I know a great many things! I will say though, that has been my most fascinating book to date. Though most read it for its gory details and scandals .”

“I suppose it would be accurate,” said Justinius, “Seeing you were there and privy to family secrets.”

“Oh, not so much. I tried to avoid most of it and was never privy to any of my cousin's secrets.”

“Is that how you survived?” asked Lumina. “You abandoned your family to their fate and switched sides?”

Justinius felt himself blush as he looked at her, eyes wide. What was she doing being so rude? Virgilus simply laughed again. “Always to the point I see! No, my dear Carxandrian. I might say that I didn’t join him because I believed he was in the wrong! But in truth, that would likely have gotten me killed just as much as believing in him would have.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Because he killed those who were against his cause.”

“Then how did you survive?”

He raised a finger, smiling broadly. “Ah…by not caring!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She gave him an incredulous look, sipping her wine. He laughed and shook his head. “No! I swear to you it is true! My cousin saw me as nothing more than a fool who didn’t care about politics! And in truth, he had a point. Back then, I didn’t care. I still don’t. However, I am willing to pay more attention to politics even if I don’t care.”

“What was he like…the Tyrant?” Justinius asked, his attention fully wrapped on the man before him.

“Ah, well, he was not that interesting. A rather ordinary person in fact. Everyone has painted him to be some larger-than-life villain…but to be honest he wasn’t that good-looking, evil, or even smart. He was just a man like many others. Now, if you really wanted an interesting person with all the potential for a heroic story and character, that would be your brother, Paulus, as I’m sure you know.”

Justinius blushed. He hardly knew his older brother of ten years. Virgilus saw his face and stopped speaking, tilting his head inquisitively. Justinus stammered, “I…I hardly know my…half-brother. I was quite young when I was sent to the villa and he was banished for joining the Tyrant during my time there, that is all.”

Virgilus sputtered on a cup of wine and coughed, spitting drops in Justinius’s face and causing him to jerk back, startled. He, in turn, bumped into Lumina who was thankfully nimble and strong enough to hold her own and stop his movement. Virgilus’s coughed turned into a hack as his eyes watered and he waved his hand, croaking, “I am so sorry my boy! I just… it's incredible…his own brother doesn’t even know about the legend that is Paulus.”

Justinius wiped his face with his arm and blinked. “What are you talking about? He’s a legend?”

“Or he was well on his way to becoming one!” said Virgilus. “It is peculiar that your father decided not to share his history with you.”

“Why would he?” asked Justinius. “He’s a son who disgraced him through betrayal and in his mercy he banished him.”

“Oh, to be sure, he was banished for betraying your father,” said Virgilus with a wave, “But your father was neutral in the whole affair for the first year. That was hardly the only reason he banished him.”

“Why else?” asked Justinius? “Surely you don’t also believe he was magic, do you?”

“I am not one to speak to the truth of that,” said Virgilus, his voice going low with excitement. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. After all, he was gifted with a prophecy at the age of sixteen by a mysterious oracle.”

The instant look of incredulity on the faces of both Justinius and Lumina caused him to throw up his hands and scoff. “Ah! The mere mention of prophecy and I have lost the attention of my audience!”

Justinius shook his head. “Forgive me…but prophecy has been a trope used by everyone. I am not one to believe in the supernatural.”

Lumina nodded behind him. “I do not believe in the Aquillan gods or your priests' omens.”

“Not that we mean any offense,” interrupted Justinius. “But…are you being serious?”

Virgilus shrugged. “It is not my goal to be serious or even truthful, only entertaining. I am simply telling you what I heard from others, even from the source himself.”

“You heard this from my brother himself?”

“Oh yes. I told you he was the most fascinating figure in that bloody civil war.”

“And…he told you about the prophecy?”

Virgilus leaned back and stared into space, his eyes alight. “Not in its entirety, no. But he did tell me the general idea behind it. It was a fascinating conversation.” He turned on Lumina. “And before you go rolling your eyes at my story, I would like to add that the prophecy came from a wandering traveler, a mysterious man who claimed to speak as a vessel for the Cause.”

Lumina jerked up in her seat with surprise, unable to mask the interest that suddenly crossed her face. Virgilus chuckled. “That lit a spark didn’t it. Now…where was I going with this?”

Justinius leaned over, his plate and cup forgotten. “Can you tell us what he said?”

“About the prophecy,? Yes, of course. Let me think. It was so long ago, at a party hosted by the Tyrant in which all of his loyal followers and leeches like myself attended. I was sitting next to young Paulus, who was no more than eighteen at the time, and he told me the most fascinating story. It was after the battle with the forces under Magnus Conditius, where the Republican army was firmly routed by the Tyrant’s. Paulus was a centurion and had led his troops valiantly, almost single-handedly causing the tide to turn in their favor. He told me that, as he wandered the battlefield, a figure had emerged from the smoke and mist. He was dressed in white robes and was bending over the dying, muttering prayers and incantations over them.

“When Paulus approached him, the figure spoke in a solemn voice that convinced your brother he was someone with immense authority. He told me that he was shaken to his very core, moved beyond his understanding to listen to the voice. Of course, I scoffed at this and asked what this magnanimous voice said. He replied that it foretold his future, the doom of Aquilla and that he would raise civilization from the gates of death itself.”

Virgilus paused, clearly for dramatic effect. Lumina and Justinius remained completely enthralled by his tale. Lumina sat back and stared into her cup, “I have heard of such prophets…but could it be?”

Justinius, however, shook his head. “And did you believe his story? I remember my brother very little but I do know he had a sense for the dramatic.”

“I did not,” said Virgilus. “I don’t doubt that he believed he was telling the truth but, as he was telling the prophecy in his own words, I told him I didn’t believe him. I asked for the actual words, which can so often be misinterpreted, and he refused to share them. He said they were not for the ears of a drunken fool who did not believe in the spiritual.”

Justinius blushed. “I’m sorry he was…”

“Oh, hush now!” Virgilus waved his hand. “He was right, of course. I didn’t believe in the spiritual then and still don’t. I was also, admittedly, rather tipsy at the time. As for being a fool, I like to hold to that wise old Cumultin philosophical saying: the truly wise man knows he is a fool and that he knows nothing.”

Lumina drained her cup and then stood abruptly, frowning at the host. “Another who doesn’t believe in what is evident. I feel I am in need of another drink. Will you excuse me?”

Virgilus waved her off. “Of course! Help yourself!”As she left the table to return to the wine jars, Justinius turned back to Virgilus. “Does my father know about this prophecy?”

The old man nodded. “He does indeed. It is yet another reason why he banished your brother. He felt pity, I’m sure, but also a sense of duty to preserve someone with a prophecy hanging over his head, especially one of that magnitude. Whether he has heard the whole prophecy is hard to say. I suppose you should ask him.”

Justinius shook his head. “No thank you. I don’t think he would take that very well. He hardly likes me mentioning my brother as it is.”

“Mmm, yes, a sore spot for him, I’m sure.” Virgilus was distracted and he pointed down the hall for Justinius. “It would seem Barnabus is aiming outside his league again.”

Justinius looked toward the drinks to see Lumina, filling a cup, was being harassed by the man who had sat by Virgilus earlier. He was clearly intoxicated if not completely drunk and was standing quite close to her as he waved his hands animatedly and puffed out his chest. Justinius began to rise in concern when he felt Virgilus put a hand on his arm. “Wait…let us see how your companion responds.”

Lumina, clearly uninterested, turned away and, when Barnabus pursued her, she turned back to him and spoke harshly with a scowl upon her face. Barnabus took on a melancholic expression and seemed quite cowed. Virgilus chuckled. “He seeks the use of the love god to pull her in with accurate aim, but the love god remains tipsy by the jars; both more likely to swoon over themselves.”

Justinius smiled at this and sighed with relief when Ardellius suddenly appeared and deftly pulled Lumina away in a pretense of conversation. He turned to Virgilus. “Did you just make that up?”

The old poet shook his head. “No, it is an old line I wrote for the many failed attempts at flirting I have witnessed.”

“I don’t believe I have ever read that line in your works.”

He shook his head. “It isn’t in my works. Just a personal anecdote.” He turned to Justinius, his eyes alight again. “Have you read much of my works?”

Justinius nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement as he sat up straight. “I have read everything I could get my hands on. Your work inspires me. It’s so real to the world around us. I love how it points out the hypocrisy of the elites as well as the common people in equal measure. I have only missed your history of the Tyrant because my father refused to purchase one for the estate library.”

Virgilus smiled, waving his hand. “You are too kind. Would you like to see my library?”

“Really?! I would love to!”

Justinius followed him out of the dining room, ignored by the guests in general. He made sure to check on Lumina before leaving. She was still talking with Ardellius and Justinus felt a pang of envy at the man's ability to remain so calm and confident around her. This was soon swept from his mind as he followed the old scholar through his house and into the private rooms. After passing through a long hallway, Justinius found himself in another large, open room. Pillars lined one side of the room, facing the street, and a large balcony overlooked the river below on the other side. Justinius recognized it from when he viewed it on the street as being the left-wing of the building.

What he hadn’t realized was its purpose. It was a massive indoor garden, wild and unkempt, holding varied plants taking their last breath of life before the winter. The flowers had died and creeping vines stretched up walls and the pillars. Justinius stared in wonder. “Is this yours?”

“It is now,” said Virgilus. “Many people don’t know this, but the Tyrant had quite the green thumb and loved caring for his personal garden.”

Justinius was letting that strange fact sink in when Virgilus pulled his arm. “This isn’t what I brought you to see.”

They made their way through the garden to a half wall which created an alcove in the corner of the room. When they entered, the only light came from the open door that led to the large balcony outside. Virgilus cursed. “The servants haven’t lit the lanterns apparently. Excuse me for one moment.”

He exited but left Justinius standing in the doorway. Justinius knew what he was looking at, even in the dim light from both doorways. There were tall shelves all about him. It was a library. Virgilus returned with a torch and lit the two lanterns in the doorway. He then placed the torch in a sconce as he muttered, “Now, where are my extra copies…”

It was indeed a library, quite large though it took up only a corner of the massive garden room. It was secluded from the garden by a wall that extended from one corner of the room to the balcony along its side. This room was crammed with precious treasures: scrolls, parchments, stitched papyrus bundles, and clay tablets. There seemed to be little order to the system as all the items, written on different materials, were scattered together on the various shelves or on the table in the center of the room. Virgilus was muttering as he searched with a lantern through a pair of shelves in the corner of the room. “I know I left my items here…treatise on…ugh, no, boring! My worst work I’m sure. Ah! Here it is.”

He flourished a scroll and brought it to Justinius. “My work on the Tyrant’s war. You may take it with you.”

Justinius’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. “I…I can’t take this! This is priceless!”

Virgilus chuckled. “Hardly. It is a copy made by a scribe. I have several of them. Please, take it. It is yours.”

Justinius bowed his head and took it gently in his hands. He unrolled the first section and saw the title. It was indeed, “The Tyrant Wars, a researched and eyewitness account of the civil war of Aquilla, 743, by Virgilus Cantorius.” Justinius felt unable to speak.

Virgilus gestured toward the shelves. “I have other works you can borrow if you wish.”

Justinius looked about. “I wouldn’t know where to start…and I would hesitate to remove them from this room! Thank you!”

“It is my pleasure,” said Virgilus. “I suspect you are a bit of a writer yourself, what with all that time spent on your father’s villa.”

Justinius shook his head. “No. Well…a little. I have written a few things.”

“And what are they?”

“My own takes on history but mostly…you will think it is silly…”

“And do you presume to be the authority on what is silly?!” Virgilus laughed and threw up his hands. “I have collections of all sorts of writings in here, and most of the silly ones are my own. Come! I enjoy the preposterous.”

Justinius took a breath before speaking. “Well…they are folk tales from the locals, mostly about the Aequendar, fair folk, and ancient ones.”

Virgilus shook his head, clearly aghast. “How is that silly in the slightest! I think folk tales are extremely important! They keep tradition and tales older than history alive. I should very much like to see your writings.”

Justinius felt his face grow bright red. “I…don’t have them with me. I left them at my father’s villa.”

“Then you must write them down here! You must come over as often as you can and write your stories for my collection and read as much as you can from my library!”

Justinius felt his voice going again but was able to stammer out. “Of course! I would love to.”

“Good!”

Justinius glanced at the scroll in his hand then around at the library. “Was this an interest of the Tyrant as well?”

“Gods, no! He was more interested in burning or destroying works he found to be…propaganda. It was a very wide collection. No, this entire work is all my own collection. I have a much greater interest in writings than gardening, as the conditions to both rooms can attest.”

“This is all yours?”

“Indeed. I have information of all kinds and from all cultures.”

Justinius turned to him. “Why? Not that I don’t like it…I am simply curious as to your reasoning.”

Virgilus glanced about the room, his normally jovial look fading ever so slightly. “It is a sad truth…that the first thing to go with a civilization tends to be its knowledge. Great minds fade away or die. Information is lost or destroyed. I would preserve as much of it as I could. Though history tells me that even if I collect thousands of works so as to amass a huge library…one day some violent imbeciles will destroy it all and thousands of years of information, stories, and history…will disappear in a cloud of smoke.”

Justinius nodded along as Virgilus spoke, soaking in the man's every word. This man, his idol in writing for so many years, was proving to be better than even he had imagined. He suddenly felt the need to contribute his own feelings on the matter. “I cannot stand to see any work destroyed…even information that I consider to be rubbish or outright propaganda. The written word has power, no matter how it is used. It seems a shame to destroy such knowledge and power for fleeting, personal whims.”

Virgilus’s smile was wide and he seemed to swell with joy. “You and I think alike. That is also why I house so much history here.” He gestured to a section of shelving. “That entire wall alone is dedicated to histories from all over, many of them written from my own research.”

“History is fascinating, isn’t it?”

“More than that!” Virgilus walked over to it, lifting his lantern high and Justinius stood beside him. They stared at the shelves in silence and Justinius turned to contemplate the man's face. Virgilus seemed lost in thought, his eyes wandering the shelves and seeing a scenario play out in his head that only he could witness. “Man…is so determined to forget his past. He seems bent on relearning all that has already been learned by those before. If I could have one wish for this library…it is to remind men that they do not need to relearn.”

Justinius had a thought enter his head and he spoke without thinking. “Even if it is inaccurate?”

Virgilus smiled. “Especially if it is inaccurate. History written by victors and vengeful people has lessons to teach as much as those that tell the truth. Some bias clouds every history. But they all have a lesson to teach. Between the lines, beneath the emotion, the truth is found.”

They stared at the shelves for a moment longer before Virgilus shook his head. “Enough emotional speeches! We have a party to get back to attending! My goodness…next time I begin to ramble like that, please make sure to shut me up!”

Justinius took this to heart, but not as the author had desired. He was sure that he would never stop the man from speaking any thought that he was ever fortunate enough to hear.