This is the first of three exciting novels set in the ancient Roman republic, around 120 B.C., with the series called "Barbarians in the Republic"

Extract of Prologue from first novel - 400+ pages approx. in PDF [copywright of author, Skarr One]

Prologue
Somewhere near the borders of Germania and Northern Gaul – 129 BC

The young boy shivered as he crouched in the iron cage and felt the icy blast of the wind touch his naked body.

He drew his knees closer to his chest and could feel his teeth chatter as rough hands at the back of the cart parted the thick hides, allowing the wind to blast its way inside his cage. The hides covered the frame of the cattle cart on all sides, except for a narrow gap at the back that let in enough air for him to breathe. The gap was secured by a clever crisscross formation of strong thin ropes over iron rings and these hung loose now as the front was parted for a man to peer through the opening.

Through the widened gap now, he could see a large man standing on the ground holding a blazing torch in his hand and looking at him.

“Are you sure it’s him?” asked the bulky figure of someone standing close to him.
“Yes” said Cyrix, whose voice the boy instantly recognized as one of his captors. He was the leader of the band of unknown warriors who had kidnapped him. Who were these men? Why had they taken him? These were questions that plagued his young mind, as the events of the past few days remained a blur in his memory, as he lay within the cage. He missed his mother and the comfort of her arms each night, before he slept.

He was sure to die, he thought, bearing their brutal taunts and blows in silence, as his father had taught him to bear any hardship. He was used to beatings for his father beat him all day and when he didn’t and he managed to avoid his blows, which would sometimes rain on him even during his sleep, he had developed a keen, almost animal like sense for avoiding blows. He loved his harsh father, who was a giant to him, and literally worshipped him in everything. His mother was the first wife of the tribe and he was the heir and the next great chief of that tribe. Their way was harsh to many but to him, it was a way of life, one that he was used to, since his birth.

At that moment, he was weak, and hadn’t eat or drunk anything for days now. There was also the blood he’d lost and the broken bones that he felt everywhere, in his ribs, his arms and legs and even his back. In most places, the vital ones, he felt strong and he was confident he could still beat off these men easily and escape, if he saw an opportunity. His keen eyes saw Cyrix grip the handle of his throwing knife and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure, as he had seen him use it with deadly effect on the man whom they relied on to guard them while they slept, his maternal uncle from the village they just visited. The boy was angry and still defiant, although his body was weak. He didn’t learn how weak until much later.

Cyrix waited until the chief had taken a good look at the boy, his hand on his knife, in case the boy did anything foolish.

The chief was unafraid and tried to look kindly at the boy, as Cyrix continued, “We followed the Queen for several days, along with her son and her train of servants and slaves. On the third day, and while everyone was asleep, we killed the guards before her tent and before an alarm could be raised, we already had the boy you wanted, but only after a terrible fight where we lost the son of master Bagi, your grandfather’s son by Megara’s grandmother. He was unable to conquer his lust for the Queen who killed him as he tried to violate her honor.”

“You have done well and she is a worthy Queen, to love and protect my cousin’s spawn,” said the chief Barix to his trusted scout and spy, who was also the leader of his bodyguard and in charge of the camp outside his estate. “Soon, his father will come to me, looking for him and I will make him pay for his former insults, before returning the boy. I hope that he has not been harmed in any way.”

Turning to the boy, who was cold, hungry and extremely tired, as he had not eaten or slept in over three days, but seemingly unafraid as he stared back at the chief, who leaned into the cart holding his torch high, so that he could look at the boy more closely. The boy had his knees drawn up about him, clutching his legs in a tight grip with his long, bony arms and disdained the use of a warm cloak that had been offered by Cyrix earlier, and which lay crumpled on the filthy floor before him.

“The boy seems cold and weak but has a lot of spirit,” said the chief Barix, seeing the discarded cloak and the steady stare of the boy, who looked at him with as fierce a look as he could muster, under those circumstances.

“He is a beast,” said Cyrix. “Although only a boy, he has the strength of many men and it took five men to subdue him before I could get him inside this cage. I was lucky and managed to hit him hard on the head with my club. Otherwise, he would have escaped us, after killing a couple of men, who are still sore from his blows.”

“I hope you didn’t harm his mother,” said the chief Barix, who didn’t want further complications.

Kidnapping the son of his rival was bad enough. He didn’t want the woman too, as that would mean certain war. With the boy, as his rival cousin already had older sons by another wife, a barbarian woman, it would be a good negotiating tactic. He could possibly get better terms with regard to demands he had made on certain lands that were in dispute. These lands rightfully belonged to him and not to his cousin, who claimed them as his birthright, by virtue of his mother’s claim on the chief Barix’s property as part of her dowry. It was a common tactic and the chief Barix knew that Gerovix would eventually have to pay some money and forgo other lands by removing his tribes, forcing them back to their nomadic ways.

One day, if the laws proposed by the Gracchi were to be enacted, all of Italy would be part of Rome and that worried him. Rome needed gold for their internal intrigues as penniless men of high birth made their way following a traditional path on their way to the highest office, consul.

The consul, the chief Barix learnt quickly was often a puppet and easily manipulated by powerful factions in the senate, as Rome really functioned like a true democracy, although there were a few chiefs emerging, as he liked to think of the numerous patricians per the report of his ambassador. Every year, the chief Barix would send an ambassador during the winter months, as the barbarian lands would be frozen during winter, with people remaining indoors until the spring. There was nothing to do all day except bathe indoors and relax with the women, waiting for spring.

He looked forward to the greeting by his Greek wife when he returned home, who would already be in her bath with a couple of pleasure slaves, wondering where he was, at this time of the night. She never asked him questions and he loved her precisely for that, as she asked few questions of him. She was also intensely sexual and he would spend long hours just watching her with the slaves he pampered her with, as he would often tire quickly or would be engaged in dealing with various matters that needed his urgent attention within the tribes he commanded.

Cyrix waited until the chief was done thinking about whatever he wanted to ruminate over, as he walked to and fro, trying to keep warm while he pondered over a letter he just received via courier from the ambassador, which was sent by him soon after his arrival in Rome.

He again read some lines slowly in Greek by the torchlight from the letter, awkwardly holding the scroll open but careful not to burn it. It was a short letter with the essentials, the way he liked it. No greetings or anything of that sort, like the formal Roman letters, which were usually so long winded that he would give them to his wife and have her summarize the gist of what they meant to say to him.

He wanted a huge sum of money deposited as a tribute under the custody of a young senator for Rome, Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, an idealistic man in his mid thirties and who would use this scrupulously, according to whatever the chief Barix wanted the tribute to fund, as there would be regular installments to be paid every six months or so, through his bankers. This was something new for him but he learnt the Roman system quickly.

He needed to make a decision soon and this money under Scaurus’s control would fund the development of a Roman outpost for peaceful purposes, observation and defense of nearby tribes of the chief Barix and other duties, per a treaty still under interminable discussions. His ambassador had told him it may take years to formalize a treaty, as the senate moved very slowly on all foreign requests for alliance, even though it was in the interests of Rome. He would be indirectly funding the development of their army, he was thinking. However, since Scaurus was opposed to the Gracchi reforms, the question of granting citizenship rights to all of Italia would cease to worry him if the Gracchi could be ousted.

He would fight on two fronts, he thought. On the one hand, he would contain the threat the Gracchi represented to his people, if their proposals were enacted and on the other hand, he would utilize Rome’s help to consolidate his lands. The chief Barix thought he could not lose in this situation, as all advantages seemed to favor him from these outcomes. Scaurus’s increasing influence in the senate would help oust any support for the Gracchi, if he had enough money to wage a war against them and their growing number of supporters. Money, it always came to money, he thought. However, its judicious use was what concerned him, not the amount of money he had to pay as a tribute to Rome.

Those lands that belonged to his cousin were once his own, as the original descendant of the founding line and was lost by his foolish grandfather to one of his brothers, whose son Gerovix, now seized even more lands from him. This situation was becoming alarming, as Gerovix was also forming numerous alliances to strengthen his position, although an all out war was the furthest in their minds at the moment. At best, an uneasy peace reigned between the two cousins. This boy would tip the balance in his favor, he thought, as he was rumored to be in great love with the Celtic Queen he married. Her son would be dear to him, he thought and it would be some payback, as he had desired the pretty girl herself, many years ago.

“We had to knock her unconscious as she was also very strong, as these Celtic warrior women are and the ensuing fight with the boy in their tent was terrible and if his mother hadn’t called out to him, I would not be standing here,” said Cyrix, when the chief ceased brooding and turned to him again, handing him the torch.

“He is a chief’s son and therefore will have a lot of spirit but at his age to fight with five grown men, I would have thought that my cousin’s bloodline was not that strong,” said the chief Barix. “He must inherit this strength and spirit from his barbarian mother, the Celtic Queen my cousin married, who is rumored to be a great warrior herself.”

“Possibly, you may be right about that” said Cyrix. “Before she was rendered unconscious, she had killed one of my men already with her bare hands, strangling him to death.”

“It was wise of you to take so many men,” said the chief Barix. “You have earned my trust again.”

Cyrix bowed deeply to the chief, acknowledging the compliment made by him. He was a man of twenty five, with a painted face that made his face look fiercer than it was and wore thick trousers, some kind of leather boots, animal skins over his body and a fur lined thick woolen cloak with a hood for protection against the cold.

He wore some kind of fur covered mittens on his hand, which gripped a long spear. He also had a vicious looking club slung over his shoulder and a dagger on his belt, which was actually a well balanced throwing knife with a carved bone handle, surmounted by a fierce boar’s head.

The chief Barix wore his huge fur lined helmet with the horns of an ox, the ends of which were covered with gold, indicating his status as the chief. He also wore a thick golden chain around his neck with an amulet that carried the image of a Greek vase on one side and a boar’s head on the other. The strange combination was the sign of his family clan since the first chief Barix had laid claim over the vast lands bordering Germania and Northern Gaul a couple of centuries ago, soon after the conquest of Egypt by Alexander the Great. The Romans published maps that the chief himself referred to, as he admired the Romans in many ways, especially their organization skills.

His own vast estate was set in a mountainous region close to the thick forests that spread for many hundreds of square miles and which were not only impenetrable but home to a number of tribes and settlements within the forest, scattered in small groups all over that vast region. The chief Barix had no claims there and avoided the deep forests, as those tribes were truly savage and he was scared of them himself.

Thinking for a long time, while Cyrix stood by him on a narrow trail that led further up in the mountains, towards his estates, which were set on a flat plateau encompassing a small lake bordering the deep forests beyond, he made a decision.

“Take him to the old man and tell him to take special care as he is dangerous,” said the chief, walking away towards his waiting horse, as he wanted to get back to the warmth of his home, feeling another cold blast of air, that seemed to even penetrate the thick bear skin he wore underneath the woolen cloak that he wrapped around his barrel chest.

He was a tall, huge man with a long beard and mustache, bright yellow in color, a prominent feature of the men who descended in the chief’s line. His long yellow hair flowed well past his shoulders and despite his bulky frame, he seemed to move quite agilely and mounted his horse without any assistance.

Nodding to Cyrix, he was about to leave when Cyrix asked him, “Should I leave my men with the old man to guard the boy?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” said the chief, laughing at his question and riding up the narrow trail, without a backward look at Cyrix, who stood a little perplexed.

Shaking his head and sighing, as he felt the chief was being mysterious, he closed the hides again, cutting the wind and easing the discomfort for the poor boy. He shivered but kept staring at Cyrix, with hate in his eyes, which Cyrix could clearly see by the light of the torch he held.

He admired the boy, who had refused any food and water; even a cloak from them to cover his naked body had been refused, as all he wore was a simple golden chain about his neck, with a large pendant of some kind, when they’d found him. He didn’t know what it said as they had been too scared to approach the boy, fearing his strength.

What power and energy the boy had, he thought. Even after that terrible blow to his head, he continued to resist them, as they forced him into this cage, where he had been finally locked up. He had never seen someone so small and so strong and ferocious, as he bit, scratched and hit with surprising power, knocking down a couple of grown men, as they tried to seize him. He fought like one of those mountain wolves he’d seen once, when they descended in a pack upon a bear, when they were hungry and couldn’t find smaller prey.

Only in this case, this boy was the wolf and they were like so many sheep before him. They had thought it would be easy and some of the men wanted to rape the Queen, as they began to desire her, after following them discreetly over several days from the village they visited, possibly a relative of some kind, as the entire village had come to see the Queen leave, along with this boy and the rest of the party.

To his luck, they took a forest trail and for several days while they followed them, Cyrix had been puzzled why they chose this particular trail as he knew it led deep into the forests. Maybe there was an unknown branch there that was like a short cut and reached the chief Gerovix’s lands by this route.

He was aware of his chief’s rivalry with his cousin, over lands that belonged to his chief and also a woman they both desired when they were younger, whom the chief Gerovix obtained by force, capturing her one night from her village and marrying her. He wondered if this boy was that woman’s son, as the chief had given them an instruction that under no circumstances was the woman to be harmed. The chief could not have made her his first wife in any case, he thought, as she was not Greek but a Celtic woman, a real beauty, he thought, observing her from a nearby tree.

In any case, he had the prize in his sight, the young boy, and on the fourth night, while they camped by a stream, the three guards near the Queen’s tent had begun drinking some of the wine that had been presented by the villagers, at the insistence of the Queen, who went to sleep inside the tent, early that night. Her son was already inside the tent, possibly fast asleep, as Cyrix had observed the mother tell him to go inside as soon as the sun’s light faded. The boy had protested but meekly went after his mother yelled at him.

Cyrix and a few others hid in the trees and by the moonlight, they observed the Queen take a bath in the stream, although the water must have been cold. It was early spring and in the evenings, a sudden chill usually descended around this time. The sight of her naked body and her beautiful face with the long, golden hair framing it had aroused all the men’s baser instincts and they began to desire her strongly for themselves, anticipating the moment when Cyrix would finally give the signal for attack.

They waited patiently for the guards to get drunk and while two waited by a fire, which blazed in the center of a circle formed by the tents, one sat directly near the entrance of the Queen’s tent, armed with a formidable ax. This warrior worried Cyrix, as he had not drunk as much wine while the other two guards were singing songs and telling each other bawdy jokes. Patience, he signaled to his men as they quietly waited. He made a sign that he would take care of the guard before the Queen’s tent while the others took care of the drunken guards by the fire.

End of Excerpt from the Prologue to the series and part of the exciting first novel in the series set in the ancient Republic of Rome, circa 120 BC.