Si Verax Sum
Part I of IV — Bellona
Before I start telling you this story, let me set down a handful of rules to save us both some time, okay, kid? First and foremost, during the entirety of this story, everybody’s generally speaking Latin, but I’m translating it to English for your benefit. I’m telling you the story from my memory, which isn’t exactly what I would call ‘reliable.’
Along with that, if you spot things that feel like anachronisms or things that just don’t fit into the time period I’m talking about, do us both a favor and keep them to your fucking self, okay? If you want to be a stickler about how I remember people were dressed or what the streets at the time were like, I’ll just not tell you the story at all, because I ain’t thrilled about reliving my past exploits for your entertainment, but I guess you do have a right to know at least a little but about the people who came before you. So we’ll take this as a test run, okay? You don’t give me shit about the fine points, and I’ll do you the courtesy of still telling you the overall story.
As our story begins, I was in a leather sack, being transported by the cursus publicus from Luceria to Castrum Novum around the year 25 BC. Don’t bother looking for Castrum Novum on any modern map—it’s nothing but ruins these days, although Luceria’s still around, not that it’s at all relevant to the story I’m about to tell you.
Typically, I like to be handed off in person from one bearer to another, but in the old times, exceptions were made every so often, and my previous bearer, Maximus Benedictus, had dispatched me via courier to his nephew, Decimus Benedictus, who was working beneath the harbor master of Castrum Novum. I’d gotten Max where he needed to be in only a couple of jumps, and keep in mind, Max was only my third bearer, so I was still getting a handle on what I could and couldn’t do. Also Lucius, who’d given me to Max, hadn’t been specific about what he was even being given. So Max had done the best that he could to include a scroll with some basic instructions about what I could and couldn’t do for Decimus.
I wonder now and then how much of my path would’ve changed if I’d have made it to Decimus, who I never got to even meet. It’s not like I can go and look up what happened to him. The only information I get is what’s around my bearer, so if they don’t care, I guess I can’t either.
The cursus publicus was the Roman Empire’s mail system, and while it was uncommon for a mail wagon to be robbed, it wasn’t entirely unheard of either. As long as there have been messages with enclosed valuables, there have been people willing to risk a little to take those valuables for themselves.
So yeah, somewhere along the eastern coast of what’s now considered Italy, I was abducted by a gang of bandits. They didn’t think of it as an abduction, though. They considered it a robbery. To be fair, I was inside of a leather satchel.
I could hear the voices of the bandits, but it wasn’t until several hours after the robbery that I finally got a look at the next person to bear me. As it turned out, his name was Justus, and he was one of a small gang of four men who had taken to highway robbery because they couldn’t get work in their chosen profession, but Justus was the newest of the bunch, and he wasn’t entirely happy with the sort of bloodthirsty attitude of some of the others.
They were divvying up the loot, mostly just tossing packages blindly to one person or another, but I could sense that only one of these four men was truly worthy of my gifts, so when the guy picking up the bags and distributing them lifted the satchel with me in it, I had him toss me to Justus. It’s not a thing I can do much of, but Veritas made it clear she didn’t want me falling into unworthy hands if at all possible, so it felt like it was necessary there, and accordingly I gave a little nudge.
The four men split and went their separate ways, and as much as I was trying to get Justus take me out of the bag, it would be about a third of the day before he finally started going through his ill-gotten gains, and naturally, he didn’t want to start with my bag.
When the bag was finally opened, I got a look at the area around me, and it was a nice highland sort of area, with a wonderful view of the sea, and there weren’t any settlements anywhere close by. I found myself wondering if Justus didn’t have a hideout or anything, but I’d come to learn over the next few weeks that he didn’t actually have a home even, and that his life was something of a fucking mess.
I knew right away I’d got a lot of work ahead of me.
Justus was your typical sort of Roman man in his early 30s, big and strapping, with dark hair and a short beard that was desperately in need of grooming. He had a massive scar on his arm, but didn’t look much like a soldier, and I wasn’t sure that he’d been robbing that long. He had on a tunic or something, and it looked like he’d mostly just wrapped fabric around his head as some sort of makeshift mask, because there was a long spool of it wrapped around part of the saddle.
He’d been going through his bit of loot, but he’d come across the bag I was in. He took me out and the letter that accompanied me, and he started to read. I wondered if he was going to believe all that was in the letter Max sent, but then he began to laugh, shaking his head, and I’m not too proud to admit I got a little bit worried, because if I’m not touching skin, I can’t really communicate.
But, thankfully, he put me on, just for a lark.
And while I don’t always like to reach out and talk to my hosts, I knew for this one, I was going to have to take a much more active hand. I mean, it was only my third time out, so I was still getting a handle on how everything worked, and I hadn’t really come to the conclusion that the quiet approach was the better one yet.
So when he put the bracelet on, I’d been considering being quiet until he started reaching for me to take me off his wrist again. That meant it was time to get active.
“Oi! Hands off!” I thought at him.
“Ye gods!” Justus said. “What the devils is that?”
“Not far off from the gods, but that’s me on your wrist.”
He looked down to stare at, well, me. “Is... are you in there?”
“I’m not in there,” I told him. “I am there. That’s me. So let’s not entertain any more thoughts about taking me off until I tell you that you can, yeah?”
“Are... am I cursed now?”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say about a new friend now, is it? I’m here to make your life easier. I mean, you weren’t the person I was supposed to be going to, but it is what it is and beggars can’t be choosers, so we’ll just have to make the most of it.”
“The letter... it’s true?” Justus asked me. “You’re going to find me a woman? The love of my life? A perfect woman for me?”
“If that’s what you’re into. If you’re into men, I can make that happen as well.”
“No no, women it is.”
“So what would you say has been holding you back so far, Justus?”
He sighed, giving a little shrug. “How about everything? I was in the army for a bit, but found that I didn’t do well with taking orders without question, so I washed out. Moved to the coast, and became a shipwright at Castrum Novum, building boats for a few years until there was an accident and I nearly lost my left arm.”
“Your fault?”
“A little? I mean, yes, but no, not really. Keep your head on a swivel, they always told us, but Augustus didn’t double check his bindings, and it wasn’t my fault that the bough split, and when the timber came my way, it cut me from here,” he said, tapping the top of the scar on his left arm, which was nearly at the shoulder, before dragging his finger down almost down to the wrist. “To here.”
“Gods, that must’ve hurt like hell.”
“Spent nearly two months in hospital, and another half a year beyond that getting the control back in my fingers, but the shipyard didn’t want to assume responsibility for the accident, and they didn’t like the idea of having a shipwright they considered partially lame, so they let me go.”
“What? What the hell do you mean they didn’t want to assume responsibility? It’s not your fault that Augustus didn’t do his part of the fucking job.”
“I mean, I am in agreement with you, magic talking bracelet, but we don’t get to decide these kinds of things, do we?”
“And what got you into thieving?”
“Yes, well, I am not proud of how I have fallen, bracelet... I need something to call you.”
“How about Ashur?”
(Yes, I know I told you my name is currently Harvey, but that name’s a relatively new choice, okay? I’ve had half a dozen names over the millennium, when I’ve chosen to speak at all, something you’re making me already regret doing with you. You want me to stop? No? Okay then. So yes, back then I was being called Ashur, so get fucking used to it.)
“Ashur? It’s a very common name, isn’t it?”
Of course it was. That was why I’d picked it. I wanted something nondescript, in case he accidentally talked out loud to me. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“It is your name, Ashur. If it’s one you like, who am I to judge you for it?”
“Good, Justus. That’s a good start for our relationship. You need to trust me as much as you would your own mother.”
“My mother left me at an orphanage when I was only a few weeks old. They were the ones who named me Justus. Who knows what I was originally meant to be called.”
“Right. Maybe a bit more than you would your own mother, then.”
“So all of what your previous bearer, Maximus, said in his letter? That’s true? I feel a little bad that I took what was intended for his nephew.”
“Except what you don’t know, Justus, is that Decimus is one of the foremen of the shipyards at Castrum Novum, so it’s entirely possible that he was one of the people who decided not to rehire you once you’d recovered from your injuries, so the hell with him. If he’s not looking out for the working man, then he doesn’t deserve my gifts. Let’s focus on getting started with fixing your life for the better. How’s the hunt for a woman going?”
“About as well as the hunt for a home,” he laughed at me. “I have no real job, no actual home of my own, so I have been traveling and that led me into this particular desperate act you’ve caught me in. Not my finest hour, I will admit, but if the gods will not look out for a man, a man must look out for himself. This was my best worst option.”
“Not any longer, my friend. We’ll start course correcting you one step at a time. When was the last time you shared a bed with a woman?”
He exhaled a sharp whistle. “Before the accident, certainly, so three, maybe four years?”
“Far too long,” I told him. “Is there someplace nearby where we could go and find you a woman, just to get the ball rolling?”
“There’s a inn with a tavern attached to it in a town about an hour’s ride to the west which I have been to a number of times, or salty looking little tavern down by the shore about half an hour’s ride to the east. It looks like there might be a small fishing village attached to it, but from this distance, I can’t entirely be certain.”
“How familiar are you with both locations?”
“The inn to the west, more than a little, but I’ve only just noticed this tavern down by the water when I came up here to look through my plunder,” he told me. “I’m in a part of the Empire I’m not too familiar with. I was born and grew up in Castrum Novum north of here, and when I was in the army, we spent most of our time fighting against the Parthian Empire in the far southwest, beyond the edge of the Roman Empire. This is much further southerly down the coast than I’m used to being.”
“And where were you planning on sleeping tonight, Justus?”
“Wherever the gods allow me to bunk up safely.”
“Mmmm. Let me work it out then. Why don’t we head to this unknown place down by the waterline? That way if anything goes wrong, we aren’t worried about anyone you know getting the wrong impression of you.”
“What wrong impression would that be, Ashur?”
“That you’re possessed. You don’t have to talk out loud for me to hear you thinking.”
“Oh,” he thought at me, “I can just think like this and you will know?”
“Yes, m’boy, that’s how this works.”
“Very cool.”
(Yes yes, I absolutely know it is completely inappropriate for an ex-Roman soldier to be saying ‘very cool’ in admiration of something, but I told you this was all being translated and adapted so that it would make more sense to you. One more interruption and I’m going to stop telling you this story. Got it? Good. Now where was I...)
Right. Justus left anything that bore the marks of the cursus publicus up in the hills, and took with him only the shit that he knew was valuable and/or useful, loaded everything up onto his horse and then he, no, we headed east down the hills towards the coastline tavern, which did indeed have a fishing village attached to it, as well as a few Roman roads leading in and out of it, making the town a likely way station for travelers on longer journeys, which would suit us just fine.
These days, there’s so many people around that it’s easy for me to use my gift and for people not to notice, but in the olden times, it was a lot more difficult, and I had to encourage those who bore me to get out and see the world a bit, simply because one of the biggest problems romance seekers have is self-limiting their options.
If, by the age of 25 or so, you haven’t found someone who tickles your fancy in your small town or village, the smart individual would think, ‘well, maybe I should expand a bit, look around in some other places,’ but what inevitably ends up happening, for reasons I still can’t understand with you people, is that most individuals think ‘well, I better start lowering my standards and accepting things I know are only going to piss me off, and learn to live with them.’
So they compromise.
They get married to men and women they’ll come to end up hating, and they spend the rest of their lives thinking how unfair it is that life dealt them this hand, when instead they could’ve just gotten up, walked to the next town over and found the love of their life on the second or third try.
I swear, the depths of stupidity of you fucking humans knows no bottom.
All of this is a long-winded way of saying that it was good that Justus didn’t have any such expectations or defining attachments at this point in his life, because I would’ve had to strip him of those things before I could get started on building something new.
You construct a great house on a shitty foundation, it’s not going to matter how well you built it—the fucker’s gonna collapse in the end, one way or the other.
Sometimes to create, we must destroy.
I’m sure that little fishing village had a name, but that particular detail is lost in my memory, because it really wasn’t important. It had a population of maybe a hundred people, if it was lucky, and it looked like we weren’t the only visitors today, as I could see a procession of three large-sized carts resting along the side of the tavern, which looked like it also doubled as an inn, a brothel or, more likely, both.
The tavern was called ‘The Storm’s Eye.’ I remember that because I thought it was an incredibly fitting name for a bar, and I’ve not seen one with the name since, much to my amazement. We could hear the sound of drunken revelry coming from inside. We had arrived near sundown, so torchlight was providing all our vision, much of the village already having headed to bed for the night, but all of them heavy enough sleepers that the chaos at the tavern wouldn’t wake them. Several of them, however, had opted not to go to bed at their usual time tonight, and were instead partaking of the show being put on at the tavern.
When we walked inside, I clocked right away what the carts outside were for—this was a performing troupe that had just happened to find itself near the tavern, and they were trading a show for supplies and a hot meal.
You have to understand, performers have always had a rather capricious life, and while, from time to time, there have been those lucky enough to stay in one place or play to the same audience, most of them are always struggling to make sure they have enough coin to keep their bellies from being completely empty. So while it’s true, there were theaters with actors who never left their towns, places where patrons would come from miles away to see them, it was far more common for performers to be vagabonds, roaming storytellers and musicians who would travel from village to village, give show to a handful of people then pack it all up and wander away to do it somewhere else within a few days’ time.
In short, it was a perfect start for what I needed for Justus.
The structure of the tavern itself was nothing special, a reliable stone building with three stories, the top two of which were lodger rooms for either travelers, whores or both. As we were riding up to it, I could sense how hungry Justus was, and knew we needed to get him some food, although it would wait until morning, after his other hunger was sated first.
The sound of lute music was coming from inside of the tavern, along with a truly lovely woman’s voice, although it was difficult to make out the words over the sounds of people cheering and banging their mugs atop the wooden tables in encouragement.
Justus hitched up his horse outside of the tavern, then headed inside, keeping most of his things with him in the satchel he had slung over one shoulder, not feeling comfortable to leave them in the saddlebags on his horse.
Inside the tavern was blisteringly hot, and the minute we set foot inside of it, I almost wondered if I’d made the wrong choice, and if there were too many people there for me to safely work my skills, but one quick glance told me that with the average level of inebriation inside of the tavern, anything at all strange or unusual would simply be written off as ‘the drink talking.’
There were about twenty fishermen from the village proper who had decided to come and see the show, and a wicker basket up front bore a sign that said ‘for the performers,’ but, y’know, in Latin and shit. It looked like they’d been doing rather well for themselves, and the fact that there was a good show on had seemed to convince some other travelers who might have been planning on just stopping for supper and then riding on until late in the evening to instead take their time and to spend a night at the inn, although no doubt some of the women in the service of the tavern were helping to sell that just a little bit more also.
Whatever doubts I’d had about the ‘The Storm’s Eye’ also being a brothel in addition to being a tavern immediately melted away, as there were a number of rather good looking women sitting on the laps of men whom I don’t think had ever been described as good-looking.
Now, before you get up on your high horse about it, let me stress that this was the way it was back then. It turned out the women in ‘The Storm’s Eye’ were freewomen, but they were also former slaves, and as such, finding a way to make a living was rather difficult, so using their bodies to earn coin was far from the worst path they could choose. Many brothels back then simply employed slaves instead, and the women at those had much less freedom about which patrons they would and wouldn’t take on. Here, at least the women could turn away the truly inebriated and violent.
I’d taken Maximus to a couple of brothels in Rome, in an effort to help discern a bit more about what he was looking for, so this wasn’t the first brothel I’d been in. But the women of ‘The Storm’s Eye’ didn’t have the sort of haunted, defeated look that Max and I had seen in our first brothel visit, where the women had simply given up on life, and were simply passing their time and trying to survive. No, they were much more like the women of the second brothel I’d taken Max to, ‘Venus’s Palm,’ where the women seemed to be enjoying plying their trade, as if there was sport in matching a customer’s expectations up with the right woman, so prostitute and john both had a decent time, and the money earned wasn’t too difficultly obtained. I have an admiration for those who work that trade and do it both freely and well.
The problem with arriving late, however, meant that all the ladies of the evening seemed to already have selected their clients for the time being, although some of the men would clearly not last long, and the girls might be willing to come back out in search of a second client for the evening. Justus didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who wanted to be sloppy seconds, but it’s also not on me to judge or kink shame, so I simply decided to bide my time and wait patiently as we moved further into the tavern, heading over to a table with a few empty seats, near the back, as everything close to the performers was crammed in within an inch of collapse.
As it turned out, Justus and I were scanning the audience for two entirely different things, neither of us wrong in our search.
“There’s a couple of Roman soldiers over near the front,” Justus thought at me. “Do you think they’re searching for the bandits who hit the mail wagon earlier today?”
“That was hours’ ride away, Justus, and it just happened. Yes, I’m sure it’s the talk of whatever town the mailman went to, but it’ll be some time before anyone’s decided to do anything about it, and even then, you were all wearing coverings to disguise yourselves. That is the least of your concerns right now. Let’s talk about who you want to fuck.”
“Straight and to the point, then,” Justus told me. “Any rules about who I can’t suggest?”
“Not rules so much as guidelines. Try not to lust after married women, and if you’re going to be looking at slaves, think about the consequences that come with such actions. I’m not saying that you can’t—I’m just saying think about it before we go down that path.”
“And you’re saying you can get anybody to fuck me? We could head straight into downtown Rome, march right up to the temple of Vesta, and any one of the virgins I fancied there would throw themselves at me?”
“They would, and then the rest of them would either stone her, you, or both of you if you were so blatant about it. If were actually subtle about it instead, we could try and figure out what to do about it with the woman after she told you why it wouldn’t work with you, but I’d still probably have warned you about it before you tried, because the level of difficulty on that sort of thing is rather high.”
“Maybe I should just pick one of the whores, to shake the rust off.”
“Pick whoever you’re most attracted to, Justus. We’ll figure it out from there.”
He looked over the various girls who were tending to the customers—some were serving girls and some were actual prostitutes, but as the band struck up once more, his eyes turned towards the stage and I immediately knew we had our first candidate.
She didn’t look like anyone else in the room, and I could understand how much attention she probably drew wherever she went because of it. I suspect she and the rest of the troupe had come down from the north, as many of the musicians were fairhaired, and blonde hair was mostly uncommon among the Romans at that point.
Her hair was the color of fire, or maybe that of polished copper, and it set her apart from anyone that Justus had ever seen before, the locks of it hanging down to the top of her bosom, heavily curled into ringlets, which almost made it seem like a curtain of flame enveloped her head. I put her age at perhaps her early 20s at first glance, although I turned out to be off by a few years.
Her name was Bellona, and the song she was singing was a lovely yarn about an adventuring soldier who found himself a prisoner of an evil magician, unable to return home to his beloved until a goddess, not-so-coincidentally also named Bellona, answered his prayer and gave him the strength to break free of his prison and return to his beloved.
The woman had the voice of a goddess herself, high and yet somehow also seductive and sultry, like a warm sunrise enveloping you in comfort and joy. She also had quite the figure, tits on display but not aggressively so, her flesh soft and pale, like milk fresh from the goat.
I suspected that the strapping giant man next to her was her brother, because it looked as though a couple of the patrons had tried to get a bit too close and handy. There were at least a couple of surly looking men with bruises near the front, although they had decided to nurse their wounds with ladies of the evening who were more to their tastes.
“Ye gods,” Justus thought at me. “What a magnificent looking woman. And such a voice.”
I can’t say I blamed him. She was easily the hottest babe in the room, and she gave off such a warm, welcoming attitude, easily approachable. I imagine that was part of the reason they were such a successful touring group. “Well, then go on over and say hello.”
“Is that how this works?”
“Why don’t you see for yourself?”
He made his way across the room, with one lady of the evening approaching him as he attempted to cross, but I was pleased to see he politely dismissed her without being unnecessarily gruff or rude about it.
Part of the thing about the first few pairings I do for any new bearer is that I’m trying to learn what you all think you want as much as what you actually need. There’s a very subtle science to my work, a method to the madness if you will, and the thing I learned from my very first bearer is that to get you connected with your true love, I’ve got to teach you all a little bit about how people do and don’t work together.
Love seems incredibly simple on its surface, but it’s actually a rather complicated process that requires establishing a baseline on what the bearer is like as a person, and what they’re going to be like over the course of the rest of their life. Once I have that, I can start comparing that against each person that my bearer wants to take for a spin.
That means generally for the first couple, I’m sort of winging it, although I have gotten lucky a few times over the centuries. As Justus approached Bellona, I gave her a nudge and made her see him as the most ravishing, handsome man she’d ever seen in her life, and he could see her breath catch a little as she caught sight of him on his approach. She bit her lip in nervous anticipation, almost terrified that he might be doing something, anything other than coming to talk to her.
“Hello there, friend,” she said to him, turning to give him the best look at her as she could, bowing her head just a tiny amount. “Did you enjoy the song?”
“I did,” he replied to her. “You are quite the talented balladeer. When does your troupe move on?”
“On the morrow, fine sir,” she sighed. “We have found that if we remain in any one place too long, the interest in our performances dries up, for we know only so many songs and plays, and once we have exhausted our repertoire, the audience stops coming, and our funds dry up. Are you one of the fishermen of this fine town?”
“I’m afraid not, m’lady. I suppose you might consider me a roving blade at this point.”
“Oh! My! A mercenary, you say?” she said, licking her lips hungrily. “Bear you any scars that you might reveal to me, along with the tales of how you might have obtained them?”
“I might be compelled to show them to you, should we find ourselves less surrounded.”
“I have a private chamber built atop one of our wagons,” she said to him. “Perhaps we should continue our conversation there?”
“I am game if you are, m’lady...”
“Bellona,” she replied. “And you are?”
“Justus.”
She excused herself to the men in her troupe, the biggest and bulkiest of which was her brother, Octavius, whom took more than a minute’s convincing that Bellona could handle herself just fine, and in the end, the giant still looked displeased with her decision.
The two of them made their way out of the tavern and over to the middle of the three wagons, her climbing up onto the back of it before stepping inside to a small chamber, something akin to a bedroom, which made me suspect that when performing was difficult, Bellona also tended to double as a courtesan, and this was her boudoir.
As soon as they were inside the chamber, she was all over him, which made me think maybe I’d overdone it, but the endorphin rush that Justus was getting was entirely worth it. She ripped clothes of them in the blink of an eye, and before I think either I or Justus knew what was happening, she had already positioned him on his back and had climbed atop of him.
“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he said to her as she moved to get herself positioned right.
“And you’ve been well blessed by the gods in this regard,” she said, moving to stroke Justus’ huge cock. I will tell you this, I certainly hadn’t expected him to have quite the weapon when he’d put me on, but I knew it would certainly make the pursuit of partners a little bit easier. Many women will tell you that the size of a man’s weapon is unimportant, and for them, yes, that’s true, but there exists a percentage of women for whom size isn’t just important, it’s essential. And it wasn’t as though Justus had a cock large enough to send women reeling in fear, headed for the hills. “I can’t wait to get this inside of me.”
“The only thing stopping you,” Justus replied with a laugh. “Is you.”
“Then stop I shall not.” She took his shaft in both hands and moved it in line before she dropped her hips down on it with a loud squeal of pleasure, her hands both reaching up to grab her own head, giving him more than an eyeful of those firm, luscious tits of hers. “Fuck, that monster fills my cunt so well, you bastard... And you were not lying about the scars.” Her hands reached down and moved to trail her fingertips across Justus’ scarred chest before taking time to deliberately trail along the length of the wicked scar that ran along his arm from wrist to shoulder, her hips wriggling her pussy upon his cock without thrusting upon it, simply letting the size of it inhabit her pussy, stretching her out upon it. “They give you so much character and style.”
Justus decided he didn’t want her to remain still, so his hands shot forth and grabbed onto her hips, pulling her up as she began to giggle before shoving her back down, which sparked another moan from her lips, her hand to her mouth for a moment before she started to giggle once more. “You alright?”
“I just didn’t expect this to be so filling,” she purred at him. “Go on, you animal. Ravish me.”
There’s not a lot to say about Justus’ first time having sex with me on, because he’d gone years without the touch of a woman, so he was so sensitive, I think he would’ve popped off with only the slightest amount of effort. Let’s just say he did admirably, and leave it at that.
After a few minutes of her panting for breath atop of him, her cunt absolutely sodden with his ridiculously large load of spunk inside of her, she finally gained enough of her wits about her to speak.
“We’re going to fuck once more in the morning, just because I want another ride on that beast, but if I’m honest, we’d never work because my brother doesn’t like you, and I wouldn’t want to keep around anyone my brother doesn’t like.”
A few minutes later, she was asleep atop of him, and Justus was thinking quietly to himself, forgetting for a moment maybe that I could hear him.
“Ye gods, I can really fuck any woman I want,” he thought. “I’m going to find true love before I know it!”
It would take us close to three years, but we’d get there in the end. And let me tell you, there were two along the way that I certainly was not prepared for...