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  “The Catholic Church,” Tonwen answered with glowing pride. “It universally guides the moral compass of society. It has the potential to carry unparalleled influence over both the working and ruling classes. Most important of all, the Catholic Church, if managed properly, will have enough wealth to encourage the arts. It can establish libraries to shelter and share the collective knowledge of mankind.”

  Valnor eagerly jumped in with his objection. “As you said earlier, Goron has a knack for hijacking religions to serve his purpose. Are you sure we want to promote a theocratic society that is even more vulnerable to his way of doing things?”

  Hastelloy nodded his head slightly to commend Valnor’s argument. Now the young man was thinking straight again. “It’s certainly a risk, but considering the heavy hand we had in the widespread adoption of that faith, I think we can manage that risk.”

  Valnor’s doubtful glare caused Hastelloy to raise his voice and steel his tone. “I know you gravitate toward a secular solution, but for crying out loud, Gallono and Tonwen were there at the start. Tonwen was declared a saint and posthumously named the first Pope of the Catholic Church. We have this religion under control.”

  “No,” Tonwen interrupted. “We are only caretakers of his church on earth. It flourishes only by God’s divine design and consent.”

  Hastelloy could clearly see the centuries since the death of his friend Jesus had not dampened the flames of Tonwen’s faith. The former atheist and diehard scientist did not just speak the words; he was now a believer through and through.

  “Christianity enjoys some prominence in the regions along the Mediterranean Sea, but not many other locations,” Hastelloy went on. “Various pagan beliefs dominate everywhere else, and we need to change that. I am putting each of you in charge of a particular region. Your key objective is to proselytize as many as possible. Keep an eye out for Goron and his influences, but hunting him now is only a secondary objective.”

  Hastelloy pointed toward Gallono. “I need you to manage the northern regions, particularly the Germanic tribes. Keep in mind, Commander, that’s also where all our evidence points to Goron holding the most influence.”

  Gallono silently nodded in agreement allowing Hastelloy to move on to the next crewman. “Valnor and Tomal, I need the two of you to convert the British Isles. Tonwen, you will own the regions of Northern Italy, Gaul and Spain.”

  “And what about you?” Valnor asked in the way a sibling might complain about chores being handed out unevenly by a parent. “What will you be doing while the four of us toil to spread superstition about the land?”

  Hastelloy watched Tonwen’s hands resting on top of the table turn into fists. Before the deeply religious man could explode in an extremely rare display of anger, Hastelloy spoke first. “The same as I have been for the last few years. I will be in Egypt coordinating communication.”

  Looking around the table Hastelloy could plainly see everyone except Tonwen was very uncomfortable with their assignments. They did not even know where to begin in order to accomplish their missions, and that made Hastelloy very happy. After hundreds of years spent fruitlessly searching for Goron, having the men step out of their comfort zones to confront a new challenge would be a welcome change of pace. Still, they looked completely lost on where to begin.

  “I will not micromanage your efforts,” Hastelloy went on. “You are all completely free to employ any tactics or methods you deem most effective to spread the Christian faith and enhance the influence that the Catholic Church carries over this continent.”

  “What about Alaric and his army?” Tomal asked. “If he’s under Goron’s influence he’s likely traveling with the relic.”

  Hastelloy looked at his engineer with a stern face. He understood the man’s need to prove himself once more to the crew. He had a certain determination to fight Goron at every turn, but he went about it in reckless ways. “No, that would be too obvious to fit Goron’s mode of operation. He avoids our detection by doing the unexpected, not hiding in the most obvious location like with Alaric’s army.”

  “At the very least, we cannot let one of his avatars rule the Roman Empire. Crumbling empire or not, that is entirely too much power to leave in Goron’s hands.”

  Hastelloy let out a heavy sigh and lay his hands flat on the table and addressed Tomal with a very quiet and relaxed voice to convey how certain he was about his assessment of the situation. “Believe me. Alaric will not be able to hold onto Rome. Goron knows this, and he is already working his next scheme and hoping we spend all our time and effort trying to defeat this Alaric character.”

  Watching Tomal bite his lip as his analytical mind went to work behind those dark eyes of his let Hastelloy know the man was not convinced. “You are under no specific orders from me, Tomal. Proselytize the British Isles is all I ask. If you feel those orders take you to Rome to take a swing at Alaric, be my guest. Just make sure and steer clear of the brothel districts while in Rome. The four of us will be far too busy to come save you from another outrageous bill.”

  The joke drew some polite grins around the table, but everyone knew there was also a lot of truth to the words. With the orders given, all five men rose from the table, unhitched their horses and went their separate ways once more.

  Chapter 9: The Mighty Have Fallen

  Even before the northern walls of Rome came into view, Tomal saw dark clouds of smoke billowing skyward. It had been nearly a month since the Visigoths savaged the city and still the fires burned. Word was the barbarian horde moved on to the south, but Tomal still had needs that required attention inside the city.

  It was rumored that the Visigoths as a whole were devout followers of Christianity. This gave hope that the damage and slaughter might not be so severe. As Tomal passed under the northern gates into the city, that hope withered away with each and every stride he took.

  He saw firsthand that the Visigoths went about their business without charity. In the hour of savage license, with passion inflamed and every restraint removed, the precepts of the Gospel held no influence over the behavior of the Gothic Christians.

  The streets were littered with trash and debris jostled about by the foul wind that carried with it the rotting stench of decay. Herds of cats meandered from one trash pile to the next taking what booty they found, not unlike the Visigoths a few weeks before.

  A closer examination of the trash lined streets revealed the cause of the foul odor in the air. Bodies young and old, male and female lay strewn about in every position imaginable. Most victims were citizens wearing togas or other garments of high fashion, but not all. The barbarian fury was clearly focused on the Romans, but even the innocent slaves and plebian classes endured the promiscuous massacre to some extent.

  Tomal spotted a pack of vandals, at least thirty strong, moving from house to house in search of valuables the Visigoths may have left behind. Tomal crossed the street opposite the group and drew his blade as a deterrent in case they decided to take advantage of his lonely stature. They eyed Tomal for a moment, but concluded an empty house presented an easier target than an armed stranger; they let him pass unmolested.

  He walked deeper into the city and passed the Mausoleum of Augustus. Glancing through the doorway as he walked by, Tomal saw dozens of urns holding the ashes of prior Roman Emperors shattered on the floor with the fine black powdered remains sloshed about the white marble floor in rhythm with the wind. Tomal caught the scent of that wind and instantly knew the Visigoths did not simply spread the remains of those great Romans to the four winds, they urinated and defecated on them as well.

  The most shocking scene of all came when Tomal saw the forum. The once proud focal point of the entire Roman Empire with grand buildings, columns, steps and streets built of pure white marble now lay disfigured and charred. Statues shattered, columns toppled, entire buildings collapsed. In that moment he truly understood why Hastelloy abandoned any notion of piecing the Roman Empire back together again. The economically ruined cit
y and empire was beyond any rational hope of repair. It could never be raised again to even a shadow of its former glory.

  Tomal finally moved on to reach his destination, the one section of Rome still open for business. Tomal knew he could count on the brothel district to weather the ordeal. In a way, the sacking of Rome merely extended the debauchery of the whore houses to the rest of the city for a few days. The fact that men still frequented the establishments amid the chaos did not surprise him in the least.

  What did startle even Tomal’s admittedly shaky morals was the sight of a man bartering to sell his wife and three daughters into sexual bondage for no other reason than they ‘allowed’ themselves to be raped by the rampaging barbarians. All four women were of a decent age and attractive enough to serve Tomal’s purpose. His reservations aside, Tomal overheard the prices being discussed for their purchase and could not say no.

  Before a particularly unscrupulous proprietor could deliver a counter offer Tomal jumped in to end the negotiation. “I will buy all four of them for the asked price - one hundred sesterces.”

  “Hand over the coin and I’ll hand over the girls,” the man skeptically replied.

  Without another word Tomal let his rucksack slide off his shoulder to the ground. He dug around for a moment and produced ten small bags of coin. One by one he dropped them into the man’s eager palm and in exchange received the end of a rope binding the four females together.

  “Lots of luck getting your money’s worth out of that mangy bunch,” the outbid proprietor hissed while glowering a murderous start at Tomal. They both knew the arrangement was an absolute steal. His instinct was to stay and gloat, but he had a more urgent calling.

  Tomal led his purchased gaggle of prostitutes toward Rome’s south gate. The girls were so beaten and demoralized that they put up no resistance whatsoever. They simply followed and did as they were told; resigned to their dismal fates.

  Tomal planned on purchasing a cart and horses on the way out of the city, but there was no need. Horses roamed freely among the streets as no one had means to care for them any longer, and wagons by the dozen sat unused alongside the roads just begging to be taken. In no time at all Tomal and the four women were out the southern gate and on their way to catch up with Alaric’s barbarian army.

  The trail was not difficult to follow. A fifty mile wide path of destruction was carved across the landscape heading for the southern tip of Italy where Alaric apparently intended to cross over to Africa and secure a steady supply of grain for his most recent conquest. Rounding up enough ships to transport an army a hundred thousand strong took time. Tomal was confident he could catch them in time.

  On the ride south Tomal invited the mother to join him on the driving bench of the cart to which she dutifully complied. “Fortune has done you and your daughters no favors these last few weeks.”

  The woman said nothing. She just looked straight ahead with a vacant, thousand yard stare.

  “Believe it or not, I am the one ray of light shining through the darkness consuming your existence right now.” A sideways glance from the woman let Tomal know he had a skeptic sitting next to him. “I’m not going to lie to you. You will have to perform lewd acts on men you would sooner drive a knife into, but only for a short while. It will be just long enough to gain access to the right man. Then you will exact revenge. For you, your girls, for me, and for every Roman, you will exact revenge from those barbarians.

  Chapter 10: Payback

  Just as the informant said, Tomal and his wagonload of whores found Alaric’s army camped just outside the southern port city of Cosenza. The bright sun was about to set over the horizon which meant it was prime time for Tomal’s girls to ply their trade.

  The week spent tracking the army down gave Tomal more than enough time to instruct the girls properly. Numerous lifetimes spent procuring the services of prostitutes rendered Tomal an unparalleled expert in the carnal ways to satisfy a man. All four of them, even the thirteen year old, proved to be quick studies; no doubt owing to the new found sense of purpose in their lives. It would not take long for their services to get noticed and recommended to the right set of ears.

  Tomal brought his cart to a full stop at the camp checkpoint and waited for inspection. One soldier examined the undercarriage while another looked over the girls. “Well, what do we have here? Looks like some new flavors.”

  With that statement, the first soldier redirected his attention to the cargo. “Just in time too, but I am afraid we cannot let you pass without sampling the quality first.”

  Tomal just shrugged his shoulders. “Take your pick for a poke, but if you get rough I will cut it off. Do we understand each other?”

  “Perfectly.”

  They each took their turn behind a tree and then allowed Tomal entry into the military camp with his whores aboard. Tomal looked back at the guards and saw bright satisfied smiles plastered across their faces, which gave him confidence his plan would work.

  Three days later, after the girls were in almost constant use by the regular soldiers, Tomal received the invite for his whores to attend the king’s banquet. Word of their talents had grown to almost legendary status among the camp. Naturally, King Alaric was compelled to indulge as well.

  Just after midday Tomal ordered all patrons to be turned away from his tents. Most peacefully turned to other purveyors of the flesh once informed their King owned the four famous prostitutes for the evening. A particularly drunk soldier whose primal calling spoke louder than sound judgment found a blade drawn across his male appendage by one of Tomal’s hired escorts, rending the man a eunuch. Following that bloody encounter there were no more questions or complaints about the brothel being closed for the evening; they simply moved on.

  Now alone with his workers, Tomal invited them into his tent for a meal. One by one the girls paced into the tent wearing simple dresses made of a single piece of fabric tied at the waist that extended no farther down than the middle of their thighs. Their rustled hair and filthy garments gave evidence to their popularity with the men. The only aspect of the four women, particularly the mother, that did not look completely broken in was their eyes. They all knew they served a higher calling and were honored to perform that duty as true Romans.

  Tomal kept his words short and to the point in case King Alaric had any spies nearby checking for plots against him. “Fortune casts a favorable eye upon us. Tonight you will be in the company of royalty rather than barbaric thugs. You have the rest of the day to bathe, groom and clothe yourselves adequately for the noble company you will keep tonight.”

  The four women bowed appreciatively to their owner and left the tent to do as they were told. That evening, an hour after sunset, the four returned for inspection. They stood in a line at arm’s-length from each other as Tomal wove his way in between like a serpent sneaking through tall grass.

  Each of the women stood utterly irresistible to Tomal. The spiced floral scent of their perfume was intoxicating. The exquisite dresses they donned were comprised of two rectangular pieces of cloth partially sewn together on both sides. The sleeveless dresses gathered over their naked shoulders by two circular pins were stunning. The coup de grace came at the waist. A delicate rope gathered the garment just above the hips and accentuated each of their hour glass figures to the fullest. King Alaric would be well pleased.

  “Nearly fit for a king,” Tomal commended. He paced over to a wooden chest he kept at the base of his overstuffed pillow bed. From the trunk he removed four gold necklaces which prominently displayed a pure black gemstone that contrasted beautifully with the pure white wardrobe the women donned. One by one he clasped a necklace around each of their necks. “Now you are ready. Go, perform your Roman duty.”

  In the early hour of the following morning, Tomal awoke to the sound of escorts showing the girls back into their master’s tent. He rose from his bed wearing only a tunic and prowled toward his property. He stopped in front of the youngest, removed her necklace and moved
on to the next without a word. When Tomal reached the mother he moved to recover his necklace, but found the black gemstone missing. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  Tomal turned his back on the line of women and paced over to the chest at the base of his bed and returned the pieces of jewelry to their original container. He closed the lid and spun around to face his girls once more. His eye drifted away from their angelic presence to the two armed men accompanying them. “Show them back to their sleeping tent and do not disturb them for business until after lunchtime. They have earned a break.”

  The next day King Alaric became gravely ill. Two days later he succumbed to his illness which sent his generals and soldiers into a frenzy of activity. As a tribute to their fallen king the army officers chose to bury Alaric’s body where it would never be disturbed. They labored for weeks to divert the Dusento River using a system of dykes and dams. Then, where the river once flowed they toiled to construct a tomb for their king and liberator from Roman tyranny. Once finished they would break the dykes to allow the waters to flow once more on their natural path and over the top of the tomb. The conqueror of Rome would forever be interred in the soil of the great empire he defeated.

  Tomal used the distraction that the elaborate project created to full advantage. He managed to sneak his way into the King’s private chambers. In the corner he found a stone altar standing waist high with an iron box sitting locked on the ground next to the altar.

  He easily picked the lock with a set of fine wires and opened the lid. He had his doubts, but Tomal held out hope that Hastelloy would be wrong. He prayed that Goron’s relic would still be in there. He wanted, no, he needed to be the one to extinguish the manipulative bastard’s life force. It was the only way he could make things right. Alas, the container was empty except for a piece of parchment with a single statement written upon it.