Authors: Mark Henrikson
Time
screeched to a halt as Hastelloy watched Pompey’s cavalry bear down on the tall grass. In unison, three hundred men rose from their hiding place among the three foot tall greenery and hurled javelins at Pompey’s unsuspecting cavalry. From Hastelloy’s vantage point he saw half of Pompey’s horseman go down in the volley. As the horsemen wheeled about to run away, a second wave of needle sharp wood inflicted another devastating wave of casualties.
The
coup de grâce came when Caesar’s formerly retreating cavalry charged back at full speed sending Pompey’s horsemen running for their lives in every direction. Caesar’s men reformed and promptly smashed into Pompey’s left side.
In a matter of minutes
, Caesar’s army managed to wheel around Pompey’s left wing to envelope the entire force into an insanely tight circle, the soldiers barely had room to swing a sword as Caesar sent in his reserve veterans to finish the job. Those in Pompey’s army who did not die immediately soon threw down their arms in surrender as the situation was utterly hopeless.
Up on the hilltop Hastelloy heard the roar of horse hooves approaching the tree he was made to embrace. He rotated his body around to the other side of the trunk in time to see Pompey riding
by with a cluster of bodyguards a hundred yards behind. Pompey didn’t make eye contact or even utter a word as he rode past his captive. Hastelloy had something to say though.
“I told you so you arrogant
fool. Pompey the Great, more like Pompey the Fake.” As the body guards rode past he hollered one last remark. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you left. I hear Egypt is nice this time of year; go enjoy yourself.”
That got a response as Pompey shot a menacing look over his shoulder. At least as menacing
a look as a grown man running with his tail between his legs could possibly convey.
Over an hour later, after the surrender of Pom
pey’s army was all but complete; three men on horseback approached the tree. Tomal was on the left side with a young teenager on the right and Caesar himself occupying the middle position.
“Ah
, Senator Brutus,” Caesar said in a conversational tone. “You appear to be in a rough way at the moment. Either that or you’ve developed a plant fetish I was not previously aware of.”
“I prefer my sexual partners to have softer skin I’m afraid,” Hastelloy chided. “Would you mind breaking these chains
? This is a terribly uncomfortable position.”
“You don’t want me to do that
, Senator,” Caesar sighed. “If I free you it will only be to add a cross-beam to that tree and nail you to it. That way everyone will know from this day forth any traitor to the Republic will be crucified for their crimes. It’s your choice, but I’d wager being nailed to that cross would be less comfortable than your current predicament.”
“T
raitor?” Hastelloy responded. “I’m a duly elected Senator of the Republic. My duty was to resist any invader, and that is precisely what I did. If you mean to execute me then get on with it, but at least be honest about why you’re killing me. You think I betrayed you, not the Republic.”
“I did not invade the Republic
,” Caesar challenged. “I approached Rome with one single legion; one. I left the rest of the army to protect the Roman province of Gaul. One legion did not constitute an invasion, it was a glorified honor guard for a Tribune who was assaulted in the senate house.
“
You and your Optimate allies violated sacrosanct,” Caesar continued. “Every citizen of Rome takes an oath to regard those laying violent hands on a Tribune as enemies of the state, regardless of their station.”
“So all this bloodshed has been about you carrying out a death sentence on Pompey for punching a Tribune?” Hastelloy asked.
“Not just Pompey,” Caesar corrected. “Every man who took part in the offense as well, and Senator, I am afraid that includes you.”
“Now hold on,” Hastelloy shouted. “I was the one who restrained Pompey. I pulled him off the Tribune
in order to observe sacrosanct.”
Caesar looked to his left at Tomal. “Y
ou were the one assaulted, does the Senator speak the truth?”
Tomal looked Hastelloy
over from head to toe and took his time about it. The man thoroughly enjoyed his current position of superiority over Hastelloy; he literally held the life of his commanding officer in his hands. Finally Tomal gave a reply that was accompanied by a sickening smirk that almost motivated Hastelloy enough to rip the tree he embraced out of the ground and wallop Tomal over the head with it.
“
Unfortunately he speaks the truth,” Tomal said. “Worse yet, there were numerous witnesses to his noble gesture, witnesses who’s support you’ll need when we get back to Rome.”
“Now that is an inconvenient truth if I ever heard one,” Caesar said as he dismounted his stallion and drew his sword. Casually he walked over to Hastelloy. Slowly
, he raised the sword over his head and with one quick motion struck the chains between Hastelloy’s hands.
Hastelloy fell backwards onto his back and looked up to find Caesar standing over him with sword in hand.
The general turned the blade to point straight down and with both hands drove it into the ground right next to Hastelloy’s chest. Then he extended a hand and helped Hastelloy to his feet.
“I believe
we were enemies this day for the wrong reasons, Senator,” Caesar said as he still held on to Hastelloy’s hand. “I am no tyrant and I seek no throne for myself. I only want to rid the Republic of those who ignore our laws.”
“General, you found me shackled to a tree, put there by Pompey’s men by his orders,” Hastelloy said as he released the handshake to rub the cuts around his wrist for extra effect. “I assure you my allegiance no longer lies with him. If you are sincere about fighting to preserve the Republic rather than
attempting to conquer it, you will have no greater friend in the senate than me.”
Caesar extended his hand one more time
, and Hastelloy met the handshake. “Senator, it appears we both will prove our words through action in the coming days.”
Hastelloy relaxed the muscles in his hand and began to withdraw from the handshake when Caesar suddenly strengthened his
grip and pulled Hastelloy in closer. “I can forgive my enemies, but I make it a policy to never forget their names. Remember that.”
With that, Caesar abruptly
let go of Hastelloy’s hand, returned to his mount and rode off to congratulate his soldiers on a hard fought victory. Once he was under way, Hastelloy shot Tomal a stern look that threatened to incinerate his insubordinate engineer.
Tomal
simply let out an amused laugh as he prompted the horse forward with a tap of his heels against the animal’s rib cage. “Oh how the tables have turned,” Tomal said. “Come Octavian, let’s join your uncle in the celebration.”
Tomal took off at a full
gallop while the young man remained. Octavian walked his horse over to Hastelloy and extended a hand to offer a ride back to camp. Hastelloy looked up at the stranger in confusion. He thoroughly expected to walk the three miles back to Caesar’s camp. Eventually, he grabbed the young man’s hand and pulled himself up to sit behind the saddle on the horse’s rump.
The next words the stranger spoke made
Hastelloy smile ear to ear knowing he was among friends.
“
It’s good to see you again Captain Hastelloy. Difficult work lies ahead for us,” Valnor said as he guided his horse into a brisk trot toward camp.
Tonwen looked up
from his work as he sat cross-legged on the ground. Isa was approaching with yet another basket full of seed pods gathered from nearby honey locust trees. The durable plants were about the only consistent feature among the otherwise completely barren wilderness landscape.
A soft groan escaped Tonwen’s throat. He spent the last six weeks living with a dozen other men and the baptizing preacher in the wilderness. Some days were good, like when he accompanied the preacher to the river banks and helped manage the throngs of pilgrims so they could be baptized in an orderly manner. Others were decidedly bad, like today where he was on food preparation duty.
“If you told me, I would never have believed this barren landscape could provide such an abundance of food for a group as large as ours,” Isa said as he hoisted the heavy basket down from his shoulder onto the ground with a dusty thud. “I think I’ve gathered enough for everyone now, would you like some help separating them?”
Tonwen glanced at the twelve overflowing baskets around him and then looked back at Isa to state the obvious, “That would be nice.”
Isa flopped onto the ground, eagerly pulled a full basket closer and dove right in. No task was too menial to dampen the man’s spirit. Since being baptized in the river, Isa was nothing short of transformed. It was as if he’d been waiting his whole life to get away from civilization, throw his livelihood into his God’s hands and trust him to provide. At the moment his God gave him the opportunity to work his fingers to the bone peeling honey locust seed pods, and he delighted in the labor.
Isa picked up the foot long, leathery pod, split the tip with
his fingernail and then tore it down the middle. Nestled inside the bright green pulp of the fruit were a couple dozen dark brown seeds which he flicked out one by one into a basket half full of freshly plucked seeds. Once picked clean, Isa playfully tossed the pulpy remnants at Tonwen’s head who in turn used a crude knife to peel the pulp away from the leathery skin. Tonwen placed the edible pulp in a pile and then flung the empty skin back toward its originator’s head, only missing due to Isa’s lightning quick lean to the side.
The seeds would get set out in the sun to dry and later be crushed into flour to make bread while the pulp served as the
main dish for evening meals. The two men sat and worked through the baskets, long after the sun went down. Finally they heard joyous laughter approaching, accompanied by the bright orange glow of a lit torch. The bombastic voice of the preacher rose above the rest as his small group of devout followers approached the camp.
“Every day is a good day,” the wiry man bellowed. “Rain or shine, hot or cold doesn’t matter to me. So long as there are people wishing to repent at the river’s edge it is a good day to be alive.”
“People still come?” Isa asked the group of five who walked up to warm themselves by the fire he was starting.
“You should have seen it,” a wide eyed little man named Adam replied. “He was a true force of nature plunging one person after the other into the river water. There was a sea of people stretching to the horizon and he spent ten straight hours without rest or food. The only thing that stopped him was his inability to see after the sun went down.”
“Who needs rest or food when the salvation of so many is at stake,” the preacher added.
Isa looked upon his leader with admiration.
“You are on a mission. There is no doubting that fact, and your message will change the world. It’ll no longer be us and them. It will be the entire world because everyone is capable of being loved by God, not just the chosen few.”
Tonwen hated to dampen the jovial mood, but this was his chance to voice his concerns and finally get the preacher’s movement going. “Your time spent at the river banks will certainly change a few lives, all of us are proof of that, but the world? No. Not a chance, at least not operating as we have.”
“Pilgrims are coming from far and wide,” Isa protested as every other man in the commune gathered around the preacher to show their undying support in the pending confrontation.
“How many will remember the message tomorrow, next month, a year from now?” Tonwen countered. “Going the other direction, what if too many
come? King Herod is a coward who thinks everyone is out to get him, but he’s not stupid. Once he deems you a disturber and a threat to his power, he will take decisive action. He will strike you down as the lone shepherd and cause the sheep to scatter back to their disorganized lives.”
“If you doubt my message, why do you stay
?” the preacher asked in a soft and deeply wounded voice.
“Your message of inclusion speaks to me with a profound voice,” Tonwen assured him. “It is the effectiveness of your communication that I doubt. Your teachings need to evolve from a wild man hollering in the wilderness into a bona fide movement. It must be profound and miraculous to get the world’s attention. It must be consistent so that the message may live on even if Herod resorts to violence against you.”
“Profound, miraculous, consistent,” the preacher’s gravelly voice repeated. “I am many things, but certainly none of those.”
“We all are here with you now to help you be those things so that your message may reach any who possess the ability
to comprehend it.”
The preacher spread his arms out wide and slowly turned a circle as he laughed hysterically, “Look at me. I am not a leader of men. I am a voice crying out from the wilderness, calling men to task for their deeds and making straight the way of the Lord. Those who want to listen will; those who don’t won’t. ”
“We need to make them listen,” Tonwen objected with a forceful step forward to accentuate his point. “There is no more blatant example of a gluttonous, sinful life than that of King Herod. He murdered his own son. He divorced his legitimate wife to steal away and marry the wife of his brother. He does not have a moral leg to stand on so do not hide in the wilderness from this man. Confront him in the public’s eye to gain the attention of every Hebrew and Roman in the region, and eventually the world.”
The preacher looked like he suffered a blow to the stomach from Tonwen’s words. Dazed and confused his eyes darted from side to side, searching for the right words. He eventually found them. “
I will retire for the night to pray on what you’ve said.”
Without another word, the preacher walked past Tonwen with a vacant gaze and continued beyond the reach of the fire’s light and into the unforgiving darkness beyond. No one spoke
to Tonwen the rest of the night. They only leveled the occasional angry scowl in his direction.
Tonwen evaluated his words as he lay down for the night. He was content no major errors or unintended insults were made, so he fell asleep with the serenity that the next day things would be better and finally begin moving down the right path.
The preacher’s words and Tonwen’s miracles would finally get the lasting attention he needed to accomplish his mission in these lands.
The next morning, with the sun still struggling to rise completely above the horizon, Isa woke Tonwen with a panicked shake of the shoulders.
“Where is he?” Isa asked. “He’s gone.”
“Gone to the river bank alone?” Tonwen asked
“No,” the one named Adam barked. “His bedroll is gone and his footsteps head towards King Herod’s stronghold in Machaerus.”
Tonwen hung his head in grave disappointment. His words the night before were not so well chosen after all. The impulsive fool was going after King Herod alone. The preacher didn’t comprehend that he needed a mass of followers to back his words. Without that support, King Herod could lock the preacher away before anyone could hear a sound from his lips. The pending disaster had an air of inevitability about it Tonwen thought as he hastily assembled the other men to head for Machaerus to perform an intervention if it wasn
’t already too late.