Perhaps when reading the final line about the rolling head you let out a sigh of relief. You might think this story has ended. Odoacer is dead. Romulus lives. The hero won and the villain lost. The book can be closed with a satisfied smile.
How naive that thought is.
Winning a battle is merely the easiest part of history. Killing a king is simple. What is difficult is killing the idea he left behind. What is difficult is feeding thousands of hungry mouths the next day. What is difficult is holding back the cracked dam wall when the floodwaters come crashing in.
To you Odoacer's death might look like an end. But to me who knows the continuation of this tale that death was merely a small spark. A spark that fell on dry leaves but eventually burned a forest as vast as the continent of Africa.
Romulus did not win peace that night. He won an entry ticket to a new hell.
The Grand Library of Athenaeum Imperialis, Rome. Early February, 1000 AD.
I placed my mechanical gold pen back on its stand. A soft click sounded as the ink valve inside closed automatically. The black ink was still wet on the parchment recording the terrifying seconds inside that red tent. My fingers felt stiff. Rewriting the dark history of our founding father always drains my energy more than writing about false glories.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence of my spacious study.
"Master Aelius."
I turned. In the doorway stood Cassian. He was my best student a bright young man in dark blue academic robes embroidered with silver gears which was the symbol of the Guild of Engineers and History.
His face looked tense. In his hand he held a slip of yellow paper printed by the pneumatic telegraph machine.
"Forgive me for disturbing your meditation Master," said Cassian bowing respectfully. "I bring a priority message from the library's telegraph center. This message came through the direct line from the Palatine Hill."
He handed the paper to me.
I opened it. The writing there was printed in neat blue ink by the steam receiver machine.
TO: HIS EXCELLENCY MASTER AELIUS TACITUS
FROM: THE EMPEROR'S PRIVATE SECRETARIAT
SUBJECT: IMPERIAL MANDATE
HIS MAJESTY EMPEROR AURELIUS II REQUIRES YOUR PRESENCE AT THE PALACE IMMEDIATELY. A STEAM CHARIOT HAS BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR PRIVATE DOCK.
I let out a long sigh. A summons from the Palace never brought light news. I folded the message and tucked it into my robe pocket.
"Close my book Cassian," I ordered while rising from my comfortable wooden chair. "And lock this room. Do not let anyone read what I have written today. The world is not ready to see the naked truth of our history."
"Yes Master," answered Cassian obediently.
I took my crystal-tipped walking stick and walked out to the private balcony of my tower.
The view out there always managed to make me hold my breath no matter how many thousands of times I had seen it.
Rome in the year 1000 AD is not a ruin of old stone. It is the heart of the world pulsing with steam and iron.
Down there the city stretched out like a sea of white marble and gleaming copper. Giant steam towers or Turris Vaporis rose high piercing the low clouds spewing clean white smoke which was the result of burning Aether the energy source discovered three centuries ago. Polished brass pipes wrapped around tall buildings like giant vines distributing heat and power to every corner of the city.
I saw the iron railway tracks or Via Ferrea stretching between the buildings connecting the seven hills of Rome. Steam-powered trains sped fast on the ground tracks carrying thousands of busy citizens.
And in the sky the fleet of Navis Aeria the imperial airships with steel-plated balloons and smoothly spinning brass propellers floated gracefully like whales in an ocean of air. They patrolled watching over this city that never slept.
A small steam skiff with the Double Golden Eagle emblem was waiting at my balcony dock. Its engine hissed softly emitting thin steam.
I boarded the ship. The pilot a Praetorian in armor equipped with a mechanical breathing mask saluted me.
"To the Palatine Master Aelius?" he asked his voice sounding mechanical from behind the mask.
"To the Palatine," I replied.
The ship took off smoothly. We glided through the warm air of Rome.
Below me I saw the majestic Colosseum. The arena had now been given a giant glass dome roof and converted into the largest opera house in the world illuminated by thousands of electric arc-lamps. I saw the Roman Forum which was now the center of world stock trading where merchants from Serica to Britannia transacted using wireless telegraphs.
All this progress. All these technological wonders and civilization that surpassed the dreams of the gods.
Everything started from the decision of one dirty little boy in the marshes of Ravenna five hundred years ago. How ironic.
Our ship landed on the landing platform of the Imperial Palace on the Palatine Hill.
I stepped down and walked past the heavy guard of the Scholae. They were now armed with single-shot rifles powered by explosive powder acquired from the lands of Serica. Swords are still used hanging at their belts as a reminder of the old ways.
I walked down the palace corridors whose walls were lined with gold and giant clockwork mechanisms beating in sync with the heartbeat of the empire.
I arrived at the Imperial Hall. The room was empty except for the guards standing like statues at every pillar.
While waiting for the Emperor to arrive I walked closer to the center of the room.
There stood that statue again. The statue of young Romulus Augustus.
Under the bright light of electric crystal lamps the marble face looked even more alive. His triumphant smile seemed to greet me. His right hand holding the dagger seemed ready to move at any moment to guard this empire.
I stared into the statue's eyes. Eyes that were empty yet held a depth of sorrow that I could now see after rewriting his tale.
"The world knows what you did Romulus," I whispered softly to the statue. "They praise you because you saved us from the darkness. But after piecing together the fragments of this story... I finally understand how heavy the burden was on your small shoulders."
I touched the cold foot of the statue respectfully.
"People see victory," I continued quietly. "But I know... I know you did not just leave an enemy's corpse in that tent. You left a part of your soul there so that we all could live today."
The sound of a mechanical door hissing open at the end of the hall broke my reverie. I turned ready to face the current ruler of the world whose blood still flowed from the same source as the brave boy in front of me.
White steam hissed out from the cracks of the mechanical door as the hydraulic latches unlocked.
But the one who stepped out was not the magnificent Emperor Aurelius II.
It was his son. The Crown Prince. Romulus III.
He was a handsome and dashing young man of twenty-one years. His figure was the definition of a true son of Rome. He possessed a strong chin like those carved on gold coins and a pair of eagle eyes that were sharp yet warm.
I knew that gaze very well. I was the one who shaped the mind behind those eyes. I alone taught him the philosophy of Plato and the strategies of Julius Caesar since he was a lonely ten-year-old boy. He grew up with only his father and servants because his mother Empress Helena the Gentle died bringing him into this world.
Seeing me standing there the Prince's formal face immediately brightened. A wide smile broke on his lips and erased the stiff impression of nobility in an instant.
"Master Aelius!" he exclaimed.
He forgot palace protocol and jogged down the podium stairs then hugged me tightly. The scent of sandalwood oil and faint iron wafted from his robes.
I patted his back gently while smiling. It felt like only yesterday I taught him how to hold a quill properly.
"Your Highness," I said while releasing his embrace gently. "I have told you a thousand times. Inside this palace call me Uncle Aelius. The title Master makes me feel as old as the ruins of the Forum."
Romulus III laughed crisply. His voice echoed off the marble walls.
"You have not aged a day Master," he joked. "You are as immortal as your library. Come. My father is already waiting in the Strategy Room. He is impatient to hear your opinion."
He put his arm around my shoulder and guided me down the long corridor toward the east wing of the palace. The Scholae guards we passed stamped their feet and struck their chests in salute as their future emperor passed.
"I heard you just returned from the Holy Land," I said opening the conversation while matching my pace with his long strides. "How was your pilgrimage to Jerusalem? Is the city as beautiful as told in the scriptures?"
Romulus III's eyes sparkled.
"Incredible Uncle," he answered enthusiastically. "We took the steam express from Antioch cutting through the desert in just two days. Jerusalem is now the jewel of the East. The Golden Dome built by my great-grandfather shines under the desert sun. I prayed at Christ's tomb and it felt... peaceful. Very different from the hustle and bustle of Rome."
"And the Governor there?" I asked. "Governor Lucius Cyprian? I hope he welcomed you properly."
"Oh he welcomed me," Romulus III snorted with amusement. "He welcomed me too much. A party for three straight days. He tried to flatter me so his budget would be increased next year. That man looks more like a carpet merchant than a Roman administrator but he keeps the province stable so I do not complain."
We continued to chat lightly about eastern provincial politics and the progress of irrigation technology in Egypt. But the closer we got to our destination Romulus III's steps became faster and his face slowly turned serious again.
We reached the end of the corridor.
Before us stood a giant double door made of pure gold. On its surface was carved the symbol of the greatness of the new Roman Empire which was an Eagle clutching a Cross and a Sword in its claws. A symbol of the union of earthly and heavenly power.
Before the guards could open it the golden door suddenly opened from the inside.
A group of people exited with hurried steps. Their faces looked busy and focused exactly like people afraid of missing the last departing train. They walked fast without looking left or right.
They were the Great Generals of the Empire. Their ceremonial armor clinked as they walked quickly past us.
In front of them walked the most powerful figure in the Roman military. The Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces or Magister Militum Praesentalis Gaius Domitius.
The man was large with graying hair cut short. He had a burn scar on his neck from a cannon explosion during the campaign to crush rebels in Africa.
Gaius stopped for a moment when he saw me and Romulus III.
"Your Highness," he said while nodding stiffly. Then his eyes shifted to me. "Master Aelius."
"Commander Gaius," I replied nodding respectfully.
He did not make small talk. He immediately signaled his generals and they rushed away leaving us in front of the open door with wide and quick steps.
Romulus III stared at the backs of the generals with a furrowed brow.
"They look like they are in a great hurry," he muttered softly.
"Perhaps there is urgent business," I answered.
Romulus III sighed then turned to me.
"Come Uncle. Whatever makes Commander Gaius move that fast is surely no trivial news."
We stepped inside and the giant golden door closed behind us with a soft airtight thud. The noise of the palace vanished instantly replaced by a majestic silence.
In the center of the vast room stood the figure of the ruler of the world.
Aurelius II Augustus. Invictus. Pontifex Maximus. Father of the Fatherland.
He stood with his back to us. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was staring at a giant strategic map table made of glass and illuminated from below.
Although he was forty-seven years old time seemed reluctant to touch his physique. His posture was upright and sturdy. His shoulders were broad and his muscles were still taut like a gallant thirty-year-old soldier ready to plunge into the battlefield. Only the graying hair at his temples signaled the wisdom and burden of decades leading the empire.
"Father," called Romulus III softly.
The Emperor turned slowly. His face was a mirror of his son's but with harder jawlines and a gaze that could freeze an ocean.
I immediately bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty Augustus," I said. "You summoned me?"
Aurelius smiled thinly.
"Correct Aelius," he answered his baritone voice filling the room. "Sit down. We speak as family today not as officials."
He pointed to a set of velvet chairs near a large window overlooking the city of Rome. We sat down. Romulus III deftly took a crystal decanter from a side table. He poured the finest red Falernian wine into three golden goblets.
He gave one to the Emperor first then to me and finally took one for himself.
The Emperor sipped his wine slightly then looked at me.
"How is your book project Master Historian?" he asked. "Is my ancestor's biography ready for print?"
"According to plan Your Majesty," I answered while placing the goblet on the table. "I have written the outline. Now it remains to stitch it into a whole piece worthy of being read by future generations."
"Good," muttered the Emperor. "History is our anchor. Without the past we are but a rudderless ship."
A moment of silence fell upon the room. Romulus III who had been looking amused finally spoke while swirling his wine glass.
"Father," he said casually. "Why did Commander Gaius look in such a hurry earlier? He barely greeted me. Did he not want to linger looking at the handsome face of his future emperor?"
The Emperor did not laugh at his son's joke. His face grew even more clouded. He looked at his son then turned to look at me. His gaze turned sharp and serious.
"Aelius," said the Emperor quietly ignoring Romulus's joke. "I summoned you because I want to ask you something. This is related to what Commander Gaius just discussed. And this is related to my son."
Romulus III gasped in surprise. His smile vanished.
"About me?" he asked confused.
"Yes young man," answered the Emperor while rising to his feet.
He walked back to the strategy table where the generals had gathered earlier. He picked up a stack of thick sheets of paper and a black leather-bound report book left there.
He returned and handed the documents to me.
"This document is of the highest classification," said the Emperor with a warning tone. "A top-secret document that even the Crown Prince does not have permission to view under normal circumstances. But this time I show it to you because I need your understanding of this situation not your sword."
Romulus III who was curious immediately shifted his seat closer to me wanting to see what was inside.
"What is this about Your Majesty?" I asked while taking the sheets.
I began to read the first line and my eyes widened.
"It is a direct report from General Gaius," explained the Emperor. His voice became cold. "A rebellion has broken out in the Province of Iberia."
"Iberia?" Romulus III interrupted. "But Spain is a quiet granary."
"Governor Publius Varrus requested emergency assistance via the secret telegraph line last night," continued the Emperor. "His report was broken and sounded panicked. I have ordered all public telegraph access and rail lines to and from the Iberian peninsula cut off completely this morning. No one must know. If this news leaks the Trade Exchange in the Forum will collapse in an hour."
I put down the paper. My brain spun fast trying to analyze the situation.
"Your Majesty," I said carefully. "With all due respect there have been many rebellions in the imperial territories since the time of Romulus."
"What? Me?" interrupted Romulus III shocked while pointing at himself. "I never started a rebellion."
"I meant Romulus the First Your Highness," I corrected quickly suppressing a smile. "Romulus the Founder."
I looked back at the Emperor.
"I mean Your Majesty rebellions are common. Peasant revolts in Gaul or religious riots in Egypt all were successfully crushed. You just need to send two or three legions using steam trains and the problem will be solved in a month."
I was about to continue my advice but the Emperor raised his hand stopping me.
Aurelius II's face looked grim. A shadow of fear crossed his usually steadfast eyes.
"You are wrong Aelius," cut the Emperor. "This time is different."
Emperor Aurelius II did not explain further what that different danger was. He only sighed deeply as if expelling the weight of the world from his chest for a moment.
"This is all I can say for now Aelius," said the Emperor while tidying the documents on the table. "Tonight I will depart on the express iron train with General Gaius to the province of Gallia Narbonensis. From the southern border there I can monitor the situation in Iberia without drawing public attention in Rome."
Romulus III looked like he wanted to protest being left behind but his father raised a hand.
"While I am away from Rome you must learn my Son," said the Emperor firmly. "You must learn to be a true Emperor. And you Aelius will be his teacher once again."
The Emperor stared intently at his son.
"Next month the Grand Session of the Central Senate will be held in the Curia Julia. I want you Romulus to attend in my name. You will preside over that session and listen to the complaints of the people's representatives."
Romulus III's face turned sour.
"Father," he complained. "I do not want to deal with those old men. They are only good at talking in circles and arguing about grain taxes."
He then glanced at me with a guilty look.
"No offense intended Uncle Aelius. But they are indeed annoying. Their breath smells like old paper."
"You must learn Romulus," chided the Emperor his voice sharpening. "After I die you will deal with them every day for the rest of your life. Power is not just about swords and steam trains but also about the patience to listen to fools speak."
The Emperor paused for a moment then added one more thing that changed the atmosphere completely.
"And... regarding the future of the dynasty. Aelius while I am away I give you a special mandate. I want you to start looking for a worthy wife for my son. A future Empress."
Romulus III who was drinking his wine choked. He coughed hard red liquid spilling slightly onto his chin.
"What?!" he exclaimed while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "A wife? But Father I am still-"
The Emperor did not answer the protest. He only glanced at his son then walked slowly toward the corner of the room.
There under the spotlight of a special lamp stood a bulletproof glass cabinet decorated with pearl and crystal carvings. Inside on a red velvet cushion lay an ancient object.
A Pearl Diadem.
It was not a glittering modern crown. It was a simple old object yet its aura of history was heavier than any gold in the room. It was the Diadem of the first Romulus Augustus. The same object that had gone into a bloody burlap sack five hundred years ago.
I walked closer followed by Romulus III who still looked shocked.
The Emperor stared at the old crown behind the glass with a distant gaze.
"I wore this at my coronation twenty years ago," whispered Aurelius softly. "And your mother stood beside me. She held my hand when my legs trembled climbing the steps to the throne."
He turned to look at his son. His gaze softened full of the affection of a father missing his wife.
"Every time I see this object I do not see power. I see your mother. This crown is heavy Son. Too heavy to be borne by one head alone."
The Emperor placed his hand on Romulus III's shoulder.
"So before you wear this on your head later you must find a woman like your mother. Someone who will hold your hand when the world is crumbling."
Romulus III fell silent. His protests vanished. He nodded slowly understanding the depth of his father's request.
"Yes Father," he answered quietly.
The Emperor smiled then patted both our shoulders.
"Guard Rome for me," he said.
Without waiting for another answer Aurelius II turned and walked out through the golden door. The elite Scholae guards with rifles on their shoulders immediately formed a formation around him ready to escort the Ruler to the iron train station.
Romulus III and I were left in the corridor.
"I will come tomorrow morning to your apartments to begin our lessons Your Highness," I said bowing.
"Alright Uncle," answered Romulus III. He hugged me briefly then his eyes shifted to the end of the corridor where his father had disappeared.
"Father!" he called.
Disregarding dignity the young Prince ran after his father. He wanted to give a final farewell before the Emperor left for the front lines.
I smiled watching his retreating back. He still possessed a pure heart. A heart not yet damaged by Fractura Animi.
I walked back toward the landing platform. My small steam skiff was still waiting with its engine hissing patiently.
The journey back to the library felt short. My mind drifted between the danger of rebellion in Iberia and the story of the past I had not yet finished writing.
Arriving at my private tower I told Cassian to rest. I locked the door lit the crystal lamp on my desk and sat back in my comfortable wooden chair.
I picked up my mechanical gold pen. The ink on the parchment was dry now.
Outside the window Rome in the year 1000 AD shone brightly with all its progress. But on this paper I had to return to the darkness of 476 AD. Return to that bloody tent.
I took a deep breath trying to recall the image of the boy who had just beheaded a barbarian king.
"Where was I?" I muttered to the silence.