In the late 8th century, two ancient scrolls were found during an excavation for a new cathedral in Rome. One was obviously written in an early form of classical Latin, while the other was written in an ancient variant of the Greek alphabet. It was assumed that the Latin was a translation of the Greek scroll, and the two scrolls were duly copied and those copies filed away in the growing Papal Library while the originals- in horrible condition, rotted to mush.

Just recently, Papal scribes inventorying the library came across the copies and began studying them. They were not, as first assumed, copies of each other. The Latin scroll was easily translated, while the Greek scroll made absolutely no sense. It was obviously in some sort of ancient code.

Leading linguists from all over the world jumped at the chance to study them, and translate them. It was found that the Latin scroll, true enough, was an account of an ancient battle, dictated to a scribe by the general as his personal memoirs. But the second, in that previously unknown code, was the major discovery.

Linguists, archaeologists, and cryptologists from all over the world worked for forty months to render it legible. What they found was a major anthropological and historical breakthrough. While the characters were a form of ancient Greek, the words they formed were not Greek- or anything like Greek. After months of study, linguist Patrick O’Callaghan joined the crew, and immediately noticed why the code was so difficult- for it was no code. It was an early form of Gaelic, his mother tongue, though written in Greek letters. That breakthrough enabled the team to complete the translations. Never had the academic world seen such a fusion of an ancient, unwritten language phonetically rendered by use of characters from a separate, unrelated language. The second scroll was the account of a Gallic warchieftain, the first written text from a Gaul ever found.

Below, for the first time, are the English translations of those two ancient texts.

From the Latin Scroll:

I cannot believe the arrogance of those unwashed savages! They harry our neighbors incessantly, these Gauls, and steal their cattle. Granted the foul-smelling beasts are little more than producers of leather and milk, but by the gods, they were our beasts. Or rather as in this case, the beasts of our neighbors. These filthy savages have absolutely no right to come and steal what is not theirs.

There are rather many of them, though. Uncultured, unwashed, uneducated fools. They must breed like flies in those swamps from which they come. It was bad enough having those Gauls- the Insubre, I believe they call themselves, come into Etruscan territory, but now this new tribe (or so they claim) comes as well. Tis true that we did not mind their first arrival- they provided a wonderful distraction for our northern Etruscan neighbors, a distraction we used to great benefit expanding our own territory.

But now they come further south, to nearby Clusium, and even worse, near our own city. And from their siege of Clusium, they intend to stay. This must be stopped. Thus Quintus Fabius, Quintus Sulpicius, myself, and several others traveled to Clusium to demand they immediately depart these lands and return to whatever marshy bog spawned them.

It was a stroke of fate that the Clusians resisted the invaders, and when they saw that the invaders were many, appealed directly to Rome, and no other. Rome, who is not even their ally. Fortuna surely smiles upon us, for when the Senatus deputized us to go to Clusium and order away the barbarians, all knew what a power this would make Rome. No longer just the top of the heap in Latium, beloved Roma would become mistress of all of middle Italia, maybe one day over even all of southern Italia as well. This is a huge step for our state- those who are not even our allies acknowledge Roman superiority. Maybe one day we shall equal the Greeks in power and prestige.

But these Gauls must first go. They are an arrogant and rude people. We gave them the word of the Senatus and People of Rome, and they laughed. Laughed! They demanded that we, a lawful deputation invited by the Clusians, depart instead, back to our... what did they call it... rat-infested rockpile and leave the business of men to themselves and the Clusians. I have never seen Quintus Fabius so angry then He is a Fabian, of course, and considers his family one of the leading ones in all of Rome, and by that he means of the world. I have never seen a man who was not choking turn such a shade of purple and still live, when he heard the slaves translate the barbarian’s words.

From the Gallic Scroll

I cannot believe the arrogance of those linen-wrapped southern fools! We and those dark little men who dwell among the stone houses here south of the Insubres, had been discussing as men do the price of passage for our tribe to lands further south. The men of Clusium decided they wished instead to contest our passage by force of arms, to which we of course gladly accepted. We drove them from the field of battle and now we have invested their rockpile. We were considering storming their pitiful walls to decide the conflict permanently.

Then, against all reason or sanity or even courtesy, a deputation of haughty little men dressed in curtains from another, nearby, collection of stone hovels comes and tells us to depart- as if they were the Sun and Earth in one. They butt their way into our contest, refuse to join in, yet act as if they are the judges who can award victory to one side or the other.

These haughty little men were amusing at first. They barely reach to our shoulder, yet they comport themselves as if they were given the kingship over the world. They speak of war and of battle, yet dress in linen curtains that can hardly block the strong sun of these parts, much less a well-thrown spear. And their footwear… Ha! They wear boots upon their feet that have more than half the leather cut away- how can they walk in those funny things?

After listening to their speech and threats and other comical diversions, we bade them return to that hovel that gave birth to such comedians and let the real men get on the dealings of men. You should have seen their faces when the slave that spoke their tongue finished. I could have sworn the purple-faced one would burst his heart or have his head explode. Yet as the sun set, they departed.

From the Latin Scroll:

Today those monstrous barbarians learned a valuable lesson.

We returned to Clusium as the sun rose to again meet with the barbarians besieging our neighbor. Again, they insulted us when we told them the decree of Rome to depart the lands of the Clusians. Only this time they paid for their insolence- in blood. Quintus Fabius was confronted by one of the monsters, a giant who was shouting and frothing at the mouth as if rabid. Quintus wasted no time and drew from the sinus of his toga his dagger, and plunged it into the heart of the frothing fool.

Those unwashed savages fled at the sight of blood! One would never imagine that such large and well-muscled barbarians could be so easily cowed, yet Fabius was never one to dawdle when it came time to fight. And they did indeed flee, as if Mercury himself was carrying them away upon his winged sandals. Twas a grand sight watching those bouncing behinds disappear into the distance.

We think that is the last we will see of these Gauls. Fabius showed them Roman steel, and they fled like curs before a whip. When we return to Rome we shall organize a grand feast for Fabius, as a token of our gratitude for so easily and single-handedly driving off the barbarian horde from Clusian territory.

From the Gallic Scroll

Unlias lies dead.

Today those sheet-rapped fools have committed the worst atrocity the gods have ever seen. They came again to discuss their ridiculous demands that we cease our trial of arms with these Clusians with the trial still undecided. They came to parlay, but they violated the sanctity of said parlay. Not only did they bring steel, they actually drew and used it. Utter blasphemy!

It began a little after the sun rose. The haughty little men from yesterday had returned, though they had been told to go away as this business did not concern them. The purple-faced one was there as well, and shouting at us as if we were insolent slaves disobeying our masters. Unlias had enough of the little man’s shouting and ranting, and went up to him. He gave the loud little man a measure of his own voice. Unlias had a powerful, deep voice that could ring bells from watchtowers. But no more. He came before the little Italian and when he drew in a second deep breath to continue the shouting match, the little man drew forth steel and plunged it into his chest- in the middle of a sacred parlay!

I must commend Brennus for his self-control. He was as livid as the rest of us by this foul breach of custom, yet instead of launching himself at these sacrilegious jesters and ripping them to shreds with his bare hands as we all wished to do, he ordered us to fall back. A full thousand paces from the sacred parlay we went- to where we may use violence without offending the gods.

It was very wise of the little men not to follow us. Had they done so, worms would even now be feasting on their innards. But they shall pay for this heinous act. Murdering the brother of our king, while in a sacred parlay witnessed by the gods? I do not think so much gold exists that can pay off that debt.

Brennus came to me last night. I was trying out this new way of writing sounds, trying to decide how best to put what had happened into runes. Brennus sat beside me, brooding, while I dipped the feather into the dark liquid and wrote. Then he says to me, “Cynglas, why do you make such strange marks upon that skin?”

I told him that the Greeks had a way of turning sounds into runes, and that those runes could be read and turned back into sound by anybody literate, at any time. It was a way of preserving knowledge.

Brennus scoffed, reminding me that is why we have the Druids. I knew what his reaction would be, thus did not allow the slight insult accompanying his words get under my skin. I replied to him in an even voice, “Druids die, my brother. Tales are lost. But this, Brennus,” I said, holding up my scroll, “this can last forever. Our tales, our deeds, all can remain alive for the memory of our tribe, even long after we ourselves are no more.”

Brennus grunted at that. He sat there while I continued writing of the negotiations, then he stood abruptly.

“Cynglas,” he said sternly. “Make sure you make the marks telling of Unlias. He was a great Senone, a great man. I would have my brother remembered.”

With that he left for the council.

The council this evening was intense, to say the least. It was decided that tomorrow we shall bury Unlias. Then we shall send a delegation to the rockpile of those haughty little men and demand twenty talents of silver, or five of gold, as were-geld for Unlias. We shall also demand the head of the man who would so blatantly offend the gods by drawing steel at a sacred parlay. And they shall pay it, or suffer our righteous wrath.

No man, be he tall or small, can be so stupid as to risk not only our wrath, but that of the gods, by refusing. They shall pay, and that shall be the end of it.

From the Latin Scroll:

Last night we had a wonderful feast. Roasted waterfowl stuffed with eggs, lamb with a wonderful sweet and sour sauce, and even licker-fish from the Tiber. No expense was spared. All to honor Quintus Fabius, who with a single blow sent a horde of bestial barbarians screaming and fleeing.

The celebrations continued into the day. Not even the arrival of a deputation of those unwashed barbarians could dampen Roman humor when it was up. Verily, they added to the merriment, with their posturing, swaggering gaits, and big words. Every man in Rome knew what weaklings those fools were- running at the sight of a single bloody dagger. How could we take them seriously?

Their demands were ridiculous as well. They want twenty talents of silver, or five in gold, or we risk the anger of their false gods. We offered them the skeletons of the licker fish instead- hurled upon them by laughing plebs. And then they had the nerve to demand that we hand over Quintus Fabius, our celebrant!

Lo, but the laughter reached the heavens at that one! Romans in a happy mood surely have one of the best senses of humor in the world. We responded to their demands by holding an election- right then and there. Quintus Fabius and Quintus Sulpicius were both elected military tribunes with consular powers- the highest positions in our republic. That will teach these ignorant savages their proper place in this world- under our feet!

From the Gallic Scroll

These people have to be the stupidest tribe we have ever encountered. And we Senones have encountered plenty since departing the cold ocean-side lands to the far north.

We sent Cingetorix, our best Speaker of Words, to them to explain our reasonable demands. Blood demanded blood, and sacrilege demanded were-geld. He made it known in that sing-song tongue of theirs that the gods were offended by their actions, and that we were mortally insulted. Our wrath could be bought off for the very reasonable sum of twenty talents of silver, or five of gold, considering the status Unlias had and his family that now needed to be supported. And by sacrificing the violator of the parlay, they could earn back the good graces of the gods they offended.

And what do the fools do? They rain fish bones upon Cingetorix, and give to the sacrilegious fool the highest place in their tribe. They heap insult upon insult, then dress it with disdain and spice it with scorn.

Our elders have tried their best to persuade Brennus to play the game of these dwellers of stone houses, and to raid their lands and take from them by honorable combat what is owed. But he would not listen. His brother Unlias lies dead by Latin treachery, our injuries heaped with scorn, and the Latins laughing at our pain.

So it begins. A war against these haughty little men. This shall be a war in the spirit of the Morrigan goddess of war, not a single battle under the auspices of Nuada. There will be no mercy until these little men give in to our reasonable demands. Cingetorix was sent again to their rockpile to tell them. We will not play their game. They shall play ours. We will have that were-geld, and that heinous violator. If they will not give them freely, we shall come and take them.

Brennus has spoken.

From the Latin Scroll:

Quintus Sulpicius has proven himself a shrewd choice for the tribunate. He had ordered some horsemen to watch over the hairy horde besieging Clusium, in case the barbarians decide they wish to taste more Roman steel.

Today the scouts returned- and with joyous news. The Gauls were seen packing their belongings, and their awful tents, and began moving north. Our horsemen followed them a ways to see if they were actually evacuating. And they were!

Tonight shall be yet another feast, in celebration of our bloodless victory over these barbarians with their large mouths but small balls. And of course our delegation, including myself, shall be among the celebrants.

From the Gallic Scroll

Today we packed up our camp. The men were angry, at first, thinking we were fleeing these little men without even lifting a sword to avenge Unlias. But it was Brennus, the brother of Unlias, who gave the order. And that made all the difference. If a man's own brother decides not to press for the were-geld, then no other man has the right to gainsay him.

We did obtain some were-geld. The men of the stone burg we had been besieging before the haughty little men came decided to pay us. Our carts were loaded with ten talents of silver and three of gold- a princely sum to depart their lands. Brennus showed our men these spoils to allay their skepticism at our departure, then led the journey north.

Rhun came back towards evening. He told Brennus in our council that the horsemen who had been following us all day had turned back. Brennus smiled, and promptly called a council.

His speech was magnificent. He told the clans how he had allowed the stone town to buy us off- which showed us how much they had and how little they were willing to part with. It also allowed them out of that stone-girdled rockpile- free to join with the men who killed Unlias. Brennus faced down the catcalls of our warriors and explained that was his will- that we lure them out of their terrible fortifications and into the open where we can butcher the lot of them.

Many began to smile, and applaud the cunning of Brennus.

Our tribe turned in its tracks. We were not heading to the homelands with our tails between our legs- we were now heading south, to teach irreverent people the errors of offending the gods.

We were going to find this tiny rockpile called Rome and make it our own.


From the Latin Scroll:

The Clusians, though neither allies nor particularly good friends of ours, have proven themselves willing associates. This very morning a delegation of them appeared. They bring word that the Gauls harrying their lands and besieging their city have withdrawn, which we knew from the reports of the scouts sent by Quintus Sulpicius. But their scouts followed after ours had fallen back, and they saw the barbarians turn around. It seems they had enough of Clusian silver, and now want Roman gold.

He also mentioned that the men of Clusium, and other cities in the area, would offer men and arms to Rome for this struggle. Fabius laughed, but Sulpicius was more dour. He thanked the Clusians for their offer, and bade them assemble the allies near the border between Rome and Clusium, near Fidenae. There, in four days time, we shall bring the legions, unite them with the allies, and present such a force of disciplined soldiers that the barbarians will flee a the very sight of us.


From the Gallic Scroll

The haughty little men decided to quit their civilized games and join us in righteous battle, to decide the question by trial of arms. They shall fight. This is good. Brennus has sent word to the clans. All are to bring their best men, and their shiniest weapons. We shall dazzle these fools with our brilliance and manliness, before crushing them into the dirt and taking our righteous vengeance out upon them.


From the Latin Scroll:

It is Quintilius, twelve days before the Kalends of Sextilius. The air is warm this summer day, and the humidity stifling. Our men joined the allied contingents on the banks of the Allia, deploying on the Clusian side as a token of our utter disdain for these unwashed Gauls. Plus it gives our men the protection of the river to our right, so that the barbarian cavalry may not attack on our unshielded side, but Quintus Sulpicius did not bother to mention that to the men during his harangue. We number one hundred and fifty centuries- the largest army Rome (or even Italia, for that matter!) had ever seen.

Quintus Sulpicius is our commander this day. Quintus Fabius elected to lead our magnificent cavalry- eighteen centuries of the Equites, while Quintus Servius Fidenas and myself shall command the infantry.

We were told by Clusian scouts that the Gauls outnumber us by two to one. The Caerian scouts, however, report we outnumber them by the same margin. It matters not. Numbers do not matter. Steel, bronze, and discipline are all that matter, and we Romans and Roman allies have that in spades while the unwashed savages that come have only their ten minutes of courage before they shall succumb to the heat and dryness.

Sulpicius ordered us to deploy the legions on line. I, Publius Cornelius Maluginensis command one of the legions and the Latin allies of Clusium on the left. If they were no allies before, their being here in our ranks makes them allies today. Quintus Servius Fidenas commands the other Roman legion and the allies on the right flank, the position of honor as his family once ruled nearby Fidenae. He has his flank to the river and my legion is formed up on his left.

Our legionaries are brilliant in the summer sun. Their bronze helmets gleam in the sunlight, and their boiled leather cuirasses simply glow. Our spears have been sharpened, our shields polished. Greaves blind me eyes with their brilliance, and even our swords have been sharpened to wicked edges by the fabric. Never has an army been more ready for battle than this one.

Victory shall surely be ours. I shall write more after the battle, if my arm is not too tired from stabbing Gauls.


From the Gallic Scroll

Brennus has admitted to me that these little men from that tiny Latin rockpile do indeed appear to be good warriors. Their armor gleams nearly as bright as our swords, and they look impressively stolid in that long, blocky battle array these southern people so proudly use.

It shall be a joyous day, this day. They number the same as do we, give or take, yet many of our warriors are horseborne. Our foot warriors fight naked above the waist. That is their way, even if they did own or capture armor. War was a man's sport- and men fight steel upon steel, and hand-against-hand. The best of them shall be promoted after the battle to fill the losses among the horseborne, so we know they shall do their best. They look magnificent in this bright sunlight, bronzed men with light hair, and eyes like slits of sky cut out from the heavens above. They are truly magnificent, these fighting men of the Senones, yet our horseborne are grander still.

Senone horseborne have always inspired fear in our foes. Our horses are large and powerful, their riders more powerful still. We wield the spear in the charge, its mass and momentum driving through whatever the foe would hold up to stop our charge. Then we cast away the broken or weighted spears and draw our magnificent swords. Senone warriors on horseback are respected by all- friends and foes alike, except for these haughty fools before us. They respect nobody, but they shall be taught the folly of such an attitude.

We shall be the ones to teach them. We have over a thousand horsemen, each with two kerns who hold spare horses. Should a horse be killed in battle, the kern shall rush forward with a replacement. Should the warrior be killed, his kern shall rush in and assumes his post in battle. In this manner our numbers shall always remain, while those of our foes dwindle until they are no more.

From the Latin Scroll:

Disaster upon the Allia! Rome is undone! Most of our legionaries lie dead upon the bottom of the river, the rest scattered across the fields rotting under the hot sun. A few- very few- managed to escape that cauldron of death

It began well enough. The barbarians drew up in the long line with which we were accustomed. They looked like godlings, muscular and oiled. Their footmen had worked lime and clay into their hair, giving them the appearance of statues with spikes for hair. We, in our armor, laughed at their nakedness, fingering the edges of our spears and swords which we knew could cut through their naked skin like a hot knife through an olive. To my left, I remember Quintus Fabius laughing as he looked over the savages.

A hideous screeching erupted from their ranks as they grew closer. Our slingers darted forward and let loose a volley of stones. Many savages fell, dead or mortally wounded, and again our stout-hearted legionaries laughed at these pitiful fools who dared challenge Roman might.

Then they charged.

Our slingers scurried back between our ranks and we locked shields ready to take the impact of their charge. But the barbarians, evidently having seen a phalanx before, halted just before our spears and hurled javelins and rocks at our armored men. Our shields and armor took the brunt of their missiles, and again we were confident of victory.

But lo, it was not so. Their casting of missiles forced us to keep our formation tight and our heads hunkered down behind our shields. We were blind for those few, awful minutes- and those blasted barbarians knew it!

They used those precious minutes to charge their horsemen against ours. Quintus Fabius, my friend and colleague, was a brave man, but a foolish one. The Gauls swept his force aside and crushed it utterly, then turned against our open flank.

Within seconds of the first horse impacting against the side of our phalanx, we were undone. I ordered the centuries to turn, to face this threat I was just now seeing, yet the barbarians expected that. As our men changed facing, their sword-wielding infantry burst upon our men while they were out of formation.

A slaughter ensued. I tried to rally my men, but there was nothing to be done. No man assaulted by those monstrous warriors stood his ground for long- if he did, he died. I am ashamed to admit that I too ran. I stabbed at a large breast, had my ivory-handled sword knocked from my grip, and fled upon seeing the vicious smile of the bearded man who had so easily disarmed me.

I was not alone. Many of us fled. The Gauls herded us into the river, using horse and infantry together. Those who fell in crossing died where they lay- if no Gaul sliced his head from his body, then he drowned under the weight of his armor.

I was lucky. I kept my feet. And used them. Once across the river, I found what was left of the cavalry of Fabius- twenty-two men and thirty horses. I took one and rode for Rome. Someone had to tell of this disaster!


From the Gallic Scroll
Victory the likes of which the gods have never seen! We crushed those haughty fools utterly, and suffered hardly any losses ourselves!

It was a thing of beauty watching Brennus this day. At first we were awed by the sight of those armored men facing us in the dreaded spear-wall. Their one flank was anchored upon the water, giving our horseborne there no leeway. Their other flank was heavily guarded by horseborne like ours. It appeared an impregnable position.

But that was to us. Brennus, however, smiled and saw the way. He had us form a line as long as that of the spearwall, three ranks deep instead of the six used by the foe. He then took the men left over and placed them in a triple line on the flank away from the river, behind the line facing the spearmen. Our own horseborne he divided in twain, and placed half behind each flank.

He was brilliant, Brennus was. He calmed us by telling us his plan- he was going to engage the fools straight up, and while they were thus occupied, those extra men away from the river will spill around the side of the spearwall. While this was happening, Conn by the river would take his horseborne at the gallop around our warhost and pile onto the fools Brywarch and the right flank horseborne would then be engaging.

We saw at once how that would go, and carried out the plan of Brennus to perfection. Lo, how it worked! The spearwall crumbled, and Conn’s charge came at just the right moment. These Romans shattered like pottery, and not a few perished trying to swim to safety.

We hounded them and their allies all through the night. I am tired now, so I will resume this at another time.

From the Latin Scroll:
Rome was not pleased at my news, to put it mildly. Our largest army to date was so easily trampled and drowned by mere barbarians.

It seems I am the only tribune that made it back- Fabius fell on the field of battle, and Servius most likely drowned in that awful press of men into the Allia. Nothing has been heard about Sulpicius.

When I broke the news to the Senate, they consulted the Sibylline Books immediately. A disaster of this magnitude requires guidance from the gods. As sole surviving commander, it was up to me to make the donation required by the gods in order to interpret the books. This I paid gladly, for what is my fortune worth if Rome shall fall?

The augurs returned. The Senate was called, and ordered the priests to immediately begin moving the contents of the temples to nearby Caere. The godless heathens may slay us, may even take this proud city, but they shall not be allowed to desecrate our gods! Thus says the Sibylline Books- if our gods remain pure and we true to them, eventual victory shall be Roman.

We received word that more of our men survived the battle than thought. Those survivors did not come to Rome as had I and four hundred others, but had fled to Caere, and others to conquered Veii.

Our new cavalry commander, Lucius Aemilius, reported the Gauls a few hours away. I and the other survivors will be aiding the consul Marcus Manlius in fortifying and stocking the Capitoline fortress. As for the rest of Rome… We gave the word to the people in the forum. Those who wish to flee may do so, the rest of us shall defend what is left of Roman honor.

From the Gallic Scroll
It took two days to loot the dead and burn them. Then we marched to this rockpile Rome to make those laughing fools pay for their insults and sacrilege.

We entered a desolate city. The gates were open, and the streets were deserted. A man with quick eyes might catch some movement through shuttered windows, but for all intents and purposes, this rockpile was empty of life. We marched in.

We came to an opening in the myriad stone houses. There was a grand house of sorts, with old men in robes sitting upon backless tools awaiting us.

We are struck speechless. Many of us were wheezing and trembling, trying valiantly to hold in their mirth as they saw the curtains and sheeting in which these old men clothed themselves. Brennus smiled, and Cerdix broke out laughing. The old ones huffed and puffed and yammered in that sing-song tongue of theirs. We responded in kind, and the slaughter began. We killed the old fools, and ran rampant over the city.

From the Latin Scroll:
Rome is conquered, but her Capitol holds out. We are fortifying like madmen, and Marcus Manlus has assigned me the task of measuring, rationing, and guarding our food supplies. There shall not be much time to write, yet.

From the Gallic Scroll
Brennus and I had been discussing how best to remove those cowards hiding behind the ramparts of the citadel above. As I discussed the merits of ladders and ropes, he watched a lizard run along the gutter, then spring up the wall to disappear into a crevasse. He smiled, Brennus did, and turned to me. Tonight, he said, tonight we become the lizard.

I must admit I was dumbfounded. But long after the sun set, I saw his genius. Brennus led the footmen himself to the base of the hill. There, he and ten men put their shield over their shoulders, and six men climbed upon them. Those six rested their shields upon their shoulders, and three more men went up. Those three threw poisoned meat over the walls then we climbed down.

Two hours later we did it again. There were no rock-dwellers upon the walls at this hour, and our scaling team made it to the top. Just as the first man was ready to climb over, those blasted geese started cackling like mad. The infernal chorus roused the sleeping warriors, and the grand plan of Brennus to take the citadel by surprise fell away.

Blasted geese!

From the Latin Scroll:
Last night the barbarians tried to assault the Capitol. They were very clever about it, scaling the cliffs we thought unscalable. Our dogs- blasted creatures!- slept through their escapades, leaving us sound asleep thinking we were safe.

But Juno favored her favorite sons. Her sacred geese began cackling. The noise awoke the consul, who from the pen of the geese saw the Gauls climbing. He roused us from our slumber and we manned the walls, forcing the Gauls to retreat.

We do not know how much longer we can go on. We have heard rumors, shouted from the rooftops below, that Camillus is in Caere, raising an army. We wish him better luck than we had upon the Allia. Winter is upon us, and food is scarce, but we think we can hold out until summer. Hopefully Marcus Furius will be here by then.

Below, the Gauls have moved into the walls of Rome, sullying our proud city with their presence. With any luck and the favor of the gods, they shall grow soft so that a Roman army can destroy them and return Rome to the Romans.

From the Gallic Scroll
Brennus has decided. Unlias lies now buried with honors under the floor of their central square, this wasted rockpile of a town being his mausoleum. As soon as it is warm, though, we shall travel onward. We do not mind. All of the pretty girls are greatly pregnant, and what few who could be called men that are left to this town walk with their heads low as if utterly cowed at the sight of a Senone. There is nothing more for us here. Merchants from the south brought us the word- treasure and plunder await a strong people there, and much land remains unclaimed, or disputed. Perfect for our people!

The old ones of this town had a meeting yesterday. They sent a delegation to Brennus, asking his price to leave their town. Finally, they see reason! It may take months of our presence, and learning our ways, yet in the end they saw that we would not leave until the were-geld for Unlias was paid. But Brennus was tough on them, for refusing to pay the were-geld when he demanded it. He told them the price was no longer twenty talents of silver, or five of gold. He was angry at these people for their pigheadedness and insults to our gods. He told them this, and that he had grown fond of this town and thus did not want to leave. In fact, he said with a smile, we Senones like the climate here so much we are thinking of settling down- here. So the price to get us to move on has to be much higher- like forty talents- of gold! The old men murmured and moaned, but in the end they swore to pay. They will assemble the were-geld and bring it to the open area in the center of town within a week. Our tribe will be well-paid.

Ha, these fools do not yet understand that we have conquered them! Today, in the market, they brought the were-geld for Unlias, and more. Forty talents of gold! Then, as they were weighing the were-geld, some of them accuse Brennus of using weights that were false-that the weights he used were heavier than something they called a standard. As if he knew anything about merchant matters! But Brennus was Brennus, and cast his sword upon the scales. “Now they are correct,” he muttered, fondling his dagger.

The fools got the message and quit their yammering.

From the Latin Scroll:

The surviving Senators decided to pay off the Gauls. Rome is humiliated. There came no proud Roman Army to relieve the city, no force of Roman arms to drive them away. We must resort to foul money to procure our freedom.

To dash salt in our wounded pride, the barbarian kinglet used heavier weights than standard. Thus when our people put forth a talent, it weighed in as less than a talent. Much less. And when our Senators complained about this injustice, the chieftain threw his sword onto the scales and shouted “Woe to the Vanquished!”

He was correct- woe be to Rome, for allowing herself to fall to a barbarian horde. But we remain true to ourselves and our gods, and sleep secure that the prophecy of the Sibylline Books shall soon come to pass and Rome shall be free. We gave them more than enough gold, by Jupiter!

From the Gallic Scroll

We have had enough of this foolish little village and its stupid inhabitants. There is nothing more for us here. They have paid us the were-geld many times over, and the head of the man who so ignorantly struck down Unlias at the parlay lies burned upon the field by the river battle. There is nothing more for us to do in this crazy town. Thus we depart.


From the Latin Scroll:
Rome is free of the barbarians! Two days ago they were camped upon the forum, or lodged in our houses. Then yesterday they were gone. Just like that. The rumors of Camillus and his army in Caere must be true- why else would the savages so suddenly and abruptly retreat?

It does not matter. Rome has survived, and is free, as prophesied. More, we have learned from this. Never again shall this great city fall to a Gallic horde. Ever!


So concludes these two ancient texts.

It was a stroke of fortune that the original finder of his scroll was a Greek slave who knew letters. He saw the word Allia, and sold the scroll to the Cornelii in exchange for manumission. The Cornelii stored it with the diary of their ancestor Publius Cornelius Maluginensis within a crypt in the wine cellar. The crypt was covered in a renovation three hundred years later and forgotten.

His house would later be sacked and rebuilt during the Marius-Sulla Conflict, then burned again when the Vandals come to Rome. Finally, in the 8th century, Rome decided on the location for a church, and in excavating the foundation, came across the crypt and its priceless scrolls.

Cynglas was indeed a far-seeing man, and because of his willingness to learn the skills of writing sounds into letters, this history of his people- and of murdered Unlias- survived the ages.

[This message has been edited by Terikel Grayhair (edited 09-02-2009 @ 03:27 AM).]

The Journal of Titus Fabius Passer.

This is a rare translation of a classical latin text. The original was inscribed on a wax tablet; the wax has long since vanished, but by painstaking care much of the text was discovered from scratches on the wooden boards beneath the wax. So here is our one and only first-hand account of the Battle of Atuatuca; Caesar’s Gallic War, January 52BC.




Note from the translator: Here, much of the document is obscured and difficult to read. It seems to cover three or four separate entries, but the content is all but unreadable. The next legible passage is fifteen days later.



Here ends the document.

[This message has been edited by Edorix (edited 09-03-2009 @ 12:56 PM).]