THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TITUS FLAVIUS AURELIANUS

After his lucky escape, Roman diplomat Titus Flavius Aurelianus traveled west. His imprisonment and near-destruction a few daywalks behind him meant nothing; he had a job to do, and he was going to do it. Actually he had two jobs to do.

The first was the official mission he had been entrusted with by the Julii senate. He was seeking allies in Northern Europe for Aulus Julius, leader of the gens Iulia which Aurelianus served. Also, he was locating the major settlements of the Germans and Britons, so that his paymasters would know where to strike when they launched the invasion. He was also supposed to be negotiating an alliance with the powerful Britons – but this was proving difficult. Although his captors had let him go, he had not been allowed to depart with very much. They had confiscated the signet ring and sealed scrolls which proved he was an imperial agent, so his word that the money would be paid was worth little.

The second job was a more personal quest. His companion, whose quick wits had saved both their lives when they had been taken captive, had asked him for a favor, for which he guaranteed Aurelianus would be well rewarded. He had entrusted him with a bag of scrolls, telling him on no account to open it, but to deliver it to the Druid Doxeri of Samarobriva, and it would be to his advantage. The next moment he had vanished.

Aurelianus had been left with little choice but to make for Samarobriva – on foot, alone. He found shelter each night; the Germans, like the Celts, considered it almost a crime to deny hospitality to a stranger; Aurelianus believed this was because they thought the stranger could be one of the gods in disguise. But Aurelianus was not built for long-distance cross-country walking – and if he was, it had long since been squeezed out of him by years of dehomifying comforts. Togas are not made for long-distance walking either, and although it got in his way and made him sweat, he did not take it off because that way he froze. It was, after all, still only mid-January. Had he had far to go to get to Samarobriva, he probably wouldn’t have made it; but he found himself believing that this Doxeri, whoever he was, would help him, and that incited him to go on. Fortunately, it was only a few days’ walk from where his friend had left him to his destination. It felt like ages, but in fact it was only five days, before he found himself at the gates of Samarobriva Ambianorum.

Being a diplomat, Aurelianus was fluent in a number of languages, among them the Celtic dialect spoken by the western Belgae. This came in handy. Everyone he passed in the streets he asked if they knew the Druid Doxeri, but no one had ever heard of him. He set himself up in the town square at the base of the menhir that stood there, and prepared for a long wait.

The next person who passed by was asked the same question.

“Excuse me sir, do you know where I can find the Druid Doxeri?”

“Erm… Doxeri… Doxeri… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him. If I meet him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, mister…?”

“Flavius Aurelianus, agent of the Julii. No matter, no matter… thank you for your time.”

After the man had passed on, Aurelianus stood on tiptoe to look around. Nowhere in sight was any sort of Druid.

“Tite Flavi Aureliane, num me quaerabas?”

Aurelianus jumped out of his skin in surprise. He could have sworn there was no one beside him; but here at his left shoulder stood a Druid with his hood pulled down, shadowing his face. Not only that, the Druid knew his name and spoke Latin without a trace of an accent, much better than Aurelianus’s own rusty Celtic.

“Are you Doxeri of Samarobriva?”

The Druid nodded once, slowly. “You have something for me?” His voice was low, but now he was speaking in his own language, Aurelianus did detect the trace of an accent he did not recognize. He handed the Druid the scroll-bag. The Druid nodded his thanks, then turned and walked away.

Aurelianus stood where Doxeri had left him, mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief. After all the hardship which he had been through to get here, that was it? Not so much as a word of thanks?

Doxeri seemed to sense he was not being followed. He paused, turned slightly, and beckoned to Aurelianus to follow. Relieved, the diplomat duly did as he was told.

********************

Doxeri led him out of the dun and back into the nearby woods. There he bade Aurelianus wash away the dust of the road in the nearby stream.

“I shall return in a few minutes with what I need. Be quick.”

Aurelianus, left alone in the woods, gawped for a moment. He, a Roman citizen, bathe in a cold stream in the open in a forest in winter like a – like some kind of savage? It was preposterous. Then he remembered the stories about what happened to people who disobeyed the powerful magic-wielding Druids. He decided to do what he was told. He washed quickly, teeth chattering – although it wasn’t a particularly cold day, and a local would barely have noticed it – then toweled himself on his toga. It was so filthy it made no difference. He had just finished redressing when Doxeri returned.

“So; I think I have brought what I need.”

He deposited two armfuls of leaves and herbs on the ground. Then he sat cross-legged nearby amd began arranging them into an odd-shaped pile, muttering strange words under his breath. Aurelianus watched in awe; he knew he was extremely privileged to see a Druid at his art. White sparks darted around his fingertips as he carefully twisted a sprig of magical uchelwydd, that the Romans call mistletoe, into a queer shape from which it somehow did not spring back into its own form. He laid it on top of the now finished pile, then brushed off his hands, before beginning to tug off his white robes.

“Bring me some water cupped in your hands,” he said to Aurelianus. But Aurelianus didn’t move. He was staring at the Druid Doxeri – who was clearly not a Druid at all.

Druid Doxeri was little more than a boy – fourteen or fifteen, Aurelianus reckoned, although he looked older, tall and strong after the manner of his people, who, judging by his shoulder-length blond hair, pale skin and sparse blue-green tattoos on cheekbones and arms, were the Pretani. But he was not dressed like a Pretanis at all. He was dressed very oddly indeed, although to us he would appear quite normal, albeit underdressed for the weather: dark green cotton T-Shirt, blue jeans, black converse. He seemed to be wearing some sort of crucifixion cross on a thong round his neck, set with a blue gem and Celtic-style swirls – an odd choice of pendant, Aurelianus thought with a shudder.

The boy looked at him.

“Are you just gonna stand there gawping?”

The queer accent Aurelianus hadn’t been able to place suited this 21st century western teenager much better than the Druid, although his voice hadn’t changed. He asked tentatively:

“Dr- Druid Doxeri?”

The boy smiled.

“No; it’s an anagram. Druid Doxeri doesn’t exist. I am Edorix, bard and warrior of the Catuvellauni – Britons, as you no doubt know. My girlfriend is a Druidess, which is how I know a little of that too.”

Aurelianus still hadn’t moved.

“Carnyn’s sacred antlers, do I have to do everything myself?”

The strange boy – Edorix – knelt beside the stream, cupped his hands and scooped up some water. Aurelianus marveled that not a single drop escaped between the tiny gaps between his fingers and hands as he carried it back to his strange pile. Then he opened his hands.

When the water touched it, the pile went up in a puff of cold steam. Almost immediately, the wood was filled with a thick mist. Edorix picked up the scroll-bag and turned to Aurelianus.

“If you have recovered sufficiently from seeing a boy in unusual clothing, then listen. We are going to pay a visit to the Otherworld – or at least, what the Celts and Britons call the Otherworld, even though in fact it is only one of many. Stay close to me; if you get lost in the Otherworld, you will never find your way out of the mist.”

********************

Terikel Grayhair was not drunk. I feel the need to specify because, eventually, as always happened at these Award Ceremonies, he would get very drunk indeed – put a Barbarian and an almost limitless supply of wine, ale, metheglin or mead (or in this case all four) together and you can safely stake your life on the outcome. But he was not dunk yet; at least not so intoxicated he couldn’t wonder aloud where the host had got to.

The feasting-hall was packed. At one end stood the host’s carven stone seat – empty. Ranged on either side were the various upholders of the World whence the gathering came: Terikel himself, Andalus the ex-Pharaoh, a queer man bearing the face of a legendary hero (generally known as Jupiter’s Foe, better known to some simply as “the Doctor”), and several others. Down both sides of the great table were ranged the rest of the citizens of that World which they all shared; two Carthaginians, one a priest of Baal and the other a hoplite of the Punic army, were discussing trade with another man, who was constantly surrounded by a number of shieldbearers – hence his nickname, “Shield Wall”. An Italian in a purple toga and a laurel wreath – the great Imperator Romano himself – toasted a hooded man who somehow managed to float upside down who claimed he was the Imperator’s conquering predecessor Caesar. A general with a misspelled Spanish name and an anachronistic military cap was discussing the best buildings to sabotage with an awesome little green warrior who carried a sword fashioned out of green light. Another who only recently gained citizenship, still known only as “World Addict”, was questioning an Eastern religious man who tended to ruhs wihle typign about altering the cosmos, and everywhere people were talking and laughing and slowly getting drunk. The host and the purpose of the gathering had been forgotten; Terikel’s question went both unheard and unanswered.

Then the great doors of the hall opened as one. A gust of cold air blew in, and with it two figures came out of the thick swirling mist: Edorix Lonewolf and Titus Flavius Aurelianus.

“Ahah! Yon be the young warlord!” exclaimed Terikel. “And he hath brought with him a bearer of new from the Julii family of mighty Romeburg. Shut the doors behind thee!”

Edorix didn’t bother; the doors closed themselves magically behind him. “Sorry I’m late,” he muttered. The muttering was intentional, emphasizing that however loudly he had spoken the words, no-one would have heard. Barely anyone had even noticed he had come in. Followed closely by Aurelianus, he made his way towards the top of the hall, squeezing past chairs pushed too far back. As he made his way along the top of the table behind Jupiter’s Foe and the Horseborne Hussar, Aurelianus let out an exclamation of surprise.

“Andalus! Andalus my friend, how in Saturn’s name did you get here?!”

Leaving the two companions to catch up – or rather, leaving Aurelianus to catch up while Andalus filled him in – Edorix made to sit down in the host’s seat, only to find it blocked by Terikel’s drawn sword.

“Oh no thou dostn’t, young shieldbearer of the Rainy Isles!”

“First, you choose your own interesting means of getting the scrolls to me at all: you could have just given them to me but no, you had to send them halfway to another World to get Aurelianus, whom we would have been perfectly well-off without, to come along; next you won’t even let me sit down; next you insult me by picking at my youth? It is a year or more since I discarded my father’s shield in favor of Gwynaddwed my own sword!”

“Answer not back to thy elders and betters. I shall let thee sit down once thou hast changed thy garb to some worthy item. ‘Tis only with great misgiving that I allow thee to host this ceremony at all.”

********************

A short while later, Edorix returned, dressed in woad-dyed bracco, tall dark leather boots, a bear-fur jerkin, a tartan cloak, a little wrist-torq, and Gwynaddwed at his side, much to the approval of the galloglaich-wielding warrior, a guest from another era, in the corner’s, approval. Grudgingly, Terikel let Edorix sit down. A chair was found for Aurelianus at Edorix’s side – his left; Terikel was not modest enough to cede the place of honor – and Edorix tried to gain everyone’s attention.

“Gentlemen… friends… guys, please…. Order!”

It didn’t work. Always eager to step in where others failed to add another achievement to his signature, Terikel intervened.

“ORDER!”

That didn’t work either. It irritated Edorix though. The old bickering between the two skalds flared up yet again.

“Who’s hosting this thing?”

“Why, thou art, forsooth!”

“Then wherefore dost – blast, now you’ve got me doing it too! Then why do you keep interfering?”

Terikel looked a little put out.

“Marry, sirrah, I was merely –“

“Siddown! If you are a man of your word you’ll let me do this my way.”

Attemtping to salvage his dignity, Terikel sat down in his with all the decorum of the consul he was. Edorix turned his attention back to the table, and came up with a solution to control the noise. Drawing his sword, he stepped up onto it.

“CATVBELAN!!!”

The ancient warcry of the Catuvellauni did the trick. A large number of people shut up. Those who didn’t noticed the drop in volume level and soon followed suit. They didn’t stay quiet for long though. Egged on by each other, applause and whoops and wolf-whistles soon rang through the hall. Despite himself, Edorix was pleased.

“Gentlemen – and lady,” he added nervously, spotting another visitor from Gallowglass’s era glaring icicles at him, “we are here for a purpose. The sooner we get that purpose out of the way the sooner we can get back to out feast. So. Weclome, everyone, to the Tenth Semi-Annual Awards Ceremony for Rome Total War Heaven!”

Sheathing his sword, Edorix dropped back down off the table, heaved the back of scrolls onto the table in front of him, reached in and selected one at random.

“The Aristotle Award!” he announced. “Of three nominees, only two received votes – sorry ShieldWall. The result was a tie between Pitt and Terikel Grayhair! Please stand.”

Pitt stood and, somewhat consoled, Terikel did too. Once the cheering died away, Edorix puled out another scroll. This time he took one glance at it and handed it to his right.

“You read it, Old One.”

“The Drusus Award! Last season’s winner was our most honorable friend Lord Awesomated; but this time the Drusus Award goes to none other than our good host himself: Edorix Lonewolf of the Rainy Isles! Well done, good sir!”

Once the cheering had died down again, before Edorix could bring out another scroll, Awesomated had climbed onto the table and was hobbling along it to its head, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

“Just like to thank I would Edorix for a great and exciting race! Most deserving of this Award is he! May the Force be with you!” He extended a gnarled green hand, which Edorix shook.

“You should have won it,” remarked the host quietly.

“Hear yourself you should,” smiled the wrinkled green Jedi Master, before turning and hobbling back to his place.

“For your time, thank you all I do.”

“Thanks, everyone. The next Award is the Favorite Modification Award, and it goes, most deservedly, to Roma Surrectum! The team aren’t with us tonight – never seem to be at all – but give it up for them anyway.

“Next we have the Livius Award: best history article. Once again, the winner definitely deserves this: Know Your Heroes, by Terikel Grayhair!”

Fully consoled by now, Terikel stood and bowed regally.

“My gracious thanks. Luck and fair winds to all!”

Edorix was peering into the sack.

“Carnyn’s antlers, there’s a lot of these. Who else wants a go at reading?”

“I vould be proud to eet, my fellow leeeader of the Sceepeei.”

Edorix hesitantly passed the sack to the heavily Transylvanian-accented speaker, Vampiric Cannibal, and withdrew his hand quickly.

“Fang you verry much.”

Everyone groaned.

“Vell, eet ees you who have voted me forr ze Pharraoh’s Ambassador Award, so vot are you complaining about? Sheezle, guys, fangs a lot. WOOOWEEEEEEE!!!”

CaesarVincens exploited his upside-down floating position to steal the sack from the deranged vampire.

“Huh, he never shares the spotlight. This Award, the Caligula Award also goes to our good friend Vampiric by unanimous vote. Makes you wonder why…”

Vampiric was ecstatic, and had begun gnawing the table while making odd high-pitched noises. Caesar passed the sack to Imperator Romano.

“Next, the Hannibal Barca Award, for best online player. This goes, as always, to the Prince of Macedon… anyone seen him recently?”

A quick search revealed that neither the Prince of Mcedon nor his barbarian alter-ego were present in the hall. The sack was passed on, and came to ShieldWall.

“Everyone, can we have silence for this award. Those who have gone on deserve the respect of those they leave behind. The Cornelia of the Gracchi Award – most missed forumer – goes yet again to the one and only SubRosa Florens, who won by almost unanimous vote despite plenty of other nominees. One minute’s silence while we remember what she brought to our community – and what she took away.”

Sixty-one seconds later, Legion of Hell took the sack.

“This Award is probably one of the most aptly named, and also ironically one of the most coveted. It-“

“Legion,” interrupted Edorix, “I’m sorry to cut you off, but that sounds a little too much like the beginning of an essay. I appreciate you have a lot to say, and I have no doubt it is all perfectly true and valid. But we want to get on with the feast.”

“Drusus Award, eh? Very well. The Militia Hoplite Award for most underrated forumer goes to Bones40.”

Gallowglass received the sack next. He selected a scroll – and began to chuckle.

“The Octavian Award, for best newbie, goes –“

With a crash Edorix dropped his drinking-horn in his haste to put his hands over his ears. He might as well not have bothered. The chorus of applause and laughter said it all. Terikel grinned evilly at him.

“That’ll teach thee, thou young upstart!”

Crusiminator took the sack from Gallowglass.

“The Sulla Award, for most improved forumer, also goes to VampiricCanniba!”

“MMMPHGAAAIIII!!!”

VC was chewing the table elatedly again. To distract people’s attention from this obscene sight, Punic Hoplite took the sack from Crusiminator.

“The Advocate Award – for he who works hardest for the good of our world. This Award is another one for Edorix of the Tin Islands!”

By now, the sack was coming back round. Baalite took it from Punic Hoplite.

“The Victoria Award, that is the Award for the best gameplay article, goes to The Art of the Ambush, by Terikel Grayhair!”

Next in line was AKHoplites.

“Our Tribune of the Plebs is none other than ShieldWall. Well done!”

Passing a few people, the sack came back around again to the top of the table.

“The Gaius Marius Award for so-called “best oldie”,” announced Gaius Colinius, “goes to Terikel Grayhair, despite the fact that he is not so much of an oldie as simply old!”

Ignoring the lesser mortals, the consul stood and bowed. Accepting the sack from Gaius, he took out the last scroll.

“Finally, the Senator Award! Of five nominated worthies, ‘twas Gaius Colinius who received the most votes. Thus I return him the favor of announcing his award.”

The applause took longer to die down that time, because everyone thought it was over. Terikel passed the empty sack back to Edorix, who discarded it, but stood up for attention.

“There were four other Awards that for whatever reason didn’t make it into the sack, because Terikel decided to send it to me in a somewhat unorthodox way. Among them was the Evocatus Award: most likely to be promoted. There were no nominations for this Award, so the one vote which was for me had to be discounted. Thanks anyway, Zavier.

“Then there is the Award for Best Game Thread. And the winner is sitting right beside me!”

Aurelianus looked up in bewilderment.

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you!”

“I’m not a game!”

“Tell us your story from when you were caught by the cannibals.”

“Well, I… okay. I am a Roman diplomat, you know. I was traveling through Germania when I was waylaid by a small tribe. It didn’t take me long to discover that this tribe were cannibals, and they didn’t care at all for Roman citizenship or diplomatic immunity. Their chief, Ragnar, told me I was allowed to make a final statement. If I lied, I would be boiled in water. If I told the truth, I would be fried in oil. If I said nothing, I would be spitted and roasted. If I said something but it wasn’t a statement, I would be smoked over a fire. As the tribesmen looked on, hungry and expectant, I wondered what to do. None of the four options really appealed to me. What could I say?”

“Everyone, do you recognize this tale? I worded it in exactly the same way in my riddle thread. The tale ends with Andalus stepping in in time to give the right answer – just as he did in my thread. And that is the winner of this Award: Riddles in the Dark, probably the most successful thread in the Bardic Circle, with nearly 450 posts and counting! Thank you everyone!

“Then there is the Favorite Faction Award. Again, Aurelianus here is the answer; he serves the winning faction: the House of Julii!

“And finally, there is one last Award: Favorite Unit. Six candidates were nominated: but of the three cavalry units put forward, only one of them received any votes. All the infantry received at least one, and competition was fierce, but the end result was a great victory for Woad Warriors!

“And that, my friends, is all. Forgive me if I have not been as amusing a host as my predecessors, but I didn’t want to have to resort to my English sense of humor.”

Edorix waited for the laughs. None were forthcoming.

Instead, everyone, who thought he had finished, began applauding. Giving up on his speech, Edorix simply raised a hand in acknowledgement.

“The list of winners will be nailed to the back wall for reference! My thanks to all; and good night!”

He sat down. The cheers and applause gradually faded into a buzz; female spirits circulated the hall, refilling horns and goblets and platters. But Edorix wasn’t allowed to enjoy himself just yet. Carefully, painstakingly, he carved out the names of the Awards and their respective winners onto a plaque of pale, varnished wood to be immortalized.

********************

RTWH Xth Semi-Annual Awards



********************

Thanks to Terikel for his attempts at tallying up the votes, in advance for not complaining about the light in which I portrayed him, and for the obvious inspiration I gleaned from his own past Awards Presentations. Also thanks for pointing out the miscount for Favorite Unit.

[This message has been edited by Edorix (edited 01-17-2010 @ 08:05 AM).]