After Rome Read Online Free PDF Page B

are you going?”
    Dinas plucked a name out of the air. “Mamucium. I believe that is northeast of Deva? I’ve never been there before. Perhaps you can give me directions when I leave here?”
    While he spoke, from his vantage point atop the stallion he was surveying Deva Victrix. Garrison no more, it was reduced to a dilapidated town inhabited by less than two thousand people. Once it had boasted a famous racecourse and a guesthouse with a hypocaust for the warmth and comfort of visiting dignitaries. Now whole areas were totally deserted.
    Facing Dinas across a weedy parade ground was the former headquarters of the garrison, an impressive building some two hundred and fifty feet square. Nearby was the armory, of almost equal size and designed to hold prisoners, hostages and booty as well as weaponry. Behind these stood a third structure with a central block of offices surrounded by corridors leading to a number of storerooms and workshops for the carpenters, smiths, masons, wheelwrights and other workers needed to keep the garrison functioning.
    All unnecessary now.
    Some of the materials used in constructing the headquarters complex and the commander’s private residence had been cannibalized for less pretentious buildings. The wooden hospital and the granary had collapsed into heaps of rotting timber. Some of the long rows of timber barracks had been turned into housing but more were standing empty. Yet amid a welter of disorganization it was still possible to discern the former precise geometry of streets and squares.
    Between two sheds a goat stood on its hind legs to chew clothes drying on a line. Nearby a miscellany of scruffy hounds lolled in the sun. Farther on, an old woman shook her fist at a half-naked boy who was chasing a flapping goose.
    Not a pretty girl in sight, Dinas noted with disappointment. He dropped his gaze to the men below him.
    The silent listener was a small man, but he had a large skull on which his ears stuck out like afterthoughts. His eyes were very blue. He edged closer to Dinas. “I like horses, I’ve always liked horses,” he confided in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I am called Meradoc. What do you call your horse?” He reached out to stroke the stallion’s neck.
    Dinas deftly reined the horse out of reach. “He doesn’t have a name and he’s not used to strangers. A stallion, you know. Difficult temperament. Stay clear of him for your own sake.”
    â€œAnimals like me,” the little man insisted in his soft voice. He approached the horse again.
    Dinas did not move the stallion a second time. Let this fool learn the hard way, he thought.
    â€œI am called Brecon, Brecon the woodcarver,” said the balding man. “My friend here is called Ludno. I’m afraid we didn’t hear your name.”
    â€œDinas.”
    â€œDinas? Is that all?” Ludno asked suspiciously.
    â€œWhat more do you want?”
    Ludno scowled. The clever retort he sought was eluding him. He settled for, “You ride a fine horse; is he yours?”
    Dinas met his calculating eyes with a look of total candor. “This horse belongs to a man in Mamucium; I’m merely delivering him. A poor pilgrim must earn a few coins wherever he can.”
    â€œOh.” Ludno sounded disappointed.
    Brecon said, “I would be pleased to show you around while you’re in the area, Dinas. If you want to see the martyrium I can take you to the Coliseum.”
    â€œI can see it from here,” said Dinas. The huge stadium was easily the most noticeable structure in Deva.
    Gathering the otter skins firmly around his shoulders, Ludno stepped in front of Brecon. “I’ll guide you myself,” he announced. “My knowledge and understanding are extensive; my own ancestors were victims of the vicious games the Romans played.”
    â€œSo were mine,” countered Brecon. He pushed past Ludno, who pushed back.
    While this