Book 1: Chapter 12 | Ianus

The city is dead silent.

Barbara looks around and hears only the soft wind rushing through the buildings. Off in the far distance, the moaning of the Blemmyae can be heard. She can hear her own footsteps crunch, as soft as she makes them, tread along the path of dirt and small stones. She looks around at the Old City, the workshop, and it's completely deserted, as if it had been ransacked.

"Is this what it looked like after a war?"

She thinks to herself,

Is this what Carthage looked like?

She thinks about the stories they told her about Rome's past, as she walks to Olivia’s pottery workshop. Unused pots and shattered pieces, no longer organized properly, simply left.

The potter's wheel with a broken pot sitting on top.

She thought back to the city before the announcement, and realized that it was grander still than even then. There was the new road. There were more pens for animals, farms, and gardens.

Or at least the plots of them.

All of the plants had been cut down.

The workshops all had new stalls and new huts built to manage the jobs needed for the creation of the great ship, rope-making huts with new looms, smitheries with their furnaces. She saw the mud towers that were kilns for charcoal, all silent.

Could we have made a life here?

She sees herself walking down the street, and pulls up her hood.

No not a hood, not a cloak.

A stola.

Bright orange befitting my station.

I cover my ornate jewelry that my husband purchased for me and let the sleeves show the gold ornaments. Just a little.

Proper Roman Modesty.

She's looking around, and she sees her friends and kinsmen, all working dutifully at their stations in clean mudhuts.

I must go see the Baker.

She sees Julia, she sees Olivia.

She sees Regulus and Titus and Arachne, all busy, all working and chatting.

Her boots crunch against the dirt path.

My sandals touch the stone streets towards the forum.

The huts are gone.

There are now stone buildings where the workshops are.

She holds her right hand out as she walks.

Why are you tugging at me, my son?

Barbara Silvia, noble matron of the Plini gens turns to her boy that shares her father’s smile.

“Are we going to Arachne’s to play?” she hears him ask?

No, you are going to your grandfather for Mathematics first.

“But I want to play with the bees.” She hears him whine.

I must have the fish delivered at their house before three o'clock tonight, otherwise it won’t be ready in time. Come along, now!

With a soft smile on her face, she continues to tug at her hand where her little boy is not holding it, and walks forward.

Her mind is filling in the details of this distant future, the jobs that she has, the rivalries and friendships that she forms and maintains.

Her relationship with Alexander, her imagining of Pliny as a grandfather.

“Silvie”

And then she sees it.

She sees the tree.

The fantasy vanishes, and she is ripped out into its presence.

The tree states at her.

Untouched since it was first cut.

One part of the logs and branches lay next to it, perfectly upright.

Next to the upright, displaced branches, now dead, is the stump.

The Blemmyae are growling.

"Fly! Fly!"

says a woman's voice.

"Get out!"

says the man.

The tree stump is cut to the side, the rings are visible.

The creatures outside have turned to growling. She can start to hear them knocking on the gate door.

Memories begin to resurface, and she's no longer wearing her Roman armor. The tree grows. Its massive. She can see it outside the window. Barely. She’s just a little girl.

She's wearing her cloak with her children's clothes, her jumpsuit hastily put on top, her mother with sleepless bloodshot eyes. She is being rough it. She cant be gentle right now.

“It doesn't fit her!”

The suit droops over the child’s arms and legs. The little girl is silent.

She sees her father, cheeks worn thin from hunger, cut off his own sleeve from his white coat and rip it into straps.

“We make it fit!”

The building is shaking, the treetops outside seem to move.

She's standing outside of what looks like, resembles a tree house, slightly above ground, but not enough.

She could feel the Blemmyae pushing down on the poles that kept the house upright.

The house was swerving back and forth now.

What had been a guard post to protect the few children that remained, was falling.

The tree head still had leaves. It had sprouted new roots.

Mother grabs a few flare guns, puts them in the girl’s pocket.

“Only for emergencies! You are the oldest. Look after the others!”

The confused child nods.

Her father grabs the magic staff. It's always protecting them. He looks at it less sure.

"How much is left?"

"One shot, maybe three at best."

The Ground shakes again.

"Fly!

Fly!

Get out of here!"

Green shoots are growing out of the stump.

She sees small Small leaves. Those will soon become branches.

The Tree will remain!

Some of her kin have taken this as a sign of hope. The sprouts were seen as something new will come.

Not me.

Barbara clenched her fists. Her knuckles white as she stared at the tree.

The Belmmye are smart enough to destroy buildings. They think there is food inside.

“Get her out of here, Sylvie”

The mother yanks her hand and pushes her up the window, the building swivels again.

They are usually right.

“There is a flaw in your plan Alexander”’

The city will become ruins, just like the camp.

But they will leave the tree. It is just a tree to them.

The rage in Barbara burned white hot.

She runs back to the village. She goes into one of the shops, she finds a jar of alcohol that had been left behind. She grabs it. She runs back towards the tree.

The Blemmyes are knocking on the wood, on the walls.

They can smell the meat by the gate.She breaks the bottle over the stump.

She pours the alcohol over the tree.

Useless monsters destroy everything.

"Get her out of here! Sylvie, Now."

They cant even do that right!

“Sylvia”

A blast from the magic staff. The House starts to creak.

Then I will!

She grabs some leaves and grass around and throws it at the tree, then taking the steel from her blade and a flint, she starts a fire and sets the tree ablaze.

"Get her out of here!!"

A kiss, a tear. A push.

She stares at the fire, as the tree is consumed by the flame.

She expects the burning to warm her.

It does not.

She hears the signal whistle blows thrice. And she returns to the present.

She runs to the gate. She reaches the top of the gate and sees that there are several Blemmyes all lining up, all knocking at the door and the walls.

Come in!

She opens the gate and lowers the meat and raises the meat.

The Blemmyes start pouring through.

She watches as the Blemmyes pile through the city, huts are destroyed. Walls smashed and buildings ransacked.

They steer away from the burning tree. It burns in silence

They all start shambling and moaning as they smell the meat and head towards the ship.

The few that did not go to the ship are going through their village, destroying the pots, searching for animals and meat, taking what remains of the few animals and minor creatures that have been left behind.

It's all gone now. Enjoy the leftovers!

She sees some of them reach the ship, and they begin to push it.

It seems that the plan is working.

The ship is moving, and with them out of the way.

She returns again to the platform. She leaves the wall and walks over to the burning tree. Walks past it, walks to the platform that has been set up for her. She looks at the tree one last time.

She looks at the boat as it's being pushed away.

She says goodbye to her parents as she once did.

"Namárië Amil, Atto."

She pulls the lever and braces onto the platform. She looks at the camp and the tree one last time.

“Valete.”

The Contraption fires and she is shot into the sky.