TWO
I trudged down from the temple of Juno, past the great, white geese that grazed the grass. My mind was a jumble of thoughts. I knew I had to have revenge on Fabia, but I didn’t know how.
Then I saw the geese and I knew. Fabia had one great love. Those geese.
The geese were the holy birds of the goddess Juno. They even had their own junior priestess to feed and care for them. And who was that junior priestess? Yes, Fabia, of course.
So if the geese were harmed, who would be upset? Fabia .
If a single goose was killed in the night, who would be punished? Fabia .
My feet felt as light as if I was wearing the sandals of Mercury–the ones with wings.
The geese. If I hurt the geese, I would hurt Fabia. And that was all I wanted in the world.
The ugly white monsters snaked their long necks and hissed and snapped at me. Oh, I would enjoy having a chop at one of those necks!
But when I walked down the path from the temple into Rome, I heard the screams of the people. I saw the terror in their faces as they ran from their homes holding bundles of their riches. Some items spilled out in the dusty roadway, but they didn’t stop to pick them up.
A group of Roman soldiers ran after them; they were bleeding and sweating and throwing away their armour to help them run. One stopped at the great square to get his breath.
“What’s happening?” I cried.
The man stood trembling and exhausted. His eyes were empty and haunted. I shook him hard and shouted again. “What happened?”
He began to babble. “We went to fight the Gaul armies in the hills to the north–they swept down and drove us back. They were so fierce–they fought with no armour–some had no clothes at all!
“And their battle cries. What a noise! More frightening than thunder. Most Romans turned and ran. They won’t stop till they reach the rest of the Roman army in Veii. That’s where I’m heading,” he finished and staggered off down the street.
The roads were empty now.
Rome had run away.
I looked towards the north gate and saw why. The dust clouds showed that a mighty army was approaching.
THREE
The Gauls were coming. There would be no weeding for me in the fields that day–that dreadful day of 18th July.
I decided to run back up to the temples. I’d warn the priests and the guards. We’d block the only path to the Capitol Hill. We’d be safe.
I turned, and stopped. Some servants were carrying heavy ivory seats out of the senate–the great hall where the mighty men of Rome met up. They placed the huge thrones in a line, facing the north gate–facing the Gauls.
It was madness, I thought. A row of seats wouldn’t stop the barbarian attackers. I wanted to run, but my legs refused to move. I had to watch.
When the seats were in position, a dozen old men–the senators–walked out of the building. They were wearing fine togas with purple edges and each carried a rod–the rod that showed their power.
No one spoke. All we could hear in the warm morning air were the distant cries of the Gauls.
The old men sat on the thrones, held their rods across their laps and faced the gate.
“What are they doing?” I asked a servant, as he backed away to the safety of a dark alley.
“Waiting to die,” he squeaked and vanished.
There was a great roar and the first Gauls burst through the northern gateway and ran down the street. When they reached the square, they stopped. Many of them were naked, as the Roman soldier had said. Their pale bodies were streaked with sweat and blood and dust. Each carried a sword and a shield.
The Gauls formed a line, facing the senators. The old Romans didn’t move. A breeze stirred their white beards, or they could have been statues.
The Gauls looked around. They seemed to fear a trap. At last a massive warrior in fine armour pushed his way forward and faced the senators. He shouted at them in some strange tongue. No one moved. Then he spoke in rough Latin, and I understood.
“I am Brennus,
I trudged down from the temple of Juno, past the great, white geese that grazed the grass. My mind was a jumble of thoughts. I knew I had to have revenge on Fabia, but I didn’t know how.
Then I saw the geese and I knew. Fabia had one great love. Those geese.
The geese were the holy birds of the goddess Juno. They even had their own junior priestess to feed and care for them. And who was that junior priestess? Yes, Fabia, of course.
So if the geese were harmed, who would be upset? Fabia .
If a single goose was killed in the night, who would be punished? Fabia .
My feet felt as light as if I was wearing the sandals of Mercury–the ones with wings.
The geese. If I hurt the geese, I would hurt Fabia. And that was all I wanted in the world.
The ugly white monsters snaked their long necks and hissed and snapped at me. Oh, I would enjoy having a chop at one of those necks!
But when I walked down the path from the temple into Rome, I heard the screams of the people. I saw the terror in their faces as they ran from their homes holding bundles of their riches. Some items spilled out in the dusty roadway, but they didn’t stop to pick them up.
A group of Roman soldiers ran after them; they were bleeding and sweating and throwing away their armour to help them run. One stopped at the great square to get his breath.
“What’s happening?” I cried.
The man stood trembling and exhausted. His eyes were empty and haunted. I shook him hard and shouted again. “What happened?”
He began to babble. “We went to fight the Gaul armies in the hills to the north–they swept down and drove us back. They were so fierce–they fought with no armour–some had no clothes at all!
“And their battle cries. What a noise! More frightening than thunder. Most Romans turned and ran. They won’t stop till they reach the rest of the Roman army in Veii. That’s where I’m heading,” he finished and staggered off down the street.
The roads were empty now.
Rome had run away.
I looked towards the north gate and saw why. The dust clouds showed that a mighty army was approaching.
THREE
The Gauls were coming. There would be no weeding for me in the fields that day–that dreadful day of 18th July.
I decided to run back up to the temples. I’d warn the priests and the guards. We’d block the only path to the Capitol Hill. We’d be safe.
I turned, and stopped. Some servants were carrying heavy ivory seats out of the senate–the great hall where the mighty men of Rome met up. They placed the huge thrones in a line, facing the north gate–facing the Gauls.
It was madness, I thought. A row of seats wouldn’t stop the barbarian attackers. I wanted to run, but my legs refused to move. I had to watch.
When the seats were in position, a dozen old men–the senators–walked out of the building. They were wearing fine togas with purple edges and each carried a rod–the rod that showed their power.
No one spoke. All we could hear in the warm morning air were the distant cries of the Gauls.
The old men sat on the thrones, held their rods across their laps and faced the gate.
“What are they doing?” I asked a servant, as he backed away to the safety of a dark alley.
“Waiting to die,” he squeaked and vanished.
There was a great roar and the first Gauls burst through the northern gateway and ran down the street. When they reached the square, they stopped. Many of them were naked, as the Roman soldier had said. Their pale bodies were streaked with sweat and blood and dust. Each carried a sword and a shield.
The Gauls formed a line, facing the senators. The old Romans didn’t move. A breeze stirred their white beards, or they could have been statues.
The Gauls looked around. They seemed to fear a trap. At last a massive warrior in fine armour pushed his way forward and faced the senators. He shouted at them in some strange tongue. No one moved. Then he spoke in rough Latin, and I understood.
“I am Brennus,
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