The Eternal Time of History - Part I E-Book

Simone Malacrida

• Herausgeber: Simone Malacrida
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Servio Italico's choice to break with his family's traditions will give rise to a lineage that, for five generations, will walk alongside the history of the first century.
From the defeat of Teutoburg to the conquest of Britain, from the death of Octavian Augustus to the fire of Rome, from the eruption of Vesuvius to the first campaign of Dacia, men and women will find themselves in the presence of the founding idea of the Roman Empire, shaken by novelties and evolutions in an attempt to defend the values of an ancestral and now past virtue.
To complete the vision of the century, two collateral stories intertwine in the plot: trade and cultivation in the Chinese Empire following the rise and fall of the Eastern Han dynasty and the growing tensions in a family of zealots between Judea and Syria.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

SIMONE MALACRIDA

“ The Eternal Time of History - Part I”

ANALYTICAL INDEX

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

SIMONE MALACRIDA

“ The Eternal Time of History - Part I”

Simone Malacrida (1977)

Engineer and writer, has worked on research, finance, energy policy and industrial plants.

ANALYTICAL INDEX

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The book contains very specific historical references to facts, events and people. These events and characters actually happened and existed.

On the other hand, the main characters are the product of the author's pure imagination and do not correspond to real individuals, just as their actions did not actually happen. It goes without saying that, for these characters, any reference to people or things is purely coincidental.

Servio Italico's choice to break with his family's traditions will give rise to a lineage that, for five generations, will walk alongside the history of the first century.

From the defeat of Teutoburg to the conquest of Britain, from the death of Octavian Augustus to the fire of Rome, from the eruption of Vesuvius to the first campaign of Dacia, men and women will find themselves in the presence of the founding idea of ​​the Roman Empire, shaken by novelties and evolutions in an attempt to defend the values ​​of an ancestral and now past virtue.

To complete the vision of the century, two collateral stories intertwine in the plot: trade and cultivation in the Chinese Empire following the rise and fall of the Eastern Han dynasty and the growing tensions in a family of zealots between Judea and Syria.

“It takes a lifetime to learn how to live, and what may seem even stranger, it takes a lifetime to learn how to die.”

Lucius Annaeus Seneca

“De brevitate vitae”

​I

1-3

With the sun at his back, a human figure left the back road and headed home.

He was determined and so he had decided.

Unwavering and without any remorse for the double choice made.

It was something that turned his entire family and his entire existence upside down.

“May you not regret it, Hannibal,” concluded his father Gordian, disconsolately.

The son, who had been sixteen for just a month, was unperturbed and forcefully reiterated his position.

“My name is now Servius Italicus.”

His first distinguishing feature as an adult was to change his name.

No longer something that recalled his hatred towards Rome, but rather a way to testify his attachment to that city which dominated unchallenged and for which everyone, in the city of Italica, served.

He hadn't chosen the name by chance.

Double, as was more common in Roman tradition, however lacking the intermediate name, relating to the gens.

Servius' idea was that his lineage would, sooner or later, also have to take on the characteristics of a gens, through appropriate marriages.

To do this, there was only one method for them.

Becoming Roman citizens.

It was not easy, since citizenship was not granted in the provinces, unless one belonged to a lineage that had citizenship within itself.

Emperor Caesar Augustus had been categorical about respecting Roman traditions and, in Italica, there were many families who could boast of citizenship, almost all descendants of those colonists who, at the time of Scipio Africanus, had moved to the region of Baetica, after the conquests following the Punic Wars.

This was not the case for Servius' family.

His father Gordian and his mother Euterpe were not of Latin descent.

They worked the land on behalf of others and their traditions had generated much hostility towards the Romans in the cities.

Gordian had underlined this with the names of his children.

He had given Hannibal's older brother the name Alcibiades, and his sister, who was two years older than Hannibal, something even more significant.

Dido.

The reference to Carthage was evident.

Gordian was descended from former slaves carried away from that land.

His physical characteristics testified to this.

Black eyes, olive skin, powerful physique.

Euterpe also had no Roman features, although her physique was more slender.

The children had inherited some of their parents' characteristics.

Thus Alcibiades was slender like his mother, Hannibal powerful like his father, Dido anti-Roman and loyal to family traditions.

Conversely, Hannibal had always had an idea in his head.

Becoming a Roman in all respects.

Not just a subject of the Empire, but someone with full rights.

To do this and to access such an honor, there was only one possible path.

Enlist.

And that was what Servius Italicus had done.

And now he stood straight in front of a shocked and unsupportive family.

“The good lies in the land, not in chasing dreams of glory.”

His sister Dido had been the first to speak.

Even though she was a woman, she didn't feel second to anyone at all.

She had gotten married the previous year and her task was clear.

To expand the estate of his father, no longer a slave or freedman, but a free man, even without being a Roman citizen.

“And then we’ll have to figure it out at the end of your service.”

The sibylline sentence denoted a factual truth.

To obtain Roman citizenship, twenty years of service were required.

Moreover, not as an actual legionary, but as part of the auxiliaries.

Emperor Augustus did not trust the provincials too much.

After all, they were the children or descendants of peoples who were outside the Empire, perhaps hindering it in every way.

The climate had become unbearable and Alcibiades, as the elder brother, tried to lighten the situation.

“And where were you enlisted?”

Hannibal looked him over.

Although older than him, Alcibiades could never have tolerated anything like that.

Even as an auxiliary, considerable physical ability was required.

Not all were caught, and not all would endure the necessary training.

“I will be trained in Sagunto for two months.

Then I will be merged into the Seventeenth Legion.”

To his family, all this meant little, so he had to be more explicit.

“Germany, beyond the limes.”

Gordian shuddered.

Compared to Italy, it was cold in Germany.

The environment was completely different, with forests and woods.

No cultivated fields, no civilization.

Rain and wind, if not snow, something impossible to imagine for an inhabitant of Italica.

Despite this, the man did not want to show sympathy or concern for his son.

It had been his choice and he would suffer the consequences.

“I will get good pay.”

Servius smiled and imagined the future.

Carry the glory of Rome everywhere and march from the next day.

Leaving his hometown, he felt spurred on to great events.

If there was one thing he should have learned right away, it was how to march.

One of the great strengths of the Empire was the mobility of the legions.

Each of them could be deployed very quickly for two distinct reasons.

The capillarity and great care of the roads, on the one hand.

The physical prowess and regularity of the soldiers, on the other.

Servius felt his chest swell as he joined others and the small group became almost a river in flood.

Sagunto had now been reached.

Servius wasted no time and went to report to the training center.

There they would test his qualities as an auxiliary.

Marching, physical exercise, very rudimentary use of some weapons.

Most importantly, how would it be useful to the legion?

The auxiliaries had very specific tasks and were classified according to rigid schemes.

“Come on boy, show us what you’re capable of.”

Servius was the youngest in the entire camp and, within the memory of many, one of the most precocious auxiliaries ever seen.

Endowed with the physical strength of an adult, he also distinguished himself in endurance and skill.

"Generic."

A decade had been enough for the instructors to get an idea.

At first he took it badly.

He wanted to be considered for a specific task, but was immediately reprimanded by the others.

“How can you not understand that the role of general is an honor?

This means that you have been deemed capable of doing everything and will be used in various departments.

Not like me who will always have to find wood for the palisades of military camps.”

Servius had not been accustomed to reasoning in this way.

In truth, his education was somewhat lacking, as he could barely read and write.

Apart from that, he didn't know much about the world.

He had never been anywhere before.

He did not know languages or culture, even though his mother was of Greek origin.

For this reason too he wanted to join a legion.

Already in Sagunto he had made the acquaintance of various individuals, coming from different provinces.

“Are you ready to march?

We will see."

Their destination would have been Gaul, at least initially.

After which, they would be attached to the legion.

Servius was eager to create that inseparable union that had made Rome's army so powerful.

Even moving on foot, he could notice the enormous development in terms of territories and structures.

There were bridges and roads, aqueducts and baths, buildings and temples everywhere.

Names changed, customs and traditions changed, but Rome left its mark.

“And this is nothing compared to the greatness of the Empire!”

He had been warned several times by those who were more well-traveled than him and by those who were more experienced.

Practically everyone, given Servius' youth.

“He's so young he doesn't know what it means to lie with a woman!”

He was also shamelessly mocked, especially at the end of the day, when the wine flowed abundantly, almost always diluted with water.

Servius was not used to it, but he would soon adapt.

Once past the mountains, the southern part of Gaul opened up.

At first, he didn't seem to have changed much, but then he had to change his mind.

The inhabitants were completely different.

There were those who wore long hair, with multi-colored locks.

Servius knew that it was customary to dye one's hair and, for this reason, he did not react when he saw hair the color of gold or blood.

Strange languages and different foods.

“Gaul.

What a land of almost barbarians.”

Phrases like this were often said.

As one approached the limes, the natural border of the Empire, the general conditions changed.

The legion's legate welcomed them when they were two days' journey from the military contingent.

He inspected the new auxiliaries, those sent to replace the others.

Nobody said it, but the losses were huge, especially during military campaigns.

Even behind a triumph, there were always dead and wounded.

The big difference was how much damage was done to the enemy.

In general, a lot.

Even during the period of peace that Augustus had brought to the Empire, there was certainly no shortage of battles, especially against the barbarians.

From this point of view, the Germans were considered among the most hostile and difficult opponents.

Servius had learned much about them, but only by hearsay.

Nothing would have adequately prepared him for his first armed clash.

On the other hand, he had never witnessed a battle nor encountered any barbarians.

The Seventeenth Legion was about to cross the limes, pushing further north.

“Do you see that river?

It's the border.

After it there is still no Roman law.”

Servius watched as the sinuous water serpent made its way through the wild forests.

He imagined everything beyond that, but was quickly calmed down.

“The Germans are not as stupid as they seem.

We'll have to flush them out.

They stay in their villages and sometimes join forces.”

The auxiliaries did not have much left in terms of booty, since the majority went to the legionaries.

So Servius had decided not to spend all that was given to him, but to leave part of his pay to the command of the legion.

There was perfect accounting and no one ever missed a single penny.

The efficiency and superiority of Roman society was also measured in this.

Food was also plentiful and full of various types of cereals, as well as libations that some specialized auxiliaries had to hunt and cook.

The marching army was a kind of moving city in which everything was subjected to Rome's expansion.

The legionaries themselves felt part of a world that would come after them.

Clearing the lands to allow settlers and farmers to arrive.

From here, the birth of cities.

This had also happened in Italica, but centuries ago.

Servius could not understand why his family was so against it.

“Are you thinking about home?”

A legionnaire approached him.

He had no symbol of power and command, so he was a simple soldier.

One of those who, however, were chosen in Servius' vision.

If only he could have served alongside that man.

"No",

He had been sincere.

Italica was far away in everything.

In the landscapes and the climate, but above all in the problems.

There were only agricultural and economic issues there.

Harvests, sales, profits.

Family life to go along with it.

Not here.

Beneath Servius' feet had been ground hundreds of miles that had propelled him beyond the civilization of Rome.

“You are young, but already formed.

You will make your way.

Don't be a hero, okay?

Here we win through the union of all.

This is our secret.

A legion moves as a single body and our job is to slaughter with minimal effort.”

Servius smiled.

He had understood that good humor was not lacking and that it had to be nurtured.

Stories of various kinds, especially about traditions and women.

Then there were the commanders.

In special tents, but still inside the camp.

They read or wrote dispatches and, at the right moment, encouraged the troops.

Many had past battles to show for it, with wounds that had healed.

Almost all of them had always served against the Germans and knew their languages and the different tribes.

“The Cherusci are the most dangerous.

We will go and look for them.”

Servius remained silent as they crossed the river and entered hostile territory.

The first night outside the Empire didn't seem all that different from usual.

Always camps, always a damp feeling, always the sounds of the forest.

Servius fell asleep, after having worked for a whole day on the construction of the fortification.

He had been told that, from the following day, he would mount guard and, later, take care of the maintenance of the gladii for any legionaries who requested it.

He was willing to do anything for Rome and had understood the first true purpose of the army.

Obey orders.

“We’re getting close...” someone told him after having him handle the gladius.

Six days had already passed since they had crossed the border and the more experienced ones knew what awaited them.

“You’re good, show me how you would do it...”

The legionary of the first cohort, one of the most experienced, watched Servius slash with the gladius.

Although he had no experience, the young man knew what he was doing.

“Where are you from, general auxiliary?”

Servius was keen to make a good impression.

“Italica, province of Baetica.”

He had never been to Baetica.

“Is it really as hot as they say?”

Servius smiled.

"Moreover."

What he had suffered most was the cold German nights.

“You will see here in the winter, even if we retreat to Gaul.

You need at least two tunics.

In fact, they say that the Emperor carries four and is in Rome.”

Servius smiled to himself.

He was hungry for adventure and glory.

He didn't have to wait long.

The next day, they intercepted a first Cherusci exploratory expedition.

The legion arranged itself in an orderly fashion and the few cavalry in support cut off the lines of communication.

The barbarians had no choice but to surrender or fight.

Given the unequal numerical difference, they surrendered almost without a fight.

In the German ranks, three dead and four wounded were counted, while the other thirty became prisoners.

They were the first Germans that Servius saw up close.

Unkempt beards, windswept hair, dressed in furs and carrying gigantic swords.

Rome would have easily won against them, he thought to himself.

*******

“Never forget any paragraph of the Sacred Texts.”

Matthew looked at his father Gabriel, who wore a well-groomed beard and dressed in the manner of the Zealots in Jerusalem.

He was always the first to go to the Temple on ritual occasions and to precede every other figure in that world who recognized in the history of Israel the salvation of the chosen people.

His thundering and powerful voice, his extraordinary height that made him stand out even above the majority of Roman centurions, symbol of the oppression of the people of Moses and Abraham, gave Gabriel the respect he had deserved in his life.

All of this was to be passed down directly to his son Matteo, who was the only one to survive after childhood, a period marked by bereavements and the disappearance of two other children.

Rebecca, Matteo's mother, had come to terms with it without asking anything.

Her husband Gabriele knew what was best for everyone, especially his family.

Matthew had already been presented at the Temple and was receiving a very respectable education, without mixing with those whom the Zealots still considered different, albeit respectable, Jews such as the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the Levites.

His task was to learn and, above all, not to question the cornerstones of tradition.

No mixing with the pagans, starting with the Samaritans or the Greeks, but above all with the Romans.

They had arrived in force, with the use of weapons, but they had no fear of God.

They worshipped multiple Gods, as in the worst traditions of the world.

As had the Egyptians and the Babylonians, the Moabites and many other peoples, all defeated by God, by that powerful supreme entity who had chosen Israel as the unique people among all humans.

The Romans were to be avoided at all costs.

Their currency, whether aso sestertius or denarius, was not to be used.

Their language was not to be spoken, something too harsh and unmusical for a zealot.

You weren't supposed to dress like them.

Their food was not to be eaten or drunk.

All this, according to Gabriele, while waiting for the invader to be expelled.

“It will happen soon.

God never allowed Israel to be subjugated for too long.

We will have a leader, a new David or Solomon, who will bring back the glory of the past.”

Matteo did not argue and tried to imitate his father, even though he understood that his voice would never be so powerful and thunderous.

He had been told that, as time went by, his tone would become more serious, just as his beard would thicken and become more dense.

He didn't believe in it much, especially in his voice.

Perhaps he would never have lived up to his father.

For this reason, he was doubly committed to studying and applying the rules.

Gabriele was very happy about it.

The chest of that son, his only true legacy in this world, swelled.

Like all zealots, he lived off what the Sanhedrin made available to him and his leading role was certainly something to be proud of.

As with Rebecca, the family needed a dowry from a suitable marriage.

This is what Gabriel had done and this was what had been established for Matthew, who already knew his future bride.

The families had reached an agreement five years earlier, when Matteo, at the age of twelve, was officially presented to the community.

His wife would have been Sarah, three years younger than him.

They were waiting for the following year to celebrate the wedding and, in the meantime, the families had reached a maximum agreement.

The expenses of the wedding banquet were paid by the bride's family, the marital home was paid by Gabriele, who would also have received a good dowry of kids, lambs and clothes, given that the family of his future in-laws were in the business of trade.

They were considered lower on the social ladder that the Zealots had in mind.

For this reason, Matthew would bring respectability to Sarah's family, while Sarah would bring enough money to live comfortably for decades, raising a family.

On the positive side, Sarah's family, although trading with pagans and even with the Romans, was very devout.

Everyone knew Sarah's father's ideas and everything could be said except that he was in favor of the Romans.

He paid more than was due to the Sanhedrin and the Temple and offered libations to those who asked for help in the name of God.

No Samaritan or pagan had ever violated their home, a distinctive sign of someone who kept business and affections separate.

“It's an uncontaminated family,” Gabriele had declared.

Matteo had seen Sarah only three times, and always in the presence of their respective families.

Decorum and tradition had to be respected, there was no doubt about that.

From Gabriele's house one could glimpse the Temple and Matteo tried to catch a glimpse of it almost always, while he studied by looking out of the window in the enclosure wall.

It was a Jewish home with no regard for other people's traditions.

No contamination in this sense.

Purity first.

Rebecca was its main guardian, remaining confined within that artificial boundary for much of the time.

That's how it went and no one had ever asked themselves why, or rather no one had ever asked themselves the question.

It was natural.

It's always been happening.

And so it would go on for eternity.

It was God who wanted it.

These conclusions were reached at the end of every speech, whatever its nature.

Political, social or economic.

God's will was above all else.

Matthew had never questioned it and, indeed, this would have constituted a violation of the Law.

"Let's go."

Gabriel led his son out of the house, through the swarm of people that crowded Jerusalem.

It was the day before the Sabbath, so everyone was busy concluding all kinds of business, since from the following dawn, there was an obligation to cease all activity.

Everyone except pagans.

The Romans never stopped, even though they had well-defined traditions.

Whoever could, after the so-called sixth hour, devoted themselves to other things and not to business.

And they had games, pagan symbols of ostentation of human worship.

“They will be punished,” Gabriele concluded.

The Jews, however, recognizing their clothes and their bearing, moved away.

No one should have accidentally bumped into a zealot.

There was a great risk, even a summons to the synagogue or before the Sanhedrin if the offended person felt offended.

It was a series of rigid and codified rules, incomprehensible to anyone who had not dedicated his entire life to the study of the Law.

Not human courts, not the use of weapons, not even the will of Kings or Emperors, but what was written in the Law was the salvation of man.

The precepts were nearly a thousand and a good zealot not only knew them all, but applied them and tried to set an example and impart lessons to others.

Gabriele had never had any qualms about reprimanding, even publicly, those who did not respect these dictates.

He had participated in the stoning of adulteresses and the ousting of the worst kind of all, Rome's tax collectors, the publicans.

Thieves and dishonest people were dealing in coins bearing the effigy of a man, which was prohibited by law.

They enriched themselves at the expense of the people, who demanded justice.

“From this spark, the revolt will start.”

So Gabriele had reprimanded his son.

He may not have seen the end of Roman oppression, but Matthew did.

Or Matthew's sons.

It was only necessary to wait, because God had never abandoned Israel.

Walking through the narrow streets of Jerusalem, they passed a short distance from Sarah's house.

Matteo couldn't help but think of her.

What was he doing?

Did she also feel the thrill of the impending wedding?

For their future life together?

In her head it was very clear what a woman was supposed to do.

Be a good wife, raise children, take care of the house, do not cause scandal.

A wife of a Zealot had to be like Rebecca, an exact prototype of what the Law prescribed.

Far from the Roman women who sat in the halls of power and made fun of the people.

According to Matthew, they should have been stoned, but his father had once rebuked him.

“They are pagans, not Jews.

Stoning is not the right punishment.

The solution is in the Scriptures, as always.”

After much study, Matteo had understood what his father was referring to.

Like all enemies of Israel, no distinction was made between women and men.

When God wanted, he would give them a leader who, by revolting, would drive out the Romans and, with them, their shameless and unhealthy women.

Encouraged by these thoughts, Matteo began to walk, puffing out his chest.

He imagined himself in a few decades, with his son at his side and himself in Gabriele's place.

A Jerusalem liberated from the pagans and still the beating heart of the Kingdom of God.

A dream?

No, a reason to fight and apply yourself.

If everyone had done as he did, the arrival of this leader would not have been long in coming.

Everyone was waiting for it.

The liberator.

And Matthew would have been at his side, with the strength of the ancestors and the prophets.

Behind them was not a subjugated and defeated people, but a lineage of God-fearing men.

The Romans would have experienced this first-hand.

The sun was about to set behind a hill outside the walls of Jerusalem.

Matteo knew that name well, having called it since he was little and being used to frequenting that place.

It was Golgotha.

*******

Servius was about to end his second winter spent near the limes.

Military campaigns were suspended due to the cold, since not even the barbarians dared to challenge the climate of their lands.

It was the worst period for Servius, the one in which he felt the most homesick for Italica and his family.

When one was concentrating on the march or on preparing the camp or on the battle, there was no time to think, while during the wintering period time seemed to never pass.

It was true that people rested, slept more, and trained, as well as healing their wounds, but despite this, there was nothing else they could do.

For the first time, he thought that twenty years was a long time to spend like this.

“You are one of the few who prefers battle to idleness...”, this is how his tent mate, also a generic auxiliary, had addressed him.

The winter camp was better equipped, better fortified and defended and, above all, it was located within the Empire.

There were roads and cities located nearby.

Not infrequently, leaves were granted in order to lift the spirits of the legion.

This is how Servius had come to know women, meaning his first love adventures, strictly regulated by the location of professional prostitutes.

Rome truly thought of everything, especially when it came to treating its troops well.

All things considered, Servius had already put aside a nice nest egg.

His goal was very simple and he had defined it during that winter.

Complete twenty years of service, acquire Roman citizenship, find a good wife, have children, and with that money buy a landed property.

If until the previous year he had had nothing else in his head but the adventure of the battle, the second forced stop brought him face to face with reality.

What to do with your life?

The call of the earth was something that had grown in him and he had given himself an answer of that kind.

Where it didn't matter.

He didn't feel he needed to be close to his family and he knew that there were fertile and prosperous areas of Italy.

He would have time to think about it again, he was sure of it.

“You’ve improved.”

It was a clear observation that would project him into the elite unit of the auxiliaries.

Not only were the legions structured into cohorts and centuries, but the auxiliaries in service also had to follow a similar organization.

Thus, Servius would have been transferred to another unit of auxiliaries serving in the third cohort.

In a couple more years he would have joined the first cohort, the one with the most experience.

“Don't rush, the important thing is to stay alive.

If we die before twenty years of service, we will see nothing, neither citizenship nor back pay.”

His companion was a Thracian.

He too came from the southern provinces and had been in service for five years, compared to Servius' two.

He would not have made any advancement, despite greater experience.

His name was Herodotus and he had not changed his name, unlike Servius.

At least this was what the young man knew, completely unaware that Herodotus came from an anti-Roman family just like Hannibal's and that, in Thrace, he was known as Spartacus, a name that was supposed to recall the rebel gladiator who had put Rome in grave danger.

To be accepted into the legion, he too had broken with his family, his traditions and his land.

Unlike Servius, however, he had kept himself in the background.

He understood how unpredictable battles were.

It took very little to turn the outcome in your favor or against you, meaning not the general strategy, but your particular case.

And that was what Herodotus was interested in.

Bringing the skin home.

Servius understood this and did not argue with him, as he was older and had more seniority in service.

He treated him like an older brother from whom he could learn and take advice, but then make his own decisions, as we always would.

"Direction?"

Bets were placed on everything from the very popular and fashionable game of dice to the decisions of the supreme command.

It was a way to exorcise the fear of the enemy.

“We do much more to them.”

Servius had not fully understood the Roman political approach.

The barbarians were enemies, but only up to a point.

The Germans who had surrendered were treated almost as equals.

“The idea is romanization.

If they accept Rome's way of life, then they will be allies.

Federated, they say.”

Herodotus was more educated and was keen to give Servius another perspective angle, otherwise, he said, the boy would get into trouble.

Carrying out orders without understanding their meaning and reason was not correct.

“You remind me a lot of my mother.

It must be your Greek nature.”

The friend let him say it.

If only he had known that the Greeks of old would have revolted at being associated with a Thracian or a woman who was the daughter of colonists who had left centuries before, Servius would have kept quiet.

But that was his prerogative.

Making mistakes in judgment due to young age.

What was perceived as almost sublime in Servius was his complete physicality.

In strength, he surpassed almost all the legionaries and this was evident in the challenges that took place during the winter season.

Servius was able to lift greater weights, reaching the astonishing figure of three hundred minas, or to resist longer with loads of various types.

In the fight, there were no opponents who could hold out.

Perhaps this is also why he would have been promoted to help the more experienced cohorts.

Everyone wanted him by their side during the battle, in case of need.

He had also resisted the assault of many legionaries who should have taken away his gladius and had been trained in the use of the weapon, a sort of privilege for the auxiliaries.

After paying homage to the Gods and consulting the haruspices, something no commander ever forgot to do, the legion was ready to march.

“It begins.”

The winter rest had also served to integrate some troops.

Now Servius was no longer the last to arrive, although he was still among the youngest.

The initial path was always obligatory.

Towards the limes, beyond the river, general direction north.

Braving the rain and the forest.

The Germans were there, somewhere, even if there was a lack of coherence in the military campaign and in the barbarian defenses.

For now, no pitched battles, just skirmishes.

“A direct order from Rome will be needed.

They will send someone to conquer Germany.”

Many names were rumored, but for now nothing was visible on the horizon except the usual patrols.

Marches and territory scanning.

Villages that bore little resemblance to Roman cities and did not constitute a danger.

“It's the number that scares us.

The Germanic tribes are very numerous.”

Servius had reflected on the difference between the Romans and the others, who were divided into dozens or hundreds of small communities.

By not joining forces, they made the search work meticulous and tiring, but the elimination work easy.

Of all that he had seen in that land, Servius did not understand the women in the least.

On the one hand, disarmingly beautiful.

Physically they were every man's dream.

But on the other hand, these were people who were little above animals.

Without culture, without a minimum of grace.

How did one live like that?

Servius had witnessed some massacres in some villages, in which not even the women had been spared.

If it had been up to him, he would have saved them and brought them to Gaul.

Good slaves to exploit.

“Let's set up camp here.”

It was a place already used in the past, easier to set up.

Romanization was taking place at a forced pace, all that remained was to eliminate pockets of resistance and then send other legions with some imperial institution to support them.

Servius stopped at the edge of the camp, since he was on guard with others.

Safety had to be guaranteed.

“It is said that the forests are populated by strange creatures.

Germanic legends are full of all this.

That's why we stay away from them."

Thus spoke one of the legionaries assigned to the shift together with Servius, who did not believe much in such rumours.

It was a rudimentary way of providing explanations for the unknown.

None of this belonged to him.

“Shut up and let’s think about the first vigil.”

There were specific hourglasses that kept track of time and a curtain inside them.

A shuttle attendant would have given advance notice to whoever would take over Servius' shift.

A slang word for taking turns and then it would be rest.

In rotation, everyone was expected to stand guard as well as serve elsewhere.

The strength of the legion lay in this.

The union of all as if to form a single body.

And behind all this there were a few symbols.

The imperial eagle, the banner and the flag of the legion.

Everyone gathered around them and all this was never to be lost.

“Other legions patrol Germany,” Servius concluded with great comfort.

They were not alone, and sooner or later someone would reunite the army corps into one great expedition.

Who could it have been?

The centurion in charge of the first cohort had long suspected the designated name.

It was Tiberius, the adopted son of Augustus.

“If a personality like that arrives, things will go badly for the Germans. It means we will make a new province out of it...”, he had said after drinking a wineskin at the end of a game of dice.

Were these just empty words or was there some truth in them?

Servius didn't know what to believe and, for now, he was thinking about the day.

It was the best course of action, according to his companion Herodotus.

“How long is the vigil?”

Servius shook his head, returning to the tent.

Of the three, the first was definitely the best.

It delayed sleep but did not break it.

He lay down and paid no attention to the noises coming from outside.

As for comfort, Italica was more comfortable, even staying in the house of poor farmers and not of rich lords.

But there one was subject to the adversities of the harvest.

A couple of bad seasons or a few setbacks in the family and we would have gone back to being servants of others.

Servius, despite his chosen name, did not feel like a servant.

He was from Rome and that's it.

Of a city he had never seen and that would have relegated him to some insula of the Suburra if he had set foot in the capital, but which knew how to sell its brand.

Servius, along with all his fellow auxiliary soldiers, had been fascinated by the idea of Rome.

From its power and its claim to absolute civilization, which knew how to integrate and welcome, but also to be tough with its enemies.

It didn't matter if all this required a blood tribute.

Servius would kill for Rome and be killed, knowing that his path was right.

Had he survived the next battle, the campaign of that year, and the eighteen years of service that still remained to him, he would not have stopped serving Rome.

It would have continued, in another way and in another place.

Having acquired citizenship and passed it on to his children, he would have further exalted that civilization which had granted him all this.

Loyalty to the Emperor, to the Senate and to the Roman people, of which he felt he was a part.

“I will return to Italica as a victor, not of battles but of ideas and actions.

I will show everyone that my choice is the right one.”

Such thoughts crossed his mind as he marched into the unknown and against a hostile and hard-to-defeat enemy.

Many battles lay ahead of you.

What did this transition matter if there would then be new provinces?

In all this, his family and acquaintances in Italica remained in the background, with no possibility of contact.

Twenty years was a long time and, perhaps, he would not find the same world that had seen him leave two years earlier.

​II

6-9

––––––––

Germany had been conquered with the iron of the weapons supplied to the legions.

Servius was aware of this and was pleased about it, even though he had seen with his own eyes what a large-scale battle and military campaign was.

Tiberius had spent two years and, with a firm hand, had led the legions, including the seventeenth to which Servius belonged, into a vast region to the north.

Servius had counted about four hundred miles between the two rivers that constituted the old limes and the new one that would be formed.

He had been assigned to the third cohort and then to the first, with a very rapid career.

In five years he had already become one of the most prominent auxiliaries of the entire legion and the one from whom everyone asked for favors or advice.

Young age was relatively insignificant when one had Servius' qualities.

There was no longer any trace of the boy who had left Italica, while now there was a self-confident man who had already tasted the two great challenges of a soldier.

To kill and watch a friend perish.

Servius would never forget these two crucial moments.

The first one happened almost by accident.

In one of the battles against the Cherusci, a barbarian had thrown himself into the ranks of the legion, being strangely spared by the crossfire of bows, spears and legionaries with gladiuses.

He was aiming straight at Servius, who didn't think twice about drawing the temporary gladius that had been entrusted to him.

The man almost stabbed himself and Servius only had to hold the weapon tightly.

The eyes, the blood, the death rattles.

It was something shocking.

Only afterwards does one get used to it, meaning from the second man you kill in battle onwards.

Eventually, they become numbers.

A job, like any other.

Mowing fields, picking fruit, killing men.

Everything was identical and fell within the tasks chosen by each person.

When a younger boy, also an auxiliary, died in his arms, the pain was even greater.

Servius wanted to go to the German prisoners and kill them all out of revenge.

“Keep calm and keep your anger,” the centurion of the first cohort had stopped him, recognizing the expression of someone with bloodshot eyes and a mind in the grip of the most extreme anger.

At the end of that military campaign, everything seemed to have changed.

Servius knew he was a different person, more mature and more conscientious.

He had understood every little detail of the Roman army, at least the land one, and he had formed an idea of the barbarians.

Now the Germans were to become provincials in all respects.

Once the revolts had been defeated and quelled, it was necessary to begin to normalize them.

Thus, they did not retreat to Gaul to winter, but the legion remained stable in Germanic territory.

In light of this, the actual military part was completed and the first arrivals of civilian personnel were beginning to be seen.

Few settlers, for now.

The Germans did not like anyone taking their land.

Instead, craftsmen and builders were needed.

“There is everything to be done here,” said Herodotus, listing an endless series of works.

“Roads and bridges.

The spa.

Some forums and some temples.

The houses of nobles and merchants.

For example, look at them, what do you think they lack?”

Servius was not endowed with much imagination.

He could not picture the Germans wearing tunics or the women of those tribes dressed in fine clothes and adorned with belts, jewels and trinkets.

As for hair and perfume, let's not even talk about it.

"Precisely.

Everything is missing.”

Herodotus made logic his main characteristic, with which he explored the entire world.

Somehow, what had been his tent mate united the two souls that characterized him.

Reason, of clear Greek origin, and pragmatism, a typical Roman virtue.

Servius spent time with him quite often, at least during the winter rest and night stops.

There were now numerous camps and small fortified villages, with names already Romanized, in defiance of how the Germans previously called those places.

Castra Vetera and Mogontiacum were two clear examples of this, although some Germanic guides, speaking in their own language, traced everything back to previous myths and legends.

Servius had tried to approach some of them.

These were men with an average build larger than that of the Romans.

Had it not been for his olive complexion and typically un-Germanic features, Servius could have been mistaken for one of them.

Indeed, he had even challenged some Germans, now subjugated to Roman will, to contests of endurance and strength, always emerging victorious.

Perhaps for this reason he was considered a valid interlocutor.

He was an auxiliary, therefore not a citizen of Rome.

These things did not go unnoticed by a people who had been forced to learn Roman rules.

He had become close to one in particular, named Ermanno.

Ermanno came from a region further east, near the second river.

He said that beyond it lived barbarian populations.

It was strange to note how, for every people, there was always someone else considered inferior in terms of civilization.

“They are nomads, as we were many generations ago.

And they come from the north.

From an island where they say there is always snow and ice.

And further still, there are no more forests but only prairies where there are knights who do not use saddles.”

Servius didn't know whether to believe it.

He had understood how every popular oral tradition contained a part of truth, but also many superstitions and ancestral fears.

Of one thing he was certain.

Even with Germany subdued, the known world was not over.

Too far from Rome to be subjugated and also not very profitable.

Germany itself, apart from its forests full of wood, would not have been a rich province.

The land was marshy, muddy and swampy, characteristics that were ill-suited to agriculture.

A great deal of reclamation work and the work of generations of settlers were needed before anything concrete and stable could be obtained from it.

The harshness of the winter, then, did not allow the cultivation of different varieties.

All things considered, what was the point of being there, other than defeating Rome's enemies and increasing its glory?

There was no gold, iron, copper, silver or anything else to justify a conquest that had been attempted to stabilize for twenty years.

“Reduce exposure to external attacks...”

The centurion of the first cohort tried to explain the underlying reason to him, but had to draw a rough map of German territory on the ground.

There was the current limes which ran along two large rivers.

The one that divided Gaul from Germany and which, continuing south, ended in Rhaetia and the other river, the one that crossed Illyria and Pannonia and then divided Dacia from Thrace.

Herodotus knew that river and also the bellicosity of the peoples beyond it.

“The Dacians are ferocious, but they have a lot of gold,” he concluded.

By moving the border to Germany's second largest river, the number of miles of border to be controlled would be reduced.

Servius put his hand on his head.

It took great determination and great multi-year logic to conceive such a plan.

The glory and power of Rome were also defended in that way.

He left satisfied and his pride grew when the new governor of the province arrived.

From Rome they had hijacked not a military leader, but someone accustomed to governing.

Publius Quintilius Varus first presented himself to the legions, as they had been Rome's vanguard.

There were three of them located very close to each other and two others scattered throughout the Germanic territories.

Servius had also come into contact with the other legions, noting a general regularity in the constitution of the Roman army, but also some subtle differences.

Each legion was identified by something peculiar and therein lay the autonomy of the commander of each of them.

Varus had been accustomed to Syria, a region certainly richer, with other traditions, but with a part given by traditionalist populations.

In particular, there were Jews there.

Servius was told that the new governor would be able to find a balance between Romanization and respect for Germanic traditions.

“The last thing we want is a riot.”

He agreed.

Marching through Gaul, he had asked himself whether those people had always been at peace with the Romans, but this had not happened.

In the past, the Gauls had fought Rome a lot and, even after being defeated by Caesar, had rebelled twice.

The same was said to happen in Pannonia, Dalmatia and Illyria.

In truth, every Roman conquest was followed by at least one revolt and the causes could be various.

The desire for independence, too many taxes, the loss of language and traditions, religious cults.

Varo was spoken of highly.

He had dealt with the Jews and had prevented them, understanding that he should never have touched their religion.

Rome was very tolerant on this point.

No inhabitant of Germany was forbidden to honor their Gods and profess traditional cults.

Servius had watched with curiosity and was amazed at how no commander had imposed a sacrifice in honor of the Lares or Quirinus or Capitoline Jupiter on the prisoners or those who surrendered.

What mattered to Varo was something different.

Romanizing meant bringing the traditions of Roman law even before the infrastructures.

The Forum, intended as a place where people could meet and discuss freely, but without weapons.

The public officials who were supposed to enforce the law.

And, of course, taxes.

Each province had to finance itself for the works that were being built and Varus would put this in order.

Before the advent of Rome, there was no real taxation in the Germanic tribes.

Herman had reported to Servius that they did not know how to use coins and that everything was done through barter.

The proximity to Rome had been the driving force behind the change.

Thus, the Empire drew close to itself its enemies on the battlefield, but in reality allies at the societal level.

The Germans had already adopted many of the Roman customs and their movement towards the limes was due to the improvement of living conditions,

Ermanno himself had been explicit about this.

“When I was little and my family moved from the village where we were, through the forest, and arrived near the river that separated Germany from Gaul, I was amazed at how different their life was.

They dressed in finer furs, had more food available, trade was more flourishing.”

It went without saying that by attracting large numbers of people and having a better life, the number of inhabitants increased and, among them, there were also those who wanted to free themselves from Rome.

From here, the clashes and the wars.

With Herman's view, Servius had formed the idea that Rome had already won before deploying the legions.

Somehow, Rome's enemies just wanted to be free from the Empire and taxes, but to continue a life that was becoming more and more like that of a province of the same Empire.

The auxiliary withdrew to the camp after Varus' speech.

“Don’t let it impress you, a man is judged by his actions and not by his words.”

Herodotus had remained equidistant and had not participated in the great jubilation of the legions.

“We military praise our commanders for their victories.

We all still have Tiberius' strategy in our eyes and Varus lives by this legacy."

Servius did not understand.

How could one doubt Rome?

Governor Varus had been personally chosen by Emperor Augustus.

There had been ratification by the Senate.

The entire people of Rome stood behind him.

Faced with the questioning face, Herodotus was even more explicit.

“What happens if we lose a battle?”

Servius darkened even more.

Rome did not lose battles.

It hadn't happened for generations and, in any case, even after a stinging defeat it had always bounced back.

Did it not bear the name of Rome's most fearsome enemy, who had won numerous times, even in Italy, only to then capitulate definitively?

And wasn't his hometown born precisely from those Italics who followed the great leader who had defeated Hannibal?

And what were these Germans compared to the Carthaginians?

Tribe of barbarians.

Physically powerful and brave when taken as individuals, but without organization and without culture.

How could they win?

Maybe they would have revolted, but Rome would have responded in the same old way.

An outstretched hand to those who were faithful and accepted the Roman way of life, a gladius drawn and ready for use against the rebels.

Servius let go of such thoughts and concentrated on how much he would eat.

A highly nutritious farro soup.

The food supplies alone were indicative of Roman efficiency and superiority.

How could he lose a healthy army, properly fed, fully manned, trained and drilled, which moved rapidly and with a spirit of unity that multiplied its strength tenfold?

A barbarian horde of immense proportions was needed, and from what Servius had seen, there were not so many warriors in Germany.

As for organization, they couldn't have learned anything in such a short time.

“The Germans lack the head...”, the centurion of the first cohort had concluded.

It was better to focus on something else.

On how to quell any possibility of revolt.

The governor did not wait long to make his decisions.

Taxes to finance construction.

Roman law and speedy judgment, immediate injunctive laws.

For Servius this was what was needed and what was necessary to adopt.

“Why is there no one here today?”

Looking around the small square that had been set up in the centre of the fortified village, he was surprised to see no living soul.

Where had all the Germans gone that swarmed through those areas every day?

Had they disappeared?

Was there any ritual going on?

Herodotus muttered in his friend's ear.

“In protest.

Too many taxes, they are not used to it.”

Servius dismissed the matter as unimportant.

He knew what the provinces imposed.

In Baetica it was no different and the payment of tributes was established at the beginning of September, as in almost every part of the Empire.

A heavy taxation, but one that served the good of all.

Being part of the Empire and enjoying its benefits also entailed a certain amount of duties.

The Germans should have understood this, like everyone else.

No exceptions excluded.

Servius went to look for Herman, but did not find him until evening.

“Where have you been?”

He did not answer him and said something incomprehensible in his own language.

There was no worse sign than someone who did not want to understand the changing times.

“These Germans are stupid and limited, they do not know that Rome is invincible.”

Servius continued on. He was convinced that a revolt, however unlikely, would ultimately condemn the Germans to a massacre.

“It will all be their fault,” he concluded.

*******

Getting up from the ground, Liu felt his back ache.

He was young, having just turned nineteen, but the three hours spent clearing the land had left no escape.

With a slim and small body, he was suited to continuous and prolonged fatigue.

For this reason, he would have been an excellent farmer and many people thought so.

Her parents and her in-laws, who had no qualms about giving their daughter Jia in marriage.

The economic means were limited and everyone complained about possible restrictions, but the couple formed by the two young people had something more than in the past.

They were staunch supporters of the reforms that Emperor Wang Mang had adopted.

Not that they understood much about politics and economics, but the idea of encouraging small property at the expense of large estates was something of a genius.

“We will never be slaves to some powerful person...”, Liu had proudly declared.

And for this vision he would sacrifice everything.

His youth and his desire to know the world.

He had voluntarily locked himself away in a camp, a small plot of land that had become his once the reforms had penetrated deeply into the various provinces.

Even in Anhan, the reference city less than two hours' walk away, orders had been successfully issued.

It was uncultivated land, once used for grazing and now divided into many small lots.

On one of them, Liu and Jia had built a small wooden house, little bigger than a hut and in which there was not much.

Just a bed to sleep on, a couple of wooden planks that served as benches and tables, a few hollows in which to place the few clothes and food.

They lived on little, indeed on almost nothing, compared to what was considered decent.

And there was a lot of work, too much for four hands.

The land was treacherous and required extreme care before any sort of crop could be sown.

“What do you think?”

Liu looked at his wife.

The camp was almost completely set up, only the part furthest from the hut was missing.

After that, they would take care of fertilizing and sowing and wait for the fruits of the earth.

Everything produced had to be sold to earn a living or exchanged on site with those who raised or produced other food.

For the first year, Wang Mang's reform also allocated a subsidy to smallholders.

All this had created discontent among the large landowners, but they could do nothing against the imperial will and an extremely efficient army.

Any revolt would be crushed in blood and everyone was certain of that.

“You’ll see, it will get better...”

They consoled each other.

The work had to lead to something, without a shadow of a doubt.

Otherwise, what was all this for?

To survive first and then to ensure a more dignified lifestyle, for themselves and then for raising their children.

The two spouses spoke little about the future and their children.

These were not subjects within their reach, since the vicissitudes of everyday life stifled any desire for abstraction.

They arrived too tired in the evening and even the amorous effusions were very rare.

There was no point in getting pregnant at that time.

Jia would have worked less and then there would be an additional mouth to feed.

Impossible to afford it in those conditions.

Liu hugged his wife tightly.

Both had been accustomed to great sacrifices and to living on little.

This was how life went among the peasants and their parents had been happy with this experiment which gave vitality to the young.

The previous generation had largely preferred to stay where they were.

At the service of the powerful, who saw enormous danger in the reform.

If all the young people had left to cultivate small plots of land, they would have run out of manpower and, in twenty years, everything would have ended.

There were, among the powerful, two schools of thought.

The first was catastrophic about the future, seeing in it the end of their affluence and the triumph of mediocrity, since the poor were also illiterate and smelly.

The second, on the contrary, was a wait-and-see.

“Let them do it...” was the motto of the latter.

Convinced that the world could not be changed, not even by imperial order, they would make time work.

“How many of these small producers will survive after two years?

How many will sell at the first minor production?

How many will be able to stay afloat during the first hailstorm or flood or drought?

Let's wait.

If things go badly, we will buy back those lands and wipe out the smallholders.

If it goes well, there will be tragedies and famines and this will lead to war.”

The reasoning of this faction was insidious and completely unknown to Liu and Jia, who had been accustomed to thinking in simple, linear ways.

They never imagined that such predictions could be made and it was all going over their heads.

In a much more banal way, they worried about arranging their own plot by comparing themselves with their neighbors, other young people like them or even older families with some children.

Everyone worked independently, but then took inspiration from the others.

The division of the land, the internal paths for walking, the distribution of water and its supply.

Once everything was in place, nature would take care of itself, making the plants bloom and creating fertilizer from the falling leaves or branches that needed pruning.

Each of them had always been farmers and knew what the problems of each crop were.

The parasites, the production, the profits they could have had.

Liu and Jia had decided to divide their plot into three.

Part of it is for their sustenance so that they always have something to eat, part of it is for direct resale by focusing on a monoculture to have a certain amount every year and part of it is for barter-style exchange for the extras.

It was a way to minimize risks and diversify, even if it would not bear fruit immediately.

Liu chewed two leaves of a bitter herb that had the power to make one feel hungry.

It kept the stomach busy and closed.

They were fairly common expedients, quite necessary.

The man turned his gaze to the ground and the final boundary given by a dry stone wall.